Secret Hearts

by J. L. Jarvis

  Sophie tried to smile but looked away, unable to meet Jake’s gaze. “You can’t count on people to make you happy.”

  “You can’t count on happiness, period,” said Jake.

  “No, but I always hope for it.”

  Jake shook his head. “Happiness is like a spark from a fire. You can’t help but be drawn to its light and its warmth. But you can’t hold it, and you can’t make it last.”

  “Then what do you hope for, Jake?”

  “That’s my problem. I keep hoping to hold it and to make it last.”

  Jake hung his hat and coat on a peg beside the door and turned to find his mother sitting by the fire, tatting. She kept her eyes on her lace as she greeted him, but Jake, like all children no matter how old, could read his mother’s moods. With a peck on the cheek, he bade her goodnight and walked toward the stairs.

  “And where have you been?”

  He stopped. “Out.”

  Maeve lifted her eyes to regard Jake with unmasked disapproval.

  “I’m a grown man, Ma. I can do what I please.”

  Jake turned to mount the stairs, but Maeve called out to him.

  “No unions. You made a promise.”

  “It was a boy’s promise.”

  “It’s a man’s folly.”

  “So be it.”

  Maeve set down her tatting and stared into the fire. “Have you forgotten—?”

  Jake’s jaw tightened. “I remember Da. And Will. And I remember who killed them.”

  “Jake. Don’t do this.”

  Jake tried to hold his temper. He would never convince her that matters wouldn't get out of hand. Still, he remembered the family’s sudden move from the Anthracite region of Pennsylvania when Kevin O’Neill took a job in a Johnstown coal mine. Over the years, Jake had deduced that his father’s involvement in the Molly Maguires had implicated him in a murder, during which he nearly lost his own life. A few years later, eleven men—eleven friends—were tried and hanged for their alleged involvement in the Molly Maguires. Maeve was determined that what had happened to those men wouldn't happen to her boys. As each O’Neill boy came of age and went to work, Maeve made him promise to stay clear of such groups.

  “Ma, this isn’t the Molly Maguires.”

  “And what’s the difference?”

  “The difference for me is that Will’s dead.” Jake took the stairs two at a time.

  Maggie tried to stay busy shelving books and helping people, but mostly she stole glances at Jake. She didn't want to, but she couldn't help herself. He had been sitting there alone, reading the newspaper, for several minutes. Maggie’s attention was forced away to attend to the desk. When she finished stamping books, she looked over to find Jake had been joined by a pretty young woman. They were leaning over the same book together, deep in conversation and all too frequent smiles. Maggie’s heart sank.

  “Who’s that girl with Jake?” asked her niece, Robin.

  “I don’t know, honey,” she said, trying to ignore them.

  “Is that his girlfriend?”

  “Young lady, that’s none of our business.”

  Maggie left Robin drawing pictures behind the tall library desk, while she went to shelve more books. She wanted to be far away from Jake and alone with her thoughts. But thoughts of Jake followed her no matter where she went. Her feelings for him, and she couldn't deny anymore that she had them, troubled her. A lot. She needed time. That was all—just some time to herself to sort through it.

  Clutching some books, she headed for a secluded corner of the library where she could hide until she regained her composure. She rounded a corner and stopped abruptly. Two lovers pulled away from a kiss, startled and staring at Maggie.

  Maggie looked first at Allison, then at Samuel. She had never seen a black man kiss a white woman. It simply had never occurred to her. She was speechless.

  “Maggie,” said Allison gently.

  Andrew’s sister. My Andrew, she thought. No, not your Andrew—not anymore.

  Maggie nodded slowly. “Allison.” She looked from one to the other. “Mr. Hollander.”

  Maggie glanced first at some books, then the floor, and then she said, “I’m sorry. Excuse me,” and walked away. She didn't know what to say. Allison? And Samuel? Did Andrew know? She heard footsteps and looked up to see Samuel. He nodded to her as he walked toward the door.

  “Maggie? Please, may I speak with you?” Allison said.

