* * *
Hank mentally kicked himself for his clumsy handling of the firewood. When he’d heard the music from outside he’d thought it must be Verity Cooper. Why hadn’t he known Janell could play, and play with such uncharacteristic abandon? Watching her, he’d been entranced by the tumultuous emotions she’d expressed, not only with the music, but also with her whole being.
And then he’d dropped that chunk of firewood and spoiled the moment. “Sorry,” he said, apologizing for interrupting, but not for witnessing what had obviously been a private moment for her. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I didn’t expect anyone to still be here until I heard you playing.”
Looking suddenly shy and vulnerable, she slid from the bench. “That wasn’t intended for an audience.”
He’d already figured that out. “Why hide your talent—you’re very good.”
She tilted her chin up, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “My feelings aren’t so tender that you need to pretend. I know that my performance was less than perfect. The fumbled notes should have been obvious to anyone listening.”
Did she really feel technical perfection was what mattered? Or was she just embarrassed at his having seen a part of her she tried to keep hidden? “But you played it with such passion. That’s better than perfectly hitting all the right notes.” He could tell she was still upset by the interruption. Or was it the spying? He supposed he shouldn’t have intruded on her that way, but he’d been caught off guard as well. And then he’d been trapped by the beauty of her performance.
Deciding to give her the privacy she obviously wanted, Hank crossed the room toward the stove. “Let me just set this down and I’ll leave you to your playing.”
“No need. I was just about to put away a few things here and then meet Lizzie at the boardinghouse.”
That seemed a nice, safe change of subject. “It’s good that you’re getting to spend so much time with your sister.”
“We had a lot of catching up to do.”
For a few moments nothing more was said as he carefully stacked the wood.
Then Janell decided to break the silence. “Thank you for bringing the firewood inside.”
“I don’t mind.”
He watched from the corner of his eye as she retrieved a small stool that she then carried to the closet. As she retrieved a parcel from her desk, he tried not to think that he was lingering just because she was there.
Because that would just make him a besotted fool.
As soon as she stepped up on the stool, he straightened and crossed the room in a few quick strides. “Here now—you shouldn’t be climbing after what happened last time. Why don’t you let me do that for you?”
She gave him a don’t-be-ridiculous frown. “I’ve done this dozens of times.” She placed the box on the top shelf, then turned to smile at him. “There, all done.” But she turned too fast and she wavered, seeming to lose her balance, and she grabbed reflexively for his shoulder.
“Whoa there.” His hands reached for her waist to steady her.
He was loath to release her, even after it was clear she’d regained her balance. She had such a slender waist, one ideally suited for holding on to.
He noticed her hands remained on his shoulder as well.
With her perched on the stool they were nearly eye to eye. And what beautiful, expressive eyes she had. The green flecks were more pronounced at the moment, shining like stars in a cloudless night sky.
The clean, fresh scent of her surrounded him, and the sight of one tendril curling on her forehead made his fingers itch to release the rest of her hair and watch it spill over her shoulders.
Suddenly her eyes widened, and she inhaled, and it was all he could do not to pull her to him. Her face mirrored the same tumultuous emotions she’d displayed earlier when he’d caught her playing the piano. Did she have any idea what she was doing to him?
Then everything inside him stilled. Was that a look of longing, of invitation, in her eyes?
Or merely wishful thinking on his part?
The urge to finally hold her in his arms grabbed him and wouldn’t let go. He placed a hand on her cheek and she leaned into it, snuggling against his palm with a heavy-lidded gaze that finally did him in.
Holding her gaze, making sure there was no hesitation or withdrawal there, he slowly leaned in to kiss her.
* * *
He was going to kiss her.
And, even though Janell knew she shouldn’t, she was going to let him.
When their lips met, she wasn’t disappointed. She’d been kissed before, but never like this. It was as if those other kisses had been pale imitations of what a kiss should be.
This aching tenderness, this gentle claiming, this sweet, sweet feeling of being cherished and needed was something she’d never experienced before.
And she knew, deep down inside, that this was what real love should feel like.
Her hands moved from his shoulders to slip around his neck. He responded by pulling her closer and deepening the kiss, as if he couldn’t get enough.
When they finally pulled apart, Hank couldn’t suppress the wide grin splitting his face. She loved him. There was no way she could kiss him like that if she didn’t.
He stroked her cheek, loving the soft feel of it. He also loved the responsive hitch in her breath at his touch. He’d never felt this tender, this protective, with anyone before.
“Janell Whitman, will you marry me? And before you answer, you should know that I’m not asking for the children’s sake this time, but because I can’t imagine myself marrying anyone else.”
The soft, dreamy expression she wore suddenly changed to a regretful, wounded wall of denial. It was as if she’d been awakened from a pleasant slumber to find her world had turned to ashes.
To his disbelief, she shook her head and took a step back. “I’m sorry. I truly do care for you, but I can’t marry you.”
