Chapter 7

A/N: This chapter contains dialogue from "Mirror, Mirror."

"As you're leaving tomorrow, Jess—"

"Oh, don't remind me, Claire!" groaned Jessica. "Circumstances notwithstanding, I've had the most pleasant time catching up with you. I know I have to leave, but I don't want to go." She sighed contentedly. "Strange how even a terrible murder can't disrupt the peace that flows here. Not for long, anyway," she corrected hastily.

"Mmm," Claire agreed. "Evil touches us even here, but even here, especially here, God's love is strong, protective, and restorative."

"That's the word I've been searching for. I do feel restored after our visit."

"Anything in particular disturbing your peace, Jessica?"

"Nothing other than the usual whirlwind of deadlines, obligations… You know, I don't think I was quite prepared for this aspect of writing. I love sitting down and wrestling with the puzzle, but I can't say I care overmuch for the attenuating details of the publishing business. Between you and me, the pace is getting to me." She stared off into space. "This isn't how I saw the remainder of my life playing out."

"No?" prompted Claire quietly.

Jess looked at her, a bemused smile on her face. "No. I thought Frank and I would be spending our golden years traveling, fishing, puttering about the Cove." She smiled again. "Watching Grady's children grow up…if he ever has any, that is!" She sighed. "This new life…don't misunderstand, Claire. There are parts of it I've enjoyed. I've enjoyed them a great deal. The travel," she paused.

"The clothes!" interjected Claire.

Jess grinned. "You know I always did like pretty things."

"You did. And you were very stingy with your clothes back then."

"I hardly had a complete wardrobe! I couldn't afford to go lending things out willy-nilly. Especially not to the, shall we say least delicate of my sorority sisters?"

"You mean slob? I certainly was back then. You'll never forgive me for spilling ketchup on that angora sweater, will you?" Claire and Jessica laughed companionably. "Do you know they put me in the laundry as a novice? Believe me, I became much more careful after that experience." Claire looked at Jessica fondly. "But you were saying that perhaps you'd like to step back from the fast-paced life of a published author?"

"Maybe," mused Jessica. "Seth has been complaining lately that I'm hardly ever home. I do miss the Cove when I'm away, but when I am home, I often have to spend so much of that time chained to my typewriter that it doesn't feel like I'm back at all."

"And what does Seth say about that?" asked Claire.

Jessica cut her eyes at Claire. "What are you hinting at, Claire?"

"Nothing, Jess. I just asked a simple question about someone whose opinion appears to matter to you a great deal. Whose friendship and companionship you treasure."

"I think you're reading more into it than there is," protested Jessica weakly.

"Reading is right, Jess. I've read your letters—many times—they're so lively and entertaining, so thoughtful and even philosophical at times. And the, shall we say motif, of your letters these past few years is Seth," Claire said lightly.

"We're friends," said Jessica. "I don't have many friends that I get on as well with in the Cove. You know that."

"I do. But, that being the case, why do you stay in Cabot Cove? Why do you return to Cabot Cove so frequently, if there's nothing much there for you?"

"Frank is there!"

"Is he, Jess? Is he really there in Cabot Cove? Isn't it more accurate to say he's with you wherever you go? You could close up that drafty old barn of yours and live, well, anywhere! What's so special about Cabot Cove?"

Jessica turned to face the wall and hugged herself. "I'm not sure what you're getting at, Claire."

Claire came up behind Jessica and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I think you do, Jess," she said quietly. "I think you know exactly what I'm getting at, and I think it scares the dickens out of you." She felt Jessica's shuddering breath under her palm. "I'm not asking you to do anything, Jess. I'm only asking you to think about what it is you want. What it is you really want."

"I'm not sure what that is."

"I suggest you take some time to think about it," retorted Claire crisply. "Seems to me you're running from something, Jess. You need to answer for yourself what it is and why it scares you. Because I can see that it does." Jessica turned to face Claire, and Claire saw the tears pooling in her eyes. She'd pushed Jessica enough this evening. "Here now, what's all this?" Claire squeezed Jessica's shoulders. "We can't spend your last night here without having a little fun!" She got a mischievous look in her eye. "Tell you what. Let's sneak down to the kitchen and hunt around for some ice cream. I think we might even have mint chocolate chip," she said in a wheedling tone.

