“Elijah said something about him sending letters, but they went to Chicago instead of here.” Her best friend’s words softer this time, laced with a hint of something Jessalyn had no desire to ponder.
“Yes, he sent letters. And money.”
“And that doesn’t change anything?”
Jessalyn paced to the stove and lifted the kettle only to find it empty. Of course. Because there was still more tea in the pot on the table. She shook her head. What was happening to her? Thomas hadn’t been back a day, and he was muddling every last thought she had. “I don’t know what the letters mean. I suppose they mean he tried. But if he really wanted me and the girls back, why not leave his hotel for a few months and come get us? Why just send letters and money?”
“He did come get you, Jessalyn. That’s why he’s here now.”
“And it only took him five years. Not five months or one year. Five whole years.” She sank back into her chair and picked up the teapot, but her hand quivered so badly the lid rattled against the pot. “He might say he wants me to go to South Dakota with him, but how can I trust him? How can I know he won’t abandon us if we have money trouble again? I don’t have just myself to think of this time around. All of the girls are old enough to remember him.”
Tressa stared down into her own cup of tea. “All right, I can understand why you’re hesitating, even though I’m not sure I agree with it.”
“Thank you.” But was her hesitation only prolonging the inevitable? She was still married to Thomas, even if they’d spent half a decade living two separate lives, and that gave him legal rights to everything she possessed—no matter that she’d earned it without him.
“‘Except the Lord build the house, they labour in vain that build it.’” Tressa’s quiet words echoed through the kitchen.
“What was that?” She reached for the teapot again, managing to pour the liquid with nary a tremble in her hand.
“Psalm 127:1.” Tressa patted Sarah’s back. “Sometimes when I find myself struggling with Mac, or struggling with memories from my first marriage, I remind myself of that verse. God’s the one who’s in charge of building my life with Mac, not me, and certainly not my past with Otis. But I have a habit of getting in the way, of messing things up.”
Except the Lord build the house…But no, it didn’t apply to her and Thomas. “There’s no point in discussing this. I bet he’s already left town with the sailors like I told him to.”
The tiny babe squawked, and Tressa rose from the table, swaying in that age-old motherly way while she patted Sarah’s back again. “It seems awful improbable that a man who came all the way from South Dakota would leave after only talking to you once.”
She’d had the same thought as she’d tossed and turned in her bed last night. What if Thomas didn’t leave but found someplace to stay in town? What if he declared he’d wait all winter for her and the girls? She stared at the plain white wall of her kitchen that she’d always been too busy to paint. If Thomas had truly changed, if he was willing to stick by her rather than abandon her, then she’d have to give him another chance, wouldn’t she?
She took a sip of tea and closed her eyes. A rush of memories flooded her mind. Good memories, the kind that warmed her heart the way the tea did her throat. Thomas mistaking her for the warehouse secretary the first time they’d met, and his rambling apology when he’d realized she was Henry’s cousin-in-law instead. The spark of delight in his eyes the first time he’d called on her at Henry and Mathilda’s house. The deep, happy laughter that had rumbled from his chest on their snowy walk back from the Chicago Academy of Science one winter day.
The way he’d smoothed hair back from her face in the falling snow and told her he’d make sure she never ended up back in the tenements. Then he was standing before her on their wedding day, his dark blond hair combed meticulously to the side and his cologne wafting toward her as he promised to love, honor, and cherish her until death parted them.
Crack!She looked down to find her tea cup lying on its side while tea quickly covered the table.
She jumped back lest it stain her dress.
“Oh dear. Here’s a rag.” Tressa rushed toward her with a damp cloth.
“Thank you.” She took it and began sopping up the tea. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.”
“I do. You were lost in thought and dropped your cup.”
Her hand stilled on the tea-soaked rag, and she looked up and met her friend’s eyes. “I don’t know if my heart will survive if he stays, Tressa.” How did she forgive a man who’d promised to cherish her until death, but had abandoned her instead? “I barely survived the last time around.”
Tressa drew in a deep breath, then let it out. “I wish?—”
“Jessalyn? Hello?” A familiar female voice called from downstairs.
Ruby. How could she have forgotten? The mother of eight was supposed to stop by for more mending this morning. “I’ll be down in a minute!”
“Take your time,” another familiar voice called, probably Lindy Harrington, the doctor’s wife. The group of women who sewed for her must have all come together this morning. “We’ll just look at the dress you’ve started.”
“You go downstairs with the women.” Tressa moved to the table and took the rag. “I’ll clean up here.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.” She spun away from the table and darted down the stairs to find Ruby Spritzer, Lindy Harrington, and Aileen Brogan in her shop. “Ladies, I’m so sorry I forgot.”
“It’s not any trouble.” Lindy spoke from where she and the other women stood near the sewing machine, her blonde hair glistening in the faint light from the shop windows. “I’m sure you’ve had other things on your mind.”
That was one way to put it. Jessalyn glanced at Ruby and Aileen, neither of which had been at Dr. Harrington’s last night. Had the other women heard of Thomas’s return too?
