Husband by Choice

Problem was, he didn’t know at this point what she thought or whom she trusted.

And then something else occurred to him. By calling in Chantel, who was working on this privately as a personal favor, he’d put her in danger, too.

“I want you off this case,” he said, louder than he’d intended, the words filled with absolute intent. “I will not have you hurt because of me.”

“I’m not on the case, Max,” Chantel said with a soft chuckle that sounded as satisfied as it did amused. “Wayne is handling things in Santa Raquel. And Diane has it in Vegas. I’m just the conduit that sends news your way.”

She was more than that. But she was right, too.

“I have no jurisdiction in either place and no personal knowledge of him. Hurting me would do him no good at all.”

She made sense.

“Okay, you’ve convinced me.”

“Good, because I’m not going anywhere, whether you’re convinced or not.”

He told her he was glad.

And then figured he probably shouldn’t have done so.

But dammit, he’d been a good friend to her for years, including her in his and Jill’s life, lending her money to buy the condo she’d wanted, helping her get a car when she’d totaled hers....

And now he needed a friend.

More than that, Meri needed her. Max was a pediatrician, not a cop. When it came to finding Meri, without Chantel, Max was powerless.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

JENNA WAS THE talk of the Stand over the weekend, and hated every second of the notoriety. By Monday, she was actually eager to leave the place to meet with Yvonne and Olivia, and when she returned, kept her speech therapy appointments and then sought solace in the Garden of Renewal.

Plans were underway for the pool party. It was going to be for adults only. Shelter employee Maddie Bishop, who was six months pregnant, was going to be the unknowing guest of honor. Her husband, Darin, along with his brother, Lynn’s husband, Grant, had volunteered to watch the seventeen underage residents. A group of women were planning snacks and games for the kids to keep them busy and happy.

Jenna meandered through the Garden and smiled at the few women there, but didn’t stop to speak. The Garden was meant to be a peaceful retreat, not an area for socializing.

She’d never spent any time there and on that afternoon she tried to open up and allow the privacy, the towering trees and the beds of glorious, sweet-smelling flowers, to heal even a tiny part of her. But it app

eared she was immune to the salve.

And so she started to pull weeds. Because there were a few, scattered about, and she’d met Grant Bishop and his mentally handicapped brother, Darin, over the weekend and knew that the men had their hands full keeping up with Grant’s landscape design business and yard maintenance at the Stand, as well. She knew only because Darin had told her.

He’d also told her it wasn’t anything his brother, Grant would ever tell anyone.

You had to look hard to find anything on the grounds of The Lemonade Stand that wasn’t immaculate. But when she saw some weeds growing at the base of some of the trees in the thick woods that set the Garden off from the rest of the grounds, she dropped down to pick them.

She left them in piles as she worked, with the plan to come back and gather them in her blouse to carry them up to the trash. She worked quickly. Quietly. Undaunted by the fact that there were easily three or four acres of woods surrounding the Garden.

The earth felt good beneath her hands. Dirt under her trimmed nails. Kept short in deference to the baby she’d tended, the diapers she’d changed.

And for every weed that wanted to play tough, that gave her a hard time, she held a mental victory celebration as she hung tougher and succeeded in pulling it out by its roots.

This was what she was going to do with the memories of Steve. Pull them up by their roots and throw them in the trash.

When she’d rid her life of him.

Didn’t matter if there were acres of memories. Or tough ones to excavate. Didn’t matter if she got it all done in one day, or had to repeat the effort over and over again for the rest of her life.

She could pull them out and throw them away.