Confessions from the Quilting Circle by Maisey Yates (free ebook reader for iphone TXT) 📗

At least, she had tried. She had tried so hard to protect her secrets. She had tried so hard to protect her children. She had tried so hard to protect herself.

And here she was. Telling the key members of the PTA exactly what had been going on in her life. That she was getting divorced.

Because of course that was where this was headed. She had left him, and it would be divorce.

It would be court. It might even be a lot of court, if charges were brought up against him by the district attorney.

She started humming to herself, softly, as she watched her friends wait to get their coffee. Then, her nervous energy became too much to bear and she reached into her bag and took out her quilting square. She looked at the place where she had left off, the crimson strip of fabric halfway tacked to its white background. She stabbed the needle through the fabric, making one neat, even stitch. Perhaps she couldn’t control this interaction, but she could control her stitches.

That was something.

Her stitches, at least, were in order.

Her friends each retrieved their coffee, crossed the room, and sat down at the empty chairs at her table. As she looked across at them, she suddenly realized she had forgotten to put on makeup this morning.

And that was the weirdest thing.

She put it on every day. Like armor, like a shield, and she would have thought that she would want even more of it on a day like today. But it hadn’t even crossed her mind.

She had gotten ready in a fog, pulling on her usual uniform of oversized sweater and black leggings and she had put her hair up, but then she had...walked away from the mirror. And she hadn’t done the rest. She had taken the kids to school, but she’d been lost in her thoughts. Rehearsing an interaction that she had no guidebook for. No script.

“Are you okay?” Alyssa asked.

“I...” She really didn’t know how to answer that. She was sitting there. She was upright. She had been dry eyed for days, and generally functional. She had endured the humiliation of having her mostly naked body photographed in a police station. She had revealed to her family that her husband of so many years had been hurting her. She had found out that she had failed at protecting her children, that her son had been hit by the same man who had used his fists on her and that her protection had only enabled that, and not shielded them from anything.

She had no idea what her future looked like. She wasn’t even really sure what her present looked like, considering that she hadn’t even completed her typical morning routine—and she hadn’t even noticed.

So she decided not to answer the question. Because to say no would make it seem like she’d crumbled—and she hadn’t. Of all the miracles that had come out of this, it was that she was here. Sitting right there, completely un-crumbled. It almost didn’t even seem possible.

But she couldn’t say yes either, because that implied a certainty that she didn’t know if she would ever have again.

“I need to talk to all of you.” She looked down at her hands, down at her wedding ring. She didn’t know why she was putting that on every day. Maybe because somehow she hadn’t quite accepted until she had been sitting here in the coffee shop the divorce was the next step.

Divorce.

She didn’t like that word. Not at all. On her wedding day, she had been so certain that it would never be a word used in her life. In her marriage.

She had spoken vows that she had meant as she had looked into those beautiful blue eyes. But the man behind those eyes had changed. And he was not a man she could be with anymore. And divorce still felt like the wrong word, because she had not made vows to that man. She hadn’t made vows to the man who hit her.

To the man who would strike their son.

No. This was a death.

And that had been in their vows.

Till death do us part.

Their love had died.

The man she believed him to be, was dead.

And she needed to take that ring off.

“I’ve been... I’ve been keeping something from everyone. I... I had David arrested. And... It’s going to come out. It might go to trial.”

She felt like the dorky girl who’d shown up at school in a seasonal denim vest her mom had gotten from Goodwill, not understanding how important fitting in was to Avery. Not understanding that would make her stand out.

Bet you wish it was a denim vest with a snowman on it now...

“David was arrested?” Sandra asked. Her unlined face didn’t move, only her tone expressing shock.

“Yes. I... I really don’t know how to say this. I really don’t. But I’ve been pretending for so long and I can’t anymore. I can’t. When he gets angry he’s started being physically violent with me. And a few days ago he hit my face. That’s where my bruise came from. And my mother and sisters confronted me about it. I thought... I thought it would get better. I thought that it would stop. Or at least that it wouldn’t escalate. But it did. And I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do except... I can’t be with him anymore. I can’t be with him.”

There was utter silence around the table. And all at once Avery wished for Hannah’s rage. Or even Lark’s tears. Both things that had made her uncomfortable at the time, but they were genuine. This silence wasn’t about shock, it was as if they were trying to come to a consensus with their eyes. As if they were afraid of giving an answer that didn’t line up with each other’s.

“Have you...have you been to counseling?”

It was Karen who asked that question.

“No,” Avery said.

“I’m not saying it’s easy but he’s a...he’s a good