The Young Wives Club

by Julie Pennell

  As Gavin headed to the bed, Claire ducked into the closet to put on her new lingerie. As she came out, revealing her new purchase to him, she ran her hands down the silk fabric. Gavin lay on the bed, in nothing but his boxers.

  “Come here,” he said with a grin. As she got into bed with him, Gavin put his hands around her head and pulled her in close for a kiss. She could taste hints of the wine on his tongue.

  “You are so sexy,” he said in between kisses.

  She smiled. It felt so good to hear him say that. As they twisted and turned in the sheets Claire felt like something was different. They hadn’t had this much passion in a very long time. She felt like she did when they had just gotten married—beautiful and loved.

  After it was over, they both lay breathing heavily in each other’s arms.

  “That was amazing,” Gavin finally said, brushing her matted hair from her forehead. “What’s gotten into you?”

  “I dunno,” she said with a laugh. “I guess you just inspired me.”

  Gavin fell into a contented sleep shortly after, and Claire lay awake, reveling in her victory. With a smile, she grabbed her phone, and send out a missive to Gavin’s followers:

  @Pastor_Gavin: Life is good! #hallelujah — Just now

  39

  madison

  “CAN I GET two of the Lucky Day scratch-offs, please, Mr. Gary?” Madison said, fidgeting with the blue fishing lure charm bracelet on her wrist. The air-conditioning in the gas station was on full blast, making her shiver even though it was eighty degrees outside. “And two coffees,” she said, handing him a twenty-dollar bill. As Mr. Gary turned around to get the lottery tickets, she glanced down at the Snickers bars. “Oh . . . and these, too,” she said, placing two of the candy bars on the counter, feeling a sudden twinge of guilt at all she’d stolen over the years.

  “How’s your daddy doing?” he asked, pushing his Coke-bottle glasses up on his nose.

  “I’m actually goin’ to see him right now,” she said, grabbing the paper coffee cups he handed her. “He just got done with his chemo session so I’m gonna keep him company while Mama’s workin’.”

  “That’s good of ya, darlin,” Mr. Gary said over the Shania Twain song playing on the background speakers. “These tickets for him?” He pointed to the two scratch-offs sitting on the grimy counter.

  “Well, yeah,” she said, pouring the sugar into her cup and tightening the lid. “You know that’s the only way to actually cheer that man up. I’m just his puppet really. He says, ‘Mads, I wanna see you,’ but that’s really code for, ‘Mads, bring me my lotto tickets.’ ” She smiled because as much as her dad loved her, it wasn’t completely far-fetched.

  Mr. Gary chuckled, rubbing the front of his black and gold Saints T-shirt. “Okay, wait,” he said, turning around again. “Take another one on me. Tell ’im ol’ Gary hopes he strikes it rich.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Gary!” She put the tickets in her bag and zipped it up. “He’ll be thrilled.”

  He waved good-bye. “Drive safe, ya hear?”

  Madison nodded. “Bye now!”

  She started up her truck and hit SHUFFLE on her phone’s iTunes. As she backed out of the parking space, the first song to play was Cash’s acoustic song, “Hurricane.” It was the one that he wrote and recorded when they were sophomores, shortly after they started hooking up. Even though Cash would never admit it, she knew the song was about her. He had written it after their first breakup, a result of some drunken argument at Billy Prejean’s sixteenth birthday party.

  You shoulda come with a warning / Strong, fierce, wild in the morning

  I never thought I’d survive / but oh, oh, baby, you make me feel so alive

  We got one chance to get through this night

  And if the tears don’t dry out tomorrow

  Will we give up this fight

  For I’ll take the thunder strikes and all the rain

  If we can make it through, if we can make it through

  This hurricane . . .

  The song stopped just before she turned down her parents’ street. She put her hand on her chest, hoping the aching feeling there would go away, but it didn’t. She took some deep breaths and opened the truck door slowly. In a few seconds, she’d be sitting with a man who was literally fighting for his life—she needed to forget about Cash and her own problems just this once. Connie said Allen needed some cheering up, and that’s what she was going to do.

