When Jeremy got home from visiting one of the parishioners, he heard someone crying in the kitchen. Wondering if Jane had company since Rebecca had consoled a couple of women in the past, he went into the kitchen and saw Jane wiping her eyes with her sleeve while she stirred the batter that was in a bowl.
“Jane, what’s wrong?” he asked.
She didn’t glance his way but said, “Nothing.”
“It’s not nothing. Come on and talk to me.” When she didn’t reply, he walked over to her and placed a hand on her back. “It’s alright. I’ll listen.”
Stepping away from him, she shrugged and muttered, “It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.”
“It does matter. I don’t like it when you cry.”
She shook her head as more tears trickled down her cheeks. “I have to get things ready for the Thanksgiving meal.”
“The meal can wait, Jane.”
“No, it can’t!”
Surprised at the way she snapped at him, he remained still for a moment as he tried to decide on what the best course of action might be. He couldn’t recall a time when Jane purposely shut him out, and he didn’t like it. “Jane, if something’s bothering you, I want to know.”
“Why?”
“Because I care about you.”
Letting out a bitter laugh, she shook her head. “Just like others care about me? Don’t bother, Jeremy. I don’t need anyone to be nice to my face when they speak ill of me behind my back.”
“What are you talking about? I’ve never spoken ill of you.”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she stirred the ingredients in the bowl while another tear slid down her cheek.
What was going on? She left the house happy and came back upset? Determined to break through her wall, he reached for her arm. “Will you stop stirring that and listen to me?”
Glaring at him, she motioned to the bowl. “Wouldn’t you rather have your precious cake?”
“No.”
“But it’s what I’m good for. Making cake. Cake makes you happy. You couldn’t say enough about it at Jonathan and Marcy’s. Not that Marcy could be bothered to make an effort to talk to me, but what does any of it matter? Cake makes up for all my faults.”
Irritated, he grabbed the bowl from her and dumped the contents into the sink. “There! I don’t need cake! I was complimenting you because you’ve been nice to me. It’s been a thoughtful gesture that you make them as much as you do, but I never meant to imply that I expect you to make cakes or that’s all I think you’re good at.”
She glanced between him and the sink. “How could you do that?” Snatching the bowl from him, she banged it on the table and pointed to the sink. “Do you realize how wasteful that was? I watch everything I spend and use everything I purchase. And here you went and threw away ingredients I’ll have to go back out and buy!”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s just cake. It’s not important!”
“No?”
“No! You never have to make me another cake again, alright? It’s not worth it.”
“That ought to make Marcy happy.”
“What does Marcy have to do with this?”
She looked as if she was about to speak but then shook her head. “Forget it. Just forget it. I’ll make the turkey, cranberry sauce, stuffing—”
“Will you stop talking about food? Food can’t be the reason that you’re crying.”
“I told you it doesn’t matter! Now get out of here so I can cook in peace!”
Groaning, he rubbed his eyes and muttered, “Rebecca was never this difficult.”
“What did you say?” she snapped.
Realizing his mistake, he shook his head and threw his hands in the air. “You’re right. Let’s forget it. It’s pointless anyway.”
He strode out of the kitchen and headed for the informal parlor, but she darted in front of him before he made it to the doorway. Placing her hands on her hips, she narrowed her eyes at him, her lips forming a thin line. “I can’t help it if Rebecca was so wonderful that everyone loved her. It’s really a shame she was the one who died instead of me.”
The reminder of Rebecca’s death made him go pale. “Leave Rebecca out of this.”
“Why should I? You’re the one who brought her up. You said she was never as difficult as I am.”
“I didn’t mean it. I was angry and—”
She stomped her foot on the ground and balled her fists at her sides. “If you didn’t mean it, you wouldn’t have said it! But why not say it? It’s the truth. Everyone thinks so. Rebecca’s the kind of woman everyone loved and wanted to be around, but it doesn’t matter if I’m around or not. I’m boring. I’m not pretty or sweet like her. There’s nothing special about me. I simply exist.”
