“That does sound like fun,” Kendall answered.
“And don’t forget, Casey Anne,” Cynthia said as she continued to rub Jackson’s hair, “I’m bringing my special potato salad.”
“Good. That’s very sweet of you.” Casey Anne smiled at her sincerely this time.
“I know how much Jackson loves my potato salad,” Cynthia cooed as she turned to look lovingly at Jackson.
Suddenly, Jackson stood, nearly causing Cynthia to lose her balance. She quickly rose and stood next to him, putting her arm around his waist. Jackson, looking more uncomfortable than Kendall had ever seen him, said to Cynthia, “Why don’t we go into the kitchen. Wouldn’t you like something to drink?”
“Why don’t we just stay in here, sweetie?” Cynthia then looked directly at Kendall and said, “She can get the drinks. I’ll have an iced tea, dear.”
“What?” Jackson looked at Cynthia with a shocked frown on his face.
Casey leaned forward on the couch and said, “Excuse me?”
Kendall quickly jumped up from her chair, hoping to prevent a scene. “Sure, I’ll be glad to.” She smiled and started toward the door.
“Sit back down,” Jackson commanded her. “You’ll do no such thing.” He then grabbed Cynthia by the wrist and dragged her along behind him. “Come on, we’re going to the kitchen.”
She pouted and followed him, but Kendall heard Cynthia protest as she and Jackson disappeared into the hallway, “But Jackson, she is the maid, for God’s sake.”
Kendall sat down. Casey leaned back into the couch and said to her, “I’m sorry about that. That woman gets quirkier every day.”
“Quirkier?” Tom laughed. “That doesn’t even begin to describe what I just saw.”
Casey elbowed him in the ribs.
“Well,” Kendall stammered, feeling a bit embarrassed, but trying to make light of the situation, “I guess she’s right. It would be the natural thing for her to expect that.”
But Kendall wondered about Cynthia’s last comment as she and Jackson had left the room. Why did Cynthia still think Kendall was the maid here? Casey had set her straight that first day she had met Kendall. Was Jackson telling Cynthia that Kendall was their maid? Was that the explanation required in order to appease Cynthia? How petty of Cynthia to need her ridiculous jealousies mollified. How cowardly of Jackson to feel a need to consider Kendall a maid just to satisfy Cynthia.
Kendall was tempted to get up and go into the kitchen and tell Cynthia and Jackson both that if they felt better by calling her a maid, then that was just fine with her. After all, technically she was a maid, or something of that nature. She certainly wasn’t a family member; she wasn’t even a family friend. She was someone who seemed to have just dropped right into their laps and was doing whatever work she could to justify her stay here. That is, until she regained her memory. Then she would be out of both Jackson’s and Cynthia’s hair permanently.
Though she was thankful for all the Coleys had done for her, Kendall still felt ashamed that she depended on them for her welfare. She felt bad enough being in this situation, but to be explained away as their maid was even more degrading.
Kendall rose from her chair and headed toward the kitchen. Who did Jackson think he was, anyway, ordering her to sit down while he escaped to the kitchen with Cynthia? Was he trying to spirit Cynthia away before she spilled any more secret knowledge of Kendall’s maid status? How dare Jackson tell Cynthia that behind Kendall’s back. If he’d wanted a maid, why hadn’t he just told Kendall that’s what he wanted? She didn’t need to be treated like a child. She remembered what Jackson had told her earlier that day when they’d argued about her receiving weekly paychecks. She didn’t want to be offered money and then placated with a story of her being ‘a member of the household pulling her share of the load.’ She didn’t want his money at all. But if a maid were what she was in his eyes, and what he wanted Cynthia to believe, then a maid she’d be.
Kendall walked into the kitchen and her heart dropped when she saw them. They were kissing passionately. Jackson stood leaning back against the counter. Cynthia, who stood facing him, leaned her body into his. She had her arms around his neck and Jackson held onto each of her arms fiercely, as if the passion had completely consumed him.
