Janell left the mayor’s office the next afternoon with mixed emotions. She’d recounted her story to them in as unemotional a manner as she could and had apologized for concealing the facts about her marital status when she’d applied for the job.
The councilmen had been courteous and understanding, and they had all assured her that they thought she had been a fine schoolteacher since she’d moved here. But in the end, the charter they operated under had specific guidelines and they’d asked her to step down.
Though sad to lose her job, Janell understood. Not only did she not meet the stated qualifications for the position, but she’d also knowingly withheld information from them in order to get it in the first place. She suggested they hire Patience Bruder to replace her, knowing the part-time helper would make an excellent full-time teacher for her class.
The councilmen each assured her they would keep her story secret and would allow her to resign rather than firing her.
It was the best she could have hoped for under the circumstances. And now she was headed to talk to Hank. Of her two meetings today, this was the one she was most nervous about.
* * *
Hank sat in the sawmill’s tiny office, trying to focus on the ledger, without much luck.
They’d been scheduled to have dinner with Janell and her family again last night. But concern that things would be awkward between him and Janell had almost caused him to cancel. Only the fact that it was doing Chloe a lot of good to be spending time with Janell’s sister had stopped him.
He’d managed to spend most of the evening in conversation with Wilfred about his and his son’s fishing expedition, so he’d avoided interacting with Janell. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t acutely aware of her presence.
And he’d noticed she seemed to be in a strange, thoughtful mood. She didn’t speak much during their visit, but at least she no longer appeared angry with him.
Had she taken any of what he said to heart?
Gus’s barking pulled him back to the present. It sounded as if he had a customer. Hank closed the ledger and stood, relieved to have something else to focus on. He crossed the mill floor quickly, curious to see who had stopped by. It was a slow day and he’d let Simon and Calvin go home early, so he was the only one around. He’d hate to lose a customer because they thought no one was present.
He reached the edge of the platform and then stopped in his tracks. Rather than a customer, Janell stood there, calmly talking to Gus. The dog was still in guard mode—no one was going to get by him until Hank gave the word—but his tail had a suspicious wag to it and his hackles were lowered.
Hank understood the animal’s mixed response. But what in the world was Janell doing here? And had she walked the entire two miles from town again?
“Down, Gus.”
His command had the immediate effect of turning both heads in his direction. Gus trotted over to get the expected scratch behind the ears for his performance, but Janell stayed where she was, a nervous smile on her face, as if she wasn’t sure of her welcome.
Hank stepped down from the elevated mill floor to the ground and absently rubbed the dog’s neck, but his eyes never left Janell. “Can I help you?”
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“And it couldn’t wait until I got home in another hour?”
She fingered the cameo. “Is this a bad time?”
“No. Let’s talk.” He waved to the elevated floor, indicating she should have a seat.
She didn’t hesitate. Relief coloring her expression, she quickly stepped forward and took a seat, arranging her skirts with exaggerated care.
Why was she so nervous? “So what did you want to talk about?”
She finally looked up and met his gaze. “About what you said yesterday.”
He’d figured as much. But he still wasn’t sure what direction her discussion would take. If it was more of the same about why she couldn’t marry him, he was going to get up and leave. “I’m listening.”
She fingered that cameo again. “Yes, well.” Her hands dropped to her lap and she seemed to collect herself. “After I left you yesterday, I had a conversation with Lizzie. She asked for my forgiveness.”
“Forgiveness for what?”
“It seems she assumed I’ve stayed away from Dentonville all this time because I blamed her for my divorce. She believes that if I hadn’t stayed to help take care of her, Gregory would never have filed for divorce.”
“And did you blame her?”
“No, of course not. If Gregory was ready to divorce me over this, it wouldn’t have been long before he would have found some other excuse to do it.”
Was she just now figuring that out?
“I tell you this because it made me realize that perhaps there was something to what you had said, about my holding on to my own sense of blame too strongly.” She moistened her lips. “That combined with something else Lizzie said.”
“And what was that?”
“That regardless of whatever hurt and disappointment I’d heaped on her and on my father, didn’t I realize my shutting them out of my life hurt them much worse.”
“I’m glad your sister helped you figure things out, but why was it so important for you to tell me this right now?” He tried not to let it bother him that she gave more credence to her sister’s words than to his.
But she was shaking her head. “It wasn’t what Lizzie said that cut through my blindness. It was what you said. It was just that Lizzie’s words reinforced it.”
“You still haven’t answered my question.”
“You were right—about so many things. About my so-called self-imposed martyrdom. About my irrational fears.”
She took a deep breath. “About my feelings for you.”
His pulse kicked up a notch at that—not only her words, but also the loving way she looked at him. But he’d misinterpreted that look before. “I’m glad to hear that. But I think we already established that you cared for me. I don’t see that anything’s changed.”