Jessie Belle: The Women of Merryton - Book One (8 page)

“Hello.”

“Jessica.”

“That’s
me.”

“I
just got back to the hotel, so I thought I would call.”

I
waited for him to say something else. I wasn’t sure what to say to him. I was
on the verge of crying, but I didn’t want him to know that. I knew this wasn’t
easy for him and I even knew he wasn’t trying to hurt me, but the pain was
still there.

“What’s
wrong?” he asked.

Why
did he have to start being in tune with me now? “Tell me how your day went.”

“Tell
me what’s bothering you first.”

“I
really don’t want to talk about it.”

“I
know this his hard for you. I’m sorry.”

“So,
how’s Madeline?”

He
paused for a moment. I felt bad I was making him be cautious about his own
daughter. “She’s lively.”

“Lively?”

“She
talks a lot.”

“That’s
normal for girls her age.”

“Then
she’s very normal.” I could hear the smile in his voice.

“You
got along then?”

“Yeah,”
he said relieved.

“I’m
glad. So, what did you guys do?”

“Not
much. I wasn’t sure how comfortable she would be with me, so we mostly stayed
at their apartment and talked.”

“So,
Sabrina was there?”

“Yes,
of course. She asked about you.”

“And
what did you tell her?”

“I
told her you ran your own café.” 

“How
impersonal of you.”

“What
was I supposed to tell her?”

“I
don’t know, you could have lied and told her I was the best wife ever and
beautiful and what a lucky guy you are to have married me.”

“That
wouldn’t be a lie, but Jessica, what’s wrong?”

“Maybe
it’s the fact that you spent all day with a woman you slept with and then had a
child with! Or maybe it’s that I’m jealous because I can never give that to
you.”

“Jess,
there is no reason for you to be jealous. I’m not attracted to Sabrina in the
least. And I didn’t marry you because of the children you could give me. I’ve
told you from the beginning I would love you whether we had children or not.
But sometimes I wonder if you feel the same about me. Can you love me without
children?”

The
ever-present tears fell from my eyes. I took several deep breaths. That
question stopped me dead in my tracks. My first thought was
of course
.
When I married him, it was for him and only him, but as the years had gone by
that focus shifted. I’d lost sight of our marriage. “Blake, how did it all get
so messed up?”

“I
don’t know.”

“Would
you have come after me if you knew about Madeline from the beginning?”

“Without
a doubt. The question is would you have taken me back?”

“That
is a good question.” It was one I didn’t have an answer to.

“I’m
leaving here first thing tomorrow morning. When I get back into town, I’ll come
pick you up and take you out to lunch.”

“You
realize I own a café, right?”

“Is
that what that is?”

I
was surprised he responded with sarcasm. That wasn’t his style, but I liked it.
“That’s what the sign says.”

“I
want to speak to you without getting the whole town involved.”

“That
will be easier said than done.”

“I
know.”

“I
guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll
probably be there around one.”

“Sounds
good.”

“Jess
…”

“Yeah.”

“I
miss you.”

“I
miss you, too.”

I
dressed with a purpose that morning. I chose some fabulous fitted jeans that
showcased my figure and paired them with a violet blouse that I belted at the
waist. I even ventured outside the norm and threw on some leather wedges. I
added some volume to my hair, applied my make-up, and called it good. As I
looked myself over in my long, free-standing mirror, I almost recognized
myself. My skin was even glowing and the blue was coming out in my hazel eyes.
It’s amazing the benefits you gain from eating real food and from caring about
your appearance.

Blake
hadn’t complained about my appearance, but he hadn’t complimented it, either. It’s
not that he would; he wasn’t one to really dish out compliments. He never even
said anything one way or the other when I cut six inches off my hair several
weeks ago.

I
went into work early and tried hard to be myself. I missed talking to my
morning crowd at the café. And by the response I received, I was missed,
especially from one group in particular.

There
was the cutest bunch of “mature” ladies that set up shop in my café each
morning. They each brought some project or another to work on—from knitting to
scrapbooking. They also brought a computer and watched reruns of the show
Reba
,
all while eating scones and sipping tea and coffee. I told Cheyenne and Abby
that would be us someday. Abby was on board, Cheyenne, not so much. Doris,
Ingrid, Fran, and Gerri stopped me as I walked by.

“You’re
looking quite attractive this morning. Do you have a hot date?” Fran teased me.

“This
early in the morning?”

“Morning
dates are the best—it meant the night before never ended.” Doris winked at me.

Cheyenne
was going to be the Doris in our group.

I
shook my head at my seventy-year-old friend. “Blake and I do have a lunch date
later.”

“Lunch,”
Ingrid said. “Is that what you kids are calling it now?”

“You
ladies are a lot of trouble. You know that, right?” I grinned at them all.

