(Find previous chapters and a description of the project here.)

It is Sunday morning. She is still in bed. It is past dawn, but she has been awake since Jesse rose, dressed in the dark, and went for a run. He’s in the shower now. She listens to the sound of the water running. She pulls the sheet up to her chin. She looks at the clock. It is 7:04.

               The water shuts off and she hears the shower door slide open. She imagines him stepping onto the bathmat, droplets streaming down his legs, falling from his hair. She knows his body, but not in this domestic, ordinary way. She has watched him dress himself countless times, but never after a shower, after a run, in the morning. He is running the faucet at the sink now. She hears him brushing his teeth, and then a few minutes later, the whirring of his beard trimmer. She rolls to her side. She can see him standing at the sink, towel wrapped around his waist. His back still looks wet.

               He is finished. He exits the bathroom and their eyes meet. He smiles at her. She raises a hand to him, beckoning. He comes over to the bedside, unwraps the towel, dries his body again, drops the towel on the floor, then slides under the sheets beside her. She scoots to make room for him.

               They both stay quiet, but Rebecca can’t turn off her worries. “What do your parents really think?” she asks quietly. She thinks of the look in his eyes yesterday when they talked about his dad.

               “What do you mean?” he replies. He drapes an arm across her body. “I told you Dad was happy.”

               “Did you talk to your mom?” she asks.

               Jesse hesitates. “I did. She was…less happy.”

               “I don’t think she likes me,” she says.

               “Why would you say that?” But he sounds like he knows the answer already.

               “She doesn’t like me because I…She had an idea that we’d end up together, right? But then I married Alan instead.”

               Jesse nods slightly, as much as he can with his head on the pillow. “And now Alan’s dead, and you’re running to me for comfort. I’m your second choice.” He sounds flippant, dismissive.

               She doesn’t like this assessment. It feels unfair, but it also feels too truthful. Would she rather have Alan than Jesse? Now, she isn’t sure.

               “What time are you leaving?” she asks.

“I like to be there by 8,” he answers. He glides his hand over her thigh.

She looks at the clock again. It is 7:12. “Should we say anything about this?”

Jesse’s smile looks forced. “I’m sure they already know,” he replies. His voice is thick with worry.

“Martha,” Rebecca whispers, giving voice to the thing that concerns them both. “She’s probably told the whole world by now.”

“Our little piece of it at least,” he says.

She rolls to her back. “I don’t have anything that fits.”

His hand runs along her stomach. There is a noticeable bump now. She needs to buy maternity pants. Jesse kisses her forehead without saying anything. She extends her neck and he places a kiss there too. His hands move up her body, underneath the nightgown. She adjusts her legs, makes room for him in the middle. He kisses her. She lets him move as he wants to. She tucks one leg towards her chest and clutches him around his waist.

The daylight is streaming in the window now. He rolls off her, picks up the wet towel, and wipes himself clean. She watches him open the closet, where he has placed a few of his clothes. That side of it was empty. She never filled it with anything after she gave away Alan’s things.

She throws back the sheet, practically runs to the bathroom, and spends about 3 minutes in the shower. She returns to the bedroom, her wet hair tied up in a towel, and selects a dress that she thinks she can tug over her breasts and her stomach. She looks in the mirror. It is stretching in all the wrong places. She takes it off. She tries another one. This one is better in the stomach, but the bodice is so tight she feels like she can barely breathe. She takes this one off too. “Do you think I can get away with leggings?” she asks.

He is buttoning his shirt. He doesn’t look at her. “What are you wearing on top?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t even go,” she says.

He comes to her side, takes the dress from her hand and hangs it back in the closet. “Put on whatever fits, babe. It’s…the least of your worries, honestly.”

She does not like these words. The truth in them is crushing her. “Leggings it is, then,” she says, moving away from the closet to the dresser. She tugs them on, bringing them over her hips, but not up over her belly. They hug her pelvis in a way she does not like, but unless she is going to wear pants and keep them buttoned by using a rubber band looped around the button hole, this will have to do. Finding a top that fits around her middle and also covers her belly is a challenge. She finally chooses something just because she’s running out of time.

In the kitchen, she brews coffee, before she remembers she shouldn’t drink it, then remembers that Jesse will. The boys and Jesse are sitting at the table eating cereal. Brett and Finn are still their pajamas. They are looking at Jesse almost warily. There is a question Finn wants to ask him, she can see it in his posture. The coffee finishes brewing, and she pours a cup. She moves through the kitchen to the dining room. She deposits the cup in front of Jesse.

“So, are you like…our dad now?” Finn finally asks.

Jesse puts down his spoon and looks at both the boys. Their eyes move from him to her, looking for affirmation, for direction, for an answer. “I don’t know,” Jesse answers. “What do you think?”

“Well, Lila has a step-dad and he basically acts like her dad. But Drew has a step-dad too and he lets Drew do whatever he wants,” Finn answers.

Jesse doesn’t respond to this. He glances up at her instead.

