Chapter 16
Reese woke on Christmas morning before the bells.
At first, she lay still, listening to the quiet of the old house. For one brief, perfect moment, she thought she might drift back to sleep.
Then her stomach turned.
Reese barely had time to push herself upright before the wave hit.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and pressed a hand to her mouth, beginning the mental affirmations Catherine had recommended.
But when Reese tried to stand, hoping to get to the pitcher and basin, she feared she would hurl.
“Jem,” she moaned.
He was awake instantly and on the move. “I’ve got you.”
In a flash, he handed her the basin and went back for a plain biscuit and the potion Aunt Nellie had left to help. Reese preferred to take it only when the nausea wouldn’t stop.
If she could get through the first hour or so of the day, she felt practically normal, except for a few things that just smelled wrong. Catherine assured her that once Reese gave birth, the offness should go away.
Jem sat beside her on the bed, a hand on her lower back. She appreciated how lightly it rested there. He understood her so well and intuitively knew that when she was sick, she couldn’t stand feeling trapped. And even a loving hand placed too firmly rubbed at her like a tag left in a blouse.
Reese took a small bite of the biscuit. With his gentle support, she focused on her affirmations. This will pass. I’ve gone through harder things than this. My body is working hard for something good.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “Of all days.”
“Hey.” Jem kissed her temple. “It’s Christmas. That means grace applies extra.”
That coaxed a small smile from her before she went back to her affirmations.
“I’ll ring for some ginger tea.” He rose and went to the cord.
Reese hoped the servants got paid more for working on the holiday.
By the time the tea arrived, she was feeling a little better but appreciated having something besides water to get the plain biscuit down. When she had asked Catherine if they were hardtack, the woman had laughed.
“Uh, no. While I miss the digestives of our time, a plain biscuit isn’t a poor substitute. Hardtack is hard enough to break teeth.”
“I’m over the worst of it,” Reese said when she finished the dry biscuit.
“Good.” Jem gave her a concerned look.
“What?”
“Well, I saw your expression yesterday when we first smelled the bacon. You could take your breakfast here and avoid it completely.”
Shaking her head, Reese slowly stood. “I want to share Christmas breakfast with everyone. I don’t know how likely it is we’ll be able to do this again.”
Jem glanced at the potion he had returned to the dresser. “Nellie promises it won’t harm the baby, and Catherine says it’s fine.”
“Just a sip. I only need to keep the trigger smells from bothering me.”
Jem handed her a fresh cup of tea laced with Nellie’s potion. “Take all the time you need.”
As he moved to the window to draw the curtains wide, letting in the morning light, Jem’s ghost story drifted back to Reese.
She had attended his plays and many of his practices.
He was always attuned to the people watching, adjusting his performances to get the most out of the audience.
Last night, he’d been different. Jem controlled his listeners at the same time he was actively creating a story. He was a masterful storyteller.
Reese took a sip and immediately felt better. With the taste of ginger still on her tongue, something clicked in her mind. Last night, she had seen her sweet husband in a new light, as though her view had shifted enough to reveal something she hadn’t recognized before.
From the hall came the sound of a door opening, followed by footsteps. Then muffled voices.
Christmas Day had begun, and Reese thought she might finally know what to do.
By the time Reese made her way downstairs, the occupants of Kellworth were in full motion.
The snow had stopped. While she loved the house’s atmosphere in candlelight, the bright sunshine transformed the house in ways candles never could.
The corridors felt wider, the colors truer, the grandeur less theatrical and more lived-in.
The household prepared for church, fetching coats and pairing gloves. Jem crouched to say something to Gareth’s twins, earning a giggle from Sophie. Jem then came to help Reese with her coat.
They rode in two carriages to the church, the air crisp and the snow bright, almost blinding.
Inside, Reese found the Church of England service both familiar and different from what she was used to at home and wondered if it was the time or the country.
She and Jem enthusiastically sang the familiar Christmas hymns.
They had sent word through modern Aunt Nellie to let them know they didn’t expect gifts.
It was difficult to transport objects through time, not impossible but awkward.
Reese and Jem sat together, his arm around her shoulders, enjoying the gift exchanges among the others.
The twins were too young to understand, but like modern children, the wrapping entertained them as much as the pull toy and baby doll with a real china head.
“I feel a little like we’re in an old Santa Claus movie where everything is wooden and carefully made by elves,” Reese whispered, and Jem had to smother a chuckle.
Later, she savored the experience of conversing with her friends during the Christmas dinner of turkey and roast beef, potatoes, carrots, bread sauce, meat pies, plum pudding, mince pies, and trifle.
Though she couldn’t help hoping that with so much food, the family would eat leftovers so the servants could have the next day off.
Across the table, Jem was making Gareth laugh at something, easy and unhurried. Warmth filled Reese at what good friends they had become.
All the while, in the back of her mind, she continued to turn over Jem’s ghost story performance the night before.
It wasn’t even that he had been good at it.
He had always been talented. And it wasn’t that she wanted to tell him what would make him happy.
She trusted he knew that better than anyone.
Reese wanted only to be certain he knew he hadn’t settled, that the life he loved still had room to grow.
By evening, the house had fallen into a quieter rhythm. Jem welcomed it. He always liked this part of Christmas best, when the rush had passed and everyone could relax and enjoy the fruits of the day.
