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

It is Friday. She sits at her computer, staring at the screen. There is an email from Laura Miller in her inbox. Laura teaches children’s Sunday school. Brett and Finn haven’t attended regularly in two years, but Laura has kept up with them regardless. The subject line of the email reads Heard some news. She can read the first line of the email in the preview. Hi Rebecca! I heard you got married!

               Her phone dings. She looks down at the screen. It is from Jenny. Martha said you got married?!

               Rebecca shoves herself away from the desk, scaring Zeus. She stumbles over him as he tries to stand. She walks out the house, leaving her phone behind. She doesn’t bother to lock the door. She walks down the street in a daze. She comes to the corner. She hesitates, wanting to keep walking, but knowing she can’t hide from any of this anymore. She waits, thinking, stewing, chewing her nails. She turns around and goes home.

               There are 3 more messages that she has missed. One is from Jenny. She said you and pastor Jesse got married. One is from Lucy Davis. Hey! There is a crazy rumor going around about you right now. Somebody told me you were pregnant. Can you believe that? The last one is from Cindy. Are you okay, Bec? Call me when you get a minute.

               She takes Cindy’s advice. Ignoring Jenny, Lucy and Laura, she calls her sister. Cindy picks up right away.

               “So, I guess everyone knows now,” Cindy says.

               “Seems like it,” she says. She feels like she is standing on a cliff surrounded by fog. If she misjudges any step, it could mean death. She can’t see her way. “What am I going to do Cindy?” she asks softly.

               “You’re going to tell everyone to go to hell,” Cindy says.

               “Cindy!” she scoffs.

               “Well, I don’t know, Bec. It’s like you’re stuck no matter what you do. Even if he resigns, what would the two of you do? Go to a new church?”

               “I probably wouldn’t, honestly,” Rebecca confesses.

               “Oh, Rebecca…don’t say that,” Cindy says.

               She waits. The question she wants to ask bubbles up from inside her until she can’t contain it. “Is this my fault, Cindy?” she breathes.

               Her sister is very quiet. She can imagine her screwing up her nose as she thinks about how to answer. She waits. She glances at the clock. It is only 9:47. This is going to be a long day.

               “I think you did the best you could,” Cindy finally answers. “I can’t say that I would never have done something like this. I mean—God, Bec! It was hard enough when David and I got divorced. I can’t imagine what I would do if he died.”

               “Okay, this isn’t making me feel better,” she admits.

               “Sorry. I just mean that people shouldn’t judge you. Not unless they actually know what you went through. And maybe even then…Well, nobody should judge you.”

               Rebecca is nodding at Cindy’s affirmation. “Mom still won’t talk to me,” she says.

               “Well, she’s pretty mad, but I think she’s just mad about having to explain you to her friends.” Cindy laughs, but Rebecca doesn’t think it’s funny. “She’s embarrassed.”

               “How does she think I feel?” she scoffs. She sits at her desk. Zeus lays down again. She puts her feet on his back like he’s a foot stool. He hears him yawn.

               “Do you think it’ll blow over?” Cindy asks.

               “Maybe,” she says. “Jesse is probably going to resign,” she continues. She can’t hold in her tears. “That’s what I feel the worst about. I can take anything they want to throw at me, but I’m not the only one who is going to get dragged through the mud.”

               “When is he meeting with Harry?” Cindy asks.

               “This afternoon,” she answers. “You should have seen me at that meeting last night,” she says, feeling momentary pride. “I was so smooth. I didn’t answer anything. It felt so good.”

               “You didn’t answer anything?!” Cindy exclaims.

               “Not really. I used the phrase, ‘I decline to answer’ a lot.”

               Her sister laughs and she laughs and this feels like a triumph but she also doubts that it will save her from the inevitable fall. She doubts it will save Jesse. But she is still pleased that she did not cave, that she did not grovel and that she did not apologize for how her grief overcame her.

               “I can just see Harry’s face,” Cindy laughs. “I bet he was mad.”

               “Definitely mad,” she says. The guilt is sliding back into its normal place in her thoughts. The phone has been dinging the entire time she has been talking to Cindy. “I’m getting blown up. I should go. See how many fires I want to put out today.”

               “Just call me if you need another firefighter. I’ll bring you an extra bucket.”

               She smiles. She can almost see Cindy winking at her. “Thanks, Cindy. Love you,” she says.

               “Love you too, Bec.”

               She opens her messages. There are five new ones to read. Another from Jenny. Even if that was true, why would Martha tell people? There is one from Jane Peters, and one from Emily Simmons and one from Kristen. People are being so AWFUL about this. There is one from Anna too. Did you have your sonogram? How does the little peanut look?

               She replies to Anna first. Baby looks perfect. Then she replies to Kristen. This might actually be the worst thing I’ve lived through, and that’s saying a lot. She ignores the rest.

