Jenna's Eternal Lover

by Jeanne Savery

  Serena shook her head. “You are impossible, Jenna,” but she said it in a mock-scolding fashion. Then she straightened, her mouth firming. “I refuse to believe you are so ill you will die. You will get well again.” She came still nearer and picked up Jenna’s hand, nursing it between her own. “You taught me so much.”

  “You were ready to learn. You wanted to learn. If not I then someone else, would have helped you find the truth.”

  “But it was you. Thanks to you I’ll never forget that love is far more important than anything else that is or can possibly be.”

  “Yes.” Jenna’s gaze shifted to the other side of the bed where, standing with his hands clasped behind his back, the diaphanous figure of her lover nodded, one side of his lips tipped up and his eyes narrowed in that way they had when he was pleased about something. “The most important, whatever sort of love it is.” Jenna’s eyes closed, the lids crinkled like fine old silk crêpe de Chine. “I suppose I have reason to know that more than most.” Jenna’s eyes opened, flicked, again, toward her ghostly lover. Then she yawned, hiding it with her hand and casting an apologetic look toward her visitors. “I’m sorry.” Her eyes flickered closed, open, closed…

  Jenna was nearly asleep when Mary said. “You rest now.” Mary laid her hand on Serena’s shoulder, squeezed gently, very gently urging her away from the bed.

  For a moment Serena’s hands tightened slightly around Jenna’s. Then, with a sigh, she laid the hand carefully alongside the thin body barely rounding the coverlet spread over her. She stared at the sleeping woman. “She won’t die. She won’t,” she whispered and then Serena turned away, defiantly wiping tears from her face. Mary opened her arms and Serena stepped into the older woman’s embrace. “Why?” she asked softly. “Why does she not get well more quickly? It’s been weeks now.”

  Just as softly Mary responded, “I don’t think she will get well this time, Serena. Jenna would tell you that my father has told her that it is her time. That it has finally come.” Mary turned Serena and led her toward the door. “But not quite yet, not quite yet,” she repeated still more softly.

  Once well down the hall and away from Jenna’s room, Serena moved away from Mary and turned. She lifted her chin. “You said your father told her! She thinks she’ll be joining a ghost. She believes in that ghost. Mary, it isn’t healthy, her believing in ghosts. I’ve never understood why you encourage her.”

  Mary grinned, her eyes twinkling. “Well, you see, it’s rather easy to do since I too believe in ghosts. It isn’t a question of encouraging her. It’s a question of accepting that my father is, in whatever form he now has, awaiting Jenna’s spirit, anticipating the joy of hers joining his.”

  Serena stared, her mouth open. She closed it with a snap. “But you must know that is nonsense.”

  Mary shook her head. “No I don’t know it. I cannot make you believe, Serena, or force you to understand. But you mustat the very least accept that Jenna is ready to depart this life for the next. She is ready. She doesn’t want us grieving. At least no more than absolutely necessary because we will have lost her and miss her. That much you can accept? That she is ready?” Mary asked quietly.

  Serena shook her head, biting her lip. She turned away, staring at nothing at all. “I wish I’d known her…before. Before I made such a fool of myself and wasted all those years Rome and I could have had together…”

  “Not wasted, Serena.” Mary waited until Serena turned back, facing her again. “You both grew and matured and became the people you now are. You might not have done so if you’d married at such a young age and, in part, for the wrong reason. And you might never have achieved your dreams of building a school. And now,” said Mary, her eyes flashing with humor, “you have two schools, yours and Rome’s.”

  Serena, not convinced and ignoring Mary’s attempt to give her thoughts a different direction, merely nodded. “Still…even if it was partly for security rather than only the love we feel for each other we’d have been together. If I’d not been such a fool…”

  “Together. As Jenna,” said Mary softly, “wishes to be with her love. With my father. Who has been waiting for her for nearly five years.”

  Serena’s thoughtful look changed to one of something near distaste. “There you go again.” A certain belligerence colored her voice when she insisted, “There are no such things as ghosts.”

