Finding Jessie: A Mystery Romance (21 page)

“Why did you say that if it wasn’t true?”

“I don’t know.”

“Not that I mind taking care of you, Jessie. It has been my pleasure to have you here. You are a lovely companion and you more than earn your keep, just by existing in my universe. But in this matter of not having resources that make you independent, I’m baffled.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“I’m sorry, Sam.”

“I don’t want to make you completely dependent on me. It’s not good for women not to have something of their own. It takes something away from who they are and how they perceive themselves…”

“I know that. I’ll be glad to start up my own used book business again. Thank you for the loan. The gift.” She smiled.

“You’re welcome.” He paused. “We have to have more honesty in our relationship. Because you lied to me about this, I’m very hurt.”

“I know you are.” She stopped smiling and hung her head.

“There has to be a reason. Why would you lie about something like that, Jessie?”

She shrugged and looked uncomfortable, then said, “I need to take a box of ornaments to the attic.”

“No. Stop running away from your problems, Jessie. Stop changing the subject when things need to be discussed. And stop lying to me.”

“About what?”

“About almost everything.”

“What are you saying?” she said defensively.

“I haven’t said anything about any of them, because they were all such small lies, but they are starting to add up. This is not the first lie I’ve caught you in, Jessie. To this point in time, I have let every other one slide.”

Her lower lip trembled. “I’m truly sorry.”

“Which lie are you apologizing for?” he asked in a heated manner.

“What were just talking about. The lie that I had an insurance check coming for the motorhome.”

“What else have you lied about?” Sam said, moving to the other side of the room so he could look her in the eye.

“Don’t do this, Sam. Don’t open this can of worms.”

“It’s open, Jessie, and the worms are coming out in droves. It’s too late. If you value what we’ve been building—and I truly do—you better start coughing up the truth.”

“I can’t, Sam!”

“Yes, you can.”

She shook her head violently. “Don’t make me relive it all.”

“I don’t even have a clue what you don’t want to relive.”

“Sam! Don’t!” She burst into tears.

“Why are you crying? This is a discussion, not a threat of any sort. I’m not trying to be mean to you, Jessie.”

“Well, you
are
being mean.”

“No, I’m not. I’m communicating and I just want you to tell me the truth.”

“About what? Some stupid insurance premium not paid for the motorhome?”

“Whose motorhome was that, Jessie? Did you steal it?”

“It was mine!”

“You bought it?”

“Yes. For cash from a private party.”

“Where did you get the money?”

“I worked for it. I waited tables in a fish restaurant for tips only. What do you think I did to feed myself?”

“I have no clue. Did you ever register it in your name?”

She was silent.

“That’s what I thought. For once in your life, take some personal responsibility for the important things.”

“I would if I could. Believe me.”

“Why can’t you?”

“It’s a long and terrible story. I don’t even want to talk about it. Not with you.”

“Oh, not with me? With whom then? I gotta know what you are dealing with. No more lies, Jessie. No
more
.”

“Like what lies are you even talking about?”

“Like that story you made up that you were married to a firefighter who was killed on September eleventh.”

She gasped. “You checked?!”

He blasted out an exhale. “So many things of what you have told me have not added up, so I did check that. I mean, it was very easy to find a list of the names of the firefighters who died on that fateful day. And there was a Smith, two of them, in fact, but the first name you gave me was wrong.”

“I’m sorry. I did make that up.”

“Why in the hell would you lie about something like that, and something that disrespects the memory of the firefighters and their families who lost them? Did you think you could get my sympathy or somehow get closer to me by telling me that crazy story that you had a firefighter husband who died on 9/11?”

“I don’t expect you to understand my reasons for making up…a life.”

“Why make one up? Why not just tell me what your real life was?”

She burst into sobs.

“Cut the waterworks, Jessie, and talk to me. I care about you. A lot. You know this. Why would you lie about so many things to me? Why would you invent a far-fetched past? Why won’t you just trust me with the truth?”

“Because I am afraid that if you knew the truth that you won’t love me anymore!” she cried out. Tears rolled down her face.

“That’s ridiculous and it demeans what we are to each other. I just need the truth from you. We discuss it. We find solutions to whatever lingers and we go on. So, tell me, Jessie. What are you hiding?”

“I can’t tell you, Sam!”

He put his hands on her shoulders. “Look at me, Jessie. I care that you are suffering this deeply. I care that you have a secret that is so tattooed on your very soul that it’s ripping you apart from the inside.”

