Finding Jessie: A Mystery Romance (31 page)

“It was hard for me to get through it. But harder for Grandma—well, I guess soon I can call her Mom. But now there really is just the two of us. The Conyers women. The entire town is agog at the many scandals tied to our names, not the least of which is that my biological mother dressed up as a cat burglar and broke in to try to stab me to death to keep the way open for her sole inheritance.”

“That was an insane night.”

“It was. She was insane. I hope it doesn’t run in the family.”

“Oh, come on. You and your grandmother are both wonderful, normal women,” Sam said. “And scandal dies down when the media finds something fresh to open a vein in someone else’s family.” He paused. “This house, on the other hand, looks like a tornado hit it.”

“No, just the police department,” she said. “They sure went through here with a fine-tooth comb.”

“Yeah, they did. Linda bitched at me for making you live in such a mess.”

“Well?” she said, putting her hands on her hips.

“That’s a deep subject.”

“Was Linda ever your girlfriend?”

“For about two weeks. Until she saw my place. Just so you know, I never took her upstairs because she said the dreaded words: ‘I just want to be friends.’”

“Oh, she’s the one!” Jessie laughed and hugged Sam. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure. Anything.”

“That night, you could have grabbed your handgun from the dresser drawer. You keep it next to the flashlight. And you brought that flashlight down. But no gun.”

“So, you want to know why I didn’t grab the gun?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought of it, but an angel on my shoulder was afraid that, in the dark, I might shoot you by mistake. I figured if an angel’s going to whisper in my ear, I’m going to listen. He’s never failed me yet.”

She lifted her lips for a kiss. “You’re amazing.”

“Oh, please! I’m terribly messy. My cooking stinks. I hardly work as an attorney except when it suits me to write a will or a pre-nup or get a friend out of the hoosegow. I hardly live my passion of writing novels and buying and selling books, except when my bank balance dips too low. I weigh too much. I’m big and clumsy. In winter, I feel older than my fifty-seven years when all I do is eat and read. In summer, I run around like a kid and do foolish things like fly fishing and hedgehog rescues. I wear my father’s old fedoras, for goodness sakes, like I’m making a black and white movie about living in New England and being bookish.”

She laughed hard, holding her sides.

“You think I’m kidding. I’m very odd and deeply flawed.”

“I like you flawed. You’re well-read and interesting. You’re sexy and a great lover. Even with all my stupid baggage, I can fall into bed with you and feel comfortable in my own skin. You make me feel so beautiful and even better, not self-conscious. You’re funny and intellectual. Sweet and considerate. I didn’t know about the hedgehog rescues. That’s precious! But most of all, Sam, you know exactly how to love me the way I need and want to be loved. And you protect me…I trust you.”

“Aw, you’re my sweet Jessie and I
do
love you so much. I will always protect you.”

A pile of books spilled over with a mighty crash. “Ha! There’s my cue. My dearest, we should clean up the spilled books, and get organized again.”

“Again?” Jessie said. “Were we ever organized?”

He laughed. “No, we were never organized. But that’s not my priority. I want to get to a place in our relationship where we trust each other implicitly with our imperfections. Please let this moment be the beginning of that place, Jessie.”

“I want that, too, but I don’t want to have sex to validate our closure of all the intense conflict, danger, strife and apologies.”

He sighed in relief. “Nor do I. I think I just want to be very close to you and talk gently to each other. For tonight.”

“That sounds good to me, too.”

“Do you want to make love later? Or maybe tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow, please,” Jessie said. “I just need a little breather from such heavy events.”

“Agreed.”

The angel on Sam’s shoulder said,
The book from the estate sale. She never read it.

He said, “Let’s light a fire and we can cuddle and read something.”

“Read? Out loud, you mean?”

“Yeah, a real printed book. How novel, I know.”

She laughed at his pun.

“I have something special in mind for the next hour or so, however long it takes to read it aloud.”

“All right, I’m game.” She watched him lay a fire and get it going while she heated some spiced apple cider and put out a mug of it for each of them on the coffee table in front of the sofa.

Sam stepped over the mess of books and found what he was looking for in his roll-top desk.

He opened the mended book, the one that they had tussled over at the estate sale, the one that had been the ruse by which Jessie had introduced herself and had begun to entwine her life with his.

“Uh-oh, I recognize that kids’ book,” she said and laughed nervously.

“Sometimes, it is a gift to read a kids’ book, however age inappropriate it might be.”

She laughed. “I’m embarrassed about that book because of the ruse I created for our cute meet.”

