“Of course. Come in, Ms. Bateman. Has the service ended?”
“Just now.”
“I’m sure others will be along. I’m Amanda LaPierre, Emma’s aunt.” She stood back so Jennie could enter. “May I take your coat?” She turned to hang the coat in a closet near the door. “I become rather emotional at funerals—a bad trait for one my age—so I volunteered to watch the house…Would you like something to drink? We have hot tea and coffee. Wine too, if you want to start before noon.”
“Tea would be wonderful, with cream if you have it.” She shivered. “It’s so cold today.”
Jennie walked into the dining room and peered through the window. Drizzle had begun to fall.
Ms. LaPierre brought the tea. “With cream, like a good Englishman. Thomas always takes cream in his tea.”
“I know. I learned to drink it this way when he and I…” Jennie caught herself.
Emma’s aunt did not appear to have heard her. She sipped from her cup and they stood in silence for a moment.
“I feel so out of place.” Jennie glanced around. “I think this was a bad idea. I’ll call—”
“Nonsense, the children will certainly want to see you.”
“Ms. LaPierre, I’m…”
“I know who you are, dear. Emma and I were very close. She wrote about you a number of times, and I recognized your name.”
“I don’t want to intrude…”
“It’s amazing how one’s feelings can change dramatically over time, don’t you think? Why, when she first wrote about you, she seemed to think you were the devil, herself, interfering with Thomas and his children after so many years. Then she became very fond of you…”
Jennie’s face must have showed her surprise because Ms. LaPierre stopped suddenly. “I’m so sorry. I’m an old woman and at times there seems to be a direct link between my mind and my mouth. My mother was the same, and I swore I would not be like her when I grew old, but…” She shrugged. “Anyway, Emma liked you very much.”
“Thank you. I liked her too.”
The sound of the clapper rang through the house and they both jumped. Ms. LaPierre shook her head.
“Why can’t they have a bell like the rest of the world? Excuse me.”
A few moments later, she returned with three women.
“Ms. Bateman, I’d like you to meet Cecelia Cross, Helen Brown, and Christine Mixon. They were all friends of Emma’s.”
“And Thomas too,” Cecelia added quickly. “He and I go way back, before he really knew Emma and…” She paused as if she had thought better of what she had intended to say. “The two of them were perfect together.”
Ms. LaPierre brought tea and no one spoke while she poured it and offered cream and sugar.
Cecelia sipped hers. “Poor man. Losing his wife after only three years of marriage and being saddled with a newborn to care for. I would certainly expect a quick turnaround, wouldn’t you?” Her eyes roamed the room, seeming to expect agreement from the others. The two women who had arrived with her nodded, but Ms. LaPierre glanced away.
Jennie offered no response either. And she doubted Thomas considered himself to be “saddled” with the baby.
“Four grown daughters and a newborn.” One of the other women shook her head. “I’ll bet he wishes they’d been more careful.”
The three women tittered.
The third woman spoke now. “Good to know he can still…”
“I’d think Thomas would be quite capable of caring for a child,” Jennie said.
“As capable as any man is, I suppose. My former husband, Edward, bless his heart, he had all of the best intentions when it came to caring for our children, but, for the life of him, he couldn’t put a diaper on correctly or warm a bottle.” Cecelia shook her head. “No, a baby needs a mother.”
The one named Christine raised her eyebrows toward Cecelia. “So you’re going to volunteer to help Thomas out?”
“Of course.” Cecelia giggled. “I’ll be available when he needs someone. When he needs help, he’ll find my hand reaching out to assist him—however I can.”
“Wife number three?” Helen Brown smirked.
“Humph.” Ms. LaPierre stood and slipped out of the room.
Jennie watched her go and felt embarrassed the women were discussing Thomas’s third wife, not to mention the making of the baby, in front of Emma’s aunt.
Cecelia fixed her eyes on Jennie. “Why are you here rather than at the cemetery with the family?”
“Oh, I’m not family.”
