“He is showing me a kindness as a friend! It isbecauseeverything here is topsy-turvy and not as I left it and I cannot get my bearings that I have worried people might not know if they should dance with me or not. Mr. Boyd is willing to set the example so that others may follow and I do not end up spending the night watching everything from some sad corner.”
Ellena considered her finely groomed fingernails in silence. Perhaps they were a reminder of her status. Perhaps she simplycouldn’t look Jillian in the eye. “I am so sorry that everything has become such a struggle for you.” Her tone was soft. Her gaze, as it lifted, was almost mournful. “These were the very difficulties I feared for you when you chose to marry Lewis. And I have no cure for what troubles you. I can only say that it is not such a terrible affliction as you deem it. A challenge, certainly, but it is not all doom and gloom to give up some freedoms for happiness.”
“I’ve never heard such nonsense!” Jillian blurted out. “My freedomsaremy happiness! Stifle them and I am no longerme. How can I be content when I am not myself?”
Ellena bit down on her lip. “Jilly, I am sure you will agree that you are more ‘yourself’ than most people. You have known a very unburdened childhood and no sorrow at all. You have been able to enjoy a carefree existence, and that has been an enormous privilege. But did you really imagine the rest of life would require nothing of you? All these friends from your youth have found satisfaction in humble work and clear boundaries. They have not bewailed their circumstances a tenth as much as you. Quite frankly,” said Ellena, the pitch of her voice rising, “if you do not stop acting quite so spoiled, I shall be very disappointed, indeed.”
The bluntness of Ellena’s speech hit Jillian squarely in the gut. What a terrible thing to say! And from her best friend!
“Perhaps I should stay with my parents, after all.” She sniffed. “Then I do not risk offending your sensibilities.”
All softness fell from Ellena’s face. “You would shun my family and inconvenience your own just to avoid taking a good, hard look at yourself? Fie on you, Jilly! I thought more of you than that.”
Jillian sat primly, her indignation puffing up until it flowed over into speech. “Well, you are just the last in a long line of people who deem me a disappointment. Apparently, it is acardinal sin to be true to oneself. But I shan’t kneel to any such bullying.” She rose with a jolting suddenness and whipped around to make for the door.
“Jillian, wait!” Ellena cried. “If you don’t listen, things might well end very badly for you. You can never be happy in your life with Lewis if you do not allow for some change. What you are clinging to is a childish dream when you could have the real thing.”
Jillian stopped with her hand upon the doorknob. She turned slowly, rebellion burning within her. “My unhappiness has nothing to do with a lack of realism. I am disappointed with Lewis because he broke promises he had made. And he wanted me to be the only one who compromised.”
Ellena shook her head. “His brother’s death brought challenges to you both. You did not make room for Lewis to catch his breath any more than he did for you. You both tried to squeeze your expectations into circumstances where they no longer fit. If you really loved each other, mutual support and understanding would have come before demands. But you loved theideaof marriage. It was all play and endless freedom. No marriage can survive such willful insistence that all should go according to plan, especially when such plans are counter to where you find yourselves. There is a reason we make an oath. Marriage is hard. If we did not pledge to be loyal, then times of struggle would easily undo our affection.”
Jillian’s lip began to tremble. “I don’t want to hear any more.” Nausea lurched up into her throat. She pulled open the door with gusto, fled down the corridor, and descended the stairs swiftly, driven to such haste by an urgent need for fresh air rather than the usual lively abandon.
Outside, she leaned forward, her forearm bent against the wall of the house as she sucked in deep mouthfuls of cool breath. The queasiness subsided somewhat but did not altogetherdisappear. Walking carefully like a landsick sailor, her steps feeling unsteady and the nausea threatening to rise again, Jillian maneuvered her way to her family home.
It was strangely quiet. The boys must have been busy elsewhere. Jillian sat down gingerly, then jumped up frantically and emptied the contents of her stomach into the flowerbed by the door.
“Jillian?” came the worried voice of her mother. She hastened forward, a basket of eggs swinging precariously on her arm as she did so. “Wait here. I will fetch water for you to rinse your mouth with.”
Mrs. Kinsey hurried inside and came back with a jug of water and a cup, which she filled and handed to her daughter. “Rinse and spit,” she instructed.
Jillian did so.
“Better?”
Jilly nodded.
“Come and sit down. I will make you some ginger tea.” Her mother threw out the rest of the water over the befouled plants to cleanse them, then hurried to put the kettle on the stove. “Is the food too rich for you at the big house?” she asked, throwing a concerned glance Jilly’s way while she bustled around collecting the ginger root and breaking a piece off into the cup.
“Ellena and I had a falling out,” Jilly mumbled low, wary that any sudden move or exertion might trigger another trip to the flowerbed.
“All friends have disagreements. Why are you allowing it to upset you this much?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t think I was. One minute, she was scolding me for promising a dance to Simon Boyd at the shindy tonight. The next minute, I was ready to retch out my breakfast.”
An “o” of realization formed on her mother’s face. “Jilly, when last did you bleed?”
“I don’t remember exactly. I’m a few weeks late with all the stress and the travelling and…” Jillian’s expression shifted to match her mother’s. “You don’t think…?”
Mrs. Kinsey smiled in a knowing way. “I do.”
“You think I am with child?”
Her mother laid her hand upon Jillian’s shoulder. “I think you are with child.”
Jilly cupped her own hand across her still-flat belly. If her mother was right, a little life was forming there, deep within the safe cocoon of her body. A little Lewis or Jillian. Her breath snatched. Something beautiful may have come from the unhappiness of the past months…
“Should I tell Lewis?” she asked aloud.
