CW- Domestic violence. Language.
Ephesians 5:22-24 King James Version (KJV)829Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡE7RYGI6Zae
22 Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as unto the Lord.829Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡN0nPK04xjs
23 For the husband is the head of the wife, even as Christ is the head of the church: and he is the saviour of the body.829Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAKOb4CRFct
24 Therefore as the church is subject unto Christ, so let the wives be to their own husbands in every thing.
Those three verses were the law of the house growing up. Daddy usually forgot about the parts after that, even if Momma reminded him. He never loved her as he loved himself. He never loved anything like he loved himself. I asked Momma why she stayed with him, once. She just smiled gently at me, her lip still bleeding as she strained against the pain. “God will turn his heart one day. Our duty as women is to let our love and obedience be His tools to lead men like your father to Grace,” she told me.
“But why do you have to suffer? Why can't he just work it out with God on his own?” I whined, dabbing at the cut on her lips that had been so perfectly painted before.
She took my hand and pressed it against her cheek. “We suffer for them because we are stronger than them. You'll understand one day when you find a sinful boy of your own to love.”
Daddy never raised a hand to me. He ignored me most of the time instead. I could go weeks without him saying my name, and even longer without a hug or a kiss. He'd wanted a boy to carry on the Dunbar name and the family business. Not only was I not the son he wanted, I'd ruined his chance of ever having one. Momma's pregnancy had nearly killed her, and the doctors said I was all they'd ever have. He blamed me for it, but he took it out on Momma.
I tried to make him happy. I wasn't his son, but I could be just as good. Better even! I was studious and obedient. I tried to do the best at anything I did. It didn't matter what it was. If it could be done perfectly or I could beat somebody else, I was unstoppable. With a heart full of girlish hope, I presented myself proudly to him with every accomplishment. I imagined that one day, he would see all of my hard work and take me in his arms. I imagined that he'd finally love me. That day never came. I was a ghost to him no matter what I did. There was one thing I could never do and that was all that mattered. I wasn't a boy and I never would be.
As I got older it made me angry that he wouldn't even give me a chance to work in the family business. It was brutal, but I could handle it. I was already involved to a point. Half the time I was the person who paid the trappers for the cats and raccoons they dropped off. I had to take care of the scruffy stray dogs that were left on the doorstep until they were dragged off to their death. I had to shoot the coyotes that scavenged the dead bait animals he dumped in the field next to the house. I knew full well he was training fighting dogs. Still, Daddy acted like what he and my cousins did in the barn was a secret that my delicate sensibilities could never handle. I resented him for it, maybe even more than I resented him not loving me.
Knowing all that, it wasn't really a surprise to anyone that I latched on to the first boy I ever saw Daddy take an instant dislike to. I was 17 and bitter. I wanted to rebel and I found the one way I could. Roger Bentley had a crooked smile and eyes filled with stars. I fell in love with that scrawny, tanned lowlife the instant I saw him. He was an errand boy for the man Daddy bought steroids and tranquilizers from. I don't know what set Daddy off about him that day. Roger hadn't been on the farm but twenty minutes before my father marched into the house looking for a shotgun. Roger had taken that as his cue to get lost, but not without winking at me as I watched him from the porch.
I waited for Daddy to go back inside with the gun before I made a beeline for Cousin Mikey. He'd been watching the whole display just like I had. “Who was that?” I asked excitedly. I was keeping an eye out for Daddy coming back as I did.
Mikey smirked at me suspiciously. “Nobody important. He works for Mr. Pomeroy.”
I gazed out towards our visitor's truck at it disappeared. My heart was fluttering around in my chest like a bird trying to escape. “What's his name?”
“Roger.”
“Do you know where he hangs out?” I asked hopefully.
Mikey grunted at me. He knew what I was getting at well enough. “Try the bowling alley. He'll show up there eventually. He always does.”
Just as Mikey had said, Roger showed up at the alley that night. It didn't take much to catch his eye.
Things between Roger and me were like a dream. I had never known a man could be gentle. He was rough around the edges, but I was always in his heart. He never treated me like a disappointment. He never ignored me. I saw in him what Momma probably saw in Daddy once. I convinced myself that Roger could be saved from that life with the love and obedience of a good woman. I could make a Godly man of him. I just knew it.
