The Widows of Braxton County by Jess Mcconkey Page B

problems?”
    “Occasionally,” she replied in a low voice.
    “I’m sorry, Mrs. Krause. I didn’t hear you.”
    Hannah lifted her chin. “Yes.”
    “Did he ever strike you?”
    “Yes.”
    “Willie? Did he ever strike Willie?”
    “No.”
    “So you were the one who bore the brunt of your husband’s temper . . .” He paused. “Did you ever fear for your life?”
    She stared at the attorney defiantly. “No, Jacob knew he’d be punished if he killed me.”
    “But he wouldn’t be punished for striking you?”
    “Not unless I made a fuss.” Her attention traveled to Reverend Green. “And I was encouraged not to do that.”
    He scratched his head. “Let me understand your situation, Mrs. Krause. You willingly accepted your husband’s treatment?”
    “I didn’t have much choice in the matter,” she replied quietly.
    At her words, the attorney’s attention stole to the knife lying on the table in front of Walter. His thoughts were as clear as if he’d spoken them aloud.
    “I—I—” Hannah gasped.
    “Did you know of his plan to divorce you?”
    Joseph had told them about his father’s intent. Hannah fought to regain her composure. She turned to Dr. Morgan. “May I please have a glass of water?”
    Reverend Green hurried from the room and returned a moment later. He handed her the glass, and she took it without meeting his eyes. She took several sips, then placed the glass on a small table next to her chair before returning her attention to the county attorney.
    “I never discussed divorce with my husband.” She met his stare head-on. “The first I heard of it was today, and I only have my stepson’s word that it was something my husband was considering.” She looked pointedly at the knife. “I’ve never seen that knife before and I did not kill my husband,” she declared firmly.
    “You want us to assume that your stepson might be mistaken concerning your husband’s plans?” Charles Walker lifted an eyebrow. “Might we, also, assume that he was mistaken,” he said and glanced down at the paper, “when you made the statement—I quote—‘then I’m glad he’s dead’? ”

 
    Chapter 14

    Early fall 2012, the Krause family farm
    T rudy turned as Kate flew into the house. “What’s wrong?” she asked, startled by Kate’s haste.
    “Leave me alone,” Kate cried as she hurried past her. Not stopping until she reached the second floor, she started toward her bedroom but then changed her mind. Hurrying down the hallway, she headed for the back bedroom.
    Boxes of Christmas decorations, old books, and family photographs sat stacked along the wall. The bed, covered with an old chenille bedspread, had stacks of clothes wrapped tightly in clear plastic. After shoving the clothes aside, Kate sank down on the old mattress, making the bedsprings creak loudly.
    Trembling, she laid a palm on her injured cheek. He’d struck her . . . Hot tears began a path down her face. Her knight in shining armor had bullied her. She pulled a shaking hand through her hair while she sobbed, her shoulders shook. Did he leave a mark? A cold cloth would feel good on her still-stinging cheek, but that would mean facing Trudy again. Better to stay here.
    Kate tilted sideways onto the bed and drew her legs into a fetal position. She should pack her clothes and get out. But where would she go? She’d given up her apartment when she’d married Joe. That left her grandmother’s, and hell would freeze over before she gave that woman the satisfaction of saying “I told you so.” She didn’t even have a girlfriend to call. She’d been so involved with Joe and their courtship that she’d let all her friendships slide. Lindsay’s friendship had been the only one she’d maintained; but since Trudy’s lecture about letting go of her old life, she hadn’t talked to Lindsay all summer. Now it was too late. She was too embarrassed to suddenly call her now for emotional support.
    Bitter tears ran down her face while