Still Waters

by Misha Crews

  “Adam, last night was — ”

  “Wonderful, I know,” he finished blithely. “We can revisit it later, but first I want to tell you how I know that I’m in love with you. There are three reasons, actually. First, because my heart jumps for joy whenever I see you. Second, because wherever I am, whatever I’m doing, I can feel you with me.”

  Jenna pressed her lips together, feeling them tremble. It was true for her, too. Wherever she was, whatever she was doing, she felt his presence. It had always been that way. She wanted to interrupt him, but he barreled on.

  “And third… I know I love you because I built this house for you.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “You did what?” She honestly wasn’t sure that she’d heard him right.

  “This house, Jen. I built it for you. You, and me, and Christopher.”

  She looked around, seeing the place with new eyes: its clean lines, beautiful simplicity. The feeling that they weren’t just amongst the trees, but in them and of them. “You did all of this for me?”

  “For us,” he amended. His eyes, which had gone very somber, brightened once more. He sprang out of bed and crossed the room towards her.

  “And when two people are in love, there’s only one thing to do.”

  Jenna was frozen, terrified of what he might be about to say. She tried to speak, but the words would not come. He reached out and took her hand. Then he went down on one knee.

  His towel, already loose, chose that moment to fall from his waist. There he was, stark naked, kneeling at her feet. Jenna tried to avert her eyes, but without much success.

  “Don’t even pretend that you’re not looking,” Adam admonished, “because we both know that in my natural state, I’m too beautiful to ignore.”

  How could she not love this man? She tried to keep a hold on her emotions, to find the strength to stop him. But Adam was grinning from ear to ear, and it was impossible not to return his smile. She found herself grinning back, like a complete idiot in love, and for an instant she forgot that she was about to break his heart.

  “Jenna, will you marry me?” he asked.

  His words broke the spell. The smile faded slowly from her lips. “You know I can’t do that,” she whispered. “I’m engaged to Frank.”

  His face fell. “But you love me,” he said.

  God, how she hated to do this to him.

  She took a breath and let her words out in a rush. “You are a good and decent man, and yes, in many ways I do love you. But Adam, we both know that I’ll always be second to whatever cause you’re fighting for. Right now your fight is here, in Hollin Hills. Once this battle is won, once this place is finished, who knows where you’ll go next? And what if, God forbid, we end up at war with Russia? Are you trying to tell me that you’d stay here, with Christopher and me? Of course not. You’d re-enlist and go off to fight.” She shook her head. “Stupidly enough, that’s one of the reasons why I love you. But it’s also the reason why I can’t marry you. I need a husband, and Christopher needs a father. What we don’t need — either of us — is a crusader carrying his campaign all over the planet.”

  Jenna stopped to catch her breath. There, it was out. She’d said what she needed to say.

  She looked down at his stricken face, felt her heart breaking with his own. Tears glinted in her eyes as she delivered the final blow. “You’re a hero, Adam, but you aren’t my hero. And I’m sorry, but you never will be.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  GUILT IS A SOUL-CRUSHING EMOTION. FOR days after the housewarming party, Jenna could not stop thinking about the look on Adam’s face when she’d turned him down with such thorough savagery. This mess was all her fault. She had known where that night was going, had seen it bearing down on both of them like a freight train. And still she’d done nothing. Nothing, except throw Adam under the wheels and let him be crushed against the tracks.

  Jenna wiped her forehead and sat back on her heels. She was scrubbing the bathroom as it hadn’t been scrubbed in ages. In the days since the party, she had been itching with the need for physical motion: movement, sweat, even the aches and pains of sore muscles. Anything to take her mind off of what she had done. She turned on the bathtub faucets and used an old tin cup to rinse the sides and corners of the tub.

  On the morning following the party, after she had spoken her piece — and trampled Adam’s heart — she’d gotten dressed and left without another word exchanged between them. But the wounded darkness in his eyes had said more than words ever could. It was done between them. Over. Well, she asked herself, wasn’t that what she’d wanted?