Cecelia gave a small smile. “Come now, Ms. Bateman. You were once introduced to me as the mother of Thomas’s children, so surely you were his first wife, were you not?” Her face appeared completely innocent. While she seemed familiar, Jennie did not recall being introduced, but she did recognize her as one of the women who had stared at her as she had entered the church.
“Of course we were married, Ms. Cross, but I’m no longer a member of his family.”
“You came to gloat, perhaps?”
Jennie’s mouth fell open and she stared at Cecelia.
“We all saw you this morning, sitting with the family, hanging on Richard Lindsay’s arm.” Her smile reminded Jennie of the one the big, bad wolf had flashed at Red Riding Hood. “The once and future wife, you are thinking, perhaps?”
Jennie felt her face becoming warm and she knew she was blushing. She had known people would think it, but she could not believe Cecelia was saying it to her face.
“I…I came to the funeral because Emma was my friend. My children asked me to come. Emma’s daughter asked me to come. I came to…”
Cecelia Cross laughed. “To console the grieving husband? Very noble.”
“Ms. Bateman? Can I call you Jennie?” Ms. LaPierre entered the dining room carrying a tray of sweet rolls.
Jennie turned, happy for the interruption. “Certainly.”
“I have some more of these in the oven, could I ask you to watch them for me?”
“I’ll be happy to help.” Jennie gave Ms. LaPierre a grateful smile. “Excuse me, ladies.”
As Ms. LaPierre led the three women into the family room, each with tea and a roll, the clapper echoed out again.
Jennie pulled an apron over her dress and peeked in the oven. Almost ready.
Soon the house began to fill with people, but Jennie stayed in the kitchen. I’m just helping Emma’s aunt, she silently told herself. I’m not hiding…Not exactly.
Once, when she replenished the coffee pot in the dining area, she heard Cecelia’s voice float from the next room.
“Well she’s certainly trying to be family. Hopes to slip in, unnoticed. Maybe Thomas will forget the past and latch on to her again. Any port in a storm, you know.”
Another woman spoke, but Jennie could not hear what she said because of the laughter.
“Keep it in the family, you know.” Cecelia’s reply was greeted with more laughter, and Jennie wheeled around and returned to the kitchen. She peeked at the clock. Shouldn’t the burial be completed by now? The sooner Thomas and the girls returned home, the sooner she could leave.
Jennie was brewing iced tea—Southerners drink iced tea at meals regardless of the weather—when the sounds coming from the front of the house suddenly changed. Ms. LaPierre stepped into the kitchen.
“They are home. I’m going to shoo the guests out so the family can have something to eat in peace.”
Jennie removed her apron. “Let me just speak to Thomas and the children and I’ll be on my way.”
“I didn’t mean you, my dear.”
“But I do need to leave. I have a long drive ahead.”
She found the four girls clustered in Thomas’s upstairs office. Tasha stood as Jennie entered.
“Ms. Bateman, thank you so much for coming.”
“I couldn’t stay away. I liked your mother very much.” Jennie hugged Tasha, receiving no response.
“I need to check on Dad.” Tasha left immediately, closing th
e door behind her.
Jennie hugged each of the others.
“Your eulogy was wonderful.” She placed a hand on Alexis’s shoulder. “I cried. I completely understand why Emma kept it in that folder.”
“Thank you.” Alexis wiped her eyes. “So silly. I’ve been crying off and on all day…I was afraid it would seem stupid. You know, a little girl’s essay.”
“No. It was wonderful. You were so lucky to have Emma.”
Christa smiled at that. “I remember when it made you angry to hear one of us say her name.”
Jennie nodded. “It did. I finally grew up.”
She put her arm around Amy now. “I’m so sorry, honey.”
“Thank you, Aunt Jennie. I guess you’re going to have to be everyone’s mother now.”
Jennie hugged Amy tightly. “I’ll do my best, sweetheart. I’ll do my best.”
