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Seth had been avoiding Jessica since David North confessed to Benderson's murder. She knew he had been devastated hearing Mort tell him that his dear friend had confessed to killing his blackmailer. David was a movie star and had it all.
Of course, once all the puzzle pieces came together, it had been obvious what had happened. David had made a mistake years ago, driving under the influence, and inadvertently caused his friend, Vincent's, death. Being blackmailed by his manager had influenced him to step away from his career, as it had been a constant reminder of the burden he had carried with him for all these years. But killing the man? How people came up with murder as a solution to a problem was bizarre and unhinged. She had known last night that Seth didn’t understand it. He couldn't understand it. He was so angry at David for ruining his life.
Jessica knew there was something deeply wrong that went far beyond the murder. David had been Seth's childhood friend, but there was something else there. Almost a hero worship below the surface. Perhaps the fact that David was famous and had wealth, prestige, and presumably adoring women had something to do with it. She didn't think Seth regretted his life choices, but that didn't mean he couldn't be jealous of the glamour in David's life. It simply made him human.
Regardless, it had been twenty-four hours since David's arrest, and it had been unsettling knowing that Seth had been there when they transferred David from Cabot Cove as a prisoner. She had wanted to intervene, but there was nothing she could do. Instead, she decided to give Seth space last night to be the friend that he wanted to be. Determined to finish her book, she had been so exhausted that she fell asleep at her typewriter. In the early hours of the morning, she had woken up with renewed determination though, finishing the less than ten pages of her manuscript in two hours.
Since then, she had tried calling Seth three different times. Once, early this morning before his clinic hours, but he hadn't answered. The second time was during lunch, and Beverly told her that she would tell the Doc she called. Now, it was half past six and no answer again.
Jessica had made a roast tonight, in hopes that Seth would stop by and share it with her. It was ready in the slow cooker with potatoes and extra carrots, because she knew carrots were his favorite.
Making a decision, she turned the slow cooker off, putting it on a folded hand towel in the refrigerator since it was warm. It would keep for later. Satisfied, she went to bundle up in her coat. She would walk to Seth's house and get to the bottom of whatever was going on.
S/J
Less than ten minutes later, when he didn't answer her knock, she used her key and let herself into his house. The downstairs lights were off; his clinic closed for the night. She walked through the hall to the stairs, and looking up, she could see a small light visible at the top of the landing.
"Seth! Are you home?"
No answer. He had to be home if the lights were on.
Really worried now, she yelled louder, "Seth! I'm coming upstairs!" She stomped on every step as she climbed them, making sure that he wouldn't be surprised at her entrance, knowing she was intruding in his home without invitation.
When she reached the top, she noticed that the kitchen light was on, along with the living room lamp, and she could smell some type of chicken dish if her nose was correct. Standing in the entry to the kitchen, it was obvious that Seth was in the middle of preparing dinner, the countertops full of food prep and the pan on the stove ready to grill the chicken that appeared to still be marinating in the bag of herbs and oil on the counter.
Where was Seth?
She walked back into the living room, towards the hallway.
She was just about to call his name again, when she heard something unpleasant. It sounded as though Seth was losing his stomach. She didn't want to embarrass him or invade his privacy, but she was worried. She tiptoed down the hallway, and yes, despite the noise of the bathroom vent, the human sounds coming from the bathroom were obviously retching.
Oh dear. What could she do for him that wouldn't mortify him?
Slipping back down the hallway, she looked in the kitchen. Perhaps he would have some club soda somewhere. Yes, at the back of the refrigerator was a can by its lonesome. She would wait though to pull it out until he emerged from the bathroom.
She hovered, pacing between the hallway and kitchen, wanting him to have a semblance of privacy, while trying to oversee his whereabouts. As the vomiting continued, she made the executive decision to put the food away in the refrigerator. If he made a miraculous recovery, she would pull it all back out and cook dinner for them later.
She had just returned to the living room and began pacing again towards the hallway, when Seth swung the bathroom door open, his face pale and wan.
Shocked, he stumbled into the door frame. “Jess? What are you doing here?”
“Seth! Are you alright?”
He shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment, as though he thought he might be dreaming. Or perhaps it was to discern if he needed to turn back around for the bathroom.
Walking towards him, she was hesitant, but she couldn't stay away. She needed to be near him. Reaching his side, his pale face was sweaty, and his breathing was shallow. "Seth? Darling? What's wrong?"
"I can't keep anything down."
