Loving Jessie

by Dallas Schulze

  “Again?” He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “What is this, the third or fourth time they’ve vowed eternal hatred? I thought for sure they were going to go through with it this time. Rumor has it Sally stood right in the middle of the vegetable department at the Stop and Shop and called Larry a tight-ass weasel in a voice loud enough to be heard all the way over in frozen foods. And then she threw an avocado at him.”

  “Several avocados, actually,” Dana said. “According to her sister, Tina, he was trying to dodge the avocados when he ran into the crouton display and knocked it over.” She caught his grin and pulled her mouth into a serious line. “The store manager was not amused.”

  “I don’t see why not. Story like that probably increased business by ten percent. So what did Larry do to get revenge?” Reilly asked, sitting up and leaning over to fish a bottle of Coke out of the ice chest. “Last time they were getting a divorce, it was because she drove his new Caddy into the swimming pool, and he flushed a four-carat diamond ring down the toilet as payback. If Sally drove him out of the supermarket in a hail of vegetables, I’m sure he didn’t take it lying down.”

  “No.” Dana settled into a more comfortable position, curling her legs under her on the blanket. “According to Tina, he drove home, started a fire in the barbecue pit and burned most of Sally’s wardrobe. He would have burned it all, but the neighbors called the fire department.”

  “They should have called somebody with a straitjacket,” Reilly said, shaking his head. “Two straitjackets.”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” She looked at the other couple. Larry had his arm around his wife’s waist and was smiling at her as if she were the only woman on earth. Looking at them, it was hard to imagine that they’d ever exchanged so much as a sharp word, let alone hurled insults and vegetables at each other in public. “They pretty much keep their insanity in the family, and they do seem to love each other.”

  “When they’re not trying to kill each other,” Reilly said dryly.

  “Everybody needs a hobby, I guess,” Dana said. He laughed, and she felt contentment sigh through her, soft and fragile as a whisper.

  There hadn’t been much laughter between them lately, she thought, drawing her legs up and wrapping her arms around them. Not much laughter and not much of anything else. They shared a house and a bed, but it had been months since they’d shared anything more intimate than that. Looking at him, she felt her stomach tighten with a mixture of love and anger and good old-fashioned lust.

  He was wearing a pair of faded jeans that rode low on his narrow hips and a gray T-shirt that molded the heavy muscles of his chest and shoulders. Her fingers tingled with the urge to stroke those muscles, to curl into the thick golden softness of his hair. A year ago she might have acted on that urge, might have scooted across the blanket to sit next to him. A year ago he would have reached out to pull her to him, sliding his arm around her waist or just letting his hand rest on her knee.

  A year ago he hadn’t slept with another woman.

  Oblivious to the noisy hustle and bustle around her, Dana rested her chin on her knees and wondered, for the thousandth time, if it was something she’d done or failed to do that had driven him to another woman. Reilly had insisted that what had happened had been a moment’s insanity, that he loved her and only her, and that it would never happen again. She believed that he meant it, and she knew that any therapist worth his salt would tell her that she couldn’t take responsibility for another person’s actions. She even believed that. Most of the time. But a niggling little doubt remained. Was there something lacking in her that he’d found in that other woman? A spark? A warmth? What had this other woman offered Reilly that he couldn’t find in his wife’s bed?

  It wasn’t beauty that had drawn him. Sometime during that long, horrible night when he’d told her what he’d done and begged her forgiveness, the other woman’s name had slipped out. A few weeks later, the hurt still raw inside her, Dana had found a way to see the woman she couldn’t help but think of as a rival. What she’d seen was a woman in her mid-thirties who was cute rather than pretty. Dishwater-blond hair, brown eyes, with a rounded figure that teetered on the brink of being plump—she looked more like a kindergarten teacher than the classic image of the other woman.

  Somehow the other woman’s very ordinariness had added to the pain of Reilly’s betrayal. Dana had always known that it was her beauty that had drawn him to her. Finding that he’d strayed with a woman of no more than average looks had punched a hole in her self-confidence, threatening the one thing she’d been sure she could offer him. If her looks weren’t enough to hold him, what did she have to offer?

