Book One: "You're Still Mine"

For those of you who are new to this blog, this week I will be reintroducing the three books which comprise my 'Safe In His Arms' series.  Book one, "You're Still Mine," touches upon the delicate subject of spousal abuse.  While writing this fictional story, my goal was to deal with the subject in a realistic yet kind manner.  Remember, if you are being abused, do what you need to do to get yourself out of such a dangerous situation.  Your loved ones need you to be safe and healthy, especially if you have children who are being exposed to such violence.

This is Meg's story... (sample below)

(available as a stand-alone or box-set at Amazon worldwide)

Excerpt of You're Still Mine by Lise Guilbault

PROLOGUE

This couldn't be happening! She'd been assured by the Courts that he would serve a minimum five years, yet here he was walking the streets - or soon would be - following a paltry three and a half years in federal prison!

On the very day he was found guilty by a jury of his peers, Meg had registered with SAVIN, the Statewide Automated Victim Information and Notification program, hence the automated message which had greeted her this morning informing her that her ex-husband, the man who'd nearly taken her life, the man who'd instilled in her a fear of men in general, was to

be released this coming Monday.

In her estimation, she had three days to come up with a solid plan to get herself away from this town, away from him if she had any hope of saving herself. Meg wasn't one prone to exaggeration in general, and definitely not when it came to her fear of Rob. She knew with absolute certainty that immediately upon his release, Rob would be on her like a dog with a bone. Only this time, he'd be sure to finish the job. Unable to come up with a quick solution, Meg needed to think, and think fast! She decided to come at this systematically.

First things first. Money. She had $2,500 in savings and another $1,100 in her chequing account. Of course, if she left town immediately, it would mean skipping this month's mortgage payment, but what did it matter? Rob would likely claim the house as his anyway. Laws and injunctions were of no consequence to an animal like him. He was a law unto himself and defied anyone to say differently.

Meg had married Rob when she was twenty-five. He was a couple years older than her and had impressed Meg with his worldly maturity. He'd often boasted of his travels and street-wise education,

and Meg had taken in every word. What he'd failed to tell her, however, was that none of it was true. In fact, he'd never stepped foot outside the State of New York in his entire life. Unfortunately, unbeknownst to her, his secrets would not come to light for a very long time. If only they had.

They'd honeymooned in Niagara Falls - the Canadian side - as they'd both wanted to see the Horseshoe Falls. It hadn't been a long trip, considering they lived in Rochester, New York, but it was nonetheless exciting for a woman as sheltered as Meg had been.

What a great time they'd had. Rob seemed to be trying to make all her honeymoon dreams come true. He'd wined and dined her, albeit at moderately-priced restaurants, bought her a delicate necklace with a heart-shaped pendant, and even waltzed her down Clifton Hill, attracting stares and smiles from onlookers. They'd had so much fun and had laughed so hard, they'd had to stop to rest in order catch their breath.

But as the saying goes, all good things come to an end. Meg's dream honeymoon had ended with a bang practically the moment they'd stepped foot in their rented one-bedroom apartment upon their return from Niagara Falls.

Rob had appeared to undergo a personality transformation before her very eyes. Within the first week, he'd shed his good-guy persona and had felt the need to outline for Meg certain ground rules she would be required to adhere to. First off - and according to him, most important - was his need to establish that he was the head of the household. His kingdom would not be a democracy and she needed to accept this as fact, without question or debate.

He wasn't a total ogre, however. He informed her that he'd allow Meg to decide on what meals she would serve him, the one caveat being that she must only serve foods his mama had fed him when he was growing up. It was also imperative that dinner be on the table, ready to eat, no later than six o'clock on weekdays and six-thirty on weekends. His breakfast would be scrambled eggs or porridge on cold days, and toast or cereal on warmer days.

Although Meg worked full-time - and made good money - as an administrative assistant for a local insurance company, she was not entitled to a penny of her salary unless it was disbursed by Rob. Her salary was deposited directly into a joint bank account, yet Meg was expressly forbidden from withdrawing a penny of it. Rob reasoned they'd be in a better position to purchase a home sooner if they went without for a few years. What he'd failed to specify was that she would go without, and he would not.