They talked for several minutes, until Jennie announced she needed to get on the road. “Ms. LaPierre is ready to have dinner, and I need to see your father before I leave,” Jennie said. “Let’s get together in a couple of weeks, after you’re back at school. Come to my house. I’ll bring in pizza. Then we’ll bake cookies and talk all night.”
“We’ll stop by for you,” Christa told her sister.
“And invite Tasha,” Jennie reminded them.
She left the office and peeked into the breakfast room, finding Thomas staring out at the garden. It was not much to look at in midwinter, evergreen shrubs and empty beds where flowers would bloom later in the year.
“Thomas? I need to start home.”
He turned slowly, a preoccupied expression on his face, the faraway countenance of someone who is not sure where he is or what is happening.
“I’m so sorry, Thomas,” Jennie continued. “I liked Emma so much, and I know the girls loved her…I know you did too. Your eyes sparkled every time you saw her.”
“Yes.” He nodded slowly. “Yes, I did.”
“I’ll check up on the girls. Make sure they’re doing all right when they return to school. Alexis, Christa, and Amy are coming to visit in a couple of weeks. We’ll invite Tash too.”
Thomas halfway smiled. “That’s very good of you. Thank you for coming.” He turned back to the garden.
Jennie did not feel certain Thomas had understood anything she had said—one result of growing up in the South was that, in any situation, no matter how bad, the proper response seems to spill out of your mouth even if you’re not really paying attention to the question.
There was no sense staying. Not with Thomas like this. She turned and hurried into the hallway to retrieve her coat.
Cecelia Cross stood at the front door with Emma’s aunt, about to depart. “Ms. Bateman, you’re still here.”
“On my way out,” Jennie replied, slipping her arms into her coat.
“You’re not staying for dinner?”
“I’m not a member of the family, Ms. Cross, as I believe I already explained, and, in any case, I need to start for home.”
“Of course. You don’t live in Charleston.”
“No, I live in Georgia.”
“Oh. Too bad. Long distance relationships are terribly difficult. Out of sight out of mind, you know.”
She knew she should let Cecelia’s remark pass, but she could not help herself. “I always heard that parting makes the heart grow fonder.” Jennie forced what she hoped was a sweet smile.
“Indeed.” Cecelia frowned. “We’ll see…You know…I live just around the corner.”
“How lucky could Thomas be?”
Cecelia glared at Jennie as she left, and Jennie waited inside until Cecelia had reached the street. As she started to go, she felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Jennie, it was nice to actually meet you.” Emma’s aunt smiled. “Thank you for coming. It means a lot that someone…that you would make such an effort.”
Jennie smiled in return. “Emma was my friend. I’ll miss her.”
Whitesburg
“So, how did it go?” Kara sat at her desk, waiting for Jennie when she entered the office before school on Monday morning.
“Really sad. All of the children were crying. Thomas seemed to be in shock.” Jennie pulled a couple of magazines out of her mailbox. “The church was packed, people standing in the back. I arrived as the hearse did, and I would have been standing with them if Thomas’s brother had not saved me a seat.”
“His brother? You sat with the family?”
“Technically, I guess. We were on the fourth row. Everyone else sat in front of us.”
“So his brother is on your side. That’s good.”
“Kara, I do not have a side,” Jennie snapped. “How can I say this?” She stared at Kara for a few seconds then drew out the next words for added emphasis. “I do not want to marry Thomas…I did that years ago and I left him, remember?”
She began to flip through one of the magazines. “I’d have plenty of company if I were interested, though. You should have seen the women crammed into his house after the service.”
“Women like you?”
“Unmarried women. I’ve never seen so many ringless left hands since I finished college.”
“Women like you?” Kara laughed as she repeated her question.
Jennie looked up, irritated. “I had to get back on the road. These women live in town.”
“Lots of competition.”
