Just Jessie

by Lisette Belisle

  At lunch a week later, Ira took a look at the ground turkey and pushed it aside. “Feed that to Bandit. I want real food. And tell Ben I want to see him. Where is he, anyway?”

  “He should be here for lunch.” Jessie tried to be patient.

  Ben came in eventually. Under Ira’s grilling, he had to report work was behind. Several workers were still out sick.

  “Have you talked to Drew about extra help?” Ira asked.

  “According to Drew, there isn’t anyone else. This far into the season, they’re all committed elsewhere.”

  “Well, that’s just fine. Meantime, my crops rot!”

  Jared arrived for lunch. “Sorry, I’m late.” He helped himself to the eggplant casserole. “This looks great, Jessie.” He looked around when he got no response. “Is something wrong?”

  Ira’s expression was angry. “Suppose you tell me. Why wasn’t I told about the problems at the camp?”

  Jared looked from Ben to Jessie. It was Jessie who replied, “We didn’t want to worry you while you were ill.”

  Ben explained the situation, and his involvement. “It had to be reported. I agreed to help.”

  Ira was adamant. “If you’d asked, I would have said no!”

  Ben’s mouth went taut. “Then I’m glad I didn’t ask.”

  “Let the migrants settle their own problems—it’s got nothing to do with us. We don’t need the feds nosing around.”

  “It’s too late for that,” Jared spoke up. “The Pierces became wealthy by taking advantage of anyone who works for them.”

  “Drew said he’d fix everything,” Ira interjected.

  “Everyone knows he takes his orders from his father.”

  “The Pierces have political connections,” Ira insisted. He glared at Ben. “If you fight them, you’ll only lose.”

  Ben pushed his chair back. “Then I’ll lose.”

  “I give the orders around here!” Ira snapped.

  While Jessie stared in concern, Jared shoved his chair back and stood. “In case anyone’s interested, I agree with Ben.”

  “Me, too.” Jessie met Ben’s steady gaze.

  “You’re both taking his side?” Ira demanded.

  Jared said, “I’d rather be part of the solution than the problem. Covering up for the Pierces isn’t the answer. They should face up to their mistakes.”

  Ben added quietly, “There’s a second meeting with the authorities the day after tomorrow. I plan to be there.”

  Jessie and Jared insisted on going with him. For a man who hadn’t wanted to get involved, Ben was truly committed.

  The day after tomorrow.

  Ben had avoided thoughts of tomorrow for so long. Lunch ended with Ira red-faced and blustering. Ben remained withdrawn.

  Caught in the middle with her loyalties divided, Jessie soothed her father while her husband left the house.

  “That husband of yours is wrong,” Ira said. “Drew will cooperate. Ben’s just not our kind.”

  “What do you mean he’s not our kind?”

  Her father’s face became set and hard. “He doesn’t belong here.”

  Jessie gripped the chair back. “You wanted him here.”

  “All right, I made a mistake. That can be fixed.” His mouth tightened. “If you just tell him to go…”

  “I won’t!” Jessie gasped. “I love you, but you drive everyone away. Everyone I care about. Don’t make me choose between you and Ben. I…I love him.”

  Had she actually said that? Her father turned away without saying a word. Jessie released her grip on the back of the chair. She was so afraid he would drive Ben away.

  That night, Jessie slept on the downstairs couch—again.

  As Ben prepared for bed, he remembered her expression at dinner. She’d seemed upset. Later, he had the dream— screaming bullets mingled with human cries. Jessie was in it, but her image was fading. He woke suddenly, his heart like lead. The room was dark, empty. This was insane. Why was he in bed alone with a wife under the same roof? He tore off the bedcovers and pounded down the stairs. He found her in the darkness, scooped her up, blankets, pillows and all. His mouth on hers cut off her protest, then he held her close.

  His voice was hushed in the night, urgent. “I’m not putting up with this a moment longer. You belong in my bed. Whether you like it or not, you’re sleeping with me because heaven knows, I can’t sleep without you!” Expecting an argument from Jessie—at the very least a debate and a long list of objections, he stared at her, unable to read her expression in the dim moonlight coming through the windows. “Have you got that?” he repeated.

