Well Behaved Wives(65)

Oh God. Ruth felt sick to her stomach.

It was Carrie.

Slowly the woman removed her sunglasses, exposing a black eye. Carrie looked away as she pulled the scarf from her head, and Ruth tried not to gasp audibly. Her friend’s features had been pummeled into unnatural colors that were grotesque for a human. Her cheek showed signs of dried blood, and the split lip was making it hard for her to smile, though she was trying.

“Oh, Carrie!” Ruth hoped her face didn’t show how horrified she was. She didn’t want Carrie to feel even worse. It was one thing to see battered women—strangers Ruth didn’t know—when they showed up at Legal Aid. It was entirely different to see such brutality inflicted on someone she knew. Someone who was her friend.

Someone she’d tried—and failed—to help. She felt angry but determined not to repeat the mistake.

“I’m sorry, Ruth. I . . . I didn’t know where else to go.”

Ruth hurried to Carrie’s side. “You have nothing to apologize for. You did the right thing. All that matters is that you’re here, and safe.” She stroked Carrie’s hair, then looked up at Lillian. She wanted to scream “I told you so” or “This wouldn’t have happened if you’d listened to me.” Instead, she whispered, “We need to call the police.”

Carrie gasped. “No police.”

“Carrie, please.”

Carrie shook her head and winced. Ruth could only imagine how much it must hurt to move. But, she realized, Carrie was right.

Ruth wasn’t sure about the laws in Pennsylvania, wasn’t sure what recourse there was for an abused woman. The police were notoriously reluctant to get between a husband and wife, and she’d seen the results of that inaction too many times to risk it now. Ruth had no idea where the local Legal Aid groups were or who could help Carrie in this situation.

If only Dotsie lived here. She was a social worker. She’d know who to call. Shirley had a phone book and the yellow pages, but Ruth doubted they had a category for spousal abuse.

She looked at Lillian again. “What do we do?”

For once, Lillian was absolutely still. She appeared to be in some sort of shock. This was a vastly different Lillian from the one who, only days ago, was so sure of herself, sure of what she knew about families and privacy and how to behave. A different Lillian from the one who had dismissed Ruth so casually and told her to go home and cook beef.

The silence was broken by the sound of footsteps and the rustle of skirts as Shirley, Harriet, and Irene walked into the living room. “What’s the holdup?” Shirley asked. “The food’s getting—”

“Oh my God!” Irene yelled, and ran to Carrie.

Irene lifted Carrie’s hand to her cheek. “I’m so sorry.” Carrie turned her head and tried to hide. “Who did this to you?”

The question surprised Ruth until she realized Irene wasn’t supposed to know about the beatings. Gratitude filled Ruth.

Carrie didn’t need any more pain than she already had. Didn’t need to know her friends had talked about her behind her back. That they hadn’t believed her. Irene might wear overly green eye shadow, but poorly applied makeup was not a gauge of a person’s worth. What mattered was Irene’s kind, compassionate heart.

Her eyes downcast, Carrie whispered, “Eli.”

“Eli? Your husband?” Shirley sounded bewildered.

“Ruth knew. Tried to warn me.” It was hard to make out all of Carrie’s words, because speech was clearly painful.

“Ruth?” Shirley looked almost angry at the news. “I wish you had told me.”

Ruth had tried to tell people about Carrie, and she had been met with nothing but denial and accusations about her own behavior. Why would Shirley expect her to share anything in those circumstances?

Perhaps she was expected to keep her mother-in-law informed of all the latest rumors—that’s what Lillian had called them. Was that how females in a family worked? Shirley didn’t seem the type of woman who would want to know about anything unpleasant. Ruth had assumed—since everyone else told her to mind her own business—that Shirley would rebuff her too. Perhaps be even more cross with Ruth, since Shirley expected her daughter-in-law to know better than to tarnish anyone’s reputation. In particular, she should know how to make the Appelbaums look good to the outside world.

Shirley pulled a green velvet wing chair nearer to the recliner and took hold of Carrie’s hand.

“I didn’t think you’d believe me,” Ruth said.

Shirley rolled her eyes. “Baloney.”

Shirley was full of surprises. But what really mattered now was that Carrie was here and safe, that Ruth would be able to help her.

Shirley rubbed her fingers lightly against the back of Carrie’s hand. Irene took Carrie’s other hand; the rest sat around them in silence. Ruth struggled to know what to do next.

Carrie stared at the floor, then pulled her hands free from Irene and Shirley and wrung them in her lap. She wore no gloves, but her long sleeves covered her arms and wrists as if they were hiding secrets too. “I didn’t walk into a cabinet or counter. And I didn’t fall. Well, I did fall, but it wasn’t an accident.”

“You made yourself fall?” Harriet asked.

“Don’t be stupid,” Ruth hissed.