by Holly Bush
Jolene watched Maximillian turn and walk away towards the barns. Horrid man! To remind her in such a crude fashion, here, where one of the servants may have overheard him, that she’d succumbed last night. She’d forgotten everything she’d learned over the years about keeping her emotions, her heart, firmly guarded and had been open with and to him, if only in the physical sense, and he knew that, and damn him, if he wasn’t using it against her!
Jolene spent the day and much of the next in her rooms. Alice hovered about, unpacking her things and fetching her tea and meals. Jolene remained silent until Melinda slipped past Alice as she carried in her luncheon.
“Are you sick?” the girl asked.
Jolene shook her head.
“I wore my split skirt yesterday and tried the side saddle. I wanted to be good at it before you got home, but it is hard,” Melinda said. “I changed into a dress for dinner both days, even though I ate in the kitchens.”
“Side saddle is hard, especially if all you’ve ridden is a work saddle all your life,” Jolene said finally.
“Am I not to have classes today?”
Jolene stared at Melinda. As much as she wished to be angry, to continue to be furious with herself and with her situation, she found there was less and less justification, less steam to her fury, once she was realistic, and why take it out on Melinda in any regard. She was married. It was a fact. She and her husband had had sex, which on its own was certainly unremarkable, other than that it was glorious and rapturous. He husband was a very sexy man. Married women had sex, of their own desires, or more often because they were required to, all the time.
She remembered listening to Lenora, oh, how she hated that woman, but she remembered her talking about her husband, Martin. Never a night passed that he did not tell her to strip and spread her legs. If she protested, he held her hands over her head and rolled on top of her. While the telling sounded boorish, and even brutal, Lenora was content with and even, Jolene suspected, obliging and satisfied, to their semi-truthful pretense of master and supplicant. And otherwise, Martin denied Lenora nothing.
For herself, Jolene did not need a man to demand her attention to feel desirous of him. She had wanted Turner from the moment she met him. She’d been hopeful then and triumphant in gaining the eye of such a handsome man who was in her father’s favor. Oh, she reveled in Turner’s attention and his impatience for their wedding night. That night had been anxious at first for her and Turner both, but they were both ready to explore each other. And they did, many times until the dawn broke. Jolene could remember the contentedness she felt, the hopefulness, as if a world away from her mother’s scorn and censure was within in her grasp with a man that she dared believe she loved and knew that she desired. Ah, how quickly that hopefulness drained away. But sex with Maximillian was nothing like sex with Turner. Oh, no. Maximillian’s sex appeal was because of who he was and how he treated her, let alone how gorgeous and manly he was when he shed his clothes.
Jolene sat up on the edge of the chaise. Melinda sat down beside her.
“Daddy said you charmed every man, woman, and child within a mile of that ballroom on Saturday night. How did you do it?” she asked.
“Your father is being overly kind,” Jolene said.
Melinda looked at Alice. “How did she do it?”
Alice looked up with a small smile and a glance to Jolene. “Mrs. Shelby is a beautiful accomplished woman, and she chooses gowns and such that show her features in their best light, Miss Melinda.”
Melinda faced her. “I want to do that. I want to look beautiful and accomplished.”
“The best method for that is to be accomplished, and you are already beautiful. Which means we best get to the classroom. There are Latin verbs to conjugate.”
Melinda ran off and Jolene urged her to walk. She looked at Alice. “Well, I’d best get dressed. I’m apparently going to the classroom. By the way, how was the play?”
Alice looked up quickly, and her face colored. She turned her attention back to Jolene’s gown now spread on the bed. “It was wonderful. The play was wonderful. Thank you.”
“The theatre was not far from the hotel, was it, Alice? Mr. Shelby did ask the desk clerk.”
“No, ma’am. It was not far at all. Just a restaurant between the hotel and the theatre entrance. I have saved my playbill.”
“I am glad you enjoyed it.”
