Love Once Again

by Joann Simon

  Christopher looked directly at Rhea. His voice registered his shock, his total unpreparedness for what had just occurred. "Rhea, I would not have broken this to you in this way had I a choice. This is a woman I thought I would never see again in my life. This is Jessica Dunlap . . . my wife."

  If the scene had been babbling commotion a moment before, it was now dead silence as eyes stared, mouths dropped. Then all was uproar again. There was the sound of shattering glass somewhere in the room.

  The Beards came rushing forward to Jessica, Rhea to Christopher.

  Amelia came to Jessica's side, her voice low and concerned. "This comes as such a shock, my dear! I really do not know what to say. Had you no idea? No, of course, you did not . . . but the unanswered correspondence . . . my goodness . . . my goodness!"

  Bertram Beard stared at Christopher, waiting to see how events would proceed.

  But it was the angry comments of the black-haired beauty to which Jessica's ear was attuned.

  "Your wife! What are you saying? I cannot believe this! How dare you so deceive me!"

  "Rhea, it was not intentional. Two years ago Jessica and I were most unfortunately separated. I. . . I honestly had given up hope I would ever see her alive again. I should have said something to you before, but it was too painful a subject to me. Had I any idea—"

  "Married! And to a serving maid no less—a weak moment in your youth, Christopher?"

  "Rhea, I think this discussion would be better conducted in private. I am aware of your shock. Mine is as great."

  "Shock? What of my embarrassment—the scandal that will be attached?"

  "Please lower your tone! There are others witnessing this conversation, and you will only make matters worse."

  Jessica stood listening, her stomach in a sick knot. She'd heard the woman describe Christopher as her fiance, but only now was it sinking in.

  "As if matters could be worse," Rhea cried. "You may be sure that when I am through, your name in New York society will be tarnished forever!"

  "I am totally in the wrong for not having advised you of the true situation, but nothing is gained at the moment by airing this in public."

  "Yes," she said sarcastically, "of course you would not want the details of this intrigue made too public—a melodrama of lost love that will tear at my heart strings, no doubt."

  "You will know all in due course."

  "Indeed. No wonder you were not anxious to have the announcement of our engagement made in New York just yet!"

  Jessica felt her face growing paler with every word of their conversation. This could not be real! This reunion with the man she thought she would never see again should have been wonderful, joyous—not the cause of such a terrible scene. Was she not walking through someone else's nightmare?

  Amelia saw Jessica's increasingly dazed expression and

  knew it was time she stepped in. Leaving Jessica's side, she went to Rhea and spoke quietly but firmly.

  "Mrs. Taylor, I do not mean to interfere. I fully understand your chagrin, but do you not think this discussion would be better conducted in another room where you might be alone? Please, there is a parlor down the hall where you will be away from all these listening ears."

  "Yes, Rhea, please," Christopher added in the same reasoning tone. "I will come and talk to you shortly."

  "You had best," Rhea hissed, her green eyes flashing, and she shot Jessica such a look of loathing, the latter wished she could make herself invisible. Rhea, her head held high, swept off with Amelia, the stunned onlookers parting mutely to make way for them.

  Immediately Christopher turned to Jessica, his grip on her waist tightening. "Jessica, I am so sorry . . .

  so very sorry."

  Jessica could only stare at him.

  Bertram Beard intervened. "You both would like to get out of this crowd as well, I am sure. Come with me. You may use my study."

  As they hurried from the room, Jessica numbly registered the sight of Elizabeth Beard standing to the side and staring in total astoundment, Rachel behind her with jaw agape, and near the door, Lucas, Ms expression set, his eyes questioning. Jessica had no time to analyze their reactions; she herself hardly knew what to feel. Here was Christopher, her Christopher. Yet what had she expected? That wherever he'd been, whatever he'd been doing for the last two years, he would have remained as faithful to her memory as she had to his?

  Bertram led them to his study, checked to see that the room was empty, then motioned them in.