  “Hello?” she said into the empty house, walking through the living room to her parents’ bedroom. Allen was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. He looked miserable—even more miserable than the time when she was ten and he snipped the tip of his middle finger off with the chain saw while cutting down a tree in their backyard. He’d been in so much pain, but she still managed to cheer him up: “At least when you flip people off, it’ll be even more gnarly,” she’d said.

  “Hey darlin’,” he moaned.

  “Daddy,” she said softly, kneeling down. His skin was pale and his lips were cracking. Her stomach went sour seeing him in this state. “You look terrible.”

  He put his frail hand delicately on her face. “You don’t look so good yourself,” he said, pinching her cheek. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Don’t even get me started,” she said, shaking her head. “How are you feeling?”

  “Awful,” he said quietly. “This stuff they put in me isn’t natural. I dunno if I’m gonna do any more.”

  “Um, yeah you are,” Madison said with a strict tone in her voice. “That’s the only way you’re gonna get better.”

  “Hell, I was doin’ fine until your mama made me go see the doctor in the first place. It’s been downhill ever since.” He let out a hacking cough. “Just look at my dad—lived ’til he was ninety-three, and that man didn’t go to the doctor a day in his life. Smoked a pack a day, drank his gin like it was water, completely fine ’til he just up and died from old age. He said, ‘I’ve had it with this place, I’m gonna go to sleep now.’ And that’s the way to do it.”

  “But you’re not ready to go to sleep yet,” Madison said, touching his arm. She was trying to be strong, but his words pained her. “Mama’s not ready for that yet and neither am I. You’ve gotta fight it.”

  “I am,” he said, lowering his head. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “I brought you coffee,” she said, handing him the warm cup that she had placed on the bedside table when she walked in. “And these . . .” She pulled the three scratch-offs from her bag. “Gary sent you an extra one.”

  “Well, that’s awful kind of him,” Allen said, struggling to sit up.

  Madison plopped on the bed next to him and gave him a quarter. “Go for it,” she said, handing him the first ticket.

  He scratched off the golden horseshoes, which gave him numbers eight and seventeen. He tried desperately to find a match, but with each scratch-off, all he got were the little gold flakes that fell onto his white cotton undershirt.

  “Try this one,” she said, handing him the one Mr. Gary had sent over. Allen continued with the scratching, but their hopes waned with every nonmatching number he uncovered.

  She sighed and began scratching off the last one. With every horseshoe she uncovered, it became clearer that they weren’t even going to win a dollar. As Madison scratched off the final horseshoe, a weird squiggle began to appear—something that didn’t look like a number. Her heart jumped and she scratched harder.

  “Oh. My. God.” Madison could barely speak.

  “What?” Allen looked over at the ticket.

  She pointed to the final slot on the card, which contained a symbol neither of them had ever seen in their lottery-playing career.

  “Is that the pot of gold?” her dad screamed with excitement.

  She nodded as disbelief raced through her. “We just won fifty thousand dollars!” she said, giving her dad a long hug.

  Winning the lottery was something Madison had fantasized about happening since she
was a little girl, but through the years with every unlucky scratch, her dreams faded. This win, though, seemed like proof that good things could happen to her—that she wasn’t destined for a life of bad breaks and misery.

  “I can’t believe it!” he cried.

  She stared down at the ticket in her hands. It was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen. And suddenly, she knew what she had to do.

  “Daddy, this is enough, right?” she asked, continuing to stare at the little cartoon drawing to make sure it was real. “It’ll pay off the rest of the house and cover the medical expenses?”

  He nodded. “This will certainly get us back on our feet.”

  “Good!” she said, handing him the ticket. “I want you and Mama to have it all.” Her heart felt warm.

  He looked up at her with wide eyes. “How are we so lucky to have gotten such an amazing girl?”

  “You musta done somethin’ right,” she said, kissing him on the forehead and saying good-bye.

