Lacy's End by Victoria Schwimley Page A

there, she didn’t know. She just lay there with her eyes closed until the pain subsided, waiting for the familiar sounds from her parents’ bedroom. She listened as the slaps came, heard her mother whimper, then the sounds of the headboard, and her mother’s cries of pain.
    Lacy finally stood, cleared the table and washed the dishes. There was no dishwasher in this house. They costs too much money.
    She was drying the last pot when she heard the bedroom door creak open. Lacy turned to find her mother standing in the doorway, her robe pulled tightly against her, her hair a wild mess of curls from her father pulling on it. Her eyes already showed signs of bruising. Lacy crossed to the freezer, took out an ice pack and handed it to her mother.
    “Why did you goad him?”
    Brenda sat in a dining room chair and stared at Lacy. The first emboldened look Lacy had ever seen on her mother’s face. “I’m tired of it.”
    “Then let’s leave,” Lacy said. She dropped into the chair next to her mother. “Please, Mom. I’m tired of it, too. Let’s call that social worker lady and get some help.”
    “What social worker?”
    “The one from the hospital.” Lacy reached into her back pocket and pulled out a business card that was worn around the edges from being transferred from one pair of jeans to another. The social worker had given it to her at the hospital. She had even written her home phone on it, even though it was against the rules. “She said I could call her anytime I wanted.”
    Brenda took the card from Lacy, stared at it for what seemed like ages. It was worn from Lacy toting it around in her back pocket, but all the numbers were still visible. “If only it were that simple, Lacy.”
    “It is that simple. I’ve been looking into this. There’s a shelter we can go to. There are lots of women like us there. They’ll help us out. Please, Mom. Let’s do it.”
    Brenda saw the excitement in her daughter’s beautiful face but knew she couldn’t go through with it. Peter was the sheriff, drinking buddies with most of his officers, golfing buddies with nearly every judge. She shook her head. “I can’t, Lacy. I want to, but I can’t. He’ll just drag us back, and believe me, it will be a whole lot worse.”
    “Then let’s go away somewhere. I have some money saved.”
    Brenda’s gazed hardened. “No! That’s for your college. You’ve worked hard for that money, and I’ll not let you spend it on anything but college.”
    Lacy sat back defiantly and said, “I can’t go to college if I’m dead.”
    Brenda gasped. “Don’t talk like that, Lacy. I forbid it.”
    Lacy stood. “As if you have any right to pull the mother card on me now,” she said and ran out the front door.
    Brenda winced when the door slammed. Lacy had never spoken to her like that before. She looked down at the card. She had no memory of meeting the woman. But then again, she had been nearly unconscious that night. I wonder , she thought but broke off when she heard the bedroom door open. Knowing it would be Peter, she stuffed the card into the pocket of her robe.
    “About that volunteer work,” she said when Peter came to stand before her. She knew he wouldn’t react now. There would be the whole remorse thing he would have to work through. He was most approachable after the beating.
    “Why would you want to spend your days tending to sick people? You have this whole house to take care of, and Lacy, too.”
    “Lacy takes care of herself,” she said. “Please, Peter. I need something else in my life. I’m tired of staring at these walls all day.” An idea struck her. “Peter, it’s an election year, right?”
    “What’s your point?”
    “Think how good it would look if your wife were out doing community service.”
    He looked thoughtful. Brenda took the time to assess him. He had once been a very handsome man, but alcohol and anger had ruined that for him. He wore his brown hair long, just past his shoulders. He