  Maggie nodded and led the way to an unoccupied corner, far from anyone’s earshot. Jake was still at his table across the library and, she noted, still enthralled by his companion. Maggie forced him from her mind.

  Allison looked stricken. “Please, Maggie, please you mustn’t tell anyone—not even Andrew.”

  “I doubt I’ll be speaking with Andrew again.”

  “Oh. I’m so sorry.”

  “I am, too,” said Maggie.

  “I had hopes for you two. You were good for him.”

  Maggie gave a half-hearted nod, but words caught in her throat.

  “Love doesn’t always happen the way you expect it,” said Allison.

  “No, I don’t suppose that it does,” she said, thinking of Andrew.

  “We’re in love,” she said simply.

  Maggie studied Allison with a curious frown. “I envy you.” She glanced away.

  “If Andrew wasn’t the one, then there’s someone better for you.”

  Nodding, Maggie glanced down and blinked watery eyes before turning back to ask Allison. “What will you do?”

  “What can I do? I love him.”

  “But you risk everything.”

  “No, I don’t. He is everything.”

  Maggie smiled. She could see how happy Allison was. “But what will you do? I’m trying to imagine the people in your circle. They didn’t look too pleased to see Andrew with me, but you and Samuel?”

  Allison nodded. “If we have to, we’ll leave. Maggie, I once loved the beautiful dresses, the fine restaurants, the parties, and the opera. But what at first was so lovely became lonely. I was lonely for a very long time.”

  “And now you’ve found love.”

  “It found me.” Allison leaned a bit closer. She had not been able to talk about Samuel. The chance to do so delighted her. “I think I must have loved him all my life. He was the only man who’d ever bothered to look beyond what he saw, to see that I wasn’t some porcelain doll—but a woman, with thoughts and feelings. He cared about that: who I was, on the inside.”

  “Oh, Allison. I hope you can be happy. I want that for you.”

  “We will be. We nearly missed love, and we won’t let that happen again.”

  Maggie’s eyes teared. “Why can’t we just know ahead about love, so we can avoid the disasters?”

  “Andrew hurt you. I’m sorry. I’ve been hurt myself.”

  Maggie had not known, but she wouldn't pry. She could only offer her sympathy.

  “But I also know that when love comes close enough to touch you, you must let it. You must let it in, or you never will know.”

  A chair grated across the wood floor. Maggie looked up. Her misty eyes followed Jake and his pretty companion to the exit. Had love found her once? Perhaps. But she had lost it. No—like a careless child, she had discarded it.

  “I’m happy for you,” Maggie said. “And I’m sad. The world isn’t quite ready for you.”

  “Then we will make our world smaller until it's ready—even if it’s a world of two.”

  The joy on Allison’s faced filled Maggie with warmth and some envy. Allison had found that great and rare thing. It wouldn't be easy. But to be truly loved, what price was too great?

  Maggie squeezed Allison’s hand and walked away to attend to her library duties.

  Christmas Eve brought no snow, only gray landscape. “How fitting,” Maggie thought, as she stared out the window and dried dish after dish. She was in Maeve’s home—and Jake’s—for the sake of tradition. When Beth and Maggie’s mother had died,
Maeve began to invite them over to her home. They had spent every Christmas there since. She was here for tradition, she told herself. In truth, Allison’s words still resonated. When love comes close enough to touch you…. Maggie had thought her true love was Andrew, but he’d let her down. His refined demeanor had advertised something he did not possess, for beneath his elegant looks and meticulous grooming was a man who desired her, yes, but not as much as he desired his own comfort. It never was love.

  Maeve looked up from the mulled cider she was stirring. “Jake should have been here by now.”

  At the mention of Jake, Maggie turned to listen. From the way Maeve was studying her thoughtfully, Maggie realized she must have shown a bit too much interest. Maggie looked away and concentrated on the dish she was drying.

  The children’s gleeful cries reached her before she heard the front door close. By the time the footsteps reached the kitchen, Maggie had nearly caught her breath. She was nervous. Jake walked in all full of vigor from the cold, with red in his cheeks and fire in his eyes. He looked rugged and handsome. He always had been.