They
all laughed and admitted wholeheartedly that they were. 

“Well,
have a good day. Try not to get into too much trouble.”

“You
have fun at ‘lunch,’” Doris said with an impish grin.

I
didn’t respond. I knew what she was talking about wasn’t on the menu and it
hadn’t been for some time. I could hear the rumors now if people only knew we
were sleeping in separate bedrooms. I tried not to let that thought get to me.
It was a good thing we were stepping back and reevaluating, right?

I
greeted several more customers before I made my way back to the counter. There
sat Easton. Normally he took his food to go in the mornings, so I was intrigued
as to why he was there.

“Easton,”
I said as I stood across from him behind the counter.

He
looked up from the
Merryton Daily Press
he was reading. He didn’t look
well at all. His eyes were bloodshot and he was going way beyond the five
o’clock shadow. He was an attractive man, but the scraggly beard did not suit
him.

“Are
you okay?” I asked when he didn’t say anything. He almost seemed paralyzed.

“Have
you ever had a moment in your life where you knew exactly what you should do,
but you didn’t do it, even knowing the outcome wouldn’t end well if you didn’t
act?”

I
thought for a moment as I watched him. I felt like his eyes were begging me for
relief, but I didn’t know what to say or do. He looked about two seconds away
from losing it. “Easton,” I said quietly, “what’s happened?”

“The
outcome from not going after her.”

“Are
you talking about Kathryn?” I leaned in and whispered. I didn’t want to start
the rumor mill this morning.

The
look of disgust on his face when I mentioned his wife’s name was more than
telling. “I’m talking about Taylor.”

A
hush could be felt across the café at the mention of his ex-wife’s name. I
could feel the eyes on us. Easton didn’t seem to care. I guess the rumors about
Kathryn weren’t just rumors.

I
acted cautiously as I reached out and touched his hand. “Blake and I are here
if you and Emmy need anything.”

That
seemed to bring him to his senses. He looked around and everyone quickly went
back to what they were doing. Dawning crossed Easton’s face, but he didn’t seem
to care. “Thanks, Jessie,” he said as he stood up and threw a twenty-dollar
bill on the counter. He walked out to the stares of many of the patrons. I
could hear the gossip starting.

I
walked back to my office and was almost tempted to message Taylor on Facebook.
We hadn’t communicated in a while and I wondered if she knew what was going on
with her ex-husband. Did she know that Easton regretted not going after her?
Not that it mattered now, I guess. Their drama all took place not too long
after Blake and I got married. I could tell something was off between the two
of them at our reception, but I figured it was normal stuff all couples go
through. Though Taylor and I rarely discussed Easton when we talked, I do
remember her saying about a year after she left, “It’s like I never existed to
him.” She sounded utterly defeated. I almost talked to Easton about it, but by
that time he was with Kathryn. We all knew it wasn’t a match made in heaven.
Kathryn went to school with us, and she and Veronica were friends—enough said.
I always knew Easton would come to regret that decision. A beautiful face and long
legs do not always equate with a beautiful person.

I
went to work going through invoices—I had my own relationship issues to worry
about. Good news for Easton though, as soon as it came out that Blake had a
daughter, the rumor mill would be back to churning around us.

At
one-thirty there was a knock on my door. I stood up and smoothed my shirt. I
wasn’t sure why I felt nervous. I hadn’t ever felt that away around Blake. It
was one of things that drew me to him. He had this way of making me feel like I
belonged with him, not to him like a possession, but as part of him. I wanted
to feel that way again.

I
opened the door to find him standing there looking different than I was used to
seeing him. He cleaned up well. He was still in jeans and a t-shirt, but they
were clean and fit him exactly right. Marrying a health nut had its advantages,
I suppose. I could see his muscles flex as he shoved his hands in his pockets
like he was nervous, too. It made me smile.

“Hi,”
I said.

“Are
you ready to go?”

“Let
me grab my bag.”

He
waited for me as if he wasn’t sure what to do and I quickly joined him. We were
acting like we hadn’t done this before. It had been awhile, but this was
ridiculous. The thought occurred to me that we needed to put on a show of sorts
as we walked down the hall to the seating area. I reached out and grabbed his
hand and held it. I knew he would never think to do it. Blake wasn’t a
touchy-feely kind of guy. And I felt like I needed to show him I was trying,
too.

In
a rare showing, his smile appeared as he looked down at our entwined hands. He squeezed
tight and it sent a little flutter through my stomach. This was good,
especially as we walked through the crowded café. We were playing the part of
happy couple convincingly by the smiles and nods we received. I felt guilty in
a way, like we were pretending, but I figured it was a start. Maybe if I could
fake it for a while it would eventually become real. It was worth a shot. For
good measure I leaned into him as we walked out the door. I felt like I was
doing damage control.

