Judith Stacy - The One Month Marriage

Charles cast his gaze away. “No, ma’am.”

“I see.” Jana drew herself up. “Cook is preparing supper?”

“Yes, ma’am. Seven o’clock, as always.”

“Of course. Seven o’clock.” How could she have forgotten Brandon’s designated supper hour?

“Shall I have Cook prepare you some refreshment?” Charles asked.

“No, thank you.” Jana removed her hat and passed it to the butler along with her handbag. “That’s all, Charles. Thank you.”

He dipped his head slightly and crept away.

Jana moved through the still house, switching on lights as she went. The fixtures had been built for both gas and electricity. Tonight, the electrical current flowed smoothly, making the more reliable gas jets unnecessary.

In the parlor, the light cast a harsh glare on the half-papered walls and reflected off the white furniture shrouds. The smell of paint hung faintly in the air. Jana stood in the center of the room, turning to take it all in.

Good gracious, had she really picked out this wallpaper, this paint color? And the mural on the ceiling. A hunting scene? Hideous. What had she been thinking?

Her thinking had been just fine fourteen months ago, she suddenly remembered. But no one had been interested in her opinion.

The color samples, fabric and wallpaper swatches were piled in a heap on the shrouded settee. Jana sat down and immersed herself in them, her mind filling with ideas that would do this room justice. She lost track of the time until, vaguely, she heard a clock chime the hour once more. Seven o’clock.

Seven o’clock and no Brandon. Jana rose from the settee and went to the vestibule. She peeked out. Gaslights burned on West Adams Boulevard. The trolley had stopped for the night, but carriages made their way up and down the street.

No sign of Brandon.

At seven-thirty, Jana went to the dining room, ate alone, then returned to the parlor. At eight-fifteen Brandon arrived home. She went to meet him.

“You’re here. Good,” he said, passing his bowler and satchel to Charles, and striding across the foyer to where she waited. He looked rushed, hurried, distracted.

“I ate supper already,” Jana told him, just for something to say.

He frowned. “You know I prefer we eat together. Well, no matter—this time. I saw your trunk outside. I’m glad you’ve come to your senses. Have it brought inside and—”

“We need to talk first.”

Brandon stopped, seemed confused for a moment, then nodded. “Well, all right.”

She trailed along behind him as he strode to his office. He flipped through a stack of envelopes on his desk, then glanced up.

“So, you’re staying,” he said. “Good. We can—”

“For thirty days,” Jana pointed out. “I’ll give it a month. That’s our agreement. Unless, of course, at some point you change your mind.”

Brandon frowned. “I have no intention of changing my mind.”

“Fourteen months have passed,” Jana said. “You might realize too much is different now.”

“Nothing’s different,” he insisted.

“It was your idea that we try again,” Jana said. “If you find that it’s a mistake, I won’t hold you to the agreement. I think that’s only fair.”

“Fine, then.” Brandon went to the door, called for Charles, then instructed him to have Jana’s trunk taken to her room.

When he turned to Jana again, his expression changed. It was subtle, unnoticeable to anyone who didn’t know him well. Darker eyes, deeper breathing.

She knew what it meant.

“Shall we go…upstairs?” he asked, his voice low.

Jana didn’t answer. He walked beside her through the hallway, up the wide curving staircase, down the carpeted corridor to the suite of rooms they’d occupied as husband and wife.

Jana opened her door and walked inside, feeling the heat of Brandon’s body behind her. She hadn’t delivered all her conditions for staying yet. She’d saved the last one for now because she intended to deliver it at this time and at this place, so as to leave no question in Brandon’s mind.

She swung around to face him. “Where are you going?”

Brandon stopped short in the doorway. His gaze darted past her, then landed on her again, looking slightly confused.

“Your room is next door, if I recall,” she said.

He frowned, as if still not understanding. “But this is your room, and here is where we always used to…you know.”

“Well, there will be no ‘you knowing’ between us,” Jana informed him.

Color drained from his face. “But…”

“Not for thirty days, anyway.”

“Thirty days?”

“It’s the trial period you agreed to,” she reminded him.

“Yes, but I didn’t think you meant we couldn’t—”

“Our lives are too unsettled,” Jana said. “We wouldn’t want to complicate them further.”

“But—I—”

“Good night, Brandon.”

“But—”

She closed the door in his face.

A brisk knock and the door easing open brought Jana fully awake. She pushed herself up, holding the bedcovers over her breasts, and tossed her dark hair over her shoulder.

Brandon? Her heart thumped harder, jolting her. Was Brandon entering her room? Last night she’d forbidden him to enter and he’d respected her wishes. But now at dawn, had he changed his mind?

Jana squinted across the room and blinked the sleep from her eyes, bringing into focus the figure of a young woman, not her husband, entering her bedchamber.

“Abbie? Is that you?”

“Yes, Mrs. Sayer. Good morning,” the maid replied crossing to the bed.

Jana sat up, genuinely pleased by something in this house for the first time since her arrival.

“Good gracious,” Jana said, “I can’t believe it’s really you. You’re still here?”

Abbie smiled, a warm familiar smile, looking equally pleased. “Yes, ma’am. I’m still here. After all this time.”

“But—how? Why? I thought you’d be long gone.”

The young woman—not much older than Jana—had been her maid when she’d first arrived here as Brandon’s new wife. Abbie didn’t look any different, dark curls barely contained in her white cap, gray uniform with crisp apron, a pleasant smile on her face. Abbie had been Jana’s lifeline, at times, during that tumultuous period.

“I thought I’d be let go for sure, after you left,” Abbie confided. “But Mr. Sayer wouldn’t have no part of it. He said I was to stay. For when you got back.”

Jana’s stomach twisted into a knot. “When I…got back?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Abbie assured her, bustling about the room, picking up the clothing Jana had left on a chair last night. “I’m truly sorry, ma’am, that I wasn’t here when you arrived. My aunt, she was feeling a bit under the weather, so I was visiting with her. Charles, he sent for me, told me to get back here straightaway.”

“It’s all right, Abbie,” Jana said. “I managed well enough for myself last night.”

Abbie turned to her, Jana’s dress folded across her arm. “It’s good to see you again, Mrs. Sayer. Truly, it is.”

“Thank you, Abbie,” she replied, climbing out of the bed.

“Does this mean you’re staying?” she asked. “This time?”

Jana could have been insulted by Abbie’s question, offended by her impertinence. But Jana liked her. They’d become more than employer and maid in the past. Jana could use Abbie’s allegiance—and confidence—this time, as well.

“I wanted a divorce, but Brandon insisted we give our marriage another chance,” Jana told her. “I decided we should do just that…and see what happens.”

Abbie cast a pointed glance at the bed, the covers still tucked in neatly at the bottom, barely disturbed. But she said nothing as she headed for the large redwood closet.