Alice stood straight and turned to Jolene. She took a deep breath and held her hands at her waist. “Mr. Moran came with me, ma’am. I did not ask him to. I wanted you to know that.”
“To the play, Alice?” Jolene asked and Alice nodded. “I’m sure you were the model of decorum. Be careful, though, Alice. We do not know Mr. Moran well, and we are here permanently. Do not let yourself be in a situation where you would want to leave the Hacienda. I believe you would miss your new life here . . . and I would miss you as well.”
Alice’s eyes filled with tears. “I do not want to leave. I am happy here.”
“Then you must be particularly careful.”
Alice gathered Jolene’s dresses in her arms and hurried through to the dressing room. Jolene spent the next two hours in the classroom with Melinda until Maria knocked on the door.
“A letter for you, Mrs. Shelby,” she said
“Thank you, Maria,” Jolene said and took the letter. She looked at Melinda. “Continue with your reading for another half an hour, and then you are dismissed. I am going to read this letter from my sister, Julia, in the meantime.”
“You have a sister?”
“Yes. I have two sisters, Jennifer and Julia, both younger than I,” she said.
“I wish Daddy and you would give me a sister,” Melinda said.
Jolene’s face colored. “That is highly unlikely, so there is little value in considering it.”
“I know how babies are made,” Melinda said and stared at Jolene.
“Do you?”
Melinda nodded. “I listen to the men talking and see the horses in the corral. It is an odd thing. Is it the same for boys and girls?”
“Young ladies do not discuss this topic, Melinda. It is unsuitable.”
“Why not?”
“It is adult business, that is why. You must trust me on this. There will be a time when you have changes in your body. I will discuss things with you then.”
“What changes?”
“You will know when they happen. Come directly to me, and I will tell you what to do. We will discuss other things as well at that time,” she said.
Melinda nodded solemnly. Jolene took her letter and climbed the steps to her rooms. Now she was committed to a conversation that she never, ever envisioned having, especially after William’s death, and her and Turner’s differences were no longer reconcilable even for short periods of time. Bother! With each interaction she became more entwined with Melinda’s life, and she must face the fact now that at some point Melinda would disappoint and hurt her. She knew with a sudden realization that the girl had some power over her. Jolene liked her. She thought Melinda had great potential. She was kind and forthright, two attributes Jolene would have dismissed in her past. Melinda would experience pain herself as she grew up; it was inevitable for a person who was involved in other’s lives. But more than that, Jolene was concerned that she cared for Melinda, perhaps even more than caring. Jolene was unsure if she could identify the emotion, but she she thought perhaps she was coming to love Melinda at some level. How perturbing!
Jolene stretched out on her chaise and opened Julia’s letter.
Dear Jolene,
How wonderful it was to receive a letter from you! I never anticipated getting a response. I must tell you I particularly relished the paragraph you wrote about telling Mother that you were leaving to marry Maximillian.
I did have a reckoning with my past. It began the day I went back to Boston to get Jillian. It did not end until much later. I have found it difficult, even when I’m well aware of my behavior, to change it. A
s I said previously, I was still resentful and angry even after coming home with Jake. I had to make a conscious effort to stop myself from reliving the past and rehashing mistakes.
It sounds as though you may be fortunate enough to have a husband who will help you like mine did me. If he is kind, as you say he is, why dwell on the unhappiness of your first marriage? If he is concerned with your well-being and happiness, why dwell on Mother’s bitterness?
I am truly happy that I have a new niece - Melinda. All of us would like to hear more about her. She will be a trial in a few years, I’m sure, as she becomes a young lady. But I am terribly glad that she has you and you have her.
I do remember Grandmother Crawford. She loved us so dearly. What a stark contrast to our own upbringing. For years I had misinterpreted Mother’s criticism as love. Criticism is not love. Love was Grandmother Crawford with her hugs and kisses and a pocket full of candy.
I have often thought of asking Jennifer for an extended stay here, but our home is remote and our social life consists of weekly Sunday dinners at our home or at one of Jake’s sister’s homes. Perhaps Dallas would be more fitting for her.
