Open Eyes (Open Skies)

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Authors: Marysol James
Tags: Romance, Contemporary, Sex, Romantic
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couldn’t wait for the police and courts to drag things out, all of us stuck in the same town while it was going on. I just – I just knew that Carl would hurt us. I was deathly afraid that he’d kill Sonia. To punish me for leaving him, to make sure that I would blame myself for the rest of my life. After all, his reasoning would be that if I’d stayed with him, he’d have had no reason to kill my daughter.”
    Opal was silent. “That is fucking sick.”
    “I know, Opal. And that’s why I ran. I’m not saying that what I did was right, and it sure as hell wasn’t legal. But it was what had to be done.” She shook her head. “I hope that Carl will give up looking for us, after a while. I just need to lay low and keep Sonia safe until then.”
    Both women were quiet for a minute, thinking about Vicky’s decision, what she had done to get away from the one man who should have protected her and Sonia from harm and hurt. The one man who should have kept them both safe.
    “Opal? Can I ask you something?”
    “Sure.”
    “Do you remember that day when you offered me the cleaning job?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “Well, you said something that I’ve wanted to ask you about for a while.”
    Opal leaned back. Yeah, I knew it was just a matter of time before she brought this up. The girl is hurting but she ain’t dumb.
    “OK, shoot.”
    “OK.” Vicky hesitated. “Ummm. You said that you knew an abused woman when you saw one. And, something about the way you said it… I don’t know. It just felt like – you knew about it up-close. Personally.”
    “You are asking if I was ever abused myself. Right?”
    Vicky’s face flamed. “I’m sorry, Opal. It’s none of my business and I –”
    “I was.”
    “You – you were?”
    “Yeah. My first husband.” She sighed deeply. “I was so young when we got married, you know. Barely seventeen. But I was pregnant and so that was that. He beat the crap out of me at least twice a week for almost eight years.”
    “How did you get away?”
    “I didn’t. He ran out on me. Left me with three mouths to feed when he did, but we were all grateful.”
    Vicky nodded.
    “My second husband hit me once – once only. He came home drunk and hauled back and backhanded me and I thought, Oh, no. No way is this all starting again. So I waited until he was sitting down watching TV and I hit him over the head with a frying pan.”
    Vicky choked on her wine. “You what ? Really?”
    “Damn right. Anyway, I gathered up the boys – I had four of ‘em by then – and we marched on out of there. The bastard begged and pleaded but I said no. I’d seen where that all goes, see, where it all ends up. I wasn’t staying and hanging around, waiting to end up flat on my back dead on the living room floor.”
    “And then?”
    “Then I raised my boys as a single mother, and got them through mostly intact. Twenty-five years ago, I married number three and we started this place. He never laid a finger on me, but he was a womanizing hound, and couldn’t keep it in his pants. I got tired of the promises and I was fixing to leave him when he dropped dead of a heart attack. Of course, he was screwing a hotel guest at the time, so I didn’t shed too many tears.”
    “My God, Opal.” Vicky know whether to laugh or cry.
    “So, here’s my advice for you, girl. If a man ever lays a hand on you again? Wait ‘til his back is turned and hit him with a frying pan and walk out.”
    Vicky laughed.
    “You promise me?”
    “I promise. But I hope that I never get hit, ever again. It’s – it’s totally dehumanizing. It just steals something, you know. Something deep inside.”
    Opal saw the haunted look in her eyes and took her hand. Vicky looked up and smiled.
    “OK, enough about all of that ,” Opal said. “This is Thanksgiving , girl, and you have got plenty to give thanks for this year.” She gestured at the food on their plates. “Food, freedom – and quite possibly Phil.”
    “Oh, Lord, here

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