Husband by Choice

“Were you conscious? Do you remember anything?” Renee’s tone held more compassion than Jenna could take at the moment.

“Unfortunately, I remember it like it was yesterday,” she said. Because they weren’t talking about Steve. And she wasn’t having to think about Chantel and Max and Caleb. About how she’d feel if she lost her men in a car accident when she hadn’t even told them goodbye....

“I used to have nightmares,” she said. “But I don’t much anymore.” Not one since she’d climbed into bed with Max Bennet. Until last week, when she’d climbed out again.

“We were hit by a garbage truck. On the driver’s side. The guy had fallen asleep at the wheel.” She was the only one who’d been thrown free. She’d been hurt, but hadn’t felt any pain. She’d jumped up, run back to the car, pulling at the mangled steel. She could see her little brother’s hand. Her mother’s hair. Part of her father’s shirt. And couldn’t get to any of them.

And if she’d let Chad sit where he wanted to....

“I was told they were killed on impact.”

That had been the only blessing she’d carried away from that day. The fact that her family hadn’t suffered. Or even known that something horrible had happened.

But they must have known that she didn’t go with them.

“Did you have relatives?”

“A grandfather who wasn’t in good health. An aunt with six kids who fought with my dad more than she was nice to him.”

“Who did you go to?”

“I went into foster care. Neither of them had the financial means to care for me.”

She’d known, even back then, that neither of them had wanted to take her in. Her grandfather, she understood. He’d died within a year of the accident. But had come to see her every single week until he got too sick. And then he’d arranged for her to travel to see him.

“Oh, my...I’m so sorry, Jenna. Such a little girl, too young....”

Renee had tears in her eyes.

Jenna shook her head. “No, really, it was a long time ago,” she said, wishing she hadn’t said so much.

She never said that much.

Not even to Max. It served no purpose. Except to make people feel sorry for her.

She folded. And stacked. And moved another load from the washer to the dryer.

“I imagine, being the only one left behind, would be a hell all in itself. Even apart from losing your loved ones.”

She’d had counseling. “I had things left to do here.”

Renee’s arm slid around her waist and, surprised at the contact, Jenna jumped back and dropped her towel.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” the other woman said. “But this isn’t just another room and another conversation, Jenna. I’ve trusted you with my deepest pain. And you understood, without judging. It was the greatest gift anyone has given me.

“And I’m thinking maybe you need a gift, too. Maybe you need someone to understand that someplace inside you you’re still that little girl who’s had to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders all alone.”

“No.” She shook her head. Picked up a towel. “I’m fine, really.”

“There was a young woman at church once who was having a hard time staying out of trouble. Brian counseled her in our home and I couldn’t help overhearing a few things through the door. She and her twin sister had been out in a storm and a tree had been struck by lightning and fallen. The twin sister was struck in the back and was paralyzed. The girl blamed herself. And spent the next several years involving herself in every destructive behavior she could think of, punishing herself....”

“Luckily, I got counseling.”

“You don’t think denying yourself the right to ask for what you want, to demand what you need, is destructive?”

Renee didn’t know that that was exactly what Jenna was doing. She was demanding her right to be done with Steve, once and for all.

“You blame yourself, don’t you? For not dying with them?”