  When love comes close enough to touch you… Had love already tried? Would it ever try again?

  Jake’s hair looked black in the dim light, and shining and speckled with mist from the moist night air.

  He gave his mother and Beth each a kiss on the cheek, and then he came to Maggie, and stopped. “Merry Christmas, Maggie.” He leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. Maggie thrilled at the touch of his cold lips on her cheek. Jake was different this evening. She saw him as if it were the first time she’d met him. His looks were the least it. Jacob O’Neill was everything a man should be, and she had been too close to see it.

  Maggie opened her mouth to wish Jake a Merry Christmas, but he wasn’t looking. He left the kitchen for a moment and returned with a pretty young woman in tow. First, he introduced her to his mother, and then Maggie’s turn came. Maggie greeted her cordially, even as her heart sank. Sophie. The girl in the library. Light brown hair framed her face with gentle waves. But most enchanting were her green eyes. Or perhaps they only looked green when viewed through Maggie’s envy.

  “Would you like some cider?” Maggie asked as she hid her inner churning with forced graciousness. She felt as though the house were whirling. The children ran into the kitchen and asked for carrots and apples to leave for the reindeer, which Maggie prepared. Then she tried to keep busy until Jake left the kitchen.

  She picked up some toys in the parlor, where Maeve was speaking to one of her children.

  “We decorate with greens at Christmas to remind us that spring will come again. Sometimes winter looks dreary and gray, so it helps us to see green, living things to remind us that life goes on.”

  Maggie’s throat tightened as she looked at the faraway look in Maeve’s eyes. She was missing Will and her husband.

  Jake brought out his fiddle and began to play a carol, while everyone gathered to sing, dance, or just clap. Beth and Maeve took turns singing folks songs from Scotland and Ireland. Jake lowered his fiddle and smiled at Sophie.

  With his violin in hand, Jake wandered out of the room. Hank looked over at Sophie, who stood leaning in the doorway. “Be careful where you stand, young lady.”

  She looked at him, confused. He smiled and pointed above Sophie’s head. She looked up to find she was standing beneath a sprig of mistletoe. She stepped aside with an uneasy smile.

  Hank continued, “Legend has it, you know, that if a woman isn’t kissed under the mistletoe at Christmas, she won’t be married in the following year.” Sophie froze awkwardly in her place for a split second—long enough for Hank to stride across the room to do the honors. As Sophie took a step backward, two hands took hold of her shoulders. Before Hank could reach her, Jake spun Sophie around to face him.

  Maggie arrived in the kitchen doorway in time to see Jake and Sophie under the mistletoe. With a grin, he looked into her eyes, and then planted a kiss on her lips. When it was over, Jake pulled back with a broad smile. Sophie looked stunned, and laughter and applause filled the room.

  Maggie backed out of the doorway and rushed through the kitchen. No one saw her close the back door behind her. The cold air soothed her stinging eyes as she leaned her back up against the house and fought to keep her heart from breaking. “You’ve been a great fool, Maggie MacLaren,” she said bitterly.

  Von Luden’s Pond was full of skaters, young and old, but none was more proud than Robin in her new Christmas skates. As Maggie laced up her own skates, Jake sped past. What effort it took not to notice him. Jake teased his brothers and raced around the outskirts of the pond faster than any of them. More than once, Maggie caught herself watching him, then looked about to make certain no one had seen. She did her best to avoid him, but the pond was too small.

  Maggie skated onto the ice. Jake rounded the far end of the pond and headed her way. She was so busy watching him from the corner of her eyes, she failed to see a bump in the ice. Her skate caught it and sent her feet into the air and her backside flat onto the ice. Jake swooped over and put his hands under her arms to lift her to her feet.

  “Are you alright, darlin’?”

  Frustrated, Maggie yanked her arm free. “I’m just fine.”

  She tried to stand up but made a poor show of it, slipping and losing her balance. Again, she fell down.

  Jake reached his hand out. When she didn't take it, he said, “Don’t be stubborn.”

