by Faye Sonja
Jedediah pulled his head back slightly. "You're so beautiful Susan, how can you ever love a man like me?"
Susan lay there for a little while, chewing over his words. "He must think me to be awfully shallow," she thought, with sorrow. She was sorry now for every time she had commented on the fixtures of the house, or her tatty clothes, or made jealous remarks about how nice Mollie's house was. Yes, she liked nice things, but she would never be so shallow as to reject a man over a few scars.
"Jedediah, you earned this scars, fighting." She sat up on her elbows now. "Please don't think that I judge you for them, or that I can't see past them."
He pulled away even further. "You can't see past them though." His voice was deep and gravelly; there was a catch in his throat as he spoke. "You're always pestering me to go to see Isabella about them. Brought home that magical potion that you smashed that day..."
Susan almost burst out laughing at that description of the pink ointment Isabella had given her, and she had to bring a hand up to her mouth to conceal herself. She knew very well that this was no laughing matter, but it still amused her sometimes, how superstitious her husband could be. "Jedediah..." she said, gently, taking her hand away from her mouth, so that she could hold his hand instead. "That wasn't a magical potion, and it wasn't going to make your scars magically disappear..."
He looked at her, in what she could have sworn was dismay. "It wasn't?"
She shook her head, searching his eyes, as the candlelight flickered behind them. "No...nothing can do that, my love."
"Oh," he hung his head again, and gripped her fingers tightly between his. "Huh. Can't say if I'm disappointed or relieved." He looked away from her again, and Susan searched his handsome face, wanting desperately to know what he was feeling. Was he really disappointed? All this time, did he think that the doctors held some magical cure that would take the scars away instantly?
And if so, why had he refused to visit them?
She kept gripping his hand, waiting for him to speak in his own time. "Jedediah?" she eventually asked, as it seemed like he had disappeared to somewhere faraway.
"I thought that you got that ointment for me so that the scars would disappear. So that I would look better." He cleared his throat. "Look normal. Attractive to you." He finally brought his gaze back to Susan, who was looking at him with sad eyes. She hated that he would feel that way, like she was trying to 'fix' him or turn him into something he wasn't.
"Jedediah, I wasn't trying to change you, or to make you normal, or however you want to put it." She gripped his hand more tightly. "The ointment was only to try to make the pain sting less. To make your life a little more manageable. It wasn't me trying to fix you." She gazed up into his eyes. "Why would I need to fix something that isn't broken?"
He looked down. "I'm not exactly perfect, Susan."
Susan had to let out a little laugh, as that was true enough. Sure, Jedediah could be stubborn, and secretive, but he was kind to her, and tried his best to look after her, even if he didn't always go about things in the best way. "Well, you're perfect enough to me. With scars or without them. In fact," she said, still gripping his hand so tightly that her knuckles were turning white. "I think your scars make you all the more perfect."
He leant over and kissed her on the head, happy to hear her say those words. He held her tight, and promised her with a voice strong and unwavering, "If you don't want me to hunt in those woods anymore, Susan, I won't do it. You have my word on that, sweetheart."
* * *
8
Good News, Bad News
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“ Please God, let me find a way out of
this mess I have created for myself.”
.
Two Weeks Later
It was the day Susan had been longing for, as she skipped into town joyfully to collect that week's newspaper. She almost ripped the pages apart in her hurry to find what she was looking for, as she frantically turned the pages over till she found the fiction section. There it was, her story, about a woman's trip into the wilderness.
She read over it hurriedly, her eyes barely able to take in the words, she was in so much excitement. "Oh, I can't wait to take this to show Mollie," she thought, almost jumping up and down she was so giddy.
There was a little tug in her heart though, as she started to climb up the hill, as the person she really want to share her news with was Jedediah. "I know Mollie will be pleased for me, and I can't wait to see the look on her face as she reads it, but..." she stopped as she reached the edge of the hill. Turn left, and she would be headed towards Mollie and Thomas's large homestead that stood at the top. Turn right, and she would be headed towards the edge of the hills, where Jedediah would be working.
She took one step up the hill, then stopped. Before she could change her mind, she quickly buried the paper in her satchel, before she took off right, headed towards the hills.
Part of her was anxious as she walked, and not just because of the newspaper story. Even though Jedediah had promised to stop hunting, she was nervous that when she arrived at the wood chopping site, that she was only going to find one man there - Kit - and not two. She held her breath a little as she rounded the corner, praying to God that she would find two men standing there chopping wood, not only one.
At the trees loomed up ahead, Susan looked out and released her breath at the same time, in a startled little gasp. Only one man. She squinted, to make out the figure, and she could see, even at that distance, that the man only had one arm. Kit.
Her heart sank. When Jedediah had left the house that morning, he'd promised her he was going to work. And if he wasn't here, helping Kit - like he was supposed to be - then there was only one other place he could be. He must have been hunting.
"I can't believe he lied to me," Susan thought, clutching her satchel, as tears sprang to her eyes. "And just as I was coming up here to share my own secret with him. Turns out I can't trust him at all." She was just about to turn around, to head back to Mollie's place, when she saw a second figure step out from behind a tall thick pine tree.
