And then had come her wedding night. Nothing in her young life had prepared her for the depravity some men reveled in. She had nightmares about what he’d done to her, that night and others, when she was too bruised and frightened to fight back anymore. She’d tried to run away once, and called the police, after he’d injured her so badly. But he’d found her and convinced her protectors that she’d overreacted to what was basically just a sad accident. He loved her desperately. He couldn’t live without her. He told everybody.

Ida knew better. He couldn’t live without her money. But she was encouraged to forgive him and make her marriage work. Her sweet friends who’d taken her in had been happily married for twenty-five years. They had no idea what her life was like. And she was too ashamed to tell them.

“Mrs. Merridan?”

She lifted her head and came out of the reverie quickly. She smiled at the nurse as she got painstakingly to her feet and followed the younger woman back to the treatment room.

* * *

Dr. Menzer examined her and grimaced.

“What did you do?” he asked.

She flushed. “It’s autumn,” she began.

“You can hire big strong hefty men to lift those heavy pots into your sunroom,” he said shortly and watched her flush. She did the same thing every year, just before frost warnings went out, getting her precious herbs and flowering plants inside. “You’ve no business trying to do it yourself.”

She made a face. “I can’t let my flowers die. And I love fresh herbs.”

“Buy some at the store.”

“It’s not the same,” she pointed out.

He drew in a breath. “Ida, there are things you just can’t do anymore. Heavy labor tops the list. You have to be sensible.”

“Sensible.” She sighed. “He’s out of prison, you know,” she added, her blue eyes poignant. “He wants money. He says if I don’t give it to him, I can expect even worse than I had before he was convicted.”

“Talk to Cody Banks.”

“I have,” she replied. “I took out a restraining order as well. But if somebody wants to kill you, he can,” she added.

“If he wants money, killing you isn’t in his best interest, now is it?” he returned.

“I guess not. I had a new will drawn up when he went to prison, guaranteeing that if I die, he inherits nothing.” She drew in a long breath. “The nightmares came back, when he called me. I thought Bailey was the ideal man’s man. Boy, was I wrong.”

“We all make mistakes.”

“Yes, but most of us don’t end up in intensive care when we make them,” she replied with a faint smile.

“You survived at least,” he replied. “That’s something.”

“I guess.”

“I’m going to have Melanie call in a prescription for stronger anti-inflammatories,” he said, typing on his computer. “You’ll take them for five days only, then ten days off. That way you’ll be able to keep your liver and save your kidneys.”