The housekeeper had paid a visit during Jessica’s absence, and everything was put away in its place. The apartment was as neat as a monastic cell. Mrs. Jenkins was a compulsive tidier and was forever putting items in drawers and closets that Jack preferred left out where he could see them. He complained that she “hid” things on him, but when Jessica suggested that she might be able to take over the housework, he had reacted negatively, saying shortly that Mrs. Jenkins kept the place the way he liked it. This was patently untrue, and at the same time carried the implication that Jessica was incapable of doing so. She realized again that he didn’t want her taking care of him, doing the little things that strengthened the bond between two people. As always, he wanted to travel alone.
Jessica went to the bedroom and hung the plastic cleaner’s bag she was carrying on the door. It contained Jack’s tuxedo, which she had picked up before calling for Maddy, and she realized that Mrs. Jenkins had put away the studs the dress shirt required. Jack always left his few items of jewelry in a wooden tray on the dresser. Despite repeated requests to the contrary, the housekeeper invariably transferred them to a small carved box he kept in the top drawer. In order to avoid another diatribe on the shortcomings of Mrs. Jenkins, Jessica went to the drawer to retrieve the studs. She took out the box, which she had never examined, and flipped open the top, rooting around in the mess of cuff links and tie clasps for the elusive polished buttons.
She found all of them and was about to close the box when she saw a thin drawer at the bottom, below the base of the main container. She had never noticed it, and before she thought about it she pulled it open, wondering what he kept in there.
When she saw the contents she froze, sinking to the reclining chair in the corner of the bedroom with the box in her hands. In the drawer was a pile of photographs, six of them, held together with an elastic band. They were all of her.
The top one she remembered, a candid shot taken when she was laughing at Maddy’s antics at a Halloween party. Under it were four others, showing various poses, including the proof for her junior yearbook photo. And at the back of the pack she found a five-by-seven of the two of them, snapped by Jack’s sister Lalage when they spent a stolen evening at his house. It was captioned, in Jack’s hand, ‘Jesse and Me, Last Date.’
It was true. That was the final time they had been together, shortly before her fatal visit to Dr. Carstairs. Jessica sat staring at the photos, thinking that he had put them together after she was gone, to remember her. He had kept them all these years in this box with his most personal things, a testament to his depth of feeling for the girl who had left him.
Jessica closed her eyes, the pictures falling to the floor as she put her hands to her face. If he had felt so strongly about her once, why couldn’t he love her now, when they had a second chance? Why was he wasting it on a vengeance that was surely destroying them both? There was no understanding his baffling complexity, his stubborn adherence to a stance that was creating such unhappiness. Even today, when he might have comforted her at the hospital, let her see that he was glad she was all right, he had gone back to work and left her alone. She sat in a trance for several minutes, then gathered up the photos and put them away, making sure to replace the box where she had found it. She hadn’t meant to pry, but it wouldn’t do to reveal that she had discovered his secret.
By the time Jack came home from work that evening, Jessica had showered and was brushing her hair. He paused in the doorway of the bedroom, watching her work through the silken mass methodically, and then came to stand behind her, taking the brush from her hand without a word. Jessica bent her head as he brushed her hair till it crackled, using long, powerful strokes that made her scalp tingle and turned the individual strands into threads of the finest gossamer. When she looked up, he had gathered them into his fist, lifting the weight off her neck. Her eyes met his in the vanity mirror, and a current passed between them. Jessica waited for his next move, but he chose to turn away, letting her hair fall back into place and tossing the brush onto her enameled tray. Jessica let her breath out slowly as he went to change, thinking that he delighted in refusing her slightest invitation. The message was brutally clear: it always had to be his idea.
She dressed carefully in a deep emerald evening dress, fitted and strapless, with a long side slit designed to reveal one graceful leg. She had bought it the week before, at the urging of both Jean and the saleswoman, when Jessica herself had thought it too dramatic, too revealing. But one look at Jack’s face when she emerged from the bedroom wearing it convinced her that her advisers had been correct.
