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Chapter 11
Sarah chuckled as she cracked an egg into the pan. "Well, it must have been some night if you're both still looking like you've been dragged through the fields. I heard Mark saying he didn't even hear you come in."
Rose shot Jack a half-hearted glare across the table, her head still throbbing slightly from the night before. "That's because we practically tiptoed in. Didn't want to wake the entire house," she muttered, resting her chin on her hand as she sipped her coffee.
Jack rubbed his temples, trying to shake off the lingering effects. "It wasn't the easiest walk," he admitted, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Betty had a bit too much, so it was like herding a cat all the way to her door."
Rose tried to suppress a smile as she remembered how Betty had clung to Jack's arm the entire way, giggling and stumbling over every little rock in the road. "You didn't seem to mind too much," she teased. "She was practically hanging on you."
Jack groaned, rolling his eyes. "Tell me about it. I thought she'd never let go." He paused, glancing at Rose with a slight smirk. "I'm surprised you remember anything from last night with how much you were drinking and dancing."
Rose's cheeks flushed a little. "I remember perfectly, thank you very much," she replied defensively, though the blush gave her away. She had, in fact, felt a rare sense of freedom last night—something she hadn't allowed herself in a long time. But the memory of it all, of Jack's light-heartedness, of David's laughter, of that unexpected thrill she hadn't felt in ages, made her feel slightly embarrassed now in the daylight.
Sarah placed a heaping plate of scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon in front of them, shaking her head as she watched them. "Well, sounds like you two had enough fun for the whole town. It's a shame we don't have parades more often."
"Or maybe it's for the best," Rose mumbled, digging into her breakfast. She could feel Jack watching her, his gaze steady and almost… amused.
After a long pause, Jack finally spoke. "So, Miss Williams, any plans for today?" His tone was casual, but there was a flicker of curiosity behind it.
Rose shrugged, keeping her eyes on her plate. "Not really," she replied, trying to sound offhand. "Probably just help Sarah with the house, maybe some reading."
Jack chuckled, shaking his head. "Recovering from last night by staying indoors? I'm disappointed, Rose. After all that dancing, I'd think you'd be up for something more interesting."
She looked up at him, her eyes narrowing in challenge. "Like what?"
He raised his eyebrows, leaning back in his chair. "I don't know. Maybe a little hike along the river, clear our heads a bit."
"A hike?" Rose repeated, unable to keep the surprise from her voice.
Jack shrugged nonchalantly. "Unless you're too tired, of course. I wouldn't blame you."
Rose's competitive streak sparked, and she straightened, squaring her shoulders. "Oh, I'm not too tired. I can keep up with you just fine."
Sarah chuckled, glancing between the two of them. "Well, it sounds like you two have your day sorted, then. I just hope you don't come back looking as miserable as you do now."
Jack grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "No promises, Sarah."
Rose finished the last of her coffee, trying to ignore the strange mix of excitement and anticipation building in her chest. She'd never been one for long hikes, but something about Jack's challenge made her feel a thrill she hadn't expected.
"Let's see if you're as good on the trail as you are on the dance floor," she murmured, standing up.
Jack's eyes met hers, a silent, amused acknowledgment passing between them. "Oh, you're in for a challenge, Miss Williams."
They walked along the path, falling into a comfortable rhythm, the only sounds around them the crunch of gravel beneath their feet and the soft, constant rush of the river nearby. As they crested a small hill, Jack stopped, gazing out toward the distant horizon.
"There it is," he said, pointing. "Lake Wissota."
Rose looked where he pointed, and her breath hitched. The lake stretched vast and calm before them, its surface glistening under the afternoon sun. The wide, open water filled her with a familiar unease she couldn't entirely hide. The last time she'd seen water this endless and daunting, she'd been on the Atlantic.
Jack turned to her, catching the shadow that passed over her face. "Not a fan of the lake?" he asked with a smile, though his eyes carried a hint of curiosity, noticing her tension.
Rose forced a small smile, gripping the edge of her blouse. "It's… very beautiful," she said, though her voice was faint, almost as if she were trying to convince herself of the words.
