Contract to Wed (13 page)

Jolene stretched out on her chaise and opened Julia’s
letter.

Dear Jolene,

How wonderful it was to receive a letter from you! I
never anticipated getting a response. I must tell you I particularly relished
the paragraph you wrote about telling Mother that you were leaving to marry
Maximillian.

I did have a reckoning with my past. It began the day I
went back to Boston to get Jillian. It did not end until much later. I have
found it difficult, even when I’m well aware of my behavior, to change it. As I
said previously, I was still resentful and angry even after coming home with
Jake. I had to make a conscious effort to stop myself from reliving the past
and rehashing mistakes.

It sounds as though you may be fortunate enough to have a
husband who will help you like mine did me. If he is kind, as you say he is,
why dwell on the unhappiness of your first marriage? If he is concerned with
your well-being and happiness, why dwell on Mother’s bitterness?

I am truly happy that I have a new niece - Melinda. All
of us would like to hear more about her. She will be a trial in a few years,
I’m sure, as she becomes a young lady. But I am terribly glad that she has you
and you have her.

I do remember Grandmother Crawford. She loved us so
dearly. What a stark contrast to our own upbringing. For years I had misinterpreted
Mother’s criticism as love. Criticism is not love. Love was Grandmother
Crawford with her hugs and kisses and a pocket full of candy.

I have often thought of asking Jennifer for an extended
stay here, but our home is remote and our social life consists of weekly Sunday
dinners at our home or at one of Jake’s sister’s homes. Perhaps Dallas would be
more fitting for her.

Please do not stop writing because of what I am about to
say. I know I have never said how truly sorry I was that events transpired with
Turner that should not have occurred; however, I will never be sorry I had
Jillian. She is a light in my life, and I don’t regret anything that gave her
to me. But as I look back, which I did for quite a few months on my return
here, I realized I should never have trusted what Mother told me. I accepted it
as gospel, and I wonder now if it was true. She told me that your and Turner’s
engagement was off, that you’d found someone else, and that perhaps Turner
would be interested in me. She helped me fix my hair that evening and choose a
dress. It was so unlike Mother, and I was so thirsty for her approval that I
believed everything, including when she told me that you did not care for him
and that I had best be prepared “to give him everything” if I were to snag him
before some other debutante did. I would have never accepted his advances if
Mother had not told me that you were uninterested. And then, of course, I fell
in love with him, or, at least, thought I had.

I went to Aunt Mildred’s shortly after, if you remember,
and Mother wrote me that you’d made up with Turner and that the wedding was on.
I was mortified. You see, I worshipped you - your style and thin body and grace
and cool-headedness. I never set out to hurt you, but I did. I’ve often
wondered how you found out that Turner and I had been together. I don’t put it
past Mother to have told you at some unfortunate time.

Please write again. I want to hear more about your new
family.

With all my sincerest love,

Julia

Jolene read the final two paragraphs and then reread it with
a clenched jaw. She’d always blamed Julia for trying to steal Turner and for
being so loose as to literally raise her skirts in the gazebo behind Willow
Tree. But Julia had no reason to not tell the truth now. It was true, and the
blame she’d always placed on Julia would deservedly be placed on Mother. She
should have known they’d been manipulated! Jolene jumped up from the chaise,
ran downstairs and to the stables.  Pete saddled her horse hurriedly, and
she rode out across the open fields as fast as she dared and rode until she
could no longer see the Hacienda. She let the wind whip through her hair and
sting her eyes. Jolene slowed her horse and trotted across the empty grasslands
ahead. She felt tears at the back of her eyes but would not allow herself a
cry. What a fool she’d been! Blaming Julia for all these years. Wasting energy
bottling up feelings of betrayal and anger so that no one knew she’d been
deeply hurt. She heard hoof beats in the distance and turned in her saddle.

“Jolene!” Maximillian shouted as he rode up beside her,
causing her horse to dance and whinny. “What in the hell is the matter with
you, woman?”

“What are you talking about, Maximillian?” she shouted. “There
is nothing the matter with me!”

“Riding off like some crazed fool out into deserted
territory! There are poachers and thieves and all other kinds of bad actors
about. Do you know what they’d do with a woman like you? Do you?”

Jolene shook her head.

“They’d lift your skirts and then sell you across the
border, Jolene!”

She looked up at him. “Nothing has happened, Maximillian.”

