Lynette felt a disturbance in The Force. Well, perhaps it was not The Force, but she did, for whatever reason, feel suddenly compelled to look out her front window toward the Van de Kamps’ house. She also felt suddenly compelled to go see how Rex was doing, or rather, how Bree was doing, whether she was at home or at the hospital. She decided to try their home first.
She stood up rather suddenly. “I’m going to see how Bree is doing. Penny needs to be fed; there’s a bottle in the fridge. I’ll be back.” Tom sputtered a halfhearted protest before he realised that this was what he was in for, and just nodded.
Lynette grabbed the keys to the minivan on her way out the door, and straightened her shirt collar on the sojourn across the street. She paused in the Van de Kamps’ front yard. She heard a sound, an unfamiliar one. She could not quite place it, nor its origins, but she drove down a feeling of foreboding. She looked down the street at Susan’s house, wondering if she should call for back up on this one. Susan’s house, however, was quiet, with none of the usual hullabaloo, and so Lynette resolved herself to deal with whatever lay before her herself. And so she knocked.
No answer, but she could hear the noise more distinctly now, and it was definitely coming from Bree’s house. Suddenly, Lynette knew what the sound was, and prepared to kick in the door and kill Rex for hitting Bree, because that was the only thing that could cause Bree to make that sound. In her fury, though, the cool, calculating part of Lynette, the part that had pulled advertisements right out from under the noses of bigger, older executives, decided it would be better to sneak in and surprise him if it were possible. And so she tried the door.
It opened, and Lynette walked in, not to find Rex with a weapon or a makeshift club in his hand, but to see Bree sobbing on the end of the dining table, and it was at that moment that Lynette knew, and at that moment, her heart broke for Bree. She walked over to her friend instinctively, in a daze, and wrapped her arms around Bree’s shoulders. Bree did not flinch, as if she knew it were Lynette.
“I am so sorry, honey.”
“How did you know?”
“I didn’t until I came in. Can I do anything?”
“Hold me. Just hold me.”
Lynette pulled Bree gently up and they made their way over to the sofa, where Lynette sat down and pulled her taller neighbour into her lap. Bree curled up with her head on Lynette’s shoulder and cried.
“I’m sorry to be doing this to you…just…eighteen years…I still love you, but…”
“No, honey. You don’t worry about it. I don’t – and didn’t – expect you to stop loving him. I still love Tom in a way as well. But I do love you, as you know. So don’t worry; I’m here.”
Bree calmed a little and buried her face in Lynette’s neck, with Lynette stroking her back with her left hand, and supporting her shoulders and neck with her right arm.
“I’m alone, aren’t I?”
Lynette looked at her in surprise and more than a little dismay. “What do you mean, you’re alone? I am here, and I am going to be unless you kick me out. Don’t do that.”
“But you have Tom, and the children, and taking care of the children, and I’m alone here in the house, and…”
“No, Tom is going to be taking care of the children for a while, and as such, I can be out as late as I want. It’s executive privilege. And if that means you want me over here nights, I’ll be over here nights.” Lynette squeezed Bree a little for a moment. “I’m all yours whenever you need me.”
Bree did not understand all of what Lynette was saying in her grief-stricken daze, but did hear the last sentence, and sighed into Lynette’s neck. “Sleep with me tonight? Just sleep?”
Lynette nodded. “Let’s go find you some pajamas and get you into bed. I will hold you until you want me to stop.”
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