“But you must realize that what you’re doing is far more than being ready in case Danny’s in trouble,” she continued. “You being out there, watching, gives Marie extra strength, too. And it reminds her that she can’t give in and contact Devon because everyone would know and he’d be the one in trouble if he came around. She might not be able to protect herself, but she’s been programmed to protect him.”
The insight struck him hard. He’d been doing a lot of reading on domestic violence over the past three months. And gained more understanding in five minutes of conversation with Miranda. Her experience spoke to him.
Probably more than she knew.
Or maybe because he knew.
“She’s at possibly the most critical point in her life,” Miranda was saying, her voice low as she leaned closer to him. Tad could feel her intensity.
“If she makes it through this total break, if she can stay out from under Devon’s mental control long enough to free her own thoughts from him again, to counteract his voice in her head, then she’ll be able to work on recovery and building a new and happy life.”
He felt like he’d just slipped a bit deeper into Miranda’s own psyche. Wanted to be there. But only with her permission.
“I’ll do whatever I can to help,” he told her. And added, “If there’s more I can do, please let me know.”
He’d do whatever it took to help Marie stay out of harm’s way. To help her win this victory over evil. And if he got any insights into how he could help Miranda as well, all the better.
“I will,” she said. “I know that when you came to see Danny at the office, that really helped.”
Dropping his pants, she meant. He’d relived that one a dozen or more times in the days since, mostly with mortification.
But he wasn’t sure he’d do anything differently...
Ends and means and all that stuff.
“If I tell you something, do you think you can keep it to yourself?” she asked.
“Of course.” What else could he say? The more of her secrets he knew, the better he’d be prepared to protect her.
Not that she was in any danger. He’d just feel relieved knowing firsthand that her husband was really gone.
“When Marie was in the office the other day I gave her my personal cell number,” she told him. She sipped from the coffee he’d pretty much forgotten was there. But she met his gaze—standing up for the choice she’d made. Standing by it.
“Paranoia can be a lasting result of being a victim of domestic violence. When your trust is betrayed on such an intimate level—”
She broke off, and he needed to take her hands in his, or preferably, take her in his arms, let her know he’d die before he allowed anyone to hurt her again.
“I’ll keep an eye on her, too, if you’d like.” There was only so much he could do for Miranda at the moment. But he could help Marie get through the things he hadn’t been there to help Miranda with. The first steps of the difficult journey to freedom.
Surprisingly, Miranda shook her head. “If she found out, it could do more harm than good,” she said. “The point is for her to learn to trust herself. To be able to rely on herself, on her own strengths. To discern the difference between being dependent and asking for help. No one’s good at everything. She needs to do all she can, and to know when she needs help and then ask for it.”
He got that. More than he ever had before.
And thinking of her son’s training wheels two days before, he wondered where Miranda was in the process.
“That’s why I gave her my number,” she told him. “It’
s not illegal or wrong or anything for me to do that, but it does go outside normal medical protocol. I just saw a chance to give her a tool to help her fight her demons and knew I had to do it.”
And she was telling him this because...
She didn’t trust herself all the time? Would she ever?
Even when you won the battle and became a survivor instead of a victim, did you ever fully lose the sense of having been there once? Did anyone?
Life shaped people. Changed them.
“I think it’s great that you did that,” he told Miranda now, meaning the words. She’d been dealt a horrendous hand, and she’d saved herself.