“Well, it could have if Pete didn’t come get me as soon as
you cleared the yard. He wasn’t even sure which way you went. Do you even know
which way the Hacienda is?”

“I needed some time alone. I had to get away from everyone,”
she said. “I suppose I owe you an apology.”

“Jesus, woman,” he said as moved his horse closer until he
was leg to leg with Jolene. He grabbed the back of her head, pulled her forward
and kissed her hard. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Maximillian pulled on her horse’s bridle till she was turned
around. They rode in silence till they arrived at the Hacienda. He lifted
Jolene from her mount and held her still. “No more running off again. I can’t
take it.”

Chapter Thirteen

Max had spent too much of his day
thinking about what could happen to an unarmed, unprepared woman in the wilds
of Texas. But it wasn’t just any woman. It was Jolene, and the thought of his
wife in danger was terrifying. Now he pushed his food around on his plate,
half-sick with the thought, and wondered what had prompted Jolene’s hurried
ride.

“What did you sister’s letter say?” Melinda asked Jolene.
“Are you going to read it to us? Daddy always reads the letters out loud from
Granddaddy and Grandma Shelby.”

Jolene shook her head. “I will not be reading my letter
aloud.”

“A letter? I didn’t know you got a letter, Jolene,” Max
said. “That’s an occasion around here. We even make Zeb read his letters from
his mother.”

“Please pass the rolls to Mr. Moran, Melinda,” Jolene said.

“Please, Jolene,” Melinda said. “I didn’t even know you had
sisters till today. Where do they live? Do I have cousins? Aunt Eugenia and
Uncle Calvin don’t have any children.”

Jolene was silent, staring down at her plate. Just as he
thought Melinda was about to launch into another plea, he changed the subject
and talked to Zeb about connections he’d made at the Cattlemen’s Ball.

Melinda looked at Jolene. “May I please be excused?”

“You may,” he said when Jolene did not respond.

Max watched Jolene as she ate small bites and sipped her
wine. There was little color in her face, and he wondered if the letter Melinda
mentioned set off her ride and her disengagement during dinner. Melinda had
gone, and Zeb stood to leave as well. Jolene pushed back her chair abruptly and
stood. Zeb caught her chair before it hit the floor.

“Excuse me,” she said. “Excuse me.”

Max watched her hurry from the room and looked at Zeb. “I
wonder what was in the letter.”

“You’re the husband. It’s your job to find out, I imagine.”

Max sipped a whiskey and figured Zeb was probably right. He
poured a brandy for Jolene and carried both drinks to her room.

“Jolene?” he said as he knocked. He waited a few minutes
with no response. “Jolene. I’ve brought you a brandy.”

A door down the hallway opened. Alice walked out. “Mr.
Shelby?”

“Yes, Alice?”

“Mrs. Shelby is lying down and did not want to be
disturbed.”

Max walked over to the maid. “At seven in the evening? Did
she go to bed already? Is she sick?”

“She is not in her bed, sir.”

“But she’s not feeling well?” Max asked.

Alice shook her head. “She told me I was no longer needed
for this evening. I am in my rooms. But I shouldn’t say more, sir. It is not my
place.”

“Thank you, Alice,” he said and watched the maid close her
door.

Max was pretty certain that his wife was hurting badly. He
didn’t know what to do to help her, but he sure couldn’t do
anything
standing
in the hall outside her room. He tested her doorknob, and it turned.

“I’m coming in, Jolene. I’m just warning you in case you
aren’t decent,” he said. Max listened for any hurried movements but heard
nothing and opened the door. Jolene was lying on her side, with her back to him,
on the chaise near the balcony.

Max sat the glass of brandy down on the table beside her.

“Get out,” she said.

“I’m not leaving, Jolene, so you might as well roll over and
tell me what the problem is.”

She rolled over, sat up and slipped her feet into slippers.
“Get out. These are my private rooms.”

“I’m not leaving.”

Jolene stood, her face red with anger, and picked up the
glass of brandy. She threw the liquor in his face, and hurled the glass across
the room. “Get out!” she screamed.

There was knocking from a door in Jolene’s dressing room,
and he heard Alice calling. “Mrs. Shelby! Are you alright, ma’am? Mrs. Shelby?”