"Jedediah," Susan realized, guilt instantly flooding her. She hated that she'd been so quick to jump to conclusions, so hasty to distrust her husband. She bowed her head and took a deep breath as she walked towards the two men. Kit spotted her first and waved and called out, as Jedediah looked up in surprise.
As she curtseyed to Kit, Jedediah came over to greet her. "This is a nice surprise," he said warmly, his eyes sparkling as he looked down at his beautiful wife. "What are you doing out here, my love?"
Still a little nervous, she reached around to undo the buckle on her satchel. "I have something to show you, actually."
"Oh, what's that?"
She reached into the bag and with trembling fingers she handed the paper over to Jedediah. He frowned, asking her why he needed to take a look at it right then. "There's a story, a few pages in, that I thought you might be interested in," she explained, blushing a little.
Kit looked on curiously as they spoke, though he tried to pretend like he was fully occupied with his work. As Susan watched him, chopping the logs with only one arm, she felt even more glad that Jedediah had decided to give up the fur trade. "If not only for our sake - and the animals' sakes - it seems like this decision will benefit Kit as well," she thought. "He looks as though he is struggling to work with only one arm, and now Jedediah will have time to help him out properly. Relieve some of the burden." Yes, now she was certain they'd made the right decision. She looked away, smiling, to watch Jedediah, his brow furrowed as he read the story.
She waited, her heart pounding, for him to reach the end of the story.
"Well?" she asked, as she finally looked up. "What did you think of it?"
He turned the paper over in his hands, his face blank. Her heart was still pounding as he spoke. "I think it's a wonderful story," he
said. He leaned on his axe as he looked at her with curiosity. "But I am perplexed 'bout why you wanted me to read it." He frowned. "Couldn't it have waited till I got home?"
Susan danced on her tiptoes for a second. "Oh, did you really like it?"
He nodded. "It was entertaining. Exciting. Raced right through to get to the end." He stopped and considered it for a moment. "That women who wrote it got real talent," he said, nodding to himself.
Susan was so happy that she was about to blurt out what she'd come there to reveal to him - that she was the writer of the story, but just as she was about to speak, Jedediah added something. "Of course," he added casually, "I'm just glad I'm not married to a woman like that in the story."
Susan stopped. "A woman like that?" she asked, catching sight of Kit watching them, peering over his shoulder. She shifted her weight to balance herself as she placed both hands on her hips. "What do you mean you wouldn't want to be married to a woman like that, Jedediah?"
He shrugged, pursed his lips. "She seems awful wild, wandering off like that, for one thing." He shook his head. "I'm just glad you're not that silly, Susan, to go off on your own like that. I'd never stop worrying about you." He glanced down at the paper again. "And it's not just that. It's the way she told the story, I suppose. Alright for a young single woman, I suppose, one of those modern sorts. But not a married women. It ain't right for a wife to write about her experiences in such colorful language..."
Susan felt herself go red. She hadn't thought there was anything too extraordinary about the language she'd used and she felt ashamed that Jedediah thought that. She stumbled over her words as she tried to defend the writer, without giving herself away. "Well, I think her language was perfectly appropriate. And what's wrong with a women being a writer, anyway!" She snatched the paper back and shoved it in her bag, sorry she'd even come up there to show him.
"I should have just shown it to Mollie, like I'd originally planned," she thought, bitterly, heat rising up her body, so that she could feel it reaching her neck. She reached up to scratch at her collar, flustered now, trying to hold the tears back from falling, as Kit looked away, trying to pretend he wasn't noticing the scene.
"Susan, what's wrong?" Jedediah asked. "Why are you taking this criticism so personally? It ain't got nothing to do with you..."
"Never mind," she said, turning on her heels, as she headed back down the hill, stumbling a little as she went. But the last thing she needed was the embarrassment of falling into the dirt, so she stopped and steadied herself as she headed back down the hill, holding her head high as she kept a steady pace, only allowing the tears to fall down her face once she was sure she was out of Jedediah's line of sight.
But as she got to the edge of the hill, and turned the corner, now out of sight of the two men, she didn't cry. Instead, she shook her head and took a few short, sharp breaths. "I'm not going to head to Mollie's house after all," she decided.
She was going to head into the woods.
* * *
9
Jedediah’s Realization
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“ Please God, let me find a way out of
this mess I have created for myself.”
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Jedediah was left scratching his head as Susan stormed off, down the hill, out sight. "Now what was all that about..." he murmured, shaking his head. He turned back to Kit and shrugged. "Why'd she react like that?"
Kit cleared his throat a little, still chopping against the base of a tree, but without much vigor. "I think she wanted you to react a little more positively to that story," he said gently.
"Eh?" Jedediah said, still scratching his head. "I was positive about the story!"
Kit laughed a little. "Not so positive about the writer, though."
"Well, why does that matter? Susan doesn't know the author of the piece, does she? Can't see what she went and got so upset over." He picked up his axe again and started to chip away at the base of a tree.