Makeup was not up for discussion. Rob's mama had never worn it and no wife of his would be allowed out in public looking like a

cheap tramp.

Meg was not allowed to grow her hair too long or she would look like a Jezebel. Her clothes had to be modestly styled, selected by him, with only skirts below the knee and blouses with round necklines permissible.

As to Meg's friends, they had eventually become a thing of the past. Oh, Rob had allowed her to go out occasionally at first, but whenever she did go out with friends, he became so obsessed with where she'd gone and who she'd been with, Meg soon decided it wasn't worth the headaches that came with it. Of course, friendship is a two-way street and neglected friends will eventually move on and leave you behind. Sure enough, within a short period of time, Meg found herself very much alone, if not by herself. Her husband had become a stranger practically overnight and her friends had given up on her.

The abuse kind of crept up on her. She'd not seen it coming. It had been so subtle at first, she had at times thought him 'cute' for being so detail-oriented, so concerned for her well being.

But then his behaviour had turned into something much more frightening, his need for total control all-consuming. The house had to be just so, at all times, and if company came over - of course, 'company' being his parents and sister - the menu was pre-approved by him and the food carefully inspected prior to serving. More than once, he'd thrown out a perfectly good pie because the meringue didn't look as 'fluffy' as his mama's.

Her tears were of no consequence. In his opinion, they were a sign of weakness and manipulation on her part. Meg tried never to let him see her tears as, more often than not, it would enrage him and he'd rant at her for hours on end.

The first time he struck her, she was in complete and utter shock. Such a thing was unheard of when she was growing up. Her father had been a gentle man who'd never raised his voice to her mother, let alone his hand. Her father had always said women were put on this earth to be loved and cherished, and

that a good man would never raise his hand in anger to a woman.

Her shock must have been apparent because Rob froze, as though he, himself, were appalled at his own behaviour. He'd come to her then and apologized profusely, claiming he didn't know what had come over him and suggested that perhaps she'd made him angrier than she usually did. He suggested that if she worked harder at not angering him in the future, he promised never to hit her again. That had been Rob's idea of a win-win situation.

Oh, Meg had tried to be good. Meals were always on time and ready to be served the minute he got home, his clothes were washed and pressed twice weekly, and not a speck of dirt could be found anywhere. But of course even angels can mess up once in a while, and Meg was no exception. On two occasions, she'd missed her bus and arrived home a half-hour late. Dinner wasn't ready when he got home, and there had been hell to pay. She was not trying hard enough, he'd said. Or she was intentionally trying to provoke him. No matter how you sliced it, Meg was the one who'd messed up, missed bus, be damned.

The abuse intensified, the slaps were dolled out more frequently, and the pain and humiliation became unbearable. At one point, not knowing where to turn, feeling totally and utterly alone, Meg had called Rob's sister for advice and, if she were lucky, a measure of support. His sister's allegiance to her brother had been to Meg's detriment. She'd promptly informed Rob of his wife's lack of discretion, and Rob had felt it necessary to inform Meg of her lack of good judgement. In the end, when everyone had been duly informed, the only one sporting bruises was Meg. The icing on the cake was the broken arm her husband had thrown in for good measure.

Meg was not one to air her dirty laundry, but there came a time when she'd felt the need to notify police officials of the abuse she was suffering at the hands of her husband. They were sympathetic to her plight and, taking one good look at Meg, had not hesitated to arrest

Rob on domestic abuse charges. A slap on the wrist by a judge, two days to cool his heels in the County Jail, and he was back home. Payback was indeed a bitch, and Meg had felt every single bit of that payback.

The last time Rob beat her had been his downfall. One morning, sick with a nasty flu bug, Meg had mistakenly believed she could remain in bed, convinced Rob could take care of his own needs for one day. Surely he'd understand. After all, he knew she'd thrown up several times during the night, and also had a fever. She'd been gravely mistaken. Rob had been enraged. He'd dragged her out of bed by her hair, forced her to make his breakfast, and when she'd run to the bathroom to be sick, he'd beat her for leaving in the middle of such an important task.

