“It’s obvious that they’re not okay,” Sarah said, with her usual directness. She downed the rest of her glass of wine as if it were a shot.
Heather stiffened, but before she could respond, I asked, “Did Viktor have issues in his first marriage?”
“Issues?” Heather sat back in the sofa and crossed her arms protectively across her chest.
“Did he have anger-management issues back then, too?”
“I don’t know. Obviously, I wasn’t married to him then.” She sounded annoyed, but she was repeatedly and unconsciously pinching her forearms, that pale, perfect skin turning pink, then red.
“Did Viktor, um, that is, did he get a divorce?” Julie asked as if we didn’t know.
Heather gave a single, brief shake of her head. “No. His wife died.”
“How?” I asked, coming too fast on the heels of what she’d said.
She was clearly startled, her eyes widening, but after a moment she said, “It was an accident.”
“Car accident?” Sarah asked.
Heather shook her head. “She fell. She was home alone with the baby—” She stopped, realizing what she’d revealed, and for a moment nobody spoke. “Daniel is my stepson,” she continued in a low voice. “His mother, Viktor’s first wife, died when he was about six months old. Daniel doesn’t know, not yet at any rate.” Her face was flushed and she looked at all of us with her chin jutting forward defensively. My heart, already hurting for her, ached even more.
“She was home alone with the baby…” I prompted softly.
“She was home alone and Viktor was at the hospital,” Heather continued. “Janice was upstairs, exhausted from caring for an infant, and they think she must have slipped coming down the stairs. She fell two flights. Cracked her skull.”
“How awful!” Julie said.
Heather nodded. “I think Viktor was the one who found her.”
Sarah and I exchanged a quick look. I asked, “Was there an autopsy?”
“I don’t know; it was an accident.” She relaxed just a little, leaning forward to pick up her wineglass, but she twirled it by the stem without taking a sip. “It was sad for Viktor.” She looked up at us when she said his name.
It was easy to picture it, Viktor hitting his exhausted wife and her either falling or being given a shove over the edge of the stairs, tumbling head over heels, cracking her skull against the sharp edge of a stair or a hard floor. I suppressed a shudder, picturing him standing by and watching her bleed out, knowing precisely how long he had to wait until calling the police. Obviously, nothing had happened to him; the police had just accepted his story that his wife had fallen when he wasn’t home, leaving Viktor free to play the mourning widower and move on to another vulnerable woman.
“Do you think he had anything to do with her falling?” Sarah asked the question we were all thinking.
“Of course not,” Heather said, but her voice lacked conviction. She huddled deeper into the couch. “He loved her.”
“Just like he loves you,” I said. “Yet he trashed your kitchen the other day.”
“He was upset,” Heather said. “He’s been under a lot of stress at work.”
“And he’s grabbed you so hard he’s left bruises,” I said.
“He just doesn’t know his own strength,” she said, her voice pleading.
“Has he ever hit you?” Julie asked. I could tell just from looking at her that she was hoping against hope that the answer was no.
Heather hesitated, and then she broke, her placid expression crumbling and a single sob escaping before she brought up her hands to hide her face.
Julie moved first, leaping up to embrace her. “It’s okay,” she said in her most soothing motherly voice. “It’ll be okay.”
“It’s not what you think,” Heather said, the words muffled behind her hands. “He doesn’t mean to hurt me.”
“How big of him,” Sarah said darkly.
Heather accepted the tissues that Julie offered and sat back, swiping at her face and blowing her nose. “There’s so much pressure in Viktor’s job and he says he needs to come home to a clean, quiet house. He can’t handle mess or arguing—he gets so much of that at work.”
“Yeah, well that’s called real life,” Sarah said. “He doesn’t get to live in a bubble at home—life is messy and noisy and life with children just means double the chaos.”
I wouldn’t have put it that way, but Sarah was right. We are always trying to order our lives—writing to-do lists and making schedules, perpetually watching the clock and breaking time into tidy segments—but there are always interruptions and disruptions to our carefully made plans. A child’s sudden fever as you are on your way to a party, a bill that you thought you’d paid that somehow slipped past, the flights delayed, the jobs lost.
It was clear that Sarah didn’t know what it was like to live with someone who couldn’t tolerate any deviation from the schedule, someone who refused to accept that interruptions and disappointment were a natural part of life. I knew what that was like. I pressed a hand against my forehead trying to push back the memories. “Sir, step away from her right now!” Blood spattered and sticky on linoleum. I blinked rapidly to clear the images. As Heather sat there, damp eyes wide and doe-like, I thought of that purpling bruise on her arm, of the large welt on her side, and wondered what had happened when she’d gotten them. Had dinner been late? Had she paid too much attention to Daniel and not enough to Viktor? Had she dared to contradict him when he’d told her that she didn’t work hard enough to make things easy for him?
“He doesn’t mean to hurt me,” Heather said. “He’s a good man—he is!” She directed this last at Sarah, who’d snorted when she said it.
Were Julie and Sarah wondering, as I was, what marks this “good man” had left on Heather’s body that morning? She wore a loose, long-sleeved blouse with a sweater and jeans. It was easy in the winter to cover up the evidence of abuse, but what about in the summer? I tried to think back and remember when she’d worn too much or acted differently, and I suddenly recalled how many times Heather had begged off, last minute, on get-togethers. How often had we planned things only to have her cancel? It all made sense now, and I regretted having been annoyed with her for being so distracted.
From the outside, Viktor, Heather, and Daniel appeared to be the perfect family. The successful doctor, his beautiful wife, and their precious child in their lovely house on the hill. I should have known better.
You never know what happens behind closed doors.
“Viktor needs to get help,” Julie said. “He’s got to realize that this isn’t right.”
“Heather is the one who needs help.” I stood up and fetched the papers from their hiding place, handing them to Heather. “You need to leave him—I compiled a list of different agencies and safe houses that can assist you. And, of course, we’ll help you.”
“I can’t leave,” she said.
“I know you’re worried about Daniel,” I said, “but if you go to the police they could help you, arrange for you and Daniel to go to a shelter, and then you could try and fight for custody.”
Heather shook her head. “You don’t understand,” she said. “I can’t leave. Not now.”
“You’re the only mother he’s ever known,” Sarah said. “We’d testify on your behalf.”
“It’s not just Daniel,” Heather said. “I can’t leave Viktor.”
“Has he threatened you?” I said. “You can file a restraining order.”
But Heather was shaking her head. “It’s not that.”
“What then?” Julie asked.
“I’m pregnant.”
chapter nine
SARAH