The Sweet Man in the Woods

By Susan Anthony-Tolbert

This is the story of a young woman’s escape from a very verbally abusive marriage. She finds the courage to leave her husband through the friendship and love of a man she meets in her daily walks with her dog in the woods. This sweet man in the woods shows her how loving and supportive a relationship can be. The story has grief, hope, friendship and a path toward a new life for the young woman. The sweet man in the woods gave her such a wonderful gift

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jul 3, 2017
• ISBN: 9781543906868

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Acknowledgements:

The author wishes to thank her husband, Dorian Tolbert, for his continual love and support; for his willingness to serve as a listener and critic for any and all of her creative endeavors; for his computer and technical skills and for his encouragement for her to dream-big!

Dedication:

This book is dedicated to my husband, my parents (Howard and Grace Anthony) and to all my dear friends and family who have supported and encouraged me throughout the years. It is also dedicated to all those individuals who have suffered abuse whether verbal/emotional or physical. My sincere hope is that they find peace, both mental and physical, freedom from their abuser and sweet love as the heroine of this story did.

Background:

This is the story, though fictional, of a young woman’s struggle with verbal and emotional abused. It is based on my professional psychological experiences in providing intake-interviews and testing, in offering therapy, and on my research in the area of verbal and emotional abuse. However, the events and characters are completely fictitious. Any similarity to real life occurrences or known individuals is completely accidental.

Chapter One: Life on the Farm

She began her morning walk, actually morning ritual, at precisely 8 each day. Her beloved, Moe, the medium-sized white fluffy dog with a unique black pattern on his back and tail, trotted happily beside her. She studied him even more fondly that morning. The new leash and red collar looked quite sporty. She didn’t hesitate to mention this to him as they walked through the meadow toward the wood line. Francine talked softly to her dog. She alternated easily between English and French. They entered what had become known as the Main Path on her husband’s farm. This path circled the whole 200 acres and was almost wide enough for a car or pick-up truck to drive it. The only obstacles were the deep roots and ruts that dotted the path. It was a grand path on which to walk or to ride a horse but not so good for a wheeled- vehicle. That morning it was slightly chilly for the 27th of March. The wind had just enough bite that Francine pulled her hood up and tightened her pink scarf. A little more than one tenth of a mile down the Main Path and oft to the right about a hundred yards, Francine had a secret place where the trees had been cut down fifty or more years ago. They had never grown back. She called this place her Refuge.There were logs, (large enough on which to sit), strewn about and a clearing that she estimated to be about 15 feet by 15 feet. And best of all, there was a small tunnel, fairly deep in the ground, covered with vines and branches. It always remained dry. The clearing was not hard to discover if a walker left the Main Path. Her Safe-Deposit-Box as she named the hiding place, provided by mother- nature in the clearing, was not quite as easy to find. Francine has discovered it quite by accident. Actually, it was Moe who found it first. He had obsessed at this spot in the clearing on one of their early walks. That was about 18 months ago. When Francine looked hard enough that morning, she found this perfect little hiding place. It now held her safe –- an actual safe, a small safe from her Mother’s house. In the safe, there were papers, photos, some extra money which she called her ‘mad-money’ and a throw-away phone –- items that in no way should Francine’s husband ever see. There was nothing clandestine about the contents of the safe. It was just that many of the items were precious and dear to her. Her constant fear was that her husband in a fit of rage would destroy them. Precious and dear were not words in his vocabulary.

The morning of March 27th, (and this date would be a forever-date in Francine’s mind), she had not yet reached her Refuge, when she looked ahead, down the Main Path and saw a figure –- a man, an almost 6 foot, slender man. He was walking toward her. There should have been no one on this path that morning or any morning. This was her husband’s property and no uninvited person was welcome. She thought quickly to herself: no one whether invited or not was welcome. She stopped short. Moe, who was not in any way a guard dog, hesitated for a second and then the tail wagging began. She reached for her fanny-pack which held the pepper spray. Then, she spoke. Excuse me. I’m not sure why you’re here. You shouldn’t be. This is private land. By this time the man was within about 25 feet of her. Francine spoke slightly louder. Please stop, I don’t know who you are or what you want. Visions of serial killers and escaped convicts danced through her head.

