First love, p.11
First Love, page 11
Finally, Beatrice returned for her.
“Helen, don’t you dare miss my big moment.”
“Of course not,” she answered as her cousin pulled her from the seat.
James stood in the door blocking their exit. Looking from Helen to Beatrice, he mumbled “There you are.”
“Here I am,” Beatrice cooed.
“I was hoping to talk to you in private for a moment.”
“If you’ll excuse me,” Helen said edging toward the door.
“No,” Beatrice grasped her arm.
Helen looked back in confusion.
“I mean, it would be inappropriate for me to be alone with you. Helen may hear anything you must say to me.”
“All right.” He sighed entering the room to stand behind a chair. “As I’m sure you are aware, my grandfather and your father are expecting a match between us. I have not spoken with your father because I wanted to speak with you first.”
Helen looked up again as her brother moved into the room. She hadn’t noticed him standing behind James. It was already difficult for her to keep her emotions in check. Jack’s presence disturbed her because he was far too astute. She didn't want her brother witnessing her humiliation. She moved in front of the window to give her cousin some small measure of privacy. Her stance would also keep her back to the others so they would not notice her turmoil.
“Do you want to marry me?” James asked Beatrice.
“Of course.” She giggled.
“Why?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why do you want to marry me?”
“Well,” she stammered before repeating Helen’s words. “You are a good and decent man who works hard and cares for others.”
“Thank you,” he replied. “Do you want to know why I would want to marry you?”
“Oh.” Beatrice giggled again. “I know why.”
“You do?”
“Of course. Everyone says how beautiful I am and what a good-looking couple we’ll make.”
There was a drawn-out moment of silence in which Helen could barely stand to stare anywhere but out the window and wait for the next painful scene to pass.
“Well, if we are to marry,” James said softly, “perhaps a kiss?”
“Umm… all right, but just one,” Beatrice stammered.
Tears flowed freely from Helen’s eyes now as she waited with bated breath for the horrible sound of the kiss sealing her fate.
“James?” Jack called.
Had they kissed and she missed it? Or had Jack interrupted them? Did it matter? They would kiss eventually and probably often.
“Yes, Jack?” James sounded frustrated.
“Before you kiss the intended or announce anything, there are a few things you should know.”
“Jack, I asked you not to interfere in this.”
“I know, but as your business partner and more importantly as your best friend, it’s my duty.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Helen.”
She flinched when Jack laid a hand on her shoulder.
“Will you please turn and look at James?”
She shook her head.
“Helen,” he persisted.
“Please,” she finally whispered.
“Helen, look at James and tell him how happy you are for him and Beatrice.”
There was no way out. Her shame would be complete. Without even trying to wipe her face clean, she turned to look at James. His eyes widened when they took in her pink, puffy, and tear-stained face.
“Helen, you are truly ill. Please, sit.” He made to move to her side, but visibly restrained himself.
I’ve made things irrevocably awkward between us.
“Tell him how happy you are,” Jack repeated.
“I hope you will both be deliriously happy together. I pray you are not only content but can count yourself fortunate in years to come.”
“Thank you.” James said as if choking past something.
“The truth...” Jack demanded.
“That is the truth,” she finally said, looking at Jack and allowing all the pain to show.
“I know, but I meant the rest.”
Helen stared at Jack in dismay. How did he know what she felt? Because my brother knows me better than I know myself. But surely, he did not mean for her to admit her true feelings. What was his purpose?
“Tell him.”
She clamped her mouth shut and pleaded with her eyes. Jack shook his head.
“I’ll tell him myself if I have to.” When she remained silent, he continued, “James, Helen found some letters about you.”
“No,” she shouted, her eyes going wide. How could Jack possibly know about those?
“Helen?” James asked.
She looked back at James. “I have no letters.”
“You did,” Jack said and when she made to argue he whispered, “I heard you reading them to Beatrice. James already knows about his father. He told me in confidence years ago when his father died.”
Helen could only stare at Jack.
“Helen?” James asked again.
“There are no letters,” she repeated.
“Jack, what’s this all about?”
“Helen found some letters about your family’s past. They were quite detailed and vivid descriptions of your father’s relationship with a young woman, your real birth certificate, and her death certificate. She has a chance to share the news with her paper. If she doesn’t, I believe she will be fired for refusing the story.”
“Is this true?” James asked.
“Yes,” Helen said looking back to him.
He looked crestfallen. She ached to rush to his side, to comfort and console. She restrained herself.
“I see. When do you intend to run the story?”
She froze. He hated her. He hated her for her job, for her knowledge of his family, and now for her ability to now ruin his chances with Beatrice. She could not speak.
Jack came to her rescue. “After sharing the knowledge with Beatrice, she destroyed the letters in that fire.”
James’s eyes widened and he turned to the ashes in the fireplace. Helen glanced at Jack.
