Devotion: For Love or Honor, page 11
This is going to be the two longest months of my life waiting until after graduation before I can even think about being with her the way I want. Also, there is the small problem of her husband, and she has not hinted to what she is doing on that subject. Unless Miss Hargreaves told her, Jenny doesn’t know that I realize there is a problem.
“Spring break is next week, so tomorrow I will take it easy then Monday I will spend probably six hours editing all of the photos and making the memory sticks for the bride. Then two more days to take the best images and creating the individual books she ordered.”
“A lot of work.”
“It is but so worth it when you see the final product and the bride and groom all fresh from their honeymoon; they get so excited.”
“But that isn’t all you are going to do on your spring break off right? Something fun?” She laughs, a giggle almost. Here we are standing in the dark parking lot as the last of the wedding guests are leaving, well most of the drunk ones are, and I am trying to hint to find out if I have any chance of spending any time with her for the next week. After having all these hours together not in school, I can’t imagine an entire week without seeing Jenny.
“I am planning on hiking the state park on Wednesday and another one on Thursday for images for my stock photo business.” I raise my eyebrows, a question before the question. She asks before I manage to drop a hint. “Would you like to come with me, and we can work on your entry images?” Yes, Yes, Fuck, yes. I want to yell, pulling her into my arms and swing her around when I simply announce.
“I would love too.”
“Okay. I. Let’s go home. It’s late. I will text you tomorrow, and we can set up a time to work on the images on Monday if you are available.” I nod, my week is getting better by the minute. “It’s a plan. Tuesday morning you can help with the layout of the books then Wednesday and Thursday we hike. Make sure you can keep up.” She giggles, securing her seat belt as I close her door for her. Oh, I will keep up. I start my Jeep following her all of the way home until she turns into her drive and for the first time I allowed myself to wonder how I will ever be able to compete if she walks away from her husband and the house I consider a mansion. What will I ever be able to offer her?
Chapter 10
Jenny
I pull into the garage the house dark, cold, and empty. I watched Ryan’s lights disappear into the darkness as he drives away after making sure I made it home safely. I wish I could invite him in even for a minute until I am ready to face the night alone, but I do not dare tempt him or myself. I unload my camera equipment taking it to my small office. The two guest rooms, one was for the baby that we will never have, and the other is for my husband’s many party guests; the second den he had to have upstairs is all his. I leave my equipment for the morning ready for the shower, washing away the day while forbidden thoughts of Ryan linger in my mind; slipping into bed, sleep overtaking my exhausted body, unable to forge the plan for my future.
A loud noise pulls me from my sweet dreams, slamming doors, and drawers luring me awake. “What’s up?” I mumble out. I hear Martin’s cryptic laugh coming from the closet, yelling.
“You accuse me of being the drunk?” That got my attention I sit up straight wincing when I see the time, barely eight in the morning, forcing myself to get out from under the warm comforter to stand on unsteady legs.
“I will have you know I worked more than twelve hours yesterday on my feet, getting home after one, and to bed around two. So, no, I did not drink, and what are you doing?” He presents himself out of the closet, bag in hand, closer than I would have liked.
“I am packing for the trip.”
“What trip?” I ask as I lift my arms over my head, with the attempt to stretch the stiffness from the back of my neck.
“Florida.” Not understanding he clarifies. “Florida fishing trip.”
“Did I know about this? When are you leaving?”
“No, you didn’t know about it because you were not at the party yesterday. And you weren’t invited. I guess you can find something else to do on your spring break.”
Fighting a massive headache while I listen to my husband, not making much sense except Florida, spring break, him out-of-town, me here and I want to jump up and do a happy dance on the way towards the bathroom. My plan to empty my screaming bladder sidelined with the exciting tidbit of information. The major part of my problem now solved with one new fact. But I know even in my drunken-lack-of-sleep state that if I show that I want him to leave without me, he will insist I go.
“Wait a minute. You planned a trip to Florida to fish without me knowing full well I am off work for an entire week?” Now I am furious, hands on the hips, furious. Not that I want to go. Hell, I wouldn’t want to go to Hawaii with this asshole, and I really want to go to Hawaii. Who does that? What husband does this?
“Yes. You were being a little bitch that you are and refused to go to the Radcliff’s party, and Dad decided he was taking the whole family down to Florida for the week. You snooze you lose, bitch.”
“I was working.” I hate him and his family.
“Well, maybe by the time I get back, you will decide to be a good little wife like my brother’s wives and make me some babies. If you worried more about me instead of your students and your business, then you would be knocked up and going to Florida.” I realize my mistake much too late, his proximity much to close, making me an easy target, with my fumbled brain and full bladder. I did not think to keep myself in an open, safe area. I allowed myself to become blocked in when I left the safety of the end of the bed with Martin between me and the closed bathroom door to my right, the heavy dresser behind me and the closet door to my left. His anger apparent, and his target me, anything to place the blame away from himself. I say nothing, not wanting to provoke the situation. “What? You want to say something, don’t you?” I shake my head, hastily. “Yea, you do. It is on the tip of your tongue to give me a smart-ass reply.” He steps closer until I can smell the sour remnants of cigars and whiskey from his night. “See where I fucked up is, I never broke you in the way my brothers did their wives. But all that is going to change. No more me being nice.” I know the minute the words are out of my mouth I screwed up.
