Chapter 10

Jenn's turn:

I'm getting married. Got a piece of paper from the courthouse, got an appointment with the preacher, and most of all, I got me a MAN! Yeah, okay ... That sounds like a giddy moron. I'm not like that at all. I'm sane. I think I'm sane. I think Chuck is sane. But three days! Friday I met him. We'll be married on this Thursday, and the world is full of people who think that's just crazy, but we're both stone cold sober and we're both adults, and we mutually agreed to this, so why not?

We got the license. Went home. Made love. LOVE! Not sex. I've matured enough to know the difference now. We made love. I was properly cuddled and kissed and caressed and then taken to the mountaintop and thrown off, to drift screaming ... three times. Then we showered and went to dinner together, to a restaurant where the owner's name is on the sign and his wife is at the front counter.

When we got back home, Chuck made a point of giving me a meticulous tour of OUR house. He was pointing out the incoming water line shut-off valve.

"You're something, dude," I said. He looked almost hurt. "I'm kidding. This makes sense. Really!"

"I think so," he said. "I had the handle come loose on the kitchen sink. It was a minor disaster before I got it shut off. If I didn't know where this valve was, it would've been a much bigger deal."

So I have a house where I know how to shut off the utilities. I've got a husband who cares enough that I know these things.

All that means that I have a man who's worthy of the title of 'husband'. I flashed back to high school English class where I had a teacher who was widely despised by the 'gimme mah diploma' bunch. I adored her.

I remember one class and today when I was thinking about Chuck in terms of 'husband', her words came flooding back to me. "Words have specific meanings that get lost over the years. Do you ever wonder about why 'animal husbandry' contains the word 'husband'?" She looked over an almost stoned class. I was listening, my mind running fast, deriving an answer.

She continued, "It is because the word 'husband' carries a much wider meaning than just the man who has a wife. It means ... anyone?"

Okay. I'm into this now. I'll risk adding another 'smart girl' log to my funeral pyre. So I raise my hand.

"Yes, Virginia, you wish to answer?" In the background were some poorly masked snickers.

"Yes, Mizz Pugh. Animal husbandry. Husbandry in this context means managing the resources necessary to get the best out of livestock, doesn't it?"

"Are you asking me, or giving me an answer?" She was like that. I had to remember to shift gears in her class. She was a consummate teacher, doing it for real instead of going through the motions like some of the other teachers.

"Excuse me. It's an answer." I dug deeper into my head. "One husbands one's resources, which means guarding and caring and properly using them."

"Correct, Virginia," she said.

"Husband," I said to myself. "Guarding and protecting his resources and seeing that they reach their full potential. That's me. I'm a resource. So's he. Happily, we're like nuclear fusion. All it took was to put us together and there's this huge amount of heat and energy and light."

Light. It's like that first clear blue day after a week of dreary winter nastiness. I didn't realize how beat down I had gotten living with Bert, and that's even when he took off for 'work' or whatever. Now, I had a brief little pity party about that, but then I realized that had I gotten out from under Bert's shadow earlier, I might not have found Chuck, or, more accurately, Chuck might not have found me.

I made him breakfast this morning.

"You can sleep late, baby," he said when I bounced out of bed when his alarm clock went off.

"And miss time with YOU? You go do what you need to do. I'm doing breakfast." I already knew what's in our fridge and pantry, so when he came out of the shower, the smell of bacon was in the air.

"I thought you being a nurse and all, I'd have a steaming bowl of oatmeal. Heart-healthy and all that."

I swung around and faced him. "I checked your pulse recovery time. You're in possession of a pretty healthy cardiopulmonary system. I think we can indulge in a bit of old Southern bacon and eggs and grits."

"I don't do this very often," he said. "But it sure smells good."

"Indulge, then. I promise you I'll do oatmeal tomorrow. And we'll see what we can do for a cardio workout."

He raised an eyebrow, smiling.

"You have a one-track mind, sir," I giggled. "But that's definitely part of it. Kayaks. I saw YOUR bike. I need one." I paused. "And your rifle matches? When are they?"

"One this weekend. I think I'm gonna miss it. Got a new wife."

"Your new wife is interested."

"Shooting those things ain't cardio. Wait'll you see some of the competitors. Ain't no six-pack abs there. A few kegs, though..."

I'd had my hands all over this guy. He wasn't far from a six-pack, and frankly, I don't want a lumpy husband, not from either end of the spectrum. "Will I fit in?"

"You won't be the first female there. Others occasionally bring their wives."

I took a breath. I was getting ready to cross another line. I hope I'm reading Chuck right. "I wanna shoot."

"Seriously?!?" he sounded incredulous.

"What did I say when you showed me your rifles? I want to at least try it." I was putting food on his plate as I spoke. "Chuck, unless it's your 'get away from the wife' thing..."

"Jenn, little love, I just GOT the wife. I damned sure don't want to get away from her. But to spend four or five hours on an outdoor rifle range..."

