Alison's life is perfect. Married to Eric, a handsome, wealthy man, she teaches 5th grade - just for fun - and is the envy of all her friends. But beneath the surface, Eric is an abusive monster. Able to take no more, Alison flees her "perfect life" with only her clothes, her car and her two cats.
After a mad dash across the country, she lands in Grabill, a backwoods Ohio town with seemingly little to offer. But if anyone knows that appearances are deceiving, Alison does. So, she takes her chances on Grabill and, eventually, on mechanic Tyler Coffey, embarking on a journey of a whole other kind.
Alison's Journey is the touching story of a woman who finds that, rather than having run away, she has come home. Debut author Amey Tippett takes readers on a sweetly emotional journey as Alison rediscovers herself and her ability to trust, finding out what love really is.
Alison's Journey
Chapter One
The gray light of early morning filtered in through the large glass door, bathing the room with an otherworldly quality. Each item in the tidy space was placed exactly. Not a speck of dust could be seen. And that was exactly the way he liked it.
Alison, her short red hair falling in her eyes, absently wiped cat hair from the sofa on which she sat. He’d be furious if he knew that her precious children had been sleeping on his furniture again. He had, after all, gotten mad at her for less. Did it matter anymore?
She pulled her legs up underneath her. Nothing in her life made sense. She had everything she’d thought she’d always wanted, but it didn’t satisfy her. Instead, she felt inferior, as if she was somehow less than she ought to be.
Absolutely everything in Eric’s life was perfect. His house, located in the hills of Los Angeles, was a showcase for his wealth. Everything—his cars, his collectibles, even his dog—proved that he had the perfect life. Why not the perfect wife? Why couldn’t she be perfect too? Wouldn’t that have made everything so much easier? Alison was anything but perfect.
She replayed her mistakes in her head. There were so many of them; each deserving punishment. Inwardly, she knew they weren’t really mistakes, but living with him made her doubt herself so much that she wondered. Could she really be as bad as he said?
Yesterday evening had started innocently enough, with Alison’s late return home from school. It was the last day; she’d had things to pack and people to chat with. It was any normal last day. And yet, it hadn’t been normal at all.
She’d entered the house at half-past six. Eric usually didn’t make it home until seven, so she’d figured that she’d have time to relax and take off her shoes before she dove into the process of making dinner. She’d even mused that Eric might like to celebrate her summer vacation by going out.
She’d been wrong.
All she’d done was walk into the bedroom and take off her shoes. Eric had been there, a panther stalking his prey. His blue eyes shot ice at her as he demanded to know where she’d been.
“But Eric, I’ve been finishing up at school,” she remembered saying petulantly. “You know the last day takes time.” From the way he’d looked at her, she’d known that she was scum on the bottom of his shoe. She’d curled into herself, hoping that he’d believe her. “ Sweetie,” she’d said in a small voice, “I love you. Please don’t do this.”
The rest of the evening had been a blur. He hadn’t believed her. In his mind, she couldn’t have been at work so late. She had been out with some man, making a fool of him. That was always his belief. She remembered some shouting…and the hitting. And then there were the inevitable strains of making up. The dinner—made by her as a plea for forgiveness—and the sex were just tokens in a game she had long ago learned to play.
Leaning back against the couch, Alison called softly to Pigwidgeon and Hedwig. The two small balls of grey fur leapt up beside her, mewing softly. She reached over to pet each one in turn and wondered when her husband had turned into such a monster. He’d been this way so long. Maybe he’d always been horrible and she had just started noticing it.
She sat quietly, wishing…wishing what? That life would be octant suddenly Eric would change into the Prince Charming she’d always dreamed of? Perhaps, she thought to herself, it was time to grow up.
Alison reached up and touched her cheek. Wincing in pain, she realized that although the room might look perfect, her situation certainly wasn’t. And now, before he returned, was the time to do something about it.
Oh God! What was she going to do? Where could she go? Home to her parents? No, it would be better if she just made a fresh start somewhere new. But where? Would Eric come looking for her? He’d always threatened to leave her if she didn’t straighten up and become perfect. There was no chance of that happening.
She shrugged. Maybe he’d act like she’d never existed. That was more like him. Mistakes were something that just didn’t happen in the life of Eric Shaw.
Alison got off the couch and went into the bedroom. She walked over to her vanity and looked in the mirror. There was a bruise forming around her eye. There was also the vague imprint of Eric’s thumb turning a sickly shade of purple on her neck. Without looking, she knew that there were similar marks on her back, shoulders and thighs.
The bruises were much less visible this time. That would make life outside of the house easier. He had ceased his tantrum before he’d hurt her enough to require a trip to the emergency room, so although it was painful to move about the house, she was thankful for the ability to move at all.
Alison made a quick mental list of the things she would need. It wasn’t much. A few clothes and the cats were truly all she wanted. Everything else was really his, anyway. She had a bank account that she should probably close, but otherwise her life didn’t seem to have much in the way of material possessions.
She went to the bedroom and carefully went through the closets, taking only what she really needed to get by. The fancy dresses, the shoes, and even some of her more casual clothes remained in the closet while she pulled out jeans, t-shirts and more travel-suited attire.
What should she do about the car? She was trying not to take much that his money had purchased, but she needed a form of transportation. And the car was in her name, not his. Perhaps that was the one and only exception to the rule.
She wandered through the house, calling to the cats. After loudly protesting their confinement, each went into a soft-sided carrier. The carriers and her single duffel bag easily found places in the VW.
Alison went back into the house. She silently walked from room to room, trying to find something she’d left behind. Or perhaps trying to find a reason to stay. She found nothing.
The tour ended in the kitchen. Quickly, before she could change her mind, she walked to the telephone stand. She removed her rings, placed them carefully on the message pad, and then walked out without a tear or even a backward glance.
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