Young Jane Young(78)

Something you don’t predict is how your job makes you privy to the secrets of everyone in town. You are a confessor, and you know the town’s sins. For instance, a bride whose wedding you planned said she was a murderer. The woman reminded you of a newborn fawn. Very slender, large eyes, a bit shaky on her feet.

When she was sixteen years old, she was driving a car that crashed into a tree, and the three girls who were her passengers were killed.

She wasn’t drunk, but she may have picked up her phone to send a text message. She couldn’t entirely remember what had happened. People thought she was lying when she said that, but she promised it was true. “I honestly wish I could remember,” she said. “Because then I would know whether to feel guilty or not.”

She tried to kill herself.

She went to a mental hospital for a while.

She recovered.

She met a man, and then she met you.

You asked her the thing she was most looking forward to about her wedding. She told you she was looking forward to having a new name.

“Is that silly?” she said. “Gosh, I think half the point of marrying him for me is that I’ll officially be someone else.”



Only once, in ten years, are you ever confronted about your past, and it’s by the husband of that woman. You use this woman’s secret to keep the husband quiet.

Maybe this is wrong, but he is threatening your livelihood and your and Ruby’s way of life. The husband is ambitious. He has told you several times that he wants to seek political office.

You say to him, “If you tell people about who you think I am, what would it do to me? Maybe people would care? Maybe they wouldn’t? I’m a private citizen and I don’t need anyone to vote for me for anything, you know?”



Three years later, Mrs. Morgan shows up at your office, without a meeting. “I’ve decided you should be the next mayor of Allison Springs,” she says.

“That’s interesting,” you say. “But it’s not possible.”

“Why? What else are you doing?”

“Lots of things. I have a business. I have a daughter. And if you haven’t noticed, I don’t have a partner.”

Mrs. Morgan insists. “I’m never wrong about these things.”

“I don’t have any money for a campaign,” you say.

“I’m loaded,” she says. “And I have tons of rich friends.”

“I don’t want you to waste your money or your rich friends’ money. I have a past,” you say.

“Who doesn’t? Did you murder someone? Did you abuse a child? Were you a drug dealer?”

“No,” you say. “No, no.”

“Did you go to jail?”

“No,” you say.

“Then it sounds like a youthful indiscretion to me, and no one will care,” she says. “Okay, I’ll bite. What did you do that was so bad?”

“I had an affair with a prominent married man when I was in my early twenties.”

She laughs. “Was it super steamy?”

“It was somewhat steamy.”

“Do you still have hot dreams about him?”

“Occasionally,” you say. “Mainly I have dreams where I calmly explain to him why he shouldn’t be sleeping with a girl half his age.”

“No one will care,” Mrs. Morgan says. “NO ONE WILL CARE. Plus, you’re not running for president, though the standards for that office seem pretty low these days, too.”

“Also, I have a daughter and I’m not married,” you say.

“I know,” she says. “I’ve met Ruby. Lovely girl, Ruby.”

“Why me?” you ask. “I’ve got baggage.”

“Because I like you. You’re smart. You know everyone, and people trust and respect you, and in your line of work, I bet you know where a lot of this town’s bodies are buried, and that’s always a good thing. And I’ve lived here for thirty years, paid my share of taxes here, and I’d like to see a lady mayor before I died.”

You know you shouldn’t run for office.

You know it will compromise Ruby.

You know it will put too much scrutiny on you and your past.

You know if you lose, and the secret comes out, it will likely damage your business and your reputation in the community.

On the other hand, you are thirty-seven years old.

You love being Ruby’s mother, but loving Ruby does not stop you from wanting things for yourself.

You know it’s not a national office. It’s not president, or senator, or congressman.

You know it’s not what you imagined when you were young.

Still, it seems like a big thing to be mayor.

You aren’t so very different than when you were twenty years old. Despite everything, you still believe in the power of government to effect positive change. And you’ve come to love this town and the people who live in it. You don’t like the idea of Wes West or a person like him becoming mayor. Wes West is a bully. He bullies his wife. He tried to bully you.

Your grandparents believed in public service. They were taken in by this imperfect country, and they believed they owed something to it in return. To take care of something is to love it.



Your daughter finds out everything, of course, and she reacts in predictable ways. She says she hates you and then she runs away. She leaves you a note, as if that is supposed to be a comfort. She is so young! She has no idea what can happen in the world.