Gritting his teeth, he waited for a long moment to speak so he wouldn’t yell despite the fact that his body shook with rage. “That’s not fair. You have no right to tell me I can’t love Rebecca. I married her.”
Tears filled her eyes again and her lower lip trembled.
Unsure of whether he was more frustrated or angry, he spun on his heel and stormed out of the house. As soon as he made it down the path that led to town, he regretted what he said. If there was ever a time when he wished he could take the words back, this was it. He stopped and turned back toward the house, wondering if he should go back in and apologize now or let things calm down a bit first. Though he couldn’t think of anything he said that upset Jane before, he could now.
He closed his eyes and prayed for guidance. He guessed five minutes passed before he decided he couldn’t leave Jane on an unpleasant note. Even if he had no idea what he could do to repair the damage his words caused, he returned to the house, wondering if he should call out Jane’s name or find her.
Finally, he opted to find her. She wasn’t in the kitchen, and if she had been, he would’ve been surprised. He doubted any woman could cook after what just happened. The next place he checked was her bedroom, and sure enough, her door was shut.
Praying for help on how to approach her, he knocked on the door. “Jane, I’m sorry. I never should have compared you to Rebecca.” When there was no answer, he sighed. He was still botching things up. “Will you please open the door so I can talk to you? I really am sorry. I was wrong. Can we talk?”
A minute passed before she opened the door. His relief was short-lived when he realized she had an open carpet bag sitting on the bed and a drawer open in the dresser.
“Are you leaving me?” he asked, his tone betraying how hurt the realization made him.
Despite the fact that she was still crying, she returned to the drawer and took out a couple of her shirtwaists. “I thought it might be best if I went to Omaha and lived with Edith and Wilbur.”
Before she could put the clothing into her bag, he gently reached for her arms and pulled her toward him. “I’m sorry, Jane. I mean it. What I said was hurtful, and I wish I could take the words back.”
She blinked back more tears and shook her head. “You only stated the truth. If Rebecca hadn’t died, you’d still be married to her. You were supposed to love her.”
“But that doesn’t mean I’m not glad to be married to you.”
Her eyebrows furrowed as she studied him.
“Look,” he began with a sigh, “we know the circumstances regarding our marriage were different from when I married Rebecca, but Jane, I’ve always held you in high esteem. When Rebecca died, you were the only one who made me feel better. You always seemed to know the right words to say to keep me going for one more day. Rebecca spoke so highly of you, and given the months you and I have been married, I agree with everything she said. She said if there was ever a person someone could depend on, it was you. She said when it felt like the whole world was falling in around her, you could say or do something to make her laugh. We were supposed to name our first child after you if we had a girl.”
A few more tears slid down her cheeks and she glanced at the shirtwaists in her hands
. “I loved her, too. There are times when I miss her so much it hurts.”
He let go of her arms so he could wrap his arms around her and hold her while she continued to cry. Unable to think of anything to say, he swallowed the lump in his throat and let a couple of his own tears fall. It’d always been Jane who seemed to understand the depth of his sorrow, who never asked more from him than he was able to give, who sought out whatever she could do to help him.
When he could trust his voice to remain steady, he softly asked, “Besides what I said about you and Rebecca in the hallway, what did I say to upset you?”
Pulling away from him, she set the shirtwaists on the bed so she could grab her handkerchief off the bed. Wiping her eyes and nose, she said, “It wasn’t you.”
“But the cake—”
“It had nothing to do with the cake either. I overheard Marcy talking while I was at the butcher’s, and she said she doesn’t like me. She said I’m a bore and it didn’t matter if I was around or not.”
He watched her as she sniffed and picked up another handkerchief to wipe her eyes. Taking her by the shoulders, he steered her to a vacant part of the bed and sat next to her, holding her close and rubbing her back with one hand. “I sensed things didn’t go well at the supper when we went to her house.”