One night I was stretched out across his lap on the porch of his single-wide, looking up at the stars as we passed a joint between us. I was so warm and happy. He kept playing with my hair and humming the song he was working on. “Do you ever just want to… just go?”
He roused from his mental concert and looked down at me with that crooked smile of his. “All the time.”
“We should then. Just me and you. We can go anywhere.”
Whenever he was thinking, he'd look off a little ways in the distance. His eyes, those warm brown skies made of cleverness and love, would be half-hooded. He finally looked back at me. “I don't know…. We could go to LA. I could try to get on with a band.”
I giggled. “I think I'd like LA…. You know I mean it right? We don't have to stay here. You are too much for this stupid little town.”
He was quiet again, taking a long, contemplative hit. “Why are you so sweet to me?”
“Because I love you, you dumb dumb. And I know you and me can do anything together. Be anything we want.”
“Alright. Let's do it,” he said softly. “Me and you.”
We spent the rest of that night planning and scheming. The only thing between us and escape was money, so that was our first goal. We were going to save up enough cash to get out of town.
I dropped out of school and shacked up with him not too long after that. I thought Daddy was gonna kill Roger the night I moved out. It was maybe the only time I witnessed Daddy hearing the voice of God calling to him through Momma. She had put herself between us and pleaded with him to just let me go. She soothed him out of that red fury just long enough for me and Roger to get away with a few of my things.
Roger was doing a couple of jobs then. He worked on the farms when there was work to be had. He was running drugs for Mr. Pomeroy. He was even doing some enforcement work for him every now and then. He worked as hard as any 20 year old man could. I never questioned why he was always broke. I guessed he was just saving it all up for our fairytale ending.
I started working in town as a motel maid. When the money was too tight for food and rent, I was selling drugs to guests, too. I wasn't proud of it, but I had a goal. It was all for the dream. It was always for us.
I found out I was pregnant a few months after I moved in with Roger. I thought he would be happy. Kids were definitely part of the life we planned to live. This was earlier than intended, but not something we didn't want. When I told him, a few of those stars in his eyes went out. He wouldn't tell me why he wasn't happy. He just… wasn't.
I was crushed when he got up and left that night. He didn't come back again until the next afternoon. Even then, he was silent.
I noticed shortly after I'd told him he was going to be a father that we suddenly had more money. He wasn't staying out all hours on jobs either. Mr. Pomeroy was not the generous sort, and definitely wasn't a family man. I doubted this new stability was his doing. Roger was shifty on the entire matter. He asked me to trust him, so I did. It was all I could do.
He came home one afternoon and put a roll of twenties on the counter beside me. It was the most money he'd ever brought home. He took me in his arms and kissed my forehead. “Baby,” he said. “I'm sorry about how I've been. I am happy. I just… I was afraid I couldn't do right by you.”
I hugged him back. “I wasn't worried for a minute,” I lied. That crooked smile of his as he let me go made my heart leap. I had missed it so badly.
“I got something for you.” He dug around in his pocket before he took a knee with a nervous laugh. I had to giggle as he awkwardly tried to arrange himself. The kitchen of our trailer was too narrow for how he tried to kneel at first. He ended up just standing. “I know it ain't much, but,” he held out that dainty little ring to me. It sparkled like his eyes. “Will you marry me, Hanna Julie Dunbar?”
I cried as I told him yes. It was happy tears, of course. For the first time I really felt like this was all real. We were going to be man and wife. We'd have a baby of our own to love and cherish. I managed to stifle my tears long enough to get my ring on and look at the cash he'd brought. “Is it enough? Can we leave tonight? Go to a courthouse somewhere and start fresh, just like we wanted?” There was more money in that wad than I made in two months as a maid.
Roger didn't say anything at first. He was thinking as he stared out the kitchen window. He finally bowed his head. “We ain't gonna be able to go for awhile. We still will, but… it might be like a year? We can still go to the courthouse. Hell, I'll drive us there right now if you want.”
I felt a pang of disappointment. “Did you borrow this money?” I asked, turning it over in my hands.
“Ehhh… it's a long story. Just give me a little time. That's all I'm askin,” he told me softly.
That made me so angry but I held my tongue. Daddy had shut me out because he thought I was weak. I knew Roger didn't think that. I told myself he was trying to protect me like a good man was meant to. I just needed to be patient. We'd follow our dreams out of there soon.