"Or paddling a kayak up a river. Or bicycling. Or leaned against a pickup truck watching a thunderstorm? Chuck, I'm not some little porcelain doll you have to put on a shelf and protect from everything. I've worked ER before. I know all about salty language. I even use some of it, although not like I used to. I've grown into a lady."

"Okay, princess..."

"I will be your princess under certain specific and controlled conditions. But..."

"But okay. I just wanted to give you a graceful 'out'."

"Watchit, Bud," I said. "I'm your wife. You and I? We're gonna do this up right!" I allow myself to see a bright, happy future with this guy. I put my own plate on the table and we ate together. When Chuck finished, we got up, I loaded the dishes into the washer and started tidying up the kitchen. I let him out the door with a kiss on his lips and a travel mug of coffee in his hand.

I retired to the living room with my own coffee and sat in HIS recliner. I could smell his aftershave on it as I closed my eyes. Yep! I'm in the right place.

I got up after coffee, put away some things, did an inventory of my own clothes and decided a few new things might be in order.

Out the door I went.

Chuck's turn:

I hope this is permanent. Okay, I know a couple of women whom I've been told will, for a resort weekend, just tear your ass up in bed. I mean, "Jeanie, let's go do us a Jamaica trip," and you get everything you want from 'er. Except that part I[PtC1] want. A heart. A mind. A melding of lives.

Jenn. Up with me this morning, even though I told her she could sleep in. Made breakfast. Argued with me over bacon and eggs. Insisted. Talked to me about diet and exercise, and then announced she was not only encouraging me to shoot the weekend match, but she was going WITH me as a shooter herself.

No wonder I'm humming along with Mozart on the way to work. I'm even impervious to the normal assortment of clueless morons on the road. When I walk through the door whistling, heads turn.

Ron noticed. "Your step's awfully springy for the second day in a row, Chuck."

"I'm liking my life, buddy."

Carl was next. "Honeymooners. Hmmph!"

"Jealousy is a terrible emotion," I countered.

Didn't get Jenn for lunch. Clients require attention, and for many of them, that attention comes in the form of lunch. The end of the day found me still at one client facility. I gathered up a bundle of drawings, gave him a ride to the gate, saving him a walk. I figured each hundred yards of walking that I saved him, we'd get ten thousand dollars worth of work on this project. At least that was HIS comment.

Out the gate. Bluetooth headset on, I called the office, got Celia who put me through to Ron. I delivered my update to him.

"You used to come by the office after those things. Your dedication is flagging."

"You have me all day. It's Jenn's turn now."

"Tell 'er I said 'hi' and save some energy for tomorrow."

"Yeppers," I replied. Next call was to Jenn.

"Hey, baby!" she answered brightly. "Are you on the way home?"

"Yes, I am."

"Got a surprise for you. I hope you mean every word you say to me."

"I do," I said, then immediately wondered what I might have said for her to ... what did she do? "Why?"

"I won't tell you. You have to come home and see for yourself. I think you would like the old me a little bit. It's for you. Not anybody else. Just me and you."

"You get to be you," I said. "I get to love you that way."

"Well, don't faint, then," she countered. "I talked myself into this and back out of it a dozen times. But I wanted to be the real Jenn for the real Chuck."

"I'm sure I'll love whatever resulted from that logic," I returned.

"Well, pay attention to traffic and get home safely. I'm here waiting for you."

So naturally I was distracted as hell on the way home. I trusted her. 'Trusted' is an odd word for somebody I'd known only a few days, but it was like plugging a computer into a hub – there's some sort of magic that goes on and then –click—you're in and part of it. That was Jenn. – Click – we're networked. Still -- 'Don't faint'. What could she have done? I LIKED Jenn's look the first time I saw her standing outside her broken car.

'Trust Jenn' my heart told me. So onward I drove.

I pulled into the driveway and got out. Walked up to the door. I was reaching for the keypad to let myself in when it swung open. There was Jenn.

"Ta-daaaaa!" she said. She spun around. "So! Do you hate it?"

"Nope." There she was. The blonde stripes were gone out of her hair, leaving that rich, warm brown. The back was cut a little higher. And the front was back to bangs. Fringe. Frame for the face of an angel. She was watching my eyes so she didn't see my hands. I grasped her and pulled her to me. Kiss. Oh god, a Kiss! The way she melted against me and kissed back. I breathed her.

"Scale of one to ten, Chuck. You like? Don't like?"

"Twelve. Then the needle stops moving. That's the natural color?"

"Yeah," she said. "I told the girl I wanted my natural color back. That place at the mall." Giggle. "NONE of those girls have normal hair. The one that did mine had blue. With spikes. Tried to talk me into highlights and tips and all sorts of things. I said 'natural. And trim the back, and give me back my stupid bangs."

"And you're beautiful and this only gilds the lily."

I was maneuvering her backward toward the sofa but somewhere along the journey she turned me around and kept pushing. I found myself sprawled backward with Jenn atop me.

"I'm soooo relieved. I risked. I could've lost."