Prints Charming

by Rebeca Seitz

  He knocked again, and Wilson started his barking. Had Jake heard her tell Wilson to hush? If not, pretending she wasn’t home looked like a very good option. She stood silently at the door, watching them through the peephole. The woman had thick, wavy red hair and was tall. Jake turned to her and said something. She shrugged her shoulders, and they walked off toward the parking lot.

  Don’t they look cozy.

  Why was Jake already seeing another woman? Her mind couldn’t wrap itself around the timing as she sat down at her laptop. The little beep sounded as it booted up. Was there any other explanation?

  She could be his sister, but her luck with men wasn’t that good. Besides, what would his sister have been doing at his apartment on a workday morning? No, might as well face the facts. Telling Jake that she had talked to Bill had scared him off.

  And if he ran off because I was honest, then I don’t need him anyway.

  She glanced at the clock on her laptop. Bill would be here in less than an hour, wanting an answer. Did she have one?

  She slapped her hands down on the desk. Sometimes being a strong, independent female just sucked. As a wife, if her brain was tired after a long day of work, she could leave the decisions about dry cleaning and dinner to Bill. He always supported her like that, taking on tasks when she was at her wit’s end. He never complained about it, just silently brought her a plate of food while she sat at the computer, working to meet a last-minute deadline.

  I miss that. Having someone to help me. That was another reason she married him in the first place. He was always there, helping her at the right moments, turning the ringer off on the phone when she needed some peace and quiet, taking care of little tasks, like changing lightbulbs or getting extra keys made, that she never had time to do.

  He sounds more like a butler than a husband. But wasn’t marriage supposed to be about serving each other? Loving another person enough to put her needs and wants above your own?

  Now that she thought about it, there weren’t too many of Bill’s needs and wants to know. The only thing he’d ever asked of her that she wasn’t ready to give was her hand in marriage. But he had done so much for her, never asking for anything in return, that it only seemed right to marry him.

  The perspective of a year on her own made that logic seem a bit warped. Had she let Bill guilt-trip her into marriage? Why would he want to marry a woman who wasn’t in love with him? And be honest, Jane: you never felt for him what it took Jake two seconds to make you feel.

  Did Bill think she was in love with him? Did Bill love her? Or was she just as much a safety net for him as he had been for her all those years? It was easier to stick with a buddy than jump on the roller coasters of romance and love.

  She needed to move around, get the blood circulating again. “Hey, Wilson, how about a quick trip outside before Bill gets here?” He barked and wagged his tail, running back and forth from the closet to the front door. She snapped his leash on and opened the door.

  Wilson pulled her across the breezeway and down to the water. As he sniffed at the water’s edge, she thought back to her wedding day.

  So many of their friends had come to wish them well. Old teachers and bosses from high school jobs sat right beside current friends and family. When they’d opened wide the sanctuary doors, she could see Bill was startled to see her face rather than Lydia’s coming down the aisle. He never asked her where Lydia had gone. She’d assumed he didn’t want to hurt her. But, with the hindsight of experience, now she wondered if Bill knew Lydia saw him at Cadillac’s. Something to ask him when he gets here.

  Because, if they were getting back together, there would be no unspoken words between them this time. No acting as if it was normal to marry someone she wasn’t in love with or pretending to be in love with him for the sake of their families.

  Playing house was no longer an option.

  Wilson finished his investigation of the bank and let her pull him back to the apartment. She saw Bill walking down the other end of the breezeway as they came up to her door.

  “Hey, good timing.” He held up two bags from Chick-fil-A.

  “Yeah. I thought I’d walk him and put him in his crate so we don’t have an audience while we’re eating.” She pulled out her key and unlocked the apartment.

  He went to the kitchen table and began pulling out food.

  “Crate, Wilson.” The dog obeyed, and she followed him to her bedroom, rewarding him with a dog biscuit.

  “Wish Momma luck.” She scratched his nose through the wires.

  The smell of fresh chicken greeted her as she came into the kitchen. “So, what are we having?”

  “Thought you might want some chicken tenders and a few waffle fries. Is that still one of your favorites?”

  “Yep. Good memory.”

  “It hasn’t been that long, right?”

  She smiled at him. “Right.”

  “How’s your day going?” He handed her a salt packet.

  She tore it open and dumped the white crystals on her fries. “I think I’m about caught up today. And you?”

  “You know how March can be for accountants. I’m snowed under with work from people who wouldn’t know a receipt if it stood up and slapped them in the face.” He grinned at her. “But I’ll muddle through.”