  * * * * *

  Roman Trent and Jacob Moorhead, heirs to two of Lord Everston’s properties, followed Verity into Jenna’s bedroom. Carrying a rather heavy load between them, the men moved toward the fireplace where Verity knelt, mending the coal fire and adding charred bits of wood to it. She stood away, watching until the wood caught and then turned toward the bed where Jenna rested, curiosity drawing a frown to mar her age-lined forehead.

  Verity explained. “Rome and Jacob have a piece of this year’s Yule Log and I carried up a bit of last year’s with which to start it.”

  “Ah. The Yule log. For luck. Does that mean we also need to watch and see who comes in first at my bedroom door after midnight on New Year’s?”

  Verity tipped her head to one side, a musing pose. “Are those two traditions related?” she asked after a moment. “The luck one gains by starting the new Yule fire with bits of the old and the luck, bad or good, that depends on who first enters a house in the new year?”

  “Are the traditions connectedin some way?” Jenna’s expression turned to one of mild confusion as she considered. She blinked. “I don’t know. Not that it matters,” she added softly, her eyes turning toward the end of her bed where her ghostly lover sat leaning against the bedpost. She grinned. He grinned back. “Who comes in first this New Year won’t affect my luck.”

  Verity frowned, looking from Jenna toward where Jenna stared at what seemed nothing at all. “You used not let us know when the two of you saw each other.”

  “I suppose I don’t think it matters anymore whether you are bothered by our odd relationship. You all know his lordship is here. Some of you have heard him. In fact you and Jacob did just the other night. I can’t remember if any of you ever saw him? But in any case, why should we hide our love from all of you? You whom we love and who love us.”

  “We don’t talk about him,” said Verity and turned to the two men who, having placed the Yule log and seen it catch fire, stood behind her. “Do we?”

  “Not often anyway,” said Rome. “But I think, in our hearts, we all thank him very much that he saw we matured into what he wanted us to be.”

  “What he believed you could be,” said Jenna, a bit of her old sternness in the words.

  Rome grinned. “Or even what we wanted to be but never really thought it possible. Certainly my dreams have come true.” His smile turned a bit wry. “Poor Father. His didn’t, what he dreamed for me, I mean. Even though he knows how well my school is doing he’s not at all happy I’m earning my living as a mere headmaster.” The smile turned to a grimace. “I suppose it was bad of me to run off to India instead of becoming a vicar as he wished but I couldn’t bear the thought. I’d have been so bad at it. So I ran away, which embarrassed him. Now I’m home and still embarrassing him—or so he claims.”

  Jenna’s head turned toward the lounging Lord Everston. Her brows arched at her lover’s words. “I’ll tell him.” She turned back to Roman. “Headmaster becomes an honored position in the future. Not, perhaps, quite so honored as that of vicar but very well respected. The good headmasters, anyway,” she added, after another brief pause when her eyes turned back to her unseen lover. “And his lordship suggests you remind your father that becoming a good headmaster is far better than being a bad vicar, which you’ve said you believe you’d have been.”

  Jacob shook his head. “I’ll never get used to the notion you communicate with a ghost, Jenna. I’ve heard him myself, was the first of us to hear him other than you but that doesn’t make it easier for us poor mortals to accept.”

  “His lordship means no harm to anyone,” said Jenna
a trifle defensively. “He only wants the best for you. All of you.”

  “Are all ghosts benevolent,” asked Verity, leaning back against her husband. He put his arms around her, one hand covering her rounded belly where their third child kicked, impatient to join his brother and sister in the nursery. “Ghosts don’t have a, umm, reputation for goodness,” she added.

  Jenna looked toward Mel. After a brief pause she turned back and shook her head. “Not all are benign.” She looked sad for a moment before smiling again. “I don’t think you need worry about such sad souls.” Again she glanced toward the end of the bed and, after a moment, nodded. She turned back to her guests. “Only occasionally and then usually after a sudden, violent and unexpected death do such remain behind to bedevil mortal-kind.” Her jaw tightened, holding back a yawn.

