The Spirit Woman Read Online Free PDF

who can help you. John O’Malley, the pastor at St. Francis Mission.”
    â€œA priest?”
    â€œAnd an historian, Laura. You’ll speak the same language. All the elders trust him. I was planning to stop by the mission this afternoon to talk to him about something else. Why don’t you come along? I’ll introduce you.”
    Laura’s shoulders relaxed. “I feel a lot better,” she said.
    â€œDo you?” Vicky held the other woman’s gaze. “Why didn’t you come here in the summer? What’s going on?”
    â€œYou know, lectures, meetings, the usual . . .” Laura shrugged.
    â€œIs this usual?” Vicky gestured toward the other woman’s cheekbone.
    A thin hand flew to the bruise and covered it. “I walked into a door some time ago.”
    â€œI’m on the board of the Eagle Shelter for victims of domestic abuse,” Vicky said. “We see a lot of women who walk into doors.”
    â€œI wouldn’t expect you to understand.” Laura gathered her coat, plunging both arms into the sleeves. A cuff brushed against her mug, sending it wobbling across the table. “Let’s go see that mission priest.”
    â€œI used to walk into doors myself.” Vicky reached out to steady the mug.
    Laura froze, coat bunched around her shoulders, collar tucked inside. “You never told me that’s the reason you left your husband.”
    Vicky stopped herself from saying that she and Ben were trying to work things out again. She turned toward the window and stared at the passing traffic a moment, the two businessmen with down jackets pulled over their suits moving along the sidewalk, heads thrust into the wind. The loud clack of dishes, a laugh somewhere, filled the quiet.
    â€œI haven’t told anyone either,” Laura said finally. “I’m a professor, for Godsakes, and Toby’s on the English faculty. You’ve probably heard of him. Toby Becker? He wrote Time Gifts .”
    Vicky shook her head.
    â€œHe’s a great writer, I give him that. At least his male characters are sensitive and rational and . . .” She hesitated. “Not brutal.”
    â€œHow long did the beatings last?”
    Laura’s jaw was working silently. “I was in love with him,” she said finally, as if that fact answered the question. “He was the most brilliant, handsome, and charming man I’ve ever been involved with. Tall and muscular, with thick, curly brown hair and eyes as blue as the sky. He’s almost perfect.” She swallowed and glanced away. “After the last time—two weeks ago—I moved back into my old apartment. It was hard, Vicky. People can change. I kept hoping Toby would change.”
    Vicky nodded. How often had some woman sat in her office, rubbing a black eye, dabbing at a bruised face, saying, I don’t want a divorce, Vicky. He’s gonna change. Just this morning, Alva Running Bull had told her the same thing. Lester was gonna change. And she, herself, hoping Ben had changed, wondering . . .
    â€œHe doesn’t want to let me go,” Laura said, her voice flat. “He’s been calling ever since I left, sometimes four and five times a night. I think he was following me before I came here.”
    â€œDid you get a restraining order?” Vicky heard the false note of confidence in her own voice, as if a restraining order ever stopped a batterer.
    â€œA restraining order?” Laura said, her tone sharp with incredulity. “I don’t want anyone to know. What would people think? I decided to take off for a couple weeks, come here and finish the biography. One of my colleagues is covering my classes. No one thought anything about my leaving now. They know I’ve been trying to work on the biography. I’ve taken a room at the Mountain House.”
    â€œDid you tell anyone where you’re staying?” Vicky asked, making an effort to conceal the