The Song Of The Willow

By R. A. Labrenz

When you find yourself stuck in a life you hate, how do you get yourself unstuck?
Do you burn down your current life? When Vieve Chapman finally answers that question, she is forced to admit that she’s been emotionally numb and shut down for the past 25 years. She’s placed herself in a loveless, psychologically abusive marriage. Victim identity often prevents people from focusing on developing their own uniqueness, personal boundaries and individual comfort levels. Vieve unlocks the emotional tools that will prevent her from returning to her harsh, emotionally damaged husband again.
When Vieve escapes, she teams up with a young, street-smart mother with two small children, who are also escaping from a psychotic ex-husband and father who is stalking them. Together they create their own version of a “witness protection program” and they hope it will be enough.
In New York City, the two women find their own strengths and build new lives. Once Vieve finds her authentic self, an attractive widower pursues her. Tony is the Captain of the neighborhood firehouse and he is seven years her junior. Tony struggles with Vieve’s triggers and the barbs of painful memories that work their way out of her heart. Vieve wrestles with the idea of raising Tony’s three children, with trusting again, and with his dangerous profession. This heroic man is certainly not perfect, and an edgy argument over Vieve’s former lover forces Vieve to make a decision far outside her comfort zone. As Vieve heals, she discovers Eastern philosophies, masculine and feminine sexuality, and even Tantric sex.
Both casualties of different kinds of abuse, Vieve and Gemma move forward. They battle their own misperceptions and limiting beliefs. Since they fear future involvement with another abuser, they burn emotional bridges that would not serve them well. After analyzing how she got to this point in her life, Vieve challenges all of her beliefs. Her new skills and feelings provide rich textures in a life that she never imagined, and for the first time ever, she comes alive as the authentic Vieve—a mature, intelligent, creative woman with loads of confidence.
----------
The inspiration for The Song of the Willow, came after 30 years of mentoring work with women in abusive relationships. Their experiences and their voices, compelled me to write The Song of the Willow, partly to let their stories be told and partly to show how some of these women were able to heal and have successful, happy futures. The Song of the Willow is not a "Burning Bed" or "Sleeping With The Enemy" story. Sadly, some of the women I knew lost their voices when tragedy overpowered them and they died or were killed. Since I know the details of their sad lives, and some happy endings that they absolutely deserved, I feel impelled to tell their stories.
Renée Labrenz The Author

• Language: English
• Publisher: R. A. Labrenz
• Release date: Nov 15, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370787722

R. A. Labrenz

R. A. Labrenz was born in her beloved Chicago (Pilsen neighborhood) and currently lives in North Florida. She has been writing since she was six years old, when she won her first award for an essay about her terrific and articulate father. Labrenz fosters a didactic approach to writing. In her words, she "writes about what matters." Both sides of her family are gifted story tellers, so she not only grew up immersed in this environment, but inherited those genes, the imagination, the memory and the word orientation to bring stories to life. As an Administrator who worked in corporate settings, she was often tasked with writing and communication. Since her heart is set on making things better, she has won peer Awards at GE Healthcare and Booz, Allen, Hamilton for implementing those enhancements, including improving the customer experience. When she's not writing she's often volunteering in community service. She describes herself as a Respecter of Life; Enjoyer of friendship with amazing people; Mother of 2 tall, handsome sons; Grandma Nay to Willow; Happy owner of the rescue Hungarian Vizsla/Yellow Lab-mix, Doc; Citizen of the World; Painter; Gardener; Chef/Baker; Author; Mentor; Speaker; Life Coach, and one of millions of Americans who descended from Governor William Bradford (Plymouth Plantation/Mayflower).

Book preview

Abuse is defined as any action that intentionally harms or injures another. There is physical abuse, emotional and psychological abuse, sexual abuse, animal abuse, substance abuse, elder abuse--the list goes on. Physical abuse is the infliction of injury by another person. While fiction, the abuse discussed in this story is primarily psychological and physical. Since we are sexual beings, abuse can also be manifested in sexuality. If you think reading, thinking about or discussing abusive behavior or sexuality, is unchristian, unsafe, unhealthy, or unclean or if you fear you will be triggered adversely, then you probably shouldn't read it.

