Moose and Goose

Chapter Thirteen

"What makes you think that," she asks him, and he glances at her neck.

"If that mark wasn't a dead giveaway, I would've guessed it. David can be - spoiled," he explains, and she listens with her lips agape. "That he gets from his mother babying him, but I take responsibility for his low self-esteem. I haven't always been the best father to him. He's been paired with many women in the past, but they never lasted a month. A lot of them fought back, and he couldn't handle it."

"So," she drones with her eyes glued to his left arm. He watches her. "If you knew that he was short-tempered, why'd you pair him with me?"

"That was Harriet's doing. She chooses the potential bride since I never have the time," he tells her, and she scoffs incredulously.

"I don't care whose decision it was," she quickly says with annoyance laced in her tone. "What I'm asking is why you two would offer a woman your damaged son?"

"David is almost twenty, and his mother and I don't want to leave this Earth without the blessing of grandchildren." He stares at his hands and says, "I'll also have faith in my son if he's changing, but if he hurt you, then that's a different story."

"Are you planning on talking to him," she asks, and he returns his attention to her.

"What's there to talk about? I didn't raise my son to be a woman beater," he argues with his brows drawn in.

"Technically, you didn't raise him. You were never in his life when he needed you," she reminds him, and he blinks his eyes wide from surprise.

"Excuse me? Not that it's any of your business, but as a man, some sacrifices have to be made for the good of our families." Douglas rises to his feet. "But you're a woman, and by nature, you think with your emotions instead of what's beneficial for the long term. The war took my father when I was young. Yes, I had him home, but his mind was lost and never in my life have I thought about raising my hand to a woman."

"I can see where his refusal to take responsibility for his actions comes from." He shuts his eyes for three seconds, then exhales sharply.

"Judith, I'm trying to be as polite as possible," he tells her.

"As am I." They stare at each other. "He doesn't hit me, Mr. Cambridge, but thank you for your concern. As always, I'm willing to put this incident behind us if he's also on board."

"I'll let him know." Douglas proceeds to the exit, and Judith stares at her fingers. He pauses in place, the knob in his left hand. After taking a deep breath with his head hung, he peeks over his shoulder at her. "There was a girl just like you. Melissa Hayworth was her name. She was the prettiest girl I've ever seen and very polite, then after time spent with my son, she found herself, quote-unquote, running into poles. Occasionally falling out of bed and developing cold sores that, to me, looked more like burst lips."

"What's the point that you're trying to make," she asks him, her eyes unable to remain on his.

"I didn't beat my son because she never admitted to what he did, but I knew it in my heart. Please come to me if not your father if my son would dare raise his hand to you." Judith briefly takes her bottom lip into her mouth and lowers her head. "That isn't a reflection of how I raised him, I can assure you."

"Maybe you should just talk to him yourself and see why he's the way that he is, Mr. Cambridge," she tells him, peering at him as she would if she were wearing her glasses; over the frame. "As for me, I won't give up on him yet. He's rough around the edges, but I can fix that. Especially since I know him and why he's violent."

Douglas looks at her like she's a lost cause. Without a word, he exits the room.

***