Jessica laughed and dabbed at her eyes with her fingertips. "You had me at ice cream," she smiled fondly at Claire. "Thank you," she said quietly, and Claire couldn't be sure if Jess was thanking her for bringing up such a painful subject, or dropping it.

Seth walked into the kitchen, expecting to see Jessica at her typewriter. He was hoping to tempt her to take a break with him and have a meal out for a change. But she wasn't there. "Jessica? Hello, Jess?"

"Up here, Seth," she called.

"Where are you?"

"I'm in the bathroom."

For all his professional skill at managing patients and their various ills, there were still things that caused Seth embarrassment personally. "Well, I'll just wait down here, woman!" He could hear her sharp peal of laughter.

"Come on up, Seth! I'm just cleaning the grout!"

Seth shook his head as he walked upstairs. Of all the foolish notions. Why didn't she just have the girl come in all the time, not just when she was traveling? And there she was, on her hands and knees with the tile brush and scouring powder. Good grief that smell was strong. "Jessica," Seth began.

She smiled charmingly at him over her shoulder. "Now, Seth, don't fuss. There's no greater cure for writer's block than cleaning grout. It really focuses your mind on avoiding the task at hand." She pointed the tile brush at him. "Great for the imagination!"

His imagination didn't need any more help...not with her in that position. He cleared his throat. "I'm going to say it anyway. You shouldn't be down there, woman! Why don't you have your girl come in all the time? Don't you think—"

Jessica turned and waved the tile brush in Seth's general direction. "I just got a lecture from Claire, Seth. I don't need one from you, too."

"Oh, really? I can't wait to hear."

"If you want to make yourself useful…"

Seth raised his hands hastily. "Even if I could get down there with you, I'd never get back up again. I'd sooner call my housekeeper, anyway."

"Ha ha."

"Tell you what. I came over to see if I could tempt you with a meal out, but I see you're otherwise occupied. How about I run down and pick something up for us? That ought to give you enough time to finish up here."

Jessica rocked back on her heels. "That sounds good to me, Seth. Can we have pizza? Extra cheese?"

Seth rolled his eyes. "If you insist. Want a side salad?"

"I'd love one. I can only eat a slice or two of pizza anyway."

"Sure. Let me handle the rest." He patted his belly. "Thanks." He turned to go back downstairs. "I'll be back around 6:30."

"What time is it now?" Jess hollered at his back.

"It's 6:00 p.m. on a Friday night, woman."

"I knew it was Friday!"

"That I doubt. Be back soon."

"This isn't a bad bottle of wine, Jess."

"I'm glad you like it. It came in a basket from the booksellers association. I thought it couldn't hurt to open it, but you just never know."

"Booksellers association? Why are they sending you a basket?"

"Just something they sent along for the last book. I just hadn't gotten around to opening the wine. You know I'm not much of a drinker."

Seth was quiet for a moment. "You said your friend Claire had some words for you last weekend?"

Jessica smiled, but to Seth's practiced eye it seemed a bit forced. "She did indeed."

"Care to elaborate?"

"She thinks perhaps I might be happier writing and traveling less."

"And what do you think?"

"I like my life," she said firmly. "Sometimes the pace is a bit hectic, but when I consider the alternative…" She trailed off.

"What's the alternative?"

"I don't know," she said softly, "and I don't like that."

"Uncertainty is part of life," said Seth gently, "and it doesn't always mean something bad." He patted her hand companionably.

"What do you mean?"

Seth couldn't help but hear the edge in her voice. "I mean that we never know the hand life will deal us," he said lightly. "Just like the old Kenny Rogers song." At Jessica's blank expression, he grumbled. "You must've heard The Gambler, Jess. It was a huge hit…they played it everywhere." He hummed a few bars.

"It doesn't ring a bell. Sorry!"

He pointed his slice of pizza at her. "One day, Jessica. One day I'm going to make a country-western fan out of you."

Jessica mused. "You know, I'm almost certain I've got a trip to Nashville sometime soon. They have country music there, don't they?" She cut her eyes at him.

"Don't wind me up, woman," he said around a mouthful of pizza. "I know you know that. You might really enjoy Music City."

"Maybe you could meet me down there?"

"That's a nice thought. I always did want to see the Grand Ole Opry."

