horrible. Why didn’t you leave him then?”
“I guess I was afraid. I talked to my minister about it. Not all of what I just told you, but enough. He prayed with me, told me where some shelters were, told me to always keep my keys by the door in case I needed to leave in a hurry.”
Tess shook her head. “I’m not sure that was the best advice he could have given you.”
“I don’t think he ever would have counseled me to leave my husband, but he tried to make sure I was safe. Reverend James offered to talk to Lenny, but I never told him. If I had, he would have been livid.”
“He would have been mad you talked to your minister?”
“Mad I told the minister about him.”
“And so you stayed.” Tess rubbed her back in slow circles.
“Until this past summer. Until I couldn’t take it anymore.”
A few hours later, Martha Maye looked out the store’s big picture window and saw Lenny and Butterbean cross the street, heading for the bookstore. She hurried to the back room, telling Tess as she passed her, “Don’t tell him I’m here.”
“Tell who?” Tess was confused. Then Lenny stepped through the door. “Oh,” she said under her breath.
He wore a New York Mets baseball cap, which he neglected to take off when he came inside. Tess smiled and greeted Butterbean. She looked coldly at Lenny. “Can I help you?”
“You’re Tess, right?”
She nodded.
“I never forget a beautiful woman,” Lenny said, pronouncing it woe-man as he always did.
She crossed her arms and glared at him. Pickle appeared out of nowhere and stood next to her.
“Who’re you?” Lenny asked bluntly.
“Pickle Culpepper. Who’re you?” Tess looked at him with amusement, and he added, “Sir.”
“I’m Lenny. We were just looking for my wife .”
“We want to take her to lunch,” Butterbean piped up, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“Oh. You just missed her. She left to go, uh, to go. . . ” Tess looked at Pickle for help.
“She went to Lou’s for lunch,” Pickle blurted out.
“Oh, that’s right. She went to Lou’s.” Tess nodded, thinking that was a smart choice because Lenny probably wouldn’t want to see Lou. She gave Pickle an appreciative look, then turned to Lenny. “We’ll tell her you stopped in.”
After Lenny and Butterbean left, Pickle said, “He looks like a nice enough fella. Why’d Mizz Martha Maye want to hide from him?”
“People are like corn cobs, Pickle.”
“I like butter-pops.” He rocked from his toes to his heels.
“Yes, well, picture them still in their husks.”
“Okay …”
“You never can tell which ones might be bad on the inside.”
Martha Maye wasn’t able to hide from Lenny for the entire day. When she left the store later that afternoon, she saw him and Butterbean waiting for her on a bench in the shade. Butterbean ran up to her and handed her a small bunch of orange and yellow flowers. “These are from Daddy. I was just holding them for you. They’re, they’re called Chrysanthemumums.”
“Chrysan-the-mums,” Martha Maye enunciated. “And they’re lovely. Thank you.”
“Come on, Martha Maye.” Lenny took her elbow. “Come check out the ride I have today. It’s a 1987 Mercedes 420 SEL.”
He led her over to a long silver Mercedes and opened the door for her.
“Where’d you get this, Len?” Martha Maye ran her hand over the leather interior as she got into the car.
“Big Darryl D says I can take my pick any time, and I picked this one today. Tomorrow it’ll be something different. Maybe a 1998 Lexus.”
Before Martha Maye knew what was happening, Lenny had backed out of the parking space and was headed out of town on a country road. He took them for an hour-long ride, and they stopped for dinner at Dough Boy, a pizza place Butterbean picked out. The sun was setting when he pulled into their driveway. Lenny had been on good behavior, and their outing had been pleasant.
“Thank you, Lenny. That was lovely.”
Butterbean
“I guess I was afraid. I talked to my minister about it. Not all of what I just told you, but enough. He prayed with me, told me where some shelters were, told me to always keep my keys by the door in case I needed to leave in a hurry.”
Tess shook her head. “I’m not sure that was the best advice he could have given you.”
“I don’t think he ever would have counseled me to leave my husband, but he tried to make sure I was safe. Reverend James offered to talk to Lenny, but I never told him. If I had, he would have been livid.”
“He would have been mad you talked to your minister?”
“Mad I told the minister about him.”
“And so you stayed.” Tess rubbed her back in slow circles.
“Until this past summer. Until I couldn’t take it anymore.”
A few hours later, Martha Maye looked out the store’s big picture window and saw Lenny and Butterbean cross the street, heading for the bookstore. She hurried to the back room, telling Tess as she passed her, “Don’t tell him I’m here.”
“Tell who?” Tess was confused. Then Lenny stepped through the door. “Oh,” she said under her breath.
He wore a New York Mets baseball cap, which he neglected to take off when he came inside. Tess smiled and greeted Butterbean. She looked coldly at Lenny. “Can I help you?”
“You’re Tess, right?”
She nodded.
“I never forget a beautiful woman,” Lenny said, pronouncing it woe-man as he always did.
She crossed her arms and glared at him. Pickle appeared out of nowhere and stood next to her.
“Who’re you?” Lenny asked bluntly.
“Pickle Culpepper. Who’re you?” Tess looked at him with amusement, and he added, “Sir.”
“I’m Lenny. We were just looking for my wife .”
“We want to take her to lunch,” Butterbean piped up, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“Oh. You just missed her. She left to go, uh, to go. . . ” Tess looked at Pickle for help.
“She went to Lou’s for lunch,” Pickle blurted out.
“Oh, that’s right. She went to Lou’s.” Tess nodded, thinking that was a smart choice because Lenny probably wouldn’t want to see Lou. She gave Pickle an appreciative look, then turned to Lenny. “We’ll tell her you stopped in.”
After Lenny and Butterbean left, Pickle said, “He looks like a nice enough fella. Why’d Mizz Martha Maye want to hide from him?”
“People are like corn cobs, Pickle.”
“I like butter-pops.” He rocked from his toes to his heels.
“Yes, well, picture them still in their husks.”
“Okay …”
“You never can tell which ones might be bad on the inside.”
Martha Maye wasn’t able to hide from Lenny for the entire day. When she left the store later that afternoon, she saw him and Butterbean waiting for her on a bench in the shade. Butterbean ran up to her and handed her a small bunch of orange and yellow flowers. “These are from Daddy. I was just holding them for you. They’re, they’re called Chrysanthemumums.”
“Chrysan-the-mums,” Martha Maye enunciated. “And they’re lovely. Thank you.”
“Come on, Martha Maye.” Lenny took her elbow. “Come check out the ride I have today. It’s a 1987 Mercedes 420 SEL.”
He led her over to a long silver Mercedes and opened the door for her.
“Where’d you get this, Len?” Martha Maye ran her hand over the leather interior as she got into the car.
“Big Darryl D says I can take my pick any time, and I picked this one today. Tomorrow it’ll be something different. Maybe a 1998 Lexus.”
Before Martha Maye knew what was happening, Lenny had backed out of the parking space and was headed out of town on a country road. He took them for an hour-long ride, and they stopped for dinner at Dough Boy, a pizza place Butterbean picked out. The sun was setting when he pulled into their driveway. Lenny had been on good behavior, and their outing had been pleasant.
“Thank you, Lenny. That was lovely.”
Butterbean
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