More Than Friends (19 page)

She smiled shyly. “Thank you for telling me that.”

He wanted to tell her something more, something that would make up for the past, but words eluded him. There was only now. He grinned broadly to break the mood. “No big deal. Hey!” He poked her in the ribs. “We’ve got work to do. Break’s over.”

He led the way toward the servants’ quarters.

“Most of what’s in the boxes is old junk. There’s some first edition books I’d like to keep,” he said, pulling open the last door in the east wing. “When my father remodeled the library, he wanted only leather-bound books, and sent anything old into storage.”

She set her cup, the apples and cookies on the floor and joined him in the room. Stacks of boxes lined the walls. An uncovered window allowed in light.

“There’s no furniture,” she said.

“A couple of the rooms still have beds and dressers, although there’s no electricity in most of these bedrooms.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Nope. Great-Grandfather didn’t want the expense of wiring back here. He always said that servants didn’t need to do anything in their rooms but sleep. There are a dozen or so oil lamps somewhere up here.”

“That’s positively feudal.”

He ran his finger over the top of a stack, then brushed the dust on the tip of her nose. “That’s us Jacksons. Generations of trodding on the little people.”

But she didn’t smile at his attempted humor. Instead, she looked back down the long corridor.

“Looking for an escape?” he asked quietly.

“No. Wondering what the square footage is in this place.”

He shook his head. “You don’t want to know.”

The boxes were labeled. Chase left most of them in place. The few he opened contained knickknacks and samplers.

“What are you looking for?”

“My mother stitched a few things when she was growing up. I’d like those.”

“What will you do with the rest of it?” She lifted a large needlepoint and stared down at the picture of a very ugly dog. “This is scary. A pet like that would give kids nightmares.”

He leaned over her shoulder. “That’s no pet. That’s Great-Grandfather Jackson.”

“Right. I take it this goes in the discard pile?”

“Sure thing. I’m having an antique dealer come through on Monday. He’s going to give me a price on everything.”

“You’re selling the furniture?” Her head was buried inside a deep box, but he was sure he’d heard something in her tone.

“I can’t keep it, Jenny. Even without the ghosts, this isn’t my idea of a home.”

“Makes sense,” she said brightly, sitting up and smiling. “And you won’t be here much longer anyway.”

“I don’t belong here.”

She glanced around the crowded room. “What will you do with the house?”

“Who knows. There aren’t many takers for turn-of-the-century mansions in steel-mill towns.”

“If you gave me that raise I mentioned earlier—”

Despite the friendly teasing, she was hiding something. But what? He wasn’t sure he’d like the answer if he asked; better not to know. They worked for another half hour, speaking only of trivial things. How Tammy loved her goldfish, how he’d better stay clear of Anne. She brought him up-to-date on a few friends from high school. She’d been on the reunion committee last year.

“Why did you stay in Harrisville?” he asked. “When I first came back you said you’d stayed because you had to. Why didn’t you get out?”

“Is this the day for confessions?”

He pulled down another box and opened it. “I guess it is. I showed you mine.”

“I don’t think—” She pushed her box away and nodded. “Okay. You’re right. I told you I lost the baby.”

“Uh-huh.”

“But it was really late in the pregnancy.” She sat cross-legged on the floor. Sunlight shone through the window, surrounding her in a golden glow. “They had to induce labor. I lost a lot of blood, got an infection and didn’t take it easy long enough. I ended up back in the hospital. It took me almost a year to recover.”

Her description told him the basic facts, but he knew her well enough to read between the lines. She’d almost lost her life. He’d been clear across the country hating her and she could have died. Cold fear sliced through him as he realized no one would have been able to find him to tell him she was gone.

“You were going into your senior year when I left. Did you graduate?”

“No.”

She picked up another sampler and showed it to him. He motioned to the discard pile.

“I lost the baby right after Christmas and didn’t get back to school.”

A bitter taste coated his tongue. “And never got to college?”

“I didn’t have the right. The insurance covered some of the medical expenses, but not enough. By the time I was back on my feet, my parents had gone through all their savings. Mary and Randi were entering high school, but I’d used up their college fund.”

