Page 74 of His Wounded Heart

I watch as she takes a bite and swallows it down with some sweet tea.

“If I have to eat, so do you,” she admonishes me.

I give a weak chuckle, but I do what she tells me to do.

“You’re right, this is a fantastic sandwich.”

“Told you,” she says with a smile. She seems a little more like the Trenda I’ve come to know. We eat in silence a little longer before I ask another question.

“What about you girls after Drake left? You told me that your mom is basically worthless. Why didn’t someone in the community contact social services?”

I watch as Trenda struggles to swallow her bite, and then drinks down a large gulp of tea.

“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to make this tough on you. There’s a reason I’m asking these questions.” She arches an eyebrow my way. “Yeah, there is the fact that I want to get to know you better. But I should explain something to you, but before I do, can you just tell me this? It was you and Evie who were the two in charge when Drake left, right?”

Trenda nods.

“Were you both trying to hide what was going on at home?”

She nods again. Trenda is always pale, but her complexion looks like parchment, and her brown eyes dominate her face. She stops eating, and I watch as she twists the straw wrapper into a knot.

“I gotta think that is a lot of the reason you weren’t put into the system, and maybe split up. Am I right?”

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “Evie and I were really worried about that. But…” Her eyes drop back down to the table.

She doesn’t continue. Now the wrapper has at least five knots in it, and her shoulders are up near her ears.

“Even before that, when Norville was living with you. When Drake was doing his best to protect you. Nobody called for help. Why?”

Trenda sneaks a peek back up at me, then looks out the window. It’s clear she isn’t going to answer. If I want to get her to open up again I need to share my story.

“I should have led with this. I’m sorry. Let me tell you about my sister.”

She gives me a sideways glance, then looks back out the window. “Sure.”

“She died seven months ago. Her husband killed her. It was one of those murder-suicide deals.”

Did I really just say that so calmly?

Trenda’s entire body turns back to me. Her brown eyes are wide, and they are still filled with pain, but somehow I’m able to tell that some of that pain is on my behalf. Don’t ask me how I know, but I do.

I should have asked for a straw.

I sit there mute for over two minutes, and Trenda doesn’t pressure me. I’m thankful.

“Lizzie had been married to her bastard of a husband for almost ten years. How could I have not known how abusive he was? I read the autopsy report and the witness statements, looked over all of the crime scene photos.”

“They let you do that?”

“No. But I have a friend of a friend, so I got the file.” I take a deep breath as my head pounds and continue.

“Trenda, she had broken ribs, and a broken collarbone, a broken jaw. These things had happened and healed over in the ten years she’d been married to him, and those were just the things that they could find, like some hidden treasure map of agony. How could I have been so unaware?”

I suck down a deep breath.

“The police had talked to her friend Dora, who actually knew something about the life that Lizzie had been living. Dora was going to help Lizzie get away, help her start a new life. Ned would beat her all the time if food wasn’t right. If she didn’t iron something correctly, or if he was just in a bad fucking mood.”

I push my plate to the side of the table and lay my hands flat on the top. I look at them and see scars I’ve gotten over the years in special forces. I haven’t lived an easy life. I wouldn’t change a minute of it. I’m proud of having served my country. I know who I am. I know that before I was promoted through the ranks that I was on the front lines in kill or be killed situations. I know I’ve made a difference, and saved lives. Why couldn’t I have saved my sisters?