We
walked to his truck and he let go of my hand as soon as we reached it. In true
Blake fashion, the only gentlemanly thing he did was press the unlock button on
his key fob.

When
we were both settled and securely buckled in he asked me, “Can you take the
afternoon off?”

I
nodded, very curious. This was not Blake’s style at all. And I couldn’t
remember the last time we had spent an afternoon together.

“Do
you mind if we head up into the canyon?”

“Not
at all.” I looked down at my shoes. “Do I need to change?”

He
looked over at me. “No.” He started the truck and drove off without another
word.

“How
was your flight?” I asked out into the silence of the cab of the truck.

“On
time.”

I
almost laughed at him. He was so cut and dry. I knew once upon a time I had
found it charming. “Blake?”

“Yeah,”
he said as he looked straight ahead.

“Can
we pretend I’m your wife?”

He
looked over, confused. “You are my wife.”

“Then
maybe I could get more than one or two words out of you at a time.”

He
looked at me thoughtfully for a second. “How was your day?”

It
wasn’t exactly what I was looking for, but I would take it. “Interesting.
Easton came in this morning. I think he and Kathryn have split up.”

He
didn’t respond, but I could see the wheels spinning in his mind.

“Did
you know about that?”

“Yes.”

“And
…?”

“I
think it’s for the best.”

I
turned toward the window. This was a nowhere conversation. I wasn’t digging for
dirt; I only wanted some real conversation. The scenery somewhat made up for
the silence. I loved to see the aspens in full bloom and the wildflowers that
dotted the roadside. This was my favorite time of year. The snow had melted, or
at least most of it had, depending on the elevation, and everything seemed
alive. I loved the way the sun glistened through the newly budded trees. It
even had me feeling alive.

“Jessica,”
Blake said after several silent minutes.

“Hmm
…” I said toward the window.

“I
don’t want to talk about the demise of Easton’s marriage right now. Can you
understand that?”

“Yeah.”
I supposed it wasn’t the best conversation to have when your own marriage
wasn’t rock solid.

The
rest of the ride was silent. The radio was even turned off. Blake eventually
pulled off onto a little side road that led to a rustic campsite near the
river. We had been there before, but it had been years. When I was growing up,
this was a favorite make-out spot. When Blake moved to town we frequented the
spot—it was an activity that didn’t involve any speaking, so it was perfect for
Blake. And my favorite pastime at the time was making-out with Blake, so it was
a win-win situation.

I
had a feeling he wasn’t bringing us up here to make-out. We probably could do
with a good session, though. I thought about the little ladies at my café today
and their assumption about what a lunch date entailed. It was sad when
seventy-year-olds were friskier than we were. I was supposed to be in my prime,
according to
Ladies Home Journal
, but perhaps the fact I read that
magazine said something about me and why I had the sex life of a nun. Or
perhaps it was that I hadn’t felt comfortable with my body, or secure in my
marriage.

I
was glad to be out of the truck and in the fresh air. It smelled like pine and
faintly of campfire. Soon the canyon and our town would be inundated with
tourists, which meant Jessie Belle’s was about ready to hit its busy season.
Taking an afternoon off like this would get harder. Well, maybe not if I let my
manager do what I hired him to do.
Someday
, I thought.

Blake
grabbed a large quilt and our picnic basket from the back. I guess he had gone
home first. I followed him down to the bank of the river where he laid the
blanket and set out the food. I kicked off my shoes and sat down cross-legged
across from him. We both stared at each other awkwardly. It caused a twinge of
sadness. We shouldn’t be uncomfortable around each other.

I
looked down at the spread of food and popped a strawberry in my mouth. There
was an assortment of raw fruits and vegetables and what looked like some sort
of chicken wrap. I was afraid to test the wrap. Blake wasn’t much on seasoning.

We
ate in silence, taking turns staring at one another.

“Thanks
for lunch,” I said after we finished eating.

“It’s
not much.”

“It
was perfect.” Well, almost. The wrap was okay—at least he had added some
hummus. “So what did you want to talk about?”

He
looked so handsome as he sat there with the sun shining behind him and the
water pooling at the bank. “A few things.”

“You’re
going to need to be more specific.”

He
removed the picnic basket from between us and scooted closer. For a moment I
thought maybe he did come out here to make-out. That both excited me and made
me nervous, but it was a futile thought. He did take my hands, though. We
probably looked like we were making some type of vow to each other as we sat
face to face. He started playing with my ring. He never used to do that. I
looked down at the one-carat, brilliant-cut stone set in a simple band.
Underneath it sat a diamond-laid anniversary band. He had surprised me with it
on our tenth anniversary. Maybe Blake wasn’t a lot of things, but he had
excellent taste in jewelry—well, at least diamond rings. And at times he could
be quite thoughtful.