"See? It's useful having a published author as a friend."

"Never said it wasn't! I'm sure Claire didn't say that either. I expect we're both just concerned about you. That's all."

"There's nothing to worry about, Seth," Jessica said firmly. "But, " she softened, "I appreciate the concern."

Seth grunted. "What about hiking up at Spooner's Mill while you're home?"

"Sounds nice. When were you thinking?"

"I'll check with Beverly and let you know."

A companionable silence settled around them. Seth was relieved. Jessica was so busy lately that they hadn't had much time to spend together. He didn't want to spend what little of it they did have wrangling over something he had no hope of changing.

"Mrs. Fletcher? I, uh, I just talked to one of the nurses. They've taken him to I.C.U."

"Yeah, but what's wrong? What's the matter with him?"

"Uh, she said we'll have to talk to his doctor."

" I-Is he gonna be all right?"

" I don't know."

Mort escorted Jessica up to the ICU. She looked so lost, defeated. He never thought he'd see the day when Mrs. Fletcher appeared so defeated. He wondered, when he'd first moved to Cabot Cove, about the true nature of Mrs. F's relationship with the doc. In his earliest days, he'd mistaken them for a couple, but he was quickly disabused of that notion by his wife, Adele.

"I already asked," she said, in her usual forthright way. "They're just friends, Mort."

But they did spend an inordinate amount of time together, in his opinion. And their teasing banter was just this side of affectionate. But, he was a fairly experienced reader of people, and as he'd gotten to know Mrs. F a little better over the last few months, he could see she'd built a pretty big wall around herself. It was clear to him that she wanted no entanglements of any kind, beyond friendship. But seeing her now, pale and withdrawn, almost needing to be led by the hand, he wasn't quite so sure. He went to the nurse's station to announce their presence.

"Excuse me. I've brought Mrs. Fletcher up to see Doc Hazlitt."

The nurse frowned. "Doctor Hazlitt isn't allowed to have any visitors."

"Hold on, Barbara," interjected another nurse, young and lively. "When Dr. Jones checked on him this morning, he told me it'd be alright for Mrs. Fletcher to be in the room with him." The young nurse smiled at Jessica. "You're Mrs. Fletcher?" Jessica nodded mutely. "Dr. Jones said a visit from you would do for Dr. Hazlitt better than any medicine we could give him." Jessica's face registered shock and she looked to Mort, but he'd already schooled his features into a mask of neutrality. "You've come at a good time," said Kit cheerfully as she came around the nurse's station and took Jessica's arm. "Dr. Jones will be back by shortly."

"Is he…will he be alright?" asked Jessica weakly.

"I think Dr. Jones was pleased by the progress Dr. Hazlitt's made. But I'm sure he'll fill you in on everything once he gets back." She paused in front of a darkened room, the curtains drawn. "Here we are." Kit drew the curtain aside. "You can go right on in."

Jessica looked for Mort, who'd been following the two women. He jerked his chin at the hospital bed. "You go on in, Mrs. F. I've got some things I need to do back at the office. Call me when I'm you're ready to go home."

"Thank you, Mort. That's very kind," said Jessica softly, and she turned to enter Seth's ICU room.

Jessica sat by his bedside, the only noise the rhythmic beeps and groans of the machines keeping him alive. All she could think of was the last, awful conversation they'd had.

You know, Jess, I have arrived at an age where—Well, I expect we both have—where I don't think we ought to have to rev the engine as hard as we used to."

"Well, are- are you saying that I'm working too hard?"

"I'm saying that's all you seem to have time for these days. Have you looked at your garden lately? The weeds are about to carry off the rhododendrons."

"Well, l- I've got a lot of obligations."

"To whom, Jess? Now, a few years back, you needed this writing to help you get through the empty days and lonely nights. I know that. I went through it myself. But Frank's a long time gone now, just like my Ruth. And another best seller, or 10 best sellers, is not going to fill that void."

"Seth, I know that."

"Maybe yes and maybe no. All I know is that if Frank Fletcher were still around you wouldn't be spending half your life chained to that typewriter and the other half chasing around the country. No, sir. You'd be out smelling the salt air at sunrise."

"Seth, are you trying to hurt me?"

