Barbara

By Bettie MacIntyre

Secrecy surrounded Barbara's birth. A bright country girl, she gained a full scholarship as a medical student. One evening, five male coeds violated her and left her pregnant. The university told her not to reveal the incident, as the boy's families contributed large endowments. She promised herself that one day, she would seek revenge.

 

Joe, a young medical student, learned about the incident and offered to help her. They fell in love, and Barbara had a boy. Tragically, Joe and their newborn child are killed in a car accident. She graduated as a psychologist and advanced to become a department head. She reluctantly married again, but the relationship quickly soured. After a quick divorce, Barbara meets Henry, a cardiologist who abandoned a successful career after the death of his wife and now drives a cab. An evening at his place, her heart is taken by Henry's two little girls, and her feelings for him quickly turn into deep love.

 

Barbara's life seems complete. She has Henry, his girls, and twin boys of her own, but she has never forgotten the injustice she suffered at the hand of five boys so many years ago. Will she forgive them and gain a measure of inner peace, or seek revenge?

 

A story of Passion, Faith, Violation, and Haunting Memories.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bettie Macintyre
• Release date: Mar 22, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215180501

Bettie MacIntyre

I have lived most of my life in New England, but my heart will always remain in Vermont. I accomplished all that I wanted with in my career, but as my vocation, I love to write, and have been drafting short stories and poems from childhood. After taking early retirement, I put pen to paper and gave birth to the scrapes of stories and poems filed away, and The Hollow was born. It is a metaphorical story of a naïve country girl from the foothills of Vermont. I say metaphorical, but I will let you decide. I’ll give you a clue—Bettie I. MacIntyre.

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Acknowledgments

A thank you to my Grandparents who began my path of faith. I am grateful that my path in life was set to an old prayer. ‘Whatever happens to me, I know God will put my world in order.’ My deep faith is my rudder, and my family the beacon, especially my boys and special daughters.

Thank you, my little constant companion, Clara Mae. A patient, kind, and sweet ‘fur child.’ Snuggling near me for hours. A calming little girl, sharing early morning walks, breakfast, writing, and bedtime. (Most of the time!)

I thank the Bristol Senior Center Writers/My Story members. Eric Larson, Steve Vastola, Bruce Barton., Rich Smith, Sharon Bachand, and Amalia Nunley. We meet weekly, read, critique, craft, and discuss our manuscripts. Several are published authors; a few are in the process; some write for enjoyment. Together, we meld in helping one another perfect our writing talents.

Thanks to Arthur Paul and Bruce Barton for their in-depth time soothing out my manuscript's rough edges. Arthur is a retired engineer and avid reader. Indeed, he is a grammarian, to say the least. Bruce is a talented writer who offered his personal proofing style. He is a veteran and has written many military-type books. Bruce is a published author.

Stefan Vučak for additional proofreading. He is my mentor and advised me from my novice writing days. He encouraged and molded me into a better author. I thank him for his patience and understanding.

https://www.stefanvucak.com

Laura Shinn, cover artist, illustrator, and author. Talented beyond explanation. Her skills are magical, with a mind of gumdrops and fairy dust. Laura divides her professional time as a loving wife and devoted mother.

http://laurashinn.yolasite.com

Prologue

_______________________________

She awoke in her white-laced batiste nightgown soaked from a horrific nightmare. Barbara panicked from a vision of a long-ago evening working as a med student at a morgue. She tried to calm down before rising from the damp bed. During her hot morning shower, Barbara lingered, trying to wash the stain of the traumatic incident that forced her young life into chaos.

Still wet, she searched the back of her closet for Joe’s favorite soft blue two-piece suit. It had a heart-shaped breast pocket where he tucked a handkerchief. His gram had hand-crocheted the edge and wanted him to give it to the girl he loved as a treasure to pass on generationally. She thought the classic two-piece style couldn’t be lovelier, delighted it still fit and was perfect for the task she had in mind. ‘I have Joe with me in spirit. And I know Henry will understand.’

Monday morning time to make her appearance at the university as Dr. Barbara MacMartin, a neurophysiologist with a Ph.D. in psychology, and professor at the prestigious New York University.

Sitting at her desk, she took a sheet of engraved watermarked stationery from the desk drawer and wrote a resignation letter. Upon completion, she signed it and added, Head Clinical Professor.

