Jessie Belle: The Women of Merryton - Book One (3 page)

Her
name is Madeline
. I had always loved the name. It had even
been on my short list for girls names. I thought Madeline Summers would have
been such a pretty name for a little girl.

I
looked up at the ceiling, too. “I don’t know if I can.”

Blake
turned and leaned over me. Even in the dark I could see his brooding eyes. They
looked like storm clouds gathering. He lightly brushed his hand across my
cheek. “I know I love you, and now more than ever I need you. More importantly,
I want you and only you. I can’t believe you would even imply that I knew about
Madeline before today. Do you really not know me after all these years?” He
leaned down and kissed my forehead and lingered for just a moment. “By the way,
the only reason I haven’t wanted to adopt was because it’s too risky and I
wanted to spare you any pain that I could. I’m done losing babies.” He kissed
me once on the cheek and then made his way off of my old, queen-size bed. He
stood at the foot and watched me for a second.

I
didn’t know what to say to him.

“I’ll
be at home waiting for you.” And with that sentiment he turned and walked
toward the white, six-paneled door that still had my favorite boy band poster
from high school hanging on it.

“Blake,”
I called quietly.

He
turned back toward me.

“I’m
sorry for jumping to conclusions.”

“Goodnight,
Jessica.”

Sleep
was very hard to come by after that. By six in the morning I gave up. I figured
I would quietly sneak out of my parents’ home. It had been a long time since I
had snuck out of my parents’ house, but just like the last time I had attempted
it, I was caught.

“Young
lady,” my mom said.

I
grabbed my heart. “Sheesh, Mom.” I flipped on the kitchen light. “What are you
doing sitting at the table in the dark?”

She
patted the seat nearest her, inviting me to sit down next to her.

I
immediately complied.

My
mother had her long hair braided to the side. She looked like she belonged in a
Centrum commercial; she was beautiful.

She
took my hands in hers. “Jessie Belle, I love you, honey, but don’t come running
home again, no matter what your father says. You stay home and work it out.”

This
was another reason I had wanted to sneak out of the house. I knew I had created
some discord between my parents and I felt bad about that. My dad was ready to
hire a divorce lawyer on my behalf and had been spouting off how I should have
married Landon Riley, my old high school boyfriend, who was now the mayor and
owner of one of the two insurance agencies in town. Blake and I used the other
agent. My dad was dead wrong. Landon had a wandering eye and it frequently
wandered over me. Let’s just say neither my husband nor I appreciated it. But
Landon was a schmoozer and he had my dad fooled.

“Some
things can’t be worked out.”

“Oh,
honey, there’s nothing in your marriage that can’t be worked out. There’s no
doubt it’s going to hurt like the dickens and you’ll want to throw in the towel
a time or two, but joy always comes after sorrow. And if ever two people
deserved joy, it’s you two.”

“I
don’t even know if I love him anymore.”

She
squeezed my hands. “You do. Trust me. You’re just going to have to discover it
again. I’m here if you need to talk or if you need a shoulder to cry on, but
Blake is the one you really need to talk to, and I have a feeling he wouldn’t
mind sharing his shoulder with you, too.”

“Mom,
what if this girl really is his?”

“Then
I guess you’re going to learn how to be a fantastic stepmother.” Without so
much as another word she got up and left me sitting there speechless.

I
sat stunned for a moment after she left. Leave it to my mother to be rational.
I’m sure one day I would appreciate it, but not today. I crept out the back
door and headed home via the long way. First I stopped at the cemetery in the
early light of day.

I
wound my way up the hill that overlooked Merryton to the prettiest little
cemetery. It was more expensive than the one in town, but I wanted our Carter
to be buried there. Most people that have premature babies like ours cremate
their babies, but I couldn’t bear the thought, so Blake handcrafted a small
coffin according to the burial ordinances our town had set in place. It was a
beautiful pine box engraved with all of our names. We didn’t hold a formal
funeral service - it was just us, my parents, and a few close friends. I barely
remembered the day. I felt like I was in a haze, like my mind was protecting
itself against the harshness of my reality.