Hank clenched his jaw. He’d thought for sure this time she would say yes. Had he misinterpreted her feelings again? Had that kiss truly meant nothing to her?
The fact that she’d used almost the same words both Agnes and Willa had did nothing to boost his confidence or his spirits.
“Are you telling me I’ve been reading you wrong, that you don’t have feelings for me?” He couldn’t quite mask the spark of disappointment surging through him. Whether it was aimed at Janell for her mixed signals, or aimed inward for putting himself in this position yet again, he wasn’t certain.
She reached a hand out as if to touch his face, then let it fall back to her side. “I didn’t say that.”
“Then what is it?” Why did the women he cared for, and who claimed to care for him, fall short of making a commitment to him?
She turned away from him and his anger ebbed as concern took its place. It wasn’t like the outspoken schoolteacher to hide from a confrontation. Whatever was troubling her, he needed to get to the heart of it—for her sake, if not for his.
He placed his hands on her shoulders. “Help me understand.”
She nodded with an air of resignation rather than true agreement. “There’s something I need to tell you.” Her voice wavered and she took a breath. “Something I tried to leave behind me when I moved here.” She turned around to face him again. “It’s something I’ve only ever told one other person here in Turnabout.”
Whatever it was, he could see it wasn’t going to be easy for her to talk about. He felt honored that she would trust him, if not with her heart, with this at least.
Her jaw tensed. “And once I tell you, you’ll understand why marriage is impossible for me.”
Not marriage to him, but marriage in general. That he could fight. “You’re not going to tell me you’re already married, are you?” he teased. He’d expected her to either smile at
his statement or give him an offended look. What he hadn’t expected was the guilty flush coloring her cheeks.
“Not exactly.” Her gaze didn’t meet his.
“Not exactly? What in the world does that mean? Either you are or you aren’t.”
This time she did look up, her gaze troubled. “I was married.”
“You’re a widow?” Why would she hide such a thing—it was nothing to be ashamed of.
She shook her head.
“Then what—”
“I’m a divorcée.”
That set him back on his heels. Divorced.
And she’d kept it secret from everyone here for all this time. Would the town council have even considered her as a schoolteacher if they’d known?
More to the point, how did he feel about it? He tried to fit what he knew of Janell with the image the word divorcée conjured up, and it didn’t seem possible.
He glanced up and saw her watching him, resignation and hurt cloaking her normally outgoing spirit. And just like that, he knew exactly how he felt about it.
He took her hands. “Janell, I’m so sorry some poor excuse of a man put you through this. But believe me, that doesn’t change how I feel about you one whit. Whoever this lout was that you married, whatever he did to force you to take this step, losing you is his loss and my gain.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “But don’t you understand what I said? What it means? What if word got out? You can’t want your name linked with someone with such scandalous history. And you definitely don’t want the children bearing that burden.”
“You’re not giving me, or the people of Turnabout, enough credit. Think about it. Two of our leading citizens spent a number of years in prison. Several local marriages over the years have been the result of social pressure. Yet no one treats these individuals like pariahs. So why would you think they would treat you differently?”
“Because I’ve experienced it firsthand.”
The bitterness in her voice shocked him. Her former husband must have done something truly reprehensible to force her to take such drastic action. Already he felt his anger at this unnamed ex-husband burn inside him.
“Well, you won’t get that sort of reaction from me, nor from most of the townsfolk, I’d venture. It’s obvious you wouldn’t have divorced the man if you hadn’t had good reason to do so.” What had the man done? So help him, if the low-down skunk had hurt her physically, he’d track the man down and—
“You still don’t understand.” Her voice sounded small, miserable. She withdrew her hands and turned her back to him again.
He placed his hands on her shoulders once more, feeling the tension radiate from her. “Then explain it to me.”
She took a deep breath, then blurted out her confession. “I didn’t divorce him. He divorced me.”
Again Hank tried to make sense of her words. There were very few reasons he could think of that would compel a judge to grant a divorce. And he couldn’t imagine Janell would be guilty of any of them.
He drew her to her desk and seated her in the chair before propping a hip on the desk itself and facing her. “Will you trust me enough to tell me the whole story?”
She nodded and tucked a strand behind her ear with fingers that visibly trembled. “I was nineteen when I married Gregory. I could tell my father had reservations about him, but Gregory was such a dashing, charismatic gentleman that I felt I was the luckiest girl alive. After the wedding we moved thirty miles from my parents so that Gregory could take a job with a prestigious law firm.”
Hank felt an intense dislike for the man. But he was also worried. She admired a man because he was dashing and charismatic? If so, his suit with her was doomed from the outset.
“During that first year of our marriage,” she continued, “I was able to make only one visit home, because Gregory was trying to establish his career and he didn’t like the idea of me traveling without him. I missed my parents and Lizzie, but Gregory and I were building a new life together.” She paused a moment. “Gregory was very busy with his career, but I understood that. And I was determined to be the perfect wife.”
Something about the way she said that told him she hadn’t had an easy time of it.