This time, his rage had known no bounds. Open-handed slaps had evolved into closed-fist punches, and wrenching her arms so hard, he had dislocated both her shoulders. To show how magnanimous he was, though, Rob had eventually agreed to allow Meg to call for an

ambulance, instructing her word-for-word on what she was to tell the EMTs when they arrived. Fortunately for Meg, because of Rob's prior history, they'd not come alone, a detail Rob had mistakenly overlooked.

Police had hauled him off to jail and a judge had sentenced him to five years in a state-run prison. He was not to have any contact with his wife - who quickly became his ex-wife.

Today, Meg had received an automated message informing her that her ex-husband would be released in exactly three days. There was so much to do before then, because Meg was determined he would never come near her again. She'd kill him before she allowed that to happen.

CHAPTER ONE

As Meg drove due south, she thought back to all that she had accomplished in the past three days. Her first move had been to empty her bank accounts. Her savings were not significant, but in the three and a half years of Rob's incarceration, she'd managed to amass a nice little nest egg. And it was all hers. She had more than enough money to do what she needed to ensure Rob never found her. There was no doubt in her mind he would try, for he had a score to settle, and he was a determined, extremely angry man who, in his sick, twisted mind, believed he'd been wronged.

Ironically, the fact that Rob had deprived her of her friends had greatly simplified things for her. Other than notifying her employer of her departure, there was no one else to tell of her plan.

Rob's sister had called her two days ago, feigning concern for Meg's well being, but Meg had not been fooled. She was testing the waters and would report back to Rob. Meg had played along, saying she was considering reconciling with Rob but would need time to get things straight in her mind. "Time to think, my ass!" Meg had said to an empty room once she'd hung up. She'd continued to carefully sort through her belongings, deciding which she would take and which she would leave. Anything even remotely related to Rob, she had thrown out.

During her marathon packing session, Meg had given significant thought to where she might like to live. It was an overwhelming feeling, knowing she could live anywhere she chose and do what she wished, when she wished it. Like a kid in a candy store, there were too many choices.

Although Rob had been away for more than three years, having remained in the house she'd shared with Rob had held her back. His ghost permeated every inch of the house, and had caused her to question her every move, every decision. No more! For the first time in seven years, she was truly free of him and his mama!

In the end, Meg had settled on West Virginia as her destination, in close proximity to the Tennessee border. In looking at a map and extensively researching the area online, she'd made her choice. Her new home would be approximately ten miles north-east of the twin cities of Bristol, Virginia and Bristol, Tennessee, in the small town of Elmsmere, Virginia, population just over four thousand. Meg felt like a new woman. They say a change is as good as a rest. In her case, the words meant so much more. A change would save her life, literally, and she was bound and determined to make this new life the best it could be.

Although the drive wasn't terribly long - just under ten hours - Meg decided to indulge in an overnight stay at a Comfort Inn along the way.

For most people, a hotel stay was commonplace, but for her it was a really big deal. At thirty-three, she'd never once paid for a room, or eaten at a restaurant by herself, for that matter. But despite a bad case of nerves, Meg managed to come off as relatively calm while she booked and paid for her room. Room service was not available, but this was of no consequence as she'd prepared a couple of ham and cheese sandwiches to take along on her trip.

Sitting in the motel room, watching TV was practically exhilarating. After munching on a sandwich, she soaked in a hot bubble bath, then had a quick shower and washed her hair. By ten o'clock, Meg was beginning to feel the effects of the day and crawled under the covers, anxiously anticipating tomorrow's drive to her new hometown.

CHAPTER TWO

When Meg opened her eyes the next morning, unable to remember where she was, she experienced a brief moment of disorientation and panic. She sat up in bed, heart pounding and pulse racing. She took a moment to orient herself, and it all came back. Today was the big day. Freedom, with a capital 'F'.

Within half an hour, she'd loaded her small overnight bag into her car and was pulling onto the interstate. Deciding to really let her hair down, Meg blared the radio and sang along to her heart's content.

Two hours later, she pulled into Elmsmere, a wide smile on her face and a song in her heart. It was everything she had hoped it would be!

From what she observed, most of the action seemed to be concentrated on the main street - actually called Main Street - with businesses reminiscent of decades past. There was an old-fashioned movie theater still in operation, and an old general store as well. It was a beautiful day and people were entering and exiting shops, others just milling about, chatting with friends and family. Meg decided then and there she loved this town and all that it stood for.