  “Stubborn?” She heaved an angry breath, but his kind smile melted through her defenses. She accepted his offered hand and let him pull her up, while he steadied her with an arm about her waist. She hated him for his strong arms that felt so good around her. As he led her to a log, she hated herself for letting him give her this false sense of support that wouldn't last. She didn't want to lean on his hard shoulder and feel reassured when it would only lead to confusion and pain. She could lose herself in his arms, if she only knew how to find her way there. But it was too late.

  Jake sat down beside her.

  “How do you do it?” she asked him.

  “Do what?” Jake replied.

  “Manage to be there when I fall.”

  A smile started to form, but it faded. “It’s a gift—being there when you don’t want me.”

  His words were quiet but with a cynical edge that caught Maggie off guard. She said, “That’s not true. I was trying to say—”

  “Forget it, Maggie.”

  “Forget what? I don’t understand you anymore.”

  He muttered, “That makes two of us.”

  She could see he was angry. She hated the tension between them. Jake hated it, too. She could tell—unless something else was bothering him.

  “Jake, talk to me.”

  He glanced at her. “It looks like you’ve recovered from your fall, so I’ll be on my way.” He leaned forward and began to get up.

  Maggie caught hold of his shoulder before he could stand. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

  With a smirk, he said, “It wasn’t the first time.”

  A stab of guilt struck her. After years of close friendship, they’d changed toward each other. No, she was the one who had changed. She’d been wrapped up in her feelings for Andrew, and left Jake behind. “I’ve hurt you. I’m sorry.”

  Jake’s eyes burned with months of pent up aching that used to be love. “Don’t be sorry. I don’t need your pity.”

  “It’s not pity. We’re friends.”

  “Friends.” He looked and faced her with accusation.

  His attitude hurt her. She said, “We’re still friends, aren’t we, or have I lost you?”

  “Lost me? You knew where I was.” His dark eyes bore through her.

  Maggie felt cornered and lashed out. “You knew where I was, too.”

  “Yes, I did. You were up at the lake with your boyfriend—excuse me—your fiancé.” He smiled a false smile. “How are the wedding plans coming?”

  The blow landed and hurt. Maggie gave no
reply. A long silence stretched out. Feeling chilled, Maggie hugged her shoulders.

  Regretting his harshness, Jake said, “Look, I know you fell in love. It isn’t a crime.”

  Maggie found it hard to look Jake in the eye anymore.

  He went on, “But I hated to see you going up there to the mountain with your rich people, and their college degrees and fine houses and fancy clothes—trying to be someone you’re not.”

  It was difficult hear, but she offered no argument.

  Jake hesitated, and then said, “No, that’s not true. What I really hated was to see you with him.”

  Her eyes flashed toward him, but he looked away quickly.

  Jake’s raw emotions had taken him past the bounds of dignity or pride. There was no stopping now. “While you were up there at the lake, playing tea party, life went on down here—without you.”

  Sorrow darkened her brow. Timidly, she put her hand upon Jake’s arm. With a soft voice she said, “I never meant to hurt you.”

  His eyes seared everything that they glanced at, none of which were Maggie.

  She said, “But I did, and I know it.” She lifted her hand from his arm and said, “I got lost in the glamour.”

  He said, “You wouldn’t be the first woman to give herself to a man for money.”

  A white-hot anger shot threw her. She swung her arm to slap him, but Jake caught her wrist and pulled her close.

  Maggie said, “I never knew you were cruel.”

  “Neither did I.” Jake opened his hands with a sudden release, like a man just awakened from a nightmare. Raw emotions hung in the air. He had let them all out. Now he sat on the log and stared up at curved mountaintops. He reached over and rested his hand on Maggie’s. “I’m sorry.”

  She turned her hand until her palm met his and laced her fingers in his. The crystalline flakes covered the ground with a cleansing layer of snow. But the light they reflected was bright. “It’s over with Andrew.”

  Jake’s anger was spent. His voice sounded tired. “I suppose I should say that I’m sorry to hear it.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “Good.” He couldn’t help asking, “What happened?”