"Hurt you? Oh, for pity's sake, woman. That's the last thing I want to do."

Jessica knew Seth was right; it was why she'd immediately deflected. Are you trying to hurt me? She knew she'd been using work as a reason to avoid him, avoid what she was just too cowardly to face.

Claire's voice echoed inside her head, You're running away from something, Jess. Writing had been her salvation after Frank died. She enjoyed immersing herself in a fictional world filled with people and events she could control. It was the moat she'd built around the tremendous grief that threatened to overwhelm her anew after her excruciating experience with Preston.

In this alternate universe, she could lose herself. All the sharp edges of her grief were smoothed out. She could ignore everything but what she chose to focus on. Then, when she'd experienced some success, she had the means to travel more freely, and she often used the opportunity to check in on her family, to occupy herself with their needs and concerns. Claire was right. She had been running—figuratively as well as literally. And if she could admit that to herself, then she had to admit that to Seth, too. But she wasn't sure she was ready to do that. A slight movement jolted her from her reverie.

"I didn't mean to startle you."

Jessica turned in her seat abruptly. "It's quite alright, Doctor?"

"Dr. Jones, Mrs. Fletcher."

Jessica came over cool. "I wasn't aware we'd met."

"We haven't. But even if my wife weren't such a big fan of your work, I'd know you anywhere from Seth's description." He paused. "I'm glad you could be here."

"How is he, Doctor? Will he be alright?"

"Yes, I think he's over the worst of it."

"What was it? What is it?"

"He appears to have eaten something tainted with poison."

"Oh good lord," said Jessica. "He ate an apple from that basket on my kitchen table. Oh my god."

"He tested positive for thalium, which is common in over the counter rat poisons." Dr. Jones looked at her carefully. "I hope you've removed that basket of apples from your home."

"I'm sure the Sheriff has taken them as evidence," said Jessica absentmindedly, then looked at the doctor. "But he'll recover?"

"Yes, he'll make a full recovery. As soon as he regains consciousness, we can run a few minor tests and probably release him from the ICU as early as this afternoon."

Jessica let go of the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "Oh, that's good news."

"I'm always glad when I get to deliver that. I'm glad you could be here, Mrs. Fletcher. It'll do Seth good to see a friendly face when he wakes up." The doctor noted the peculiar expression on her face. He hoped he hadn't overstepped. He'd observed Seth's somewhat dour persona brighten considerably anytime the subject of Mrs. Fletcher came up. He had hoped, for the man's sake, that something might develop out of that friendship. Seth was a good doctor as well as a good friend, and Dr. Jones hoped Seth could find a measure of happiness for himself after so many years of grief and solitude. He noticed Jessica staring at him intently. "Well, I'd best get on with my rounds. Give the doc my best when he wakes, and tell him I'll be by again this afternoon."

Jessica nodded. "I will, Dr. Jones. And thank you."

"Hello, Jess."

"Oh, Seth. You know, you're the last person I ever expected to see in a hospital bed. How are you feeling?"

"God awful. My stomach seems to be hosting some sort of barbecue. Jessica tried to hide the tears that would come, but Seth saw them fall.

Oh, now. Here, here. What's this?" She shivered as she felt his fingertips brush against her cheek.

"Sorry. I was just deathly worried."

"About what? It was a touch of indigestion. Must be that new diet. My system simply cannot abide healthy food."

"Then you don't know?"

"Know? Know what?"

"It was poison."

"Poison?"

Jessica nodded. "Someone poisoned that basket of apples."

"Eudora?"

"No, certainly not," scoffed Jessica, then remembered where they were. She patted Seth's hand. "You need to rest." She settled her purse firmly on her shoulder.

"You're leaving now? I just woke up."

The plaintive tone in his voice clutched at her heart. "Seth, I need to find Mort. Something just doesn't add up." She smiled at him, then leaned down and dropped a kiss on his forehead. She had an urge to gather him to her, to keep him safe, somehow. What a foolish notion. "I'll be back. In the meantime, you behave. Don't give Kit or any of the other nurses a hard time." She flashed one more brilliant smile as she headed out the door. "If you do, I'll hear about it!"

A/N: I've been thinking about Seth, Jess, and Nashville for awhile now. Consider this an early Mother's Day present! Thank you for reading and reviewing. It means a lot.