Revealing the abuse is POWERFUL. All it takes for evil to continue is for good people to do nothing. This story looks closely at that power in two women's lives, how they identified, escaped, and then healed from the abuse and burned the bridges that led to abuse. The abuse specifics have been deliberately written as indirectly as possible to prevent actual scenes of abuse from being misunderstood as entertainment. There is hope that it can be stopped, case by case, but it requires hard work. Resources to get started are listed at the end of the story.

The Song of the Willow

by R. A. Labrenz

Smashwords edition

© 2017 R. A. Labrenz

All rights reserved

ISBN: 9781370787722 (eBook)

This is a work of fiction, loosely based on real experiences. Names, characters and incidents have been changed, single characters have been amalgamated, or are a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to organizations, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental and is beyond the intent of the author.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes Thank you for downloading this eBook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. That way my distributor can keep a tally. Thank you for your support.

This book is available in print at most online retailers.

Cover images:

Front cover: iStock Photo ID 170037389 Credit: EMReogan

For Amber, Ann, Becky, Clara, Debi, Nancy, Vicki

and because of Louie's encouragement

"She was in love, and he she loved proved mad

And did forsake her: she had a song of ‘willow;’

...And she died singing it"

Prelude to Desdemona’s Song from Othello, 4.3

by William Shakespeare

Table of Contents

Discloser

Title Page

Dedication

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 - Ruby

Chapter 2 - The DeLuca Chefs

Chapter 3 - Vieve with Jim

Chapter 4 - Young Vieve

Chapter 5 - Dysfunctional Group Therapy

Chapter 6 - Charlie and Delores

Chapter 7 - Functional Beginnings

Chapter 8 - Change Requires Courage

Chapter 9 - Anthony and Johnny

Chapter 10 - Jim

Chapter 11 - Escape!

Chapter 12 - Planning Stages

Chapter 13 - Brothers

Chapter 14 - LeVar

Chapter 15 - Creating A Distraction

Chapter 16 - Kelly

Chapter 17 - Ma and Pop DeLuca

Chapter 18 - Vieve's List

Chapter 19 - Captain DeLuca

Chapter 20 - Jim

Chapter 21 - Eleanor

Chapter 22 - The Loft

Chapter 23 - The Accident

Chapter 24 - Rosemary and Sophia

Chapter 25 - Sophia and the Bully

Chapter 26 - Firehouse Tour

Chapter 27 - Salud!

Chapter 28 - Kelly and Vieve

Chapter 29 - Community Party

Chapter 30 - Vieve's Date

Chapter 31 - Anthony's Feelings

Chapter 32 - LeVar's Plans

Chapter 33 - Dr. Paulson

Chapter 34 - LeVar's Stalking

Chapter 35 - Dr. Paulson Revisited

Chapter 36 - Sophia's on the Doorstep again

Chapter 37 - Parent Teacher Conference

Chapter 38 - Tony

Chapter 39 - La Clemenza di Tito

Chapter 40 - Benefit Concert

Chapter 41 - Tony's Announcement

Chapter 42 - The Mayor and the Fire Commissioner

Chapter 43 - First Date

Chapter 44 - Girls' Day

Chapter 45 - The Big No

Chapter 46 - Emotions Revealed

Chapter 47 - Gemma's Graduation

Chapter 48 - Joe and Rosemary

Chapter 49 - Vincent

Chapter 50 - The Kids and Vieve

Chapter 51 - Central Park

Chapter 52 - Resolute

Chapter 53 - Male Sexuality Class

Chapter 54 - Joe and Rosemary

Chapter 55 - Gabrielle

Chapter 56 - Zoo Day

Chapter 57 - Anniversary

Chapter 58 - Elliot

Chapter 59 - House Hunting

Chapter 60 - Tantra

Chapter 61 - Soul Mates

Chapter 62 - Slipper Tub

Chapter 63 - Sam

Chapter 64 - Safe!

Chapter 65 - Cellulite

Chapter 66 - Happy Wall

Chapter 67 - Fire!

Chapter 68 - Heroes

Chapter 69 - Haitian Kids

Chapter 70 - ER

Chapter 71 - PR

Chapter 72 - Commissioner's Call

Chapter 73 - Flourishing

About the Author

Lend It To End It - The Gift To End Abuse

Open Letter To My Readers

Resources

Other Books by this Author

Connect with R. A. Labrenz

Chapter 1 - Ruby

"I am no bird; and no net ensnares me;

I am a free human being

with an independent will."