               She tries to focus on work. She sends emails to clients. She takes a phone call from her boss. She spends about a year petting Zeus instead of working on a proposal. She thinks about quitting and moving to Maine. She looks at real estate listings on Peaks Island. She almost books herself a trip to Scotland. She wonders if she could start a new career as a zookeeper. Or a lighthouse keeper. Or a hermit. She looks up how many acres she would need to grow enough food for her and the family to survive the winter. She drinks her decaf macchiato and chews her nails as she reads.

It is 12:58. She goes to the kitchen and opens the fridge. There is leftover chicken, but she just eats baby carrots, straight out of the bag. Then she eats potato chips straight out of the bag. She sends Jesse a text. I love you. He does not reply. There are now 17 messages she has ignored. She throws away the empty chip bag. She fills a glass with water and sips slowly as she gazes out the window.

               She somehow passes another hour. And another. She finishes the proposal. She checks the mail. The boys come home. She still has not heard from Jesse.

               It is 5:14. She is sitting on the couch. Zeus has not left her side all day. She strokes him slowly. He raises his head, barking at the sound of a car. Jesse opens the front door. Her eyes are locked on him. He notices her on the couch. He sets his bag down in the foyer and moves towards her. He looks like he’s been through hell. His hair is out of place. He has sweat through his shirt. His eyes are glazed over. He sits next to her. His thigh touches hers. She offers her hand to him, and he takes it.   

“You didn’t reply to me,” she says. Her voice is soft.

“I didn’t see it until after I met with Harry,” he says. “And then I got a call, and I had to schedule a hospital visit…” He stops, sighs heavily. He runs his hand over her hair. “I’m sorry.”

“What happened?” she asks, squeezing his hand.

“I tried to resign, but he wouldn’t accept it,” Jesse answers. “Said he wanted to clear things up before I made any decision.” He leans back, sinking into the couch. “He wasn’t satisfied with anything I said. It’s like every answer I gave was the wrong answer.”

“What did he ask?” Rebecca inquires, though she already has an idea.

“He asked about you. Our relationship. Why we were hiding. Why we got married. If the baby is mine. Why you wouldn’t answer his questions.”

She expected as much. She imagines Harry grilling Jesse like panini, crushing him between his regret and his hopes. “Did you answer him?”

He smiles slowly. “I did. And then I tried to resign again, and he said he wouldn’t accept it until he spoke to his committee.”

“What?” she asks, confused.

Jesse frowns in thought. His eyes are focused on nothing. He leans his head towards her, and he is magnetic. She sinks lower on the couch, cuddling up to him, laying her head against him. He drapes an arm around her shoulders. “He wants me to apologize.”

“Apologize for what?” she questions.

“Lying. Overstepping boundaries. Taking advantage of you.”

“You didn’t do any of that,” she argues. “He may see it that way, but that’s not what happened.”

“Isn’t it, though?” he asks. “Are you sure that’s not what happened?” He sounds angry, but she can’t determine why. She doesn’t think he’s angry with her.

She raises her head and looks him in the eyes. “That’s not what happened, Jesse,” she assures him.

He is rubbing his beard. “I don’t know what’s worse. Resigning in shame or being forgiven.”

She is silent. She knows that feeling. She has 34 unanswered messages from friends and family. Almost everyone has said they heard the news, that they were not aware she was involved with Jesse, that they are happy for her. She can’t allow herself to feel relief. She is still waiting for punishment.

Her phone dings. She reaches for it, picks it up from the arm of the couch. It is Martha. Rebecca please call me when you get the chance.

“Martha wants me to call her,” she murmurs.

Jesse hums. He pulls her closer to him. She leans against him, again molding herself to his frame. The dog licks her hand as she places the phone back where it was. “She probably wants to apologize,” she says.

“Why do you think that?” he asks.

“Because she’s always been like this. She always said she would never even kiss a boy unless he was going to marry her.” She frowns, remembering. “She always tried to make me feel bad for flirting, or going on a date, or having a boyfriend.”

She looks at Jesse. His brow is creased. “Do you think she’s jealous?” he asks.

“No. I think it’s more likely that she’s just…asexual? Aromantic? A bit of both maybe. She’s never been in a relationship and has never seemed to care.”

“So why do you think she did what she did?” Jesse asks. “Why not let you be happy? Do you think she wanted…” He struggles to find a word. “Justice?”

“I don’t think she knew what she wanted. I think she saw something that made her uncomfortable and she wanted to kill it. She reacts without thinking how it might impact people.” Rebecca stops herself from continuing down this line of thinking. There is no need to tell Jesse how much pain Martha has caused. He is also living it. “I should probably call her, but I really don’t want to.”

Jesse kisses her. It is long and lingering and she really wishes she had actually booked that trip to Scotland. When he pulls away from her, he says, “You don’t have to right now. Give yourself some space.” He kisses her again, and Rebecca feels a small hope that they might survive this crisis.