  No, she amended. Not what she wanted. What she needed. What they all needed: certainty, reality, finality. He was hurt now, it was true, but he would be better off in the long run.

  Wouldn’t he?

  Yes, he would. And so would they all. She just had to remember that.

  Jenna turned off the water in the tub and pushed herself up. She emptied her bucket into the toilet and flushed, watching dirt swirl away in a vortex of clean water. If only everything in life were that easy. She pulled off her rubber gloves and gathered up her sponge and cleanser, tucking it all in the bucket to take back downstairs. Cleaning house: the symbolism wasn’t lost on her. She was trying to wash away her mistakes, make everything shiny and new, give herself a fresh start. And she couldn’t help but wonder if she should take that idea a step further.

  In the kitchen, she stored the bucket under the sink, then washed her hands. She stared out the back window. There was a thought rolling around in her head, one that made her nervous. Frank was coming home from his business trip in a few days. If she were really re-committing herself to the life that she had planned with him, she should do something to demonstrate that fact. After all, what kind of a life could they have together when she was concealing so many things?

  She had made the ultimate gesture when she had broken with Adam so thoroughly. And now, she needed to tell Frank the truth about herself. Everything, from who Christopher’s father really was to the truth about Maya and Joseph. She knew that she had to do those things in the same way she knew that she had to eat every day or she would surely die. If she did not tell him the truth, their marriage would be dead before it ever had a chance to live.

  Jenna chewed her lip absently. Frank was an unusual man in some ways, and although that was part of what she liked about him, it could be difficult to predict how he would react to things. She knew very little about his relationship with his wife before she had died. Frank had sometimes hinted that Evelyn had been unfaithful. If he found out that Adam was Christopher’s father, that Jenna had in effect cheated on her husband, and her son was the result, what would Frank do?

  It was impossible to answer that question.

  God, if only she had someone to talk to about this. As close as she was to Stella, it was not the kind of thing Jenna felt comfortable sharing with her. For that matter, she wasn’t sure if Stella herself could ever forgive her for concealing something so important, so life-changing. Jenna wasn’t ready to lose her best friend, and she figured that Stella deserved the peace of mind of not knowing.

  Maya. The thought of her flashed into Jenna’s mind, making her laugh briefly. Oddly enough, Maya would be the perfect person to talk to about this: she was neutral, no-nonsense, and she already knew the truth. But of course, the two women weren’t exactly on speaking terms. The last thing Jenna could do was to call and ask her advice on something so personal.

  It left her with very little choice. She had to make the decision on her own.

  Lucien had once said, “If you ever have to choose between doing what’s right and doing what’s easy, do what’s right.” That was as close to advice as Jenna was likely to get on this particular matter.

  Very well. She lifted her chin. She would tell Frank the truth — all of it. And if he couldn’t handle it, at least it would be better for her to know sooner rather than later.

  * * *

  Jenna prepare
d for Frank’s homecoming as if she were planning a military action. Her strategy was simple: she would cook a nice dinner for the two of them and Christopher, after which she would fix Frank a cocktail and put her son to bed. Then she and Frank would chat about his trip while she did the dishes. And after she cleaned the kitchen, the two of them would sit down on the sofa, and she would tell him. Everything. Frank would hear her out, he would forgive her for being deceitful with him, and he would renew his declarations of love. At least, that was the plan.

  “Mommy!” Christopher’s hard-soled shoes came slapping down the hallway. “I dressed myself!”

  Jenna turned from her dressing table, carefully screwing on the back of the diamond earrings that Frank had given her for Christmas last year. She bit back a smile as her little boy ran into the room. He was wearing his favorite outfit of the moment: a baseball costume that she’d made him for Halloween. Last year, his life had been all about cowboys; this year it was baseball. Ever since Adam had given him that set for his birthday, he’d been set on going trick-or-treating as Mickey Mantle. But of course, after Don Larson pitched the no-hitter in the World Series, Jenna had to change the number on Christopher’s jersey from “7” to “18.” Wouldn’t Mickey Mantle be disappointed if he knew!