The first thing she needed to do was find a room where she could stay for a couple of nights until she found herself a house to rent. She had spotted a motel on her way into town which would suit her purpose. Once she'd checked in, she headed to a real estate office located at the opposite end of Main. The receptionist introduced her to a young female agent who enthusiastically offered to show her a couple of available rentals the very next day.

The agent informed her that the three homes they would be visiting were located within town limits, which was perfectly acceptable to Meg, who preferred to not be too isolated from her new community.

The rental she eventually settled on was a two-bedroom, two-level house situated on a cross-street east of Main. The small house stood on a one-acre lot, had a small one-car garage, a beautiful wrap-around, screened-in porch and came fully furnished. The furnishings were nowhere near new, but they were clean and in good condition. Most importantly, it would mean less expense for Meg, at a time when every penny counted. Best of all, the rent was reasonable and well within her self-imposed budget.

Meg signed a one-year lease and the house became hers - all hers - for a period of at least one year. The landlords agreed to allow her to move in on the fifteenth - three days from now - as the house was empty and she had nowhere to stay. She paid for the half month, as well as first and last month and a fifty-dollar deposit for the keys. The landlords were also amenable to her storing, in the garage, any purchases she made between now and moving day.

For the next two days, Meg focused on purchasing items she'd need in her new abode. Certain things she had brought along, such as bedding, towels and personal grooming items. She'd not be needing any clothes or shoes, although a pair of hiking boots could come in handy. From what she'd read on the internet, there were many beautiful places to visit in Virginia, and she planned to see every single one of them.

On the morning of moving day, Meg did some grocery shopping. Her list was extensive but straightforward. Basically, she needed just about everything, from meat to produce to spices, and anything in between. Cooking was something she enjoyed doing, although certain meals she'd not made since Rob's incarceration. Meg's private joke was asking herself if 'mama' would like a particular recipe. If the answer was no, then she'd make it. It was her secret way of sticking it to Rob, she supposed. Her repertoire of recipes had grown considerably in the last year, and Meg often thought how unfortunate it was that she never had anyone save herself to cook for.

From the moment she put the key in the lock and opened the door to her little house, she became a woman on a mission. The slate had been wiped clean and she could begin her life anew. With determination and pride, Meg set out to make her house into a home. First she cleaned everything. She scrubbed the floors, the walls, washed all the curtains and cupboards, inside and out. The last thing she did was scrub the floors until they shone. Exhausted but satisfied with the results of her two-day cleaning spree, Meg stood in the middle of the living room and performed a complete 360-degree inspection. With a big sigh and a nod, she decided that everything was just perfect!

By the end of the week, Meg realized she'd not thought of Rob in three whole days. That in itself was a feat, as he'd done nothing but invade her thoughts for the past eight years. It was a good sign, she told herself; she was moving on, and there would be nothing but good thing in her future.

CHAPTER THREE

Rochester, New York

Rob couldn't believe the bitch had taken off! When he'd discovered that Meg had flown the coop, he'd called his sister, in a rage, but she'd sworn up and down that she'd spoken with Meg shortly before his release, per his instructions, and had been positive everything was fine with her.

So Meg figured since they were divorced, she could up and leave without asking him? Was she really stupid enough to believe a puny piece of paper with some idiot judge's stamp was going to keep him from claiming what was rightfully his?

He'd done three-and-a-half fucking years because the bitch had accused him of battery. The only reason she'd been hurt in the first place that day was because she'd been too damn stupid to know when to keep her mouth shut! And now, she'd gone and done it again! Now, he was up shit creek without a paddle! And without any money!

How the hell was he supposed to pay the bills? He'd earned all of forty dollars while he was in the pen; he could barely afford a case of beer with that.

What Rob couldn't understand was where Meg could have run to. She had no relatives left and as far as he knew, didn't have a friend in the world. He was her whole world. Rob knew for a fact she was too damn chicken to take off on her own without someone to tell her what to do and how to do it, every minute of every day. So where the hell had she gotten up the nerve or found the brains to leave him?

"Well, Bitch, I'm coming for ya!" Rob shouted before he threw his empty beer bottle across the room, watching as it smashed into a million pieces. Damn, he thought, now he'd have to clean that up, too!