Proxy Bride (The Lindstroms Book 1)

by Katy Paige

  “You don’t know for sure that would happen, Jen.”

  “I do, Maggie. I can’t live that life. Dressing up for parties, drinking, living in an apartment, in a city. What would I even do there? I’d be frightened of the city, paralyzed by the strangeness. It would kill the magic.”

  “Isn’t it possible that it’s better than this?” Maggie had asked, palms open in supplication, gesturing to Jenny’s life, her sadness, her longing.

  “I couldn’t bear to kill it,” she had whispered. “I’d rather have the memories. They’ll fade. Eventually they’ll fade. I just have to keep moving until then.”

  Maggie had smiled at her then, covering Jenny’s hands with her own, the lilt of her soft accent comforting in Jenny’s ears. “Then how about a girls’ weekend? You and me? Great Falls?”

  For the first time since Sam had left, Jenny smiled, grateful for Maggie. She nodded. “Okay.”

  “Next weekend,” promised Maggie. “You and me.”

  ***

  It turned out a girls’ weekend didn’t solve all her problems, but at least it distanced her from them.

  Maggie was good company on the drive north, changing the music, pointing at scenery out the window, and making Jenny tell her all about the towns they traveled through. She didn’t ask about Sam, and Jenny was relieved not to talk about him. She couldn’t escape the near-constant sense of loss she felt, but at least she didn’t have to talk about it too, which inevitably brought on more embarrassing, painful tears.

  They checked into the Comfort Inn, and Maggie decided to take a short nap before they headed to the Great Falls Symphony that evening to hear “Hallelujah Holidays,” which would include the city chorus singing parts of Handel’s Messiah. Feeling energized for the first time since Sam left her, Jenny couldn’t bear to stay cooped up in the hotel room. She bundled up to take a walk and told Maggie she’d be back later to grab some dinner before the concert.

  “Jen,” started Maggie, pulling back the covers on her bed. “I thought of somethin’. Life is about gray areas. Black and white is more comfortable, but gray is more realistic. Visitin’ Sam doesn’t have to mean leadin’ him on. You don’t have to promise anythin’. Hell, you’ve been upfront about who you are and what you want. You could see him and come back. Just visit.”

  Jenny zipped up her coat and slung her bag over her shoulder. “Maggie, what good would it do? We’d fall for each other harder, and when I’d have to leave, we’d be exactly where we were before I visited. Exactly where we are now but worse. In that way, I think it would be leading him on, Maggie. Unless I was prepared to stay.”

  She yawned loudly, pulling the comforter up to her neck and snuggling under. “It’s not leadin’ him on if you’re honest. ‘I would never move here, but I came here to see you.’ I guess what bothers me is by not goin’ at all, you’re sayin’ it’s over. And we both know it’s not over. You can let it die, Jenny. It’ll die eventually. But why wouldn’t you give it a chance?”

  Jenny stared at Maggie for a moment, then looked down her feet in thought.

  “Can I say one more thing?”

  Jenny looked up and nodded.

  “I think maybe you’re just scared of leavin’. You say it’s about losin’ the magic. I don’t think that’s all of it. You came home to your sick mum. And maybe you’re just holdin’ on to your da and the boys a wee bit too tightly, Jen. Maybe you think sayin’ good-bye to them is worse than sayin’ good-bye to Sam. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but I think it’s worth a look.”

  Maggie flipped over, and a moment later, her breathing was even and deep.

  Jenny stood frozen in the same spot for a good few minutes, thinking about everything Maggie said. Then she turned and walked out the door, closing it gingerly behind her.

  ***

  Exiting the front of the hotel onto Tenth Avenue, Jenny decided to walk down the street to her old alma mater, the University of Great Falls. At an unhurried pace, she enjoyed the activity of the small city. What a difference from Gardiner, which only had a handful of shops. Everywhere she turned, there was something else to see, much of it new in the three short years since she had attended college here. A new Target, Hastings Entertainment, Riddle’s Jewelry. She looked in the shop windows, most of them decorated merrily for Christmas with fake buffalo snow and cheerful lights.