  She took a sip of the lemonade that Chick-fil-A was famous for and returned his smile. “Glad to hear business is going well.”

  “Thanks.”

  They ate in silence for a minute or two.

  “Have you thought any more about us?” Bill said.

  “I’ve been thinking about it a lot.” She swallowed her chicken. “And some questions came up.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, why did you propose to me?”

  He stopped chewing. “What?”

  “Why did you ask me to marry you, the first time?”

  “What kind of a question is that?” He resumed eating.

  “The kind designed to elicit a response. I’ve been thinking about our years together, and we’ve got a lot of history, I’ll admit. But I can’t find a time when our friendship turned to anything else.”

  “Why did it have to turn into something else?”

  “You mean you’re not in love with me?”

  “Wait, I thought we were talking about our friendship.”

  “We were. Are. Just answer my question. Why did you want to marry me?”

  He shrugged. “Why would I not? You’re beautiful, intelligent, successful, and I’ve known you more than half my life.”

  She listened hard but was almost sure he hadn’t said the one thing that mattered.

  “But isn’t that true for you and Lydia as well? Or any one of our friends?”

  His face screwed up in distaste. “Lydia? No. None of our friends compared to you. I’ve always been closer to you than anyone else.”

  Now we’re getting somewhere. “What do you mean ‘closer’?”

  He set his sandwich down and tilted his head in thought.

  “I mean closer. I’ve spent more time talking with you and being with you than anyone else in my life.”

  “And that made you want to marry me?”

  “Yes.” He nodded and went back to his lunch.

  “So you married me because I was your friend, not because you were in love with me.”

  “Why are you all of a sudden so focused on being in love?”

  “I guess my question is, why aren’t you?”

  “Why would I be? That kind of stuff has never mattered to us. We’ve got trust and respect and history. Those are three things the vast majority of marriages in America can’t claim.”

  “I’m not so sure about the trust part. That flew out the door right behind you.”

  He winced. “You’re right. I need to build trust with you again. But that will come with time.”

  “And it doesn’t matter to you that I’m not in love with you and you’re not in love with me?”

  “No. I think y
ou’re putting too much stock in emotions.”

  “Maybe you’re right, but we should have talked about this before we got married. I thought you loved me.”

  “I do love you. I’ve told you that.”

  “I didn’t mean that kind of love. I meant the kind men fight wars over or die for.”

  “I think that’s just in the movies.”

  “So did I, but now I’m thinking I might have been wrong.” Since I met Jake. I’d fight a war for that.

  “What changed your mind?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Meeting people. Talking to them.” Sharing Jake with him seemed too personal. “Anyway, it’s something to think about.”

  “Why?”

  She blinked. “Why what?”

  “Why think about it?

  She threw up her hands in frustration. “Why not? People think about this stuff all day. They make soap operas about it, and movies and songs. It’s a real emotion, Bill. And most people get married to other people they have this feeling for.”

  “But it’s not the only reason to get married.”

  “No, though I think it has to be a reason to get married.”

  “So because I don’t feel some emotion, you think we shouldn’t try to work things out between us?”

  “That’s not the only reason, but it’s a big one.” I guess I’ve made a decision here. “We can be friends, Bill. But that’s all we were ever meant to be.”

  He looked at her for a thousand lifetimes. “Can I do or say anything to change your mind?”

  “I don’t think so. I want you to have someone who’s in love with you and is your friend. I want that for all my friends. And for myself.” She wadded up her trash and put it back in the Chick-fil-A bag.

  “Have you found it?”

  Her hands stilled. “I thought I might have, but it’s over.”

  “What happened?”

  “I told him about you.”

  “What about me?”

  “That I ran into you, that you called, that I went to meet you. He’s had this happen before. I think he decided he’d rather pull away than risk losing me to you.”

  “Sounds like this passion and romance stuff can get very complicated and messy.”

  “It can. That’s what’s so great about it.”

  He stood and put his trash in the bag as well. “The feeling is worth the mess?”

  She thought about the tingling in her hand when Jake held it. The way her heart fluttered when he looked at her. “Yeah, it’s worth it.”

  He put his hand over hers on the table. “Then I hope you get him back.”

  “Me too.”

  “I’m comin’, I’m comin’,” Mac called to the ringing telephone as she bustled across the kitchen floor.

  “Hello?” she said, out of breath.

  “MacKenzie Jones?” The voice was hesitant, unsure, nothing like a police officer or doctor.

  “Yes, this is MacKenzie.”

  “I’m not sure if you’ll remember me. This is Cecil Cloar. From the jail the other night? I spent some time talkin’ with Tabby.”