  She yawned. “Yes, Ben.”

  Disarmed by her easy capitulation, he guessed she was too exhausted to fight him. Ben marched upstairs and very gently laid her on her bed. Then he took the empty space beside her and pulled her close, feeling a surge of warm pleasure when she curled up against his chest. Muttering something unintelligible, she reached up. A whisper of a kiss brushed his mouth, and then she subsided. Her breathing was slow and even. Struck by an unexpected wave of tenderness, Ben closed his eyes, content to simply lie there and hold her. He suspected that this was happiness.

  Ben confronted Ira the following day. “I hired a nurse.”

  “I don’t need a nurse! I’ve got Jessie.”

  “She can’t keep up with your demands.”

  Ira’s face flared with resentment. “Just yours?”

  Ben flushed. “Jessie may be your daughter, but she’s my wife. Nothing you can do will change that.”

  “Ben,” Jessie pleaded. “It’s fine. I can manage alone.”

  Fed up with competing with her father, Ben said firmly, “Well, you won’t have to manage alone. She starts today.”

  Ira clamped his mouth shut.

  Ben was relieved when the doctor stopped by later.

  Scolding, Dr. Peterson exposed Ira’s bouts of weakness. “I told you to exercise. You should be on your feet by now. Not tied to a chair. The nurse has orders to get you up.”

  Ira retorted, “If I’m doing so great, I don’t need a nurse.” He wrinkled his brow. “Who is she?”

  “Dora Cummings.”

  “That old harpy!”

  Dr. Peterson smiled. “She’ll keep you in line. It’s natural to be scared, but as long as you take your medicine and follow orders, there’s little risk of another attack.”

  Jessie stared uncomprehendingly from Ben to her father; slowly the facts registered. Her father had used her to get back at Ben. And she had let him.

  Dora’s arrival created an unexpected new ripple. No matter how much Ira berated the woman, he had put on his new velour robe, Ben noted. He also was wearing what looked and smelled suspiciously like hair gel. Ben hid a smile.

  Starch crackling, Dora Cummings took charge. “Ira, now what’s this about you not getting out of your chair?” Tall and substantially built, she pulled him to his feet.

  He shook her arm off. “I can walk without any help.”

  Dora stood back with a smile of satisfaction. “Then, please do.” She escorted Ira around the yard twice, then helped Jessie serve breakfast.

  Later, Jessie could hear her father and brother in the next room, arguing. Their raised voices covered the sound of Ben’s approach. Her hands immersed in hot sudsy water with the breakfast dishes, she felt his presence behind her and dropped a slippery plate with a splash. He kissed the back of her neck. She shivered with sensuous pleasure as his breath teased.

  “Jessie.” He spoke her name low, in that gravelly deep voice of his. Deaf to his actual words, she felt only the effect of his nearness. Drowning in a sea of sensation, she turned to seek his mouth, melting against him, loving the way instant passion flared between them. Loving him.

  Did he love her?

  Doubts plagued her. Even at the height of passion during their lovemaking, she experienced doubts. Could this be real? Could it last? She didn’t know much about love, but she knew it could hurt. It made her vulnerable to needs she
hadn’t known she had; the need to be touched, to be held and kissed and driven insane with longing. How could anything so agonizing feel so good? She pressed against him, wishing she could leave her imprint on his body as he had marked hers. She carried his child. She was sure of it now. How could she tell him? Would he be pleased? Or would he think she’d deliberately trapped him? Her hands crept up his chest. Ben set her aside with reluctance.

  He grinned at the soapy trail she’d left on his shirt. With a rueful smile, she removed suds from his throat.

  “I suppose I should get some work done,” he said. “Don’t let Ira fire Dora. And take it easy today.” She had her orders. He reached down and kissed her again, this time with more urgency than before. Finally, he wrenched his mouth from hers. “Later.”