The fire burned low in the drawing room. The older couples were playing a game of whist while Catherine and Gareth settled the twins for the night. Ellen had fallen asleep beside Michael, who quietly read near the fireplace. Outside, the snow reflected the light from the window.
Jem sat next to Reese while he tried to figure out a ring puzzle Catherine had given to Gareth for Christmas. It was harder than it looked.
Glancing up, he found Reese gazing at the fireplace. She was quieter than usual, but more thoughtful than anything. He was about to go back to the puzzle when she shifted so that she faced him.
“Can I ask you something?” Her tone drew his full attention. It wasn’t like she was worried, but... maybe she was a little.
He set down the puzzle. “Of course.”
“You were so good last night with the ghost story.” Reese made a face. “And you know, I think you’re amazingly talented. That’s not new. It’s just that last night struck me... differently.”
Jem rubbed his chin, thinking back on the experience, not sure what she could mean. “Different how?”
She gave a soft sigh. “All day I’ve been trying to think how to put it into words. When you act, you’re brilliant, but you’re working inside a shape someone else made. Even though you do your own interpretation of the words and make the role your own, the bones are already there.”
“That’s acting,” Jem said carefully.
“Duh.” She nudged his arm. “I know better than to explain your job to you.”
Reese hesitated, her expression thoughtful. “Last night, you built the story as you went along. You didn’t only create, you paid attention to your audience and gleaned what we needed from the story. Besides using your own words, you listened to us and adapted in the moment.”
She shook her head. “It was more than that. I’ve seen improv.
But I’ve never seen anyone use the audience so well to craft an extemporaneous story.
” Reese paused, watching him with such admiration that it made something settle in Jem’s chest. She continued, “You used all your skills to help us collaborate with you to find the story we needed.”
Jem tilted his head, considering her words. While he hadn’t done it intentionally, he could see what she was talking about. He shrugged.
“Don’t you see?” Reese leaned forward. “You’re not just an actor. You read people, like those teenagers with messy lives. Your fellow actors during rehearsal and even an audience by the fire. I would call you a storyteller.”
“An actor does one role at a time,” he mused, “while a storyteller plays them all.”
“Thank you for the clarification, Mr. Teacher,” she said dryly. “But it feels like it’s more. It’s almost like you’re kind of a... facilitator. Does that make sense?”
Nodding, Jem leaned back. Facilitator. He wouldn’t have used the word to describe himself, but it felt right. He thought of his classroom, of rehearsals, of the way people leaned forward when they felt seen. It wasn’t about performing. Maybe that’s why he found what he was doing so satisfying.
Reese watched his expression shift, relief and uncertainty warring briefly on her face. Why?
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
She looked down at her hands, her tone softer when she spoke again. “Since we got together, I’ve worried that my father issues made you settle on your career choice.”
The guilt in her voice made him still. “I admit that I thought I was, in the beginning.” Jem put a finger under her chin and made her meet his gaze.
“But I love teaching. I’ve found working with the kids is so much more fulfilling than anything I ever did onstage.
Or offstage. I wouldn’t change that for anything. ”
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“Absolutely. For me, teaching isn’t a consolation prize that I had to accept so I could be with you. I love our life.” He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “I wouldn’t change anything.”
“Maybe not right now you wouldn’t.”
“Reese,” Jem said carefully, “what’s going on?”
“Will it be enough for you for the next thirty or forty years?”
Jem blinked and then frowned. “And will what you’re doing get old for you in ten or twenty years? We can’t see into the...” He broke off and chuckled softly. “Well, I suppose we could ask Nellie to send us into the future to see...”
Reese gave a soft groan. “No, thank you.”
“It’s clear that I’ve not been very good about sharing with you what’s in my mind.” Jem tilted his head, gathering his thoughts. Across the room came the soft slap of cards and the murmur of the whist players.
“To be honest,” he said finally, “it came on me gradually. After my first year of teaching, when I looked back on the kids I helped work through a lot of issues, that’s when I knew I’d found what I wanted to do. Sorry I didn’t tell you.”
She leaned against him, and they sat in silence for a few moments. Then he remembered the flyer he’d seen at the library before the holidays, and it all fell into place.
“Funny you should bring all this up.”
Reese straightened and met his gaze. “What are you thinking?”
“There’s a flyer at the library about a storytelling festival starting up in town. Workshops. They want to hold an annual event but also teach people how to write and tell their own stories.”
“I like it.” She watched him expectantly. “Does it interest you?”
“Yeah, it does. I found it intriguing but didn’t give it much thought, except it would be fun to try in the future.” Jem met her gaze again. “I didn’t want you to think I was restless.”
“See what I mean?” Reese kept her voice low.
Jem turned from watching the fire. “Do you want me to look into it further?”
“Only if you want to.” She shifted to face him, tucking her feet up beneath her. “I’ll support you any way I can.”
He was quiet for a moment, watching the flames. Then he reached over and took her hand. “I love you. And I promise to talk to you about what’s going on in my mind.”
“All I want is for you to be happy with a job that fulfills you.”
“Let me assure you, my love, I am.” He stood, drawing her up with him, and kissed her.
The groan from the whist table was immediate and unanimous.