The man came to an abrupt halt. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I guess I got lost and I’m now trespassing. He backed up a little and raised his arms in a quick gesture as if he was to be arrested. Please, don’t be scared. I mean no harm. I’m new here and I thought this was the Lawson property. As he spoke, he studied the young woman and her dog. She was a ‘very-pretty-early-thirty-something’ with a cute dog. Her looks and her tasteful dress for walking or hiking were not lost on this man. When she lowered her hood, he noted that her thick, golden-brown hair hung around her shoulders and that she was, indeed, very pretty –-very pretty, he thought to himself.

Well, this is my husband’s farm. It’s called Tenly Flat and he isn’t thrilled to have people walking about –- he has cattle and he doesn’t allow hunting.

Oh, I’m not a hunter –- not by a long shot, forgive the pun –-I’m an avid walker/hiker and I thought that the Lawson property extended farther up the hill and included this path.

No, the Lawson property ends at that big gully you crossed.

He motioned down the path from where he had come, Actually there is a bridge that I used to cross over that gully and that’s why I thought it was part of the Lawson farm.

Francine smiled. You mean the bridge to nowhere. He looked confused as he repeated, to nowhere?

See about 5 or 6 years ago, before I married my husband, there was a dispute between him and the Lawsons over that bridge. They claimed they owned a few feet of land on what is actually our side of the gully and my husband claimed they didn’t. It was a nasty little tempest in a teapot. Anyway, they got a survey and the bridge is not completely on the Lawson property. This farm extends half way into the gully. So technically when you’re half way across the little bridge you are on this farm. She laughed. I know it sounds ridiculous.

Well, ridiculous or not, lives have been lost over territorial disputes of less importance than that!

Francine immediately liked this man. He seemed warm and friendly. He was handsome, probably early to mid 40s, dressed in a natty style (that’s how her Mother and her best friend, Diane, would have described him). Easy, she cautioned herself, serial killers seem warm and friendly until they get you close. I don’t mean to be so cautious! –- Yes, I do mean to be cautious. I don’t know you. I have no idea who or what you are!

I don’t blame you. I’m sure there aren’t many strangers in this little community. I guess until proven otherwise we are all suspicious characters. So, let me introduce myself. I’m Tom Larson. He laughed. I know it’s confusing. Larson and Lawson. I’m a Larson renting the Lawson place for the summer –- well, actually I’ve rented from March 1st to September 1st. But, I only arrived two days ago. There were delays in me getting here.

I’m Francine Lacombe Tenly. I’ve only lived on this farm for about 18 months now. I’m originally from Pennsylvania. My husband, Asa Tenly, and his family have owned this land for centuries. Well, the Lawsons have owned their land for as long and –- I guess there never has been any love lost.

Oh, that’s a shame. He acted to Francine like he was trying to find something else to say. And Tom Larson was indeed trying to prolong the conversation. He found this woman to be so attractive. He silently cursed his fate that she was married.

Francine found him to be attractive but she wanted to go to the Refugee and hoped that in his explorations he had not found it or her safe. She seriously doubted that there was any possibility of that.

That’s a really cute dog you have. Tom Larson had found a topic.

This is Moe. He’s three years old –—um, he was my Mother’s dog and when she passed, I couldn’t let him go. I love him and she loved him. My husband has no use for him though, so I keep him very close. Silently, Francine scolded herself. Why did I offer that piece of information? Sometimes I am such a dope.

I can’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t like that dog. He’s neat and sweet-looking and he obviously is so attached to you.

Francine decided that she needed to end this. Asa would be angry if the walk took more than an hour, an hour and fifteen minutes at best and she still wanted to check her Refuge. She backed away ever so slightly. "Well, I hope you have a lot of great walks this summer. And I wish I could invite you to walk the trails here but my husband would not approve."

Oh, I understand. Tom Larson nodded vigorously as if that would show the depth of his understanding. Yet, he didn’t understand at all why a husband could seem so unfriendly and he hadn’t even met the man. See you around. It was nice, very nice meeting you. With that he headed back the Main Path to where he needed to turn right, down a steep hill and onto the bridge to nowhere.

Francine and Moe continued up the Main Path for a more few hundred yards, made a right hand turn at the giant holly bush and were at her Refuge in a matter of minutes. She watched the woods carefully to be sure that somehow he had not doubled back and was close by. There was no reason to fear. Tom Larson had headed directly back to the bridge and to the property he had rented. Francine was extremely relieved when she found that her hiding place for her safe hadn’t been disturbed. She took out her throw-away cell phone and made her call to her best friend, Diane.