  Roman eyed her and then whispered to the others. Verity nodded. “We are tiring you, Jenna. Later, we all mean to come up for a brief visit. After our Christmas Eve dinner but before we go to the church for the midnight services. We’ll leave you now to rest.”

  Each, in turn, leaned down and kissed Jenna’s forehead. The men heard a spectral growl. Rome looked startled and perhaps a trifle fearful but Jacob, who had been scolded by his ghostly granduncle until he reformed, grinned. He shook his finger in the general direction of the diaphanous figure only Jenna could see. “Don’t begrudge us a kiss of peace, Uncle.”

  Jenna chuckled. “He’s just jealous that you can touch me and he can’t. Very jealous man, your uncle.”

  “A possessive man you mean,” teased Jacob. “Come along Rome. Patrick planned a billiards match for this afternoon and I saw him and Terrance going off to begin the first match as we came up. We’ll be late for our turn if we don’t move.” He sobered, looking down at his wife’s aunt. “Rest, Jenna. We don’t want to lose you.” He held up his hand when she’d have objected to his comment. “We know. We even understand. That doesn’t make it easier for any of us.”

  Jenna nodded. But then she looked at her dead lover and her eyes lit up, a beautiful smile crossing her tired face. Still smiling she leaned more deeply into the cushions supporting her and closed her eyes.

  “She does that more and more often,” said Verity softly. “Falls asleep like that in a mere instant. I worry that the time will come when she doesn’t wake up.”

  “You know the time is coming,” said Jacob in her ear. “We all know. As I said, knowing makes it no easier.”

  The three watched Jenna for a long moment and then, quietly, left the room.

  Jenna, hearing the door close, opened one eye, assured herself she was alone and turned to smile at the figure waiting for her death. Waiting to take her into his arms again. Waiting…as she waited.

  Not long, Jenna. Not so very long now. Not when you think how long it’s already been.

  * * * * *

  That evening, just before going down to dinner, Patrick Tomlinson and his wife, Lady Kathryn came to Jenna’s room. They looked in and seeing that Jenna was awake, they entered.

  “How very lovely you look, Kathryn,” said Jenna.

  “Everyone says so but I can’t think why I should look any different from usual,” responded Kathryn.

  She doesn’t know she’s increasing, said Mel, surprised.

  Jenna, hearing him, smiled but didn’t reveal the secret. “Nor can anyone else think why. Perhaps you are always lovely?” she teased.

  Kathryn frowned. “Nonsense. I have never pretended to be beautiful. I’m not.”

  Jenna chuckled at such misplaced modesty but let it go. She turned to Patrick. “Is the writing going well?” she asked.

  “Since my first book was published I’ve been so busy answering letters and responding to articles in the journals concerning my admittedly controversial interpretation of the Rosetta Stone’s languages that I have been unable to do more than begin my next project,” said Patrick ruefully. “I never meant to rouse such a storm.”

  “And I’ve been no help,” admitted Kathryn. “My new stables are so much nearer London I cannot seem to avoid a constant stream of visitors all hoping to find just the right sprightly well-trained mare or promising youngster for a young but coming rider or they want a staid old plodder for an older relative requiring that sort of well-trained mount. Poor Patrick must constantly interrupt his work to play host to new arrivals.”

  Jenna smiled. “Perhaps it interrupts his work but I suspect he rather enjoys the company.”

  A bit of color appeared in Patrick’s face. “I do. Very much. But I sometimes wish they would come in larger batches and then that there was time in between such arrivals rather than coming in ones and twos so very often. But a discussion of Katty’s stables and my writing is not why we came. Jenna, you and my ghostly relative were totally responsible for the fact our love turned out as it did. Without you I cannot think how we’d have managed. And then your help when she was kidnapped by her uncle, when he wished to force her into marriage with her cousin…” Patrick paled and his hand tightened so fiercely around Kathryn’s she winced. “Well, you know how badly that might have turned out even if our previous marriage in Scotland made it impossible for her to wed another. Her uncle might have…” If anything he became still more ashen. “He might have hurt her badly once he discovered he’d be unable to get his hands on her fortune to save his own.”