"It is, isn't it. We always go their for a swim during the summer and have a large picnic." His eyes were locked on the slow moving water in front of them, "Yet, it's strange how something so peaceful can also feel a little… I don't know, eerie, sometimes."
She nodded, grateful he didn't press her. "Yes, I suppose it can." She turned to him with a touch more strength in her voice. "Do you come here often?"
He shrugged. "Sometimes, when I want to clear my head. Not too many people around, and the air's good out here."
They stood in silence, both staring out over the wide water. The memories that came with the sight of it were too heavy to put into words. She tried to steady herself, tried to let the peacefulness of the scene sink in, to see it as simply a lake and nothing more. But she couldn't shake the feeling of an old fear creeping up her spine.
"Maureen and I used to come here a lot as kids," he said, a faint smile playing on his lips. "She was my best friend—closer to me than anyone else in the world back then."
Rose glanced at him, catching the tenderness in his voice, and she slowed her steps, listening.
"We'd come out here and dare each other to do all sorts of wild things. I remember she once tried to teach me to wade out and 'walk on water,'" he chuckled. "I must've been five or six, and she was convinced that if you believed in something hard enough, you could make it happen."
He shook his head, amused at the memory, but there was a sadness there too. "She was something else. No one could ever talk her out of an idea she had."
Rose listened quietly, hearing the weight of each word, and feeling his pain, though he tried to hide it. "She sounds like someone special," she said softly.
"Maureen was… brave," Jack continued, his voice lower now. "She faced so much of her life alone, holding a part of herself back. She didn't even tell me at first—she didn't tell anyone. But once I knew, it was like… I finally understood why she always seemed to have this weight on her shoulders."
Rose bit her lips as she thought of their shared friend. Their separate bonds with her, Rose's still kept a secret. Jack's words whirled through her mind. Was she something missing? Was there something she still did not know about the woman who had changed her life, who had saved it. "Tell… Tell you what?" The words barely came out.
"You see, Rose," Jack lit a cigarette and blew out a big gush of smoke, "You might not agree with it, but we don't get to choose who we are and especially not whom we fall in love with. Maureen, she hated it about herself, but it was just the way she was. She fell in love with a woman. They managed to keep it hidden until someone found out and send her a letter, threatening her to leave or they would reveal her secret. So that is what she did. We still don't know who sent it."
Rose looked at Jack, her eyes wide as she took in what he was saying. "Someone… someone threatened her?" she whispered, barely able to comprehend it.
Jack nodded, his gaze fixed somewhere in the distance, his jaw clenched. "Yeah. Whoever it was knew they had power over her—knew that staying would be dangerous, not just for her, but for her family. She couldn't risk it. So, she left. England was supposed to be a fresh start for her, a place where she could just start over."
Rose felt a chill pass through her, despite the warmth of the day. It was hard to imagine anyone hurting Maureen that way, someone so gentle yet strong, so full of life. "You must have missed her a lot."
"Every day," Jack said quietly, his voice rough. "Maureen was like family. We grew up together, and we always had each other's backs. I couldn't help but wonder if I should've done something, if I could've protected her somehow. But by the time I knew what was happening, it was too late."
Rose's heart twisted at the sadness in his voice, and she wished she could say something to comfort him. She reached out, placing her hand gently on his arm. "She was lucky to have someone like you looking out for her, Jack. I'm sure she knew how much you cared."
Jack looked down at her hand on his arm, then back up to meet her gaze. "It's strange," he murmured, "talking about her with someone who didn't know her. I thought it would feel harder, but… somehow it's like I can finally put it to rest. Like she's still here, somehow, in the memories."
Rose didn't know and would have never known if Jack hadn't told her. Guilt crept within her and she wanted to fall down her knees and scream at the sky. Was she there, was she seeing them in this moment of vulnerability? A man and a woman silently grieving the loss of their friend. Nonetheless, Rose remained silent.