  “Honey,” Jenna said gently, “I thought I laid out your church clothes for you to wear.”

  Christopher’s little face screwed up in disdain. “But they’re scratchy. Do I have to wear them? It’s not Sunday!”

  “I know, sweetie, but we’re having a special dinner to welcome Frank home tonight.” Looking at her son’s expression, she quickly decided it wasn’t worth it to argue. What she needed above all was a peaceful evening with Christopher on his best behavior. If he was happy in his baseball costume, so be it. “But if you want to wear that, I suppose it’s fine.”

  He looked down at himself uncertainly. “I’m wearing my church shoes,” he said encouragingly.

  Jenna laughed. “So you are. I think you look very handsome.”

  There was a knock on the door. Fritz started barking.

  “He’s here!” Christopher cried and ran for the stairs. “Wait till he sees my jersey!”

  “Chris, let me open the door!” Jenna called after him. She stood up and slipped on her shoes, taking a final glance in the mirror before heading downstairs. Her dress was new: a black velvety-soft wool sheath. The woman in the dress shop had assured her that it was the newest fashion. Jenna thought that Frank would approve; it was elegant, understated, just as he liked her to look.

  Biting her lip, she admonished herself to be courageous and truthful, as Lucien would expect. Then she headed downstairs.

  Ever thoughtful, Frank had brought gifts for her and Christopher. For her, an Hermès’s haut à courroies bag — the very same style that Grace Kelly had been making famous this year.

  “Oh Frank!” Jenna laughed. “You’re the only man I know who would dare to buy a woman a fashion handbag — and who would do such a good job of it!”

  Frank smiled and stroked his mustache with the knuckles of two fingers. “I take it you’re pleased?”

  “Oh yes. Thank you so much!” She looked at her son, sitting cross-legged on the floor and playing with the oversized pieces of the chess set that Frank had given him. Admittedly, a chess set wasn’t the kind of gift most likely to be appreciated by a five-year-old boy, but Christopher was fascinated by the intricate horse head detail on the knight and the parapet shape of the rook. He was appropriately delighted with his gift, and Jenna felt familiar pride wash over her at the sight of her sensitive, precocious son.

  The meal she had planned was simple, but it was one that Frank always said that he enjoyed: steak with a salad and baked potato. Frank looked handsome and happy to be with them. Christopher chattered charmingly about school and how much he was looking forward to trick-or-treating next week. After dinner, Christopher went obligingly to bed, and Frank told Jenna all about his trip while she did the dishes. When she had finished cleaning up, the two of them moved into the living room.

  Jenna sat on the sofa while Frank mixed fresh cocktails. She had decided to tell him about Maya and Joseph first, then explain about Adam and Christopher. She felt strangely confident about the conversation they were about to have. The evening could not have gone better, and although Jenna didn’t believe in signs, she couldn’t help but take it as an encouraging indication that it was time to move forward.

  “Frank, I have something to tell you.”

  “Ah.” He didn’t turn around, but she could hear him smiling. “I thought you might.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  He carried the drinks over to where she was sitting and handed one to her before sitting down. “You radiate,” was all he said. He crossed his legs and looked at her over the rim of his glass. His eyes glinted.

  “I do what?”

  “When you’re excited about something, or nervous, you radiate it like the moon.”

  Jenna sipped her drink. “But isn’t it the sun that radiates?”

  “The sun is a thing of heat and fire. Your glow is cool — a conflagration of ice, if you will.”

  “Very poetic.” She smiled. “Are you sure you haven’t already had too much to drink?”

  “And are you sure that you’re not trying to distract me so I won’t insist that you say whatever it is you have to say?”

