Love Once Again

by Joann Simon

  Realizing her confusion, Jerome spoke quickly. "I saw you leave the Fishes' party that night and followed you, saw you board the packet." He hesitated, sought for a tactful way of phrasing his next words. "I knew for some time of your husband's activities. I was concerned for you; realized what you must have discovered that evening. A few days ago I came to Eastport and confronted your husband, who told me you were missing. I began to search for you on my own, and at one of the stage stops, overheard St. John asking the clerk questions about you and the children. Realizing we had to be on the same mission, I introduced myself, and we joined forces."

  Jerome's explanation confirmed that Christopher had returned home. But where was he now? What did Jerome mean by taking up the search on his own? Was he implying that Christopher was doing nothing?

  The thought brought Jessica a spasm of pain, and her pride would not allow her to ask the question aloud. She took a deep breath to steady herself. "So, you have found me."

  Lucas stepped closer. "Jessica, it is for the best. You cannot remain hidden away. I know you are resourceful, but you are a woman alone. Think of the rest of us, too, who have been worried to death, afraid some accident had befallen you."

  "We are all safe."

  "Where have you been staying?"

  "Here at the inn."

  "All along? But I have passed through here before."

  "I've done what I could to alter my appearance, and used a false name. And we have stayed close to our rooms."

  He was frowning at her.

  "I know you do not approve of what I did."

  "From what Weitz told me, you had more than just cause. But Jessica, why did you not come to your friends? We would have given you protection."

  "I didn't want to involve you, and the Beards' would have been the first place he . . . he would have looked."

  "It was."

  So, Jessica thought, the smallest shred of hope returning to her, Christopher had looked for them, and a visit to the Beards' would explain why Lucas was involved in the search.

  Curious pedestrians were beginning to stare in their direction. "Perhaps it would be best if we finish this discussion in a more private place," Jerome suggested, taking her arm. "The inn has a parlor where we will not be disturbed?"

  "Yes."

  "Then come."

  Jessica held her ground, gave both men a level look. "I am not ready to go back."

  "We are not going to force you to do anything," Jerome said.

  "I have your word?"

  "You do."

  Jessica looked from Jerome's face to Lucas's; he nodded his agreement.

  She followed them as they tied their horses to the hitching post outside the inn's door and proceeded up the stone steps and inside. The innkeeper was not at his post in the front hall, so there was no one to observe their entrance into the parlor. Jessica gave a sigh of relief, and Jerome directed her toward a table in the furthest corner, where the light from the windows did not penetrate brightly.

  As Jessica fought for control over her whirling emotions, the two men sat quietly. This was not at all what she had expected. The dream she'd held on to of her husband arriving at the inn doors and joyously finding them was a hard one to let die. She cared deeply for both these men, but to have them—and not Christopher—discover her brought a terrible disappointment.

  She heard Lucas speaking and pulled herself from her sad contemplations. "Where are the children?" he asked.

  "Upstairs. Mrs. Bloom, their nursemaid, came along and is watching them."

  Another moment's silence, then Jerome cleared his throat. "We have promised not to coerce you into returning home, but what are your plans? You cannot remain here indefinitely."

  "I can."

  Both men stared at her. "We realize you left Eastport in anger," Jerome continued, "but it is not prudent or healthy for you to stay cooped up in this inn. You must have some plans. Are you going to communicate with your husband? Are you leaving him for good?"

  "I haven't decided. I came here to think. You see, I've known about him and Rhea for some time. Eventually I will have to talk to him, but I'm not ready yet."

  "Jessica." It was Lucas who placed a gentle hand over her clenched ones and forced her to look up from her blind stare at the table top. "I sympathize with you, completely. We have known each other for some time and been good friends. I am furious when I think of all you have been through, the burden you have carried, only to have him treat you as he has done. But much though I dislike the man, I cannot in good conscience let you remain here and not advise him—tell him at least that you and his children are safe."

  "St. John is right, you know," Weitz added. "Since I took up this search entirely on my own, I do not feel as bound to the honorable course, but Lucas would be behaving without principle if he were to keep your whereabouts a secret."

  His words nearly brought Jessica to her feet. "You won't do this! You promised not to coerce me, yet that is precisely what you both are doing. This is a problem between my husband and myself, and it is up to us to resolve it."

  "When you disappeared, you made your problems the concern of all who care about you," Lucas said mildly.

  "I appreciate that concern, but I am perfectly capable of handling my own affairs."

  "You should communicate with your husband," Jerome persisted, "if for no other reason than to tell him you are not returning to him."

  "I've told you: I have not made up my mind what I am going to do."

  "Then for your own safety."

  "I see no reason to fear for our safety here. Why must you interfere?"

  "Please, we are only thinking of your well-being."

  "I'm sorry." Suddenly Jessica sagged back into her chair. "I know you mean well, but you don't understand. I have to be prepared before I face him; have to know exactly what I am going to do." She paused, forced out a question her pride hadn't permitted her to ask until that moment. "What has he to say?"

  "He is worried and anxious. There is no question of that," Weitz said honestly, "although I have not seen him since the day I arrived in Eastport and we exchanged some very harsh words."

