Jane Doe(68)

“I’m sorry.”

“It was constant uncertainty. We were always on edge, waiting for her next idea or explosion or plan. All I wanted was some quiet.”

“I bet.” I’d lived with chaos too, though even that wasn’t constant. Nothing was. You could never let your guard down. It was like being at war from the time you were born.

“Then my dad had a heart attack when I was in college. I know the stress of living with her killed him. I know it. But after the funeral all she could do was rage about how he’d left her. How selfish he was. She called him selfish for dying. We’d just lost our father, and it was all about her. It was always all about her.”

“Is that when you stopped going back?”

“Yes.”

“And your brother?”

“He still talks to her. He’s nicer than I am, I guess.”

“You might see her when her grandchild is born.”

“Yeah. I’m older now. I’m hoping I can tune her out or keep some emotional distance.”

“Maybe.” I don’t really believe this. People don’t change.

His hand is around my ankle again, squeezing gently. “Whatever it is about you, Jane—whatever makes you different—I like that. The calm. The logic. Maybe you’re a little cool sometimes, but that makes me happy. And if you leave, I’m going to miss it like crazy.”

This is so strange. I don’t know what to say to him. Lovers have said romantic things to me before. They’ve even declared love, but this is different. I never believed them. I could see why they were saying it and what they wanted. I knew they were lying to me or maybe to themselves.

But for some reason I believe Luke. And he’s not even professing love; he’s just saying that he likes me.

No one likes me. Not with Meg gone. No one should like me.

I have no idea what to do with this. People don’t change, and that includes me. I couldn’t settle down with a man if I wanted to. Could I? “I have a job,” I say. “A life.” But I don’t have a life—not really. My real life died with Meg.

“I know you can’t stay.” He sighs and lets his head fall back on the couch. “I know that, but I really, really wish you could.”

I like being with him the same way I liked being with Meg. I almost wish I could stay too.

“Maybe I can visit,” I suggest. But he’s a cute, nice guy. He’ll find someone else, and he might not even be willing to cheat on her when I come to town. “We can stay in touch.”

“Sure.”

He’s looking up at the ceiling, his thumb gliding absently over my skin. His eyes look sad and tired. I try to think of something to say that might cheer him up.

“Do you want to have sex?” I ask.

“Jane . . . you . . .” Luke squeezes his eyes shut and laughs. “Yes, damn it. Yes, I want to have sex.”

I climb onto his lap and kiss him until he doesn’t look sad anymore. It’s all I know to do. And it works for a little while.





CHAPTER 44

It’s finally Bible study night!

Steven agreed to bring me, but only after I cornered him in the hallway at work and started to cry.

“I haven’t been ignoring you!” he insisted. “I’ve been busy, that’s all.”

Busy making me feel like worthless crap.

Anyway, my pleading worked its magic. I expressed regret for whatever imaginary infraction I’d committed, and now he can be nice to me again.

“Can I spend the night?” I asked in a quavering voice, and a pleased smile spread over his face.

“Of course you can spend the night, babe. And we can grab dinner on the drive out.”

I’m back in his good graces.

Dinner was deli sandwiches eaten in a hurry, and Steven’s breath smells like raw onions now, but I still feel like a princess as I hop out of his SUV and glide toward the big glass doors of the church. It’s drizzling and miserable, and I take that as a good sign.

Once we’re inside, I remove my bulky coat and unwind my scarf to expose my pink flowery dress and lace-trimmed neckline. Catching sight of myself in the glass entryway, I touch the gold cross nestled just below the hollow of my neck and smile.

Steven tells me to find a seat, and I pick one in the first row where the deacons normally sit during services. Tonight is less formal. No suits for the men and no hierarchical seating. It’s almost seven, and fewer than a hundred people are gathered in the hall. Steven tells me we’ll have a short service and then break up into smaller groups for discussion until 8:30. Then we’ll go home and Steven will finally make me so, so happy.

When he enters the hall with his father, I wave in happy greeting. Pastor Hepsworth’s gaze falls immediately to the cross at my neck. His mouth twitches into a frown, but he recovers and returns my wave. I clasp my hands in my lap and eagerly await the mini-sermon.

Steven joins me in the front row. He pats my hand. “It’s nice having you here,” he whispers.

“Thank you for bringing me,” I whisper back. “I’ve missed you. It was nice being all alone with you last weekend.”

“We’ll be all alone tonight,” he says with a wink.

“Stop!” I scold, covering my face in embarrassment. “Don’t talk about that here!”