Tara Taylor Quinn - Husband by Choice

Renee wouldn’t be talking to her if she didn’t need to do so. And sometimes, worse than having to tell your story when you didn’t want to, was having someone tell you to stop when you did. “Brian’s ex-wife, at the time of the divorce, had claimed that he was too much like his father. Brian said she was crazy, that she was just trying to make his life miserable, to make him pay, because he couldn’t put up with her lying anymore. He’d caught her with another man. We believed him at the time. I knew my son. He’s the assistant pastor of our church....”

Renee stopped and her chin trembled. So did her lips. But her eyes didn’t waver as she looked at Jenna and continued, as softly as before, “The first time he raised a hand to me, I died a bit inside.”

A mother shouldn’t ever have to face such an atrocity. No woman should ever have to face abuse period, most particularly from a trusted loved one, but from your own child? From the human that you grew and bore and raised with unconditional love? Your own flesh and blood?

In the moment, Jenna felt incredibly lucky.

“You’re here because Brian’s been abusing you?”

“That’s right. It’s been... I’ve been here for six weeks, and really, I should be ready to go, but....”

“Are they pressuring you to move on?” Most places had to. With money constraints and regulations that didn’t allow them to house residents long-term; shelters could only do so much.

“No! They don’t do that here. Not unless you aren’t trying to help yourself. But even then, they help find alternate housing. The Stand isn’t funded principally with government money. There’s some, but it’s primarily funded by investments and private donations and a lot of the work is done by volunteers, so they aren’t as tied to generic regulations as most places.”

“So you can stay until you’re ready to go....”

She nodded. “I just... He’s still a pastor at the church where he grew up. At the church where his father and I grew up. I’m just... I...” She glanced at Jenna’s computer screen.

“I was standing behind you for a bit before I called attention to myself. I... You were shaking and seemed upset, but you were engrossed and I... The article you were reading... I...”

Understanding dawned. She’d been reading about the abuser who used religion to keep his victim under his control. “You want to help your son.”

With tears in her eyes, Renee nodded.

“You realize you can’t help him if he’s not willing to help himself.”

“Are you telling yourself the same thing?”

“I’m... My situation is different.” She couldn’t let the other woman assume...she couldn’t be responsible for setting an erroneous example. She was willing to die in this quest. She couldn’t be responsible for another woman doing so. “I’m not trying to help anyone else.” The words finally came to her. “I’m trying to help myself by gaining an understanding of...the other side.”

Renee studied her for a long minute. And then, standing, she nodded.

“Please.” Jenna reached out to her and was surprised when Renee took hold of her hand. “I’ll... We can study together, if you like. We can learn together. I just...promise me one thing....”

“What’s that?”

“That you won’t put yourself in a position that will allow your son to hurt you again.”

“I can promise you that I won’t have false hopes where he, or my ability to help him, is concerned. But he’s my only child, Jenna. I can’t promise never to be alone with him again.”

It wasn’t what she’d asked. But she understood that it was all the other woman could give.

And that made it enough.

For now.

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