I Prefer You

He was fresh.

Jessica paused, hands on one earlobe, removing an earring. It still happened from time to time, and it never failed to gladden her heart. It had been some time since she'd felt his presence so strongly.

"I had it under control, darling."

You did. Doesn't mean it was ok.

"Not the first time," replied Jessica archly. She returned her earrings to her jewelry case, then maneuvered her arms in such a way that made it easier to unzip her gown. "You never minded unzipping me."

It was always my pleasure. That distinguished gentleman made it clear he wouldn't have minded, either. In fact, I rather thought he was going to—

"Never you mind, darling. Nothing happened."

Much.

"What?"

Nothing much happened. Why not?

That brought Jessica up short. "What are you getting at?"

You're a beautiful, desirable woman. Successful. Rich.

She swore she heard the teasing lilt in his voice. "Nonsense."

I could never have given you those clothes. That jewelry. I couldn't even give you an engagement ring.

Jessica smiled and twisted the simple gold band on her finger. "You gave me so much more," she said, a slight tremor in her voice. Frank had been gone for six years now, and she'd adjusted to this new normal. That didn't mean she couldn't still be overwhelmed by waves of grief and longing.

It's nothing to what you gave me, my darling.

"Oh, Frank." Jessica doffed her gown and hung it in the closet. It would need to be sent to the cleaners, but she didn't see any reason to crease it further. She padded to the bathroom where she brushed her teeth, then began removing her makeup.

You're so beautiful, so full of life. You have so much still to give. And you've no dearth of suitors.

Jessica rinsed her face and patted it dry, then rubbed a dollop of face cream into her skin. "I just haven't found the right man. After all, who could compete with you?" She walked back to her bedroom, pulling the straps of her slip down her shoulders. She stepped out of it, then her underclothes and put them in the hamper. She slipped into the pair of silk pajamas she'd laid out earlier.

I wasn't perfect, Jess.

"You were perfect for me." She smiled. "We had such a good, strong marriage. And I've grown accustomed to living alone. To doing as I please. No one to answer to." Jessica turned the bedside lamp on, then walked to her bedroom door and switched off the overhead light.

I can see you enjoy that. But with no one to answer to, there's no one to come home to, no one to wake up with. No special person to turn to when you're in need of comforting.

Jessica walked back to her bed, pulled down the bedclothes, and plumped her pillows. "Frank, are you trying to tell me I made a mistake tonight?" She got into bed.

Not tonight, woman.

She jolted as she was arranging the covers around her shoulders the way she liked them. "Woman? You've never called me that before."

It's not my nickname for you.

"I know that," she said sharply. "Why would you call me that?"

Because I like the man who calls you that.

"I like him, too," said Jessica archly. "That doesn't mean—"

I think it does.

The gentle tone of his voice sent a shiver up her spine. "Why are you doing this, dear heart?"

Because I know you, Jess. Better than almost anyone.

"Almost?"

There's someone who knows you, who you are now, better than I do. Better than anyone else.

"You can't be sure of that," she whispered.

I am. And so are you.

Jessica sat up in bed. "I am not!"

Then why are you so upset by the idea? If it's nonsense, why are you so agitated?

"He's nothing like you!"

He's more like me than tonight's escapee from a toothpaste commercial is.

Jessica laughed in spite of herself. These men Susan found. Attractive and well off, every one, but they weren't terribly bright or interesting. She did wonder. Tonight's gentleman caller…oh, Jess. You sound like you're in a Tennessee Williams play.

You see?

"See what?"

Seth would have enjoyed that witticism. He's intelligent, curious. Honorable.

Jessica smiled. "Of course he is. We're friends. Dear friends. He understands me."

You mean he lets you flit about, doing whatever you choose while he waits patiently at home for you.

"That's not what I meant at all! Besides, you were the one that said he knows me. He knows how I feel about you."

A-yuh.

"Stop it."

He does know how you feel about me. It's the same as he feels about Ruth.

"Of course," said Jessica stoutly. "That's why we get on so well."

Is it, Jessie?

Jessica lay in bed, mind whirling. She'd begun to have certain…thoughts…

It's alright, sweetheart.

Jessica felt the tears prick her eyelids. "I can't lose you again, Frank."

You'll never lose me. I'll always be a part of you. But I can't be with you, not the way we used to be.

"I know," and she swallowed a sob.

It's not wrong to want to love again. To let yourself love again.

"I'm afraid," she whispered.

I know, darling. Why do you think we're talking?

"We aren't talking, Frank. You're just a figment of my imagination."

Perhaps. Or perhaps we really are talking and it's you who's just to stubborn to believe.

She laughed in spite of herself. What wouldn't she give for one more day, one more hour with Frank? But he was gone, and she was here. He was right. She had begun to consider what was lacking in her life, and she'd begun to plan what she might do about it.

