Chapter 7

Jenny cradled the cat carrier as they rode down the highway.  The kitten howled in protest.  

“Is she fixed?”   Jeff nodded.  "I called Mom while you were in the bathroom."   

“He had to work late a couple nights so he had Mom watch her ‘till she healed up.”   Jenny nodded.  “Do you want to get something to eat?  We can get some drive-through.”  

Jenny pushed her hair back out of her eyes, and looked at the carrier.  She certainly couldn’t cook, not with Charlie so sick.  “Yeah, why not?”  They discussed food preferences.  

“It’s a great little restaurant, right near the house, next to a Vietnamese noodle shop.  God, I love Houston.  We have such a wonderful diversity!”  

He nodded.  “Small towns are great for a lot of people, but I like my choices.”   He gave her a searching look.  “Still riding the bus, right?  I saw the report.”  

Jenny flinched.  “Report?”  They pulled up in front of the restaurant.  

He swallowed.  “Um.  Mom and Dad were worried about you, so they hired someone.  Do you really hand out Bibles on the corner?  He had photos.”  Jenny nodded.  “You know Dad’s a pharmacist.  I’ve never seen him so angry - when he found out what Paul had done to you.  No wonder you left.  Why didn’t you get a divorce?”  

Jenny brushed her hair back, then shifted the cat carrier and undid her ponytail.  “I prayed about it, and I felt as though God were telling me to treat him as the unbelieving spouse in 1 Corinthians 7 ‘Let the unbelieving spouse depart, divorce for adultery.’  He didn’t cheat on me, that I know about... if he wants a divorce he can get it.  I don’t hate him - it’s just sad.  Did you know he sends me money?”   She unfastened the elastic and released her ponytail, as he nodded.   

“Clearly, we have to talk at some point but I don’t hate him; and in his own way he’s always tried to take care of me.  Your parents are great.  I loved the cab card.”  

He grinned.  “That was my idea.  Remember when we had the flooding?  Mom was worried about you on the bus, and I wished we could call you a cab.  Dad did a little poking and found the gift cards online.”   Someone waved at them from inside the restaurant.  “I think it’s ready.”  

Chapter 6

Jenny braced herself as she got out of the sports car.  Out of habit, she shouldered her backpack.  She never went anywhere without it.  

She took slow, deep, breaths as she approached Charlie's door.  Number 121.  Instead of a mansion, Charlie lived in a very practical, all-bills-paid apartment complex.  She figured he paid less for housing than she did!

Of course, she thought idly, as she located the key, he did send support checks.  Those had come as a shock, arriving a few months after she'd moved out.  He must have hired an investigator, who found her in that hellhole apartment.

She'd been able to use the money to rent her home until she'd saved enough for a down payment.  So, in a sense, Charlie had helped buy her house.  She took another deep breath as she put a key in the lock.  She could hear crying, in the apartment.

As she swung open the door, a black fur ball launched at her ankles.  "Yow!  Yow!  Yow!"  What?

She leaned down to examine the kitten.  The poor thing only had one eye, but the other one, bright green like Princess', gazed at her eagerly.  The cat turned around, rubbing her ankles.  It was female.

"Hello, sweetie"  Jenny absently stroked the kitten as she searched the apartment.  Two bedrooms.  One, an office, with a treadmill perched in the corner.  Plain white walls and beige carpeting.  She searched the other bedroom.  A navy blue bedspread, clearly purchased at a discount store, light blue pillows and sheets, cheap laminate dresser.  The dresser looked awfully familiar.  She opened a drawer, spotting the sports team sticker.

It was the first piece of furniture they'd bought, at a thrift store, after their wedding.  She wondered why he'd kept it.  She'd left it in the storage unit when she'd taken her things, and figured it was destined for the dump.

She turned again, surveying the room.  No baby.  Where was the baby?  Meow!

Wait a minute... Jenny looked at the cat again, rubbing against her feet.  The cat wore a hot pink collar with tags.  Jenny picked her up.

Baby Girl


Charlie's "Baby Girl", was a cat!

"Come on, Baby Girl" Jenny cooed "Let's get you some din din."

Chapter 5

Charlie had a what?  Jenny gaped at her brother in law as he repeated his statement.  "Paul asked me to go check on his baby girl."  Oh, heavens.  Charlie had cheated.

