Husband by Choice

And left the rest.

“You do a lot of weeding in your past life?”

“Nope.” Not until she’d moved in with Max. And even then, she did more spraying and hiring of landscapers than actual weeding.

“I grew up pulling weeds in my mama’s garden,” Renee continued, walking easily beside her.

And strangely, as they talked, Jenna didn’t mind the other woman’s presence. In spite of the fact that she’d gone to the Garden looking for escape.

* * *

“WHEN MY BRIAN was little he lisped....” Renee was holding one end of a sheet and Jenna the other. They were alone in the laundry room Monday night. Renee had signed up to do TLS laundry once a week, which included anything used in any common areas, including physical therapy and the cafeteria. Towels mostly.

Jenna had offered to help. It gave her a chance to get her own few things washed. And to keep busy.

She’d been so tempted to go back by Max’s house that morning after she’d seen Olivia. The bus stop was only one past hers. She’d thought about it the whole way. And then watched out the window as the familiar area sped past.

Movement cured all ails. Or it had to this point in her life.

Was there a cure for seeing the man you loved with another woman?

“The kids at school teased him and my instinct was to coddle him, to fight his battles for him. Gary insisted that we make him tough it out and go to school and stand up to the bullies....”

They came together and Jenna took the sheet, finishing up the last fold and placing it on the large table that currently held over a hundred towels all washed and neatly folded, while Renee picked up another sheet, found the ends and handed two to her.

“I wish I’d stood up to Gary then,” Renee continued. “Brian was such a sensitive creature. We should never have forced him to go against his nature....”

Renee needed to understand her abuser. And she was the mother bear, protecting her young at the same time.

An untenable position.

Far worse than having an abusive husband.

Far, far worse than knowing that your husband would have someone to help him bear the pain you’d caused.

“My little brother lisped,” Jenna said, jumping at the first thought that came to her brain that wasn’t about Steve, or Max and Chantel. The sound of the machines running, tubs filling, the cottony spring scent of softening sheets, even the warmth generated from the dryers were nice. Steady.

Familiar.

Renee glanced at her as though she was waiting for more. There wasn’t any more. Chad had had a lisp.

“That’s partially why I became a speech pathologist,” she said. Everyone at the Stand knew she was one. Nothing to hi

de there.

“Did he have troubles at school?” Renee asked.

“Yeah. I remember him coming home from kindergarten with a fat lip. He wasn’t crying at all. But when Mom made him tell her why he’d gotten into a fight, and he’d had to admit the kids said he talked like a baby, he started to bawl. And I remember the woman who came to our house a lot after that, doing mouth and tongue exercises with him. By second grade the lisp was gone. I kind of missed it. It was cute.”

“The last thing boys in school want to be is cute.”

Caleb was cute. And in one of his last pictures, looked just like a picture she had of Chad, too.

Would he also have his uncle’s lisp when he fully started talking?

“I didn’t know you have a brother. You’ve never mentioned family.”

“Yeah.”