“Broke me in you fucker? I am your wife.” I hiss. “Not a trained animal. You don’t treat people you promise to love this way.” I knew I should have kept quiet. Unable to resist defending what is right and good.
“I can treat you any way I want. That is your punishment for this big fancy house and me sharing my money with you, which that is also stopping. You will see.”
“Stop threatening me,” I growled between clenched teeth. Having had enough, I will not go quietly into the land of the Stephenson women.
“Yea, make me.” I swallow hard. Shit. “Oh, you have nothing else to say. Well, it sounds like you can stay in this house all alone while I am gone.” He picks up his two bags turning towards the door.
“One day people in this town will see you and your family for what you truly are. Arrogant assholes.” He drops those bags, storming back the short distance until I am once again much too close. His fist lifts aiming for my face, I duck as he hits the edge of the wall causing me to dart towards the bathroom door, not fast enough, as his hands grip my hair yanking me back, throwing me towards the floor, my head and shoulder hitting the side of the heavy dresser as I land.
“Well, you, stupid bitch. Try proving any of this shit about my family and I will bury you. You hear me?” Martin picks up his bags once again, the noise of his departure echoing through the empty house.
I listen for the front door to open, forcing my body to rise from the awkward position on the floor. Attempting to stand, the room swirls around me, the urge to regurgitate all that I consumed the night before as I move with slow, measured steps. Reaching the nightstand where my phone buzzes within seconds of him leaving, through blurry eyes, I read a text message from Katelyn the one sister-in-law I do like, and she loves me.
Katelyn: This is fucked up. I can't believe you were not invited to Florida because you can’t get pregnant. I stare in disbelief. I use one finger to type a response, the left side of my body throbbing with pain from the fall.
Me: Hey Kate I don’t want you to get into any trouble, but can you text me before Martin leaves Florida to return home. Give me some notice?
Katelyn: Sure, no problem. I wish I could stay home with you.
I send a return text as I lie back onto the bed, wondering now what I do now as pain radiates through my body. Before I allow myself to pass out, I text my best friend.
Me: SOS Help now. Need to move out asap.
#
Ryan
I check my phone, several times during my chores, cleaning my Jeep, and doing the laundry, waiting for Jenny’s text telling me when and where to meet her Monday morning. I was holding out hope that I would somehow get to see her today, but now that it is after ten and no word, I am starting to feel the strain of not knowing. I take a shower then making me a sandwich trying to think of what else to do for the day when my phone rings. Jenny’s name flashes across the screen. Not Mrs. Stephenson but Jenny.
“Hello.”
“Ryan?”
“Yes.”
“This is Merrilee Hargreaves. Jenny’s friend.”
“Is she okay?” Guided by fear, forcing me to ask.
“Yes, she will be okay. But we need your help. Jenny said you followed her home last night. Do you remember how to get here?”
“Yes.”
“How fast can you get over here?”
“On my way. Fifteen minutes.”
Shit. I have no idea what I am walking into, throwing on a pair of blue jeans, t-shirt, and tennis shoes, grabbing a bottle of water yelling, letting my dad know I am on the way with no idea when I can return home.
Parking behind the candy apple red sports car, doors opened, the same as the large SUV I recognize Jenny’s with seats laid down and boxes stacked neatly. With a racing heart, I walk through the garage until I am standing in front of the opened kitchen door.
“Jenny? Miss Hargreaves?” I see Miss Hargreaves walking towards me.
“Thanks for coming. Sorry if I scared you. Today call me Merrilee okay.” I nod.
“Where’s Jenny?”
“Upstairs. Look, before you go up there, I need to tell you what happened.” I swallow hard, fear coursing through my veins. “Martin came back this morning. He was packing for a trip. Jenny stepped too close to him. She was sleepy after the long day and not thinking clearly.” I nod, the familiar burn of tears looming, waiting for the news. “He went to hit her, and she moved away. It made him angry, and he shoved her into the dresser.” I run my hand over my face. Shit. I was supposed to protect her. “Ryan, there is nothing you could have done. She knew she needed to leave. She was waiting.”
“For what? Why didn’t she leave before now?”
“Because she feared he would kill her and anyone who helped her if she attempted to leave. She planned on packing the minute he said he was leaving town, he just hurt her first.” I swallow the massive lump sitting in my throat, while a need to protect another human being, unlike any feeling I have ever experienced. “She needs our help. We need to get her out of the house as soon as we can. I can’t do it by myself, and she can’t lift.”
“Don’t worry. I am here.”
“Thank you.”
I take the stair two at a time, following the sound of packing. I walk into a bedroom that equals the size of my dad’s house, shaking my head, seeing my girl sitting on the floor, putting things into boxes with one hand. Some of the boxes appear to be secured and ready to go.