Seth was pacing. She seldom took the train from New York, but she'd called him a few days ago to ask if he'd mind picking her up at the train station. As if he'd mind! She must have some idea the effect she had on him. Sometimes it felt like all of Cabot Cove could see what she studiously ignored.

But what could he offer her? In a strictly financial sense, she was worth at least ten times what he was, probably more. Even though his lack of financial stability, at an age where he might be expected to have established some degree of stability, embarrassed him, he knew that Jessica wasn't troubled by the disparity in their incomes. In fact, he was almost certain she knew all about his financial status. The good women of Cabot Cove left no stone unturned when it came to a widower's curriculum vitae, and he smiled as he imagined his personal profit/loss statement being passed from female to female.

But his Jess wasn't' a gossip. She wasn't shallow. And she wasn't his. He stopped pacing to check his watch. The train should be pulling into the station any moment. He took a few slow, deep breaths. He didn't hold with Eastern medicine and its devotees. A bunch of uninformed hippies and rich, bored housewives, Shirley MacLaine notwithstanding. But he couldn't deny the calming effect of regulating his breathing. He didn't want to seem anxious, unsettled. Odd. After all, if the papers were to be believed, she'd recently enjoyed a romantic evening of dining and dancing on the arm of some slim, wealthy man about town. He couldn't compete with that. He took a few more breaths for good measure.

He risked a glance at her out of his peripheral vision. She was as bewitching as always. Jessica grew older, but somehow she managed to look as lovely and fresh as a teenager. He grunted and pulled his gaze back to the road. Thoughts like those wouldn't do either one of them any good.

"Everything alright?"

"A-yuh."

"You've been awfully quiet since we got in the car."

"Just thinking, that's all."

"What's on your mind?"

Seth somehow managed to control his furious urge to roll his eyes. "Just this and that. Nothing much worth talking about, woman."

She looked at his profile. He certainly was prickly this afternoon. "Why do you call me that?"

"Call you what?"

"Woman. You're the only person I've ever known to use that particular…what would you call it? Nickname? Appellation?"

Seth laughed. "I like that. Yes, appellation." He grinned and spared a glance at Jessica. The road was straight and narrow, and he had both hands on the wheel. "But I must admit I'm surprised at you, Mrs. Fletcher!"

She looked perplexed. "What do you mean?"

"You…a mystery writer. A former English teacher. You can't place the allusion?"

She grinned back at him. "I hate to admit I'm stumped. I just assumed it was something you heard growing up. A name you called Ruth," she added softly.

He grasped the steering wheel. "No, that wasn't something I called Ruth." He cleared his throat. "It's from Sherlock Holmes." He risked a quick glance at Jessica, who looked at him blankly. "Holmes meets a woman named Irene Adler, who might be the only character who ever truly outwits him. He comes to refer to her as The Woman. I've always thought it was the supreme compliment. I think he's trying to say that she epitomizes womanhood. She's everything a woman should be."*

The air in the car grew still, and he cleared his throat. Him and his big mouth. He was afraid that he'd made Jessica uncomfortable. So uncomfortable that she wouldn't want to be alone with him again. How lonely his life would be. It was already a pale shadow when she was gone.

"Seth?"

"A-yuh?" he said gruffly.

"Can you pull the car over?"

"Why?" His heart rate spiked and he thought he might have to do some more deep breathing, no matter if it made him seem odd.

"Would you please just do it?"

"A-yuh," he murmured. He drove a few miles until he found a stretch of road with an adequate shoulder.

"Turn the car off."

He looked at her in surprise. "I can't turn the car off, Jess. It's not safe. Why should I turn the car off anyway?"

"So I can do this." She unbuckled her seatbelt and slid across to him. She turned his face to his and kissed him, a warm, gentle kiss that caused his heart to clench in his chest.

"Jessica?" he murmured against her lips, but she just kissed him more deeply still, and ran her hand along his thigh. Seth struggled with his seatbelt, but he finally unbuckled it and twisted toward her so he could crush her against him. Damn the steering column.

They kissed for a long moment. He squeezed her shoulders, traced a finger along her cheek and down the column of her neck and was delighted when she shivered. After a few more minutes of kisses and caresses, Jessica drew back.

"I've been thinking it's time one of us did something."

"Something?" Seth repeated dumbly.

"Something about the way we feel."

"How do we feel?"

"We love each other, but I think we're also in love with each other. At least, I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you."

"Pretty sure?"

She cocked her head and stared into his eyes. He was completely smitten. "It might take one or two more kisses for me to be sure."

Seth, always a cautious, responsible man, drew Jessica to him in the cramped, uncomfortable front seat of his station wagon, parked on the side of the road in broad daylight, and kissed the woman in his life senseless.

*This idea is wholly and completely PixieKayGirl's. I'm borrowing here again, and I hope she doesn't mind. It's so brilliant.