The Giving Season (16 page)

He pulled away from her for a moment, keeping his face so close to hers that she was all he could see, all he wanted to see.

“Jessy—don’t be afraid of me.”

“I’m not—”

“I won’t hurt you like he did. You don’t have to be afraid— ever.”

He saw the tears well unexpectedly in her eyes and felt his heart breaking for her. In that moment, any doubts he might have had vanished. If what he felt for her wasn’t love, then that emotion simply did not exist.

“I don’t know—I mean—” Jessy’s voice caught, eyes closing for a moment as tears trickled over her cheeks. “I don’t know if I can do that—”

"Michael kissed her closed eyes, tasting her tears. He gathered her into his arms, holding her tightly. “It’s okay,” he murmured, kissing her hair, her brow, then closing his eyes as he rested his cheek against the crown of her head. “We’ve got time. I’ll give you all the time you need.”

This is not a promising start to a relationship,
Jessy thought as she sipped at her water and listened to the tick tock of the grandfather clock in the hall.

They had planned to take advantage of the empty house by having their first “date”—dinner by candlelight. With Michael forbidding Jessy to do anything but sit in the kitchen and keep him company, he had broiled steaks and baked potatoes, stealing quick kisses from her whenever he had the chance. Each kiss had made her feel more comfortable, and each touch had made her realize that maybe something good could grow between them. Because there
was
something between them. She didn’t know exactly what it was, or how it had developed, but a wonderful tension was building with each moment they spent together.

They had the house to themselves, with Lyssa away with a group of friends from her church and the kids still shopping with Ann. Until eight that night, they would be able to talk and kiss and behave like two adults on the cusp of a relationship. For the first time since that first night in the motel room, they were completely alone.

Unsupervised. Unchaperoned.

And miserable.

Jessy leaned back in her seat, her appetite gone. Michael picked at his dessert and kept his head down, looking up only to glance at the clock on the wall. Everything had been wonderful until the grandfather clock had struck eight. After that, every attempt at conversation had fallen flat. Jessy had finally lapsed into silence.

She knew what was preoccupying Michael’s thoughts.

Ann. She still had the kids and she hadn’t called to say she’d be late. Jessy knew by Michael’s growing distraction that he was imagining a million scenarios, all of them bad.

“What time were they supposed to be home?” she asked quietly.

Michael glanced at his watch again. “An hour ago.”

“Does she usually keep them later than—?”

“No.”

The terseness of his reply caught Jessy off-guard. “Did you have another argument with Ann or something?”

He said nothing, looking back to his plate again. 

Jessy knew a guilty conscience when she saw one. She also knew that she should just let it go, that she should change the subject and try to distract him from his worry.  But she couldn’t.  

“Are you not telling me something?”

Michael’s head snapped up. “What?”

 “You’re acting like there’s something else bothering you.”

“I’m not—” Michael caught himself and took a deep breath. “Okay. This meant nothing to me, but—this morning, when Ann came by to pick up the kids, she kissed me.”

For just an instant the world went totally silent for Jessy, her entire body going cold. She could not believe Michael had kept that bit of information to himself all day long. Even as she cried on his shoulder. Even as they’d kissed in the garage. He had been with Ann that morning.

Jessy couldn’t help but wonder what else Michael hadn’t told her. “She what?”

“We were talking and actually getting along for once and—”

“She kissed you,” Jessy said, voice flat. “Well—”

“It didn’t mean anything to me.”

Jessy looked him in the eye. “That’s pretty cavalier of you.”

“What do you want me to say?”

Jessy abruptly stood up, picking up her plate and silverware. “I don’t think I can have this argument with you again.”

“What argument?” Michael stood and followed her into the kitchen. “Would you please tell me what’s going on here, because I haven’t got a clue.”

Jessy kept her back to him as she busied herself at the sink, not trusting herself to look him in the eye. “This is exactly what we talked about this morning—you and Ann.”

“Jessy, nothing happened.”

“Except you kissed her.” Jessy finally faced him again. “You kissed her and didn’t even mention it to me today. I don’t consider that ‘nothing.’”

