By sbrooks103x, inspired by Jenny Maitland in "Faithful," by Todd172, with permission.
Thanks to Todd172 for his permission to tell Jenny's story and his advice, Crkcppr for Beta reading, and, as always, blackrandl1958 for her sweet inspiration and editing.
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I held it together for as long as I could after the telegram came - for Tommy's sake, more than anything else; but I had always relied on the "Us," John and me together, for my strength. As much as I fought it, I could feel myself sinking into the depths of despair again.
There was no way that I could run the farm by myself, so I had to let most of it lie fallow while Tommy and I stayed at Mrs. Strickland's. Part of the farm was tended by our neighbors under a war-time agricultural program, providing me with a small income, but it wasn't enough to support us so I took a job at the cord factory making bootlaces while Mrs. Strickland watched Tommy.
Every day I fought the depression, but it got harder and harder as I sank down deeper and deeper. My appearance was deteriorating and I barely interacted with anyone except Tommy.
One day I had finally reached my limit, and had decided I just couldn't go on any longer. As I was leaving for work, I bent over, gave Tommy a kiss and whispered, "No matter what happens, remember that I'll love you forever."
The gods must have been smiling at me, for Mrs. Strickland was concerned about me and went to wake Mark up.
Meanwhile, I had reached the factory and tried to open the industrial cord winder, planning on wrapping the cord around my neck and letting the machine do its job. Unfortunately for my plans, but fortunately for my future, the cage door protecting it was locked.
My plans momentarily foiled, I just stood there for a moment. I then noticed the cord cutters on the floor, picked one up and walked unsteadily to the bathroom, locking the door.
I could hear the girls screaming and pounding on the door as I began to make the cuts on my wrists that would take me away from all this pain.
Just as the blood started to flow the door was smashed open and Mark was there. He hesitated just a split second before slapping the cord cutter out of my hands. He gathered up my blood-splattered form and carried me back to the boarding house where Mrs. Strickland bandaged my wrists. Fortunately, I had not reached any of the main veins and I had only caused surface wounds.
As soon as Mrs. Strickland was finished dressing my wounds, Mark took Tommy and me back to the farm.
Mark kept his promise to John, staying with me, watching over me.
He worked almost 20 hours a day between the farm and the factory. When he wasn't working, he was taking care of Tommy or me. At first Mark didn't think that it would be proper to stay at the farm house, so he spent his nights at Mrs. Strickland's; but it soon became obvious that I was in no condition to be by myself. I was such a wreck when he arrived in the morning that he eventually started sleeping on a couch in the hallway near our bedrooms to be better able to keep watch over me, then as I improved he moved to the spare bedroom.
It took me almost a year, but I eventually sought some comfort in his arms; I desperately needed a human touch. At first, we just slept together, with his strong arms wrapped around me, keeping me grounded, keeping me safe, keeping me there for Tommy.
We both tried to fight it, but eventually the physical closeness led to the inevitable: we had sex. As much as I loved Mark as a friend, I just couldn't call it "making love," certainly not like what I had with John.
At first, when I realized I was pregnant I panicked, but Mark calmed me down and reassured me. When Gracie was born, she was so beautiful that I realized that I wasn't worthless, not just another Maitland girl.
I told Mark that I couldn't marry him, that I couldn't betray John like that, despite the disapproving looks from many of the people in town.
Then came the word. John was alive! Mark and I immediately moved to separate bedrooms.
I was terrified! What would he say? What could I say? I had slept with his best friend, I had his baby!
Mrs. Strickland sent a message: John was home, making his way there, to the farm.
Would he accept that I thought he was dead as a valid excuse, that Mark had saved my life? Could I live with the guilt?
We stood there at the open farmhouse door, Gracie in my arms, Mark beside me, and Tommy peeking out from behind me at this near stranger walking towards our house. I was terrified!