the mark—again.
“I don’t read my Bible.”
She’d hoped, in marrying a man active in their church, that their faith would eventually bring them together. Apparently, even that hope was to be dashed.
“Why not?”
Jasper shrugged. “I learn plenty from Pastor Lassiter’s sermons. I know enough about God that I don’t need to keep studying. After all, I’ve been attending church since I was a child.”
Jasper might have grown up wealthy, but as Emma Jane recalled his mother’s words earlier about giving money to the church in lieu of helping out, she wondered if he might have grown up poor indeed.
“But Pastor Lassiter talks about the importance of reading God’s Word.”
Jasper shrugged. “And he reads it to us every Sunday. Why should I do more?”
“Because it deepens your relationship with the Lord.”
He looked thoughtful for a moment. “I suppose that’s why you always made such insightful comments in Sunday school. How often do you read your Bible?”
“Every day.” Emma Jane hoped her words didn’t sound too prideful. When she’d made a similar comment to one of the girls at church, she’d chastised Emma Jane for being too full of herself.
Jasper didn’t say anything for a long while, and as the silence began to grow uncomfortable, Emma Jane wondered what she could say that wouldn’t cause more strife between them.
Fortunately, Jasper’s stomach rumbled loudly, and it sent Emma Jane into motion.
“I just realized, the staff has all gone to bed, but if you’re hungry, or you want some tea, I could get you something.”
Finally. A small smile teased the corners of Jasper’s lips. “Mother will be furious if she finds you in the kitchen.” Then, in a mocking voice, he said, “Don’t you know that is what the help is for? We do not belong in their domain, just as they do not belong in ours.”
Emma Jane giggled. “That sounds exactly like her.”
“I’ve heard it my whole life.” Jasper yawned at the same time his stomach rumbled again.
“It would be no trouble to get you a sandwich. I spent all night working the night of the brothel fire to make sure everyone was taken care of. Cook and I became friends of sorts, and I think she’ll be happy if I get you something without disturbing her.”
Jasper sat up slightly. “I didn’t realize you spent so much time helping that night.”
“Of course. I couldn’t sleep, knowing that you, Will and Mary were confronting a dangerous situation. Then, when Mary and Rose came here, telling us of the fire, I had to do what I could. Rose was with the doctor, and poor Mary was exhausted and famished. I had to make sure she had something, and then, with you and Will still out there, I knew that you’d need something, as well. I didn’t sleep at all that night.”
And then Jasper had been too busy talking to the authorities to talk to her. The only reason Emma Jane even knew the full story of what had happened in the brothel was because Mary had told her. Though that fact hurt, what wounded her even more was the surprised expression on Jasper’s face. True, he had been too busy to notice Emma Jane’s contributions, but the fact that it didn’t occur to him that she’d want to help, well, that seemed like a far greater sin than Jasper’s abandonment.
That was the trouble with marrying someone you barely knew. Jasper didn’t know that for someone like Emma Jane, the easiest thing to do was to step in and work, because when you worked, you didn’t have to talk. Because talking meant that people would notice her and make fun of her. No one ever seemed to pay any mind to the workers. Probably why Jasper had never noticed her, either.
“I’m sorry I never thanked you for your help,” he said huskily.
“It was a busy night. Your mother rushed you into bed and had the doctor in there with you so quickly, I’m sure there were a lot of things you didn’t notice.”
The weariness on Jasper’s face seemed to increase as the lamp flickered beside him. She hated continuing to make him talk, but they seemed to almost be getting along. Could they regain ground as friends?
“I think Pastor Lassiter has a point about us needing time together to get to know each other. I don’t understand what’s fueling your need to help this Daisy person, and you don’t understand anything about me.” Emma Jane pulled her shawl tighter around her. “Why don’t I get you something to eat, and when I get back, you can tell me something you think I should know about you.”
At least, with Jasper leading the conversation, it would keep her from making any more missteps that would drive them apart.
Hesitating before heading for the door, she watched the play of emotions on her husband’s face. Could he see that she was offering him an olive branch? A chance to begin their marriage as it should have been? Asking him to love her was too much—Emma Jane knew that—but surely peaceful coexistence wasn’t so far out of their reach.
After what seemed like ages, Jasper’s lips turned upward into the grin that was rumored to melt every woman’s heart this side of the Divide. Emma Jane had never been one of the girls to giggle and swoon over Jasper’s famed good looks, but if he gave her many grins like that, she could easily find herself wanting to. However, a man’s appearance faded over time, and Emma Jane hoped that what she found beneath was the same man she’d grown to like at the church picnic.
“All right. Don’t put any pickles on my sandwich. Mother seems to think they’re my favorite, but I really can’t stand her pickles.” He gave her a wink, then settled back into her chair.
No pickles. The simple request seemed to be the beginning of a friendship as Emma Jane went downstairs to the kitchen. There, she found Cook already at the stove, busying herself with the kettle.
“What are you doing up?” Emma Jane crossed the room and reached for a mug. Though Mrs. Jackson would probably disapprove of Jasper not being served on fine china, the mugs held more, and he seemed like he could use a larger cup of tea.
“I heard Mr. Jasper come home. He doesn’t take good care of himself, so I thought I’d prepare some food for him.”
In her short time at the Jackson mansion, Emma Jane had learned that everything was about catering to Jasper—when it wasn’t about Mrs. Jackson, of course. But his mother’s primary concern, other than reputation, was making sure that Jasper never wanted for anything.
“I should have known. I came down to do the very thing myself.”
Cook pointed to a plate on the table. “Sandwiches for Mr. Jasper, just the way he likes.”
Emma Jane couldn’t help but notice the pickle hanging out the sides. She went over and removed it.
“What are you doing with Mrs. Jackson’s prized pickles? Those are Mr. Jasper’s favorite.”
“When I asked him what he’d like, he mentioned that he’d prefer not to have pickles.” Emma Jane hesitated, wondering if she should share his secret.
Cook nodded slowly. “I wondered who’d been leaving pickles in strange places in the dining room. Poor Mr. Jasper probably didn’t want to hurt his mother’s feelings. Mrs. Jackson prides herself on those pickles, though I don’t know a single soul who can tolerate them. I’ll keep that in mind for the future.”
It was a simple conversation about pickles, but it told something about Jasper’s character that Emma Jane hadn’t been expecting. As much as he played the role of a carefree playboy, Jasper’s compassion ran deep. Rather than hurt his mother’s feelings, he’d gone along with the charade of liking her pickles.
As Emma Jane finished preparing Jasper’s tea, she thought more about Jasper’s compassion. At the church picnic, when everyone else mocked Emma Jane’s