Jade Star (Star Quartet 4)

She said, in an attempt at humor, “Wouldn’t you prefer me as your mistress? Isn’t a wife more expensive?”

“No, I wouldn’t, and frankly, I don’t remember how expensive a wife is.”

Jules blinked at that, distracted. “You’ve already had a wife, Michael?”

“Yes, in Boston. Her name was Kathleen and she was an Irish girl. Only seventeen, but I was a wordly twenty-year-old. She left me to return to Dublin to fetch her mother. She died there of cholera, as did her mother.” Saint paused, aware that he’d spoken emotionlessly. He was also aware that he felt nothing but a faint regret now. Indeed, he could no longer see Kathleen’s face in his mind’s eye.

“I’m sorry,” Jules said, and quickly lowered her eyes. She felt guilty suddenly because she was glad Kathleen was dead and out of Michael’s life.

“It was many years ago, and there’s no reason for you to be sorry. She wasn’t part of your life.” Saint’s voice was natural now, and he was in firm control again. “Now, Jules, your answer, please.”

It wasn’t really a question, she knew, but she didn’t say that aloud. She wanted to ask him if he loved her, but she didn’t ask that either. He didn’t. She also knew, in that moment, that she had enough love for both of them. The Lord moves in mysterious ways, she thought blankly.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, Michael, I would be honored to marry you.”

He felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. His friends had teased him many times about taking a wife. They would doubtless be delighted. And she wasn’t a stranger to him. He had watched his own wife grow up—at least he’d known Jules in her most formative years. And liked her and enjoyed her company.

“Come here,” he said, “and let me kiss you.”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he felt another, equally heavy weight descend. He couldn’t and wouldn’t force her to be a wife in more than name, not after what she had been through.

To his surprise, Jules walked back to him, stood quietly in front of him, and raised her face. He quickly placed a chaste kiss on her pursed lips. They had been friends, and they would continue to be friends. Nothing would change that. He would never hurt her.

Jules opened her eyes. “Thank you, Michael,” she said.

“Certainly,” he said abruptly, misunderstanding her words. What did she think, he wondered—that he would ravish her here on the beach, like John Bleecher?

He caught her hand in his and they walked from the beach together.

Dwight Baldwin wished he’d been present at the church that morning. Certainly he’d been appalled to hear that Saint had physically assaulted a man of God, but he was willing to make allowances when he heard what Etienne DuPres had said. He smiled at Saint now as he stood beside his new bride. He looked immensely relieved, and he was smiling, thank the Lord. Poor Juliana looked numb. Perhaps everything would work out well between these two very good people. He would send many prayers heavenward to that end.

“You may kiss her now, Saint,” Dwight said.

Saint dipped his head and gently touched his closed lips to hers.

Mrs. Baldwin, a placid, plump woman, hugged Jules, and to Dwight’s surprise, Jules said with some of her old enthusiasm, “I’d forgotten how beautiful your garden is, ma’am. The kukui, bananas, guava, kou—”

“Don’t forget the grape arbors,” Saint added, giving her a tender smile. “Surely, Mrs. Baldwin, you remember what a naturalist Jules is. Have you any new plants to show her?”

“Figs,” said Mrs. Baldwin. “If you like, Juliana, we can serve you some at the wedding dinner.”

Jules turned wide eyes on her hostess. “Wedding dinner? But there is no one to come.”

Dwight said easily, though he thought he actually felt her pain for a moment, “Of course we’re having a celebration dinner, my dear. You and Saint have many friends here. True friends, you know, remain just that.”

“I do not wish,” Jules said to Reverend Baldwin, “for you to be in disagreement with my father. It could not be comfortable for you. You have already done so much for me . . . for us.”

He wanted to tell her that he thought her father was the most unnatural creature imaginable, but he didn’t. There was no reason to upset her further. “I will be just fine, Juliana. You are not to worry about anyone save your new husband, and I think the poor man is becoming faint from hunger.”

“I agree,” Saint said. “You are to talk about me, my empty stomach, and not about the Baldwins’ garden.”

Jules took him at his word, and to his consternation, began to tell the Baldwins about his fine and selfless work in San Francisco.

“I think that soon you will be as noble as your nickname, Saint,” Dwight said with a crooked smile sometime later in the crowded Baldwin parlor. “You’ve got yourself a fine woman.”

“Yes,” Saint said, looking over to where Jules stood speaking to several local Hawaiian families. “I never thought this would happen, even two days ago.” He shook his head. “Life is bloody strange.”

Dwight laughed. “I’m just glad you weren’t already married. Then we would have been in the stew!”