Liv Constantine - The Last Mrs. Parrish

He stopped and turned to look at me. “I told her that you had been increasingly depressed about Julie and your dad, and had tried to kill yourself.”

“What?” I shouted.

“She wants you to stay as long as necessary — make sure you get better.”

“You’re hateful. Why are you doing this?”

“Why do you think?”

I started to cry. “I loved you. We were so happy. I don’t understand what happened. Why did you change? How can you expect me to stay with you when you threaten our child and are so horrible to me?”

He started to walk again, maddeningly calm. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t threaten anyone. And I treat you like a queen. You’re the envy of everyone you meet. If I have to keep you in line occasionally, well, that’s part of being married. I’m not whipped like your father was. This is how a strong man handles his wife. Get used to it.”

“Get used to what? Being abused? I’ll never get used to that.” My face was burning.

“Abused? I’ve never laid a hand on you.”

“There are other kinds of abuse,” I said. I searched his face for any sign of the man I had first believed him to be. Deciding to try a different tactic, I softened my voice. “Jackson?”

“Hmm?”

I took a deep breath. “I’m not happy, and I don’t think you are either.”

“Of course I’m not happy. My wife tried to steal my child out from under me with no warning.”

“Why do you want me to come home? You don’t love me.”

He stopped walking and looked at me, his mouth agape. “What? Are you serious? Daphne, I’ve spent the past two years teaching, coaching, grooming you to be a wife I can be proud of. We have a beautiful family. Everyone looks up to us. How can you ask me why I’d fight to keep my family?”

“You’ve mistreated me since Tallulah was born, and it gets worse every day.”

“Accuse me again, and you’ll stay here forever and never see her again.” He started walking again, fast this time.

I struggled to catch up, dropping the conciliatory tone. “You can’t do that!”

“Just watch me. The law’s on my side. And did I mention that I just donated ten million dollars for a new wing at this hospital? I’m sure they’ll be happy to have you stay for as long as I like.”

“You’re insane.”

He swung around, grabbed me, and pulled me close. With his mouth inches from mine, he spoke. “This is the last time we’re having this conversation. You are mine. You’ll always be mine, and you’ll listen to what I say from now on. If you are a good little wife and obey, everything will be fine.” He leaned closer, put his lips on mine, then bit down hard. I yelled and sprang back, but his hand on my head prevented my pulling away. “If you don’t, then trust me: you’ll spend the rest of your life wishing you did, and your child will have a new mother.”

I knew he had me. It didn’t matter that he was the one who was crazy. He had the money and the influence, and he’d played his hand brilliantly.

How had this happened? I struggled to get a deep breath, to come up with something, anything, that would help me to believe there was a way out. Looking at my husband, this stranger who held my future in his hands, I could come up with nothing. Filled with despair, I whispered, “I’ll do whatever you say. Just get me out of here.”

He smiled. “That’s my girl. You’ll have to stay for a month or so. It wouldn’t look right if you came right out. Your therapist and I go back a long way. We’ve been friends since college. He had a little trouble a few years back.” He shrugged. “Anyhow, I helped him out, and he owes me. I’ll tell him to release you in thirty days. He’ll claim it was a hormonal imbalance or something easily fixed.”

Thirty-five days later, I was released. We had to go to family court to prove I was a fit mother. We met with his attorney, and I played along. He made me corroborate his lie that I was hearing voices telling me to hurt my baby. I had to agree to keep seeing Dr. Finn, Jackson’s friend, which was a total joke. He was always solicitous, asking how I was adapting to being home again, but we both knew the sessions were a charade. Now Jackson had something else to hold over my head, to make sure I never left again, and I knew Dr. Finn’s notes would say whatever Jackson wanted them to. When I was finally allowed to go home, the only thing I cared about was being back with Tallulah. I told myself that eventually I’d find a way to escape him. In the meantime, I did what any good mother would do: I sacrificed my happiness to protect my child.

I’d only been at Meadow Lakes for a little over a month, but it felt like years. Jackson came to fetch me himself, and I sat in the passenger seat of his Mercedes roadster, looking out the window, afraid to say the wrong thing. He was in a good mood, humming as if this were any ordinary day and we were simply out for a drive. When he pulled up to the house, I felt strangely outside myself, like I was watching someone else’s life. Someone who lived in a beautiful estate on the water who had lots of money and everything she could want. Suddenly I longed for the haven of my room at the hospital, far from the prying eyes of my husband.

The first thing I did when I got inside was race up the stairs to Tallulah’s nursery. I flung open the door, eager to gather her in my arms. Sitting in the chair rocking Tallulah was a beautiful dark-haired young woman I’d never seen before.

“Who are you?”

“Sabine. Who are you?” She had a thick French accent.

“I’m Mrs. Parrish.” I held out my arms. “Please give my daughter to me.”

She stood, turned her back on me, and moved away. “I’m sorry, madame. I need to hear from Mr. Parrish that it is okay.”

I saw red. “Give her to me,” I screamed.

“What’s going on?” Jackson strode into the room.

“This woman won’t give me my child!”

Jackson sighed and took the baby from Sabine and handed her to me. “Please excuse us, Sabine.”

She threw a look at me and left.

“Where’s Sally? Did you hire that, that… creature? She completely disrespected me.”

“Sally’s gone. Don’t blame Sabine, she didn’t know who you were. She was looking out for Tallulah. Sabine will teach her to speak French. You have to think of our child’s well-being. Things are running smoothly now. Don’t try and come back here and upset the apple cart.”

“‘Upset the apple cart?’ She’s my child.”

He sat down on the bed. “Daphne, I know you grew up poor, but there are certain things that will be expected of our children.”

“What do you mean, I grew up poor? I’m from a middle-class family. We had everything we needed. We weren’t poor.”

He sighed and threw his hands up in the air. “Excuse me. Okay, you weren’t poor. But you certainly weren’t rich.”

I felt my stomach tighten. “Our definitions of rich and poor are vastly different.”

His voice rose. “You know damn well what I’m trying to say. You’re not used to how people with money do things. Doesn’t matter. The point is, leave it to me. Sabine will be a big asset to our family. Now that’s enough. I have a special dinner planned. Don’t spoil it.”

All I wanted was to be with the baby, but I knew better than to complain. I couldn’t risk being sent back to Meadow Lake. Another month there, and I would have truly lost my mind.

All during dinner, he was in an unusually good mood. We shared a bottle of wine, and he’d had Margarita prepare my favorite seafood dish — crab imperial. There was even cherries jubilee for dessert — all very festive, as though my exile hadn’t been by his design and had instead been a relaxing vacation. My mind was racing the entire evening as I tried to keep up with his uncharacteristic nonstop chatter and be engaging. By the time we went upstairs to bed, I was exhausted.