“There is no competition because I am not in the race.” Her voice was loud, and, through the glass panel looking out into the hall, Jennie saw one of the other teachers turn to stare. “One of the women,” she said in a quieter voice, “Cecelia Cross, she was a piece of work. She looked like a black widow spider, ready to pounce.”
“Like a spider?” Kara laughed. “Eight long legs?”
Jennie laughed too. “And ready to pounce. I remember a picture in a children’s book I read once. The spider’s face was just like this woman’s. Anyway, she stood in the dining room and accused me of planning to be Thomas’s ‘once and future wife.’ Can you believe it? ‘Keep it in the family,’ she said.” Jennie shook her head. “Ridiculous.”
“If you say so.” Kara nodded, doing a poor job of suppressing a smile. “Just ridiculous.”
Jennie sighed and pulled the door open.
“Keep me up to date on what happens,” Kara called as Jennie walked away.
“Nothing is going to happen,” she almost shouted.
As she walked down the empty hall toward her classroom, Jennie thought about Thomas. She had called Alexis on Friday night after reaching home, and Alexis had confirmed that her father seemed “out of it.”
“I know you talked to him,” Alexis had said, “but a little while ago, he told us he was disappointed you did not come to the funeral.”
“How could he not know…?”
“Everyone told him you were there. Even Tasha. She had peeked into the breakfast room while you were with him. She reminded him the two of you had talked. Finally, he said he remembered, but I don’t think he did, really.”
How in the world will he manage a new baby?
She entered her classroom and piled her books and magazines on her desk. The baby is still in the hospital, so he has some time…
The students would not begin to arrive for another fifteen minutes, and Jennie sat at her desk, lost in thought. Thomas was not her problem. Nor the baby. I’ll check up on the girls, but he’s not my responsibility.
She shook her head. Who was she trying to fool? She’d loved Thomas since she was a freshman in college. Even as she had clomped down the steps from their apartment, leaving him, she had wondered why she was doing it.
The next two years were a blur. She recalled waiting tables at the bar, the Rusty Anchor, and living with Jeff. She didn’t love Jeff, and when they had lain together at night she would think of Thomas. A couple of times she had almost called his name.
Once, she had driven by their apartment, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, but a strange ca
r had been parked in front and an unfamiliar child had been running up the steps. She had later realized that Thomas and the girls had probably moved away less than a month after she had left.
Thomas had attempted to contact her once during that period, a single telephone call to the bar, a call she had failed to return. It had bothered her—for a few minutes—to think of how little effort he had expended to find her. Then, she’d taken a drink and headed back to the bar to see Jeff.
The divorce had brought her to her senses, that and Preacher. She smiled as she thought about the enormous black man who had wandered into the bar searching for lunch one afternoon. Football player, she had thought, and she had guessed well. He had played in the NFL for several years. Now, he was a preacher. He’d taken an interest in her and had supported her as she pulled herself together, swore off the bottle, left Jeff, and moved home to her parents’ house.
It had taken her four years to enter therapy, return to school, and find her job. She had lost track of Thomas and had been unsure how to find him. Moreover, she had felt too ashamed of herself to face him, and she had been sure that if she could locate him, he would slam the door in her face. It had been better to wonder about him, than to have him reject her.
When she had finally summoned the courage to seek visitation with her children, she’d had to face him in court, and she had found he was engaged to be married. She had cried that night, not so much because he was beyond her reach, but because he had been single for a decade and she’d made no attempt to find him.
None of this made sense, she knew. It was an emotional and intellectual conflict. She loved Thomas, but she had no plan to even test the waters to determine if he could be interested in her, much less a plan to marry him again. The spider woman and her friends had no competition from her.
“Ms. Bateman?”
Jennie turned her head to see Sally Richards, one of her students, standing beside her desk. She was grinning from ear to ear.
“I have a new baby sister, Ms. Bateman. She was born on Friday. Want to see a picture?” She held out a photograph. As she fussed over the baby’s photo, the other students began to arrive, and Jennie pushed all thoughts of Thomas from her mind.
Once and Future Wife Page 3
