Page 42 of Jolene's Justice

The realization struck him hard that things were awry in his relationship, and he had no idea how to set them right. Accepting the harsh reality that he’d let his marriage deteriorate to physical abuse, he’d felt lost and helpless, with nowhere to turn.

“You live with the shame every day.Youlet your marriage fail.Youdid something to upset her.Youare at fault for all of it.”

“None of it was your fault,” she said softly. “You know that, right?”

His desire to agree was overshadowed by years of conditioning that caused him to constantly second-guess himself. Theoretically, he knew it to be true. Angelica was unstable. He often questioned if she had an untreated mental illness and had once begged her to seek professional help. That had backfired in a big way. In her warped mind, she was never the one with the problem. It was always his fault she had lashed out at him. The inconsistency of it all was frustrating and hard to predict. A maddening way to live. She’d once stabbed him in the hand with a fork for making a noise as he ate.

And still, he’d hoped she’d get help. She’d finally see what she was doing to their marriage. That her moments of rage and violence were not normal. He couldn’t help but think that if she’d gotten help, maybe it would have saved them. Savedhimfrom years of suffering and shame.

A furrow appeared on Jolene’s forehead as she tipped her chin up to look at him. Her expectant expression made him realize he had been silent for too long, leaving her question unanswered. The weight of it hung in the air, leaving him vulnerable and exposed.

Her expression changed, becoming full of strength, shining with a steadfast assuredness. “You arenotat fault,” she insisted with unwavering eye contact. “I will keep telling you that until you believe it. You. Are. Not. At. Fault.” Speaking with a quiet, desperate firmness, she punctuated each word with absolute certainty. A smile played at the corners of his lips in response to her vehement tone.

Shifting his hand from the back of the couch to her shoulder, he gently stroked her skin, feeling the goose bumps rise as he drew her closer. He closed his eyes and savored the sensation of her body pressed against his. She adjusted the position of their clasped hands until their fingers intertwined. Palm against palm. As he gazed down at their hands, he suddenly became aware of the stark disproportion in their sizes. Her fingers were delicate and slender. In contrast, his own seemed rough and calloused, the skin weathered from years of hard work. He couldn’t explain why, but seeing their mismatched hands together made him feel an overwhelming desire to shield her from harm. It was a strange moment, and one that he couldn’t quite shake. The fear of something happening to her was like a living beast inside his chest, constantly clawing at him.

He leaned in and kissed her temple, breathing in the refreshing scent of citrus that surrounded her. “Thank you.” Her head rested on his shoulder as she settled into the crook of his arm. He couldn’t believe that she had chosen to be here with him in this moment. He was touched by the fact that she had put aside her hurt and anger and was focusing completely on him. The fact that she was fighting his internal demons with such fervor filled him with wonder and gratitude.

As they sat there, surrounded by the beauty of nature, she idly twirled his fingers between her own. The gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze and the soft chirping of crickets provided a soothing soundtrack to the moment. He took a deep breath and smelled the sweet fragrance of budding spring flowers and the fresh scent of cut grass from his morning work on the lawn. Yet the air held the pungent tinge of ozone that preceded a storm. Despite being lost in thought, they were both fully present, soaking in every sensation that the natural world had to offer.

“What made you finally decide to leave?” Jolene asked.

He took a deep breath before responding, the answer heavy on his tongue. “My dad.” The memory of the humiliating experience lingered in his mind long after it was over. The fact that his dad—his role model—had witnessed his shame still tied his gut up in knots, even to this day. “My parents came for a visit and arrived earlier than expected. They’d gone to the guest room to rest before dinner. Angelica arrived home and didn’t know they were there yet. She laid into me immediately because I’d left a spoon in the sink. It escalated quickly. Before I knew it, she was punching and kicking me. Her favorite target was my balls, and she got in a good kick that sent me to my knees.”

“Oh God,” she gasped, as if she could feel his pain.

