Page 16 of I Do, I Do, I Do
She had loved him. But she’d loved a person who didn’t really exist. He’d only been a mirror reflecting her dreams.
When the tears and self-flagellation passed, and after she had remembered and considered all that she could endure to remember and consider, the light had faded and Zoe sat on the floor in shadow. But anger directed her toward decisions that needed to be made.
She knew she ought to go home to Newcastle and confess how she had been wronged and let her father and brothers find Jean Jacques. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that her pa and her brothers would avenge her honor. They would beat the living hell out of Jean Jacques, maybe kill him, and it would serve the bastard right.
But three things stopped her from seeking comfort in the bosom of her family. First, the company did not grant time off unless a man had broken bones. If her father or brothers went to the Yukon in search of Jean Jacques, they would lose their jobs at the mines. Zoe couldn’t let that disaster happen on top of everything else. Second, she had her pride. Eventually she’d have to tell Ma and the others how dumb and foolish she had been. But it didn’t have to happen yet. Third, she didn’t deserve her family’s support, not after she’d betrayed them in her mind.
No, if she was to have retribution, she’d have to see to it herself. She would be the one traveling to the Yukon.
Near daybreak she understood that she’d made yet another mistake by sending the other wives away with a hearty good riddance. If they also intended to seek Jean Jacques in the Klondike, then it would be smarter and more efficient to travel together. They could take one set of cooking utensils instead of three. One clothes iron, one curling iron. One tent to share.
Zoe desperately needed to do something smart to salvage a fraction of her self-esteem and feel worthy of Ma’s faith.
A deep sob gurgled up from her despair, and she fell back on the floor, staring at a stain on the ceiling just visible in the predawn light. Admitting to Ma that she’d been played for a sucker would be the hardest thing she ever did.
***
It seemed to Juliette that she’d done nothing for months but wring her hands and search for guidance. First she had looked to Aunt Kibble for answers, then she had transferred her hopes to Clara. For a few minutes yesterday she had believed Zoe Wilder would know what to do.
Looking to others to make her decisions disgusted her. She had gotten herself to Clara’s inn on the Oregon coast, hadn’t she? And then to Seattle. True, she had been fearful every step of the way, dreading the new experiences sure to fall in her direction. And rightly so. Thus far, nothing good had come from this painful journey.
So. What should she do now?
No matter what the answer was, she knew she would hate it. There were no comfortable answers in this situation.
“At least we know where he is,” she stated glumly after the waiter had removed her breakfast plate. “I suppose we’ve achieved our objective.”
“I haven’t. My objective was and is to get my money.”
She and Clara sat back to back at separate tables in the hotel’s dining room. They had stepped out the door of Zoe’s boardinghouse yesterday, taken a hard look at each other, then marched off in different directions. There was no point trying to be polite about it. Juliette loathed Clara and Clara loathed her. They both loathed Zoe.
She took a sip of coffee, extending her little finger. “How do you intend to get your money?” she asked, gazing across the dining room.
From behind her, she heard Clara sigh. “He has to return to Seattle sometime. I’ll wait here and meet every ship that returns from Alaska.”
She could do the same thing. She had no other pressing business. Heaven knew she wasn’t ready to return to Linda Vista, face Aunt Kibble, and confess the truth.
“Well, glory be, look who’s come calling!” She couldn’t believe her eyes.
Zoe Wilder stood in the doorway scanning the hotel dining room until she spotted Juliette staring back at her. Then, grim-lipped and determined, she stepped forward.
Clara swiveled in her chair to look. “She’s very pretty.”
Indeed she was, Juliette thought, feeling a sharp bite of jealousy. A crisp straw hat trimmed with cloth daisies held Zoe’s abundant black hair in place. She wore a snowy summer shirtwaist with a black ribbon at the throat and a dark skirt that appeared freshly brushed and ironed. Her snapping blue eyes were not as soulful or melting as Juliette’s nor was her skin as glowing and fine as Clara’s, but many heads turned to follow her progress.
Before a waiter could rush to assist her, Zoe pulled out a chair at Juliette’s table. “Clara, come over here.”
“If you want to speak to me, the two of you can come to my table.”
Zoe’s eyes narrowed, and she muttered something about being childish, then she motioned Juliette to her feet and they moved to Clara’s table.
Juliette detested Clara’s triumphant smile. She caught the waiter’s eye and ordered fresh coffee for the three of them and then fixed a look on Clara. “Since we’re atyourtable,you’llbe charged for the coffee,” she mentioned in a steely sweet voice. “I’m sure you won’t mind since sitting here isyourdemand.”
Clara ignored her, turning to Zoe. “This is certainly a surprise. I believe you said you couldn’t stand us and never wanted to see us again. Correct me if I’m mistaken, but didn’t you shout this as you were ordering us out of your rooms?”
“And I meant every word. I think we can agree that we hate each other and with good reason,” Zoe stated in a businesslike tone. “But hating each other needn’t prevent us from doing the smart thing.” She nodded to the waiter as he placed a cup and saucer before her, then watched Juliette take a sip. She, too, extended her little finger, then made a sound of disgust and set her cup back in the saucer with a hard rattle.
Juliette watched with interest. Zoe Wilder was not a lady and never would be, nor was Clara. Jean Jacques had made only one marriage worthy of him. “And what do you consider the smart thing?” she inquired.