Kendall quickly looked away and jerked open the refrigerator door, rattling jars and bottles inside. Jackson immediately broke the kiss with Cynthia. Still holding onto her arms, he moved her to the side and stood away from the counter. He looked over at Kendall in silence as she continued to root around inside the refrigerator. Finally, she raised her head and addressed both Jackson and Cynthia with as much calm as she could muster.
“Excuse me,” Kendall apologized sweetly. “I didn’t mean to disturb the two of you. I just thought you might like to have something to eat along with your iced tea. How about a little late-night dessert? I’d be happy to prepare anything you’d like. After all, that’s what I’m here for.” She smiled at them endearingly as she continued, “There’s some of that pound cake left over. How about that with fresh strawberries and cream?”
“Oh, that does sound good, dear,” Cynthia cooed at her condescendingly.
“That won’t be necessary, Kendall,” Jackson said firmly.
“No? I’ll be sure to clean up afterwards, regardless of how late it is. It’s what any good maid would do. How about just the strawberries and cream then?” Kendall smiled over at them again in such a gracious manner that she nearly felt like curtsying.
“I said that’s not necessary,” Jackson repeated, the muscle in his jaw flexing.
“Oh, but Jackson,” Cynthia whined as she looked up at him adoringly, “I think strawberries and cream would be lovely, especially since I didn’t have dessert tonight at dinner.” She turned then to look at Kendall and said, while smoothing her hands down her hips sensuously, “I have to watch my figure, you know.”
“Well, I’m glad to know somebody’s watching it,” Kendall responded, still smiling.
“Excuse me!” Cynthia stiffened and placed a hand on each hip in a boxer’s stance.
Jackson grabbed Cynthia’s wrist, as he had earlier in the den, and began pulling her toward the back door. He leered over his shoulder at Kendall and said, “Thanks for the offer of the strawberries, but I’ve had about all the syrupy crap I can take for one night.”
He pulled Cynthia onto the porch and closed the door behind them. Kendall heard the screen door slam. She moved to the window and saw Jackson in the moonlight, walking Cynthia toward her car. Kendall turned away from the window. She wanted to escape to her room as quickly as possible, but she couldn’t be rude to Tom and Casey. She returned to the den, where she found them still sitting on the couch, talking quietly.
“Well, I’ll say goodnight now. Sleep well, you two,” Kendall said politely to them.
“Thanks. See you in the morning,” they both chimed in. “And don’t pay any attention to Cynthia. She can be awfully snooty sometimes,” Casey said.
“Yeah,” Tom added, “don’t let her get to you.”
“Oh, she doesn’t bother me,” Kendall lied. “I suppose, as Jackson’s girlfriend, she has every right to expect certain things when she visits here. I’m the one who should have been more gracious.”
With that, Kendall left the room. She entered her bedroom through the front hallway door and sat on her bed. A lot of the new clothes still lay about in boxes and bags. She had intended to put them away before going to bed. The things to be returned were stacked neatly in a corner. She picked up one of the new blouses strewn across the bed – a white silk, with tiny pearl buttons. She held it against her face and cried. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have talked to Jackson and Cynthia like that? She knew seeing the two of them together in an embrace had inspired a tender ache in her heart she hadn’t expected. She had reacted to it like a jealous wife, though, and she had no right. She was ashamed that she had made Jackson feel uncomfortable in his own home by bargin
g in on a private moment he was sharing with his girlfriend.
Regardless of how insulted Kendall might have been or how much she disliked Cynthia, it was Jackson’s home and it was his prerogative if he wanted Cynthia to consider Kendall their maid. And besides, the weekly paychecks certainly confirmed the fact that Jackson considered her a maid. Well, fine, then she would be their maid. It’s the least she could do. After all Jackson had done for her, all that he still continued to do, she should be grateful, rather than behaving like a selfish, unappreciative child.