That much had been obvious, but she understood that was all he could focus on. She reached for his hand and led him over to the couch. "Wait here." She went into the bathroom and found a clean washcloth and ran it under cold water, wringing it out. When she returned, she sat close to him, gently wiping his forehead and face free of the sweat, while cooling his skin. "You had a can of club soda in the refrigerator. Do you think you could manage some of that?"
He nodded.
He heard the click of the can from the kitchen, and the sound of her pouring the carbonated beverage into a glass. "Here, darling." He took the glass and sipped it sparingly. He was worried he could lose this, too. But he knew he needed to try.
Seth was too sick to care that Jessica was seeing him this way. It wouldn't matter once he confessed anyway. He had been so hot in the bathroom and had felt the sweat prickle across his forehead and chest, dampening his shirt, but now that had passed, he was getting cold. He began to shiver, and his hand holding the glass started to shake. Holding it between both hands now, it was more stable, although the liquid had made the glass cold, which was not doing his body temperature any favor.
Jessica sat down next to him, rubbing his leg. They weren't together exactly, but they had been flirting and had even shared a few tentative kisses since Christmas. Seth had been vulnerable during the holiday season in ways he hadn't been before. Sharing his childhood memories and disappointments about the train set he had coveted as a young boy. She had tried to redeem some of that hurt by giving him a train engine. A thoughtful gift perhaps but thoughtlessly given in a crowded party. She realized her mistake immediately and apologized later.
He had forgiven her. Of course he had. But that didn't mean he had been as jolly as Saint Nick that evening when he drove her home. No, he had kissed her cheek, slower than usual, with greater intention perhaps, longing even, but a clear boundary, nonetheless.
Taking two steps forward and one step back ever since, there was a great deal of fear between them, and as mature as she believed them to be, the fear continued to control them. She knew why she was afraid – she didn't think she could bear the grief if she opened her heart and then lost him. She had lived through that once after Frank died, and she didn't think she would survive it again. She was also afraid about deepening their relationship and then discovering that they weren't compatible for some reason. She had little dating experience, and none since being with Frank. She couldn't lose Seth's friendship if they didn't make it romantically. But she wasn't sure why Seth was afraid. Perhaps for the same reasons – he had lost his own wife years before she had lost Frank. But she sensed there was more than that. She didn't know what it was though.
She had stopped rubbing his leg, but had left her hand on his thigh, watching him sip his soda water. She had wanted to take it from his hands when they began to shake, but she hadn't, sensing he needed to hold it to ground himself, even if he didn't drink it. But he continued to take small sips.
After taking another one, Seth held onto the glass, but leaned back against the couch, closing his eyes, appearing much older than she knew him to be. She was worried, deeply worried, aware that she could do nothing more than wait until he was ready to tell her whatever was wrong.
But she supposed it wouldn't hurt to ask.
"Seth? Darling?"
"Hmm?"
"Why can’t you keep anything down? Is there anything I can do?" She began rubbing his thigh again. There was nothing sexual in the touch, though it was a bit possessive. She needed something to ground her, too; it wasn’t just him that needed that. She was beginning to feel a level of panic, witnessing his distress, and not understanding its root.
"No, Jess. I wish…"
"Tell me, please. Whatever it is, Seth. It will be okay."
"If only that were true…"
The fear and panic were pulsing below the surface. He was so pale, and his skin was still damp from sweat. She couldn't wait any longer. "Seth, are you seriously ill? Has something happened? Whatever it is, please tell me."
He opened his eyes, and they were listless and dull, dark circles underneath them. "Jess, I need to tell you something and when I do, if you don't want to have anything to do with me anymore, I'll understand. But it's eating me alive, and I can't keep it a secret anymore." He started to lift his hands to wave them, as though he was explaining by his appearance and inability to keep food down that there was ample evidence to that statement.
"Seth, there isn't anything you could tell me that would make me feel that way."
"Jess, hush. You don't know that. If I told you I murdered someone, I doubt you'd feel that way."
Confident that wasn't what he was going to tell her, she pushed, trying to show him that it wouldn't matter what he told her. She would never push him away. "Is that what you plan on telling me?"
"No, of course not. But there are plenty that would judge me nearly as much."
"What in the world are you talking about?" She moved closer to him, wanting to soothe him, but he pulled away, shifting a few inches, but the distance felt greater, the body language loud and clear.
"No, please, don't touch me. Not until you hear. I can't tell you and watch you pull away. Better to have space now."
He waited, clearly expecting her to remove her hand from his thigh. She debated arguing, but she settled on moving it to her lap, while she stayed sitting beside him. She would not create any more distance between them than he had created physically, and she already felt emotionally.
"You can tell me anything, Seth. I'll listen and I won't judge. I had hoped you would already know that."