  By virtue of its location—three hours from Glacier National Park and five hours from Yellowstone—Great Falls wasn’t reliant on tourism. This excepted Great Falls from pandering to tourists like many cities in Montana and meant that it had the stores and amenities it needed for its citizens rather than transient visitors. It gave Great Falls a solid, year-round feeling that Gardiner frankly lacked with its heavy reliance on the mostly summer tourist trade. She passed a Starbucks and treated herself to a pumpkin-spice latte, then kept walking, her thoughts naturally turning to Sam, as they always did lately.

  How could she have known that the moment he walked into the Livingston Courthouse would be one of the most important moments of her life? She thought of him, so handsome and slick in the little lobby. She’d been so angry at him, and he’d teased her back into a good mood, treating her with such care and kindness when her car skidded off the road, taking her to dinner, staying in Gardiner. She thought of the omelet debacle and how gracious he had been—merry, even, and understanding. She remembered him sitting on the bench at school looking out at the football field, looking so dejected. Jenny smiled. That’s when she knew with certainty he liked her as much as she liked him. It had been a revelation.

  The cold wind whipped into her face, and she quickened her pace toward the university. Unbidden, her mind turned to his face when she’d opened her apartment door to him the night of the Stroll. He had looked her up and down hungrily and kissed her a few minutes later. She had wanted him to, but the shivers of pleasure she felt at the time had been new to her in every way, surprising and addictive.

  She smiled to herself, thinking of his warm hands laced through hers at the Stroll and his stunned dismay when he realized he had blurted out that he wanted to have children with her someday. She hugged herself as she walked along, remembering his wide eyes as he was backpedaling like crazy. Even visiting Yellowstone with him, despite how the day ended, had been magical, she thought, remembering their easy conversation and the story of how his parents fell in love.

  For the first time since he left, she didn’t cry as she sorted through their memories. She still wasn’t sure of herself, but at least her eyes weren’t burning with tears on cue. She thought of Maggie’s words. Why wouldn’t she just go to Chicago? Why couldn’t she just go? Was it because she was scared? She swallowed as she evaluated these questions and realized Maggie’s words held truth. While she was here in Great Falls, her mother had succumbed to cancer. Lord only knows what could happen if she went as far as Chicago.

  Even as she articulated these thoughts to herself, she knew they didn’t really make sense. Staying in Gardiner wasn’t going to prevent her father or the boys from getting sick or hurt. Sam said Gardiner was where she went to “hide her head in the sand” and “give up.” She frowned, walking even more briskly.

  How come his words about giving up and selling out haunted her so much? Had she given up? Had she sold out? Was she a coward? Her mother had hidden her illness from Jenny specifically so she would stay in Great Falls and make a life for herself there, but in the end, she’d turned her back on that life.

  I went home to care for Mamma, but I stayed home out of fear.

  She had given up on her dreams of a life in Great Falls because she was afraid. And she was holding onto her brothers and father too tightly even now. She was scared to leave them.

  Was that the real reason she didn’t go to Chicago with Sam? Fear? Was she allowing fear to immobilize her?

  “No!” she exclaimed aloud, bristling against the weakness of it.

  My life is in Gardiner, she reasoned. My family, my job, my church, my apartment, my
friends. It’s not about fear. It’s about being settled somewhere. But another voice intervened: Stop kidding yourself. It’s about fear, and in your gut, you know it. If you weren’t so afraid, you’d see that you could have left your job, your church, your apartment, and your friends, Jenny. You could have left them all behind for Sam.

  Then she pictured the faces of her father and brothers in her mind, and like a punch in the gut, she felt the strength of her fear. She furrowed her brow, walking so fast now, the cold air burned her lungs, and her hands sweated in her mittens, even though it was only twenty-three degrees.

  I’m not weak! I’m not the sort of person who lets fear hold dominion over her life! That small, soft voice in her head answered back, But you did. You pushed him away because you were scared to leave Gardiner.

