What Happened to Barbara

Chapter 1

Homecoming

THE SKY WAS full of fluffy clouds, the sun was beaming and birds were singing merrily. Extremely thin and shaking a bit, Barbara felt cold and slightly frightened as her upper arm was gripped tightly and she was led to the car that was going to take her home. Her husband’s face was far from welcoming.

Home—there was no comfort in the thought of home; she could hardly remember what it looked like and what memories she had were made uncomfortable and unclear by the medications she had repeatedly been forced to take. She thought, I should be happy to be leaving this place but instead I’m fearful.

She glanced back at the massive cold grey cement block building she had just come from. This had been ‘home’ for the past two years and as cold and unfriendly as it had been; somehow it seemed a safer place than where she was going. She wasn’t really sure she wanted her memories of ‘home’ to become clearer.

The young nurse who accompanied them had mixed feelings about turning Barbara over to this unfriendly man whom she had seen in whispered exchanges with Dr. Laraby after which Barbara had again been heavily medicated.

Barbara was a lovely, fine boned, fairly tall, painfully thin woman with golden hair that sorely needed care. The nurse liked Barbara but had always felt uncomfortable around Wesley Renwick, Barbara’s husband, who had never shown any affection or concern for his wife. Under the circumstances she felt this was strange. The one good thing that had happened for Mrs. Renwick was that, after eighteen months in the institution, her case was turned over to the new Psychiatrist, Dr. Bosworth.

What she was unaware of was that the continued use of strong medication and shock therapy had brought Barbara to a very perilous physical condition and the arrival of Dr. Bosworth allowed Laraby to turn her case over to him. If her heart failed and she died, Bosworth would be the one responsible for her death, not Laraby.

Barbara had been a severely injured young woman when she was brought into the facility and she was still thin and pale and flinched at any unexpected sound.

The husband broke into her musing and asked for Barbara’s medication.

The Nurse said Good-bye to Barbara, squeezing her hand, feeling she needed some kind of reassurance, and slowly, looking back as she went, returned to the forbidding looking building.

Wesley spoke sharply, Get in the car, Barbara. It’s time to go home; the children are waiting for you.

The children, her children, were waiting. They had been waiting during the two years she had been locked up in the so-called sanitarium. It was a place where people sent their ‘not quite right’ family members to ‘get well’ or to get rid of them.

The first doctor had not been kind or helpful but had put her in restraints when she had been so frightened that she fought everyone who tried to get near her. That was in the beginning, when she couldn’t understand why Wesley had brought her to this madhouse. After she had been there for eighteen months of abuse and drug induced weakness and confusion, Dr. Bosworth was assigned to her case when he joined the staff. That was six months ago and during that time he had gradually made her understand that in addition to her physical injuries she had been suffering from severe clinical depression because of the loss of her baby. She had, for some unknown reason, fallen down a long flight of stairs, damaging herself and, unfortunately killing her unborn child.

Wesley had told the doctors he knew she had deliberately thrown herself down the stairs with the intention of losing the baby and possibly killing herself. She knew that wasn’t true but she was so ill with internal injuries and a mild concussion while she was in the city hospital that she had been unable to explain to anyone what had really happened; that she had been pushed in a house where no one else was supposed to have been at the time. The result of her frantic attempt to explain that had been the cause, she thought, of her two years stay here in what she mentally called ‘horror hall’.

The Director, Doctor Laraby, with a bit of financial encouragement, had gone along with Wesley’s suggestions and as a result she had, as a general rule, endured massive medication to calm her (or shut her up) and when she became insistent she was subjected to shock therapy.

After she had been there for eighteen months, Dr, Bosworth came to work with Dr. Laraby and had been given Barbara’s case. At first he was puzzled by and finally believed her continued insistence that she was telling the truth, that she had been pushed and was not suicidal in spite of all the ‘therapy’ she had had to endure. It was clear to him that the treatment prescribed for Barbara was far from the care recommended for her diagnosed clinical depression and he began to gradually decrease the drugs that were keeping her constantly off balance. It was he who suggested to her that the way to get home was to become calm and for the moment, not to continue insisting that she had been pushed. No one hears you, Barbara, their pattern is to believe the ‘healthy’ family member and go for a ‘cure’ with the protester. I’ll help you get out of here if you’ll let me. He spent time with her, testing her and speaking with her at length about various things relating to her family.