“You look beautiful,” he said flatly, and Jessica wondered wearily why he never sounded happy when he gave her a compliment. It was almost as if he resented the ascendancy her beauty gave her over his will and emotions, and so viewed her physical allure with guarded respect, with meticulous caution.
He didn’t look bad himself. The black tuxedo flattered his lean, muscular frame and the pleated, stark white shirt set off his dark good looks to perfection, making his hair and eyes lustrous, vivid. They were, indeed, an attractive couple. Jessica wondered how many people viewing the handsome newlyweds that evening could guess at the turmoil concealed by their sartorial splendor.
Jack went to the hall closet and got her long evening cloak of soft, brushed wool, hooded and lined with fur. He slipped it over her shoulders and the folds swirled around her ankles. He put his topcoat over his arm and they went out to the elevator and descended to his car.
The Chamber of Commerce had rented a local club for the event. It was ablaze with lights and decorations as Jack and Jessica arrived. The carpeted entry hall had a twenty-foot Christmas tree decorated in blue and silver, with a myriad of tiny winking stars set among its branches. The crowd milled around in its shadow, greeting friends, checking coats and lining up to enter the ballroom. Jessica hoped it was her imagination that a hush seemed to fall over the gathering as she and Jack passed through it. She was relieved to see that Maddy and her husband were already seated.
Soon after they joined their table, the chairman of the event rose from the dais to speak. As she listened to him describe the wonderful things in store for the museum, Jessica looked around for Daphne, who was sure to be present. The chairman outlined the planned allocation of funds raised from this event, the various committees formed and their duties, while Jessica scanned the crowd, searching for Daphne’s dark, curly head. She finally gave up and was settling back in her seat when she looked right into Daphne’s eyes. The other woman was watching her, not ten feet away. Jessica, startled, gave her a weak smile. Daphne smiled back, nodding, and on the pretext of listening to the speech Jessica shifted in her chair to face the front of the room, breathing a silent sigh of resignation. Daphne was at the next table. Jessica looked at Jack, who was paying attention to the talk and had missed the wordless exchange. She looked down at her hands and resolved to stop acting like a skittish ten-year-old. When the chairman sat down she applauded politely as if she actually knew what he had said.
The dinner was the usual marginally edible fare served at such events. At the break before dessert the band began to play old standards, and a large portion of the crowd got up to dance. Daphne seized the first opportunity for conversation and appeared at Jessica’s side, her expression mischievous.
“Aren’t you the sly fox?” she said, glancing sidelong at Jack. “Showing up out of the blue and stealing Jack here away from us.”
Us? Jessica thought. Who is us?
“I’m sorry about what happened when I called,” Daphne went on to say. “I didn’t realize who I was talking to. I didn’t know about your wedding.”
“That’s all right,” Jessica said faintly, wishing Daphne weren’t quite so magnanimous about the whole thing. Her deliberate cheerfulness was giving Jessica a headache.
“You should have told me who you were,” Daphne bubbled. “You could have knocked me over with a feather when I heard.”
I’ll bet, Jessica thought.
“We have a lot to catch up on,” Daphne confided, pulling her empty chair next to Jessica’s and sliding into it. “What have you been doing with yourself since you left Bright River?”
Jack was watching the two of them with a set, expressionless face. As Jessica tried to give Daphne a heavily edited version of her activities over the past decade, Jack turned to Maddy’s husband and engaged him in conversation. Maddy observed the scene with her usual wry detachment, wondering why these people weren’t attacking each other.
Daphne burbled on about this and that, as Jessica prayed for deliverance. She knew Jack wouldn’t save her; he wouldn’t get between them for a crock of gold. Jessica tried to listen, smiling until she felt her face would crack. The worst part about it was that she actually liked Daphne, always had. But the sight of her, beautifully dressed in a black crepe décolleté gown, conjured up images of what she had been doing in bed with Jack not too long ago, and was probably still doing with him now. Jack was gone a lot and he never gave an explanation for his absences.