  Somewhere deep inside of her, she’d determined, consciously or unconsciously, that staying in Gardiner would keep her safe. That being close to her brothers and father meant she wouldn’t experience the sort of heartbreak that had accompanied her mother’s death.

  But it hadn’t worked.

  Because every day away from Sam made her heart feel like it was breaking.

  Could it be that the very choice you made to protect yourself is the one that will cause the worst heartache of all?

  She continued into the small campus, walking the familiar paths without enjoying them at all. She brushed some snow off a bench with her mittened hand and sipped the last bit of her now-cold latte. She took off her mitten and wiped a droplet from her lip with her bare finger and let her finger linger there for a moment, remembering the final kiss they had shared after the vows. He had held her flush to his body, unyielding, demanding, and even in the desperation of the moment, she couldn’t deny how perfectly they’d fit together.

  Her shoulders rolled forward and she crumpled with her chin to her chest, defeated. A searing, certain sadness confirmed without a shadow of doubt that she had made a mistake. In letting Sam go, she had allowed fear to choose her path for her, and she knew with a brutal, heart-wrenching certainty that losing him would be the biggest mistake of her life.

  Oh, my God! Help! Help me figure out what to do. Help me have the courage to do it. And please don’t let it be too late when I’m ready.

  She put her mitten back on and hugged herself. Her spirits lifted with a new, growing patch of peace in her heart, which reinforced she was on the right path to figuring this out.

  No more crying now, Jenny. Go home. Have Christmas. Figure out what to do, and then do it.

  ***

  “Children, please listen. Please quiet down. I shouldn’t have to say that more than once. Please.” Jenny clasped her hands together, a forced, cheerful smile animating her tired face. “That was a very good dress rehearsal. You should feel very proud of yourselves. I certainly am. Give yourselves a hand.”

  The students clapped and high-fived each other, gathered around Jenny in the cafeteria, which would serve as an auditorium tomorrow night.

  “Freshmen, please remember, black pants and white tops. Sophomores, black pants and red or green tops. If anyone needs to borrow something, please see me before you go tonight, and we’ll figure it out.

  “Sarah, Mr. Ashby wants you to stay after to practice that solo one last time.

  “Senior girls, please stop by my classroom tomorrow after third period. We need to figure out once and for all if it’ll be ‘The Christmas Canon’ or ‘The Peace Carol’ for your encore—we simply don’t have time for both. And you need to decide what you’re wearing by tomorrow. I see you rolling your eyes, Amanda. Let’s be respectful, please.

  “Thank you, everyone, for your efforts and for staying late tonight. Please work on those ‘Silent Night’ verses for our big finale, okay? I’ll see you all tomorrow!”

  She barely noticed the hum of conversations and giggles as the children shrugged into their coats, faces merry with Christmas cheer. Jenny turned back to the table where she had music and notes in an unruly pile. She sorted the papers into a neat stack, placing them in a folder labeled “Christmas Concert.” She turned and waved good-bye to the last teenagers walking out the door of the cafeteria, leaving the room peaceful and quiet after the two-hour-long dress rehearsal with so many active adolescents to corral.

  Exhausted, she sat down in the folding chair at the table, rubbing her pounding temples with her fingers and closing her eyes. Trying to stay busy and distracted was sapping whatever strength she had, and she fell into bed at night like an old lady.

  Out of nowhere, she saw Sam’s face in her mind that morning at church. Morning, Pretty Girl…She clenched her eyes tightly against the tears beginning to prickle. No more crying, Jenny. You promised.

  She crossed her arms over her chest, hands holding opposite arms. She breathed deeply in and out, taking her time, finding her mother’s face in her mind and focusing on it. She kept her eyes tightly closed. Noen elsket meg en gang. Someone loved me once. But the image of her mother’s face faded like a watercolor and was replaced in sharp detail with Sam’s, and she saw his eyes—warm and brown, intense and tender—holding hers as she whispered Ingrid’s vows. She leaned into the memory, into the selfless, solid reassurance he had offered her that moment.

  I miss him.

  The pull to be with him—to go to him, if that’s what it would take—was getting stronger and more certain with every passing day.