Max pulled his hanky from his back pocket and wiped his
face. Jolene was red-faced, but he thought perhaps now more due to
embarrassment than anger. Jolene walked into her dressing room and spoke
quietly at the door to Alice’s room. She came out and bent down to gather
broken glass from the floor near her desk.

“I suppose I have made some progress. Had any staff heard
breaking glass behind a door at Landonmore, they would have known better than
to inquire. You see it was a constant there.”

Max knelt down and held out his hanky for Jolene to put the
broken glass in.

“I’m sorry, Maximillian,” she said without looking at him.
“Very sorry.”

“Don’t cut yourself, Jolene.” She stood and seated herself
on the chaise. Max sat down on the chair beside her. “Would you like more
brandy?”

Jolene didn’t answer, but he sent Alice to bring the bottle.
He had a niggling feeling Jolene might need it, and he may need a swig or two
by the time he left her room. He picked up an envelope lying on the table
beside him, and Jolene watched him as he did.

“You’ve got a sister in the Dakotas?” he asked as he laid
the letter back down.

“Julia,” Jolene said finally. “She is curious about Melinda.
I will have to write her back.”

Alice brought the brandy and a new glass and hurried through
the connecting door in Jolene’s dressing room. Max poured her two-fingers worth
and sat it down beside her.

“Alice only brought one glass, so you’ll want to hang on to
that one,” he said.

Jolene picked up the glass and took a long drink.

“This is the one that married a shopkeeper?” he asked.

“She didn’t actually end up marrying the shopkeeper. A
mix-up of some kind that only my sister, Julia, could become embroiled in,
happened at the train station, and she married a man she knew nothing about. At
the least, she had corresponded for a year with the shopkeeper. But she didn’t
marry him. She married a farmer named Jake Shelling.”

“How did she find this shopkeeper? Was he connected to your
family somehow?”

“No, we knew nothing about her plans,” Jolene said and
looked at him. “She found his advertisement for a wife in the Boston
newspaper.”

“She really was desperate to get away, wasn’t she?”

Jolene nodded. “I faulted her originally, but . . .”

“You don’t fault her anymore?” Max asked.

“It was beyond foolish to do what she did. But I don’t think
she believed there was any other way out. If she hadn’t done it, Julia would
still be at home with our mother who would be matching her endlessly with men
that she thought may be useful to her or to the bank in some way.”

“Why was your sister so desperate to escape?” he asked.

Jolene smiled. “You really don’t want to know the
machinations of Jane Crawford. Let us talk of something more pleasant, shall
we? What do you think the outcome of the Ball will be?”

Max shook his head. “Don’t do this, Jolene. We have one
chance, I’m thinking, to make this marriage bearable, maybe comfortable, and
even some possibility that we will mean the world to each other. I like you.
Maybe more than like you. You’re not flashy and fawning over people around you,
but that doesn’t mean you don’t care about them. I’ve seen how you treat Alice,
and I get the distinct feeling that you never took notice of a servant before
this, let alone insist on certain accommodations for one. And you’ve made a
world of difference with Melinda. She’s doing well with regular studies and
learning to be a lady, but she’s not afraid of you in the least. She adores you.
You’ve already stepped into our lives with your grace and your style. Don’t
stop at the doorway. You have to come the whole way.”

Jolene’s eyes were filled with tears and one tumbled down
her cheek. “I’m afraid, Maximillian. I’m afraid if I let it out, I will never get
it back inside me, safely locked away.”

Max stood and put one arm under Jolene’s knees and one hand
around her back. He picked her up and stretched out on the chaise, holding her
in his arms. He tucked her head against his shoulder and kissed her forehead.
“Let it out, Jolene. It’s just you and me, and I’ll guard your secrets till the
day I die. I think your past owns you somehow, and sometimes talking it out
loud is enough to let the past be in the past and to stop letting it rule you.
Take your time now. I think you’ve been waiting a long time to say this to
anyone, and a few more minutes won’t hurt.”

“Our home was not a happy one,” Jolene said finally. “My
mother was constantly belittling someone, whether it be the servants or her
children or her husband. I learned to act as though it didn’t matter what she
said and took my frustrations out on my sisters or on schoolmates who did not
know how to fight back. I was horrible.”