We got married by a Justice of the Peace a few days later. He borrowed a suit from one of Pomeroy's other boys. It was a little too big for him, but he looked handsome anyway. Momma got one of my cousins to sneak her down to the courthouse so she could watch. I wore a nice little sundress she bought me at the secondhand store in town. I was floating on a cloud when we said our I do's.
Life got alot harder after that day. I started to understand what Momma meant back then about loving sinful men. Roger tried to be good at first, but he was drawn further into the life of iniquity we were trying to leave. God tested me. I think it was because Roger was not strong enough. He needed someone to show Roger the way to find grace in suffering. I bared the cross that I was given, as hard as it was.
It was always for him. It was always for the dream.
My pregnancy was difficult. I had inherited the same problem Momma had, but we didn't know it until I was a few months in. My uterus wasn't the right shape. The doctor said I might not be able to carry a baby to full term. I lived in terror of losing that little light inside me after that. Momma never told me until that day I wasn't her only pregnancy. I was just the only one that survived. I wished she hadn't told me.
The news of my delicate condition scared Roger. He never said as much, but he got real cautious when it came to talking about the future. He all but gave up on making a place for our baby. Money started coming up short like it had before. He started working late again. Sometimes he'd be gone for days. He'd come back smelling like whiskey and acting like nothing had happened. He wouldn't even ask how I'd been while he was gone.
It was hard to give him hope when I had so little of my own. I should have done better.
I'm thankful that Momma was there. She moved in with me for the last few weeks of my pregnancy since I never knew when my husband would be around. Even Daddy started coming by to check on me. It made me happy that he cared, but at the same time it was worse to have him there. I was terrified that if something happened he'd blame me and I'd go back to being a ghost.
Jason Peter Bentley decided to come into the world a few weeks earlier than expected. He was an eager little boy from the start I guess. It started with a little bleeding. The doctors had said to expect that when we got closer, especially with my condition. But the bleeding didn't stop like they said it would. Slowly but surely it got worse. The drive to the hospital was one of the most terrifying times of my life. I was afraid I was going lose my baby boy. I thought I was going to die. There was so, so much blood by the time we got there. I was rushed into surgery for an emergency C-section almost as soon as the doctor saw me. I was delirious from the blood loss and the stress. Through it all Momma tried to keep me calm until I finally succumbed to the drugs I was given.
I dreamt that Daddy watched me like he was waiting for me to disappoint him. I dreamt that no one could find Roger.
Both were true. When I woke up in recovery, Momma and Daddy were both there. Roger was not. My parents gushed that my little Jay was OK despite the ordeal. He was smaller than he was supposed to be, but he was a fighter from the start.
Neither of them would tell me where my husband was. My heart hurt to know that, for a time, I didn't even care. My everything wasn't for him anymore. It was for Jason, my little Blue Jay, my world.
When he finally turned up, Roger became jealous of the attention I gave our son almost immediately. I had hoped that he would fall in love with our baby's happy blue eyes. I yearned for the man with the crooked smile and starry eyes to sit beside his child's crib and sing him the songs he used to write. That never happened though.
I was still recovering. I was tired all the time. I could barely take care of myself on top of our baby boy. I couldn't tend to Roger's every need, too. He resented that, and Jay's constant crying didn't help the matter. The only thing that kept me from just laying down and giving up from the stress of a colicky baby and a bitter husband was Momma. She was always there to tell me that there was no shame in not being able to do it all, usually as she was taking Jay out of my arms so I could sleep. She told me to be patient with Roger. She reminded me I wasn't the only one adjusting to our new lives.
Roger was not so much adjusting to our new lives as he was entering a downward spiral by the time Momma moved back home. Daddy, for all his vices, was not a drinker. The cruelties he did were done with a clear mind and with a goal. If you knew the goal, you could head off the pain. I didn't know how to handle Roger's drunken anger when it started though. It was senseless. At first it was just screaming and breaking things. I chanted Ephesians 5:22-24 in my mind like it would ward away his demons. It did nothing except keep me there too long at his side.
He hit me a few times. That alone wouldn't have sent me packing. He just needed God to turn his heart like Momma always said. My love and obedience were His tools. I was being tested.