The air felt thick between them, charged with something neither of them could quite name. The moment seemed to stretch, timeless and fragile. Then Jack broke the silence with a quiet, almost wistful laugh. "We should head back," he said, his voice steadier now, though his gaze lingered on her face. "Sarah will start worrying, and Evelyn will probably be getting up to trouble by now."
Rose nodded, the spell broken, but a warmth lingering. "Yes. We wouldn't want that."
As they reached the bend in the path that led back toward the house, Jack spoke again, this time more lightly. "You know, I think she would've liked you," he said, a teasing gleam in his eyes. "She'd probably tell me I wasn't keeping up with you. She was always good at calling me out."
Rose smiled, her heart lifting. "She sounds like she had a good head on her shoulders."
The days grew warmer, stretching longer into evenings where the golden light seemed to cling to the hills and fields. Rose found herself caught in a tangled mess of emotions, none of which she dared voice, even to herself. It was as if she were in the middle of a tug-of-war, with one side pulling her toward the safety of distance, and the other drawing her closer to a man she had once convinced herself to despise.
Every day seemed to bring new moments where her resolve wavered. When she caught sight of Jack in the fields, sleeves rolled up, working alongside Mark as he laughed easily about something. Or in the evenings, when he'd sit on the porch steps with a cigarette, eyes wandering over the same familiar landscape she'd known all her life but seeing it, she was certain, in a way she never had. Sometimes their eyes would meet by chance, and Rose would feel her pulse race as if he could read her thoughts.
One afternoon, as she was hanging up the laundry, she saw him leading one of the horses to the stable. She paused, the clean sheet half-pinned to the line, her gaze lingering on him as he moved with an ease and familiarity that somehow made him seem both part of this place and apart from it. He glanced over and caught her staring; her cheeks flushed as she quickly turned her attention back to the laundry, hoping he hadn't seen too much.
But later that evening, when Sarah was setting the table, she caught Rose glancing toward the door, watching as Jack wandered in from outside.
"You've been awfully quiet lately," Sarah said, studying Rose with a look that seemed far too perceptive.
Rose forced a smile. "Just… thinking, I suppose."
"Oh, thinking," Sarah said, a seemingly knowing smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "That's dangerous business, you know." She turned back to the table, but her expression lingered in Rose's mind, unsettling her.
As the days slipped by, she felt as though her heart was on a thin, precarious thread. One part of her wanted to run from this—this pull she couldn't deny, the glances, the quiet moments they shared when no one else was around. But another part wanted to stay, to linger in this warmth she'd felt growing since that day along the river, when he'd opened up about Maureen and their past. She longed to trust him with her own secrets, the ones she kept buried so deeply that even she rarely visited them. But the past was tangled and painful, and she feared that even a hint of it might ruin everything.
Even in the small kitchen filled with drying herbs, as Mrs. Turner carefully unwound the bandage from Rose's hand, Rose could feel Jack's eyes on her from where he stood in the corner of the kitchen. His presence was subtle but unmistakable; even though he was quiet, the warmth of his gaze seemed to fill the room. She did her best to ignore the quickening of her heart, determined to keep her focus on Mrs. Turner's gentle, wrinkled hands working at her own.
"Almost healed," Mrs. Turner said, her tone approving as she examined Rose's hand. "You'll have a scar or two, but it'll be faint in time."
Rose nodded, murmuring her thanks, all the while feeling Jack's quiet attention lingering like a soft weight on her shoulders. She stole a quick glance in his direction, catching his expression—a subtle mix of interest and concern, his face softened by a quiet intensity that made her feel as if he could see right through her.
"Well, dear," Mrs. Turner said, patting Rose's hand gently, "you take care now, and try not to go breaking any more glass." She laughed kindly, oblivious to the unspoken tension between Rose and Jack, which seemed to thrum just beneath the surface.
"Thank you, Mrs. Turner," Rose replied, pulling her hand back and standing, giving her an appreciative smile.
Jack stepped forward, clearing his throat. "Thank you, Mrs. Turner," he added, his voice gentle as he nodded to the elderly woman.
The two walked in silence as they left the house and made their way down the winding path back home. The summer sun was low, casting long shadows over the fields, and the air was thick with the scent of wildflowers and the lingering warmth of the day.
