Husband by Choice

He couldn’t afford to worry about them worrying....

“I know Meri has a client going in for surgery this week and she’ll want to be around afterward, for as long as the recovery takes.”

“Is that the throat therapy she was talking about?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that little girl needs her,” his mother said. “Just let us know and we’ll put you on the calendar,” she said, easily enough.

His mother, who would be eighty on her next birthday, generally went with the flow. Unless she was worried.

And after her bypass surgery the year before, he didn’t want to worry her at all.

He asked about his father. Watched Caleb eat over half of his hamburger, squeezing the bun between his fingers, and getting mustard on everything he touched.

Meri knew how to get mustard stains out.

And the internet would know, too.

Telling his mother he loved her, sending love to his father, and promising to share their love in return with Caleb and Meri, he rang off, hoping against hope that he’d bought himself another week before he’d have to answer to his mom again.

And that by the time that week had passed, his wife would be home to do the answering for him.

* * *

RENEE WASN’T IN Jenna’s group counseling session. Nor was she in the class Jenna had signed up to take on the basics of business management, in an attempt to appear to be a normal resident. Then again Renee didn’t have a husband with his own medical practice who might benefit from the class.

The older woman didn’t have a child who stuttered and so wasn’t involved in Jenna’s first professional sessions at The Lemonade Stand, either.

And yet, over the next couple of days, Jenna saw as much of Renee as she did anyone else, her housemates included.

Renee sought her out. And maybe she sought the other woman out, too.

“I’m worried about the bruise,” she told her new friend as they sat together at the kitchen table in Renee’s bungalow. Renee had three other women living with her, but they had all gone to a fashion show at the main building on Tuesday evening, leaving Jenna and Renee to have a quiet dinner of salad and iced tea together.

Renee glanced at the expanding mark on her forearm, one that was turning a dark red instead of changing to purple and yellows as it healed, and shrugged. “It’ll heal.”

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“I think it’s more than a bruise,” Jenna continued. It was the first time she’d seen Renee without sleeves, and only then because the bungalow was warm enough that Renee had taken off the cardigan sweater she’d had on that day. “Brian did that to you, didn’t he?”

Renee’s silence was answer enough.

“When?”

The other woman poked her fork around her salad. Jenna suspected then that the bruise wasn’t healing because it was new.

“You saw him on Sunday, didn’t you?” She’d looked for Renee after her stint at the library. And again later that evening when, after her dinner with Latoya and Carly, she’d felt like taking a walk on her own. The other woman hadn’t been on the grounds as far as she was aware.

Dropping her fork in her bowl, Renee laid her arm on the table with obvious care and looked up. “I called him,” she said. “I asked him if we could meet together with the head pastor of our church.”

From what she’d read, when it came to abusers and victims, attending counseling sessions together wasn’t recommended. At least not in the beginning.

“And?”

“He agreed to meet. I told the pastor what had been going on in our home and asked him to help us.”

Jenna held her breath.