A man loomed behind Daphne’s chair, and it took Jessica a moment to recognize him. When she did, she greeted him as if he were about to lead her out of the desert and into the promised land.
“Bill!” she exclaimed, standing and seizing his hand. “Bill Campbell, it’s wonderful to see you. How have you been?”
“Great, Jessica,” Bill said. “How about yourself? I understand you just married our football star over here.”
Jack stood to shake hands with Bill, who had been in Jessica’s class at school. She’d always liked him, a sunny, friendly boy whose father was a local postman.
“Aren’t you going to ask me to dance?” Jessica said to him, desperate to get away from the table. Bill, who looked a little surprised by the suggestion, nevertheless took her arm with commendable gallantry and led her onto the floor.
They hadn’t been dancing a minute when Bill said to her, “Jessica, what’s the matter with you?”
“Why do you ask?” Jessica replied, as if he had no basis for the question.
“You were never the type to ask a man to dance. You’ve either changed a whole lot or something’s up. Which is it?”
“Something’s up,” Jessica admitted, surrendering. “I just wanted to get away from Daphne. She was asking me so many questions.”
“Daphne’s my date,” Bill replied, grinning.
Jessica closed her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said helplessly.
“It’s all right,” Bill said, laughing. “I know what she’s like. I also know she was seeing Jack right up until the time he married you. Uncomfortable situation, huh?”
“You might say that.”
“Is she a sore loser?”
“No, no at all. She was trying to be cordial, I think, but oh, I guess it’s me. Don’t pay any attention. Daphne’s nice and I don’t mean to imply otherwise.”
“Don’t worry about saying anything wrong to me. I take her to these things about three times a year because we’re both involved in local business. That’s all it is.”
Jessica had a brief flash of sympathy for Daphne. She seemed to be rather commonly regarded as a good time. “I didn’t know you worked in town,” Jessica said brightly, trying to change the subject.
“Yes, when my parents died I sold the house and opened an appliance outlet. Maybe you’ve seen it? Red C Discounters.”
“That’s your place?” Jessica said. “I’ve driven past it, but I didn’t realize you owned it.”
“Yeah, I’ve been there about four years.” Bill went on to tell her about his business, and when Jessica glanced back at the table she saw that both Jack and Daphne were missing. Sure enough, they were dancing together on the opposite side of the room. And it seemed to Jessica that Jack was holding the other woman very close. Suddenly she didn’t feel like dancing anymore.
“I’d like to sit down, Bill, if you don’t mind,” she said.
“Sure,” replied Bill, confused but compliant. She reached her chair in time to see Jack laughing with Daphne.
He’d be better off with her, Jessica thought sadly. He would relax, take it easy. Not sweat the small stuff the way he does with me. This perception did nothing to enhance her evening.
“See you later,” Bill said, undoubtedly relieved to get away from her. He walked back to his table as Maddy leaned across the floral centerpiece and whispered, “Why did you bolt like that? You left your husband free for the black dahlia to lasso him into a dance.”
“I’m sure she didn’t have to try very hard,” Jessica murmured.
Maddy was making a face at her when Jack returned Daphne to Bill, and then rejoined his table. Maddy’s husband immediately resumed their conversation, a rehash of some football game Jack had won with a last minute touchdown. Several other men came over to join the discussion, and as Jessica listened to Jack’s amusing recounting of the crucial play, she smiled along with the others. She had almost forgotten how truly charming he could be. He was so wired around her that his natural personality was submerged and lost in the general tension. In a situation like this he could be open, outgoing, funny. Surely this was part of the reason she had fallen in love with him in the first place, but she no longer remembered the process. She had long accepted her love for him as a condition of existence, like rain or the change of seasons. Snow fell, the sun rose and she loved Jack. But now she could see that he was happier away from her. Wasn’t she selfish to cling to something that distorted, almost negated, his true nature?