It was all for us. It was a desperate prayer.
Then he hit Jay.
That night is a blur. I was in the kitchen when I heard Jay scream in pain and Roger start yelling over him. Roger's words were slurred so badly that they were unintelligible.
I don't remember grabbing the knife beside me on the counter on my way to see what had happened.
Jay was on the floor, trying to breathe through his sobs. Every wet, pathetic gasp burned my soul. It felt like fire and ice in my chest. Roger was standing above him. From his gesturing to the mess on the floor I guessed something had gotten knocked over.
I felt my heart stop when Roger lifted his foot. All thoughts of being a good and Godly wife died. I spoke his name like a pronouncement of the Holy Host. He turned unsteadily to look at me as I stood in the doorway clutching a steak knife so hard my fingernails dug into my skin and my knuckles turned white. I would have killed him. I am not ashamed to admit it. I would have gladly condemned my soul to Hell for my baby. I think Roger knew it, too. He took a step away from our sobbing child. He sputtered a barely intelligible, “fuck you,” before staggering out the front door.
That was the last time I saw Roger. Daddy was there to take us home minutes after I called them. Living with my parents wasn't ideal, but I didn't have the money to leave. At the very least I knew no one would lay a finger on my baby boy in my Daddy's house. Jay was his life.
I'd had four peaceful years before Roger's sins caught up to me and our son. I'd heard that Roger had moved to Versailles to get outta dodge on something going on with Mr. Pomeroy. I'd heard he'd stolen drugs or money. That sounded about right. I honestly didn't care what happened to him, even if he was still technically my husband. I knew I had failed my test from God already and I had no interest in redeeming myself where the father of my son was concerned.
It is strange to look back on that day. It feels like it's still happening. Repeating. Repeating. Over and over. I guess this is what Hell is. Watching your failure, knowing a million ways you could have stopped it, but never being able to fix it. It feels like if I could just go back to that first day when Roger winked at me, or go back to pass God's test, be a good wife, drag Roger kicking and screaming out of Youngstown, I could stop the replay. But it's just a memory. There is nothing I can do. It's an unending echo of those final moments.
The sun was shining. It was a little windy ahead of a storm coming on that afternoon. Momma was loading the groceries into the trunk while I got Jay to settle down in the back seat. He was so full of energy. He's been driving me batty all day, but I couldn't be mad at my angel's bright eyes and happy laugh. It was maddening sometimes. He was going to be a ladykiller when he grew up. I just knew it.
“Hannah Bentley?”
I heard my name. The voice sounded familiar. I looked up, squinting against the sun reflected off the bright chrome of the man's grille. “Yessir?”
“Sorry, hun. Your husband fucked up.""Mr. Pomeroy?" I asked. That's who it sounded like.829Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrF2vTbIbeb
It happened so fast. I didn't see it coming. Neither did Momma. I felt terrible pain rip through my chest, but it felt… far away. My ears were ringing from the blast. I could hear Jay screaming. I could hear Momma screaming. There was another blast. I didn't feel that one. I was starting not to feel anything at all. I tried to hold on to the open car door, but my hands weren't cooperating. My feet weren't either.
The edges of the world were turning black. I barely registered my baby boy covered in blood. My baby boy. My world. It was all for him. I hope knows that. I couldn't see Momma. I hoped she was OK.
And then, just like that. Snap!
Ephesians 5:22-24 King James Version (KJV)829Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYqZA8qBf26
22 Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as unto the Lord.829Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡElczEJAHDY
23 For the husband is the head of the wife, even as Christ is the head of the church: and he is the saviour of the body.829Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiZYBZs3vJq
24 Therefore as the church is subject unto Christ, so let the wives be to their own husbands in every thing.
Those three verses were the law of the house growing up. Daddy usually forgot about the parts after that, even if Momma reminded him. He never loved her as he loved himself. He never loved anything like he loved himself. I asked Momma why she stayed with him, once. She just smiled gently at me, her lip still bleeding as she strained against the pain. “God will turn his heart one day. Our duty as women is to let our love and obedience be His tools to lead men like your father to Grace,” she told me.
*************
Thank you for reading! If you spot anything that needs to be fixed, let me know. If you want to know more about Jason Bentley and his father, please check out The True Covenant as they become prominent characters later in the series.829Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡM1I3m3tcic
