Deceit

“Should I take her food up to her?”

“Nah, she’ll come down.” Baxter popped the top of the soda can and took a drink. He eased over to the sliding glass door and gazed at the flower-drenched backyard. A look of satisfaction and ownership.

“It’ll be too bad if she misses the fireworks,” Melissa said. “She’ll probably want to be in bed.”

“She’ll go.”

“You sure?” Melissa wouldn’t mind if Linda stayed home.

Baxter turned his head and surveyed Melissa. She met his eyes. “I’m sure. Because I say she’s going.”

Their gaze locked for a second too long. Melissa’s spine tingled. It was the first time Baxter had said anything overtly about the power he wielded over his wife. Melissa turned back to the sandwiches, mind whirling. What was he really saying? That he could make her do whatever he wanted too? Or that no matter what happened in this house, Baxter could control his wife’s reaction?

Melissa spread mayonnaise on a roll top and placed it over its prepared other half. Lately, even with all her strength and determination, she wondered if she could keep pace with this man. There were depths to him she couldn’t fathom. He had years of experience on her.

“Those about done?” Baxter posed the question casually, as if knew he’d driven home a point and now chose to back off.

If only Melissa knew which point.

“Yeah.” She put the second and third sandwiches together.

Baxter took another drink of soda and sauntered to the intercom on the far wall. Melissa heard the faint click of the talk button. “Hey, babe, dinner’s ready. Come down.”

Once the talk button had been pushed, the intercom line remained open for ten seconds, allowing the other person to answer hands-free. Half that time passed before Linda’s feeble voice responded. “I’m not hungry. You two go ahead.” Sounded like she’d been sleeping.

Baxter compressed the button. “You need to eat. It’ll give you strength for tonight.”

“I really don’t want anything.”

“Linda. Get down here.”

Linda came down.

They were quiet around the table. Linda’s eyes drooped, barely able to stay open. She chewed woodenly, eyes fixed downward.

Melissa sneaked an accusing look at Baxter. Really, what was the point of this? Did it make him feel good just to boss his wife around? Baxter’s glance happened to cross Melissa’s face, then cut back and hung there, as if he read her thoughts. Melissa felt her expression flatten. She lifted one corner of her mouth, then concentrated on her sandwich.

Baxter sniffed. “We’ll leave at nine for the fireworks. They’ll wait until it’s good and dark—around nine thirty —to set’em off.” He was looking at Melissa, but she knew his statement was aimed at Linda.

His wife stopped chewing and closed her eyes, as if mentally weighing her next move. Melissa could almost hear the laden wheels turning in her head.

Linda set down her sandwich and leaned back in her chair. As if bracing herself. “I don’t want to go tonight, honey. I just need to go to bed.” Her voice remained light, not at all in keeping with her body language.

Melissa couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. Linda tried so hard to keep peace. Was a little rest too much to ask?

“You can’t miss tonight.” Baxter’s tone sounded dismissive. “These are my fireworks, remember? I pay for them. What would it look like if you weren’t there?”

Linda focused on her plate. Most of the sandwich remained upon it. “People know I’m sick. They’ll understand.”

“Well, I won’t. You’re going, and that’s all there is to it.”

Baxter’s eyes remained on his wife, but somehow Melissa knew his attention still fixed upon her. Like he was testing her, daring her to interfere. The air around Melissa rumbled, as if a long-threatened earthquake approached. She sat very still.

Linda pushed back her chair and rose. Her face looked stretched, taut.

“Where are you going?” Baxter demanded.

“To bed.”

“You’re not done eating.”

“I’ve had enough. If I’m going tonight, I need to rest now.” Linda looked pointedly at me, then at her husband, as if reminding him their perfect little facade was looking ragged at the edges. She turned away.

Baxter’s expression blackened. He jumped up and grabbed her arm. “Sit down! I didn’t say you could leave.”

She tried to yank away. He gripped her harder. “I said sit down!” With both hands he shoved her back into the chair. Her body hit with a heavy thump. The chair legs bounced against the wood floor.

Linda’s face crumpled. She bent over, her shoulders jerking in a silent sob. Sick as she was, she clearly lacked the energy to pretend. Baxter stood over her, glaring, hands low on his hips. His mouth formed a tight line, one strand of his thick hair out of place. The fire in his eyes dared his wife to make one more stupid move.

“Stop crying.” His words forced through clenched teeth.

Linda ducked lower, stuttering in a long breath. But a wail escaped her throat.

“Shut up!” Baxter punched her behind her right ear.

“Unh!” Linda’s head ricocheted left, and she almost fell out of the chair. She shot out a foot, regained her balance. Her body sank lower, arms thrown up to protect her head. Her whole torso shook.

Melissa’s lungs curled inward. She perched in tight-throated silence, her limbs like stone. Now he’d done it. He’d upended the game board. It was one thing for her to ignore abuse behind a closed door. Now he’d thrown it in her face.

Baxter cursed and threw himself into heavy-legged pacing, his shoulders rounded, head down and shaking. Three steps away, he heaved himself up and whirled around. “See what you’ve done, Linda? Why do you make me have to do this? Why can’t you just do what I say?”

“I’m…s-sorry.” The words rose from Linda, soggy and bloated.

“You’re sorry, all right! What’s Melissa going to think of you now?”

His barbed accusation cut deep into Linda—Melissa could tell by the way the woman shrank, the twitch of her body. Pain and humiliation rolled off her in waves. Melissa sensed the shame far outweighed her physical pain. Shame that the life Linda had modeled for a foster daughter had suddenly been exposed as a lie.

Melissa turned her gaze on Baxter, fear trickling through her veins. She’d been crazy, thinking she could match wits with this man. Now that the charade had disintegrated, nothing would keep him from hitting her next. Could be today. Could be tomorrow. But it would come.

Unless she found a way to stop it.

Baxter raised challenging eyes to Melissa—and the world stopped. What she saw in that burning stare made her head reel. A mad defiance borne of guilt.

Guilt.

In that moment she understood his recent mood. It had nothing to do with a lost sale and everything to do with her. The perfect church-going man who somehow justified beating his wife now faced a new temptation—one he was scared to death he couldn’t conquer.

Melissa’s eyes drifted to Linda, who was still crying. So alone in her chair. For a moment Melissa wanted to lay a comforting hand on her arm.

The crazy thought quickly passed.

She looked again to Baxter, meeting his glare head-on and steady, as if gazing straight into his soul. This was her defining moment. Sides were aligning here, and one wrong step could cost her everything.

Melissa raised her shoulders. And her chin. But she turned her head and tilted it, just a little. Lifted one side of her mouth in a whisper of a knowing smile.

I know what you really want, she told Baxter Jackson, saying nothing. And I’ll never tell.