Blake
and I had nothing to offer each other that day and days after the funeral. We
were each so consumed with grief. Blake turned to his work like always, and I
turned to my best friends, Abby and Cheyenne and to my café.

I
pulled around the little road that circled the cemetery and stopped near
Carter’s grave. I grabbed my sweater and wrapped it around me. Mornings were
still quite cool in April. I walked slowly toward the small gravestone,
thinking as I went. I looked around at all the newly budded trees and flowers.
I was happy to see them. It made being there less depressing. I knelt down in
front of his grave on the grass, still wet from the dew of the night. I could
feel water seep through my jeans and soak my skin, but I didn’t care.

I
didn’t pray anymore when I came. I figured why bother, they had all gone
unanswered. I knelt there and thought as I looked at the inscribed name: Carter
Nicholas Summers. Nicholas was Blake’s middle name. There was no birth date or
death date. I wasn’t sure what to put since he had been stillborn. Besides his
name, all it said was “Son of Blake and Jessica Summers.”

Seeing
our names together reminded me how far we had drifted apart. I wasn’t sure what
to do about it.  And considering Blake’s possible impending fatherhood, I was
even more confused.  As I sat thinking, it occurred to me that perhaps I should
start with me first. Maybe if I could love myself again, I could love Blake,
too. The lingering question was if I could love him
and
his child, if
she ended up being his.

I
hadn’t even stopped to think of all the nuisances of him having a child. In the
back of my mind I hoped it wasn’t true. I suppose there would be a paternity
test. I mean, Sabrina could have made all this up. And why had she waited all
these years to tell him if she thought that was the case? But I knew I had to
prepare for the possibility and what that could possibly mean for us.

Regardless,
I needed to work on myself, with or without Blake. I figured it was the first
step. I looked down again at the cold, carved headstone and I tried to remember
things about me, things I liked to do and liked about myself. I decided eating
was going back on the list first. I ate, but only barely, and I loved food. It
was my job to love food. It was time for me to get back into the kitchen and
begin creating again. Our menu needed more than a new design; it needed some
new food options.

I
looked down at my tired, worn-out body and decided I should probably get back
to the gym. The exercise would probably be good for my state of mind, too.
Endorphins definitely couldn’t hurt. I knew I had more things to be added to
the list, but at least I had a starting place.

I
lightly ran my fingers across his headstone before I stood up. The sun was now
over the horizon and I could barely feel its warmth. I took a deep breath and
tried to fish for some courage to go home and face my husband. The scary part
was I didn’t know how this would all end or how I even wanted it to end. I only
wanted it to be better.

I
pulled into our large, detached, three-car garage and Blake’s truck wasn’t
there. I wasn’t surprised he was gone early even though it was Saturday, but I
was relieved. I was sure he was working on some job or other. We never really
talked about our professions anymore. He ran his company and I ran mine. We
even kept separate bank accounts. That was his choosing, not mine. We had
worked it out so that he paid half the bills and I paid the other half. He had
taken the most expensive half. It was an odd arrangement to be sure, and one I
wasn’t comfortable with at first. I wasn’t sure I was comfortable with it now,
I just didn’t think about it much anymore.

I
got out of the Tahoe that I paid for all on my own and walked toward our house.
Our beautiful, white house with black shutters that Blake had helped construct.
It was the one thing we had done together. We spent months with an architect
going over designs until we got it just the way we wanted it. The two-story
home sat on two beautiful acres lined with aspen and pine trees. In addition
there was a shop where Blake could be found most of the time he was home. He
got his shop and I got my gourmet kitchen with all the bells and whistles. The
house was the only thing we owned together.

Together
,
I thought as I walked in the side door that led to the mud room. We hadn’t done
much together as of late. I guess if I really thought about it, as a couple we
really hadn’t done much together our whole marriage. It was a depressing
thought, so I left it alone for the time being.