Please do not stop writing because of what I am about to say. I know I have never said how truly sorry I was that events transpired with Turner that should not have occurred; however, I will never be sorry I had Jillian. She is a light in my life, and I don’t regret anything that gave her to me. But as I look back, which I did for quite a few months on my return here, I realized I should never have trusted what Mother told me. I accepted it as gospel, and I wonder now if it was true. She told me that your and Turner’s engagement was off, that you’d found someone else, and that perhaps Turner would be interested in me. She helped me fix my hair that evening and choose a dress. It was so unlike Mother, and I was so thirsty for her approval that I believed everything, including when she told me that you did not care for him and that I had best be prepared “to give him everything” if I were to snag him before some other debutante did. I would have never accepted his advances if Mother had not told me that you were uninterested. And then, of course, I fell in love with him, or, at least, thought I had.
I went to Aunt Mildred’s shortly after, if you remember, and Mother wrote me that you’d made up with Turner and that the wedding was on. I was mortified. You see, I worshipped you - your style and thin body and grace and cool-headedness. I never set out to hurt you, but I did. I’ve often wondered how you found out that Turner and I had been together. I don’t put it past Mother to have told you at some unfortunate time.
Please write again. I want to hear more about your new family.
With all my sincerest love,
Julia
Jolene read the final two paragraphs and then reread it with a clenched jaw. She’d always blamed Julia for trying to steal Turner and for being so loose as to literally raise her skirts in the gazebo behind Willow Tree. But Julia had no reason to not tell the truth now. It was true, and the blame she’d always placed on Julia would deservedly be placed on Mother. She should have known they’d been manipulated! Jolene jumped up from the chaise, ran downstairs and to the stables. Pete saddled her horse hurriedly, and she rode out across the open fields as fast as she dared and rode until she could no longer see the Hacienda. She let the wind whip through her hair and sting her eyes. Jolene slowed her horse and trotted across the empty grasslands ahead. She felt tears at the back of her eyes but would not allow herself a cry. What a fool she’d been! Blaming Julia for all these years. Wasting energy bottling up feelings of betrayal and anger so that no one knew she’d been deeply hurt. She heard hoof beats in the distance and turned in her saddle.
“Jolene!” Maximillian shouted as he rode up beside her, causing her horse to dance and whinny. “What in the hell is the matter with you, woman?”
“What are you talking about, Maximillian?” she shouted. “There is nothing the matter with me!”
“Riding off like some crazed fool out into deserted territory! There are poachers and thieves and all other kinds of bad actors about. Do you know what they’d do with a woman like you? Do you?”
Jolene shook her head.
“They’d lift your skirts and then sell you across the border, Jolene!”
She looked up at him. “Nothing has happened, Maximillian.”
“Well, it could have if Pete didn’t come get me as soon as you cleared the yard. He wasn’t even sure which way you went. Do you even know which way the Hacienda is?”
“I needed some time alone. I had to get away from everyone,” she said. “I suppose I owe you an apology.”
“Jesus, woman,” he said as moved his horse closer until he was leg to leg with Jolene. He grabbed the back of her head, pulled her forward and kissed her hard. “I don’t want to lose you.”
Maximillian pulled on her horse’s bridle till she was turned around. They rode in silence till they arrived at the Hacienda. He lifted Jolene from her mount and held her still. “No more running off again. I can’t take it.”
Chapter Thirteen
Max had spent too much of his day thinking about what could happen to an unarmed, unprepared woman in the wilds of Texas. But it wasn’t just any woman. It was Jolene, and the thought of his wife in danger was terrifying. Now he pushed his food around on his plate, half-sick with the thought, and wondered what had prompted Jolene’s hurried ride.
“What did you sister’s letter say?” Melinda asked Jolene. “Are you going to read it to us? Daddy always reads the letters out loud from Granddaddy and Grandma Shelby.”