  "No one will disturb you. I or my wife will be nearby should you need us."

  "Thank you, sir," Christopher's tone was not as steady as before. "I appreciate this, and my sincere apologies to both you and your wife for the disruption to the party."

  "There are certain things in life over which none of us has control. You are all right, Jessica?"

  "Yes."

  "Then I will leave you. You have much to say to each other. I might add that my wife and I would be most interested in hearing the details of the last years' events as well." The last was said in a slightly warning tone, as though he was imparting to Christopher his skepticism that a man living no farther away than New York had still lost trace of his wife for such a period of time. Turning, he stepped from the room and closed the door behind him.

  For a moment neither Christopher nor Jessica moved, then he laid his hands on her shoulders, looked down silently, his eyes moving over every inch of her face. Those blue eyes so vivid had a well-remembered effect on her. She felt her heart beating faster. Still without a word spoken, he pulled her against him, one hand snatching away her mob cap so that he could bury his lips in her hair.

  "Jessica, my God, what you must think of me! I don't know where to begin to explain . . . I was so sure I had left you and Kit in the twentieth century." Suddenly he lifted his head. "Our son! He is with you?"

  "Yes . . . yes, he's here and he's fine—"

  "Thank heavens!"

  "But where have you been?" Her voice felt strangled by the warring emotions she was experiencing.

  "In New York . . . only forty miles from here. When I came to my senses, I was in a shabby room on the waterfront. There was a calendar on the wall that told me the date and that I was in New York City. I think I knew before I looked that you and Kit were not with me. I could still envision you- in our bedroom with our son in your arms, your hand reaching out to me. It seemed so clear that our hands had met, that I had grasped the warmth of your fingers. How I had hoped that contact would keep us together . . .

  "I dreamed again and again of this moment—of seeing your face, holding you in my arms—so sure it would never happen . . . so sure I had left you in the twentieth century."

  "All this time we've been so close." Her voice was hushed in disbelief.

  "You've been in Eastport all along?" "Yes."

  "Jessica, I have been to Eastport before now—in town, along the river! I was going to hire a hack to ride up here to where we used to live—but did not because I was so sure it would only bring me pain. If I had only known!" "You had no way of knowing." "You have been all right?" "The Beards have been good to us."

  "Did they not question your sudden appearance in their house? How did you explain?"

  "I found myself in the cottage on the property, not the house. There was a new maid due to arrive from New York. They mistook me for her. Fortunately the real maid never came. I told them I had lost my luggage during the journey."

  "And Kit—where is he now?" "Upstairs, asleep."

  His voice was trembling. "It has taken me so long to resign myself to never seeing you both again. Now you are here—and what have I done to you? My God, I feel a cad and a fool. There is nothing in this world I would do to hurt you, yet it seems I have succeeded quite well in doing just that!"

  She drew away so that she could look up at him; saw the pain and remorse on his face. It touched her deeply, but she had to know the facts about him and the other woman. "This Rhea-"

  "Oh, Jessic
a. It hardly makes me look better to say this, but I do not love her; I never did. Until I met her, I saw no women in New York—had no interest in doing so. They weren't you, and you were all I wanted. In the beginning I was numb, only going through the motions of living. Maw-son, a man who befriended and helped me, found me a job at the docks. It was not until a year later that I made any attempt to start a business of my own. After I did, it occupied all my energies. My business contacts brought me out into the social world of New York. Still I had no interest in forming an attachment with any woman. Then about six months ago I met Rhea. We drifted into a relationship. She was attractive, and quite obviously interested in me. I knew what she wanted, knew, too, that a good marriage could strengthen my business standing, and I allowed us to slide toward that commitment. But I was doing it with the knowledge that I could never feel for another woman what I feel for you. Can you understand how it happened? How, despite it all, you and Kit were—

  would always be—closest to my heart? . . . Every word I have just spoken is the truth, if you can believe me."Jessica was silent. Another man might spout words to rationalize his behavior and not mean a one, but it was not in the nature of the Christopher she'd known and loved to lie so blatantly. And there'd been such honest joy and wonderment in his expression when he'd known that indeed it was Jessica he'd found. It hurt her that he'd been so close to another woman, but she could understand how it had happened.

