Well Behaved Wives(86)

Lillian, Irene, and Harriet joined them on the steps, forming a solid wall of women.

“We’re ready when you are.” Irene kept her voice low.

“But this wasn’t the plan,” Harriet said. Everyone turned to her. “I’m just worried that we don’t know what we’re doing.”

“Nothing matters right now except Carrie and her safety,” Shirley said, looking at Harriet, who nodded. She shifted her gaze to Lillian. “Not what anyone thought.” She looked back at Harriet. “Or what was planned. There was a troubling telephone call, and we’re here to make sure Carrie is okay.”

“She’s not okay. We’re wasting time,” Ruth said.

Shirley knocked on the door. “Let me do the talking.”

Ruth stepped down one step, now behind Shirley and next to Lillian, who, though she had dismissed Eli’s cruelty at one time, looked to be totally on board to assist now.

Shirley rang the doorbell. No answer.

“Carrie?” She yelled at the door as if it were an intercom.

Ruth held her breath as they listened. That’s how it felt—like all airflow had stopped. In her, and around her.

“Carrie?” Shirley yelled again into an imaginary microphone. “You said you were coming over for lunch. You didn’t show up, and we missed you. We’re just making sure you’re okay.”

No reply, not a sound from inside the house.

Ruth’s heart hammered so loud she was surprised Carrie’s neighbors weren’t staring out the window at the racket. Had the neighbors heard Shirley too?

Shirley tried the doorknob, turned to the girls, and shrugged.

“It’s unlocked,” she said. “I’m going in.”

Harriet grabbed her arm. “Should you?”

“Someone has to,” Shirley said. “You can wait out here.”

“I’m coming with you,” Ruth said.

“Me too,” echoed Lillian and Irene.

Shirley turned the knob and pushed open the door. They stepped inside and crowded into the foyer. The gray day rendered the small space dark, and then, as her eyes adjusted, Ruth’s sight line was clear. Carrie was lying on her back on a green sofa.

Next to her, kneeling on the floor, his back to the group, his head hanging down—was Eli.

The brute. Ruth’s fear evaporated, replaced by anger. She growled. Shirley reached out to hold Ruth back, but she pushed her away. There was a house full of witnesses—what could Eli do? They could all tell the police. Someone would have to listen.

Ruth ran around him, closer to Carrie’s head than her feet. Carrie moaned and Eli looked up, mouth open.

“Who are you?” Eli said. He turned and saw the others.

Another moan from Carrie, this time even weaker.

“Oh, honey.” Eli laid his cheek on Carrie’s hand. She drew the hand away, but he grabbed it anyway, patted it. “You fell,” he said. Carrie glanced at Ruth with bloodshot eyes. Ruth hoped they were only red from crying.

Eli looked up at Ruth. “You know she’s expecting.”

“Yes, we know about the baby.” Shirley walked over and stood next to Ruth. “We’re going to take her to the doctor.”

“No!” Eli rose to his feet.

He was a small man, short and thin, with combed-back hair and black-framed glasses. He looked . . . safe. Harmless. This was a man who had golfed with Asher. Maybe even had lunch or drinks with him when the game was over. He was the last guy anyone would expect to get violent.

Eli noticed the women glowering at him and lowered his voice. “I mean, I’ll take her. I’m her husband.”

Carrie’s eyes fluttered wide open. “What’s going on? Why are you all here?”

“You tell us,” Ruth said. “You didn’t show up for lunch, so we came to check on you.” Ruth knew it was best to not mention they knew about the abuse, lest Eli suspect Carrie wanted to escape.

Carrie glanced at Eli, looking confused.

“I must’ve fallen.” Carrie stared at Ruth. “You know how clumsy I am.”

Ruth knew her friend was far from clumsy. This was Carrie’s furtive, conspiratorial cry for help. Ruth wouldn’t let her down. She nodded but said nothing.

“Thank you for checking in, ladies,” Eli said, his voice urbane, self-assured. The perfect vice-principal. By that time, Lillian was holding Carrie’s hand, and Irene was stroking her forehead. “But I’ll take care of my wife,” Eli said. “This is none of your business.”

“You’re wrong!” Harriet said.

A glint of light appeared above Eli and whipped across the air like a shooting star.

Thud.

Someone or something had made contact, but it had happened so fast, and the room was so dim, Ruth wasn’t entirely sure what had happened.

She looked at Eli. He wobbled slightly. He rubbed his shoulder and swung around, revealing Harriet with a metal bucket in one hand.

Harriet? Had Harriet just hit Eli? She’d been the most skeptical about the abuse Carrie had suffered. Perhaps seeing it for herself had touched something in her. Some strong sense of injustice. Or some sense that her denial had contributed to yet another injury to her friend.

“What the hell?” Eli yelled.

“Leave her alone,” Harriet said, her face pale, but calm and determined.