“Jen. Hey. What can I do?” She looks up her eyes, filled as big fat teardrops roll down her cheek. I sit my large frame down right behind her, pulling her into my lap. “Ssh. Let me help what do you need me to do?” She sobs against my chest soaking a spot on the gray t-shirt. Her face is pale, void of any color, make-up, or life. My eyes roam over every inch of exposed skin checking for bruises without making it obvious. My finger touches her shoulder; she winces as her eyes meet mine. “Jen, how is your shoulder? You need to go to the hospital.” Shaking her head in denial. I plead. “Jenny.”
“Ryan. It’s a bruise and will hurt like hell for a few days, but I can move it.”
“What else hurts?”
“Everything.” The loose-fitting t-shirt slips down, revealing her bare shoulder, allowing me a glimpse of the beginning of streaks of purple forming where no doubt will grow worse through-out the day.
“You need an ice pack on that shoulder.”
“Merrilee just put it back in the freezer. I couldn’t stand the cold any longer.” The sounds of defeat in her voice, crack open the split of pain I feel deep within.
I hear Merrilee take another box from the room, not mentioning the girl in my lap nor my arms holding her close. Breaking the connection, I ask. “What do you need me to pack?” She pushes off my lap, walking towards a small room, not much larger than a closet.
“All my photography equipment and that table. These boxes will be quite heavy.”
“I can handle anything heavy.” She leaves me to return to the task I interrupted. I start packing up, emptying her cabinets, grabbing the light table and bins of her supplies. -All her cases filled with gear into my Jeep to fill the backseat and the passenger side. I make a trip after trip passing Merrilee on the stairs, saying little beyond her mouthed thank-you. Merrilee’s sports car is now filled to the top with clothes, shoes, and bags with all her stuff from the drawers she emptied that I never got to see.
I doubt I could handle knowing she wears pink thongs or lacy panties it would not help my already rough situation when it came to what we have brewing. Jenny uses her right hand to pull dishes from one of the cabinets and has me wrapping them in sheets of brown paper, securing them in boxes. I manage to get them to fit in her passenger seat. Inquiring about any furniture, Merrilee insists Jenny wants nothing but what she brought into the marriage. I walk through the house, photos of them together, Jenny and her husband she leaves every single one of them, and yet I packed an entire box of photos she has taken from her adventures.
I back out of the driveway waiting in line behind Jenny as she follows the sports car to Merrilee's condo. I feel strange, and I am not sure I like the feeling, especially after thinking I would be happier once we were through with our obstacles. I never anticipated the risk accompanying the necessary changes. I don't feel relieved. If anything, seeing her pain today even though this is a step towards the future I want, I never wanted her hurt in the process.
#
Jenny
I laid on the side of the bed after Martin left trying to stay awake, talking myself down off the proverbial ledge of life. The new reality of understanding the events of a life I never dreamed I would live. As I willed the erratic pounding of my heart to calm, I rise to test each part of my body reconfirming the decision to keep the embarrassing incident to myself. My breaths, along with the throbbing pain, had eased by the time my best friend entered the room.
I know Merrilee does not understand the reasoning behind my denial for medical attention or to notify law enforcement, her grim expression says it all. We got started, immediately after her arrival armed with a massive stack of boxes, except I wasn’t getting very far sitting on the floor, in more pain than I was willing to admit and lost in memories. That was until I felt Ryan’s strong arms around me, asking me to show him where we needed his help. It was his strength, his words, his caring, and understanding about my pain, physical and mental that brought me back.
With the three of us, packing the daunting task of ending this life, proceeded at a clipped pace. I admit Ryan more than pulled his weight, filling his car up to the brim with everything from my studio, including my art table he strapped down on the top. Ryan made double the trips as Merrilee filling the sports car up with clothing. Merrilee and I drew the line by throwing all my intimate wear into a few carry bags and boxes, keeping them from Ryan’s sight. I left the expensive lingerie that I had purchased at one time for Martin, where it remains in the drawer.
Ryan never once complained about the number of shoes I had, even though I believe he was keeping count. But the most significant thing he could have ever had done was the gentle care he took with my grandmother’s china as he packed and loaded with care into the front seat of my car.
We find parking places next to Merrilee's condo, emptying Ryan’s Jeep first with all my equipment. I can stand to lose everything else but this and well my grandmother’s china. I pass him on the sidewalk we don’t speak, other for him to limit the weight I carry. His concern endearing as he continues to check on my progress. I don’t know what to say. In a short time, we have gone from teacher and student to assistant and boss to friend and hinging on something much, much more. If I am the adult I need to be and him in the right mind then I need to cut him loose now, and he needs to walk, no not walk he needs to freaking run far away.
The last box is upstairs, and I am settling into Merrilee’s second bedroom. I stopped apologizing fifteen minutes before when she threatened to cut me whatever the hell that means. Ryan laughed, and now they are sitting at her dining room table, and she is giving him a beer, and I believe that makes this situation so much worse. Ryan set-up my worktable in the corner of my new room; my new roommate doesn’t have much furniture in here except a bed and nightstands. The closet is a decent size, and my clothes fit, the rest I stack on the floor until I can buy some bins with drawers, not easy to do with one hand. I do have my own bathroom, which will make work mornings easier.