Jenny sat down, abruptly.  "I had no idea".  She focused on taking slow, deep, breaths.  "How old is she?"

"I don't know" Jeff ran his hand through his close-cropped hair in frustration.  "I gave him the shot, and as he was falling asleep he asked you to help his baby girl.  She's at his place.  Then he went out."  He looked at her, his dark eyes full of apology.  "I'm so sorry."

Jenny hissed through her teeth.   "How could he leave a baby alone?  That's inhuman!"  She thought back to the neglect she'd suffered, before her biological mother had lost custody.  "I don't care what he did, I need to go see her."  She looked around her home, frantic.  "My house isn't baby-proof.  What am I going to do with her?"

Paul shrugged.  "I guess you could call Child Services.  Our Mom is out of town, or she'd do it.  This is a shock to me, too."  He gestured vaguely.  "If she's little enough, I guess you could leave her in a crib."

Crib.  Diapers.  Formula.  Oh, dear, God.  Deep breaths.  Lord, I need your help, she pleaded.

"Let's go."

Chapter 4

Jenny strode down the road, wondering what she'd find at home.  She'd gone to work and worked a good shift.

The nice thing about a stocking job, she mused, she never had to worry about getting her workout.  They had loaded everything today, in record time.

She turned the corner by the oak tree and paused, as she spotted yet another vehicle in her driveway.  She didn't recognize this one, a sporty red compact.  She pulled at her sweaty t-shirt, wondering what they'd think of her in "work mode", wearing her company polo and slacks, sweaty, with disheveled hair.

Of course they hadn't minded at work, she thought, shifting her re-usable tote bags on her shoulder.  She'd picked up a few things on the way home.  Charlie needed some hydration drinks, when he was up for it, and she was out of cottage cheese.

Jenny correctly figured Charlie would vomit again at the smell of cooking pork chops, her original plan for dinner.  She could steam the greens in the microwave, and eat them with the cottage cheese.  She squinted at the sun.  Although, she thought, her dinner was most people's "lunch".

She straightened her back and strode towards her house.  It was her home, and if whoever it was became ugly or judgmental, they could just leave.  In the meantime, she had a husband, for however long, to tend.

Jenny arrived at the gate as her brother-in-law exited the house.  Jeff.  She didn't know him well, he was much older than Charlie, and off serving in the military during most of her marriage.

"Hello" she greeted him cautiously.  He gazed at her for a moment, his eyes dark.  He grasped the handrail and came down the stairs, limping slightly.  He must have been hurt.

He saw her eyes on him.  "Car wreck" he stated.  "It actually happened here in Houston, after I got out.  It only acts up when it wants to rain."  Jenny nodded.

"You're a good Christian" he continued.  "A lot of women would have run him off if he showed up like that."  He paused and took a breath.  "He asked me to bring him some medication, and move his car up in the driveway.  I hope you don't mind."

Jenny wave her hand, dismissively.  "We're family.  Sorry about the messy house."  Jeff grinned.  "No problem.  If you don't mind I'd like to help with a few things.  I find it very relaxing."  Jenny probed him with her eyes, looking for signs of pity.

He held up his hands.  "Really, it's fun.  And, like you said, we're family."  Jenny nodded slowly.  "We can talk about it."

Jeff came out of the gate, thoughtfully latching it, before he saw her bags.  He turned, reopened it, and reached out his hand for the tote bags.  Jenny stared at him for a moment before she realized his intention, and handed them over.

"I've got eggs in the purple one" she murmured, as they went up the stairs together.  Jeff peeked in the bag.  "What's with the chicken feet?  Are your finances that bad?"  Jenny snickered.

"No, I like to use them for making chicken stock.  About one pound per quart of water makes a delicious broth.  I use the weird little ends of vegetables and all, cook it all up, and freeze or can it for later.   I figure Charlie can use a little broth at some point, too."   They went in the house together and she turned into the kitchen as Jeff put the bags on the counter.  "Go ahead and sit down, I just need to put this up.   You didn't just come to move the car, did you?"

Chapter 3

[sorry it took so long]

Jenny dropped the empty syringe into an empty soda bottle, and screwed the cap tightly.  She sighed as she looked around the small kitchen.  Bright sun shone in the window, highlighting the dirty dishes in the sink.  

