More of You (Confessions of the Heart 1)

Quickly, I put on the fresh sheets, hands trembling as I tucked them into the mattress.

This was such a terrible idea.

I mean, seriously, Jace Jacobs was staying here. In the room right next to mine.

So stupid.

The hardest part was knowing it would be stupid to turn him away.

To disregard what he was offering.

I gave myself a sharp shake of my head as I dragged the comforter toward the massive headboard, thinking of how my dreams undulated like a flag blown in the wind.

Twisting this way and that, my hopes rising and falling and whipping and howling.

When we’d lost Joseph, they had gone straight to the backburner, someday drifting farther and farther away.

It was hard to admit it, but because of Jace’s generosity, that someday felt as if it’d gotten one day closer.

His promise to watch over us and start working on the house while he was here was the kind of proposal only a fool would refuse.

Of course, I’d had to sell my soul to the devil to make that happen.

I just prayed Joseph wouldn’t think it wrong. That he wasn’t somewhere, caught between heaven and hell, judging the choices I was making now.

Squeezing my eyes closed, I lifted my face toward the ceiling, and whispered, “I’m doing my best.”

Would he understand that?

And had he done his best?

My heart clenched with the thought, and I let myself get lost in the memories as I went to the antique dresser to dust it.

I’d felt as if I’d won the lottery when Joseph had come home on that night a few months before Bailey was born and gave me the news that he’d purchased this house.

I’d been awed and humbled and grateful beyond measure that he’d worked so hard to give me something he knew I’d wanted so desperately.

One of the best things about the house was that it’d come with the furnishings. Every room was fully furnished, the ornate, handmade pieces that had been left behind by the previous owners teeming with history and charm, perfect accents already in place.

At one point, this room had been painted a dark blue, though it’d faded and chipped.

The wallpaper, which someone had to have put up sometime in the seventies, was peeling, and the worn wooden floors were in dire need of a good sanding and staining.

But other than that, it was in fairly good shape, which was the reason I’d picked it.

Well, that and as I’d nervously flitted from room to room, trying to picture where in the world I was supposed to put the man, my child had claimed, “Bwew is for boys. This room, Mommy.”

It’d been decided.

Now, I was questioning how in the world I’d agreed to let him stay in the room right next to mine.

That was nothing but a disaster waiting to happen.

I tipped the polish onto the rag and began to wipe down the aged, darkened wood, every stroke brightening the dresser to a gleaming sheen.

I quickly wiped down the bronze handles and tugged open the drawers to make sure they weren’t providing shelter to a dust bunny or two.

I made it through the top row and started on the lower, only to pause in surprise after I’d tugged one open.

Inside was a key.

An old, ornate, antique key.

But it was the thick piece of parchment paper folded in half underneath that sent nerves skittering across my flesh.

I could have sworn I’d been through these drawers before and this hadn’t been here. Was sure this wasn’t a relic left from centuries ago to tease us with a love that once was.

It was funny how it almost felt that way, though. As if I were reaching out to touch something in the distance.

Something lost.

A whisper of a memory.

My pulse beat a sluggish cadence of sorrow as I pulled the note free.

Our anniversary had only been a week away, and I was bettin’ he’d hidden this here.

I sank onto my bottom on the rug, hands shaking as I opened the note.

The words were drawn in pencil, sharp and choppy, the blocky handwriting one I would never forget. My heart fisted in my chest.

Faith,

The first time I saw you, I wanted you. I guessed I’d always chased after the things that weren’t mine. I’m so sorry for that. But I don’t regret it.

Do you remember the day we got married? Look at that picture, Faith. Look at me. It was the most honest day of my life. But even that honesty was tainted because you never really belonged to me.

I could never regret you. The only thing I wish is that I’d done it all differently.

Look at that picture, Faith. What you see there, it’s the truth.

Joseph

Uncertainty flooded into my broken heart, a river of it gushing in to fill the cracks and crevices, carving out a canyon of questions and confusion.

I’d never belonged to him?