Chapter 37
Dinner is a calm and soothing affair. It hurts to hold my spoon, but the stew I’ve made warms me, Tom’s quiet presence warms me, the glow of our dining room table in the yellow light warms me.
I’m safe now, and the memory of that ravaged face looming in the window seems remote, insubstantial, unreal.
I can understand that it happened, but I can no longer feel it.
The intense sting of it. The hell of the unkempt house and running home with that fake Rosie barking after me.
The humiliation of hiding my torn hands behind my back as Patty stared.
All past now, all gone. It happened to the old Judith, because I am the new one, the one basking and serene here, spooning up wholesome food with my bandaged hands.
I take a deep breath over my steaming soup, and savor the food and the peacefulness of being with Tom.
My love. My steady one. His eyes crinkle at me over his bowl.
“Delicious, Judy.”
“Thank you.”