  She’d set his life right. Now she had to take care of hers.

  • • •

  “HEY,” SHE SAID, poking her head onto the back porch where George was sitting with Charlie. She smelled steaks on the grill as soon as she stepped out.

  “Hey! How was your visit with your dad?” he asked, putting down his copy of the Wall Street Journal. He was the only person she had ever met who read his newspapers at night. Actually, he was the only person she had ever met who still read newspapers.

  She ran her fingers through her hair. “I have to talk to you about something,” she said nervously, joining him at the bistro table.

  He gave her a worried glance. “What’s up?”

  She wished she could just press FAST-FORWARD and skip this whole scene, but she knew she had to do it. Madison swallowed, her mouth dry. “I have to leave, George.” All the happiness she felt from the ticket earlier that day drained away as she tried to find the right words.

  “What? Is something wrong with Allen?” He sat up straight, his eyes widening with fear.

  “No, no.” She shook her head. “He’s okay, I think.” Her knees began bouncing up and down under the table. “I have to leave . . . this.” She waved her hand between the two of them.

  George face’s fell and he slumped back into his seat. “Was it something I did?”

  “It’s something we both did, George,” she said. “We entered into this thing knowing full well it was a marriage of convenience. I mean, who’s to say it couldn’t work for some people, but I think I’m the kind of girl who needs something else.”

  “I can give you what you want,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “Just tell me what you need.”

  She shook her head and leaned back, her heart aching for him. “George, I’m not the right one for you. I want you to find someone who is.”

  He stared at her for a second. “But you are the right person for me, Madison. I like what we have, and call me crazy, but I think you like being with me, too.”

  Madison put her hand over his. “I think we both really care about each other in a weird way,” she admitted. “But what we have is friendship, not love.”

  His eyes flashed. “So, you’re just gonna leave now? After all that I’ve done for you?”

  “I will pay you back, every penny,” she promised in a hard voice. “But don’t say I took advantage of you when you know you had your own agenda in mind. You knew I was vulnerable and you offered to swoop in and save my family. What was I supposed to do?”

  He straightened his shoulders but he had the decency to look ashamed. “I never made you do anything you didn’t want to do.”

  “It’s true, you didn’t.” She paused. “But I didn’t either.”

  George pushed away from the table and leaned against the porch railing, looking out over the grounds. The pool she’d joked about so many months ago now glistened in the distance, and the restored flower beds were in full bloom.

  “Look, I don’t mean to hurt you, and I know that it’s going to—it’s hurting me too.” She took a deep breath. “But this is just something I have to do. I need to go out on my own.”

  “Then go,” he said quietly, not turning to face her.

  She stood up and touched his shoulder. “Good-bye, George.” She took a deep breath and felt a mixture of relief, freedom, and heartache.

  Madison went into her room, stuffed her backpack with as many of her clothes and belongings as possible, and headed back downstairs. She peeked out the sliding glass doors in the kitchen and saw that George was still sitting in the same position, looking up at the sky. Her stomach and chest hurt even worse than the time he caught her with the necklace in front of the pawnshop, but she tried to shake it off. This wasn’t her real life and it never had been.

  She headed through the front door and onto the driveway where Cash Romero waited for her. As she lowered her sunglasses over her eyes, she reminded herself that this is what adventurous girls like her were meant to do—ride off into the sunset with the bad boy on the motorcycle.

  40

  laura

  “YEAH, BABY!” BRIAN hollered from the bedroom. Laura was in the kitchen, helping Janet chop bell peppers for the gumbo while Rob was preparing the sausage. The three of them looked up from their tasks as Brian hobbled into the kitchen on his crutches, beaming.

  Laura felt herself smiling back. Brian had just called Coach Perkins to update him on his recovery, and based on his response, it had to have been good news.

  “What’d he say?” Janet asked excitedly, moving toward her son.