“If you knew I destroyed the evidence, why would you tell him? Why make him go through that?”
“Just because you can overlook his background doesn’t mean everyone else will.”
“I won’t tell anyone. I swear.”
“You told our cousin,” Jack said.
“I had to. She needs to know.”
“Why?”
“If anyone else knows, or has other proof, they might try to contact her or manipulate James. She needs to be ready to protect him.”
“I didn’t know I would be forced to protect him,” Beatrice whined. “I thought no one else would find out.”
Jack rolled his eyes before smiling at Helen and turning to James. “Do you understand now?”
James nodded before turning back to Helen. “Thank you for destroying the letters. I know what a story like that could mean to your career. Thank you also for showing me why I can’t marry your cousin.”
“What?” both she and Beatrice gasped.
James turned to Beatrice. “Now that you know about my past and what my future may hold, do you really want to marry me?”
Beatrice stood silent.
“I didn’t think so. If you’ll excuse me, I have guests to see to.” He bowed to Beatrice and Helen before leaving.
Helen stared at the empty doorway, trying to reconcile the events of this evening.
“Beatrice, I hope you know better than to go spreading gossip. I trust you won’t repeat any of this to anyone?” Jack asked.
“No one would believe me anyway, and I’m just glad I won’t have to live with it all. To think, I could have been stuck living with a fake.”
Jack tightened his grip on Helen’s arm briefly before letting out a long sigh. “Helen, I’ll take you home whenever you are ready.”
“Thank you. I’ll need a few moments to offer my resignation before we leave.”
* * *
Helen couldn’t sleep after returning from the masquerade. At dawn she abandoned her bed and attempted a dozen mundane tasks in an unsuccessful effort to drive her mind away from replaying the emotional scenes from the night before. Pricking her finger for what seemed the hundredth time that day, Helen frowned down at the offending project. Now that her career was over, she supposed her future was as bleak as the poor tapestry she struggled with now. The memory of her refusal to spy, Mr. Newhouse’s face turning purple, the spittle gathering at the sides of his mouth, and the eventual charge that he’d make sure she never worked in print again kept replaying.
They were right. I had no business pursuing a career in journalism.
Throwing down her sewing, she crossed the room to the trunk in the corner. She knelt, lifted the lid, and pulled out the top stack of papers. Helen stared at the cover page.
“Don’t do it,”
She jumped. “Jack, you have no idea…”
“You’re thinking of throwing those into the fire as well.”
She thought briefly of arguing but shrugged instead before returning her stories to the trunk. “It seems everyone knows me better than I know myself.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, you all knew I couldn’t be a journalist. And you, you knew how I really felt about James even when I didn’t. Am I really so ignorant of all things?”
Jack crossed the room, pulled her to her feet, and embraced her tightly. His chin rested on her head, and she let herself sag against him, drawing strength from this beloved brother.
“Helen, we all knew you wouldn’t be happy as a journalist because your heart is too big. Despite your temper, you could never shut off your emotions long enough to do everything your editors would ask of you. Besides, you don’t have to be a journalist to be a writer.”
“Thank you, I think.”
“As for James, a big brother notices things others cannot. People usually don’t see their own paths clearly.”
“I wish you could tell me mine now. What do I do now that my whole life seems to be changing?”
“You make a new life.”
She sighed. “If only it were that easy.”
“If it were easy, you wouldn’t value it as much.”
A knock sounded at the parlor door.
“Miss Barnes, Mr. Newhouse is here to see you.” Meg, their housekeeper, announced
Helen released her hold on Jack. “What could he possibly have left to say to me after last night?”
“Do you want me to throw him out?”
“No, Jack, but I would appreciate you staying with me to meet him. Meg, you may show him in.”
Helen waited near the sofa, and Jack moved to the far wall looking more like a sentry than the loving and supportive brother of a moment before.
Mr. Newhouse entered, barely acknowledging Jack before he fell to his knees at her feet. “Miss Barnes, I truly hope you can accept my apology. I was quite overcome last night and had no right to speak to you out of turn.”
“Mr. Newhouse?”
“Yes, you see, I had no idea.”
“No idea about what, sir?”
“Why, no idea Mr. Winthrope was buying the paper, and you had a partnership with him.”
Helen’s head fairly swam with confusion. “Sir, I think one of us must be a bit addled.”
“Just so, and I’ve come to beg your forgiveness. Mr. Winthrope is even now signing the deed of ownership on the newspaper. He has explained to me he planned to replace me… that someone else was to be editor. However, he says I may submit my application to you.”
“To me?”
“Yes,”
Jack’s laughter rang out, startling Mr. Newhouse and confusing Helen further. Before she could question him, however, Meg was at the door again.
“Mr. and Miss Barnes, Mr. Winthrope is here.”