  "Yes, I believe you," she said at last. "Those who were close to me here thought I should look for another man, too. There was the child to raise."

  "But can you find it in your heart to forgive me—to truly believe I love you . . . have never ceased doing so and ne^er will!" He hesitated, his voice tight. "Do you remember that first meeting of ours? Two people from two different worlds feeling awkward, not quite certain what to say or do? I feel that way now."

  "After being without you for so long, afraid I'd never know real happiness again, all I want to think of is that we're together and have a new future."

  He moved his fingers softly against her cheek. "If anything, you have grown more beautiful, both within and without. I will do anything I can to prove myself to you. Oh, Jessica . . ."

  Gently he lifted her chin. Then his mouth was seeking hers, finding it, covering it, possessing it, coaxing alive in Jessica a fire she'd forgotten existed. As many times over the last years as she'd remembered the embraces she and Christopher had shared, this moment of feeling his lips on hers was a new experience—a wonderful one . . . warm, overwhelming!

  "I have waited for so long to feel this way again." He pulled her closer as though he would mold her body to his own, prevent the chance of their ever again being separated.

  "So many times I didn't know if I had the strength to go on," she cried. "If not for Kit. . ."

  "Hush, I am here now, and pray God I will never be

  apart from you again! Come, sit down. You are trembling."

  "Finally, Christopher . . .I'm finally realizing it's real."

  He led her to the couch, and, drawing her down beside him, kissed her once more deeply; held her in a protective cocoon, his lips pressed against her brow, until finally she ceased shaking.

  "You should know," she said quietly after a moment, "that when the Beards wondered at my arriving alone with a child, I told them that my husband was out to sea; that I had run out of money and taken this job, leaving word at our lodgings in New York where you could find me when you returned. After the war, when you never came and I never heard from you, they all presumed you were dead."

  "For all the good I have done you, I might as well have been."

  "You had no choice over that."

  Christopher's arms tightened. "Still, how are we to explain my absence? We obviously cannot tell anyone the truth—yet they know I have been in New York all this time."

  "We could say that when you returned from the war and went to our boarding house, the building had changed hands; the previous owners were gone, and the message I had left for you was gone with them. You talked to the neighbors and advertised in New York, but you had no idea to look for me in Connecticut. In the end you had to presume I'd died or, thinking you dead, I had left. Since you had to find another place to live, that would explain why the letter Amelia Beard made me send to New York was returned."

  "Yes, it fits in nicely, though I feel it makes me look the cad for not having pursued you further." He smiled down at her. "As I most certainly would have done were that story the truth. Unfortunate that we cannot tell them the truth."

  She fingered the pearl stud in his shirt front. "What are you going to tell . . . her?"

  "The same."

  "Do you think she will take it well?"

  "No. I can only hope she will be calmer now."

  "You were to go back to New York tonight?"

  His color deepened at the question. "I have accommodations at the inn in town. She can spend the night there, and I will have my schooner bring her back in the morning."

  "Your schooner?"

  "Yes, one of the three I use for my business. He paused, shook his head. "There is so much I still must tell you . . . ask you . . ."

  He was interrupted by a knock on the door.

  "May I come in for a moment?" The voice was Amelia Beard's. "I must speak to you."

  Christopher quickly rose, opened the door.

  "My apologies for intruding, but Mrs. Taylor is asking for you. She wishes to leave. I have offered her a room, but she has declined, and would like to speak to you."

  Christopher nodded, then turned to Jessica, on the couch. "Do you mind? I will return in a moment."

  "No, go ahead."