  “I get to keep my scholarship, and they’re gonna work with me on physical therapy this year!” Brian exclaimed. “They want me to come back to Baton Rouge as soon as I can so we can get started. Coach said I can train with the team, and if everything’s good, I should be back starting the year after—maybe even sooner.” He grabbed a piece of the pepper off of Laura’s cutting board and threw it in his mouth, then kissed her on the cheek.

  “That’s amazing!” Laura cried. A sense of relief rushed over her, as well as gratitude. They’d been through hell this year: moving back to Toulouse, living with Janet and Rob, losing all their money. But they’d done it all for this moment, when Brian could return to the team with the hopes of getting back on the field and leading the Tigers once more.

  Janet crossed her arms, looking worried. “You’re not gonna jump into training too fast, are you? I don’t think you’re supposed to put that kind of pressure on it for a while.”

  “Don’t worry, Mom,” Brian said. “They won’t make me do anything too major for a while.” He paused. “I can’t believe they’re actually taking me back!”

  “So proud of you, son,” Rob said.

  Laura walked over to Brian and gave him a hug, nuzzling her face into his light blue polo shirt. “I’m really happy for you.”

  But even as the words came out of her mouth, contradictory thoughts spun through her mind. The idea of moving back to Baton Rouge with Brian worried her. Sure, she could apply for LSU’s spring semester, but she wondered if they moved back, would she go back to waitressing at the coffeehouse again, doing her husband’s homework at night, and spending game days hearing people talk about all the great things he was doing with his life?

  The real question was, what was she doing with hers?

  • • •

  “YOUR HUSBAND IS the man,” Kenny said to Laura as he opened his front door and gave Brian a one-armed hug.

  Laura squeezed past them and entered the cozy front room of his parents’ camp at Mossy Pointe, a small man-made beach twenty miles from Toulouse. Kenny had it for the weekend and was hosting a party to celebrate his best friend’s successful surgery.

  “Where should I put these?” She held up a bag of tortilla chips and a medium plastic container filled with homemade cowboy caviar.

  “Ooh, what’s this?” Kenny asked, lifting the lid and greedily eyeing the mixture of black-eyed peas, tomatoes, corn, and avocado. He l
ooked up at her, worry flitting across his face. “Did you make this?”

  Brian answered for her. “Don’t worry, man—it’s a Janet Landry contribution.” Laura rolled her eyes. Kenny had experienced one of her cooking mishaps a couple of years back—she had made Brian a yellow cake with chocolate frosting for his seventeenth birthday, and everyone at the party realized within the first bite that she had used baking soda instead of baking powder.

  “I’ll just put these in the kitchen,” she said, flashing a polite smile.

  The guys followed her, and Kenny threw Brian a beer from the fridge.

  “Should you be drinking with the painkillers?” Laura whispered in his ear as he cracked open the can. She wanted to remind him that he’d promised to stop drinking entirely, but held her tongue. After all, this was a celebration.

  “Nah, I’m good,” Brian said with a laugh. “I didn’t take any today—knew I was coming here.”

  As people started arriving, remarking over Brian’s surgery and congratulating him on being back on the team, Laura snuck outside to get some fresh air and set up for the party. She covered the long picnic table out back with old issues of the Toulouse Town Talk and set three rolls of paper towels on top. Through cabin windows, Laura watched everyone huddle around Brian, focused in on his every word. She wondered if he was telling them that he couldn’t have done any of this without her; how she’d helped save money for him before he lost it; how it was her idea to file the appeal for the insurance; how she missed four days of school to be by his side at the hospital in New Orleans. And if he wasn’t saying it out loud, did he at least appreciate it?

  As Laura was putting the plastic forks and knives in a mason jar, everyone finally started coming outside. She looked up to see Claire and Gabby in the crowd.

  “Hey, girl!” Claire said, carrying a bottle of wine.

  “Why are you setting up Kenny’s party?” Gabby asked, giving her a hug.

  Laura laughed. “Do you really think Kenny Fontenot knows how to set up for anything? For his Super Bowl party last year, he filled the washing machine with ice and put the beers in there.”