Free A Dance With the Devil: A True Story of Marriage to a Psychopath by Barbara Bentley Page B

Peaches, and he’d never, ever hit me. If we were married, he wouldn’t be able to leave so easily. My whitewash brush was busy making everything clean and fresh. I was a woman in love.
    How about John’s arrest? Oh, yes, the arrest. The month before our move, John was arrested and booked on felony grand theft, over four Remington Rand typewriters. I was devastated and scared. It had to have been a misunderstanding, otherwise Ted would not have put up his motorhome as bond. John’s explanation sounded reasonable. He had purchased the typewriters for his school for schizophrenics and was waiting for his stipend from the state to pay for them. A mistake. It was all a big mistake. He’d be able to get the charges dropped. I stopped asking questions and stuffed this in my sack of things to deal with later.
    As boundaries disappeared, happy thoughts flooded in and I felt more pleasure than pain. Saturday nights were no longer lonely. Travel, one of my passions, was exciting and adventurous. Mexico. St. Croix. Where else might we go? Best of all, our relationships with my family and friends blossomed.
    My denial and neediness worked overtime. All couples have issues to work through, I reasoned. Ours will be financial. I knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that I made John’s life better. He had said already that his time with me was the happiest in his life, and it would improve once we ironed out our difficulties. My resolve strengthened. I would get him reunited with his family. I would take care of him when he was sick. I would provide him with my family and new friends. I would get him to change his spending habits, to become financially responsible. If anybody could do it, it would be me. Yes, me. I could fix anything. I just had to put my mind to it.
    For the second time in my life, sitting on that living room step, I made a major decision. Unlike the first time, I wasn’t feeling trapped, defiant, aching for something more. I was making a happy decision, positive, and invigorating. I felt in control of my future. I was charting a new course for my life’s journey. We had been together for more than a year, and I knew all I needed to know about him. I looked into John’s blue eyes.
    “Yes, I will marry you, John. I can’t think of anything better than being the admiral’s wife.”
     
     
    It had been a fun day, exhausting but exhilarating. The barbecue and swim party had turned out well. The weather was sunny and warm, and the financial clouds had dissipated for the time being. The last of our guests, including Pam and George, straggled to the door.
    “Thanks for the great party,” Pam said as she hugged me. “I’ll call you tomorrow to make the list for your bridal shower.”
    “Pam’s such a good friend, isn’t she?” John remarked as he closed the door.
    “Yes, friends like Pam are few and far between. George, too. I’m glad they found each other. Just like we did.”
    I started picking up party remnants.
    “Let’s not do this now,” John said as he walked into the kitchen with another load of dirty glasses. “Let’s go relax in the hot tub.”
    “What a delicious proposal,” I said. “Last one in gets to finish the cleanup.” We both laughed.
    “I’ll pour us some champagne,” John called as I went to get dry beach towels.
    The warm, circulating water relaxed my aching muscles. I laid my head back and closed my eyes. “This is the life,” I drawled. “There’s nothing like a redwood hot tub to help one communicate with nature.”
    We both sat in silence in the therapeutic waters, sipping our champagne, each caught up in our own thoughts. Finally, John broke the silence. “Glad we had the party?”
    I opened my eyes and looked at him. “Yes. You always seem to know the right thing to do.” He looked so relaxed, so happy. This seemed like the perfect time to bring up something that had been bothering me.
    “John, have you told your family yet that we’re getting married?”
    He