Charlotte Bronté, (1816 – 1855)

English Novelist and Poet, Jane Eyre

THE short metal door to the green and white travel trailer opened with a dogged crash! against the outside of the trailer wall. Rust fell like dusty, powdered cinnamon that was shaken from a tin, but the young woman who jumped out didn’t notice the dust. Her body bent forward and her hands touched the soil.

She was off! Sprinting down the street with determination, she had always been fast and even now her feet carried her with magnificent speed, as they had on the track in high school, always far ahead of the other runners. When her coach had said she flew like the wind she believed him. Her long, strong legs were young and healthy. But she was a sprinter, not a long-distance runner.

She leaped on the porch of a neighbor’s house and beat on the door. Help me! Please! she begged. Her hands smacked flat against the windows until they rattled. Call 911!

The inside of the house went dark. Go away! a voice whispered from behind the door. We don’t want no trouble!

The slippery shadow of a large man came into view against the wall of the porch. Slower, but so much stronger than she was, as she got one leg up over the porch rail and prepared to jump, LeVar Washington’s meat hock of a hand grabbed her hair and he slapped his wife with the force of a freight train, propelling her, mid-air, across the porch and down the steps. Her body slammed against the pavement. Her calves and thighs were skinned and burned. He picked her up and slapped her again.

Don’t you never run from me, slut! LeVar Washington’s voice carried this message with intimidation and authority. He was a large, physically powerful man who had realized the respect brutality gave him during elementary school, in the playground. He laughed at the children, and even the adults who scurried away from the path he chose to walk. He knew he was very clever, despite his failing grades. People respect me, he thought.

Ruby Earlene Washington was eighteen and she had been deceived. This was her wedding day. She was a good girl. She tried to please Miz Mayhew, LeVar’s mother. She cooked and cleaned while the woman recovered from a broken hip. Miz Mayhew sent Ruby’s mother a bus ticket from Lynchburg, Virginia to Dayton, Ohio. It was just a visit, they told her, until the hip healed. LeVar had taken a fancy to Ruby and now she was married to him even though she never said, I do. She had thought they would live in an apartment, and took some pleasure in that. But after they were married, he took her to the dilapidated travel trailer in the backyard of Miz Mayhew’s place. There was no phone, electricity or plumbing. Ruby was a long way from home.

LeVar, fingers still entangled in her hair, dragged her back to the trailer. The door slammed as she was flung across the room. He wedged a chair under the handle. I am the man. You do what I say, slave! If I tell you to wipe my ass you will do it, strumpet! he demanded as he unbuttoned his shirt.

And now he wants to have sex? she wondered. Ruby held her jaw and nodded from where she lay. Her nose was bleeding and her lip swelled. She tasted blood where she had bit her tongue. She understood everything very clearly. She understood that she would run away as soon as she could. Maybe she would get a chance to sneak out later tonight.

Chapter 2 - The DeLuca Chefs

"A man loves his sweetheart

the most, his wife the best,

but his mother the longest."

Irish Proverb

I THINK selling the house is a mistake, Rosemary said to her husband in the fragrant kitchen of their neighborhood restaurant in Columbia Heights, Brooklyn, New York. Her skillful blend of homegrown Italian spices with fresh tomatoes and other vegetables, and splashed with wine melded into a locally famous sauce on the menu. Joe was in charge of that bubbling pot. She tasted the creamy Alfredo sauce and ground some white peppercorns to add zest. Rosemary DeLuca was a pretty woman, in her early sixties, carrying a few extra pounds even though she exercised regularly. She and her husband were creative cooks who designed dishes by taste. She had let her abundant brown hair gray naturally. Her father had been of Russian and Italian descent, and her mother had been Polish. She married Guiseppe DeLuca, Joe, the Italian-American love of her life, four decades ago.

Joe DeLuca kissed her cheek, then tasted his tomato-based sauce and put the other side of the spoon to his wife’s mouth. She sniffed, then tasted. More herbs, she said. Basil."

He chopped fresh oregano, basil and the tiniest bit of thyme, then showed the cutting board to his wife and when she nodded, he added the chopped herbs to the sauce. He said, Sweetheart, Anthony and the kids need to move in with us. They practically live with us as it is. Sophia’s just a toddler. And they’re all so lost. He stirred the red sauce and lingered in the fragrance as the heat released the scent of the additional herbs.