“They wouldn’t have blamed you.”

“They didn’t. But I felt responsible.” She opened the box he’d pulled down, and reached inside. The top frame contained a linen sampler with the alphabet and a proverb from the Bible. “Is this what you’re looking for?”

“You found it. I remember this used to hang in her reading room.” He took the needlework and placed it in the hall. “I don’t think there’s anything else in here. Let’s try next door.”

He helped her to her feet and brushed the dust from her nose. “So to pay back the money, you took a job in the mill.”

It wasn’t a question. Her expression closed slightly, as if to ward off any judgment.

“You’ve always been a stubborn one,” he said, tracing her mouth with his index finger. “Beautiful when you’re angry and stubborn as a mule. Hell of a combination.”

“So you lucked out not having to marry me.”

There was a sharp pain in the vicinity of his chest. “I wouldn’t say that.” He let go of her and opened the door to the next room. “I’m surprised my father hired you.”

“I got my general education diploma and applied for office work. I’d been at Jackson Steel almost a year before he noticed.” She grinned. “You should have seen the look on his face. I thought he’d have a stroke and die right there in the accounting department.” She instantly sobered. “Sorry. That was in poor taste.”

“Go on.”

“He didn’t say a word, and when I got promoted to head bookkeeper and started going to those meetings he always held, it was like I was just another employee.”

He lowered a box to the floor. Jenny knelt down and pulled back the flaps. “What on earth?” She pulled out several toy soldiers and a handful of blocks. “Toys. I think they’re antiques.”

“They might be my grandfather’s.” He crouched beside her and took one of the soldiers. The hand-painted wooden figure was scarred and battle-weary, but the miniature sword at his side gleamed with flecks of gold paint. “This is great. I’m keeping these.”

“For your kids?” she teased.

“You bet.”

Their eyes met and the room became charged. Not with sensual energy, but with memories.

“I’m sorry about the baby,” he said. “That you lost it.”

“Funny how you assume I would have wanted that child. Most people told me I should have been grateful he was gone.”

“A boy?”

She nodded.

Chase pressed the toy soldier back in her palm and closed her fingers around the small figure. “You would have loved him however he’d come to be born.”

She bowed her head and let her hair fall forward, creating a shield between them. He kept his hand around hers. A single tear fell from her cheek onto his thumb.

“Why didn’t you come to me when you got better?” he asked quietly. “I think I secretly waited for you to come and explain, to tell me that it had all been a giant mistake.”

“Did you? I wanted to believe you’d forgiven me, but—” She half swallowed a sob. “I never heard from you. All those years. Six months after I got promoted, your father called me into his office. He—”

“Hush.” With his free hand, he stroked her hair. “It’s okay.”

She sniffed. “He handed me an envelope with your return address. Never said a word, just passed it across the desk, then told me to get back to work.”

“He always was a warm and friendly guy.”

“Sometimes.” At his
hmmph
of disagreement, she glanced up. Her eyes glistened with tears. “He didn’t have to let me know.”

“You never wrote.”

She smiled. The corner of her mouth quivered slightly and a tear slid down her cheek, but she held the smile firmly in place. “Three years had gone by. I knew that if you’d wanted to get in touch with me, you would have. I was obligated to my family. Randi only finished college eighteen months ago. Even if you’d wanted me to join you, I couldn’t have said yes. It was too late for us.”

He released her and moved to the window. These rooms weren’t cleaned, and dust caked the panes of glass. “You’re wrong,” he said, staring out at the landscaped garden below.

“Why didn’t
you
get in touch with
me?
” she asked.

“Pride.”

“No. You never forgave me for what you saw as my betrayal.”

“I didn’t know about the rape.”

“Would it have mattered?”

“Of course.” He turned to face her. “How can you ask that? I loved you.”

Do you still?

She didn’t voice the question, but somehow the words echoed in the room all the same.
Did
he love her?

Chase studied the slight figure standing with the toy soldier clutched in her hand. She was his past, the only decent memory in a past full of bad ones.

“You forgot the dreams,” he said. “Why didn’t you leave when Randi graduated and you were free to go?”