“By all means, Meg, show him in,” Jack beamed. “Mr. Newhouse, I believe you should give my sister time to consider your request before she makes too hasty a judgment.”
“Of course,” Newhouse stammered rising to his feet. “You may send for me at your convenience.”
He was bowing his goodbye when James entered the room setting her senses into chaos.
“I’ll see you out, Mr. Newhouse. James.” Jack nodded in passing.
“Jack, Mr. Newhouse,” James acknowledged never taking his eyes from her.
The door closed leaving Helen in a bittersweet world alone with James. After a few shaky breaths and false starts Helen finally managed, “I seem to be a bit confused.”
“I hope I may help.”
An unclear longing ached from within. “I’m fairly certain I either resigned, or was fired, in a quite public manner last night. However, Mr. Newhouse now informs me you have purchased the newspaper, and he seems to be under the impression I have some say in his employ?”
“I had hoped to speak with you before he did, but business this morning took longer than I expected. Yes, I bought the rights to the newspaper. I thought since you knew so much about it, since it has meant so very much to you, that you might help me in the running of it?” His fingers tightened and rolled the brim of the hat he held in his hands.
“Why?”
“What do you mean why?”
“I mean, why me? You’ve always said I had no business being a journalist.”
His face seemed to take on a green hue. He swallowed hard. James rocked from foot to foot for a moment. He finally took one step forward.
“I know you feel I’ve been unfair to you, and perhaps, in some cases, you are right. However, what you did for me last night… What you were willing to give up… I mean, not even the woman I thought to marry would have been willing to offer so much.”
“Please don’t be so hard on Bea. She didn’t understand. She had just found out. I’m sure with time she…”
“You didn’t need time.” He took another step forward. “You had only discovered the truth moments before her. In that short span of time, you thought to protect me, and to aid your cousin as well. You were even willing to give up everything you wanted for yourself to do so. Why?”
Helen swallowed hard and fought to keep from going weak in the knees. The intensity of the situation was almost more than she could bear. “You give me too much credit. I only did what was right.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes, what else is there?”
“I thought, that is, I hoped there might be something more.”
“Something more?”
“Yes.” His laugh seemed forced. “Thinking everything through last night, I came to hope you might have feelings for me.”
Helen couldn’t speak or move. He hoped I had feelings. She had thought he would no longer want to associate with her.
“Silly, I know now,” he said taking another step toward her. “I mean, why would someone like you love someone like me? Just because I’ve been in love with my best friend’s sister for the last two years…”
“Love?” Helen wondered if her heart might melt.
Again, James took a step closer. “I know how you feel about your career. You were willing to give it up for me, so I bought the paper. No matter what happens between us, I want you to still have that.”
“Us?”
James took one last step, closing the distance between them. His hand rose to wipe a stray tear from her cheek. “I’ve been an idiot. I convinced myself since you were Jack’s sister, you were off limits. Then, when you became so obsessed with the newspaper, I thought you had no interest in marriage or someday starting a family. It made me angry, but I had no right to say anything. Helen, I love you. I’ve been in love with you for two years, and I promise to be whatever you need from me. Whether it’s your friend, your business partner, or just your brother’s friend that you see from time to time, I promise to abide by your wishes and allow you the freedom to pursue your career.”
His hand lingered at her cheek, and she leaned into it briefly savoring the warmth and allowing her eyes to drift closed. When she opened them again, she imagined he had leaned a bit closer to steal a kiss and she blushed at the thought.
“Helen?” he whispered hoarsely.
“What…what if none of those positions seems right?”
His hand dropped to his side, and he took a step back. “I meant it. I promise to abide by your wishes. The newspaper staff can continue the business with little interference from me. Now that you are a full partner, we can trade correspondence through a secretary, when necessary, but I trust you to make most decisions. I only ask you keep me apprised of any changes, or concerns, and allow me to help if needed. The paperwork should be here later today. Please, take all the time you need to consider the partnership.”
“Wait.” She grabbed his hand when it seemed he would turn to leave.
He stared at her hand on his.
“I would like to start again as friends.”
Lifting a brow, he nodded.
“And I hope…” she continued, “very much…that we might actually be more?”
His eyes found hers, and he smiled. “Helen, you already mean so much more to me than anything else.”
“As you do to me. I love you, James Winthrope.”
“I love you,” he whispered lowering his head to seal their partnership with a kiss.
The End
Sylvia Ney is a freelance writer, editor, and teacher. She serves as an Adjunct Professor for the University of Texas at Austin as well as a High School English teacher.
She has published newspaper and magazine articles, photography, poetry, and short stories. Sylvia has served as a Board Member of both the Texas Gulf Coast Writers and Bayou Writers Group in Louisiana since 2012. She enjoys encouraging other writers.
Originally from California, Sylvia now resides in southeast Texas with her husband, two daughters and miniature dachshund.
https://www.sylviacney.com/
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