She was a well-known and respected academic. After a moment, she laid the letter on her desk. With a hefty shove, she pushed back her desk chair, stood slowly, and looked out the window as if in a daze, reflecting on her life. Dr. Barbara closed her eyes. She inhaled slowly and deeply. The aroma of her career seeped deep into her lungs. The old thick leather chair inherited from her predecessor exuded a lemony scent of cleaning oil used on the solid wooden desk and oak bookcases. A distinct smell remained of old book bindings and the tinge of pipe tobacco her predecessor smoked that no amount of paint could erase. She glanced at the single sheet of paper lying on her desk.

Now I can be Bobbie again, she declared firmly to herself and relaxed; she felt grateful and reticulated with one regret.

As an only child living in the country with elderly grandparents, indeed a naïve country girl in a metropolitan world. Young and inexperienced, what did she know of the worldly ways, being a young girl protected from the evils of the city?

Barbara’s lack of judgment in men hampered her early life. Her evaluation of the opposite sex as a psychologist was her failure. After her first forever love, she led with her emotions, not intellect. Barbara thought all men must be as kind as her first love, young Joe Vigliara, and fell for a man of lesser character. She eventually became a respected professor and an intellectual but damned herself for allowing her emotions to override her mentation. She is known professionally as Dr. MacMartin, but her friends called her Bobbie.

She would never forget Joe, who fulfilled her love destiny. But the loose ends permanently etched tragedy on her heart and left her empty for many years. She looked up and asked God to forgive her. A sinister thought festered in her mind, and something deep in her heart wanted retaliation.

Her teaching style propelled students to excel in higher education. She instituted the Annual Scholarship Award for incoming students, with their promise to Pay it Forward to another worthy student. It began a domino effect and gave monetary ease to multiple students the advantage of an otherwise expensive education.

After all these years, Barbara felt stagnant. It was the perfect time to retire from her seat on the NYU Board. The befouled memory was the remaining remembrance that gnawed at her in these late years. She had rolled up a dossier in a secret compartment of the inherited grandmother’s desk of the classmates who wronged her and their status—now men. She made a conscious decision to visit each of them after her retirement. There were a few loose ends at the university, and then she’d be on her way.

Barbara knew her love for Henry was the same as for Joe, not more, but equal to his affection, and he filled her mature years with all she ever desired. Together they were complete. He was all she wanted, and she would never hurt him or his children. Barbara’s stomach gnawed with perplexity, knowing she was going forward with her evil scheme. First, she had to make her retirement official.

In her gentle way, she would visit all those dreadful men in her life to get revenge. She often thought she could have eluded this lingering anguish that caused such deep torment.

Chapter 1

Dr. MacMartin

Parting is such sweet sorrow.

Romeo and Juliet

~ William Shakespeare ~

_______________________________

Arriving at her office earlier than usual, Dr. Barbara MacMartin wearing one of her various navy blue suits and matching shoes with one persistent thought, ‘I’m practical. I’m thirty-four and a bore.’

She was sitting in the old thick leather desk chair trying to relax as her concentration reticulated on the complexity of her life. She eased into her daily breathing routine by inhaling deeply and slowly exhaling. Shutting her eyes, she took a deep breath. Her nose pursed with the faint aromas from the closed room, reminding her of the predecessor’s pipe scent. Dr. Barbara promptly changed her thoughts to the afternoon battle she was facing. Her mind was flooded with the soon-to-be ex-husband Carl.

Her assistant Rachael, a well-groomed medical secretary, softly knocked on the doctor’s office door. She wedged herself partway through, and her long, straight, auburn-tinged brown hair swished against the door frame. She leaned slightly in and softly mentioned, Your next patient is here, Dr. MacMartin.

The doctor acknowledged with a nod.

Good morning, Julie. Dr. MacMartin glanced at her patient entering, dressed in a black mid-length skirt with a simple white long-sleeved blouse. Aware of her pristine appearance, Dr.MacMartin remembered how she usually came in looking disheveled.

Astonished, Dr. Barbara remarked, Julie, you look lovely this morning. Please have a seat on the lounge.

Julie was the only patient scheduled for the day. Barbara gave her a consoling smile while thinking, ‘Another married woman with a roving husband yearning to keep her marriage merely for security.’

Dr. Barbara sat in the wingback chair across from Julie relaxing in the lounge. She opened the manila folder labeled with Julie’s name and quickly reviewed her documented notes from the previous session to refresh her mind. She thought, ‘To live with someone only for security is like being a legal prostitute. How sad.’

