Love Once Again

by Joann Simon

  The door at the end of the hall opened suddenly, and a worried-looking Emma peeped out. Jessica called to her.

  "He's here. I'll take him now, thank you."

  "Stepped out so quick, I didn't even see him."

  "That's all right." Jessica smiled, and Emma retreated.

  "I have a surprise for you, Kit," she said quietly, again addressing the child.

  " 'Prise?" The child's eyes widened. "What 'prise?"

  "A very special one, sweetheart." She paused, wondering how best to phrase the news that could only come as a shock to the child. "You remember me talking about your father, don't you?"

  Kit nodded. "He went 'way on boat."

  "Yes. Well, the surprise is that he's back. He came last night."

  The child only stared at her, not fully understanding.

  "He is here, Kit. . . in the bedroom, and very anxious to see you again."

  "Don't 'member father." The boy sounded slightly alarmed.

  "No, you were much too young when he left. But he's a very nice daddy, and he loves you. You'll like him very much. Do you want to meet him now?"

  His arms hugged her more tightly. "I want stay with you."

  She laughed. "You will stay with me, but from now on your father will be with us, too. We'll all be a family again."

  "Like Anne? She has daddy. They live same house."

  "Yes, like Anne. Won't it be nice to have a daddy of your own to do things with?"

  Kit's eyes told Jessica that curiosity was getting the better of the child now; but still he hesitated.

  "Come, I'll hold your hand. You know there is nothing to be afraid of in meeting your father."

  Jessica pushed the door open and led Kit forward. "He's still sleeping," she whispered.

  Kit's eyes, wide as saucers, looked toward the bed, but he remained silent.

  "I'll wake him up."

  "He be mad."

  "No, he won't. Come, I'll show you." Determinedly she led Kit forward, stopped at the side of the bed, and leaned down to kiss her husband's cheek. "Christopher?"

  "Mmmm."

  "Christopher, it's Jessica. Wake up. There's someone here to see you."

  "Jessica?" he mumbled, his eyes still closed.

  Gently she shook his shoulder. The blue eyes opened a slit, and peered up at her. She saw startlement in them for a moment, then a gleam of happiness. " Jessica! You are here," he said drowsily. "I thought for a moment it was only another dream."

  "I'm here."

  He reached out for her. "Why are you out of this warm bed?"

  "For a very good reason. I have a visitor for you. Your son."

  She drew the child closer to the bed, and Christopher, immediately alert, quickly sat up.

  Father and son stared at each other. Then Christopher, smiling widely, reached out his arms. "My, what a fine, handsome boy you are! But what are you doing down there? Come up here on the bed with your lazy father so I can get a good look at you."

  As Jessica watched, Christopher took his son's chubby hand. "Here you go. Jump up, and we will make a place for your mother, too."

  Kit climbed up and sat cross-legged on the coverlets, cautiously facing Christopher, while Jessica squeezed her-self in at the edge of the bed.

  "I have been thinking very much about you while I was away," Christopher began, trying to put the child at ease. "If I did not know better, I would think you much older than two. . . are you sure that is all you are?"Kit nodded solemnly. "Just had birthday."

  "Of course you did. How could I have forgotten! And what does a grown-up boy like you do on the farm all day? Do you fish? I see you have a river near by."

  "Sometime Lucas take me. Too cold now."

  "Indeed. But when it was warmer, did you catch many fish?"

  Kit nodded vigorously this time. "This big." He held out his arms indicating a catch almost as large as himself.

  Christopher suppressed his grin. "My! I do not know that I have ever gotten one so large myself. And what else do you do at the farm? I remember when I was your age I had a lovely dappled pony named Gray Boy."

  "Don't have pony. Ride Nellie."

  "The farm workhorse," Jessica explained. "Though of course Kit needs a little assistance."

  "Then we will have to get you a pony of your own, will we not?"

  "Pony? Oh, yes! Keep in barn with Nellie. Can I, Mama?"