  “You okay?” Reilly’s quiet question broke into her painful thoughts, and Dana lifted her head, staring at him blankly for a moment, marshaling defenses grown nearly impenetrable over the past months.

  She smiled, careful to keep the pain from her eyes. “Fine.”

  Maybe her mask wasn’t quite as good as she’d thought, because the concern in his eyes didn’t fade. He sat up and reached toward her, and she knew that, if he touched her, she would shatter into a million pieces, right here in front of God and half the town of Millers Crossing. Pretending not to see his gesture, she shifted abruptly, putting herself out of reach as she reached into the picnic basket.

  Reilly’s hand stayed suspended in midair for a moment, and then his fingers slowly curled into his palm before he let it drop to rest on the blanket next to his thigh. Funny how it never seemed to hurt any less. No matter how many times she turned away from him, the pain was always sharp and fresh. For the first time, he wondered how much longer he could keep reaching for her, how many more times he could watch her flinch away from his touch.

  His jaw tightened when she pulled a bottle of white wine out of the basket. She’d apparently opened it before packing it, and the cork made a dull thunk as she pulled it from the neck of the bottle.

  “It’s a little early for that, isn’t it?” It wasn’t the first time he’d questioned her drinking, but it was the first time he’d allowed a hint of sharpness to enter his voice.

  Dana’s hand tightened around the bottle. Her eyes were cool and empty when she looked at him. “I don’t think so.”

  Reilly watched her fill a stemmed glass with the pale wine. No plastic cups for his elegant wife, he thought, with a mixture of humor and something that was almost despair. He was going to have to talk to her about the drinking. He’d been trying to pretend he didn’t see it, telling himself that he was worrying over nothing. She didn’t drink and drive, didn’t get falling-down drunk at home, but more and more often there was a subtle glaze in her eyes, a barely perceptible unsteadiness in her movements.

  “Dana…” He waited until she looked at him before nodding toward the glass she held. “It’s not even noon.”

  She raised her brows and made a point of turning her wrist to look at her slim gold watch. “You’re right. Another half hour to go. Shall we synchronize our watches?”

  Dana watched his mouth thin and saw the quick flare of anger in his green eyes, and she felt a wicked little tug of satisfaction. She preferred his anger to his concern. He didn’t have any right to be concerned. He’d forfeited that right when he jumped into bed with that fat, homely bleached blonde. The irony of it was that she didn’t want the damned wine. She’d only poured it because she needed something to do with her hands. Seeing the disapproval in his eyes, she wished she’d just chugalugged it straight out of the bottle.

  She lowered her eyes to the glass, struggling to swallow back the anger that was so quick to rise these days. She didn’t want to be angry with him. She didn’t want to feel anything at all. She lifted her eyes to his face again.

  “Look at it this way. Since alcohol acts as a preservative, you never have to worry about waking up next to a wrinkled old hag.” Her voice was soft, but her smile was sharp as a dagger. “Now there’s an incentive to stay in your own bed.”

  Reilly jerked back as if she�
�d struck him, his eyes startled. It was the first time she’d referred to his infidelity since the night he’d told her about it. She’d told him then that she didn’t want to talk about it ever again, didn’t want it mentioned, and he’d agreed without hesitation, wanting nothing more than to put the whole thing behind them, grateful that she wanted to forget it, too. But neither of them had been able to forget, and for almost a year it had lain between them, naked as an unsheathed sword, always there, never acknowledged. Until now.

  “Dana—”

  Her eyes went past him, and her smile widened, took on warmth. “Oh look, there’s Matt and Jessie. I hope they didn’t have too much trouble finding us.” She lifted her hand and waved to catch their attention.

  Reilly was half grateful for the interruption, half resentful. For an instant he’d seen behind the mask, caught a glimpse of real emotion. He wanted to push for more, but he was afraid of what he might find if he managed to strip the mask away completely. This was neither the time nor the place, he reminded himself as he turned to watch Matt and Jessie approach.