  Smiling, she watched him leave and wished he’d invited her to go along. She would rather work outside—anything to be with him. If only she could escape. She felt guilty at the thought. How could she leave? Her father’s voice clashed with Jared’s again.

  She groaned. When Jared burst out of the room, she followed him onto the porch. She called to him. He didn’t respond, so she called again more sharply. “Jared!”

  He was halfway across the yard before he actually stopped. He spun around. “What is it?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know.” She walked toward him, aware of the defensive set of his shoulders. Angering him wouldn’t accomplish anything. Determined to get to the bottom of things, she folded her arms. “Dad can’t take the stress.”

  He released a long breath. “I know.” He ran a hand through his hair and looked at her, shamefaced. “I know,” he said more quietly. “Look, it doesn’t concern you.”

  She glared at him. “I think it does.”

  After a tense silence, he announced starkly, “I found Mom.”

  Mom.

  Jessie stood as if struck. Something buried deep within stirred. “How?” she whispered, all she could choke out.

  “I hired a detective.”

  “And?” she said impatiently. Dear God, she’d waited twenty years for this day—and she hadn’t even known she was waiting. All she knew of her mother was that she’d left. Why? Why would a woman desert her children? Why had her mother deserted her?

  He turned toward the fence and stared out across the meadow. His voice seemed to come from a distance as he gathered a few precious memories and shared them. “You were too young when she left, Jessie, but I remember her. She was so pretty, with pale curls and a bright smile. She always smelled like lilacs and she liked to sing. I remember her singing to us,” he said, as if he could hold on to that. He swallowed visibly. “I always knew I had to find her. When I turned eighteen, I asked Dad for some information. It was just after Sunny…”

  Of course, Jessie remembered how upset he’d been at losing the dog his mother had given him. Apparently the incident had affected him even more than she’d realized. She recalled how he’d gone out with his friends that night. He’d come home alone, he’d been drinking. Her father had been furious.

  “Go on,” she prodded gently.

  He faltered, then admitted, “When he refused to tell me, I went searching through his private papers. I just wanted to find something of hers.” He sighed. “There were some old letters. They were unopened, addressed to you and me. She’d written for years before finally giving up. Dad never replied or gave them to us. Instead, he did everything he could to wipe out her memory, as if she never existed. She left us and never came back, but he had no right to hide the letters.” He swallowed. “I confronted him. He was furious I’d invaded his things. We fought.” His face was hard and unforgiving; he was a Jared she no longer knew. “I lit out of here first thing the next morning. I had to get away, Jessie. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.” Jessie released a sigh. “But how did you find her?”

  “I took the letters with me when I left.”

  She placed her hand on his arm. “And you looked for her.”

  “Not at first,” he admitted. “For years, I was too angry at both of them, but after I got out of the army, I started looking. I needed to get to the bottom of all the lies. Through a social security number, I found a trail of old addresses and former employers that went nowhere. She moved around a lot. Finally, I traced her to California. She tried to make it in movies. She changed her name. And I thought that was the end of it.”

  “But it wasn’t?”

  He took a deep breath. “I couldn’t let go of it. The last time I came home, Dad still refused to help. Eventually, I saved a little money, enough to hire a private detective. After following several leads, he found her. Ironically, she lived in California, less than four hundred miles from where I was living.”

  “Where is she now?” Jessie whispered. “I want to see her.”

  His face filled with pain and regret, Jared faced her. “I’m sorry, Jessie. She died six months before I found her.”

  Jessie groaned and turned away.

  His voice turned her back, made her face the past. “They gave me her things. She’d kept a snapshot of us. I was five, you were two. Remember the red tricycle you got for your birthday?” He stumbled over the words, choked and rubbed his reddened eyes.

  Overwhelmed with emotion, Jessie couldn’t speak for a moment. “Did you tell Dad?” She had so many questions, but for now it was all she needed to know.

  His gaze held bitterness. “Yes.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Nothing. I don’t think he felt anything.” Jared blinked and stared up at the sky. The sun was obscenely bright, but the wind had a cold snap that signaled a turbulent summer. “I pray to God I never get that hard.”