Kit sighed. "I think she does know the author, son," he said, raising an eyebrow. "And I think you know her as well."
Jedediah frowned. "Do I?" He pulled a face, furrowing his brow. "Nah, don't think I recognized the name..." he kept pondering as he chopped away absentmindedly. "Susan don't know her either, I don't think."
"Jedediah, you daft fool," Kit said, shaking his head. "The author IS Susan."
Jedediah opened his eyes wide, dropping the axe to the ground besides him. "Oh..." he said, gazing back down the hill. "Oh, so that's why she was so upset. Oh, Kit, I've been so stupid. Look what I've gone and done now."
* * *
"I'll show him," Susan thought, as she hitched up her skirt and began to stalk her way through the woods, branches scratching against her face as she went. "He doesn't want a woman like that for a wife? Well, he's going to get one! The next story I write is going to be even more extraordinary. If he doesn't like it, then, that is just tough!"
Still fuming, from hurt as well as embarrassment over her husband's words, she reached down for her satchel and pulled her pen and paper out. There was an old over turned log up ahead so she traipsed over to it and sat down. "Perfect," she thought, admiring the scenery. Her mind swam with the beginnings of a new story, of a woman who went out exploring in the woods and never came back again, and her pen flew across the paper as she struggled to keep up with the ideas that came to her.
She stopped to stretch her wrist out and winced a little at the cramp that had formed there. "Time for a little break," she thought, as she stood up to stretch her legs and back as well. The sun was breaking through the tops of the pine trees, inviting her to come for a walk, to explore the area. She glanced back over her shoulder at her bag and notebook, deciding that it would be okay to leave them there for a short time. "I'll just go for a brief wander - maybe only five minutes or so!" she decided, as she took off North.
Five minutes turned to ten, then to twenty, as Susan found herself in a familiar clearing. She looked down and saw that the blood, fresh the week before, was now brown and dry. She gulped, glancing around, wondering if she'd wandered too far. She pushed the tip of her shoe forward, so that it brushed over the dry, brown blood. "Did I really do the right thing? Asking Jedediah to give up hunting?" Though it pleased her that no more blood would be spilt, she also felt guilty. "After all, Jedediah just told me I ought to give up my job, more or less, and I didn't like how that felt one little bit."
She heard a growling noise, and snapped her neck around, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling up. "Oh, I should have listened to Jedediah..." she thought. "Maybe he was right all along, there really are scary things out here. I've been even more stubborn than him, trying to prove a point by coming out her on my own."
She turned back suddenly, violently, twisting her leg as she went, he ankle catching between two fallen branches. She cried out as she tumbled down, pain shooting all the way from her foot to the top of her leg.
She looked down at her swollen ankle. She tried to move it but, immediately, she winced in pain and had to keep it still.
This time, she wished more than anything that Jedediah was out here to save her. How she wished she'd never made him promise to give up his work. Now, that promise could end up costing her her life. "What if I perish out here, without ever telling Jedediah the truth?" she thought, clasping her ankle, thinking she might pass out from the pain. "He was only trying to look after me, by hunting. Even his lies were only to protect me. I just need to see him again, get back to him, so that I can tell him I understand. I forgive him."
She wasn't sure how long she was on the ground for, as the pain shooting through her leg kept causing her to drift in and out of consciousness. Every time she came around, she had the same thought. "Why did I have to go and run off like that?" She wished she'd given Jedediah a chance, wished she'd been honest about the fact she was the author of the story.
Wished she'd been honest about a lot of things.
As the loud roar ripped through the forest, she had just one last thought. "Please God, give me a second chance."
Her eyes opened groggily, the pain in her leg almost numbed now by the swelling, and she thought she could see the shadow of someone, weaving in and out of the trees, fifty meters away, too far for the figure to have seen her. She heard the shot of the riffle ring out through the woods, and the sound echoed in her ears.
"No..." she thought, "He promised me...promised me he was done." She watched as the shotgun was cocked, then fired again, then dropped to the ground.
The figure spun around and Susan had both her fears and hopes realized at the same time. It was Jedediah all right, and he had killed the bear. He raced over to her and Susan wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or horrified.
"Susan..." he gasped, and picked her up, but this time, she wasn't about to let him. She kicked at him with her good foot, told him to get away from her.
"I don't need your help this time, Jedediah. I can pick myself up." But as she tried to push down on the ankle a shooting pain overtook her and she had to lay back down. "I just need a little time," she said stubbornly, as Jedediah tried to lift her and she kicked him away again.
"Susan why are you acting like this?"
"Because!" she said, pointing towards the direction he'd sprinted from. "You're back out here again, hunting! Just like you promised not to do!" She wasn't sure whether the tears that sprang to her eyes were from the pain in her foot, or the disappointment she felt.
"Susan, stop being silly," he said, reaching under her again. "You can't walk on your own, for one thing. Secondly, I came here to chase after you, didn't I? I knew you would be in trouble, coming back here by yourself, with no protection. "
