Aweek later, Brittany found herself in Spenser Thomas’ kitchen, loading the dishwasher after cooking a meal of salad, hamburger soup and homemade biscuits for Spenser and the kids. When she’d called to thank Spenser for the wedding present Spenser had sounded overwhelmed, so Brittany had asked if she could visit while Trey and Mitchell were on duty.
Spenser agreed but sounded as if she didn’t care one way or the other. Undeterred, Brittany went in Trey’s truck, which he left with her so she wouldn’t be stuck in the house. Once she arrived, Spenser hadn’t opened the door. Her eight-year-old daughter had. The house was in as appalling condition as Spenser was. Brittany found her friend sitting at the kitchen table in tears, her hair in snarls and tangles.
The two oldest girls seemed to be in charge of everything, including the new baby. He was crying as much as his mother. The five-year-old boy and three-year-old girl were doused in Kool-Aid and a television blasted from the den.
Assessing the situation, Brittany took charge, prioritizing. She’d turned off the TV, achieving a small measure of peace as soon as she did so. Sending the older girls off to start the shower for their mother, she’d taken the baby and fed him. As Spenser showered, Brittany had directed Frances—the eight-year-old—to dig out clean nightclothes for her mother and her siblings. When they were all clean and the baby asleep, Brittany cooked a hot meal then sent everyone off to bed. Including Spenser. Especially Spenser.
What in the world was Mitchell thinking leaving her alone in such a state?
Brittany turned the knob on the dishwater to pots and pans, then dropped into the chair at kitchen table, exhausted. She was ready to sleep, but fear of leaving Spenser and the kids alone prevented her departure.
Glancing around, Brittany took in her surroundings in the transitional kitchen, imagining she and Trey had their own home. She liked the homey feel of the Thomas household. If her pipedream of spending all her tomorrows with Trey ever came true, she might borrow some of Spenser’s ideas. The barn wood ceiling grabbed attention away from the central island. Alphabet magnets held up crayon drawings on the black refrigerator, melting Brittany’s heart at the thought that one day she’d display her child’s art in a similar way. Framed décor hung on the walls of the kitchen and dining room. A wine diva print. A plaque that said, “Laughter is the best medicine; Wine is my best friend”. Another about the virtues of a good cook and mom’s rules. Two more about how to love a child and the secrets of a happy home.
A three-tiered, turnstile spice rack sat on the counter next to the stove. Another counter held the coffee maker with canisters resembling lemons nearby. The barn wood continued on into the dining room. Together the two rooms were rustic, warm and welcoming.
Each reflected Spenser and Mitchell and the life they’d built together.
Chin in hand, Brittany closed her eyes, wondering what had happened to send Spenser into such a downward spiral. Wondering too if she should worry the same fate awaited her and Trey. The past week as a newlywed had been wonderful. She giggled. They’d spent most of his off hours in bed and he’d stopped in last night while he was on duty for a quickie. She covered her face with her hands, her cheeks burning at the things Trey was teaching her to do in bed. Fears and feelings filled her journal and—
“Brittany?”
Yawning and raising her head, she looked at Spenser, who stood on the other side of the island. Dark circles ringed her friend’s blue eyes. Though she’d showered, her hair remained in snarls.
“You should be in bed,” Brittany said around another yawn.
“So should you.”
“I know but let me get a bite to eat then I will get to bed.” Going to the cabinet, she found the bag of pretzels she’d been craving ever since she’d seen them earlier. After crunching through a few, she held out the bag to Spenser. “Mind if I crash here?”
Spenser took two pretzels. “Are you sure you want to? The baby wakes up all during the night.”
“No wonder you’re so tired.”
Hanging her head, Spenser ambled to a stool and sat, stuffing both pretzels in her mouth. “I’ve held him about five or six times since he’s been born,” she confessed around the food. She sniffled, tears sliding down her cheeks.
Brittany rushed to Spenser and hugged her.
“Mitchell wants to send me and the kids to Nebraska.”
Grabbing another handful of pretzels, Brittany sat on the stool next to Spenser’s. “Aren’t your parents there?”
Spenser nodded.
“And you don’t want to go?”
“I-I want to stay with my husband. I want to be able to take my son into my arms and take care of my other children.” She covered her face. “I didn’t want another baby though. Children are so much responsibility and so time-consuming. I’ve been having babies since I was twenty-four. I’m tired.”
Gathering her words, Brittany munched her snack for a few minutes more. Finished, she wiped her hands on her jeans and stood. Whatever she might say would come across as judgmental and she had no place to judge anyone. It was easy for her to think Spenser could’ve stopped having babies whenever she chose by getting on the pill and not letting Mitchell know. “You have a brush anywhere?”
“W-what?” Spenser stared at Brittany, eyes wide. “A brush?”
“We can talk while I try to salvage your hair. If you prefer, I’ll get scissors and destroy yours like I did mine.”
“No thank you. There’s a brush in my bedroom.” Spenser stood and headed out of the kitchen. “Follow me.”
Before reaching the master suite, Spenser checked on the girls and Brittany looked in on the boys. The children were still asleep and Brittany and Spenser continued on to the room with cream-colored Berber carpet and cherry wood furniture. A chaise lounge stood across the room near a bureau covered with items for Mitchell.
“I’ll grab my brush from the bathroom.”