  They were holding hands as if they were…a couple. It took a conscious effort to keep from frowning. Matt and Jessie. A couple. Engaged. Of course they were holding hands—and probably doing a hell of a lot more than that. Jesus, they were probably sleeping together. He didn’t know about Jessie, but he knew for a fact that Matt had a healthy sex drive. During their college years, Matt had sown more than a few wild oats, with the full and enthusiastic cooperation of a succession of willing young women. What were the odds that he wasn’t sleeping with the woman he was going to marry next week?

  The thought of Matt and Jessie in bed together made him acutely uncomfortable. He just couldn’t seem to wrap his mind around this sudden change in their relationship. Matt was his best friend, and Jessie was… Well, in some part of his mind, she was still the little girl he’d first met, all long skinny arms and legs, toffee-colored hair and big brown eyes. He just couldn’t quite see her as a grown woman. Obviously Matt had no problem making that adjustment, he thought, burying the sour edge of the thought in a smile as he rose to greet them.

  Life was just getting too damned complex.

  “Jessie!” At the sound of her name, Jessie turned, swallowing a groan when she saw Pammie Sue Jenkins bearing down on her, rounded stomach leading the way through the crowd gathered around the grassy area that was about to become an impromptu football field. She was wearing a sundress in an eye-searing shade of yellow splashed with royal-blue flowers.

  “I was hoping I’d run into you today,” Pammie Sue said, a little breathless from hurrying in the heat.

  “How are you, Pammie Sue?” No amount of effort could put any real enthusiasm in her tone.

  “I’m fine. We’re fine,” she corrected, smoothing her hand over the bulge of her tummy. She giggled. “Actually, the doctor says he’s never seen a woman breeze through pregnancy the way I do. It’s almost embarrassing.” Her smile was smug rather than embarrassed, and Jessie could feel her own smile growing stiff around the edges.

  “I’m glad everything is going so well.” She glanced at Dana, who was standing beside her, waiting for the game to start. “Do you two know each other?”

  “Yes, of course.” Dana smiled and nodded at the other woman. “It’s been a little while.”

  “Dana.” Pammie Sue’s protuberant blue eyes iced over. “I understand you’re president of the library guild this year.”

  “Shanghaied into it, more or less,” Dana said ruefully. “It’s a shame you had to leave the guild. You know how hard it is to get good volunteers.”

  Pammie Sue laughed, an angry little titter. “No one is more concerned than I am about the future of the library, but I can’t, in good conscience, remain associated with an organization that advocates the purchase of inappropriate reading materials.”

  Inappropriate reading materials? Jessie raised her brows. What had they been buying—porno books? She glanced at Dana and tried to imagine her filling out a requisition for Biker Sluts from Poughkeepsie, but the image just didn’t gel.

  “We were sorry to lose you,” Dana said, sidestepping what was obviously an old argument.

  Pammie Sue sniffed and shifted her attention back to Jessie. Her smile was a little tighter than it had been, her eyes glittering with temper or possibly righteous indignation. “I heard the most amazing rumor, Jessie.”

  “Rumors often are amazing,” Jessie said, then jumped when Pammie Sue suddenly pounced, grabbing her left hand and dragging it forward. Sunlight caught on the diamond in her engagement ring, sending out rainbow sparks.

  “It’s true!” Pammie Sue’s squeal turned heads, and Jessie had to resist the urge to squirm. “You did get engaged.”

  “Yes.” Jessie tugged on her hand, but the other woman’s grip tightened as she pinned Jessie with a look of avid interest.

  “To that luscious Matt Latimer?” Jessie nodded reluctantly, feeling her face warm at hearing Matt described as luscious. It made him sound like an ice-cream cone, which gave her all kinds of ideas she didn’t want to have. Pammie Sue squealed again. “I can’t believe it. I mean, I know you were supposedly friends when we were in school, but he was so much older that it never occurred to me that there was any more to it.”

  “There wasn’t. Then.” Jessie managed to pull her hand free. “We were just friends.”

  “So he came back to town and just swept you right off your feet!” Pammie Sue exclaimed in a voice loud enough to be heard in three counties. “That’s just so romantic.”

  Jessie managed to smile and nod. Romantic wasn’t exactly the word she would use. Confusing. Astonishing. Unbelievable, maybe. But not romantic.