“I tried to engage her in conversation. The problem is that I never knew what to say to her. Rebecca was the one who did most of the talking, and I sat and listened to her. Marcy never did or said anything mean to me, but I was never comfortable with her.”
“And for good reason.”
“Then she made that comment about the cake and how she supposed it was good for some men.”
“Oh.” Now he understood the connection to the cake. “You don’t have to make me a cake if you don’t want to.”
“I actually prefer cakes. I find them easier than pies and tarts.”
“Then we make a good fit because I’m not particularly fond of pies or tarts myself, though I could be persuaded to enjoy some cookies.”
She chuckled.
Relieved the tension had finally ebbed, he whispered, “I’m sorry, Jane. I’m sorry for what I did and for what Marcy did. You don’t deserve to be treated that way.”
“I grew up being compared to Rebecca. Everyone talked about how sweet and pretty she was while I…” She shrugged. “I was her sister. That’s how everyone thought of me. Sometimes I’d like to be Jane instead of Rebecca’s sister.”
He winced. “I didn’t realize how we were acting, especially me. I’m sorry.” He knew he kept saying the words, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say. She was right. When he married Jane, he thought he’d do it to help Rebecca’s sister. Clearing his throat, he said, “You are a lovely woman, Jane, and it’s time you were appreciated based on your own merits instead of someone else’s.” He glanced at her carpet bag. “Please don’t leave me. I don’t want to live without you.”
She sat up straight and wiped her eyes again. “I didn’t want to leave. I just didn’t want to keep living in my sister’s shadow. Sometimes I dream of leaving Lincoln altogether.”
As she put her shirtwaists back in the drawer, he gave serious thought to what she said. He could see her point.
“Once I wash up, I’ll be ready to return to the kitchen.’
Taking that as his cue to leave, he stood and stepped toward the door. He turned back and watched as she took her brush and mirror out of the carpet bag. “Thank you for staying.”
She glanced at him and smiled, and in that instant, he knew everything was going to be alright. Feeling much better, he went to the kitchen to clean up the mess in the sink.
***
That Sunday as he gave the sermon, Jeremy’s gaze kept drifting between Jane and Marcy. The two women sat on opposite ends of the church, and no one would know there was a problem. Jane looked as uncomfortable as usual—something he didn’t know how to ease, though he suspected the fact that she sat alone and a little further apart from everyone else had something to do with it. When she sat with her family, she’d looked at ease.
Having married him put her in an uncomfortable position, and that bothered him. Before, he knew she was shy, but now he realized it went deeper than that. She didn’t feel like she belonged here. Without Rebecca or Edith there, Jane had nothing to hang onto for a sense of belonging. God knew Will and his family and her aunt Fiona were a sorry lot.
After the service ended, he went over to Jane who looked surprised. “I thought I’d come to you this time,” he whispered.
He didn’t know if it would help ease things for her, but he knew Rebecca and Edith made it a point to stay with her in public gatherings. Until he could find another church to take him, he decided he would do the same. It might not make her completely comfortable, but maybe it would help.
When the people came up to talk to him, he did what he could to involve Jane in the conversation. For the most part, he thought it went well. Among the people who approached them were Jonathan and Marcy. Jane’s body stiffened and her voice grew tight, but she remained polite. He knew Marcy hadn’t gotten along as well with Jane as she’d gotten along with Rebecca—which was why he didn’t want to go to their house for another supper—but watching Marcy pretend she liked Jane annoyed him.
After enough people left, he saw that Jonathan was still talking to another parishioner and told Jane he would be back soon. Though there was a worried look in her eyes, he decided the sooner he dealt with Marcy, the better. As soon as Jonathan noticed him, Jeremy motioned to a place further out of the way where their conversation would be private.
“What is it, Jeremy?” Jonathan asked.