  "Yes, though I don't know about keeping it in the barn here. We'll be getting a home of our own, which will be even better."

  "But I like farm, and Molly and Jeb and Lucas and Aunt 'Melia!"

  "I know you do, and we'll see them, but you're going to like where we're going, too. Your father has a house in New York, and there will be all kinds of new things to see and do, and someday soon we'll build a house here in East-port."

  "Wait until you see all the exciting things in New York, Kit," his father added quickly. "There are two forts

  —with real soldiers—and tall buildings and ships. I'll take you on one almost as long as this house, with two tall masts and sails-"

  "Like boat in picture, Mama?"

  Jessica brightened. "Yes, like the one hanging in the downstairs hall."

  The child was now regarding his father with decided interest. "Big boat. When we go?"

  "Soon. As a matter of fact, I can take you today, if you would like. I have to go down to Eastport to see my schooner off. Although we cannot go sailing today, I will take you on board."

  Kit's expression grew eager, excited. "Yes?" He looked to his mother in question.

  "You don't have to ask, sweetheart. If your father wishes, of course you can go. Would you like to?"

  He nodded, glancing shyly at Christopher.

  Smiling his delight, Christopher laid his hand on his son's small shoulder. "Then we will go. You will have to dress warmly. It will be cold on the water."

  Something suddenly occurred to Kit. "You go, too, Mama?"

  "No, I have things to do here, sweetheart. And this is a man's trip—for big boys, not ladies."

  That information impressed the child. He nodded importantly and started to scramble from the bed. "I go get hat and coat."

  Jessica laughed. "Do you think maybe first we should give your father a chance to get dressed and have his breakfast? But come on, I'll bring you to Emma and she can help get you into some warmer overalls and a sweater. Then we'll ail go down and have breakfast."

  "All right."

  As Jessica rose and went to the small dresser to remove a few articles of Kit's clothing, the boy remained on the bed and, more courageous now, began asking his father questions about the "big boat."

  Listening to their conversation, Jessica felt a throb of relief. The ice had been broken, the awkwardness between them all but banished. For all the days he would remember of his short life, Kit had been dependent on her alone, and she'd had her fears about his acceptance of a father he'd never known.

  "Are you ready, young man?" she said now, at a break in their conversation.

  Kit nodded and slid from the bed.

  Christopher was still smiling, his eyes on Kit. "I will see you soon."

  "Little while." Kit grinned and followed his mother from the room.

  When Jessica returned, Christopher was up and already partially dressed.

  "My, you are an elegant sight at nine in the morning," she teased.

  "The Beards will forgive me, I hope, for this evening dress, but my luggage is all at the inn." He finished buttoning his shirt, then held out his arms to her. "Come here, temptress. You have yet to give me a good morning kiss."

  Jessica gladly flew to his arms, and even more gladly raised her head for the warm pressure of his lips—

  a pressure whose passion grew quickly. He sighed. "Were it not for our waiting son, I would be most delighted to take you back to that bed, madam. However, I will save that pleasure for later."

  She grinned up at him, then rested her head on his chest. "It went well with Kit, don't you think
?"

  she said quietly. "He was so shy at first . . ."

  "As could only be expected. After all, it was a very difficult experience for him to meet his father for the first time—what to Kit seems the first time—at the age of two. I am delighted with him, Jessica . . . more so than I can put into words. This is truly a beautiful morning."

  "The first of many. It's good that you're taking him with you today."

  "You do not mind being left alone?"

  "It's better that you two have a chance to get to know each other."

  "What a difference twenty-four hours can make! To think that such a short time ago my approach to life was little more than a matter of getting through one day and into the next. Now there is something really worthwhile to build for again."