  Jessie couldn’t imagine Jared ever being hard. Perhaps cynical, but not hard. If anything, he was too idealistic. He’d lost respect for his father. Jessie wondered if the rift could be healed. Struggling to cope with her own emotions, she didn’t know what to say. “When did you tell him?”

  “I called to tell him I’d gotten a job in California.”

  “Jared, he had a heart attack that night.”

  They looked at each other. Jared appeared shaken. The news had caused her father’s collapse. Jessie recalled how upset he’d been. At the time, she’d blamed Cal’s injury and Ben’s decision to quit. Her father must still have cared about his wife. For some reason, he’d let bitterness rule his life. She pitied him.

  “Can you forgive him?” Even as she said the words, Jessie wondered if she could forgive her father’s deception. It seemed her mother had loved her after all. “I’m sorry about Mom,” she said softly. “The years have been hard on Dad, too. He made a mistake, but he’s paid the price.” He’d lost his son’s love.

  “You and your soft heart.” He smiled sadly. “What about you? I come home and find you married to some stranger—”

  “Ben isn’t a stranger to me.”

  “If you say so.” He didn’t look convinced. “Anyway, your marriage came as a shock. I know that’s not your fault. I should have stayed in closer touch. I got so involved in the past, I forgot the present. I forgot about you. You’ve changed, Jessie. You’ve grown up. Can you forgive me?”

  She nodded. She had grown up. How could she tell him of all the long, lonely years? She had never felt young, never been kissed. Never felt the earth move with a man’s touch. Until Ben. He’d opened up a whole new world for her. The possibility of losing that now left her feeling cold and empty.

  Jared shifted uneasily at her long silence. “You deserve some happiness. If that means Ben Harding, don’t let anything stand in your way. Dad will come to terms.”

  Would her father ever come to terms with her marriage?

  Jessie had her doubts. She turned back to the house and saw a black crow sitting on the porch rail. She’d lost her mother at the age of three, yet somehow the wound felt fresh. She would never stop mourning the years they’d spent apart—perhaps needlessly—due to her father’s unforgiving heart.

  F
eeling a sick panic, she told Jared she was going for a walk. Ignoring the storm clouds, she didn’t realize her destination until she was halfway there. She had to find Ben. When he wasn’t in the first field where she’d expected to find him, she went to the next, then the next. She started to run.

  Her heart was pounding when she slid to a stop. She’d found him. He was mending a fence. Fear struck her. How she loved him. What if he left, just like her mother? She couldn’t survive.

  His gaze fastened on her. “What’s the matter?”

  Everything.

  She bit her trembling lip. “Nothing.” Meeting his eyes squarely, she didn’t look away.

  “Your father?”

  She shrugged. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

  He reached forward and gently ran the knuckles of his hand down her face. She held her breath, then released it on a shaky sigh when he whispered, “He’ll be all right, Jessie.”

  “I know,” she breathed.

  Despite everything, Ben could feel compassion. In that moment, she gave him her heart. She smiled faintly. Of course, she loved him. It explained so much—the instinctive trust, the pain she felt when he was in pain, the need to be with him. She simply hadn’t known what love was.

  “Come on, let’s go home.” Ben gathered his tools.

  Less than halfway home, a single flash of lightning signaled a downpour. In the woods, just north of the house, Jessie led him to shelter in the old sugar shack. The shack had been abandoned years ago. Part of her still mourned the loss of the large maple-tree grove; they’d sold the trees to the Pierce Logging Company.

  Jessie went farther into the dim interior to examine the premises. “There might be mice.”

  Ben stood in the doorway and watched the dismal rain. He decided Maine had more than its share of both—the dismals and the rain.

  Apparently satisfied at the absence of field mice, Jessie turned back to him. “What are you thinking?”

  Turning away from the curtain of rain, he let his eyes take in the pleasurable sight of her ruffled composure. She rarely lost her dignity—perhaps due to her rigid upbringing.