So, how is the Beast? There was no love lost between Asa Tenly and Diane Conlan -Parmauh.

Francine smiled to herself. Oh, Diane, let’s be charitable this morning. He’s ok. Actually, they’re starting into the big push for spring planting and fertilizing etc. So, you know it’s he and his brother working the fields of both farms. And, he’s not around much the last few days. He eats and leaves for the fields and at dinner time he eats and starts to read the paper but falls asleep with the TV blaring.

That certainly makes life more bearable. Then, the two women talked a little about mutual friends in Pennsylvania and news from Diane’s restaurant. Her husband, Dak, was expanding and offering baked goods as well as breakfast, lunch and dinner. Diane continued, I had no idea there would be such a demand for Greek pastries but we’re selling out every day. Things are going great here.

As always, Francine felt sad when the conversation was finished. She missed Diane so very much. They had been friends since they were 12 and had shared many of life’s milestones. It bothered her greatly that Asa criticized her friend and ridiculed their friendship every time he could. It was very clear that he wanted Francine to cut any and all ties with Diane.

At the same time, she felt ever so giddy this morning. Life suddenly presented a new player –-something and someone different. Tom Larson was certainly an interesting creature she told Moe. She could not deny that she found him very handsome, nicely polite and rather sensuous in the way he gazed at her. There are so many neat creatures in our woods, ‘Moe-y.’ This might prove to be very interesting. Of course, she reminded herself that Tom wouldn’t be in their woods again, –- never, ever, if Asa had his way. Still, she had great hopes that morning of running into him again.

The next morning she finished her chores: feeding the cows, the sheep, the goats and the chickens as fast as she could. She and Moe headed out to the Main Road. Though this Route 727 was considered a main artery among the farmers and loggers of the area, it was, in truth, a one lane, narrow dirt road –- well-maintained by the state highway authorities but still a one lane very narrow road. In places, Francine considered it dangerous. There was no way for a car to avoid another vehicle coming in the opposite direction. Francine feared a terrible head-on collision one day. If there was any traffic, there was no place for the walker or horseman to get out of the way. There were dirt banks from about two to three feet on every side. This was not true of every part of the road but just enough to make one think before enjoying a walk there. This morning she calculated that she could walk far enough down the road to the left of the farm and get into one of her trails. She would be safe if any traffic happened by. All this land belonged to Asa Tenly so she wouldn’t be guilty of trespassing. While she walked, she was hoping for a sighting as she told Moe.

They had walked for about 5 minutes when she decided to turn around and go back to the driveway. From there she’d find the entrance to the Main Path around the farm. Francine admitted to her dog she was somewhat disappointed that she had not seen this Tom. Then, she added, just as well, Moe, what do I want with him. Just more complication. She communicated in French. Francine loved to tell people that Moe completely understood, whether she used English or French.

Suddenly, she heard someone calling her name. It was Tom who was a few hundred feet behind her on the road. Hi, he grinned as he ran toward her. He added, Hi, Francine Lacombe Tenly, when he caught up with her. She had stopped quickly when she realized it was him. She and Moe turned so that she could observe him completely. Very nice, she whispered to Moe. He’s very nice."

Was I dreaming or did I hear you speaking French just now? I’m not skilled enough to understand what you said but it sure sounded like French.

You weren’t dreaming. I spent the first 12 years of my life in Paris and my parents though Americans were musicians in a French Symphony. They were French-Americans and so I grew up speaking both English and French.

Sounds beautiful. I love to hear people speak French. I barely passed the courses I had to take in high school and college but I love the sound of it. I always thought people must be saying something terribly important and perhaps romantic. He smiled and looked deeply into her eyes. Francine thought her heart would beat out of her chest. This man was like a vision. He was even more handsome than she had remembered, only it wasn’t just the looks, it was the sweetness and gentleness he exuded that so impressed her. She asked herself silently. Am I crazy? Is this man a vision? Is he imaginary? Have I invented him because life is pretty awful with the man I married? Do women do that? All I thought about last night was this Tom. My heavens, I thought about him all night –- a man I met in the woods. I don’t know who he is. I must be crazy. Instead, she responded. I’m one of those people who love both languages. And for better or worse I switch back and forth all the time in my head. She laughed.