Glancing around to make sure no one was within hearing distance, Jeremy said, “There’s no use in beating around the bush. I don’t think it’s wise for our wives to feel they have to talk to each other because of our friendship.”
After a long pause, he let out a long sigh. “I’m afraid you’re right.”
Whatever Marcy told Jonathan about Jane, Jeremy didn’t care to know, and he was relieved when Jonathan didn’t choose to elaborate.
“I like Jane for you,” Jonathan said. “She’s what you need.” He glanced at Marcy who was waiting for him with their baby and her mother. “I better go. I’ll see you around.”
Jeremy nodded and returned to Jane who stood awkwardly by one of the pews. Smiling at her, he said, “You won’t have to talk to Marcy anymore.”
She fidgeted from one foot to another. “Did you tell him what I overheard?”
“No. I just told him I didn’t think it was a good idea if you and Marcy were in a situation where you had to talk to each other, so you won’t have to talk to Marcy after each service from now on.” He caught the look of relief on her face before he gently took her by the arm. “Let’s go home, alright?”
Nodding, she left the church with him.
Chapter Twelve
Two weeks later, Jeremy took a few pinecones and poinsettias, set them in the basket, and took them to Rebecca’s grave. He brushed back the light covering of snow from her marker and stood up.
Clearing his throat, he said, “I know I haven’t been by in over a week, but I’ve been looking into transferring to another church. Jane’s not happy here. When you were alive and Edith was living here, she had people she could go to. Her brother and his family leave much to be desired, and I’m afraid you wouldn’t like the way Marcy treated her. But worse than all of that is the tendency people have to compare you to her, and to be honest, they find her lacking.”
He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.
“I hate to admit it, but I’ve also thought of her as your sister. I didn’t find her lacking in any way. Naturally, she’s not you. I married you because I loved you, and it was because of my love for you that I married Jane. That’s not to say I don’t enjoy being married to her because I do…”
His face flushed, and he suddenly wondered if he should be talking this way to his first wife. I
t almost seemed sacrilegious to speak so fondly of another woman, but it wasn’t like what he had with Jane could be compared to what he had with Rebecca. And yet, he didn’t know how to get that across to Rebecca without feeling as if he’d let her down.
Taking a deep breath, he ventured, “Jane’s a good friend. Yes, she’s now my wife and I’m happy with her, but you know you’re first. You don’t need to be alarmed that she’ll step in your place.”
He shifted from one foot to another and thought of how he might change the topic since anything that came out of his mouth regarding his feelings for Jane didn’t seem to work out to his satisfaction.
“Anyway, I’ve looked into moving to another church.” There. That was a safe enough topic. “I think if people in a new town could get a chance to meet Jane without attaching her to you, then she might be happier. I know you’d want her to be happy. I didn’t pay much attention before, but now that I see the way people seem to pass by her without noticing her, except for Gerdy, I…well…I get angry. It’s not right that she should be ignored.”
Making circles in the snow with his shoe, he tried to think of what to say next. He couldn’t recall a time when it’d been difficult to come up with something to tell Rebecca. Perhaps she wasn’t pleased to learn he’d consider leaving her buried in Lincoln while he moved elsewhere.
“You do understand that this is best, don’t you?”
He waited and then realized she couldn’t answer him. He’d gotten so used to talking to her that he imagined she stood before him, smiling and listening to everything he had to say.
“I know you’re happy where you’re at,” he whispered, suddenly feeling as if she was a million miles away. It was a very disconcerting sensation, and he wasn’t sure how to handle it. With an awkward chuckle, he said, “It never occurred to me how far apart we really are. That’s silly, isn’t it?”
His laughter died down, and he decided it was time to put her things away. He’d kept everything in their usual place in their bedroom, but he knew it was long overdue to change that. She wasn’t coming back to him. One day, he’d go to her but that day wasn’t today, and he saw no reason to keep putting off the inevitable.
Bride of Second Chances Page 10