“Then, shortly after our first anniversary, Lizzie took sick with the measles. It was a very bad case and I received several telegrams telling me she was asking for me. I wanted to go to her, but Gregory kept putting it off, saying we would leave the next day, but something always came up to delay our departure. And he kept reminding me that there wasn’t anything I could do that the doctors weren’t already doing.”
She was wringing her hands now. “Then I got word that complications from the measles had rendered Lizzie deaf. This time, when I read the telegram, I didn’t give Gregory a chance to stop me. I packed a bag, left him a note and departed immediately for Dentonville.”
Good for her. “And your husband objected?”
“He was angry that I had left without consulting him. But he also sent wishes for Lizzie’s recovery. I immersed myself in helping my sister get back on her feet. It was awful. Partly because in her anger over her situation, she blamed me, saying if I’d only come when she asked me to, the results might have been different.”
“You can’t truly think she still believes that. It’s clear as day that she loves you.”
Janell only shrugged. “Regardless, that was how she felt at the time, which made it difficult for me to get through to her. My vibrant little sister retreated into her own world, a shadow of her former self, withdrawing to the point of shutting out everyone who loved her.”
Based on what he’d witnessed with Chloe, he could imagine.
“As for Gregory, after a week had passed, he became insistent that I return home, saying that I’d done all that could be expected of me. I explained to him that Lizzie wasn’t dealing well with her situation and that she and my parents needed my support. But Gregory was angry that I considered helping with my sister more important than resuming my role as his wife, as if the two things were mutually exclusive. I received several letters from him demanding that I return home. By the third week, he came in person and tried to force me to go back to our home in Havington with him.”
Hank could hold his tongue no longer. “The man is a self-centered lout.”
She gave a tiny smile at that. “Perhaps so. But he was also my husband. When I refused to leave, backed by my father, Gregory told me I’d be sorry. Then he stormed out and headed back to Havington without me.”
He took her hands. “You did the right thing. A better man would have understood and supported you during such a time, not made matters worse for you.”
“Gregory didn’t see it that way. He filed for divorce on the grounds of my having abandoned him and our marriage. And since he was a well-respected lawyer, with all the right connections, he won. Before I really knew what had happened, I was a divorced woman.”
Seeing her vulnerable, shamefaced demeanor made Hank want to track down this fool Gregory and pound him into the ground. Instead, he gave her hands a gentle squeeze. “Listen to me. This was not your fault. The man is lower than a dung beetle. You’re well rid of him.”
She shook her head. “I’m a failure as a wife and an embarrassment to my family.”
He raised a brow at the last part of her statement. “They told you that?”
She waved a hand dismissively. “No, of course not. My family loves me and always stands behind me, come what may. But whenever I am home, the stigma of divorce comes with me and the whispers and speculation bleed over to my family. I can’t allow that to happen. That’s why I don’t go home anymore. At least with me here, far removed from Dentonville, they aren’t burdened with such unpleasantness.”
“If what I’ve observed from your sister is any indication, I think they would rather
bear with the gossip than be apart from you for so long.”
She didn’t say anything at that, merely made a noncommittal sound. Then she returned to the original topic. “So you see, I’m not really the kind of woman who should be marrying anyone.”
“You haven’t said anything to make me believe that. I’ve already told you, I don’t see any of this as your fault. Any man worth his salt, who would care for you as you deserve, would have understood and supported your desire to be with your sister.”
She shook her head. “I appreciate you’re trying to make me feel better, but it’s not true that I bear no blame. I said my vows before God to honor and obey my husband until death us do part, and I failed.”
“But he made vows as well. And his violation of those vows was the more egregious.”
She smiled regretfully. “Perhaps so, especially since he remarried and now has children. But his failing does not offset mine.” She glanced down at her hands. “Besides, a small part of me, I’m ashamed to say, resisted going home with him because I no longer loved him.”
That softly spoken confession gave him renewed hope. “Do you love me?”
Her gaze flew up to meet his. “What?”
“I asked, do you love me? Because to me, nothing else matters.”
“I do. I do love you. But I can’t marry you.”
“If you can’t marry me because I’m not the kind of man you’re looking for—if I’m not rich or sophisticated enough, if I’m not dashing or charming enough—then just say so. If, like Agnes and Willa, you think of me as a good man, just not a good husband, then say that as well.”
She placed a hand lightly against his chest. “Oh, no, please don’t think that. You’re the kind of man any girl would be blessed to have as a husband. It’s just that...”
Hank focused on the I-do-love-you part of her statement, confident he could overcome whatever arguments she could summon. “Just what?”
“Just that I can’t. I let my father down, I let my husband down and I let my sister down. Three people I was closest to and wanted to bring joy to. Instead I brought them nothing but pain and disappointment. If I allowed myself to marry you, it would happen all over again. I can’t go through that another time. I can’t find myself breaking the heart of someone I love.”
The Holiday Courtship Page 21