She doesn’t know what to say, but she gets the feeling he’ll defer to what she wants. She doesn’t know what she wants. She can’t even get used to the idea that she’s married again. The boys have known Jesse their whole lives. He’s always been like a fun uncle to them. How is she supposed to expect any of them to act like he’s their father now? “Let’s just figure out as we go, okay bud?” she asks Finn.

He shrugs. “Okay,” he says, spooning cereal into his mouth.

Jesse leaves the house at 7:40. She doesn’t normally leave until 9:20. That gives her enough time to get a second cup of coffee at the church, chat with her friends and get to her usual pew before the service starts. This week, she would rather leave at 9:40, sneak in the back and then leave before the benediction. She watches Jesse back his car down the driveway, and it’s like watching him go to his own execution. She has no idea what will await them at the church today, but she can’t imagine it will be welcome and congratulations.

She splits the difference and leaves at 9:30. She’s not getting coffee, so she doesn’t need those extra ten minutes. She arrives, parks the car, sits in the car longer than she should, chews her nails, stops chewing her nails, finally gets out of the car. She walks into the building a step behind the boys.

“Good morning, Rebecca!” says Linda Abernathy as she comes through the doors. “Good to see you!” Linda is in her sixties and has the most grandmotherly smile you ever saw. That’s why they ask her to stand at the door.

“Hi, Linda. Doing okay?” she asks.

Linda suddenly seems to notice what Rebecca is wearing. “Oh, yes,” she stumbles. She smiles widely. “Doing just fine. Is it laundry day?” she asks.

She laughs. “Nothing seems to fit right this morning,” she answers. She can feel Brett watching her. “You know how it is sometimes,” she says, as she scurries away.

Brett and Finn dutifully follow her towards the sanctuary. In the narthex, she pauses, looking for Cindy or her mom. She doesn’t see them mingling. She scans the crowd. Near the door to the sanctuary, she sees Martha talking to Harry Abbot, Myrtle Abbot’s son. He is the chairperson of the church’s personnel committee. Rebecca flushes with anger but averts her eyes. She does not want Martha to see her.           

               “Hey!” she hears from behind. She turns. Jenny Layborne is reaching her arms forward for a hug. Rebecca accepts the embrace from her friend. “I heard a rumor about you,” Jenny says.

               Her heart stops. “You did?”

               “Yeah! Your sister said you got that client you were trying to land.”

               Rebecca’s heart starts again. “Oh! I did! Yes, I did!” she says happily. She has not had time or energy to be happy about it. “We chased that one for a while. Gonna be a good quarter, hopefully.”

               “Well, congratulations. I think it’s great.” She pats her on the arm. “What else is new?” Jenny leans forward. “I wish I was brave enough to wear yoga pants here,” she jokes.

               She is regretting wearing the leggings. She should have done the rubber band trick with a pair of pants instead. She laughs but it sounds fake. “Yeah. Well, I’m gonna grab my…”

               “Rebecca, can I speak with you?” Martha is standing about 2 feet from her with a look of pure disgust. Her tone is abnormally formal.

Jenny goes stiff, glancing between the two of them. “I’ll, uh…talk to you later!” she says. She moves away from them.

“Brett, can you and Finn go sit down in our normal spot?” she asks, not looking at the boys. They leave too, though she can tell they are reluctant. Her anger is rising, but she tries to keep it under control. “I was sorry that you didn’t stay yesterday,” she starts.

Martha is not in the mood for small talk. “I told Harry about you,” she states flatly.

“Oh, you did?” she asks innocently, holding her chin up higher. “What did you say?”

“Cut it out, Rebecca!” she snaps. A few heads turn their way. “You know what you did.”

Rebecca is fighting for control of her anger. Her cheek twitches with rage. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because it isn’t right, and you know it.”

“Martha, please. This is hurtful,” she explains. “I didn’t do this on purpose.”

“Maybe not, but you still have to deal with the consequences. You broke the rules, Rebecca,” she says. She is calm now. “You shouldn’t break the rules.”

“The rules!” Rebecca exclaims. She is too loud. She lowers her voice. “The rules aren’t fair. I’m a person with real feelings, Martha. And so is he.” Martha scowls. She continues. “It’s not like that other situation,” she says. “I’ve known him for half of my life.”

She thinks she’s found some sympathy, though it won’t matter. The damage is already done. “How long did you wait after Alan died?” she asks.

It is a cruel question. It contains unspoken accusations. Rebecca stews with guilt, but it pales to the fury she feels. “You have no idea what it was like,” she hisses. She resists pointing a finger in Martha’s face. Instead, she leans closer, speaks lower. “You don’t know what you would do because you haven’t been through it.”

“I know one thing though. I have integrity,” Martha says, haughty, self-righteous.

Rebecca is too furious to reply. She simply walks away, moving through the sanctuary doors. She storms down the aisle. The boys are sitting with Cindy and her mom. She slides into the pew, fanning herself with the bulletin. Jesse is on the chancel. He is looking at her. She can see the tension in his body. She wonders what he saw. She wonders when Harry is going to approach them. She wonders if she will ever feel safe here again.