"Well, I suppose we are about to see, aren't we?" His eyes were closed, his face still pale and pained. But he swallowed and opened them, turning his head to stare at her.
Was he trying to make her uncomfortable? No, he appeared absolutely miserable. She felt uncomfortable under his stare, but only because it was as though he was memorizing her face, convinced that she would leave him. He didn't say that – but she could feel it as though he had, and it felt like a punch to her stomach.
"Please," her voice, pleading.
"Jess, you know that David was my best friend; we grew up together. I showed you that picture of us in the third grade. Well, as teenagers and young men we were inseparable. Until he went off to Hollywood to make a name for himself, and I went off to war. Later, of course, I went to medical school and eventually married Ruth. He became a huge star, but we kept in touch over the years and saw one another whenever he visited on vacation."
She nodded, trying to encourage him. When he mentioned murder earlier, she wondered…could he have been involved in some way in David's deception with his friend's death that led to him being blackmailed? She didn't think that was it, but she wasn't sure what was going on, trying to think of whatever could have happened that would make Seth believe he could lose her.
"Well, when we were teenagers, we did all the things that best friends do. During the summers, we ate together, we went fishing and swimming and played softball. We went to the movie matinees on Saturdays, taking the girls we were seeing, whenever we could scrounge up a bit of pocket money. My father was a miserable drunk in those days, and I didn't like to talk about it, but David knew. He had even witnessed it a few times and was always good about inviting me to his house, or somewhere else, especially on nights when we knew he was drinking or giving my mother hell."
He paused there, blowing a big sigh out, needing to collect his thoughts. He took another sip of the club soda, his hands not shaking as much as before, but still unsteady. He kept holding the cup between his hands, and stared down into it, ready to continue.
"Well, David became my hero. I idolized him. He was even a bit of a savior to me then. He was the one who showed me how to talk to girls and who helped me save face when I tried to avoid being at home. Didn't make a big deal out of my parents being a mess and my house being on the wrong side of the tracks. David's family didn't have a lot of money in those days, but they weren't poor like we were. Of course, most of our poverty was due to my old man drinking what little bit of money he had from a bottle. But David's family were artsy like him, musicians and teachers. His mother was a painter, too. He had been an only child and was the golden son."
Jessica was listening avidly but had heard nothing thus far that would cause such concern and fear from Seth. She was tempted to put her hand back on his thigh, but refrained, remembering what he said about not wanting to witness her physically pull away. She didn't believe that would happen, but as she was still clueless about what he was worried about, she waited. Impatiently, but she did wait. It didn't take him much longer.
His voice dropped impossibly lower, breaking between words, the shame evident, combined with the fear, making her heart break. "I suppose it was inevitable…that I would fall in love with David."
The air left the room. She understood now what he was terrified of, even though there was not one shred of doubt in her mind that his own self-judgement and shame was a result of the times they had grown up in, which was the root of his fear that she would react in a certain way. Even though she knew he knew her better than that. For she had been honest, and she felt momentary relief. Her previous belief that nothing he could tell her would make her push him away – she was right. She loved this man, and no matter what, once he got through telling her his story, she would figure out a way to assure him that her love was unconditional.
She had given him time to continue, but he was waiting for her to comment. She supposed the terror he was feeling would make him leery of sharing anything else, which could open him to disdain or even ridicule, if she had been inclined.
So, quietly, weighing her words, she did her best to say what she felt was the most important information to convey, without interrupting his story. She wanted desperately to hold his hand, so badly that her fingers were twitching, but he was much too triggered right now. Instead, she whispered, hoping that her words would soothe him, "Seth, of course, you fell in love with him. That seems completely reasonable. Was he receptive to you?"
"I didn't tell him!" He seemed appalled at the suggestion that he would be the initiator, clearly recognizing his own judgement though, when he wiped his face angrily, and continued, "But David knew. I mean, he had an uncle who was that way, and he told me later that he had long before realized that he liked both men and women. I don't understand it. I sure as hell didn't understand it then, and I was the one feeling that way!"
Curious, she asked, "Have you always been that way?"
Startled, he wasn't exactly sure what she meant. "What?"
"Do you like both men and women?"
"No! I mean. Not really. Christ, I mean – Jess, I like women." Eyeing her, he said, "Specifically one woman." Shaking his head, he focused. He couldn't allow any hope to form with Jessica. Now was not the time. "But…I did love one man – although we were only about seventeen at the time – and once David discerned how I felt, he admitted he felt the same about me. Can you believe it? I sure couldn't."
She smiled at him. "Of course, I can believe it. You don't give yourself any credit. You are a wonderful man, Seth Hazlitt, and you are incredibly loyal. That is a virtue when it comes to friendship and love."