Can I join you walking up Route 727 to the highway? He pointed up the one lane road. Just up to where it meets Courtside Road.

Oh, I‘d love that but to be honest, if my husband saw that, he wouldn’t like it. I better not.

His disappointment was obvious. Well, then, nice running into you and Moe again. Have a great walk. I’m going up to the highway there. He started to walk away.

Wait. Why don’t we walk the Main Path of our woods?

I didn’t think your husband would like that very much either. He winced.

Well, it’s spring planting and besides he never, ever comes into these woods. My husband is a man who likes fields –- actually fields planted with crops to make money. He hates the woods. They’re nothing more to him than money in the bank. Unfortunately at some point, he will tree or log these beautiful woods that I love. For now they’re mine. He would never come for a recreational walk in the woods. That’s a guarantee.

"And you feel safe enough to walk with me? –- I am a stranger –- though I assure you from the bottom of my heart –- I mean you no harm." He found her very attractive. He tried and quite successfully to mask how infatuated he was. He had thought about her all night. And he had cursed that she was married. He cursed that he was meeting her now and not ten or 12 years ago. Now, of all times, he had said to himself. He decided that though life could indeed be cruel, if given the chance, he would make the most of what was given. Last night he had decided that somehow he would get to know Francine Lacombe Tenly, in an honorable way of course. Tom Larson was a very honorable man.

The walk through the woods was joyous that morning. At least that was the word, Francine would use when she reviewed it over and over to herself, later in the day. Tom would describe it as more than nice. During the walk, they learned some things about each other. Francine explained about growing up with a concert harpist for a mother and a professional trumpet player for a father. She described life in Paris. To his question of do you play a musical instrument? she responded with a smile, but, of course, the harp! At first my mother would not have it any other way and then I grew to love the instrument as much as she did. However, I don’t have her talent. I’m good but she was world-class. She described the move to a little town in Pennsylvania, outside of Scranton, when she was about 12 and how her parents commuted to NYC for their musical careers. She went to high school and college there. She met her best friend in the world there –- more like a sister really –- Diane.

He described how his wife had died ten years ago and how she had suffered from a profound mental illness in addition to some physical problems. I have one daughter –- she’s the light of my life and really she is my life. Right now she’s working on her masters’ dissertation in England. She doing some research on those souls who received such horrific facial injuries in WW I. Francine added, I bet she’s studying The Tin Noses Hospitals. He grinned, How did you know about those?

I guess growing up in France I heard about the history –- both England and France had those hospitals to repair facial wounds. But, hey, I’m sorry I interrupted you; please go on with your story. He added a few more details about his beloved daughter.

They took a break beside the huge oak tree. This must be at least 200 years old, Tom declared as he studied it. Eager to know so much more about his walking companion, he asked, What do you do for a living or did for a living? Francine laughed. Well, it was anyone’s guess what I would do. Believe it or not I got three –- yes countem –-three masters: one in French; one in journalism and one in harp performance. I love all three. And, I love teaching at the college level. A Masters degree or in my case three Masters Degrees do not get you a job today in a four year university. I did teach French and Journalism for a time at the Community College here in the county. What about you?

Tom nodded. I know about how far a Masters will get a person in academics. That’s one reason I want my daughter to continue on for her doctorate in history. Anyway, I teach history at a private boys’ school outside of Philadelphia. Right now I’m enjoying a sabbatical from January to September. Mauren –- that’s my daughter, thought that at some point we would be a father and daughter team either working for a museum or at historical society. I’m just not sure that’s feasible in today’s economy –-but nonetheless, it’s our dream.

While they traveled up the North section of the Main Path, she laughed at some of the antics of the squirrels and Tom teased and laughed and she teased him back. Even Moe seemed to sense that this was a special walk. When she glanced at her watch and saw that it was almost 9:30, she quickly mentioned, I better head back. We can just retrace our steps and you can turn at the path to the nowhere bridge."

Sounds great. He pointed out more plants to her as they walked. To her questions about why he knew so much about flora and fauna, he explained that he had been in a nature-walking club. When they reached his turn off the path, he inhaled sharply. "Um – tomorrow –- at your driveway. Same time?