Dr. Barbara said, Julie, what’s been happening this past week? The doctor listened to Julie vacillate about her problematic life’s mishaps. She finally interrupted and asked, Have you given any thought to last week’s suggestion?

Julie brightened visibly. I did! And I signed up to finish my teaching degree. The administrator told me they would accept all my credits. I can finish most of them online. I can start my student teaching after the next semester and graduate by the end of this year.

That’s terrific! You accomplished all that in one week. Barbara nodded with approval, amazed that Julie, for the first time, followed through with a challenging suggestion. Wonderful! You’re going in the right direction. I’m proud of you and can’t wait to see you next week.

Julie looked at her and told her how much she appreciated her guidance. Without her encouragement, she would never have returned to finish her degree. Excitedly, she declared, I’m starting to feel better about myself. I know now I want to move forward to regain my self-esteem.

Excellent. Dr. MacMartin rose and closed the file. See you next week, Julie.

After Julie left, Barbara returned to the leather chair. She lay the thick manila folder onto the desk and then rested her head against the chair’s indented, soft leather headrest. She willed herself to relax, rolling her head gently from side to side, eyes closed. The chair’s swivel base rhythmed to her feet, gliding back and forth, circling, swaying. She took a couple of deep breaths, then remembered the events of her day ahead. Barbara had to remind herself to breathe, exhale, and relax. As she meditated, those old reminders of soothing lemon oil and the mingled musty tang of old books crept back from years ago.

How could I have forgotten those essentials in my life? I put my entire life aside, and for what? Those odors flow through the arteries of my soul and I let them go.

Her mind reflected on her multiple clouded judgments during her marriage to Carl. Why hadn’t she considered her career first? A regret still haunts her. She questioned the whys of self-mentation. Mending a patient’s problems didn’t make sense when her situation was so fruitless. For years, a web of lies had become a jagged pattern that allowed Carl to deceive her. Now feeling devoid of future dreams, she could only think, ‘Did my truth blind me?’

Dr. MacMartin knew she always looked professional and businesslike. She now questioned what happened to the girl inside the navy blue suit, white silk blouse, and matching plain navy and white shoes. She fluffed her light auburn-tinged brown hair and touched up her lipstick. A private office bathroom gave her time to do a once-over in the full-length mirror. She looked at herself, modeling the suit as she pivoted from side to side.

"I look pretty damn good considering the circumstances I’m about to face. ‘Parting is such sweet sorrow. Oh, Romeo, where for art thou?’ To hell with you, Shakespeare!"

The town square clock pealed twelve defining chimes.

She felt ready for the Friday afternoon event. Dr. Barbara MacMartin was prepared to finalize her declaration of independence, knowing she had previously revealed intimate details to her legal team only known to her.

She reserved a suite for the weekend at the Hotel Marriott. Her bags were packed and the reserved taxi should be outside. After saying goodbye to her assistant Rachael, she tucked one overnighter under her arm, grabbed her briefcase, and picked up a small piece of luggage with her other hand. Barbara took a deep breath and hurried out.

Dr. MacMartin moaned when she left the old building, pushed back the heavy oak doors, and entered a new chapter of her life. She stood in front of the entranceway for several minutes, waiting for her reserved cab to pick her up. She glanced towards the faculty parking lot and noticed a taxi waiting with its motor running. She chuckled that the driver had taken the liberty to park there. Walking quickly towards the cab, she put her arm on the open drivers-side window. Looking inside at the driver, she asked, Are you waiting for Dr. Barbara MacMartin?

The driver said, That’s me, and would that be you?

Yes! she answered.

He noticed her luggage, hopped out of his cab, and placed them into the trunk. She watched him. He assisted her into the back seat and she handed him a paper with the address of her destination. He gave her a nod as he noticed the familiar address.

The cab coasted to a stop in front of the courthouse. Dr. MacMartin asked him to wait for her. The driver reminded her that her luggage was in the taxi’s trunk. She told him what she had to do shouldn’t take too long.

Me lady, me and the meter will be waiting.

Barbara replied, Thank you,

The soon-to-be ex-husband Carl had cheated on her and broken her heart. He manipulated the judicial system with an end-of-day appointment for his convenience in the same way he maneuvered her during their courtship.