“I know you care, but it’s big, Sam! It’s too big and I don’t want to tell you. I don’t want to even think about it. Please! Please don’t make me go into it.”

“How can I help you if I don’t know what it is you’re running from?”

“Either way, you can’t change my past.”

“But maybe I can help you change your future. Stop running. Stop moving. Stop being afraid.”

“You know I’m afraid?”

“Oh, hell yes.”

“I’m not afraid of you. I feel safe with you.”

“Then tell me your god-awful past so you can
leave
it in the past.”

“I don’t know how I can do that.”

“I’m a smart guy, Jessie. You know my deepest, darkest secret, and it’s disgusting and the stupidest decision I ever made in my life. I had sex with my stepmother when I was eighteen. I hate that filthy secret and somehow, our relationship has survived you knowing it. So, now you…”

“My secret is far worse.”

“Christ.”

“Don’t swear like that!” She sobbed into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry. Please, Jessie. Why don’t you trust me with your biggest, darkest secret, and we will slay all the little lies from here on out? Let me just get out my sword and save you from the dragons.”

“No!”

“Why not?”

“Because if you know it, it will
completely
destroy us.”

“I won’t let it!” Now Sam was crying, too. Huge wrenching sobs came from deep inside of him. “That would never happen. Not even if you were a hooker or a stripper or something like that.”

“That’s not it.”

“Well, good! But what is it? Tell me, Jessie! Come on!”

“All right. I’ll tell you. Don’t go off on me, because I will walk out.”

“It’s not nice to threaten your lover. I haven’t done anything wrong except ask you to be responsible for telling the truth.”

“I know.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “Jessie Willcox Smith isn’t my real name.”

“
Finally!
I already knew that. Deep down, I knew that was complete fiction from the moment of the silly cute meet over the book at the estate sale.”

“You
knew
?”

“Oh, please. Of course I knew.”

“How did you know?”

“I am a pretty good student of human nature. Every time you told me a lie, you broke eye contact with me and changed the subject. Or you would tell me some crazy story to top whatever it was that you wanted to divert attention from. That sent up red flags for me—all over the place. For months.”

“
What?!
Are you serious?” she asked.

“Hey! You’ve told some whoppers. I know you must have a good reason, but frankly, it’s making me not trust you to have it
continue
for so long. We’ll go along for days in a normal way and then suddenly, you distance yourself from me, emotionally. You dodge certain kinds of questions. And you fill in the gaps with preposterous tales.”

“Like what?”

“That you had a children’s bookstore in Manhattan and it got wrecked on September 11, 2001, and that you became a vagabond bookseller in that motorhome.” He paused. “Was that even remotely true?”

She swallowed. “I worked there. It wasn’t my store. But I did run the kids’ reading club after school on weekdays and I loved it. They let me work for cash and sleep in the storeroom in the back. And, after September 11th—yes really—they sold me their motorhome and what books we could salvage. It took me years to pay it off, but I did it. They renewed the license every year and insured it for me until I paid it off. And then the plates expired, I drove it around like that anyway because I had no way to renew the plates, not insure the vehicle.”

“Thank you. The truth. Why didn’t you tell me that long ago?”

“Because one lie became hundreds, and then it became thousands. I don’t blame you for not trusting me.” She sniffled and he handed her a box of tissues.

He led her to the couch. “Sit down. Don’t look away.”

They sat down together. He held her hand and looked into her eyes.

“Now, please tell me the truth. Let’s start with your real full name.”

“This is the absolute truth:
I don’t know my name
.”

Her eyes didn’t waver from his. Nor did she change the subject.

His heart began to break in a way that it never had before.

Chapter Fourteen

After that stunning confession, she clammed up and barely spoke to him.

For several awkward days, Jessie, or whoever she was, slept on the couch with an ever-changing pile of books at her feet. Occasionally, she cried and could not be consoled.

Sam tried to engage her in other things besides serious discussion by tempting her with possible jaunts to used book sales, walks along the wharf, and meals out, but she refused to budge from the couch. When he asked her why, she said haltingly: “I feel safe here, Sam.”

She left the couch only to use the bathroom, to switch out books from the shelves as she read them, and to feed the cats and change out their litter boxes. They began to drape themselves on her in concern—they took up residence on her lap, on her shoulders, and on her feet, not leaving her, except to use their litter boxes or to eat.