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It was a funny coincidence that the divorce lawyer Brittany contacted early that November was none other than Mary, the woman she’d run off to Boston with over twenty years before. Immediately after their stint in Boston, Mary had struck out for law school, where she’d met her husband, Josh, and had two babies, even in the midst of all-night study sessions and semester finals. Mary and Josh had returned to Bar Harbor only five years before. Despite that, their friendship had stalled. Brittany had felt trapped in her marriage to Conner and unwilling to show the truth of her sorrows, especially not to Mary, who’d been around since the very beginning.
When Brittany entered Mary’s law office, her chin lifted and her mind made-up, Mary opened her arms to her once-dearest friend and said, “Whatever it is, we’ll fix it. But you have to tell me the truth for once.”
Mary listened intently as Brittany outlined the entire story, beginning from the autumn when Conner had arrived in Bar Harbor to their very short engagement, the first house they purchased, the birth of their babies, and the mental and emotional abuse that had only escalated over the years.
“It got so bad that I sometimes felt I couldn’t get up in the morning,” Brittany told Mary sheepishly. “And you know me. That’s the furthest thing from my personality.”
“You were always one of the biggest go-getters I knew,” Mary affirmed, removing her glasses from the bridge of her nose and twirling them. “Let me ask you this, Brittany... Do you trust him not to fly off the handle when you tell him you want a divorce?”
Brittany shook her head slowly. “I have no idea what he will do.”
Mary scribed something to herself on a notepad then clicked through several pages on her computer. “I would recommend having a potential restraining order in place,” Mary began. “You can tell him about it coolly and say that you’d prefer not to use it, but it’s an option for you.”
Brittany stuttered with disbelief. “I don’t know if that’s necessary...”
Mary flashed Brittany a dark look. “Based on everything you’ve just told me, Conner doesn’t care about your mental or emotional health. You also said that he’s frightened you physically a number of times. This is not a man that you want anywhere near you. After you tell him to leave your home, I suggest that you speak only through me, your lawyer, and never directly to him. These narcissists can be incredibly manipulative. If you give them an inch, they take the whole yard.”
Brittany knew Mary was right. She let her shoulders fall forward as she sat, genuinely shocked that she’d finally taken this step forward. Valerie would be so proud of her.
But mostly, dammit, Brittany was proud of herself.
“How do you plan to tell him?” Mary asked pointedly.
“I...”
“Because I would suggest having someone there with you,” Mary continued. “Someone who has your back. Probably someone male.”
Brittany arranged for Luke, the sous chef from the Keating Inn and Acadia Eatery, to arrive at her home the following afternoon, a little bit before Conner was slated to return from his workday. She hadn’t told him specifically what she was up to— only that she needed his help for something her father had wanted her to do long ago. Luke wasn’t the sort to poke and prod at something he sensed you didn’t want to talk about. That was the beauty of Luke.
At three-fifteen, Valerie arrived home from school. There was the sound of the screeching door, and then a backpack plopped on the couch. Valerie then made her way into the kitchen to grab a snack, where she found Brittany with her hands stretched out wide across the counter, her legs quivering beneath her.
“Mom!”
Brittany snapped her head upright to meet Valerie’s eyes. “Hi, honey.” Her voice seemed several miles away.
“You good?” Valerie hustled to pour her mother a glass of water, which she pressed into her hand. “What’s up? I’m surprised you’re not at the store.”
Brittany closed her eyes as she sucked down one-half of the glass of water. When she returned the glass to the counter, she breathed, “I’m going to tell your father that I want a divorce today.”
Valerie stiffened and then took a step back. Her face played out the her wild emotions— regret, fear, sorrow, and a slight hint of gratefulness.
“Okay,” Valerie breathed, giving Brittany a subtle nod. “Okay.”
“Luke’s supposed to come to be a backup,” Brittany explained. “He should get here in a few minutes, before your father...”
But just then, the front door slammed open and two male voices beamed out, speaking confidently, brightly about a recent football game. Brittany knew these voices like the back of her hand. It was Thomas and his father, Conner. Perhaps they’d decided to leave work early. Thomas, who hadn’t stopped in to say hello to his mother in over a week, had decided today was the day.
Great.
But there was no going back now. Brittany had come this far. She’d slated this day as the first of the rest of her life.
Valerie gave her a bug-eyed look. Brittany lifted her chin, resolute, and called out, “Hello? Do I hear Thomas?”
Her handsome son stepped through the kitchen doorway with his muscular arms outstretched. He’d recently showered after his stint on the lobster boat. His hair was slightly damp and his skin hinted the slightest bit of salt. Brittany hugged him a little too hard, as this was the last hug she would share with her son when the Radley Family was still the Radley Family.
They could never go back.
“Hi, honey.” Conner stepped in after Thomas, then grabbed a beer from the fridge and cracked it open, wearing a crooked smile. “Thomas and I met with some new clients today. The boy has real sales talent, and I told him he gets it from his mama.” Conner winked at her, that delirious wink that used to make her weak in the knees, but now made her skin crawl.
This was the thing about narcissists, Mary had told her. ‘You give them an inch, they take a yard.’
“What’s up with you?” Conner finally asked. “You’re awful quiet.”