“Lord” she sighed.  “If you had to send him to me, couldn’t you have done it when I’m manic?”  She looked in on Charlie, lying in her bed, surrounded by soft pink bedding.  She snickered.  

“Not a sight I ever expected to see, Lord”.  She checked the ice bag, still cold.  The bucket was clean and empty, at least the medication was holding back the nausea.  A black tail hung from the edge of the bed.  Jenny lifted the cover and saw bright green eyes gazing back at her.  Charlie’s hand curled around the cat protectively as she shifted.  

“OK, Princess, you can have him.”  She glanced at Charlie again.  His face, sweaty and pale, the ice bag obscuring his eyes and forehead.  His hair was tangled and damp with sweat.  “Are you awake?”  He snored lightly.    “ I guess not.”  

She left the room, eying the trail of discarded clothes.  Charlie had taken his shirt off the minute he’d gotten inside, so she could give him the shot.  Then he’d vomited on the floor, and fallen down.  She’d had to drag him to the bedroom, peeling off his filthy clothes as helped him down the hall.  

To someone else, though, it probably looked as though something immoral had taken place.  Or was it?  After all, they were still married.  Agh.  Marriage was complicated!  

Jenny mopped up the mess, thanking God for her simple tile floors.  She gathered the clothes, thanking God for the washer and dryer.  Sure, they were old, but they worked.  She sighed as she remembered her first place with Charlie, riding the bus and walking a mile to the laundromat, each way, all kinds of weather, every week.  So glad those days were past!  

Jenny paused as she picked up Charlie’s khakis.  They were filthy... but it felt wrong to empty his pockets.  She flashed back to an advice column: a wife had found condoms in her husband’s pockets, doing laundry.  

She went looking for a plastic bag, and began to empty the pockets.  Wallet.  It looked like the one she’d given him for their fifth wedding anniversary.  Should she open it?  

She paused.  Perhaps, a better question, would she want Charlie going through her purse?  No.  She still had his photos, and some of the love notes he used to put in her lunch after reading that marriage book.  

Jenny held the thick leather in her hand, wondering if he had any of her notes inside.  She set it into the bag and moved on.  Keys.  She examined the key ring.  House key.  Mailbox.  Her house key.  Her mailbox (after all, he was on the deed - so she’d sent him copies of the keys), SUV key, and a few others she didn’t know.  Into the bag.  

She frowned as she encountered loose bills.  A lot of money.  What was Charlie doing?  Into the bag, as wadded as she’d found them.  Receipts.  She didn’t even glance at them.  

She sat down, in shock, as she pulled out his wedding ring.  The real one - the simple gold bands they’d bought when they thought they’d love each other forever.  

What was he doing with that?  

Chapter 2

Five Years Later

Jenny hummed along with the Jesus metal on her headphones as she strode down the street.  Her backpack bounced gently against her back with every step, sweat trickling between her shoulder blades and pooling at the base of her back.  

She pulled at her cotton-t-shirt, trying to get some air.  It’s a good thing Charlie and I split, she thought, I probably smell like an old goat today.  Ah!  She’d reached her turn.  She turned and sighed with relief as she entered the shade of a large oak tree.  She loved to pause here in the summer.  

A mockingbird flew at her head, squawking.  She grinned, “I won’t hurt your babies, Momma!”, and resumed walking.  She paused as she approached her house.  

The simple, frame house, a soft blue, was surrounded by a chainlink fence, covered in a riot of blooming vines and climbing vegetables.  It wasn’t fancy but it was home.  

She didn’t recognize the fancy SUV currently parked at the base of her driveway, but she knew the man vomiting into her marigolds.  “Charlie?”  

He continued retching as she approached him.  Broad back, strong shoulders.  Thick blonde hair.  Freckles.  Yeah, it was Charlie.  He looked awful, pasty white with dark circles under his eyes, the freckles standing in relief.   He spat one last time and tried to stand up, leaning against his car.  

“Migraine” he croaked.  He covered his eyes, blocking the sun, and winced as he looked at her.  “I’m sorry.”  

Jenny sighed.  He was certainly in no condition to drive.  She hadn’t seen him in years, but she needed to know.  “Brother John said you couldn’t take your medication?”  Her voice was sharp, and bitter.  