* * *

Dr. Barbara MacMartin breathed a sigh of relief as she exited the building and paused on the courthouse granite landing. Upset but alleviated that this had transpired. ‘I put that bastard through college working double shifts in the hospital psych ward. Now that he’s successful, he wants a divorce. You and your young girlfriend are going to share our dreams. Go to hell, Carl! I got my annulment.’

She unbuttoned her suit jacket, removed it, and threw it over her right shoulder, revealing her sheer white silk blouse. Barbara stood tall, held her head high, and couldn’t help but inwardly sneer, thinking of Carl’s ignorance and arrogance. His settlement was a car... a Jag, and nothing else. She had blindsided him with the annulment.

Her insides had been in knots, terrified he would discover her inheritance and lucrative investments. Her team of lawyers had Carl sign the annulment documents releasing her from any future financial obligation. She felt relieved knowing they filed the papers immediately with the town clerk’s office. Her mind kept repeating, ‘Carl, if only you knew of my financial situation, I got off cheap. Have fun with your cutie.’

Standing on the top granite landing, Barbara felt like Sylvester Stallone in Rocky. She was exalted and tempted to shout, arms reaching into the air; she stood quietly saying, I am Dr. Barbara MacMartin; I am a woman of independent means. Overlooking the passersby preventing an outward display, they couldn’t dispel her inward elation. Remaining poised, she told herself, ‘Remember, you’re a Renaissance woman.’ She gracefully and slowly stepped down the granite stairs with an erect back and strolled confidently to her waiting taxi.

When her driver noticed his passenger descending the steps that Friday afternoon, he could see her approaching him that late August day. The sun shone high, and Barbara appeared dewy from nerves. He questioned her facial appearance and wondered if she was all right. He could see a dark mask of anger had descended upon her, eroding any joy.

Carl was sitting in his Jaguar, the luxury auto purchased with her money, cuddling beside his young girlfriend, kissing her fervently. Barbara had to pass the sports car and the embraced occupants to get to her taxi. She was finally relieved from Carl’s vortex of confusion. Being a dignified woman, she took a deep breath, held her statuesque appearance, and looked straight ahead. She resisted glancing at the kissing couple or giving a second look with the utmost self-control and professional etiquette as she passed.

In her navy blue suit and sheer white silk blouse, she slowly strolled to her taxi and threw her jacket onto the back seat in a dignified feminine manner. She swallowed heavily to clear the lump in her dry throat, thinking, ‘I’m going to throw up.’ Nearly overwhelmed, she put her hand over her mouth. Her only thought was, ‘I will dissect you, starting with your penis. God, please don’t let me faint.’

She climbed into the cab’s back seat and asked, Please stop at the first bar you see. I want to have a celebratory drink to toast my former husband’s future lobotomy.

Oh, pretty lady, that’s a rather serious thing to say. I felt that way me self at times. Better to drown your sorrow. I have the perfect place for that drink.

The cabbie arrived minutes later at an unfamiliar side street. The faded sign above the door read Clancy’s.

Dr. Barbara thought, ‘Of course, a sleazy-looking Irish bar.’ She looked around. The outside windows appeared dirty and needed cleaning. The scattered outdoor debris matched her thoughts perfectly. She asked him to accompany her in because it looked a little rough. As an afterthought, she asked, By the way, what is your name?

Henry’s, me name. It was originally Honour, an old Scottish name, but I Americanized it. Too many people would poke fun at me for being named Honour. I assure you, Miss, I am an honorable man. I changed it to Henry. I am on duty and the meter is running. Don’t worry. I will keep an eye out for you. Tell the bartender Henry is waiting outside and he’ll watch over you. Mark me word.

She sat there and listened to him ramble on, and thought, ‘I don’t care what the derivative is of your name or your history right now. All I asked was your name!’

Dr. Barbara thought, ‘After that explanation, he should remain in his cab.’ She continued to think, ‘Watch over me? Mark me words! All those clichés. I guess that’s what cabbies do; they always engage in petty conversation.’

Dr. Barbara walked into Clancy’s, sat at the bar, and ordered a glass of merlot. She introduced herself to the bartender. My name is Barbara, but please call me Bobbie. Henry is my taxi driver. He told me you’d watch over me while I’m here.

The second glass of wine flushed away her tension, and she returned to the cab with a silly grin. A warmth of joy filled her veins. She couldn’t wait to