Looking for Jane (98)

“Good to see you, Nancy,” he says in a rather formal way, as though they’re old work colleagues and nothing more. In a way, they are. Between monitoring finances, scheduling extracurricular activities, and the never-ending stream of logistical planning required for both the present and future, a good percentage of marriage is just business management.

“You, too, Mike.” Nancy sits back down and clears her throat. “I ordered you a coffee. It should be here in a sec. You still take it two creams, right?”

Michael smiles without showing his teeth. “Yup. Thanks.”

The coffee arrives a moment later and the barista shuffles off.

Nancy forces herself to make eye contact with her ex-husband. They haven’t been alone together in a long time.

“So, thanks for coming to meet me,” she begins. “Katherine told me that I should maybe contact you. That you had said some things to her that made her think we should… talk.”

Michael shifts in his seat and his eyes dart toward the door of the café. She hopes he isn’t thinking of leaving.

“Yeah. I probably shouldn’t have said anything. It was over Christmas, and you know, Christmas. It’s packed full of nostalgia. My mom had just died, and on her way out she got me thinking about the past. Reviewing things, you know.”

Nancy nods, thinking of her own grandmama.

The Past, my dear.

He runs his hand over the table, flicks a crumb off the surface, and Nancy resists the urge to reach out for his hand. “Having Katherine there with me, but without you, it just, it felt like something was missing. Katherine asked if I was okay. She’s pretty intuitive.”

Nancy smiles. “Yes, she is.”

“And I guess I told her—” He fidgets with the mug handle, then looks at Nancy. “I told her I had been thinking about you, and, I don’t know, maybe wishing things could be more like they were before.”

Nancy takes a sip of her tea, considering. “Hmm. She’s not very good at keeping secrets, is she? Good girl,” she adds in an undertone.

Michael exhales a small chuckle. “No.”

“Not like her mother,” Nancy says. She didn’t intend to blurt it out like that. But then, she supposes that’s why she asked Michael to meet with her, so maybe it’s best to just spit it out. “The thing is, Mike, I don’t think you ever really knew me at all,” Nancy says through a thick throat. “And that’s my fault. I own that.”

Michael sighs heavily, eyes falling to his hands clasped around the glass mug. The memories of other sighs, of love and pleasure and mutual adoration of their child, echo back at her across the table.

“Mike—”

“I’ve really missed you, Nance.”

They hold their breath and absorb what he’s just admitted. What it might mean for them both. The spring wind whispers through the leaves of the trees in the park next to the café. The trees that, in a few short months, will turn red and gold in one last spectacular curtain call before the bitter winter strips them bare.

All of this is fleeting, it says. There’s no more time to waste…

Nancy’s having a reckless week, agreeing to meet with her birth mother’s friend and maybe get some closure there, and now stumbling through a desperate reconciliation with her ex-husband. She might as well tell him how she’s truly feeing. Nancy licks her lips and glances up at Michael, then sees Katherine in the clear blue of his eyes. The child that binds them together, no matter what.

“Oh, Mike. I miss you, too. So much.”

She reaches across the table and squeezes the tops of his hands with her own. She remembers holding his hands like this all those years ago when they slid golden rings onto each other’s fingers and vowed to always be honest and true.

Nancy wasn’t.

She holds his gaze and forces herself to not let go.

“I need to tell you about Jane.”





CHAPTER 28 Angela




SPRING 2017




“Brownies, from Harbord’s!”

Angela presents the neat white box to Evelyn as soon as the older woman opens the door. Evelyn cradles it in her hands. “Oh, you wonderful woman! Walnuts?”

“Of course not. I’m insulted you would even suggest such sacrilege. What self-respecting brownie allows its fudgy splendour to be ruined by nuts?” Angela cocks one sarcastic eyebrow.

“I knew I liked you.” Evelyn beckons Angela across the threshold and shoulders the stiff door shut on the street.

The smell of the bakery nearly made Angela vomit, but she persevered, determined to make up for what in retrospect she feels was a somewhat disastrous first meeting a few weeks ago.

They climb the creaky stairs to the second-floor apartment and Evelyn closes the door behind them. “I’ll put the kettle on for coffee.” She smiles at Angela. “Have a seat.”

Angela settles herself down on the squishy cream-coloured couch near the window. Evelyn has the curtains open today to tempt in the fresh spring air. The scent from a clutch of deep purple lilacs in a vase on the windowsill wafts into the room, as though to underline the fact that winter is finally passed and the blooms will have their time in the spotlight now.

“How did you get the lilacs?” Angela asks. “I didn’t see any trees around here. Thank you!” she adds, as Evelyn hands her a plate. She’ll get through what she can of the brownie, though sweets make her stomach churn these days.