She was still a bit fuzzy about a lot of things but on the point of being pushed she never wavered, she learned to be calm as Dr. Bosworth suggested and behave as they wanted her to so she could get out of there. He kept a complete record of his findings and planned to keep an eye out for her and after her release, to visit her at home once in a while as he was not sure her home situation was healthy, or even safe.

In the beginning of his assignment to Barbara’s case he had been approached by Wesley Renwick with his insistence that she be kept ‘quiet’ as he said, for her own protection. His response to this clearly malicious man was to refer him to Dr. Laraby. Dr. Laraby, for his own reasons told Wesley to keep away from Bosworth.

When they finally arrived at the house that had been her home, Barbara had to be helped from the car. She felt as though she had been sleeping too long and was having a hard time to fully awaken. She recognized the house and saw, to her surprise, that the garden which had been her pride and joy had been maintained. Did Wesley see to that?

Mom is here! Mommy is home! called her children. There they were; Sarah, twelve years old now, and Roger, nine, her children. As they rushed towards her she shrank back against the car but was immediately engulfed by her eager children, hugging her and finally, making her feel more alive and real than she had in a very long time. She felt tears streaming down her face and held them as tightly as she could—not wanting to lose them ever again.

Wesley abruptly pulled Barbara out of the children’s arms and announced, All right, kids, leave your mother alone till she gets used to us. I’ll just take her up to her room now.

The children reluctantly let her go and she was taken to what Wesley had called ‘her’ room, not ‘our’ room. She was curious to see where her room was and shocked to find herself in what would have been the nursery for the lost baby. It was redecorated; at least the nursery furniture was removed but it still had the fairytale wall paper and carousel lamp, but her sense of what was right told her that this was not.

She was beginning to remember how Wesley had always made decisions without consulting her or even telling her sometimes. She was also beginning to remember her useless, unexpressed anger.

Wesley had been a loving, fairly good looking man who absolutely required order in his world—his order—when they married. Barbara had loved him and smiled on his obvious insecurities and nurtured him by allowing him to direct things as he saw fit but over time, he had become more and more dictatorial and hard.

Putting her in this room was a travesty but she would not yet let him know how she felt. She had learned the hard way to keep her feelings to herself for safety’s sake.

She looked in the closet and found all her clothes. She’d probably have to alter them as she had lost quite a bit of weight in that place. The dresser drawers were filled with her things and there were items in the vanity that she had never expected to see again; her silver brush and comb, her makeup, even the etched silver hand mirror her grandmother had given her years ago on her eighteenth birthday. It seemed that she was to be guest rather than wife. She wondered who was keeping up the house and caring for the children. That question was soon answered when Sarah knocked on the door and quietly invited her to come down to a dinner which had obviously been planned and cooked by someone.

As she reached the top of the stairs she had a momentary chill and felt as though there was someone behind her waiting to push. Quickly she shook her head and walked down to join her family.

Dinner was well prepared and delicious and she complimented it and asked, Who does the cooking?

Wesley’s cool response was, I hired a housekeeper to do what was needed. It works quite well and you don’t have to worry about such things.

Don’t you think it would be a good idea for me to meet her? she asked, I’d like to be able to take part in the planning and shopping.

It’s not your business to worry about any of that, replied Wesley sharply, Just concentrate on getting well and let me handle the details.

But I am well, Wesley, she said, or I wouldn’t be here, would I? I will want something to do; I can’t just sit around reading or looking at the walls.

Wesley became the hard man she remembered, Barbara are you listening? I told you I’d take care of things.

She didn’t reply but sat quietly eating her food and trying to avoid the glances from the children and the woman who was serving the meal. As dessert was being served, Barbara told the housekeeper how much she had enjoyed the meal. The woman, who had been very serious up till now, smiled at her and things seemed a bit better.