You know I want the kids, she said. But houses are so expensive. He should rent it out and keep the place. He’ll marry again. As she began to tear lettuces, her eyes searched for onions to slice. He’s still attractive.

When Anthony finds that nice girl she won’t want to live in the house he shared with Katie. Anthony’s in a transition. Let him sell it. He doesn’t need the hassle of being a landlord with everything else he’s trying to juggle. He’s got his priorities straight: the kids, then career.

She considered his reasoning, and heaved a sigh. You’re probably right, she said.

Joe patted her face, Thanks, my beautiful lady, he said. This happiness, what she had with Joe, is what she wanted for her sons—a loving relationship—this good life. Johnny had it with Yolanda, but since Katie had become ill and then died, Anthony was lost.

We raised good sons, Joe whispered. Anthony’ll be okay. Give him time.

Chapter 3 - Vieve with Jim

"I hate this wretched willow soul

of mine, patiently enduring,

plaited or twisted by other hands."

Karin Boye (1900 – 1941)

Swedish Poet and Novelist

VIEVE Chapman and her family applauded from the bleachers when Sammy received his high school diploma. Learning disabilities had made his life so challenging that Vieve had committed herself to speech therapists, psychologists and specialists from the time he was three. The oldest son, Peter, and his pretty bride, Diane, through smiles and applause, cheered Sammy. This was a noble success. As Jim stood clapping, he saw a woman, about Vieve’s age, with silver hair. He nodded in the woman’s direction as he nudged his wife. I don’t ever want to see you with gray hair. She makes her husband look old. He looks like he married his mother.

At the restaurant, to celebrate Sammy’s success, when the server asked for the drink order and Vieve ordered a glass of house wine, Jim stopped her.

She’ll have a water with lemon. Cancel the wine, he said.

But, it’s a celebration, Vieve sounded more like a plea than what she told herself: That she was simply reasoning with him.

Too expensive, Jim said flatly.

No, it's not, Vieve said. I'm worth $5.00.

No, Jim said.

Peter was about to say something but Vieve stopped him. It's not worth it, Peter. Just let it go. Let's enjoy Sammy's accomplishment, she whispered.

Chapter 4 - Young Vieve

"To Those Who Abuse:

The sin is yours,

The crime is yours,

And the shame is yours.

To Those Who Protect The Perpetrators:

Blaming the victims only masks the evil within,

Making you as guilty as those who abuse.

Stand up for the innocent or go down with the rest."

Flora Jessop (1969 –),

American social activist, author and advocate

against abuse of children

Church of Lies, TraumaAndDissociation

www.dissociative-identity-disorder.net

25 years ago

BARELY eighteen, the young blonde trudged up the steps and hid in the shadow of the Vestibule at the Catholic Church. She nervously looked behind her shoulder, twisted her wedding ring, which cut into the skin between her fingers, and then entered the sacred building. A man in a car waited for her outside. To keep himself warm, the car continued running. He was a neighbor, and she had begged him to drive her to this hallowed structure this morning.

As the car had approached the church building, even before she could see it entirely, the campanile, the bell tower, comforted her. This morning the tall architectural element drew her to the church by the sound of its bells. The bells served to call all devout Catholics to prayer and worship.

She opened the large doors that had been designed to be both inspiring and inviting. They drew her heart toward God and her body into the church. Standing in the interior, she sensed a spiritual journey to the heavenly kingdom from the dome. The height forced her eyes upwards, towards the heavens. Three beautiful shafts of light penetrated the interior of the church, like blessings of peace, comfort and reassurance from God himself.

As she passed the font or stoup, she stopped to sprinkle the Holy water on herself, beginning with her forehead. She crossed herself as her lips moved in silent prayer: By this Holy water and by your Precious Blood, wash away all my sins O Lord. She reminded herself of her baptism, her sins and now her cleansing with Holy water, which made her fit to enter God's house. She was very young, little more than a girl, really. But she knew that her reverent use of the Holy water, with her full faith and desperate contrition, would benefit and protect her. After all, she reasoned, it has power to banish demons, dispel their deceits and vexations, cleanse the soul from the stain of venial sins, avert earthly ills (other than those which God allows for our good), and promotes our temporal welfare.