“I owe my family for what they did for me. It’s not a debt I can pay with money. I still remember what you and I had planned, but now it seems so selfish and unimportant.”

She’d sold out to Harrisville and the mill. He owed her, as she had owed her family. He still planned to fix Jenny, although what exactly was wrong seemed hard to define. He was responsible for the tragedy that had destroyed her life. When the debt was paid, he’d move on. They didn’t belong together anymore.

The work continued in silence. A stack of children’s books joined the growing pile in the hall. The rest of the things were left for the antique dealer to look over.

Chase glanced at the labels on the final stack of boxes. One more contained toys. “I’ll keep this one,” he said, moving it out of the room. “The rest of the stuff is just old clothes. Does anyone buy those?”

“Antique clothing?” she asked, stepping closer to the boxes. “Sure.” She moved around him to study a trunk in the corner, then frowned. “Who was Elizabeth Jackson?”

“My great-grandmother. Why?”

“This trunk has her name on it. Anything from the nineteenth century would be valuable to collectors or a museum.”

“Old clothes?”

“Absolutely. Can I open this trunk?”

“Be my guest.”

Jenny tried the latch. It caught for a second, then lifted. She pulled up the top of the leather trunk. The smell of cedar drifted out.

Blue tissue covered the clothing inside. Moving it aside, she sighed. “Oh, look.”

Beads and lace covered the bodice of the dress and the high neck. The thick, once-white silk had darkened to a rich ivory color. A wide ribbon wrapped around the waist. Gently holding the shoulder seams, she lifted up the gown.

Yards and yards of fabric formed a long, full skirt. A tulle overskirt, delicate and hemmed with lace, fell to the floor. The sleeves had been stitched with fine thread in the pattern of lilies of the valley.

“It’s a wedding gown,” she said, holding the garment in front of her. “It must be over a hundred years old. Look at the stitching and the lace. Everything is made by hand. It’s stunning.”

Chase bent down and looked into the trunk. “There are a couple more boxes.” He opened them. “Some weird shoes and a hat.”

She leaned down and took the hat. The silk and lace matched the gown. Swirled roses on the crown matched those on the back. Reverently, she placed the hat on her head. “How do I look?”

Chase studied her. A frown drew his dark brows together and she wondered if she looked silly. Just as she was about to pull off the hat, he grinned. “Incredible. I think there’s a mirror in the room across the hall. See for yourself.”

She picked up the dress, holding it carefully over her arms, then made her way to the larger servant’s room. An old-fashioned free-standing mirror reflected the meager contents of the room. She stepped in front of the bed and let the hem of the dress fall to the ground. The light from the window caught the shine of the beads; the aged lace and silk glowed like candlelight.

“Wow,” she breathed. “Imagine dressing like this every day. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

He moved behind her. Their image, hers full-length, his shoulders and head, reminded her of the scene in the library. But this time there wasn’t any anger in Chase’s eyes, only admiration and a little confusion left over from the emotion of their recent conversation.

The “if onlys” crashed upon her with all the subtlety of a bar of steel. Without even closing her eyes, she could see him in a morning coat, the deep gray wool a perfect foil for his good looks. The room faded into another time and place. She saw a white tent set on a green lawn, crowds of celebrating people, a minister asking “Do you take this woman?”

She blinked and the tent became four dusty walls; the lawn, wooden flooring; the crowds, a few pieces of furniture. And the man—he remained, but as distant and unobtainable as the fantasy itself.

“You look like a princess,” Chase said, leaning forward and straightening the hat. As he adjusted it, he snagged a length of tulle. “What’s this?”

“The veil.”

She pulled it down over her face. The woven net fabric softened her features, erased the signs of tears.

“What do you think?” she asked.

He placed his hands on her shoulders. In the aged mirror, their eyes met. Fire flickered in his, the brown depths darkening. Would he tell her that he too had imagined a happy ending?

“I’d like you to keep the dress.”

Doing her best to hide her disappointment, she spun to face him. “I couldn’t. Chase, this is an heirloom. You should save it for your daughter.” Another thought occurred to her and she had to swallow the lump in her throat before she could say, “Or your wife.”