After dinner they moved to the living room and Sarah and Roger wanted to be near their mother and talk to her about school and how they had taken care of the garden for her.

Wesley said, No conversation tonight. Your mother is tired.

No, I’m not, said Barbara, I’d love to have some time with the children and hear what they’ve been doing.

Wesley’s response was more strident, I said, no conversation tonight. Children, go up to your rooms and study. I expect the best grades from you and that doesn’t come from conversation.

Sarah didn’t want to leave so she begged, Daddy, you know I always get the best grades. I really want to be with Mommy tonight, please?

Sarah, listen to my words, barked Wesley, Go to your room NOW!

Sarah stopped to hug her mother and quickly went upstairs.

Barbara wasn’t sure how to handle this but she felt she had to try to have some say in what happened with her children, Wesley, the children and I need some time together. Dr. Bosworth said it was important to get us all back to a positive space with each other. Don’t you think you were a bit harsh?

You don’t have any say in this, Barbara. For the past two years I have been the one in charge and things have gone well, said Wesley, I don’t think having an unstable person trying to guide them is healthy or wise, Dr. Bosworth notwithstanding. Things will go as I say. If you try to change things you might just find yourself back at Greenwoods.

Are you threatening me, Wesley? Asked Barbara, I am quite well according to Dr. Bosworth and he suggested that interaction with my children would not only be good for me but for the children as well.

Wesley sneered, Dr. Bosworth’s idea of who is well and who is not is tainted by continued proximity to the inmates of his establishment. In this house I say what is to happen, not Dr. Bosworth. I expect you to remember that.

Barbara was dismayed but still unwilling to give up. What has happened to you, Wesley? You used to be a nice person, not a martinet. Why have you changed so much?

Having a wife who deliberately killed our child and then spent two years safe from the responsibility for that would tend to change a person, don’t you think?

Barbara was shocked, I can’t believe that you truly think that. I love my children and would no more have harmed that baby than I would have committed suicide. What a horrible thing to say.

I say what I believe, said Wesley, perhaps two years in that place has purged you of that memory but I remember. Now, if you have nothing more useful to say, I suggest you take your medication and return to your room."

Just one more thing, said Barbara, Why did you remove my things to the nursery of all places? That was a cruel thing to do.

Less cruel than deliberately killing your unborn child, I think. I no longer wish to live with you as man and wife but I don’t plan to disturb the children by going through a divorce, so this, the only other available room, is your alternative choice. Goodnight, Barbara.

Breathless with the shock of the things that had just transpired, Barbara stumbled to the stairs and returned to the room that was to have been a joyful place for her precious baby. She did not take the medication that had kept her in a fog all those years but she threw one of the tablets down the toilet so Wesley wouldn’t know. Her last thought before falling into an exhausted sleep was, ‘I must find a way out of this. There must be someone who can help me.’

One of the persons who could help, though she was as yet unaware of that fact, was Dr. Bosworth who called at the house the next day to see how she was doing.

The housekeeper, Mrs. Meadows, answered the door when he rang and called Barbara who came downstairs with some trepidation, Did Wesley call you to take me back?

Bosworth was surprised at this greeting, No, I came to see how you were settling in. He noticed that she was looking over her shoulder as if she was afraid of something so he suggested, You have a lovely garden here, Barbara, would you like to show me around?

Barbara nodded and went down the front stairs and toward the back garden. I believe the children have been taking care of it for me.

As soon as they were away from the house, Dr. Bosworth asked, What are you afraid of, Barbara? You seem all wound up. Has it been difficult coming back here? It will help if you can talk about it

Hearing such gentle words after enduring Wesley’s cruelty released her tears and Barbara sank onto a bench in the pergola and wept bitterly. The Doctor put his arm around her and waited till she was calm again then asked, Why don’t you tell me about it?

Barbara described what had happened from the time she arrived home until last evening and the doctor listened quietly but his eyes told a different story, they were filled with anger at Wesley’s vicious behavior.

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