“I want you to let me in,” she said, sounding stern, and feeling like an intruder, but she had the feeling that something was wrong. And Eileen didn’t sound like she had a cold. There was a long pause where neither of them moved on either side of the door, but Francesca wasn’t leaving. She could hear the bolt turn in the lock, but Eileen still didn’t open the door, and setting the tray down, Francesca gently turned the knob. Eileen was on the other side of the door, crying silently, in her nightgown, with the worst black eye and bruises on her face that Francesca had ever seen. And there were bruises on her body too, her arms and her breasts. Someone had beaten her to a pulp, and Francesca suspected who it was. “Did Brad do that to you?” Eileen didn’t answer, and then she nodded and began to sob.
“Don’t tell anyone … please promise you won’t … he said I humiliated him in front of all of you … and I didn’t stick up for him.”
“I want you to call the police,” Francesca said, shaking as she looked at her. Seeing the condition she was in made her want to cry too. She put her arms around her and held her as Eileen sobbed.
“He said he’d kill me if I call the cops on him, and I think he will. Promise you won’t do anything, Francesca. I won’t see him again. I promise.”
“I don’t want him back in this house.” Francesca didn’t say it, but if Eileen had him there again, she would have to ask her to leave. Brad was clearly dangerous, to all of them, not just to her. He had burned Francesca’s hand intentionally, and God only knew what he would have liked to do to Chris, and would if he got the opportunity. She really wanted to call the police but didn’t want to put Eileen at greater risk. “Do you want me to take you to the ER?”
“No,” she said miserably. “They might report it to the cops. I’m okay, I’ve been through it before. My father used to beat me and my mom up all the time when I was a kid. He’s a drunk. That’s why I left home.”
“I’m so sorry,” Francesca said, wishing they could do something to Brad, like put him in jail where he belonged. “Eileen, you can’t keep meeting guys like this. You don’t know who they are. It may be fun and exciting to meet them online, but some of them are dangerous. And you can’t bring anyone here again.”
“I won’t. I swear,” she sobbed as she clung to Francesca. “Please don’t make me leave. I love it here. It’s the only real home I’ve ever had.” What she said tore at Francesca’s heart.
“Then I want you to be careful from now on.”
“I promise … I will …” And then she looked at Francesca guiltily. “He took my key. I tried to stop him, but he took it and ran after he beat me up. He said he’d come back and do it again if I told anyone.”
“I’ll change the locks,” Francesca said grimly. She kissed her gently on the forehead then, promised to come back after dinner, and ran back downstairs. She had been gone for half an hour.
“What took so long?” Chris asked her when she got back. They were halfway through the main course, but Marya hadn’t wanted it to get cold. “She must be really sick.”
“Sick as a dog,” Francesca confirmed, not wanting to upset either of them, and not sure what to say. She said almost not a word through dinner, and Chris could see she was upset. They had all gotten to know each other well. He spoke to her in an undervoice when Marya was getting a chocolate soufflé out of the oven, and then made crème Chantilly and sauce anglaise to go with it. It was yet another feast.
“What’s wrong?” Chris asked in a whisper. Francesca hesitated for a minute and then decided to tell him. She wanted his advice.
“Brad beat her up. Badly. She’s got bruises all over her face and body and a black eye.”
“Jesus.” Chris looked furious. “Did she call the police?”
Francesca shook her head. “She said he told her he’d kill her if she told anyone. She can’t even go to work. She looks a mess.”
“Do you think she should move out?” he asked practically, as Marya worked on the whipped cream and made so much noise she couldn’t hear what they were saying.
“She begged me not to. I told her she can’t have him here again. He took her key. I’ll get the locks changed tomorrow. We can put the chain on tonight.”
Chris sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I hope she’s not addicted to the guy, or getting beaten up. Physical abuse is a tough addiction to break, one of the worst.” But as far as they knew, it had never happened before. Francesca was encouraged by that.
“I think he’s just a random bad guy she met on the Internet. I wish she’d give that up. She doesn’t mean to, and she’s a sweet kid, but she’s putting all of us at risk along with herself.” Chris nodded, and Marya arrived with the dessert. Francesca picked at it, and Chris ate most of it. It had been a delicious meal. Marya’s recipe was flawless, but what was happening upstairs was upsetting to Francesca and Chris. They didn’t tell Marya, and agreed that she didn’t need to know.