  She looked to Lucas, who was frowning. "I have not had personal contact with him either these last few days. Considering my angry feelings, I thought it best to avoid him and have let Bertram communicate any news to him."

  "Bertram Beard is involved in the search?"

  "Of course. Amelia enlisted us both when your husband came to the farm looking for you."

  Jessica sighed, then looked at the two men with pleading eyes. "I understand how you both feel about my remaining hidden, but please give me a few more days. By then, if I have not reached a decision as to what to do, you may tell him where to find us. We won't leave. But to see him now . . ."

  Jerome shook his head, his mouth set in a tight line. "Very well," he said finally. "I will not disclose your secret. I know what my gentlemanly duty is, but my sympathies lie with you, and I know St. John will be near by should you need him. I will return to New York—but I will expect you to keep me informed.

  Otherwise I will be back here interfering in your affairs again posthaste."

  Jessica smiled weakly.

  "I do not think, however, that St. John agrees with my decision."

  "No, I agree. For the same reasons as yours. But only a few days, Jessica," he reminded her.

  "In the meantime I will check in on you every day. Is there anything you need now—anything at all? You have money?"

  "I brought sufficient funds, and the rooms here are inexpensive."

  Jerome reached into his breast pocket, withdrew a card and handed it to her. "Nonetheless, my addresses in New York—the bank and my residence. Do not hesitate for any reason to get in touch with me should you need money. I obviously have the bank at my disposal."

  Jessica took the card. "I do not think I will need the help, Jerome, but should something unforeseen arise . .

  . thank you."

  "My plea
sure. Might I order us some refreshment?"

  "A cup of tea would be wonderful. Let me just speak to Mrs. Bloom so she doesn't worry."

  Jessica found the woman knitting, the two children asleep in the room with her, and told her that she would be downstairs having tea. It was not the time to go into the story of their being found.

  Mrs. Bloom peered up over her spectacles. "Fine, my dear. You enjoy. It is time you got out of these rooms."

  "Would you like me to have something sent up for you?"

  "No, no. I've a kettle boiling on the fire, which is all I need until the children wake. You go ahead."

  Still, Jessica felt a pang of guilt as she left the room. She

  knew Mrs. Bloom did not approve of their extended seclusion, yet she'd been a rock of patience and understanding since their hasty departure from Eastport, asking little, providing a steadying presence for the children.

  Lucas looked up as she approached. "Is everything all right upstairs?"

  She nodded. "The children are asleep."

  A pot of tea was already on the table, and a maid appeared with a tray of simple small sandwiches.

  "Will there be anything else, sir?" she inquired of Jerome.

  "No, thank you." He waited until she was out of the room before speaking again. "Lucas and I have discussed our course of action. After this refreshment, we will leave you." He gave Jessica a steady, probing look. "We do have your promise that you will not streak out for another hiding place."

  "You have my word."

  "I will be by tomorrow to see that all is well," Lucas added, "although I have never been an actor and hope that in the meantime I don't give away to the others my knowledge that you are safe. Amelia and Molly are very worried about you."

  "I wish I could let you tell them the truth, but Amelia couldn't keep such a confidence from her husband

  —and her husband would tell mine."

  He was silent.

  "How is Elizabeth?"

  "Good, although worried for you, too. We have purchased the house across from the mill, and she is busy furnishing it."

  "Your wedding is in two months."

  He nodded.

  "And I have put a blight on the festivities by involving you all in my problems."

  "No. Please let that be the least of your worries. You have enough on your mind at the moment."

  Despite the men's supposed desire for refreshment, the plate of sandwiches lay untouched on the table.

  Jerome began pushing back his chair. "I must go now or miss the last packet to New York." He rose, paused by Jessica's side, took her hand. "I hate to leave you in the midst of your dilemma, but I know there is nothing further I can do for you here. My thoughts will be with you, and remember, I am a friend in waiting should you need me for anything at all."

  "I don't know how to thank you, Jerome."

  "I shall be waiting to hear from you." His eyes were on her face; then he lifted her hand and pressed his lips softly to the back of it. "Take care of yourself."

  In a moment he moved over to Lucas, who had also risen. The two men shook hands firmly. "St. John, a pleasure working with you. I believe our paths will cross again."

  "I believe they shall."

  "You will keep your eye on this lady."

  "Most definitely."

  "Good, although I will not be fully at ease until all of this is settled. Even then—well . . ." He shrugged.

  "Good day, St. John. Jessica." Jerome bowed to her. He studied her briefly once more, then turned and left the room.

  When he was gone, Lucas spoke. "I honestly do not feel right about leaving you here."

  "We will be in Erie."

  "You know to come to us in Silvercreek if you have any problems."

  She nodded, hesitated, then asked quietly. "How much did Jerome tell you?"

  "Substantially all, I believe, of what has been going on the last few months," Lucas said tactfully,

  "although I had my own suspicions right from the start, as he was already engaged to be married to that woman."

  "In fairness to him, Lucas, he thought he would never see us again. He hadn't stopped loving us, and up until recently he's been good to me, particularly when I was so despondent after Mary died."

  "Granted, I am only seeing one side," he said; but his tone was dubious.