"Virtue? Woman, have you gone mad?"
"No, but I think you might have if you think this is going to make me see you as any less of a man. Or – perhaps the bigger fear is that I would no longer see you as the man I love? That is your fear, isn't it?"
He shook his head, as though he hadn't heard her correctly. Had he? He wasn't sure. But he had to make sure she understood what he was talking about. "Jess, you don't understand."
"I think I do. You admitted that you were in love with David as a young man. Unless, well, are you trying to tell me that you are still in love with him? Have I misunderstood your intentions?”
"No, I haven't been in love with David since I met Ruth. Although when he went off to Hollywood, it broke my heart. I'm many things, Jess, but I wouldn't have been flirting with you and kissing you since Christmas and then throw that all away by starting something up with David. But – I don't think you understand."
She would risk it – she had to. For her own sanity, and his. She reached slowly. Tentatively. Towards his hand. Picked it up and pulled it back onto her lap, holding it tightly. "Tell me whatever it is you think I don't understand."
He tried to pull his hand away, but she wouldn't let him. Not the first time. She decided if he tried again, she wouldn't keep it against his will, but she didn't think his first attempt to pull away was because he wanted to. When he didn't pull away a second time, she squeezed it. Making it clear that she wanted to connect with him, to provide him comfort and assurance. She needed that as well.
He closed his eyes again and seemed to hold his breath. "Jess, we weren't just in love. We – acted on it."
"You made love?"
"Is that what you call it?"
“Was it consensual?”
“Of course it was!”
“Then yes, I would call it making love.”
“I don’t think you understand.”
"Well, then help me. What would you call what you were doing?"
He raised his eyebrows, willing her to force him to say the word.
Her voice soft, she said, "I know that word, Seth, but if you were in love as you say, I don't think you mean it."
"But – we were two randy teenage boys, young men almost, having a sexual relationship. Do you have any idea what males do together?"
"Oh, I have a good idea."
He kept pushing, trying to embarrass her, in an attempt to cover his own shame. Short-sighted and unable to connect how it would only add to that shame. He knew he was only hurting himself, but he couldn't seem to stop. "There was a lot of touching with hands and mouths…other orifices involved. Teenage boys have out of control hormones and can go for a long time and they can go over and over again."
Her cheeks grew pink, but she stayed silent, staring at him.
"It was the early 1940s, Jess! Aren't you ashamed of me?"
Her embarrassment faded in seconds, her eyes flashed, challenging him. Emphasizing every word, she said, "I am not, Seth Hazlitt."
She saw a brief flicker of hope in his eyes, before a wave of self-hatred crashed over his features again.
"Why not?"
She squeezed his hand so tightly that she thought it might hurt him, but she wanted him to feel her support. The shame he had carried over this for decades weighed heavily in the room, and there was no reason for it. Yes, they grew up in a day and age when most people would view it as shameful, but thankfully the world was changing. Besides, loving someone and making love to them was a very different activity than having sex outside a loving relationship.
"Because you just sat here and told me you were in love with him, and he was in love with you. That makes it different. Love isn't seedy, Seth. It may have looked different than what you were raised to believe it should, but it has never sounded to me like the relationship between your parents was something you wanted to emulate anyway. No wonder you looked for and found something different. So, your relationship with David didn't fit into the box you were taught it should. It was still love. And – no matter what…sexual activities you engaged in, you were in a loving relationship. He didn't treat you badly, did he?"
"No, of course not. He was my first – he was my everything." The last word came out strangled, and gasping.
She smiled again, feeling happy for him. "And you treated him well, didn't you?"
"Well, yes, of course. I would never hurt someone I love."
"I know you wouldn't." Squeezing his hand, she coaxed him to maintain eye contact. "Just as I know you wouldn't hurt me."
"I couldn't hurt you, Jess. Ever. It would kill me."
"I know."
"But –"
Jessica couldn't let him continue his train of self-chastisement, intending to shift the conversation to what she thought would open a door to further understanding. "What did Ruth say about David?"
The fear leapt in his face again, causing her own chest to tighten. "I never told Ruth about David."
Shocked for the first time, she asked, "Never?"
"Never. I’ve never told anyone before telling you. No, Ruth knew we had been best friends. I always kept clippings from the newspaper when he was in a new film or theatre production. But no, I couldn't tell her."
"So, why tell me now? Don't misunderstand me, Seth. I'm glad you did tell me, and I would be upset if I had ever found out that you had kept it from me. Not because of what happened, but because I would be hurt to have something so important remain a secret between us."