  “Jenny?”

  She lowered her hands and opened her eyes slowly, remembering where she was. It took her a second to focus on Paul’s face in the dim light of the empty cafeteria.

  He was squatting down next to her, and Lord only knew how long he’d been there. He looked up at her, regarding her seriously.

  She mustered a slight smile. “Hey, Paul.”

  “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, offering him a sad smile. “I’m okay.”

  He took a deep breath and sighed, tilting his head to the side, assessing her with worried eyes. “It’s been almost three weeks since I really saw you smile. I’m concerned about you.”

  “You don’t need to be. I’m fine, Paul. Really, I am. Just so busy lately with the concert and the pageant at church. I’m just a little tired.”

  “I stopped in for the last few minutes of the rehearsal. It looked amazing.”

  “Yeah. I think it’s really good.”

  “Best Christmas concert we’ve ever had, Jen. Thanks to you.” He said this gently and reached over to cover her hand with his. She pulled hers away almost instantly, folding them together in her lap.

  He narrowed his eyes for a moment, then looked down, nodding. “Jenny, I know I made things awkward between us. But more than anything, I care about you, and I want to be here for you. You know, I used to be a guidance counselor before I took this job as principal. I’m a good listener. Whatever you need.”

  I need Sam.

  Her eyes brightened with tears, touched by his kindness. She knew his feelings for her were deeper than friendship, but he was setting them aside because he cared for her. “I’m just trying to figure things out.”

  “Jenny, everything new gets old. It will fade. Eventually. I promise.”

  She nodded, biting her lip and looking down at her folded hands. Paul’s words, meant to comfort her, did just the opposite. She winced as her heart ached at the future Paul outlined for her. She didn’t want her feelings for Sam to get old. She didn’t want for them to fade.

  The days were dwindling down. School break would start tomorrow. Then Christmas. Then…well, she was still figuring out what her next move would be, but she was getting there. In the meantime, she simply missed him.

  She whispered, “His absence is like the sky, spread over everything.”

  “C. S. Lewis?”

  She looked up at him, giving him a tired grin. “The very one.”

  “I hate to see you like this.” He stared at her intently, then breathed deeply, standing up and changing the subject. “It’s late. Let me take you out f
or dinner.”

  She raised her eyebrows, cocking her head to the side with a meaningful look. “No, Paul. I don’t think that’s such a good—”

  He put up his palms face out, interrupting her. “Work colleague. Guidance counselor. Good listener. Family friend. Nothing else. I promise.”

  Jenny sighed, nodding warily. “Okay. Dinner. Let me go freshen up.”

  ***

  It wasn’t Paul’s fault. It wasn’t him. It was just that Jenny didn’t want much to be around anyone—anyone who wasn’t Sam—and taking her to the Grizzly Guzzle Grill, where she and Sam had dined before the Christmas tree lighting, didn’t help either. When Paul pulled into the parking lot, Jenny almost said something but decided it wasn’t worth it to leave and go somewhere else.

  Lars waved as they walked in, raising his eyebrows in surprise to see his best friend with his sister, and for the second time in three weeks, two Cokes appeared at their table after they sat down.

  “I’m really glad we’re doing this.” Paul smiled at Jenny over his menu.

  “Thank you.” Jenny nodded politely. “Unfortunately, I think we’re giving Lars something to talk about.”

  “Nah. He knows we’re just friends.”

  They sat in silence for another minute, each deciding what they would have. Finally Jenny put down her menu, and Paul put his on top of hers.

  “Jen, I’m sorry you’re so down. He had no right to lead you on.”

  Jenny looked at Paul’s handsome face, his coloring so much like her own. His eyes were earnest and worried. It would be so much easier if I could just love you, Paul.

  “He didn’t lead me on. He didn’t make any promises he didn’t keep. He asked me to come to Chicago.”

  “You said no?”

  “I did.” Jenny took a sip of her pop.

  “I was sure that he…” Paul’s eyes narrowed, staring at Jenny in surprise. He shook his head in confusion. “I don’t understand, Jenny. You seem so sad.”