Jolene shook her head. “I will not be reading my letter aloud.”
“A letter? I didn’t know you got a letter, Jolene,” Max said. “That’s an occasion around here. We even make Zeb read his letters from his mother.”
“Please pass the rolls to Mr. Moran, Melinda,” Jolene said.
“Please, Jolene,” Melinda said. “I didn’t even know you had sisters till today. Where do they live? Do I have cousins? Aunt Eugenia and Uncle Calvin don’t have any children.”
Jolene was silent, staring down at her plate. Just as he thought Melinda was about to launch into another plea, he changed the subject and talked to Zeb about connections he’d made at the Cattlemen’s Ball.
Melinda looked at Jolene. “May I please be excused?”
“You may,” he said when Jolene did not respond.
Max watched Jolene as she ate small bites and sipped her wine. There was little color in her face, and he wondered if the letter Melinda mentioned set off her ride and her disengagement during dinner. Melinda had gone, and Zeb stood to leave as well. Jolene pushed back her chair abruptly and stood. Zeb caught her chair before it hit the floor.
“Excuse me,” she said. “Excuse me.”
Max watched her hurry from the room and looked at Zeb. “I wonder what was in the letter.”
“You’re the husband. It’s your job to find out, I imagine.”
Max sipped a whiskey and figured Zeb was probably right. He poured a brandy for Jolene and carried both drinks to her room.
“Jolene?” he said as he knocked. He waited a few minutes with no response. “Jolene. I’ve brought you a brandy.”
A door down the hallway opened. Alice walked out. “Mr. Shelby?”
“Yes, Alice?”
“Mrs. Shelby is lying down and did not want to be disturbed.”
Max walked over to the maid. “At seven in the evening? Did she go to bed already? Is she sick?”
“She is not in her bed, sir.”
“But she’s not feeling well?” Max asked.
Alice shook her head. “She told me I was no longer needed for this evening. I am in my rooms. But I shouldn’t say more, sir. It is not my place.”
“Thank you, Alice,” he said and watched the maid close her door.
Max was pretty certain that his wife was hurting badly. He didn’t know what to do to help her, but he sure couldn’t do anything standing in the hall outside her room. He tested her doo
rknob, and it turned.
“I’m coming in, Jolene. I’m just warning you in case you aren’t decent,” he said. Max listened for any hurried movements but heard nothing and opened the door. Jolene was lying on her side, with her back to him, on the chaise near the balcony.
Max sat the glass of brandy down on the table beside her.
“Get out,” she said.
“I’m not leaving, Jolene, so you might as well roll over and tell me what the problem is.”
She rolled over, sat up and slipped her feet into slippers. “Get out. These are my private rooms.”
“I’m not leaving.”
Jolene stood, her face red with anger, and picked up the glass of brandy. She threw the liquor in his face, and hurled the glass across the room. “Get out!” she screamed.
There was knocking from a door in Jolene’s dressing room, and he heard Alice calling. “Mrs. Shelby! Are you alright, ma’am? Mrs. Shelby?”
Max pulled his hanky from his back pocket and wiped his face. Jolene was red-faced, but he thought perhaps now more due to embarrassment than anger. Jolene walked into her dressing room and spoke quietly at the door to Alice’s room. She came out and bent down to gather broken glass from the floor near her desk.
“I suppose I have made some progress. Had any staff heard breaking glass behind a door at Landonmore, they would have known better than to inquire. You see it was a constant there.”
Max knelt down and held out his hanky for Jolene to put the broken glass in.
“I’m sorry, Maximillian,” she said without looking at him. “Very sorry.”
“Don’t cut yourself, Jolene.” She stood and seated herself on the chaise. Max sat down on the chair beside her. “Would you like more brandy?”
Jolene didn’t answer, but he sent Alice to bring the bottle. He had a niggling feeling Jolene might need it, and he may need a swig or two by the time he left her room. He picked up an envelope lying on the table beside him, and Jolene watched him as he did.