She thought of last night in her bedroom when Jackson had comforted her after her nightmare. Was her jealous behavior tonight spurred by that? She remembered how Jackson had held her face in his hand and had leaned toward her as if he were going to kiss her. She could still see that look in his eyes, how it seemed to have melted all of her senses. She had wanted him to kiss her, but he had drawn back, had stopped himself.
And now she knew why. He was committed to Cynthia. His heart belonged to Cynthia. Kendall still held the white silk blouse, dampened by her tears. It reminded her of Jackson and how kind he and Casey had been to her when she had nowhere else to turn. And this was how she repaid them? She knew her attitude toward Jackson and Cynthia tonight had only made things more difficult for them. It had made Jackson feel uneasy, and he didn’t deserve that.
Well, it would stop right now, tonight. Kendall would remind herself why she was here. She would remind herself every minute of every hour, if she had to, that she was here because of the kindness and generosity of this family. They owed her nothing. It was she who owed them. The least she could do is continue to help out around here as much as possible and respect the relationship between Jackson and Cynthia. But why did her heart feel like it was breaking?
Jackson stood before Cynthia as she leaned against her car facing him. The dim moonlight made it difficult for him to see the expression on her face. He didn’t want to hurt her. That had never been his intention, and still wasn’t. But he had thought all along that they had understood each other, that they had been in agreement.
“It’s because of her, isn’t it?” Cynthia asked.
“No, it’s not,” Jackson said firmly.
“You’ve had this woman living in your house for weeks, and now you tell me there can’t be anything between us, and you think I’m such an idiot that I don’t know it’s because of her?” Cynthia folded her arms across her chest.
“This has nothing to do with her. There’s never been anything serious between you and me. You knew that from the beginning. We both did, remember?”
“Things change, Jackson.”
“They haven’t changed for me, Cynthia. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but like I tried to tell you in the kitchen, I can’t play this charade with you.”
“It’s not a charade. I care about you,” Cynthia said with a pleading tone.
“And I care about you, as a friend, like we agreed from the start. I told you then and it’s still true for me now, I don’t want a relationship of any kind, other than friendship.”
“We slept together, Jackson.”
“I know.” He breathed deeply. “We both satisfied something each of us felt we needed at the time. I don’t mean to make it sound trivial, but you were the one who said there were no strings attached, remember? I think now it was a mistake that we slept together at all. I’m not saying you’re the one to blame for things getting out of hand. I could have declined. I should have declined, knowing that all we had was a friendship and that it could never be anything else. But you assured me that, after being divorced, you weren’t looking for anything more, either. Now you want to change that. Well, I’m sorry, Cynthia, but I can’t.”
“Why? Because you want to sleep with her now? Or are you already sleeping with her?”
“You know me better than that.”
“Oh? Then why did you grab both of my arms when I tried to kiss you in the kitchen as if the thought repelled you? And when she came into the room, you practically flung me away from you. Actually, I’ve felt you pulling away from me ever since you started sitting with her in the hospital. Do you think I’m so stupid I don’t see what’s going on?”
“There is nothing between Kendall and me, nor will there ever be,” Jackson repeated.
“Kendall. What a joke. That isn’t even her name. God only knows who she is or what she’s after.” Cynthia uncrossed her arms and placed her hands on her hips. “Don’t you even think about that?”
“She’s just in a bad situation right now, and she needs help. It’s the least I can do.”
“The least you can do,” Cynthia sneered. “Well, I think you’re doing a lot more than that, Jackson Coley. I think the reason you want me to keep my hands off of you is because of her. Just look at the way she acted tonight. It’s obvious there’s something going on between the two of you.”
“You’re wrong. How many times do I have to tell you that? How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want anything from her or any other woman right now? No relationship, no commitment, nothing.” Jackson ran a hand through his hair. “Christ, how many times do I have to keep saying it?”
“Maybe until you believe it yourself.”