 “It’s okay, Jessie. I’m not mad about the book and what it represents to us. I’m just going to think of it as a beginning of us, no matter what the intent was. I’m not going to call it stalking. Because, you know, when you fall in love with someone and you pursue love, and the other person loves you back, I think that it was meant to be. Fated. Destiny, if you will.”

She nodded. “You’re very gracious.”

“And you are very cherished. No matter how you came to be in my life, here we are, two people who love each other. And this is the book that started it.”

“I never even dared to hope that my contrived grab for that book would lead to…the solving of the mystery of my identity and the absolute love of my life.”

“And mine. I just think it’s time to actually enjoy reading it, before we pack it up and ship it off to Cindy Foster in Germany.”

“You really want to give it up after we read it?”

“Sure. Books are meant to be shared and to be loved over and over by many people. Who knows what special meaning the book will bring to little Cindy?”

“That’s true.” She paused and took a sip of hot cider. “I’m so glad her father ended his military career, so he could be a stay-at-home dad, instead of shipping her off to her grandmother for months at a time.”

“Me, too.”

“It kind of surprised me that her mother didn’t do that.”

“It’s a different world now, Jessie. Not so many role stereotypes.”

“I know. Sometimes, it’s a good thing to make unconventional fresh starts.”

“Yes, it is. We are living proof.”

“I’m glad her mom got the Germany orders.”

“Me, too,” he said. “Now they are in a place where the family could be together.”

“Hopefully, it will be for a long time,” she said. “I love having a family. Even if it is just my grandmother. To have one family member who loves you for yourself is a precious gift.”

He nodded. “You’re my only family.”

She smiled. “We’re not blood family, but I know what you mean and you are mine, too.”

The cats settled themselves on the hearth, in front of the fire.

Sam and Jessie got settled on the comfy sofa and sipped their hot apple cider.

“Mmmm. This hits the spot.” Jessie set down her steaming mug and snuggled closer to Sam as a light rain began to tap-tap-tap against the living room windowpanes.

Sam read aloud:
“
The Princess and the Goblin
by George MacDonald, illustrated by Jessie Willcox Smith,” and winked at her. She blushed with embarrassment about her previous fake surname, but now it was all in the open—they’d fought and made up, and apparently, he could joke about it. A good thing.

He read a couple of lines starting with Chapter 1. Just a few sentences in, he read this passage:

“
Very well, then every little girl is a princess, and there would be no need to say anything about it, except that she is always in danger of forgetting her rank, and behaving as if she had grown out of the mud. I have seen little princesses behave like the children of thieves and lying beggars, and that is why they need to be told they are princesses. And that is why, when I tell a story of this kind, I like to tell it about a princess. Then I can say better what I mean, because I can then give her every beautiful thing I want her to have.”

Jessie said, “Oh, no. Stop!”

“It’s just a children’s story, Jessie.”

“Then why does it feel so ironic, like it’s written about me?”

“Because you’re still feeling guilty about lying to me about your name and because it’s one of those storybooks with morals and life lessons.”

She nodded.

“You’re forgiven for lying to me. You know that, Jess. So, do you really want me to stop reading it?”

“No. Continue. Just please show me the Jessie Willcox Smith color plates when you get to them. Like I’m a little girl.” She grinned sheepishly.

He smiled and read again for a while. After he read the line
,
“Her face was fair and pretty, with eyes like two bits of night-sky, each with a star dissolved in the blue,” he leaned over and kissed her tenderly on the eyelids.

And when he pulled back after a moment, he saw that there were tears shimmering in them and spiking her eyelashes with moisture.

“Yep, there are stars in them all right,” he said.

He lifted one arm and she crawled up under it, so that his one arm curved around her shoulder while the other held the book.

“I’ll turn the pages so you don’t have to stop holding me to do it,” she said.

“So that’s the way you are,” he said lightly.

“What can I say? I’m yours and I need to feel every comfort moment of that sense of belonging.”

Sam chuckled. “It’s good that you can tell me what you need from me. I like that.”

“So do I. You should tell me what you need, too.”

“I have almost everything I want with you.”

“Almost?” Her russet eyebrows raised in a question.

“Yes.
Almost.
I want to tell you something important, Jessie.”

“In the middle of the story?”

“Yeah. Right now.” He took a deep breath. “You’ve struggled for your entire life with your identity crisis. Not knowing who you were or where you belonged, or who your parents were—it harmed you so much, to grow up the way you did, the property of abusive kidnappers for over a decade.”

“Yes.”

He kissed her on the forehead. “You are healing now.”

“It’s good to finally know the truth, as hard as it is to digest the complexities of it. It will take a while, but I feel more than okay these days. I feel happy with life and that is saying a lot for me. I know I will never run away again. I’m so happy here with you that whatever comes up, we’ll deal with it together.”