The Summer Everything Changed by Holly Chamberlin Read Free Book Online Page B

Louise should have refused this request (demand) as outside the parameters of her contract, but Louise had been feeling generous for some unidentifiable reason.
    And after that chore was accomplished, she would pay a visit to the Banana Republic outlet. Not that she needed any new clothes, but you never knew what incredible find you might stumble across on an outlet’s sale rack. Isobel had not gotten her talent for bargain hunting from nowhere.
    Louise’s attention was suddenly caught by the sight of a couple standing dead center on the pedestrian walkway, forcing shoppers to make their way around them. They were a rough, unkempt-looking pair. The woman was badly overweight. The man wore glasses that had been repaired with silver duct tape, and a baseball cap turned backward. Both had on baggy jeans and T-shirts emblazoned with the brand names and logos of popular alcoholic beverages. The woman clutched a cloth tote bag that had seen better days.
    Louise’s instinct, finely tuned, told her that the man was an abuser.
    It had been a long time since she had experienced a similar feeling, a gut-based knowledge of trouble. It had been back in Massachusetts, when she had been working as a volunteer at a safe house for battered women and leading workshops for young girls and—
    The angry honking of a car horn brought home to Louise the fact that she had stopped in the middle of a lane of traffic. She hurried to the pedestrian walkway. The couple was still there; they seemed to be deep in conversation. Correction, Louise noted. The man was talking and gesturing wildly. The woman’s mouth never opened; occasionally, she nodded. Louise continued to watch them without seeming to.
    Her experience as an abused woman had made her even more concerned for the happiness of other women than she might have been if she had not gone through such an ordeal. At least, that was how she saw it. Making lemonade out of the lemons tossed into her lap? Maybe. Her experience had made her more attuned to the needs and well-being of others. That was probably not uncommon. Not everyone who suffered transformed into a selfish, bitter being.
    The man was talking now on a cell phone. The woman was staring at the sidewalk. Louise continued to watch them.
    Only months after her miscarriage—as soon as she could get around without the aid of crutches—Louise had begun to volunteer at a safe house for battered women. She had felt it was a moral duty. Which was not to say that it was an easy thing to do. There were days, especially in the beginning, when the weight of sadness emanating from the residents felt impossible to bear and she longed to run (or in her case, hobble) out through the back door and never return. But she stayed and learned and did what she could to help and was glad for it. She was grateful for her own survival and realized time and again just how lucky she had been in the end.
    Her fearful mother had questioned her choice of work; she had wondered if it would be healthier for Louise to “put it all behind her,” to try to forget what had happened to her. Nancy Jones had thought it best that her daughter avoid associating with people who could only serve to remind her of what horrors she had been through with Ted.
    But avoidance wasn’t an option for Louise, not back then and not now, here in this parking lot. She felt the frustration mounting. She knew in her gut that the woman in the Jack Daniels T-shirt needed help—she knew it!—but there was little if anything Louise could do for her. If she dared approach the woman—if somehow the man turned away long enough to allow an approach—it was entirely possible, even probable, that the woman would lash out at Louise, even roundly defend her companion.
    Some people sought abusive relationships for serious and complicated reasons. Riding to the rescue, even armed with proof of wrongdoing, was not to be taken lightly. You couldn’t assume