  “But as I understand it, he couldn’t have used her fortune in any case,” said Jenna.

  “True but he didn’t know that when he laid his plots.”

  “And his son? How does your cousin manage?” asked Jenna, turning to Kathryn.

  “Cousin James has become another sort of man altogether now his father has disappeared. One only hopes the earl stays permanently abroad.”

  “If James manages to clear his father’s debts, as he is determined to do, word of it might bring the man home,” warned Jenna after listening to words only she could hear. “Mel says it might be wise if James asks such creditors as he manages to pay off if they will not air that fact to others and explain why, so those he’s satisfied don’t get the wrong idea and think he hopes he’ll not have to pay off everyone.”

  “More good advice,” said Patrick. He glanced around the room but, of course, couldn’t see Jenna’s ghostly lover. “We will suggest it to James the next time we see him.”

  Kathryn tugged at his hand. “Not only are we tiring Jenna, Patrick but we’ll be late for dinner if we do not go down quickly. Jenna, what we really wanted was to tell you how much we love you. How much we appreciate the help you gave us in our time of need. You and his lordship, of course,” she added. She too looked for a diaphanous figure she could not see. She sighed. “I know he is here somewhere. Thank him for us.”

  Jenna smiled. “You’ve already done so, my dear. Hurry now. You’ll not want Lady Mary’s cook upset, fearing something he’s timed to perfection will be ruined by having to hold it back!”

  The young couple smiled broadly. “Lady Mary and Prince Rube would not approve of losing the man, would they? They had such difficulty convincing him to join this ménage when they are gone so often and for so long.”

  “But when he only had me to feed he had a totally free hand to experiment. They finance him when he needs some exotic ingredient for a particular recipe and he is writing a book about cookery. In it he’s revealing how he produces such wondrous combinations of flavor and texture. Not that he means to publish it. Or not while still alive, he says, since he has no desire for all and sundry to mimic his expertise.” Jenna made a shooing motion. “Off with you. You’ll not wish to be late for your own sakes! He’ll have produced a very special feast for tonight.”

  The two backed toward the door. “We’ll come see you before we’re off to church for the midnight service,” they said and disappeared.

  Once dinner was over, not only the family came to Jenna’s room. With them were the vicar and his wife who had been among Lady Mary’s dinner guests.

  The vicar approached the bed.
“I’ve brought you communion. Lady Mary informed me you’d not be attending services this evening, Mrs. Jennings and I thought perhaps you’d like that?”

  Jenna smiled. “Thank you,” she said. She listened to the vicar’s softly spoken words, nodded at the right time and opened her mouth when told to do so. When the vicar stepped back, the others came closer. “We all love you very much,” said Mary, her arm through Rube’s, leaning her head against his shoulder.

  “You know I love all of you too,” said Jenna. She glanced to the side. “So does his lordship,” she added, smiling. Then she glanced at the vicar whose eyes widened. “You mustn’t think me insane, Reverend Venning. The family understands exactly what I mean.”

  “But…”

  “But you think I speak with ghosts? One ghost, that is,” she amended and grinned.

  “Don’t tease the poor man,” scolded Lady Mary, the eldest of those around the bed. “He hasn’t known you as long as we have.”

  The vicar nodded, once again smiling happily. “You would say she jests with us. I have always thought Mrs. Jennings’ sense of humor was quite delightful.”

  The others looked at each other. Several throats were cleared but before anyone could say anything, Jenna chuckled. “I have always believed humor a very important part of life. It is one of the things that makes us human, you see.”

  The vicar nodded. “Oh yes.” Setting aside his momentary unease, he brightened, always most comfortable with intellectual give and take. “Humor and our ability to speak.”

  “And the love we can feel for more than just the people important to us,” offered Lady Mary.

  The vicar tipped his head. “You would say a love that differs from that of man and wife or mother and child or even the sort of love that, for instance, a dog gives a beloved master?”

  Lady Mary nodded. “Humans can love an idea, a concept, if you will. For instance…“ She thought for a moment. “Our homeland is an example of what I mean, is it not? We all love that, do we not?”