He wished he could take her in his arms and ease her pain. Paul noticed his hands trembling and warm sweat on his brow. The room suddenly felt uncomfortably warm, the air heavy. Taking slow deep breaths, Paul was troubled by his reaction to this woman. All of his training seemed to abandon him.
`It's just the day,' he assured himself. The meeting with the Anderson's had taken a lot out of him and he was tired.
Lifting his long frame off of the leather sofa, Paul slowly walked to his desk. Opening the brown address book that lay on the front of his desk, he studied it, his back to Jersey. `Stay objective', he chided himself. `Do not become emotionally involved.'
Clearing his throat, his voice husky, he turned to Jersey,
"I don't think you should go home. Coming to me was the first step, you need to get out of there now.” reaching for the telephone, he continued. “I know someone who handles domestic violence cases, let me call her and we will find you a safe place to stay for awhile. We have a network of resources. Your husband will not be able to find you.”
Holding the cordless telephone in his left hand, Paul looked at the open page of his address book and began dialing the number.
"No!” Jersey quickly crossed to Father Paul and clutched his right arm to stop him from dialing the phone. Startled by her sudden reaction Paul stopped dialing.
"If you want to help me you won't do this. That would only make things worse.” desperately, Jersey pleaded, holding onto Paul's arm. Paul could feel her finger nails digging into his skin.
Slowly Paul set the handset back onto the charger then gently covered the hand that was clutching his arm with his own. Sliding his fingers under Jersey's palm he loosened her grip on him. Jersey let go and quickly stepped back from Paul.
"I can't leave yet, I'm not ready.” she stammered trying to escape again.
"Wait, Jersey.” Paul took a step towards Jersey, trying to reason with her.
Backing away further, Jersey appeared to be cowering in fear. Paul quickly stopped and reached into the pocket of his black Dockers. He knew he had lost her again. This woman would only let him get so close and then she would get frightened.
Paul's domestic violence training should have prepared him for this behavior. Getting a woman to leave an abusive spouse was extremely difficult. There was a deep seated guilt and shame involved. Paul was aware that he had rushed her. He needed to back off.
`Damn,' he thought to himself angrily. `I did it again.' Disgusted with himself, Paul tried to reach Jersey another way.
"Jersey, please, take this.” Paul extended his hand to Jersey holding a small white business card. “It has my home, office and cell phone numbers on it. If you have to go home, then please call me if you feel like you are in danger, day or night.” Father Paul spoke softly and slowly trying to calm the frightened woman.
"There is a domestic abuse hotline on the back. They can get you into a shelter immediately if you are in danger.” Paul took a step towards Jersey holding out the card, encouraging her to take it.
Searching Father Paul's face, looking for answers, Jersey asked unexpectedly,
"How does leaving, save my marriage?”
"Saving your life is more important right now.” Paul answered quietly.
As if a levee had just burst, Jersey slumped into the leather chair sobbing. Paul stood next to her with his hand on her shoulder and let her cry. A river of tears had been shed here today.
Trying to quench the anger that was building again, Paul wondered what kind of man could hurt a woman like this. She was so small and delicate, like a butterfly.
`What monster would attack her with broken glass?' Praying silently to himself, Paul asked the Lord to give Jersey the strength to end the abuse. Walk away. If her husband gets the help he needs then maybe they can salvage their marriage. Paul worried deeply for Jersey's safety.
Eventually Jersey's sobbing was replaced with small sniffles. Paul released her shoulder. Stepping towards the table he reached for the box of Kleenex and offered it to Jersey. Silently waiting, Paul felt that Jersey needed his presence more than his words.
Taking the Kleenex, Jersey wiped her eyes and blew her nose. Leaning back in the chair she closed her eyes and tried to regain her composure. Her confession and breakdown leaving her exhausted.
Finally, Jersey stood and faced Father Paul. Extending her right hand to him she spoke for the first time since the tears began,
"Thank you for listening to me, Father. I knew I needed to talk to you today.”
Covering her hand with both of his, Paul struggled to find the right words as he looked down into her soft sad eyes.
“Please call me if you need anything.” his deep voice husky, he searched her face.
Still holding her hand, Paul had the feeling he was never going to see this woman again, “I think we have more to talk about Jersey, will you come again?”
"I don't know.” pulling her hand from his, she tried to give the kind, handsome priest a reassuring smile. “I'll be ok.”
Father Paul stepped aside, there seemed nothing more that she needed from him today. Her shoulder brushed his arm as she passed. Father Paul stood in the doorway and watched her go. As she reached for the knob on the door to leave she turned back and looked at him. Their eyes locked, his full of worry and hers full of pain. The world seemed to stop moving as they stared at each other. So much left unsaid. Then it was over. Jersey turned the knob and left the office, leaving Father Paul with a sense of loss.