“I don’t believe this.” Michael leaned against the countertop, exasperated. “We talked. She kissed me. It meant nothing!”

Before Jessy could speak, the front door opened and the house exploded with life again. Ben and Marie thundered through the house, followed by Ann’s cheery voice. “Hello? Anybody home? Mike?”

Michael turned towards the doorway, his relief so obvious that Jessy didn’t have the heart to keep the argument going.

“I’ll get the dishes done,” Jessy said quietly, knowing that his attention was already wandering. “It would be better if I don’t have to talk to Ann.”

Michael looked to her again. “This conversation isn’t finished.”

Jessy said nothing, focusing on the soapy water and dirty dishes. Without another word, Michael walked out of the kitchen. To Ann and their children.

To his family.

It took only a few minutes to wash the dishes. Dimly aware of the sound of their conversation in the living room, Jessy tried to stall, to divert her attention by keeping busy, but finally ran out of things to do. She’d have to face them if she wanted to go upstairs. She had to square her shoulders, take a deep breath, and walk through the living room like it didn’t kill her to see Ann and Michael together.

This was going to be hard. But she refused to hide.

Before she could change her mind, Jessy tucked a few errant strands of hair behind her ears and walked out of the kitchen, through the dining room, pausing just outside the living room entryway as her courage stuttered and faded away.

“Now you just try to tell me that our little girl isn’t going to look like an angel in this!” Ann’s voice sounded warmer, more loving than usual, and Jessy peeked around the edge of the door to the living room, hesitant to intrude. 

Ann stood behind a beaming Libby, one arm around the girl’s shoulders as she held up a gorgeous white dress. They looked as if they’d never had a cross word, as if Ann had never said one hurtful thing to her daughter. Libby gazed at Ann adoringly, almost starstruck, giddy with the joy of being the focus of her beautiful mother’s attention.

For a moment Jessy didn’t know whom she envied more: Ann or Libby.

“We practiced singing all the way home,” Libby said, laughing. “Mom made me sing all the high notes because she said she’d crack the windows.”

“Now
that
I believe.” Michael grinned. “One time she tried singing ‘The Star Spangled Banner’ at a ballgame and ended up shattering every pair of sunglasses in the stands.”

“Not fair!” Ann said, laughing with mock indignation as she playfully swatted Michael’s arm. “I can’t help it if our children inherited my good looks and your singing ability.”

“Well, at least we got lucky with that, didn’t we?”

Ann’s smile mellowed, gaze softening as she studied Michael. “Yeah, we did.”

As Jessy hid in the doorway, she watched as Michael and Ann gazed at each other, something silent and momentous passing between them.  Something intimate. Something loving.

Something she had no right to interfere with.

“I’m going to go try on my dress again,” Libby said, also sensing the change of atmosphere in the room. “Mom—will you come up and help me fix my hair?”

Ann reluctantly dragged her gaze away from Michael’s. “Sure, baby—I’ll be up there in a few minutes. I need to talk to your dad first.”

Libby smiled and rose up on tiptoes to kiss Ann’s cheek. “Thanks, Mom. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Ann hugged Libby extra hard and then let her go. “Maybe we’ll even experiment with some makeup—how’s that sound?”

“Cool!” With another huge smile Libby turned to leave the room, passing by the doorway as she crossed to the stairs. Horrified by the thought of being caught eavesdropping, Jessy scrambled away from the door frame, racing back to the kitchen. She hurried to the sink and plunged her hands into the lukewarm dishwater, her heart hammering as she simply stood there for a few moments. She heard Libby’s footsteps on the stairs. Michael and Ann were finally left alone.

And the thought brought a sudden, unexpected wave of nausea. She had seen the tenderness that had passed between them. She had seen the way their marriage must have been once. The way it could be again.

Jessy gripped the edge of the sink. She could hear the faint whisper of their voices in the other room. The urge to go back to the door, to listen, nearly overwhelmed her. It would be wrong to eavesdrop. It would be wrong and hurtful and—

And impossible to resist.

Jessy dried her hands again and edged to the kitchen doorway, her heart beating almost painfully, a stomach-twisting sense of dread building with each moment that passed. She didn’t want to hear what they were saying to each other, didn’t want to know.

