Husband by Choice

“Did you know him personally?” he asked, not waiting for Chantel to conduct the interview.

“Yes. For a brief time I was his partner.”

“Why a brief time?” Chantel asked. “Was his behavior inappropriate?”

Diane, who was probably in her late thirties and looked as lithe and hard as a football running back, shook her head. “He was promoted,” she said, arms folded on the table as she leaned toward them. “Back then I was as impressed by him as everyone else was. The man has a mind like a steel trap. Nothing gets away from him. He walks into a room and could walk back in five minutes later and know if anything had moved even an inch. He could pull facts from a year before into a current case and come up with missing pieces before some of us even knew pieces were missing.”

Max leaned back in h

is chair, listening. And growing more desperate by the minute.

* * *

DAY EIGHT.

It’s just after nine and I’ve retired for the night. Not because I’m tired but because I just couldn’t keep up appearances any longer.

I invited Renee to have dinner with us tonight. She’s down to only one roommate and the woman works in the cafeteria, so she’s never home for meals and I didn’t want her to have to cook for herself.

Latoya and Carly liked Renee, too, as I suspected they would. Carly, bless her heart, likes anyone who is kind to her, which could be part of what got her into the situation she was in. Latoya’s a harder nut to crack, but she was the one who took Renee’s plate from her when she was going to carry it to the sink. And filled her tea, too.

I talked to them all about having a pool party next weekend. They liked the idea and we started planning the food and talked about some games we could play. It’s more than a week away and I wonder, will I still be here then? And what of Max and Caleb? Will they be well into learning to live without me?

I have to hope so. As much as the selfish part of me wants to matter more than that to them, I need to know that I’m not hurting them as badly as my own heart is hurting.

The pool party. I was talking about the pool party. It would be an opportunity for all of the women to be in swimsuits in a safe environment. Hopefully, Lila will be pleased. I don’t ever want her to think that I’m just using The Lemonade Stand for my own ends.

Jenna wrote a bit more about the day, cataloguing her activities as though she was talking to a much older Caleb—a young man who would hopefully be reading with an open heart, seeking to understand why his mother had done what she’d done. Seeking the love for him that she was pouring into these pages.

And Max? Would he read them? With another woman by his side, perhaps?

Why do I torture myself with images of Max with another woman? Sometimes I’m afraid that maybe, secretly, I want that for him. I love him so much and it kills me to think of another woman touching him—and worse—him touching her. But wouldn’t that be better for him? I want my love for him to be clean and pure and that means I have to always have his best interests at heart and what if that’s not me?

Here, at The Lemonade Stand, I’m coming face-to-face with myself. Not part of my plan, but I can’t seem to help it. The truth is I’m not pure and clean. I’m dirtied by a choice I made so long ago. The choice to marry Steve Smith. Max and Caleb, they’re too...precious to me...too...clean...to be sprayed with Steve’s mud.

Her arm cramped, but she wasn’t at all tired. Her time alone that day, her talk with Lila at the pool, had filled her with wild energy as she contemplated what lay ahead. She was going to do this. She was really going to take Steve on. By herself. She was either going to find a way to convince him he no longer wanted her, or that it was in his best interests to let her go, or she was going to die trying. Because she wouldn’t live with him again. And he’d never let her leave again, unless he himself decided to let her go.

Tomorrow I see Yvonne, and sweet little Olivia. I called again today to check on the little one and to confirm tomorrow’s appointment. Olivia is home and was up playing this afternoon. The surgery only took half an hour and she didn’t seem to be in any pain.

Finally something went right for those two. Lord knows they deserve it.

And while I’m out, I know what I can do to convince Max that I left him....

She wasn’t going to think about that now. She knew what to do and she’d do it. She didn’t have to dwell on it.

Her task was to dwell on Steve. To prepare herself.

I know now what it means to be alone when you are with other people. I am on this journey completely alone. I have no other voices giving me opinions or helping me plan the task ahead of me.

As I read more, as I go back in my mind to when I was with Steve, immerse myself in everything I know about him—good and bad—I feel as though I am becoming Steve.

I can see him so much more clearly, now. And as I read, I can feel him, too. I never could before. I couldn’t understand how he could be so incredibly good at his job, so committed to catching the bad guys, so protective of the innocent, and then....

Well there are some things it won’t pay to relive. I know that pain well enough.

And I know, just somehow know, that right now Steve is cursing me for having escaped him. He waited a long time for this reunion. So much longer than the other times he returned to claim me.

And this time his victory was going to be the sweetest of all because he was taking me away from a life I truly loved. A full, beautiful, healthy life.