Once through the narthex doors, she stood in the rear of the main body of the church, called the nave. The congregation sat here. It was a very holy place. Divided into two sections of seating with a central aisle leading to the altar, additional side aisles flanked the nave like a cross. She felt that only God could help her now. Believers are called to His peace. She would always be immensely grateful for His peace. She had fervently longed for it and prayed for it. She stepped forward into one shaft of light, which illuminated her lovely, sad face. One cheek was very red. This morning she had been slapped hard. Her eyes were teary and she sniffled. Long, blonde straight hair framed her pretty features. She was afraid she would have to bear the burden of having made a decision that could never be undone. She feared that she was stuck in an unbearable situation for the rest of her life.

This Church was old and she saw that the building still had the traditional confessional. Before she left home she had tucked the flowing, black, silk scarf around her heavy coat next to her blouse, and now she pulled the fabric up to cover her head and bowed low before the altar. She retired to a pew and bent down on the kneeler, praying, weeping and kissing a crucifix, which was attached to rosary beads. After sufficient time was spent in prayer, and after she heard a priest enter his confessional compartment, she made her way to him, properly covering her ear with her hand to show respect for the sanctity of the confessional. She entered.

Bless me Father for I have sinned, she began as she rested on the kneeler. It’s been four weeks since my last confession.

Yes, my child, the priest’s voice said through the lattice.

My sin is that three weeks ago I married a harsh, controlling, unbearable man and I wish to seek an annulment.

My child, is your husband also Catholic?

No Father, he is a member of the Church of God here in Fort Wayne.

In Reverend Deters’ congregation?

Yes.

An annulment can only be reached after many challenges are answered. In fidelity to Jesus’ teaching, the Church believes that marriage is a lifelong bond, unless one’s spouse has died. The tribunal process must determine if something essential was missing at the moment of consent, that is, at the time of the wedding. Even a marriage to a non-Catholic is valid.

A divorce then. I can’t bear it.

My dear child, I recommend that you and your husband meet me and Reverend Deters to discuss your unhappy state. Conflict resolution can often be overcome though communication. I’ll set up an appointment time.

After the first weeks of their marriage had passed, Jim and Vieve Chapman walked into Jim’s Church. Without touching, without making eye contact and without speaking, they each looked for the office to the left of the altar. Reverend Deters and Father Frazier sat in wingback chairs in the paneled office. The Reverend waved them in and motioned for them to sit down.

So, you want a divorce, Genevieve? Reverend Deters asked.

Yes, she said coldly. Please. I prefer Vieve.

Jim rolled his eyes, shifted his weight in the chair, shook his head and sighed.

But marriage is forever, Reverend Deters said. There is a no return policy on marriage.

Forever, Father Frazier repeated, nodding, approving. God wants you to remain married. But, it can be very difficult in the beginning. With the difference in your religious upbringing we thought it best to counsel you together. Father Frazier was the complete opposite of Reverend Deters. The priest was fat, with a paunch and jowls that gave Vieve the impression that he was a man whose fleshly desires were never wanting. Reverend Deters was a tall, thin man, with sunken eyes, prominent cheekbones and a chiseled nose. Vieve thought that though he was not ugly, there was something vulture-like in his appearance.

Smart, Jim said, nodding, all smiles.

Jim, it would probably be best to talk to you alone, then Vieve alone, and then together. If you would, please wait in the outer chamber, Vieve. the minister directed.

Vieve spoke up, I think we should both hear what each of us has to say and then listen to the counsel together. That’s only fair. Why separate something you wish to bring together?

The men shook their heads. They both said, No, with the full authority of their God. She had no choice but to leave. She bit her fingernails, then spit them out. She stood up, walked around the room a few times and chewed on the inside of her cheek. She wondered what Jim was saying about her. She couldn’t shield herself or rebut anything without knowing what he said. She couldn’t even listen in order to prepare a defense. The situation was supremely unfair. She paced in the small room until Jim came in, all smiles.