He growled low, but she sensed it wasn't at her, but himself. "I was so angry at David. For murdering that man. What a waste of his life! I still – I don't understand it, Jess. But seeing him at the jail in handcuffs, I got sick to my stomach. I started remembering things that I hadn't thought about for decades. Thinking about our intimate times together – they were good memories, but they're painful now, thinking that the boy I knew is no longer the man I saw last night. Sort of like that David Everett, I gave you grief about knowing him thirty-five years ago not being the same thing as knowing someone for thirty-five years. I came home and made myself so sick, I started vomiting. The more I stewed over it all, the more I judged myself and felt the old shame and judgement that I had felt years ago rise but had long since buried. I couldn't suppress it. I had opened Pandora's box, and I didn't know how to close it. Then, because I know you, I knew I'd have to tell you. You were calling and somehow, you’d figure out something was wrong. I was convinced that once you knew, it would disgust you, and you'd – want nothing more to do with me."
"Hmm, Seth Hazlitt, you don't know me as well as you think you do."
His eyebrows climbed up, waiting, the fear ever present.
"You let your fear control you, but hearing how much you loved David, makes me love you more."
"What?"
"Yes, because darling, as you say, it was the beginning of the 1940s. You fell in love, and you didn't understand it. But instead of letting the fear and shame control you or even worse, lashing out at David or pushing him away because of it, you allowed yourself at a young age to feel and share love with another person. It didn't look like you thought it would or should, but you experienced and shared love. You were courageous, loyal, and very loving, Seth. I can't imagine being in love with anyone better. I'm only sorry that you have shouldered this for so many years alone."
He stared at her, a flicker of hope appearing again. His face was still pale, but he no longer looked as though he would retch. He had allowed her to continue holding his hand, keeping the other hand around his club soda. His voice hoarse, he asked, "You're in love with me?"
"Oh yes, my darling, I certainly am." She wanted to kiss him. She wanted him to take her to bed, but she sensed it wasn't time. He had been sick for over twenty-four hours and didn't have anything in his stomach. He was exhausted, drained, and his shirt was still damp from sweat. "Why don't you go get cleaned up and change clothes, and I'll make us something to eat."
He cleared his throat, nodding in agreement, but wanting to speak about something else first. "Jess, you know I'm in love with you, don't you?"
Her smile widened, making her eyes sparkle. "Oh yes, I do."
He smiled and appeared relieved. It was the first time since before this whole mess with David being discovered as the killer that she had seen any other emotion cross his face besides fear or shame.
"Do you think you can manage eating something? I put away the chicken dish you were preparing. I think you should stick to something easy to chew and swallow. I could make some soup or maybe a baked potato?"
His shoulders relaxed, seeming to finally believe her. Not simply her confirmation of her love for him, but by staying and discussing the mundane details of what he could eat on an unsettled stomach. She wasn't leaving him. "Ayuh, anything you find that's soft and bland, I'll try it. I'll shower and be right out to help."
"Take your time, darling." She stood up and pulled him upright beside her. Reaching for his glass, she leaned over to kiss his cheek. He startled, but he leaned in, smelling her scent, and letting her extend the kiss on his skin. When she pulled away from his cheek, she stayed close, whispering, "Seth?"
"Hmm?"
"You're not going to lose me. Not over this or anything else. I love you and I want to be with you. In every possible way."
The hope had taken root, and his eyes cleared, finally appearing alert and focused. "Jessica Fletcher, I can't believe it. I mean, I do believe you. And I want to be with you in every way. I had hoped that knowing what happened wouldn't change anything, but I was embarrassed and afraid."
Holding his glass with one hand now, she let go of his hand, and with the other cupped his cheek. "I know. But you don't have to be anymore. Alright? I'm not bothered at all. If anything, I love and respect you even more. Thank you for trusting me."
He thought he was finally losing the fight against tears, but he managed to say, "You are the most trustworthy person I've ever known, woman. I'd be lost without you."
"Hmm, well, you are found with me. I’m claiming you. Forevermore. Go take your shower, darling. I'll be waiting in the kitchen." Kissing his cheek one more time, he watched her walk away.
Seth felt the decades of shame fall off his shoulders as he entered the bathroom. Jessica was right. His first experience with love didn't look as he had thought it should, but it had been love. Afterwards, he had been lucky to fall in love and marry Ruth. And now, he had fallen in love for the third time in his life, albeit it happened years ago, and he was only now ready to act on it, with Jessica. Well, he was a blessed man to find such a loving and understanding woman. He wasn't superstitious but if the third time’s the charm, he knew that their relationship would grow into something that would be nothing short of magical.