She shook her head and thanked Kitty for the tea. Then, after just a couple of gentle, prodding questions from Clancy, she spilled everything. She had been a pretty decent girl growing up. She was no angel, but neither was she a wild child. Yet just a few days before prom (the cursed day for so many poor girls), she became pregnant with her high school sweetheart who had been stringing her along and tormenting her for months. Terrified she was going to loose him, she gave him what he asked despite her reservations. Thus came Norville. Her father found out, and they had, more or less, a shotgun wedding.
As it turned out, that was the biggest mistake her father had ever made.
Her "sweetheart" turned out to be an abusive cheater. Still, she stuck with him and tried to make it work because he'd never actually hit any of the children, and only thrice raised his hand to her. Then when the twins were little, she discovered she'd been wrong. Almost dead wrong. She walked in on him hurting EJ while Norville was locked in a closet, and that was that. The next time he went out to "work late," she took the children, divorced him, and ran. He'd done his work well to cut them off from all other support systems and create total dependance on him, but she was a feisty woman with Irish blood, and she wasn't going down that easy when she had children to protect. He found them twice, but she was able to call the police in time. She hadn't seen him in five years now, but still she lived her life looking over her shoulder.
Then along came people like Mrs. Pugglesworth who scoffed and said her claims of abuse were made up or she was far too delicate a soul. It hurt her deep.
Clancy calmly listened, nodding along, letting her talk, and eventually cry. She ended up in his arms, weeping on his shoulder... and that was exactly where he wanted her.