  He was as incisive as ever. “Well, it’s just that what I have to tell you is kind of…unusual. It may even be a little bit upsetting. But I’m trusting you to hear me out and not judge too harshly until you’ve heard the whole story.”

  He put his drink down and leaned back. The look he gave her was intent. “Go on.”

  Jenna set her cocktail on the table next to his. She needed a clear head for this next bit. “All right. This starts on the day when Bud died.” She explained how she had found the photo in Bud’s drawer, telling Frank the story as she had told it to Adam all those years ago on the night that Christopher was conceived. She showed him the picture, watching his face as he took in the contents of the photo and all its implications.

  She told him how she had eventually showed the photo to Adam, and he had told her who Maya was. “Well, you can imagine how I felt at that point. This baby was Denny’s, not Bud’s. I went to the last address that Adam had for Maya Sinclair, but she no longer lived there. Instead, I met her brother, Alexander Graves. He was reluctant to take me to her, but eventually he changed his mind. I think it was after we saw him at the ice cream shop.” She explained what had happened. “I honestly do believe that after meeting Kitty, he was convinced it would be all right to introduce me to Maya and Joseph. But whatever the reasons behind his decision, I’m so eternally grateful that he made it.”

  Frank spoke for the first time. His voice was quiet, calm. “And so, have you met this woman?”

  “Yes. I finally met her a few weeks ago.”

  “And?”

  Slowly, Jenna shook her head. “She wants nothing to do with me. She has a good life; she and her son are happy. I can’t blame her for not wanting to risk that just to attempt a reconnection with such a distant relative as myself. I’m not even a blood relation, for God’s sake.”

  “So you don’t anticipate hearing from her or her brother again?”

  “Well, no, although to be honest, it’s my hope that — ”

  “No, Jenna.” He leaned forward. “You mustn’t hope for that. You mustn’t hope or wish for anything more to do with this family.”

  Jenna was taken aback. “But why? They’re good people.”

  “I’m sure they are. But if you ever hear from any of them again, you must promise me — promise me, Jenna — that you will tell me immediately. If you are to be my wife, I need to be able to trust you.”

  Jenna stiffened. “Are you saying that you don’t trust me?”

  “I’m saying that you were wrong to keep this from me. You were wrong to keep such an enormous secret. Anything could h
ave happened to you, and then where would I be?”

  She softened. What he was saying didn’t make sense, but it was sweet nonetheless. “Oh Frank, nothing’s going to happen. Please, you have no reason to fear that I would — that I would — “ She couldn’t bring herself to say it.

  But Frank finished the thought for her. “What? No reason to fear that you would kill yourself the way Evelyn did?” He regarded her with cold analysis. “Perhaps not. Certainly I would think that your attachment to your son would prohibit such an action. But there are other ways to lose someone, Jenna.” His eyes darkened. “Evelyn left me long before she died. I just didn’t realize until it was too late.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that she too had secrets, and eventually they destroyed her.” He took her face in his hand. His touch was gentle, but his manner was severe. “No more secrets, Jenna, do you hear me?”

  This was the time to tell him about Adam and Christopher. Jenna knew it. She could feel the truth hovering in her mouth, waiting to come out. But the intense look in his eyes frightened her. He was so much more fragile than she’d ever let herself believe. Maybe some truths are best left untold. Now that Adam was firmly out of the picture — and she had seen to that very thoroughly, hadn’t she? — there was no reason to burden Frank with the knowledge that Adam was Christopher’s father.

  “All right, Frank. If Maya or Alexander contacts me, I’ll let you know.”

  The vow was as solemn and heartfelt as any she had ever made. And yet she broke her promise the very next day.

  * * *

  Though Jenna had fallen short of the full disclosure she had planned, she woke the next morning with a heart that was lighter for having shared the truth about Denny’s child. After all, Frank loved Bill and Kitty too. He would understand the need to guard the secret. And if it came down to it, she knew that he would grow to support any relationship she developed with Joseph in the future.