“At some point, I started understanding how unhappy my
father was being married to my mother. He sat me down one day when I was
eighteen or so and told me that he loved me dearly, but that I was turning into
my mother. It was the worst possible thing he could have said to me, and I was
very, very angry, but the more I thought about it, the more I knew he was
right. It was a defining moment for me. I let myself dream then that once I was
away from Willow Tree, I would leave off the anger, and the lashing out at
servants, and the cruelty that had been my hallmark. I even thought about
moving somewhere other than Boston where it would be easier to begin again and
spoke to Turner about it after we’d become affianced. But he was so caught up
in becoming the Crawford son-in-law at the Crawford Bank that he could not
imagine giving up the opportunity.”

“So you married him and stayed in Boston.”

Jolene nodded against his chest. “I was happy and excited to
be married and running my own home. I refused to let Mother’s harping about the
wedding expenses or Turner’s family deter me. And there was such a scandal
brewing in our family that I thought I would never see the altar.”

“A scandal?”

“Yes,” she said. “A scandal. Mother had sent Julia to stay
with our Aunt Mildred because, you see, she was expecting a child. She
was-sixteen-years old. No one spoke about the particulars, but there was a
gloom over our household just weeks before my wedding. I was desperate that no
one find out about her condition even though she wasn’t in Boston. Mother was
as well, it appeared at the time. One week before my wedding, Mother sat me
down and told me that she and Julia would be taking an extended holiday
together after my wedding, perhaps even to Europe, and that when they returned,
I would have a new brother or sister. I was appalled but said nothing. None of
us did.”

Jolene sat up then and stood. She walked to the window and
looked out. Max waited because he was certain that was not the end of the
story.

“Mother visited me on the day after my wedding. I was
packing for my wedding trip. I was a virgin, of course, on my wedding night,
and was reveling in feeling womanly. Turner and I were both young and
inexperienced, but it had been a wonderful night. I was feeling loved and
cherished and wanted,” Jolene said wistfully. “And then she told me that Turner
was the father of Julia’s child.”

Max sat for some time digesting that final sentence. When he
looked up, he saw that Jolene had sat down on the edge of her bed. He knelt
down in front of her, held her hands and kissed her palms. She looked exhausted
and brittle. “It’s out now, Jolene. The worst is out. Turner is gone from this
earth, and you’re not in Boston any longer. There are no constant reminders of
his betrayal.”

Jolene stood and retrieved the letter. She handed it to him
and he unfolded it and read. “So all this time you’ve blamed Julia, and your
mother orchestrated it all.”

“Yes. I’ve hated Julia all these years. Much as I hated
Turner and Jillian, their daughter.”

“What did Turner say to you?”

“Nothing. We never spoke of it. But he knew that I knew. The
expression on his face when I told him that Mother and Julia would be traveling
for a year was all the confirmation I needed. I had been trying to change, to
begin my adult life being less critical, less cold to other’s feelings, but
that ended on the first day of my honeymoon.”

* * *

Jolene felt as if she’d been
hollowed out. That there was nothing left to her but skin and hair. Then
Maximillian’s arms were around her, and he kissed the top of her head. She let
herself relax against his chest, and he picked her up again. This time though,
he stretched out on her bed and pulled her close to him. Jolene thought about
all the wasted years and anger that she’d put herself through. Tears fell from
her eyes, and Maximillian wiped her face and shushed in her ear. It was dark
out now, and she lay there in his loose embrace and listened to his even breathing.

Jolene woke up the next morning with her head on
Maximillian’s chest. The facts were out now, she supposed, with no way of
bottling it up again, and in all truthfulness, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. Some
long held tensions that had propped her indignation upright had relaxed. She
sat up on the side of the bed, pushed her hair back from her face, and quickly
braided the thick tresses, wrapping the end with a satin ribbon.

“There is something very beautiful about a woman working her
fingers through her hair,” he said from behind her. “I could lie here all day
and watch you do that.”

Jolene stood at a knock on the door to her dressing room.
She opened it and found a pot of tea and one of coffee and two cups on a tray.
There were sweet rolls with a crock of butter and jam besides. She picked it up
and carried into her sleeping room.

“I do not believe I have the appetite for more than some
tea,” she said. “It appears that Alice knew you hadn’t gone to your rooms.”

Maximillian shrugged and stretched. He sat up, scratched at
the stubble of his beard, ran a hand through his hair and looked up at her. “If
you thought for one second I was going to leave you after you told me what you
did, you still don’t know me very well.”