“Cynthia, let’s stop this, okay? I’ve always been honest and upfront with you. Our friendship is important to me, but I can’t play this little game of yours, pretending it’s perfectly natural for you to fawn all over me as if we were a loving couple. I think you’ve been doing that just because Kendall’s in the house, as if you think you have to show her that you’ve already claimed me as your property. You’ve got to stop that, Cynthia, for two reasons. One, I do not, and you’ve always known this, want to be one-half of a couple. I can’t pretend something I don’t feel just so you can play this little game of yours. And, two, it doesn’t matter what Kendall thinks one way or another. She’s not interested in me and I’m not interested in her. There’s no contest here, Cynthia. So, please, stop all this syrupy behavior. Let’s just go back to the way things were, okay?”
“You want to go back to the way things were?” Her voice held a sudden lilting quality. “Exactly the way things were?” She reached out and gently touched the front of his shirt, toying with a button.
“You know what I mean. I’ve always enjoyed our friendship, Cynthia,” Jackson responded, removing her hand from his shirt. He held it for a moment, then placed it beside her. “But it was unfair of me to sleep with you when I knew there could never be anything more between us. I know you said that’s the way you wanted it, but now I feel like I’ve hurt you, and I never wanted that to happen. I think it would make things even more difficult if we continued to do that don’t you?”
Cynthia turned and opened the car door and sat behind the wheel. She looked up at him and smiled. “You’re probably right. And you’re too important to me, Jackson, to imagine not having you in
my life at all. I want what you want.”
He leaned down and faced her through the car window and smiled. “Still friends, then?”
“Still friends,” she answered as she started the engine. She reached out and touched his face before putting the car in gear, then started down the long road to the highway and home.
Cynthia looked in her rearview mirror as she drove. She could faintly see him standing there in the moonlit darkness, his hand raised in a goodbye wave. She extended her arm through the open window and waved back. She would play along for now, but Jackson was sadly mistaken if he thought she was just going to turn him over to that live-in maid of his. She hadn’t worked this long to let that happen. “Friends,” Cynthia mumbled to herself. “Over my dead body. No, better yet, over Kendall’s dead body.”
Kendall had almost finished putting the clothes away when she heard a knock at her door. She glanced at the bedside clock. It was nearly midnight. She opened the bedroom door that led to the kitchen hallway and saw Jackson standing there, one arm propped against the doorframe. His body was shadowed by t
he lamp that burned in his bedroom across the hall.
“I saw your light on under the door,” Jackson said. “Before I went to bed, I just wanted to say again, like I said this afternoon, that you are not our maid. No one here is trying to make you feel like one, so stop acting like it.”
“You’re right, Jackson, and I’m sorry,” Kendall replied. She studied his face for a moment. It held a look of weary but firm resolve. “I shouldn’t have let her get to me. It won’t happen again.”
“Good. Thank you.” He looked away for a moment, then turned back to her. “Well, goodnight, then,” he said and forced a half-smile.
“Goodnight,” she responded and softly closed the door.
Chapter 10
>For Kendall, the following week seemed like an endless transition of one long day into the next. Jackson rarely spoke to her, except to thank her for a meal or engage in brief conversation while helping her with the dishes. Other than that, he seemed to avoid her at all costs. He was never rude; he just seemed completely indifferent toward her. Kendall certainly had enough to keep her busy, but it wasn’t enough to keep her mind off of him. It ate at her that he had become so distant and aloof. She knew that her behavior the other night was inexcusable, but she didn’t think it warranted this kind of attitude from him.
On Wednesday morning, Kendall headed out to the chicken coop, a bowl of dried corn in her hand. Everyone had disappeared early, even Casey Anne, who had errands to run in town. Kendall stood in the middle of the pen and scattered kernels of corn about as the chickens milled around her pecking at the morsels. She looked over at Sam, who stood listlessly at the corral fence. He was such a beautiful horse and seemed so docile. What would it hurt to just go over and keep him company for a while? Kendall finished dispersing the corn and left the chickens to their feast. She walked into the barn and retrieved an ear of dried corn from the bin, then headed back out to Sam.
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