  “I want to hear all about it.” Pammie Sue rested her hands on top of the bulge of her stomach as she leaned forward, her eyes glittering with curiosity. “It’s just so exciting. I mean, here you are, thirty years old and just now getting married for the first time. What with your career and everything, I thought you’d probably never get married. Of course, it would be hard to resist a man as good-looking as Matt Latimer. I always did think those blue eyes of his were just to die for. Not that I’d trade my Joe and our two little angels for anything in the world,” she added hastily.

  She cast a fond look over her shoulder toward her family. The little angels were glaring at each other with such ferocity that Jessie was willing to bet physical violence was only a matter of moments away. Their father was standing nearby, but his attention was fixed on a pretty brunette who was wearing a pair of very short shorts and a halter top that barely covered the legal minimum. Remembering Lurene’s comment about him using olive oil on his hair, Jessie found her gaze drawn to his head in unwilling speculation. Pammie Sue seemed oblivious to both the incipient violence and her husband’s wandering eye, because her expression was as smug as ever when she turned back to Jessie.

  “But being happily married doesn’t make a woman blind,” she said coyly. “And I’ll admit that, before I met my Joe, I wove a fantasy or two around Matt Latimer.”

  Jessie didn’t know whether she should laugh or be offended. The idea of Pammie Sue Jenkins and Matt locked in a torrid embrace, even an imaginary one, struck her as irresistibly funny, but she couldn’t help but think that it was more than a little tacky to tell someone you’d been having fantasies about their fiancé. Then again, maybe Pammie Sue thought she was paying a compliment, like admiring a new pair of shoes or a particularly nice lampshade.

  Rescue came from an unexpected source. Dana touched her arm. “I think they’re finally through arguing all the fine points of the game. We don’t want to miss the kickoff.”

  It wasn’t quite that easy. Pammie Sue said that they would have to do lunch so she could hear all the details of Jessie’s whirlwind courtship. Jessie managed to avoid making a commitment, murmuring vaguely that she would be in touch. And then Dana tugged her toward the field, leaving Pammie Sue, her olive oil–dipped husband and their two furiously quarreling
little angels behind.

  “The day she quit the library guild, we opened a bottle of champagne to celebrate,” Dana said as they wove their way through the crowd that had thickened around the improvised field. “Some of the ladies wanted to burn her in effigy, but we decided it might cause talk.”

  Jessie laughed. She’d known Dana for more than five years, but this was the first time she’d felt anything like real warmth toward her. Then again, it was the first time she could remember Dana showing any warmth in her direction.

  “What sort of inappropriate reading materials did you want to buy?” she asked as they found a spot on the sidelines.

  “Romance novels.” Dana smiled at her look of disbelief. “There’s a real demand for them, and the guild voted to provide ongoing funding to purchase them for the library. Pammie Sue objected strenuously on the grounds that they feature lewd acts between people who aren’t married.”

  Jessie bit her lip, her eyes bright with humor. “So she thinks lewd acts are okay as long as the people involved are married?”

  They both laughed, and Jessie found herself wondering if this was a new and improved Dana, or if this warmth had been there all along and her own jealousy and resentment had blinded her to it. And wasn’t it funny that it had taken Pammie Sue Jenkins to make her see it?

  The football game was a significant part of the picnic tradition. There was nothing formal about it. No uniforms, no referees to throw colored flags on a bad play, no game ring for the winners. Makeshift goalposts marked either end of the playing field, two trash barrels on the north end and the edge of the children’s playground on the south. The players varied from year to year, depending on who attended the picnic and felt like risking life and limb on the field.

  Matt hadn’t planned on playing. He was a long way from the glory days of high school and college, when he and Reilly had made a nearly unbeatable combo of pass receiver and quarterback. He was pushing forty and had a bullet hole in his shoulder. He was too old and decrepit to be prancing around on a football field. None of which explained how he’d ended up standing in the middle of the makeshift playing field, sun beating down on his bare back, adrenaline pumping through him as he listened to Reilly call the play. It was crazy, he was damned sure it wasn’t medically approved, and he was enjoying every minute of it.