“That’s when she noticed my father standing at the end of the hall. He had his phone out. I thought he was calling the police, but no. He was recording the whole ugly scene. It was like someone had flipped a switch on her. She reverted into the sweet, affectionate woman my parents knew and loved.

“By that time, my dad had seen enough. He threatened to call the police if she didn’t get out. She laughed and told him nobody would believe him. When he showed her the video he’d taken, she slammed out of the house.”

He couldn’t believe she had backed down when she’d stormed out. She’d never once backed down when he threatened to report her. Even with the proof of his injuries, she always maintained that no one would take him seriously. It was as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders and he could finally breathe again. His parents had helped him pack up and leave that night. His mom had been confused at first, but after his dad had talked to her, she was all-in. To this day, Finch still didn’t know what his dad had told her, but he was sure he’d never shared the video with her.

They took him to their home in western Maryland and hooked him up with a lawyer. It had been a humiliating experience telling Alan everything that had happened in his marriage. He’d been documenting things for years. All the injuries. The weapons she’d used on him, whether it was a dish being thrown at his head, boiling water poured on his arm, or a knife. He had pictures of everything. Not to mention his dad’s video. He’d filed for divorce that very day, but it still took five long years before he was finally done. Five years of always looking over his shoulder, wondering if she’d come at him. She would occasionally pop up out of nowhere like she had at the gala, but thankfully, she’d never been violent at those times. Just verbally berated him. He tried to tune it out, but her words always found their way through the cracks.

Those times had been hard enough after experiencing freedom away from her. But what really killed him the most was knowing that his dad had seen it. In those weeks after he’d left, he’d grown increasingly despondent, and his dad had noticed.

Finch sat at his parents’ breakfast table one morning after his mom had left for one of her club meetings. He had a bowl of cereal in front of him but couldn’t bring himself to eat. His dad had come in and sat down across from him. They sat in silence for a while. Duncan Mobey had never been a big talker. But then his dad’s mouth opened, and a torrent of words spilled forth. Words that settled deep in his tattered soul.

“I’m proud of you, kid.” Finch’s jaw dropped as his gaze shot up to his dad. In his mind, there was nothing that could make his dad feel a sense of pride in him. “I see you now, Atty. I see the type of man you’ve become despite what you’d been through. And I couldn’t be more proud.”

The sting of unshed tears tingled at the back of his nose. Regardless of the abuse, his marriage had failed, and he had not yet allowed himself to grieve and was on the brink of a breakdown. His dad’s words just might send him over the edge.

“I was already proud of you. You’ve served this country with honor. You’ve grown into a man I can respect. But now, I see you in a different light. You have exceeded my expectations and have proven to be an exceptional man.”

Finch scoffed. He wasn’t so sure about that, but before he could counter Duncan’s words, he continued. “Ten years you’ve been married to her, and I’m betting that wasn’t the first time she attacked you.” Duncan’s eyes dropped to the scar on Finch’s wrist. Finch pulled his hand back and put it in his lap under the table, out of view. “She was brutal. Vicious. And you didn’t raise a hand against her to stop her. That shows an incredible strength. You knew that you were bigger and stronger than her and could have very easily restrained her. But you didn’t.”

“I didn’t want to hurt her,” he admitted.

“I know. Despite everything, you still loved her.”

“I hated her, too.”

“I know. But you didn’t let that hate control you. You kept the love first and foremost in your heart. And someday, you’ll find the right woman to shower that love on. But right now, it’s time to let go. It’s time to heal.”

He still hated that his dad had seen firsthand what he’d been through, but he’d tried to hold on to his words. “My dad said he was proud of me,” he told Jolene. “He’d seen my shame, and he still told me he was proud of me. I’m still not sure I deserve those words.”

Chapter 18

Withtearsinhereyes, Jolene shifted until she was straddling his lap. She wanted to be absolutely sure he heard what she had to say. “I am such an idiot.” She spoke with conviction, determined to get her point across. He opened his mouth to argue, but she put a finger over his lips. “I’m an idiot because I knew the type of man you were and I allowed my past experiences to cloud that truth.”

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