  "If you will point me the way, Mrs. Beard."

  "Just down the hall, first door on the right. I will stay with Jessica."

  "Thank you."

  Christopher gave Jessica a long, apologetic look, then slipped out the door.

  Amelia came to the couch.. "This is a night of upheaval —to the rest of us as well—but I do want you to know how happy we are for you." Her eyes probed Jessica's. "You are happy?"

  "Very." Jessica smiled, radiantly.

  "Not that I wish to pry, but just what happened? There is this other woman claiming him to be her fiance.

  Why is it he never contacted you from New York? But it is perhaps none of my business."

  "But it is. You and Mr. Beard deserve to know the details. He did not know I was here. Our old lodgings in New York had changed owners. The message I had left there for him had been lost—overlooked, perhaps, or even callously disregarded by the new people. He searched for us, but none of the neighbors knew anything

  —they moved in and out so frequently, I was never close to any of them—nor did he get any response to the advertisements he placed. After months went by with no word, he could only think we had deserted him . . . or died. But we have had so little time to talk . . . "

  "I realize, my dear." She shook her head. "My, what a difficult situation!"

  "I don't mean to keep you from your guests." "They will doubtless not even miss me. I want to make arrangements for you and your husband this evening. I thought the Hayden girl could move in with Elizabeth, which would leave your room free." "Please don't put anyone out."

  "What, and send your husband off to the inn with that woman?" Amelia wrinkled her brow. "Society she may be, but not to my taste. And some reunion that would be for you."

  Jessica had to smile. "Elizabeth may be upset." "The child will survive. I have a feeling she may need some consolation this evening, in any case. That Terrence has been spending more time with a certain other young woman than he has with my daughter." "Yes, Elizabeth spoke to me briefly. She was upset." "I will talk to her. I fear we have sheltered her so much that she has not before had to face many of life's disappointments."

  "Mrs. Beard, I realize how awkward this is for you and your husband, but I want to thank you both-for everything."

  " One good turn deserves a
nother. Y ou have been good to us, a hard worker with never a complaint, and that son of

  yours has certainly been a bright light in the house. I only hope all works out well for you."

  "It will."

  Amelia patted her arm. "I will go talk to Elizabeth and have Nan move the Hayden girl's things."

  "Oh—I forgot Rachel and Nan. They can't manage everything alone!"

  "They can. Our guests will not suffer unduly if some of them have to find their own refreshments. You and your husband may go whenever you wish . . . no need to come back to the ballroom. I will explain to the others."

  "Again, Mrs. Beard . . . thank you."

  Amelia rose. "Well, good night, my dear. We can talk further in the morning, but you have our best wishes."

  Jessica waited another twenty minutes before Christopher reentered the room—twenty minutes during which she paced about, pondering the situation and her reactions. She wondered what was going on in the other room between Christopher and Rhea; not for a moment did she think Christopher was having an easy time of it. How far would this Rhea go in her anger? Had she meant what she said about blackening Christopher's name and reputation? Still, Jessica felt sorry for the woman, knowing she, too, would feel the anger of betrayal were their situations reversed.

  Christopher had entered the room down the hall to find his former fiancee pacing the carpet. She swung on him at the sound of the closing door.

  "Well, it is about time you came! I was wondering if your presumed honor had altogether deserted you.

  But, of course, you have much catching up to do with your newly found wife!"

  "Rhea, I do not know how to begin to explain to you. I realize my behavior was deplorable, but I never thought I'd see Jessica or our son again."

  "A son!"

  "Yes, we have a son."

  "As though it were not bad enough to suddenly discover a serving maid wife in the background, you also have a child! What kind of man are you?"

  "One who is very sorry at the moment for the embarrassment I have caused you. It was during the war, before I'd started my business. I had left Jessica and the child in the city." He went on to outline the story he and Jessica had concocted. "I did not know where to look for them, could only guess that they had died or, thinking I was dead, left to find another life . . . "