Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
NINE MONTHS AGO
Jane glanced over her shoulder at the door to the apartment before she swiped to answer the FaceTime call. It was a busy night at the club and unlikely that Matteo would stop up here to say goodnight to Scarlett. But it was her ninth birthday, so he could surprise them.
“Hello?” she said, once she’d confirmed that there wasn’t any sign of him. Jane wasn’t hiding Mom’s call from Matteo, exactly. But he didn’t like Jane talking to her, and he’d roll his eyes and sigh until she finally hung up. It wasn’t like it was a regular occurrence. They talked maybe twice a year.
Jane held the phone up to Scarlett so Mom could see her.
“Happy birthday, Scarlett!” Mom said buoyantly, waving at the camera. In the background, Jane could see the living room wall with its old family photos, and a corner of brown fabric that was probably Dad’s recliner. Jane wished Mom would FaceTime from the kitchen so she wouldn’t have to look at it.
“Thanks, Grandma,” Scarlett said, shyly.
“How was your day?” Mom asked.
“Good,” Scarlett replied. She was always shy on these calls. Jane couldn’t blame her. In the past nine years, Scarlett had only seen Mom a handful of times, and only over FaceTime. Mom only called when Dad was away on his fishing trips since he had no idea they were in contact at all.
Jane couldn’t imagine what he’d do to Mom if he knew.
Mom chatted with Scarlett for a few minutes about her birthday—Jane was taking her to see the new Disney Princess movie tomorrow since Scarlett was just getting over a cold—and then Jane told her she could go watch TV in the bedroom.
“So,” Mom said, as Jane swung the camera away from Scarlett and in her own direction. “Scarlett is nine. I can’t believe it.”
Jane couldn’t either. Almost a decade had gone by since she’d left Linden Falls, since she’d moved in with Matteo and gotten pregnant and?—
Jane pressed a hand to the latest bruise on her cheek. Almost a decade since she’d been living with this. Sometimes she couldn’t believe she was still here. Somehow, she’d managed to keep putting one foot in front of the other. But she’d looked for a way out—so many times—and she was starting to despair of ever finding one.
Jane peered at Mom through the small phone screen. After that day she’d asked for money and Mom had turned her down, she’d never asked again. She’d never let Mom know that her life was anything other than fine. Jane could handle these once-in-a-blue-moon calls so Mom could see Scarlett. But she couldn’t handle Mom knowing she needed help and refusing to give it. So, Jane had never told her the truth.
But when she pulled her hand away from her cheek, she realized her mistake. Mom’s eyes widened, and she gasped. “Jane, what happened to you?”
Jane swore under her breath. She’d forgotten to hide the mark with make-up. They hadn’t gone anywhere today, so she hadn’t done her usual routine of cover-up, foundation, and powder. The ugly purple bruise was right there in the open.
“Um…” She searched for an excuse. “I ran into a cabinet. ”
But Mom’s face screwed up suspiciously. That was the kind of excuse Jane remembered her using when Dad had left similar marks. “Did Matteo do that to you?”
“Mom, I have to go.”
“Jane.” Mom cut her off. “How long had this been going on?”
“It hasn’t. It was an accident. I have to go.”
“I thought he was such a good man. I had no idea…” Mom began, but Jane hung up before she could finish the sentence.
Six months later, Jane answered another FaceTime call from Mom. She looked at the phone buzzing in her hand, and then reflexively glanced at the door to check that Matteo wasn’t around. Mom usually texted her before she called, and Jane considered letting it go to voicemail. Now that Mom knew Matteo had hit her, she’d called four times in the last six months to check up on Jane. She’d even asked if there was any way for Jane to leave him. That was ironic.
With a sigh, Jane swiped to answer. She might as well get it over with and tell Mom to butt out once and for all. But when Mom’s face came onto the screen, Jane forgot everything she was going to say. Because Mom’s face was bright red and splotchy, her nose swollen, eyes wet with tears.
“Are you okay?” Jane gasped. It still had the power to gut her, seeing her mom like this.
“It’s your father,” Mom said, her voice wobbling so much Jane could hardly understand her.
Jane stood up straight. “Did he hurt you?”
“No.” Mom held up a tissue, wiping her eyes and then blowing her nose. “He’s—your father is dead.”
Jane reeled backward, her calves hitting the couch. Slowly, she sank down into the cushions. She opened her mouth, but no words would come out. First came the shock, but it was followed by a feeling she couldn’t quite identify. A loosening of her shoulders, a heaviness lifting from her chest.
Oh God, it was relief .
Jane was relieved, and it was terrible, and true. Dad would never hurt Mom again. He’d never hurt anyone. She closed her eyes, and a long-buried memory came back to her. It had felt like time had slowed down with each jolt of the staircase hitting her body, leaving cracks and bruises on her skin and bones and somewhere deep inside her.
“Jane,” Mom said, her shoulders shaking with sobs. “I need you. I need help. Can you come for a visit?”
Jane’s breath caught. “You want me to… come home ?”
Mom gave a teary nod. “Just for a little bit. You and Scarlett.”
Home . Jane turned that word over in her mind. She never thought she could go back. But it was safe now. Finally. And with that came another thought. A wonderful revelation, like a cool breeze blowing in off the Pacific Ocean.
Was this finally her chance to be free?