  When, a few minutes later, they arrived downstairs, their first order of business was to meet with Amelia and Bertram Beard. Christopher reiterated the events that had occurred over the last two years, explaining why he had not been able to contact Jessica before now. He told of their plans for the future, entailing a move to New York. Despite Bertram Beard's initial skepticism, once he had heard Christopher out, he offered them what assistance he could; his wife, though she repeated over and over how they would miss Jessica and Kit, was bubbling with excitement. Later, at the breakfast table, Elizabeth's reaction could better be termed shock. All during the meal her eyes moved back and forth between Christopher and Jessica, her expression registering disbelief. Jessica could almost read the girl's thoughts—amazement that there had been a husband; a touch of envy that this handsome, articulate, well-established gentleman was he.

  Elizabeth was very subdued.

  Immediately after the dishes were cleared, Christopher went to the front parlor to pen two letters to Willis Maw-son and Robert Bayard, telling them what had transpired.

  They would need and deserve to know the details when Rhea Taylor arrived in New York with her startling news, which she would waste no time announcing.

  Christopher advised Jessica that while in Eastport that morning he would arrange for the schooner to return in two days' time to carry them all to the city. By then Jessica should have things straightened out with the Beards, and she and Christopher would have her belongings and Kit's packed.

  Not until after Christopher and Kit left for the Eastport docks, Kit bundled and proudly sitting beside his father on the driver's seat of the carriage Bertram Beard lent them, did Jessica have a chance to talk privately with Molly. Of all the people at the Beards', it was to this kind, motherly woman that she felt closest.

  As Jessica entered the kitchen, Molly held her arms wide. "Ah, child," she said, giving Jessica a hearty hug. "More happy for you I couldn't be. 'Tis just so wonderful . . . and he seems a good man, little I have seen of him. The mistress says he's a gentleman—and to see him and Kit—"

  "I know. I'm happier than I can say."

  "This calls for a cup of tea and a nice chat. You sit right there and I'll get us each a bit." She bustled off to the hearth and the steaming kettle, continuing to chatter as she prepared the brew in an old china pot. "I heard how he come back to New York and couldn't find you. Someone up there must've been watching out for you, to bring him here to the ball."

  "It seems that, doesn't it?" Jessica smiled.

  "And what an uproar you put this house in—not that it wasn't worth every minute. Rachel come back to the kitchen last evening looking as though she'd been struck. Can't say it wasn't fair return, after all her coolness to you." The pot now ready, Molly brought it and two cups to the table, sat down, and poured the tea.

  "What're your plans now, child? We'll be missing you, but a far happier life you'll have."

  "Christopher has a house in New York, and we'll go there for now. We'd like to come back to Connecticut eventually and build a house of our own. It will be better for Kit to grow up in the country."

  "Aye, and that news pleases me! Hate to lose sight of you."

  "I'd hate to lose touch with you, too. You've all been so good to me, and I feel guilty going off so suddenly and leaving Mrs. Beard short staffed."

  "That's the last thing you should be worrying your head about. Mistress talked to me this morning. She'll be bringing Rachel up into your place—that ought to bring a smile to the girl's face for a change—and taking on Nan full time. It'll work out well, though Rachel'll never have your way of things. . . then again, I shouldn't be prejudging the girl."

  "Maybe this is the chance she needs."

  "Aye. Miss Elizabeth's going to be missing you, too, much as she'll never admit it. Heard she and her young man friend had a tat last evening. Nan says Miss Elizabeth hung close to Lucas the latter part of the night. Now there's a fine man. Maybe her eyes are finally opening to the fact."

  "I hope so. I've felt sad for Lucas. I do hope I'll have a chance to say good-bye to him before we leave."

  "Often wondered if something might develop between you two. Not that I should be talking—and better now it didn't. But like I said, we're going to miss you."

  "We'll be here to visit. We won't lose touch . . . I promise."

  By noon, the last of the overnight guests had departed and the house returned to a more peaceful state.

  Jessica had a long talk with Amelia Beard over the new household arrangements and, despite Amelia's protests, gave a hand to help with the post-party cleaning. She needed an outlet for her happy excitement, and not by nature or experience was she one to sit by and watch others work. As she moved from ballroom to kitchen clearing away dishes and silver, a silent smile stayed on her lips; nothing could displace her tranquil glow.