  She turned her head away to avoid Lucas's watchful gaze. Her voice was muted, sad. "Perhaps I will find it impossible to forgive him, too. I'm afraid that what has happened would always stand as a barrier between us . . .

  even if he never sees her again. Lucas, do you know. . . did Jerome say . . . whether Christopher was still in touch with her?"

  "Weitz said nothing to me, and even I hesitate to believe your husband could be quite that much the cad. He is terribly concerned about your absence."

  "Mine or the children's?" she said, unable to stop herself from voicing the doubt aloud. She expected no answer from Lucas, and he gave her none.

  He took her hands instead, and squeezed them lightly. "I will be going. I will be back tomorrow."

  Jessica had gone up to her rooms shaken, more confused than ever. She repeated to Mrs. Bloom the events of the previous hour and told her that for the time, the secret of their hiding place remained safe. The woman only shook her head.

  "My dear, it is not my place to criticize, but the children are suffering from this confinement. They need their home. "Tis unnatural to keep them and yourself hidden away like this."

  "Tomorrow we will take them on an outing in the carriage, perhaps bring a picnic lunch."

  " "Twould it not be better to return home and speak to your husband, my dear? Nothing can be settled until you talk to each other."

  Jessica closed her eyes for a moment, then moved toward the windows, away from the well-meaning nursemaid. "Not yet, Mrs. Bloom. Not yet."

  She herself was not sure why she was so opposed to an immediate encounter with Christopher; why she continued putting off that inevitable. Was she afraid that her worst fears would be realized—that the man who greeted her would be cold and unresponsive and turn her away? Such treatment would be far worse than the anxiety she was suffering now.

  Lucas arrived at the inn in late morning the following day, and he and Jessica talked for a while in the parlor. Since Jessica did not want Kit to see Lucas, feeling that

  the sight of a familiar face would only make the child more homesick and discontent, Lucas made his visit a short one, and after he had left, Jessica took the children and Mrs. Bloom on the promised excursion into a nearby, yet private, bit of field and wood. Kit was ecstatic with his newfound freedom, and Jessica was able to forget her troubles for a while as she romped with him through the golden fall meadow. Even Mrs. Bloom seemed happily exhausted as they returned in late afternoon to the inn for an early dinner and bed.

  The next day, however, Lucas would not be satisfied with a brief visit. He was upset that she had not yet come to a decision; begged her, if she would not relent and notify her husband, to come and stay at the Beard farm.

  "You are being unreasonable, Jessica."

  "I am not."

  "If you are not concerned for yourself, think of the worry you are causing others."

  Afraid that the argumentive tone of their voices would reach other ears, Jessica said softly, "Can we go for a short walk, Lucas, and finish this discussion?"

  "Very well."

  Choosing the back entrance of the inn for their exit, she led him onto a seldom used country lane. As they walked, she thrust back the veil of her bonnet—the only remnant of her disguise that she had bothered with that day—and let the fresh air brush her cheeks.

  "You are not afraid of being recognized?" he questioned.

  "I've walked this back road before. It dwindles into a track and is not a route anyone would use unless they lived along it."

  "Part of the reason you have eluded your searchers."

  "I've been cautious." They walked on at a brisk pace, the tensi
on of their disagreement still standing between them.

  Jessica spoke first. "You haven't let on to anyone at the farm that you've found us."

  "No, although my conscience suffers greatly to hear Bertram recount his own fruitless efforts. He tells me that your husband is in a very bad way, too."

  Jessica studied the contours of the rutted lane beneath her feet. Her voice was strained with suppressed emotion when she answered. "In what kind of a bad way?"

  "Distraught. He sleeps and eats little. Your staff quake when he is about the house, his temper is on such sharp edge."

  At the side of the road was a small orchard, and they stepped off between the rows of fruit-laden apple trees.

  "Jessica, don't you think it is time you did something?" She saw his frustration as he pulled his fingers through his thick blond hair. "Your husband's infidelity infuriates me, but I have to have some sympathy with him. It has been over two weeks, and he has no idea whether you and the children are safe or have come to harm. If I were in his shoes, after all the searching that has gone on, I would be fearing the latter."

  He paused, looked over to her silent form. Reaching out, he took her shoulders and turned her to face him.

  "You know I care about you. . . a great deal more than I have ever told you."

  "You've been such a good friend, Lucas, I—"

  "More than a friend." His eyes bore into hers; she could not draw her own away. "All those months while you were with the Beards and counseled and bore with me over my infatuation with Elizabeth, I walked around like a blind man holding on to a dream. One day I woke up and realized it wasn't the pretty little lady who played so merrily with my feelings that I loved most. . . but you. I wanted to tell you. I wanted to ask you to marry me, but you didn't seem ready to accept that declaration. You were still in love and holding out hope for the return of a husband the rest of us were sure was dead or had deserted you. I was willing to wait and be patient. I had already realized the fruitless-ness of my pursuit of Elizabeth, and was going to tell you all this the night of that Christmas balL But we were interrupted, and before I had a chance to speak to you again, Dunlap appeared. I knew then that I no longer had a right to say anything to you about my feelings.