Finally, Jack spoke. "Your hand seems to have healed nicely," he said, glancing over at her.
"Yes," Rose said, looking down at her gloved hand. "It'll take time to feel completely normal, I suppose, but… I'm glad it's finally free."
They walked on, the silence between them feeling heavier with each step. Rose wanted to say something, anything, to fill the space between them, but her thoughts kept colliding—confused and uncertain, much like her feelings for him.
"You don't have to keep coming with me, you know," she said softly, more to herself than to him.
Jack glanced over at her, his brows lifting slightly. "Maybe not," he said, his voice low, almost a murmur. "But I wanted to."
They continued in silence again, Rose's heart racing at his words. She felt torn between wanting to understand his meaning and fearing what that understanding might bring. She wrapped her arms around herself as a breeze picked up, trying to quell the flurry of emotions that had stirred in her since she'd met him.
When they reached a turn in the path where they could see the farmhouse in the distance, Jack paused, stopping her with a gentle hand on her arm.
"Rose," he said, his voice quiet but filled with something she couldn't quite place. She looked up at him, searching his face for some sign of what he was about to say. He seemed to hesitate, as if weighing his words, before he continued. "It's getting harder to pretend like this isn't happening."
Rose's heart skipped a beat, but she didn't respond. She didn't know how to. Instead, she took a slow breath, trying to steady herself. The tension between them was suffocating, and yet there was something intoxicating about it too, something that drew her closer even though she wanted to resist. Jack turned to face her, his gaze steady but uncertain. His usual confidence was gone, replaced by something more vulnerable. He opened his mouth to say something else but hesitated, as if searching for the right words.
But there were no words. Rose felt it too—this silent tug between them, this feeling that had been growing stronger with each passing day. She wasn't ready to name it, didn't even want to. But it was there, undeniable, and she was tired of pretending otherwise. Before she could stop herself, she stepped forward, closing the distance between them. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears as she came to stand just inches away from him. Jack's breath hitched slightly, his eyes flickering over her face as if searching for permission.
Neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke. The only sound was the faint rustling of the wind in the trees. Rose could feel her pulse pounding in her throat, her entire body alive with a tension that had been building for far too long. And then, without thinking, she reached up and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him down toward her. Their lips met in a rush of desperation and uncertainty, a clash of all the emotions they had been keeping at bay. The kiss was urgent, messy, filled with all the unspoken feelings neither of them had been able to voice.
Jack responded instantly, his hands finding her waist, pulling her closer as if he'd been waiting for this moment as long as she had. The kiss deepened, their breath mingling, and Rose felt something inside her snap, as though the last wall she had built around herself had crumbled.
Her fingers curled into his shirt, and Jack's hands tightened around her, his touch firm but cautious, as if he were afraid of pushing too far. But it wasn't enough. Rose leaned into him, the kiss growing more heated, more consuming. Every nerve in her body felt alive, burning with a need she hadn't allowed herself to feel until now.
But just as quickly as it had started, reality came crashing back. Rose pulled away suddenly, her breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. She stepped back, her mind reeling, heart pounding in her chest as the weight of what had just happened sank in. Jack looked at her, his expression a mixture of confusion and frustration. He took a step forward as if to reach for her again, but she held up a hand, stopping him.
"I…" Rose's voice was shaky, her thoughts scrambling for some kind of explanation. But what could she say? She wasn't even sure what had just happened herself.
Jack stood there, his hands hanging at his sides, tension radiating off him in waves. He said nothing, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath, eyes locked on hers.
"I can't—" Rose's voice broke, and she shook her head, backing away further. She couldn't finish the sentence because she didn't know how it ended. She didn't know what she wanted, what this meant.
Jack's jaw tightened, but he didn't move, didn't push her. "Rose…"
The sound of her name on his lips sent a shiver down her spine, but she couldn't stay. She couldn't be near him right now, not with the way her body was trembling, not with the whirlwind of feelings she had been trying so hard to ignore.
Without another word, she turned and hurried toward the house, her heart hammering against her ribs.