But she did. She had to know. For better or worse, no matter how awful the truth might be, she had to know.

She moved closer to the living room, ears pricked, listening. The whisper of their voices had stopped. They weren’t speaking at all.

Jessy knew what she would see before she even reached the door.

She didn’t even bother to hide. Michael and Ann were unaware of anything but each other, kissing with a passion and urgency that seemed forever out of Jessy’s reach. Ann luxuriated in his kiss, her arms entwined around his neck, her hands dug into his soft, thick hair. Their bodies seemed to fit together perfectly—Michael’s hard muscles and Ann’s perfect curves molding themselves against each other so intimately that they looked as though they had been made for each other.

Jessy felt oddly detached from the moment. She felt as if she were being anesthetized, aware of the blurry edges of the pain descending upon her, but not yet feeling the full impact. That would come later. Right now there was just the sight of Michael’s hands on Ann’s slender waist, his mouth against her lips, his body pressed tightly against hers—and Jessy knew that every time she closed her eyes she would relive this moment.

The dishcloth fell from her hands as she forced herself to turn away, forced herself to move and walk away from the doorway, away from Michael and Ann and their rediscovered intimacy. She had known it was too good to be true. She had known it deep down in her heart and yet she had ignored those doubts, so desperate to be with Michael that she was willing to make a pathetic fool of herself.

But no more. Michael had made his decision, whether he was aware of it or not. And so had she. 

An unnatural calmness settled over Jessy as she picked up the phone in the kitchen and called information. Then, without hesitation, she dialed the number of the only hotel in town. That would do until the next bus ran.

She had stayed long past her welcome.

Michael managed to push Ann back a step, breaking away from her kiss with a gasp of breath.
“Ann—stop it!”

Ann gazed up at him with a voluptuous smile on her lips, her eyes filled with invitation. She sidled up against him again, pressing her hips against his, rubbing against him as she flattened her hands against his shoulders. “Your heart’s racing,” she said, pressing her lips against the center of his chest. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

Michael gently but firmly pushed her away. “Ann, I’ve told you—”

“And I don’t believe you.” Undeterred, Ann slithered against him again, nuzzling his neck through the open collar of his shirt. “I think you want this just as badly as I do.”

“No—”

“That’d sound more convincing if you weren’t so obviously enjoying this.” Ann’s gaze dipped down between their bodies, then back to Michael’s eyes again. “I want you, Michael.”

Michael shook his head. “It’s not going to work, Ann.”

Anger flared in Ann’s eyes. “Why not?”

“I don’t love you anymore.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Ann’s lips slanted in a sardonic smile. “I know you, Michael. You’re not the kind of man who can just fall out of love—especially with me.”

“And why do you say that?” Michael asked, almost amused by her vanity. 

“Because I’m your wife,” Ann said quietly. “I’m the mother of your children.” 

Michael said nothing for a moment, studying the smug perfection of Ann’s smile. She was so assured, so certain of herself. She had never had one moment of doubt or self-consciousness in her life. Once upon a time, that had been one of the things he’d loved about her.

“What about Jessy?” he finally said, voice soft.

Ann laughed at that, dismissing him with a flap of her hand as she collapsed onto the couch and carelessly crossed her long legs. “Jessy?  You mean the Jessy who is staying here? With you?”

“Yes.” Michael kept his voice carefully monotone, his face neutral.

“Oh, honey—please.” Ann laughed again, shaking her head. “You do
not
want to be seen with her. Can you imagine what the people in town would think?”

“Maybe I don’t care what they’d think.”

Ann’s smile abruptly died. “Well, maybe I would.”

“Why? You don’t even live here anymore.”

“The people in town know we were married. And they know that our divorce is just temporary.”

Michael’s eyes widened. “Just
what?”

“We married too young, Mike. You knew that I wanted to do more than just live on a farm. I needed to experience life—and I couldn’t get that by staying married to you.” Ann shrugged, as if divorcing Michael, tearing his heart out by rejecting his love, hadn’t mattered to her. “I’d always planned to come back when I was settled—so here I am.”