“Would you like to join us for dinner?” Marie asked Abigail, who had been too stunned to speak. She had always thought that Charles despised her, but in fact, he had been saving her. She would have been to jail for killing her husband, but now that her secret was out, she was not comfortable anymore; she felt like the entire family could turn on her in a moment, and it made her want to confess her sins immediately.
“You should join us for dinner,” Valerie asked. Both women had been with Charles in the room, and Abigail had not even noticed. She had been so furious when she got into the room that she did not think to take note of her surroundings.
“I should join you for dinner,” Abigail asked, looking around. She had been mean to each of them in the room in every way possible, and they still thought that they could sit at the same table with her. It also did not make sense since the reason they were having this celebration dinner was to celebrate beating her today. “I am not sure if that is appropriate in any way,” she muttered.
“Oh, come, it is just a meal, and I am sure you are yet to have something to eat,” Marie said as if it were not a big deal.
“Are you saying you’ve forgiven me?” She asked, her steps faltering as she felt her legs give way underneath her.
“Forgiving is overstretching it,” Marie said, standing up and coming to stand in front of her. “I would say that we understand; we are all moms, and we might not have been the best moms, but we tried our best to love our children in the way we could. The circumstances around us did not let us do what we wanted, but we made do and tried our best,” she added.
Abigail did not know why, but hearing her say that was the most comforting thing she had heard in years. She felt something warm trickle down her cheek, and her hand slowly went up to touch it, and surely enough it was wet. “I was doing all of this for my boy. I mean, it was pretty annoying that my husband cheated on me with other women, but it became worse for me when I knew that he had children. I was the one who stayed with him, so why should the child of someone else come and reap all I had sown? That was my thought. “Abigail could not believe she was baring her heart in front of these people, but she did not know anything else to do than to do this.
“You really do not have to explain this to me,” Marie said.
“And I am sorry,” Valerie said, standing as well. She had her hands in front of her as she was about to get scolded by someone. “I guess I wanted to climb up faster, and since he kept going after me, it made me feel special, and then I got to know that was how he chased everything that had boobs,” Valerie continued.
Abigail scoffed as the image of her husband flashed through her mind. She remembered having to deal with his drunkenness and the perfume of women that lingered on him even after a long day. She remembered seeing makeup-stained shirts and hickey marks on his neck. There were even women who were bold enough to slip their underwear into the pocket of his suit. She had seen it all, and she saw that as her way out.
“I am not defending what I did; everything I did was wrong. I should have known that he was a married man and stayed away from him instead of clinging to him as if I owned him. I got what I deserved in the end,” Valerie said.
“I am not even angry at you. You were young and…” Abigail trails off. She wondered what had come over her. If anyone told her that she would confess her sin to Charles and these women, she would never agree to it. “I would join you for dinner,” she said and then turned to leave the room.
She got back to her room and sat on the bed, her hand running over the fluffy bed cover. “I have had the luxury in life and I missed it; maybe it is time for me to pay for my crimes,” she murmured to herself as she thought of what she had to do.
She would sit at the table with them tonight and offer an apology to Cade and Ophelia; she would write her son a letter and then leave first thing in the morning to go and turn herself in. No matter the reason and no matter how those women were trying to make it seem okay, she was wrong for having killed her husband.
THE NEXT MORNING
As Abigail walked from the house, she was ready to say goodbye to everything as she knew it. Her son was now big enough to stand on his own, and as much as she was attached to this life of luxury, she could not imagine a life where her son would be victimized because of her; she had to do the right thing.
“How can we help you, ma’am?” a police officer asked, looking her way. He knew that she looked familiar, but he could not place a name on her face as he helped her to a seat.
“I am here to report a crime,” she said, lifting her head at him and sitting up straight.
“Okay, ma’am, I will be with you in a minute,” he replied, going into the back room and then coming to sit across from her. She put her hand on the table, and the other one curled up in her lap. She could not believe it, but she was here already; there was no turning back. “You can go on,” the officer said, encouraging her to speak.
“I am here to turn myself in.”
“Turn yourself in?” the officer asked, caught by surprise.
“I killed my husband fifteen years ago.”