  Nan came to her to say there was a gentleman in the front hall who wished to see her. She went out to find Lucas, hat in hand, staring unseeing at one of the paintings.

  "Lucas," she called, hurrying forward, a bright smile on her face. "You must be reading my mind. I wanted to speak with you before we left."

  He turned, took her extended hands, held them for a moment, studying her expression, but his face was serious. "You're happy, then."

  "How could I be otherwise? Yes, I'm very, very happy."

  "Elizabeth will be down soon, but I wanted an opportunity to talk to you." His tone rested on the same serious note as his expression. "I thought perhaps you and your husband would want privacy today."

  "Christopher and Kit have gone down to Eastport to collect his luggage."

  "I have to be honest in saying I am concerned for you. It all happened so suddenly last night—and that other young woman . . ."

  "I know, but it's all been settled. She's gone back to New York. You see, he'd given up hope of ever finding Kit and me, Lucas."

  "Still . . . strange, to say the least, that he had already formed such an attachment."

  "I have to believe him, Lucas. And I do."

  "I'm sorry. I don't mean to seem a black cloud. It's only that I think so much of you that I am concerned about your future happiness."

  "Everything will be fine. He's a good man, Lucas, and he loves us."

  At last he hesitantly smiled. "I must wish you well then. I understand he has a business established in New York."

  "Yes. We will be going there temporarily, but would like to come back here and build a home."

  "Needless to say, we would all like that." As he studied her face again, Jessica felt the intensity of his gaze; saw in his expression an emotion she had tried in the past to pretend she was imagining. But she wasn't imagining anything now, as Lucas placed his hands on her shoulders, bowed his head. "I am going to miss you." He sighed. His

  lips loomed ever closer, then suddenly instead he hugged her against him, dropping his cheek to the top of her head.

  Perhaps it had been the flash of warning in her eyes that had made him change his course; made him realize that a kiss between them now would forever destroy the pretense that only friendship had bound them.

  When he spoke his voice was constricted. "I must say good-bye . . . but not good-bye f
orever, I hope." He gave her one last squeeze, then, releasing her, let his arms drop to his sides. "Take care of yourself, Jessica."

  "And you, Lucas. Take care . . . "

  "Having your friendship has meant a great deal to me, although there is no need for me to tell you that."

  "No; and the feeling is mutual." Her voice was soft. She sensed that he was thinking as she was—that things might have been very much different between them.

  "Well, good-bye."

  "Not forever, Lucas."

  Then, as though holding a deeper emotion in check, he turned quickly and disappeared through the doors into the parlor.

  By the time Christopher and Kit returned from their excursion, Christopher smiling and carrying his overtired son in his arms, Jessica had bathed and dressed in her most becoming gown. Wrapping her cloak about her, she hurried down the back walk to greet them as they descended from the carriage.

  "Did you have a good day?"

  "Excellent," Christopher beamed. "When Kit is more awake, I am sure he will tell you all about it. We seem to have given life to a budding seaman."

  "And the rest of the day's business?"

  He grew serious. "I spoke to Rhea. I left Kit in the care of one of my crew while I went to the inn. Rhea's fury has not cooled. She left me with the parting words that I will hear more of this when we arrive in New York . . . and no doubt we shall. I sent off a letter to her father this morning, too, explaining my side of the situation. He is a fine gentleman whose respect I do not wish to lose. . . . Well, enough of that. The good news is that Kit and I are on our way to becoming fast friends."

  Kit stirred now, having regained some of his energy "I walk, Daddy. Big boy."

  Jessica lifted her eyebrows at Christopher. "You have made progress."

  Christopher lowered Kit to the ground. "You may walk my boy, but after a snack in the kitchen, I think a nap may be a good idea."

  "Not tired. 'Wake now. I saw big boat, Mama . . . my daddy's boat. I steered, climbed ropes, Daddy show me where I sleep when we go New York. Where you sleep, too.

  "My, it sounds like you had a busy day "

  "Go tell Molly . . . right?"