"I don't know." She rested her forehead on the steering wheel. "Marisol says don't decide anything until my hands stop shaking."
"Marisol is a wise woman." A pause. "Ren. Do you want to be married to him?"
"I don't know that either."
"Okay. Okay. That's allowed." Tasha's voice was very gentle now, the voice she had used when they were girls and Renée had woken up from nightmares in the bunk below hers. "You don't have to know tonight. But you should talk to her."
Renée lifted her head. "To Lauren?"
"To Lauren. You only have his side. His side is the side where he's the poor confused man who didn't plan anything and got kissed against his will on his own couch." Tasha snorted. "Get her side. You don't have to like it. But you're a nurse. You don't diagnose off one set of vitals."
* * *
Carol Kessler called the next morning, Wednesday, while Renée was standing in the hall closet looking for Ivy's shepherd costume, which was an old brown bathrobe of Matt's cut down and belted with a length of rope.
"Renée, honey!" Carol's voice was bright and brisk, a voice that had organized forty years of church bake sales. "I'm just calling about Christmas Day. Are we still saying two o'clock? Should I bring the green bean casserole or did you want to do it this year?"
Renée stood very still in the closet with the bathrobe in her hands. Carol did not know. Of course she didn't. Matt would never have told her.
"Two is fine," she said. "Bring the casserole."