"I'm sorry I didn't stand up to him, Jessie. But by that time, you were following him everywhere and it didn't seem to matter to you, anyway."
Jessie couldn't meet her eyes and she, too, looked into the fire.
"I don't have any memories of you ever doing anything with me. Was that the last time?"
"Oh, yes," Annie nodded. "After that, he started getting you ready for school, tucking you in at night and taking you with him every chance he got. I was here to cook and clean and do laundry. It was around that time that we stopped sleeping together and he moved into the spare room."
"He had... other lovers?"
"He had women, yes. But it wasn't like we had been intimate, Jessie. We hadn't... slept together in years."
Annie got up suddenly and went into the kitchen. She'd had enough talk of Jack for the moment and she found it very uncomfortable talking this way in front of Jessie, who was practically a stranger to her. She could confide in Chris without worrying about her reaction. But Annie wondered if Jessie, subconsciously or on some deep level, might believe she was lying about Jack. He was dead and his story buried with him.
"Annie?" Jessie followed her into the kitchen and she watched now as Annie's trembling hand poured more wine.
"I just needed to check on the bread," she lied.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to come here and talk about him, really," Jessie said.
"Yes, you did, Jessie. We need to talk about him. He's all we have between us," Annie said. "And you probably think I'm lying about all of this. To you, he was a wonderful man. Unfortunately, I never got to see that side of him." She turned and lifted the lid on the pot and stirred. "Well, I shouldn't say never. He was very nice to me when we were courting and when we first got married. But that was so long ago, Jessie."
"Why didn't you ever talk to me about all of this?"
"Oh, Jessie, you were too young at the beginning to understand. Then, later, well, you idolized your father. There was nothing I could say then. You would never have believed me."
"Why did you stay with him? Why didn't you leave?"
Annie turned and met her eyes. They were open and trusting, so she let the words come.
"I was afraid... for you," she said quietly.
"For me?"
"Jack had an unnatural interest in you, Jessie. And as you got older, I was so afraid he would... abuse you."
"Sexually?" Jessie whispered.
"Yes. And I couldn't leave you. I didn't know if you would come to me for help, but if you needed someone, who else would you go to?"
Jessie felt her eyes prick with tears and she tried to blink them back, but they came anyway. Annie had been here for her and Jessie never knew it. Sobs shook her shoulders as she remembered his words. "It'll be our little secret. You’re my best girl."
"What is it, child?" Annie walked to her and grabbed her shoulders. "What?"
"He did," Jessie stammered between her tears.
"He did what?"
"He..."
Annie stared at her, realization dawning of what she was trying to say.
"Oh, no, Jessie," Annie whispered. She took the crying woman into her arms, the woman who was her daughter, and held her. "Oh, no."
Jessie leaned into the comfort of her arms, then just as quickly pulled away. She wiped at the tears on her face, unable to meet Annie's eyes. She had to finish. If she didn't get it out now, then when?
"I blamed you," she said. "Jack said you weren't there for him and I believed him. And I resented you for what he was doing to me but, I couldn't make him stop. And so I just blocked it out. And when he died, I had to get away from you, from here. I hated you so much," she whispered. "So I ran. I ran from my life here and I buried all of that away and pretended that it never happened. And then it didn't happen. I didn't remember it anymore. I was ten," she said. "That's the last time I remember being a kid. After that..."
Annie tried to hold her tears back, but she couldn't. That bastard! She tried to reach out to Jessie, but Jessie moved away.
"No. Let me finish," she said. "I need to finish."
Annie nodded, unable to speak.
"I was never able to let anyone get close to me. I didn't have friends. Even in college, I was always alone. And sex became a game to me. It wasn't for pleasure, not mine or theirs. It was an act performed as some sort of ritual, I think. Over the years, it became that, anyway. But I didn't really know why. I started seeing a therapist after college and that's when I realized that I couldn't remember anything anymore. All I held on to was my hate and resentment for you. And the only reason I could come up with was that I blamed you for his death. I always had my memories of my childhood and they were happy and he was there. But you never were. I've seen six or seven therapists over the years and none of them could help me. When Dr. Davies suggested I come back here and see you and maybe find answers, I couldn't deny that I wanted to come back. I so badly wanted my life back.
"I met Chris out on Ridge Trail. We became... friends. She knew that I couldn't remember. She said some things about you, told me some things that you had told her, and bits and pieces started coming back. But Annie, I didn't want them to come back. Not when I realized what it might be. But they came and I remembered everything and I just wanted... to die."
"Jessie ..."
"And when I remembered, I couldn't stay here another minute. I had to get away."
Annie didn't know what to say, so she said nothing. She just watched this woman with tears in her eyes stare back at her.
"I spent two weeks alone in my apartment. I went back over everything and I realized that I wasn't to blame and you weren't to blame. It was just him," she said quietly. "And so I had to come back to see you. To tell you why I left all those years ago."
When Annie reached out this time, Jessie didn't pull away. She cleared her throat before speaking, hoping her voice would follow.
"I'm so, so sorry. I should have realized. Maybe deep down, I..."
"No. You can't blame yourself. It was him, not you."
"Now what do we do?"
"I don't know. I honestly don't know," Jessie said. "Is it too late to start over?"
"Of course not. You can stay here with me," she said without thinking.
But Jessie shook her head.
"I don't think so, Annie. Neither of us are ready for that. I've got a cabin rented until mid-December."
"Mary Ruth's?"
"Yes."
"Is it close to Chris?"
"Yes."
"Good. She can be a good friend, Jessie. She has been to me."
"I know. I probably wouldn't be here today if I'd never met her," Jessie admitted. But she didn't know if Chris wanted to be a friend to her anymore.
"She came back here yesterday, after she took you home," Annie said. "She was worried about me."
Jessie nodded. "I thought she might."
"She told me a little about your time here in August. I think she's worried about you, too."
Jessie nodded. Maybe.
"I've had about enough for one day, Jessie. How about lunch?"
"Yes." Jessie, too, felt drained. And relieved. She had been preparing herself for this day for nearly two months and it had been easier than she thought it ever could be. Annie had simply accepted everything she had to say and expected no other explanations. They could never undo what Jack had done, but they could start fresh with each other.
"The table is already set. Just grab yourself a bowl there," she said, pointing to the two stacked on the counter.
They filled their bowls and took them into the dining room, where Annie had already placed hot French bread. Jessie had taken several bites before she realized there was no meat in the stew.