Charlie barked a laugh.  “No.”  He debated telling her for a moment, and went with the truth.  “I beat him up.  He said,” He paused, “Some bad things after you left and I lost my temper.”  

He reached out to her, putting his hand on her arm.  “You.  Were.  Right.  I am so sorry I exposed you to that awful man.  If you let me in, I’ll even let you inject my medication.”  

Chapter One

Paul smiled as he pulled up in front of his home.  The neatly manicured yard set off the brick nicely, he’d thought.  

His wife hadn’t liked it much, wanted something “more personal”, but he overruled her the way he always did.  After all, he was the husband.  Brother John was clear on his role in the marriage.  

He unlocked the door and entered the living room.  Everything was neat and tidy, the plush oriental carpet setting off the burgundy leather sofa, the photos neatly displayed on the walnut end table...

Wait a minute.  He walked over to the end table and picked up a photo in a cheap plastic frame.  He smiled fondly.  A wedding photo, from Vegas.  

His wife grinned widely, her rented purple wedding gown showcasing her curves, brown hair, and deep green eyes.  Paul grinned at her side, wearing a purple carnation in his rented tux, his thick blonde hair lightly spiked.  

Kids, he thought, as he set it down.  We were kids.  Where was the real wedding photo?    His parents had demanded they take formal wedding photos when they returned home and announced their marriage.  Brother John had liked the “proper” photo.  

He noticed a piece of paper, folded under the photo, along with a set of keys.  He felt alarm rise as he unfolded it.  

Charlie, it began.  She’d called him Charlie ever since they met in daycare.  I miss you.  I’ve loved you my whole life, but you’re not the man I knew.  What?  Of course he’d changed, for the better.  How many times have you thought about Brother John since you came home today?  I bet at least once.  

I wanted to be a good wife for you, I really did.  I went along with the rules.  You made all the decisions.  I didn’t like it, and I felt like you never really listened to me anymore.   You moved me off the bus line so I couldn’t go anywhere on my own.  He’d done that for her safety, Paul thought.  Only criminals and scum rode the bus.  You made me quit my job because I couldn’t get to work anymore.  You kept me at home like a bird in a cage and made me beg for rides.  Had he?  And then you worked so many hours I hated to ask to go anywhere when you did get home.  He refused to feel bad.  He was a good provider.  

I know you don’t really understand that I’m different.  I have brain damage, Charlie, from Fetal Alcohol Syndrome.  I can’t drive, but I can do so many other things.  I may not always know the social rules but I think I’m a loving, good person.  I love God, and God knows I loved you.  

Loved?  Paul sank to the couch, his throat clenching.  I had to give my cat to my parents because you were worried he’d claw the couch.  I never wanted a leather couch.  I wanted something cat-friendly, one that was OK for the cat.  The man I loved wouldn’t have cared about a few claw marks.  Remember that awful plaid couch in our first apartment?  WhenTiger clawed it up, you said it was an improvement.  He grinned.  He had.  Oh, what an awful couch it had been.  

You’d get so frustrated when I couldn’t do “normal” things, and I got tired of explaining.  I am different Charlie.  I thought you knew that.  I do my best, but I can only do so much.   He sighed.  It was an old argument.  

I have bipolar disorder, too.  Your father once told me about a “bad acid trip” he’d had in the hippie days and it sounded an awful lot like my life before medication.  I need that medication to stay alive, Charlie.  Paul’s gut tightened.  He knew what was coming.  

I guess Brother John told you to throw it out.  Did you think I wouldn’t notice?  Did you think I didn’t see this coming?  He kept saying I was addicted.  I have awful side effects, Charlie.  No one would willingly take this stuff, but you don’t care about that.  It’s about you, on a leash, doing whatever John tells you to do.  

He’s not your brother, and he’s not mine.  I’m leaving you because I know you won’t leave him, and I can’t stay with a husband who throws out my medication.  Don’t worry.  I called a cab, and put it on your credit card.  That’s the last you’ll ever spend on me.  

I’ll give you a divorce if you want it.  Otherwise I will proceed as Corinthians directs, and I will pray for you daily.  

The letter drifted, unnoticed, out of Paul’s hands as he put his head in his hands and cried.