A moment later, Spenser was sitting down on the chaise and Brittany was tackling the first section of Spenser’s tangles.
“Trey added me to his health insurance but it’s going to take thirty days to kick in,” Brittany began, grimacing at what a mess the woman’s blonde hair was. “He wants me to see an OB as soon as possible so he’s going to pay for it out-of-pocket.”
“That sounds like Trey for you,” Spenser said with a hint of a smile then sucked in a breath when Brittany forced the brush through a section of knotted hair. “You already have an OB?”
“No.” She’d sectioned Spenser’s hair into four but Brittany wasn’t making much progress so she decided to take smaller portions. “Can you recommend one?”
“I’ve been with my doctor for years and he’s great. He’s delivered all my children.”
Brittany’s hand paused mid-air. “He?” As many strides as she’d made she wasn’t sure if she could allow a strange man to examine her private area.
You’re being silly. Spenser sounded quite confident in him. The man would look at her for professional purposes.
Clearing her throat, Brittany resumed her task, remembering her journal in the top drawer with her underthings. Her most secret thoughts were there. All except an actual name. She’d spoken Karl’s name often enough during her counseling sessions. Besides, she didn’t know who would run across the book. Now her foresight relieved her. Trey hadn’t once mentioned what happened to her since the day they’d married. He knew about her journal though. And Brittany knew him. Trey might be a cop but he had some street mentality too. He wanted to exact his revenge on the man who’d hurt her and would go to any lengths to do it.
Instead of giving him the opportunity to invade her privacy, she intended to let him read it over the weekend. For all she knew he might’ve already done so.
Spenser cursed, bringing Brittany out of her thoughts.
“I would like hair left on my head!”
“I was raped.” Whatever she’d expected to fall from her mouth, those words were not it. The admission shocked her so much, her mouth fell open and she dropped on the chaise next to Spenser. Maybe she’d made the unexpected announcement because she’d been thinking about her journal. Or maybe because she believed Spenser was going through something awful herself and she wanted to help her friend. Why else would she have responded to Spenser’s annoyance about her hair in such a way?
“What?”
Mimicking Trey, Brittany rubbed her neck then pressed her hand against her belly. “I was raped,” she repeated. “When I’m eligible on the insurance I’m going to continue the counseling I started a few weeks ago. I-I didn’t mean to blurt that out but it’s as good a lead-in as any to what I want to suggest for you—”
“Counseling of my own?” Spenser interrupted in a soft voice.
“We once promised to take each other’s advice about Trey and Mitchell. Mitchell is sending you away because he wants the best for you.”
“How—?”
“Do you think he can concentrate on his job when you’re in your present condition? When you can’t hold your baby?”
“I don’t want to leave.”
“Then stay. But you need help. You seem very depressed. I’ve heard a lot about postpartum depression. You might have that.”
Spenser stiffened. “You think I’m crazy? My doctor said I had mild depression during my pregnancy but I don’t believe that. I’m tired not mental.”
“I think you’re overwhelmed and I think you’re sad and angry and unsure of the reasons why. Knowing how Mitchell feels about you, I bet he’s tried to talk to you and you’ve pushed him away. I don’t know what to say because I’m still in need of help myself. You need someone to help you.”
“You don’t know me well enough to tell me what I need. Furthermore you don’t have the right.” Anger thinning her lips, Spenser narrowed her eyes. Her nostrils flaring, she stood and rushed to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
Brittany winced at the other woman’s anger. Instead of helping as she’d meant to do, she’d destroyed a burgeoning friendship. She’d bungled it from the start, revealing what had happened to her without heed and then plunging into other people’s business.
Her shoulders slumped and Brittany realized she still held the brush. She sat it next to her on the chaise then stood, refusing to cry. Besides making love to Trey, her days were spent eating, throwing up and crying. In between, she cooked the meals, ran errands and cleaned up.
She started toward the door, stopping when Spencer walked out of the bathroom, her face wet with tears, her features flushed.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything I said and you’re right about everything you said. I’m a wreck. Just a wreck. I’d begun to build up a good clientele with my graphic design business. I have work waiting and I have no desire to get to it. If I don’t do something, I’m going to lose everything. My husband. My children. My career.”
“Your sanity,” Brittany finished.
“Yes.”
“Don’t shut Mitch out. I bet he needs you as much as you need him.”
“Oh, Brittany—”
“I get lonesome in the evening with my lug of a brother gone and“—she smiled through her tears—“my husband at work.” She’d never tire of calling Trey her husband. Other than last night when Trey had stopped in to make love to her, she was bored out of her head. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to come over here a few days a week to help out with the kids.”
“You’re expecting and I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“We’re friends. Of course you can ask me. If you had. I believe I made the offer.” She shrugged. “Besides, it’s not as if I have a job.”
“As long as you’re offering.” Spenser cocked her head. “Do you think you’d be interested in helping me with some of my graphic design? I can pay you a small salary.”
“I don’t know anything about graphic design and I would never accept money from you, even if I did.”
Spenser’s eyes, though red, looked a little brighter. “I’ll teach you and, yes, you will accept money. Two birds with one stone. Helping me out and earning a salary. I’ve been thinking about getting an assistant anyway.”
“As long as you keep a supply of pretzels you’ve got yourself a deal.”