Chapter Twenty-seven: The Strong of Heart

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Dusky light filtered through the living room curtains the next time Madison stirred. Not far away, Izzy stood folding blankets, looking rested and like someone who knew who she was and what had to be done. Madison wished she could be like that. She admired such confidence.

Izzy must've sensed she was being watched, for she turned, and smiled at the couch.

"I'm sorry to see you're up. Since you've had such a rough night, I was hoping to let you sleep awhile longer."

"Sorry I was so much trouble."

"Nonsense." Izzy stacked the blankets. "I'm just glad I was there to wake you whenever you had a bad dream. The house is quiet, isn't it? Looks like we're the first ones up, this morning."

As Izzy let out the air before folding the mattress and setting it aside for the day, Madison propped her knees under her blanket and opened the new book. The red ribbon made it easy to find where she'd left off, and though she was eager to dive back in, the shiny item under her pillow wanted to be looked at again. She could almost hear it begging to come out and be held.

The moment Izzy went into the kitchen, Madison pulled out the golden circle and held it in her hand. Strange that such a tiny thing could be so very important.

It probably hadn't been such a good idea to give Terry permission the way she had. Now that he'd actually proposed, she had to do something about it. Which now more than ever, still left her feeling like she needed to do something about Terry, in general. In short, things hadn't gotten any better since she'd gone to see Carol that second time to ask what to do.

Madison wondered how she'd managed to get herself into such a frightening fix, and with the help of a therapist, no less.

There were a few ways to get out of it that came to mind, things she could do that normal women like Emily would never think to do, to save their lives.

First, she could run. Not that she had anywhere to go, but running away had to be better than a lifetime of sex and slavery.

Second, she could get a fatal disease and die and then Terry couldn't marry her. Of course, the most fatal thing around here that was catching was the flu, and even then, it seemed to be slowly going away.

Third, she could choose to not marry Terry. That would mean she'd actually have to turn him down-- something he'd told her he didn't think he could bear. She hoped Terry had meant that in a figurative way, like not being able to bear the flu or a toothache.

Then there was ugly choice number four. Marry him, try very briefly to have sex, then claim she couldn't; he'd have to accept it and that would be that. They'd be married and Terry would be stuck.

Madison groaned. Terry didn't deserve any of those choices. He didn't deserve her. He didn't deserve Emily, either, but he didn't deserve a forever messed up loony like herself. She stuffed the ring under the couch with her notebook, turned back to Jane Austen and stared again at the words. If only her life wasn't hers, and she could be someone else. Anyone else, so long as she wasn't her, and then Terry could marry that woman and everything would be fine. Normal people didn't have problems, they just sailed through life without having to think too hard about stuff Madison had to concentrate fiercely on, just to figure out even a little.

A door opened in the hall. She could hear men talking, a little boy in the background, then moments later Terry strode into the living room dressed in slacks and a pullover sweater. His brown hair was lightly messed and looking like he'd just pulled on that sweater. The sight of him made Madison go weak inside. He looked good, the way food made you feel when you saw it on TV and you hadn't had anything to eat in days.

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