Thomas grabbed a beer from the fridge, following after his father, then smacked Valerie playfully on the shoulder. Brittany adored the friendship her children had with one another. Would the divorce destroy that?
“Brittany. I asked you a question,” Conner told her firmly.
“Do you mind if we talk?” Brittany asked, her voice catching. “Just for a minute.”
“We’re all here,” Conner replied. “There’s nothing you can say to me that you can’t say to the kids.”
Brittany wanted to point out how ridiculous that was— that their children were seventeen and nineteen and not totally privy to the privacy of their lives. That said, maybe it was better if she did this in front of them. Maybe he wouldn’t fly off the handle so quickly... Just maybe.
“Okay.” Brittany crossed and took a step back. “Okay then. I’d like to tell you that I met with a divorce lawyer yesterday. And I’d like to begin the separation proceedings and, ultimately, a divorce.”
In all her years of knowing the manipulative and cruel Conner Radley, Brittany Keating had never seen him quite like this.
All the color in his face immediately drained, leaving it stark white. His hands clenched tightly over his beer, making the can crackle. There was a wicked flash in the back of his eyes, proof that something had broken within him— something that couldn’t be repaired.
Almost immediately, a voice in the back of Brittany’s head demanded of her: What have you done?
“Is this how you’re going to do this, huh?” Conner began, his nostrils flared. “You’re going to destroy our family? Everything we’ve built? The minute you have more success with your business, you’re going to say you’ve had just about enough of me? You’re ready to get rid of this?”
Suddenly, Conner flailed his free hand skyward and smashed it on the counter. Valerie nearly leaped out of her skin. Brittany, accustomed to Conner’s flair-ups, hardly flinched.
“Dad...” Thomas began, trying to reason with him. Thomas adored his father, at least when they were getting along, but Brittany had seen their relationship go south more than once.
“I’ve already begun the process of getting a restraining order,” Brittany added coolly. “It’s been suggested to me that we communicate only through our lawyers from now on.”
“A restraining order? Jesus Christ, Brittany.” A number of other expletives flew from his mouth as he reached for the toaster, yanked it from the wall, and flung it across the room with a tremendous crash.
The toaster had narrowly missed hitting Thomas in the side of the head.
“What the hell!” Thomas cried. He reached out to grab Valerie, drawing her into the room directly beside the kitchen.
“Where the hell am I supposed to go, Brittany?” Conner howled. “This is my home! We bought it together!”
“We can work out the details of that with the lawyer,” Brittany countered simply. She felt like she was outside of her body, as though she was a puppet and someone far away played with the strings. “I imagine it won’t be difficult to work out some sort of arrangement. People get divorced all the time.”
“People get divorced all the time.” Conner mimicked her angrily, then grabbed the coffee pot and flailed it across the kitchen. The glass shattered and flung across the ground.
In the next room, Valerie screamed. Brittany hustled for her, suddenly frightened. She wasn't entirely sure what to do with a toddler-like husband in the next room, eager to hurl whatever he found at them. He could destroy everything in the kitchen— and then what? Move on to the dining room? The living room? Remove the television from the wall and smash it against the ground?
But unbeknownst to Brittany, Thomas had been in the hallway, already on the phone with the police for the previous thirty seconds. He indicated this with a pointed finger toward his cell. Over the next two minutes of Conner Radley’s breakdown, Brittany waited with bated breath, listening for the sound of the sirens. When they came, Thomas rushed for the door and opened it, gesturing for them to enter as quickly as possible.
The cops who’d arrived were friendly already with Conner Radley. They’d drank with him at the local bar, nodded to him at the community fairs, caught up with him at soccer games back in the day, and generally thought of him as just another “family man” in Bar Harbor. Brittany would learn later that most people just assumed what they wanted to assume. Conner was handsome, loyal, friendly, and strong. Not the portrait of an abuser.
“Conner! We need you to calm down,” one of the cops said as he entered the kitchen, his swagger powerful and demanding attention.
“Who said you could enter my house?” Conner demanded. “Who let you in?”
“We were notified of a domestic dispute,” the cop told him.
Brittany turned to face Valerie and drew her arms around her daughter, who quivered against her. It had all gone so terribly wrong. But at least, now, it was over. At least now, they could move forward.
Just then, another figure entered the Radley House. Luke hustled toward the dining room, his eyes wide. “What happened?” he demanded. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know I was late.”
“He got home early,” Brittany replied simply, as Conner’s rage escalated in the next room. “It couldn’t be helped.”
Together, Brittany, Thomas, Luke, and Valerie watched as the cops escorted Conner out of the house. The first cop who’d arrived sat down with them to get their statements. When he learned that Brittany was already in the process of getting a restraining order, he breathed a sigh of relief.
“I have a hunch that Conner Radley won’t be welcomed in Bar Harbor after today,” he said simply. “We don’t want those kinds of folks around here.”
After the cop car sped back toward the station with Conner Radley in back, the remaining family members swept up the debris from Conner’s breakdown, ordered a pizza, and slowly found a way to speak through the horrific pain of that fateful afternoon. Brittany knew it would take time to wade through this and come out the other side. But she felt sure of herself, of her children, and of their combined strength. They had to make it work, and they would. That was that.