I
headed straight for the kitchen and searched for food. I hadn’t been great
about keeping a stocked pantry. I owned a café, so if I wanted food I had more
than enough access to it. At home there wasn’t much need to cook—Blake made his
own breakfast and he always packed a lunch and was rarely home for dinner.
Besides, we differed on food preferences. Blake had been on a major health kick
for quite a while, and me … not so much. I tried to eat healthy, but I was a
pastry chef by trade.

I
found some Froot Loops next to a box of whole grain something or other. It
didn’t look appetizing, whatever it was. I went with the Froot Loops, the
breakfast of champions. As I ate I decided I should probably go grocery
shopping if I was going to put real eating back on my list of things to change.
First up though, was a long, hot shower and maybe a nap. The lack of sleep from
the night before was catching up to me.

I
showered and wrapped myself up in my comfy, white robe and curled up on my bed,
only to be disturbed by the house phone going off.
We should get rid of that
thing,
I decided. I wasn’t sure why we still had it; we rarely used it.
Then I remembered why. We thought when we had children it would be a good idea
to have a landline, just in case.

On
that depressing note, “Hello.”

“Spill
your guts,” were the first words out of Cheyenne’s mouth.

“Good
morning to you, too.”

“Yeah,
yeah, good morning. So tell me what’s up with you and Blake?”

I
lay back on my bed and sighed. Surely she didn’t know about Madeline. This town
had an amazing grapevine, but surely not that good. I knew Blake would never
talk to anyone and my parents wouldn’t either. I feigned innocence. “What do
you mean?”

“Don’t
play dumb with me. It’s all over town how Blake came into your office with
flowers, but left storming out in a fury and you followed, crying.”

I
went out the back door. Who saw me?
This town really was too
much.

“I’ve
been trying to call you all night and this morning.”

“Sorry,
I turned off my cell phone.”

“But
you still haven’t told me what’s going on.”

“Cheyenne,”
I sighed, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“That’s
getting old, my friend.”

“I
know.”

“Are
you all right?”

“Honestly,
no.”

“Are
you and Blake on the rocks?”

I
thought about that and what I should say. “Maybe.”

“Let’s
have a girl’s night. I’ll call Abby.”

“Cheyenne,
I’m tired—”

“At
least think about it,” she cut me off.

“Okay.”

“You
know we love you, right?”

“I
know.”

And
I did know. Abby and Cheyenne were the best friends a girl could ask for. I got
in more trouble with them than anyone. My mom called us ‘trouble buddies’
growing up. We hadn’t gotten in much trouble lately. Abby was settled and
married to Dr. Shane Parker with three kids: Connor, twelve; Avery, ten; and my
middle namesake, Isabelle, was four. I loved those kiddos. Cheyenne was
anything but settled. She had a new man for every season. She loved playing the
field and made no apologies about it.

I
slept for a couple of hours before I got ready for the day. While I was getting
ready I noticed half the items on the bathroom counter were missing. At first I
thought maybe Blake had wiped off the countertop and forgotten to replace his
toiletries, but I searched below his sink and it was hollow. Then I looked up
and noticed his bathrobe wasn’t hanging near the shower, either. I walked over
to his walk-in closet that was situated right outside our bathroom and found
most of his clothes were missing.

I
sat on my bed, stunned. I thought he said he wanted to work it out and that he
needed me. I wasn’t ready to call it quits yet. I came home so we could at
least try. I pulled out my phone and punched in his number.

He
picked up on the first ring. “Jessica.”

I
skipped the pleasantries. “You moved out and you weren’t even going to tell
me?”

“Will
you calm down? I didn’t move out.”

“Then
where are all of your things?”

“I
moved into the guest bedroom.”

“Why?”

He
paused and took a deep breath. “I figured we each needed some space and to
start over.”

“All
we’ve given each other is space.”

“Yeah,
we’re good at that, aren’t we?”

“So,
what are you saying?”

“Jessica,
all I know is that if you don’t trust me or love me anymore, it means I’ve
messed up somewhere along the way. I don’t know how to fix that other than
starting over.”

“What
does that mean?”

“I
don’t know. I’m trying to figure it out.”

I
guess we were both trying to figure out our lives
.
“I guess I’ll see you later.”

“You
can count on that.”