Then it was her turn. Vieve asked for Jim to remain with her, but the counselors again said that she should speak to them alone. She expected a prayer. There was none. She poured her heart out to the men. They nodded and encouraged her to continue. She explained that she had been in love with Jim, but never felt love from Jim. She told them about Jim’s obsession with all things sexual, the pornography he seemed addicted to was violent and demeaning. It was getting worse and worse. She said that Jim constantly accused her of having affairs with neighbors when he was at work. She explained how his male friends would come to their apartment when they knew he wasn’t home, and through the door they told her of their sexual intentions with her. When she told Jim what happened he said that was how guys are. He was never angry with them, but always angry with her. She gave them examples of how he belittled her, both publicly and privately. She cried a little while she told them of the hurts in her heart over Jim’s relentless controlling behavior and she didn’t even tell them everything. Unspoken barbs remained in her heart because she had no point of reference, no words to articulate her feelings. She reined her confusion in and focused on Father Frazier’s voice as he invited Jim back. He and Reverend Deters addressed both of them.

Genevieve, Reverend Deters began. My dear. The intimacies of marriage can be overwhelming to a young woman. Jim told us that you were very inexperienced in sexual matters and he was your first intimate experience.

When she nodded, Father Frazier continued, All men are basically built the same. If you think that you can get a divorce and be with someone who is endowed with better equipment, he chuckled, you’re sadly mistaken.

The Reverend nodded his agreement.

What? Vieve asked. This was bizarre.

Father Frazier said, We know that you object to sex.

Why would you say such a thing? What did he tell you? Vieve asked as she threw glances towards Jim. But the men weren’t listening. Wait. What counsel did you give to Jim? How did you help him with his controlling—

All taken care of, Reverend Deters interrupted. Genevieve, Jim loves you very much. You are breaking his heart.

The men continued, without answering her questions. You know you must continue to satisfy Jim. If you don’t, and he leaves or has an affair, God will see it as your sin.

Vieve moved through astonishment, shock and horror for the first time in her sheltered life. She whimpered. What if I leave or have an affair? Will God see it as Jim’s sin? Why is it always my fault? This was completely bizarre and she felt confused and abandoned by the priest who she trusted and the religion she had devoted herself to. She twisted her leather, fur-lined gloves with severity.

The counselors ignored her questions. When Jim feels the need to turn to books and magazines, that’s just a signal to you that you need to work harder at pleasing him, the Reverend said.

We have a young wives group that meets weekly. I think you would benefit from joining it. 7:00 P.M. on Wednesdays, Father Frazier said. In fact, this Wednesday everyone is bringing their favorite wedding picture to share with the group. We can help you with this.

Is there a young husband’s group or men’s group? Vieve asked.

Not necessary, the priest said. Jim’s already received our guidance. The girls need to be together to help them process.

Later, during the drive home, Jim said, I liked them. I’m glad you’re going to attend those group sessions.

Vieve asked, Why did you like them?

I don’t know, he said. They really listened to me. They helped me understand that living with an emotional basket case like you is really challenging.

When she phoned her parents to beg them to let her come home, it was no use. Her mother said that Vieve had made her own bed and it wasn’t their fault that she didn’t want to sleep in it. Vieve opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. It wouldn’t matter if I did scream, she thought. No one would hear me.

Vieve continued to pray in front of the large crucifix that she kept in a drawer in the bedroom. She would take it out, set it respectfully on the desk, kneel before it with her black silk scarf over her head and her lips quivering against her rosary. Her faith was all she had and she gripped that faith as if is she was in a mudslide, slipping off a mountain. In time, even her faith would erode from the torrential floods of insensitivity and faulty reasoning.

Chapter 5 - Dysfunctional Group Therapy

"You don’t ever have to feel guilty about removing

toxic people from your life…if a person disregards your

feelings, ignores your boundaries, and ‘continues’

to treat you in a harmful way, they need to go."

Daniell Koepke

College student, founder

and blogger at

Internal Acceptance Movement (I.A.M.)

THE Wednesday night young wives group was attended by women from ages eighteen to twenty-five. When Vieve walked in, Father Frazier hadn’t arrived yet and seven or eight women placed a cherished, framed photo on a table and oohed and ahhed over each other’s weddings. Vieve would have refused to bring her wedding picture in even if she had the photographs back from the photographer.

Cherri Anne’s pictures showed herself and Wallace kissing under the rose arbor in her Grandmother’s backyard. Wallace looked stoned or drunk. Jean stood beside Vieve as Cherri Anne