Behind The Mask. Metsy Hingle

the events of that terrible night six months ago…

      Elisabeth sat up in bed, unsure what had awakened her. Then she heard it—the sound of rain slapping against the windowpanes. Must have been the rain, she decided as she pushed the hair out of her eyes and switched on the lamp. Glancing around the elegantly appointed bedroom, it took her a moment to orient herself.

      And then she remembered. She’d had a monster headache all day, and after she’d put Timmy down for the night and complained of not feeling well, Adam had given her something to take for her head. To her surprise, he’d suggested she go to bed without him and told her not to wait up because he had a business meeting that would run late.

      Relieved not to have him make love to her that night, she’d taken the pill he’d given her and gone to bed alone. A check of the silver-framed clock with diamond and onyx numerals revealed it was after three o’clock in the morning. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone to bed without her husband and been able to sleep for a six-hour stretch without Adam waking her to make love. Even when she’d been in the final stages of her pregnancy, with her belly swollen and her back aching, Adam’s desire for her had never lagged. He had refused to be denied access to her body, reminding her of the many women who would gladly service his needs, but how it was only her that he wanted.

      She should be grateful, Elisabeth told herself. After all, how many women had a husband like Adam who remained passionate about his wife even after seven years of marriage and a child. But she didn’t feel grateful, Elisabeth admitted. She felt trapped.

      Irritated with herself, she reached for the flimsy robe of the expensive black peignoir—one of dozens that Adam had bought her and insisted she wear for him. And as she slid her arms into the whisper-sheer fabric, she wondered why she’d even bothered to put it on since it provided little in the way of covering or warmth. After she slipped on the matching high-heel slippers, she walked over to the huge windows that looked out over the gardens.

      Wrapping her arms around herself, Elisabeth stared out at the rain. A movement in the tree caught her eye, and she looked closer, smiled as she saw the little wren flap its wings and bravely fly through the raindrops to the neighboring tree. Pressing her fingers against the cool panes of glass, she wished she were that wren. Wished she had the courage to break free of this beautiful cage where Adam kept her—wished she could escape with Timmy.

      Immediately ashamed of her thoughts, Elisabeth silently chastised herself. She had no reason to be so unhappy. Adam was a good husband. He adored her, lavished her with jewels and expensive clothes. He provided her with everything a woman could possibly want.

      And, because of Adam, she had a beautiful little boy, she reminded herself. Her eyes misted as she thought of her son, still unable to believe that something as perfect and wonderful as Timmy had actually come from her. From her and Adam, she amended, realizing she had to stop thinking of Timmy as only being her son. He was Adam’s child, too. While Adam may have been unhappy about her pregnancy and had been angry with her for hiding it from him until she was well into her second trimester, he was becoming more accustomed to them being a family now, she assured herself. He just hadn’t been prepared to become a father. But now that Timmy had turned two and was becoming more of a person, Adam would begin to enjoy his son more. Surely he would learn to love Timmy as she did.

      A father shouldn’t have to learn to love his child.

      Elisabeth tried to shut off the nagging voice in her head, told herself that Adam hadn’t planned on them having a family. Learning to share her had been a big adjustment for him. But he would come around.

      And what about those accidents Timmy keeps having? What would have happened last month if you hadn’t come out to the pool when you did and saw Timmy floating facedown in the water?

      Elisabeth shivered at the memory of coming out to the pool to surprise her two fellows with a pitcher of lemonade only to discover Adam on his cell phone and Timmy’s unmoving body floating in the pool. Clutching her throat, she could feel the terror clawing inside her as she recalled dropping the tray and diving into the water—even though she couldn’t swim.

      Would Adam have saved Timmy if you hadn’t been in danger of drowning, too?

      Elisabeth put her hands over her ears, tried to block out the questions that had been plaguing her for weeks now. She had to stop doing this to herself. She had to stop suspecting her husband of such horrible things. Even more restless now than she’d been before, she knew there was little chance of her going back to sleep and decided to go check on Timmy.

      As she made her way down the massive staircase, Elisabeth tried to make as little noise as possible. Adam hated that she was so protective of Timmy, she reminded herself. It was one of the reasons he had insisted Timmy’s room be downstairs and away from their suite. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she listened carefully, trying to determine whether Adam was still at work in his study or if perhaps he’d gone out. She’d learned early in their marriage not to question him about his late-night trips to the office or to the clubs he owned.

      As she passed his study, she noted the light from under the door and hurried in the opposite direction toward Timmy’s room. When Elisabeth reached the door to Timmy’s room, a smile was already forming on her lips. She eased it open and saw Adam standing over Timmy’s crib with a pillow poised over the little boy’s face.

      “What are you doing?” she screamed.

      He swung around. “Elisabeth!”

      She lunged at him. “Get away from my baby!”

      “What in the hell’s the matter with you?” he demanded, gripping her wrists so tightly she thought the bones would snap.

      “My baby! You were going to smother my baby!”

      “Don’t be ridiculous. I was just picking up his pillow.”

      “You’re lying,” she accused him as she fought to free herself from his ironlike grip. Adam was lying and she knew it. Just as she’d known he’d lied to her when he’d told her Timmy must have fallen into the pool when he’d gone to answer his phone. Just as she’d known deep in her heart that all those little accidents Timmy had had since he was an infant hadn’t been accidents at all. She just hadn’t wanted to believe Adam was capable of trying to kill his own son.

      “You’re hysterical,” Adam told her.

      “No, I’m not. I’m not,” she fired back and continued to struggle.

      “Mommy! Mommy,” Timmy cried, awakened by their shouting. He stood up in his crib, held his arms out to her.

      “Adam, please let me go. He needs me,” she pleaded.

      “Shut up,” he yelled at Timmy who huddled down into the corner of his crib against the bed railings, his brown eyes wide and terrified as deep hiccuping sobs escaped his lips.

      “You’re scaring him. Let me go!” She fought wildly to break free and get to her son, but her efforts proved useless. “Please, Adam, he’s crying.”

      “Let him cry. You’re making a ninny out of that kid fussing over him the way you do,” he said, and began dragging her from the room. “I’ve been patient long enough, Elisabeth. Your days of coddling that kid are over. Tomorrow I’m hiring a nanny to take care of him, and you’re going to be a real wife to me again. Beginning now,” he told her.

      As Adam pulled the door closed on Timmy’s heart-wrenching sobs, and forced her up the stairs to the bedroom, something broke inside her. She knew then that she had to escape.

      So when he kicked the door shut behind them and she recognized the lustful glint in his eyes, she shut off her mind and her heart, telling herself she would get through this. She would bide her time and she and Timmy would escape.

      “Take it off,” Adam told her.

      Not wanting to enrage him any further and risk hurting Timmy, she began to unbutton the peignoir. By the time she’d removed the robe and started on the buttons of the low-cut nightgown, Adam had already shed