  “Oh, sure! I remember you. And I got your nice e-mail, too. Thank you for sendin’ it.” Not that she’d had any idea how to respond to it.

  “You’re more than welcome, of course. I was just callin’ to see how Tabby is doin’.”

  “Oh, she’s fine. Still tryin’ to walk the straight and narrow and findin’ it’s a bit harder than she bargained for, you know.”

  Cecil chuckled. “I sure do know. She told me she had a baby?”

  “Lands, yes, a beautiful little chile named LaKesa. She’s the spittin’ image of her momma. Least, that’s what I’m tellin’ her ’til she knows otherwise. No need in her knowin’ she got some of her features from her druggie daddy, right?”

  “Right. Well, I guess I’ll be lettin’ you go. I’m happy to hear Tabby’s doin’ okay.”

  “Well, thank you so much for callin’. I’m sure you’re busy as ever with all those crazies down at the jail.”

  He chuckled again, and it reminded her of Saul.

  “Unfortunately, they do keep a steady stream comin’ in here. But not so steady as I couldn’t find time to have a cup of coffee sometime if you’d be interested.”

  Mac sucked in her breath. Was this man asking her out?

  It’d been so many years since she even thought about romance for herself, the whole idea seemed foreign.

  “I’d like that,” she heard herself say and wondered what she was getting into. Didn’t she have enough to worry about with keeping Tabby on the right path and helping raise Kesa?

  “Well, thank you. They’re bringing somebody new into the jail right now, so I need to go see about that. But I’ll call you again and we’ll figure out the details. All right?”

  “All right. Thank you for callin’.”

  “Thank you for answerin’.”

  She heard the click of the phone and pulled it away from her ear, staring at it in wonder. Cecil Cloar. Now, that had a nice ring to it.

  chapter 25

  That night, Jane decided she needed the Sisters. All three of them had more experience than she did with this love stuff. They could tell her how to fix things with Jake.

  She picked up the phone and called Lydia.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, it’s Jane.”

  “Hey, what’s up?”

  “I need a Sisters meeting. You busy tonight?”

  Lydia giggled. “Not too much. I should be able to get away for an hour or so.”

  “What so funny?”

  “The cable’s off at my house.”

  “And that’s funny?”

  “Let’s just say it’s had a good effect on my marriage.” Lydia hushed someone.

  “Not having cable had a good effect on your m—oh! Am I interrupting something? Geez, woman, turn the ringer off. You don’t have to answer every time the phone rings.”

  “No, no, it’s fine. Why do you need a Sisters meeting?”

  “Bill came over for lunch. I told him I didn’t want us back together.”

  “That’s good. Turnabout’s fair play. So why the meeting?”

  “Jake has another woman.”

  “No, he doesn’t.”

  “Yes, he does. I saw him with her.”

  “Jake is not seeing another woman. He can’t be. I would have to kill him if he were, and murderess, though a very pretty word, is not something I aspire to.”

  “I’m telling you, I saw him with a beautiful redhead.”

  “It’s his sister.”

  “Do we need to reevaluate my luck with men? It’s not his sister.”

  “Did you ask?”

  “No.”

  “Go over there and ask.”

  “Oh, sure, why didn’t I think of that? I’ll just waltz up to his door and ask if his sister is a drop-dead gorgeous redhead, and when he says no, he’ll ask how I know he was with a redhead.

  At which point I will have to admit that I was, indeed, home when he dropped by to introduce me to the new love of his life, but I hid in my bedroom until he left. Sure. That’s the perfect way to handle this.”

  “He brought her to your apartment?”

  “Lydia!”

  “Okay, okay, you’re right. We need a Sisters meeting. Call Mac. I’ll call Mari. Say, nineish? The twins will be in bed by then.”

  “Nine is great. I’ll call Mari. Do you think it’s all right to bug her with this right now?”

  “She’ll probably welcome the distraction. I talked to her a couple of hours ago, and they still hadn’t heard anything.”

  “Okay, see you at Mac’s.”

  She hung up, then dialed Mari.

  “Hola.”

  “Hi, Mari. It’s Jane. Any news?”

  Mari sighed into the phone. “No, nothing yet. The agency says not to worry, though, that it can take several days to reach the orphanage, then get back to somewhere with a working phone.”

  “How are John a
nd Emmy?”

  “We haven’t told Emmy anything’s wrong. No sense worrying her over nothing, right? John’s holding up well. Thanks for asking. I think we’re both driving each other crazy, sitting around here waiting on the phone to ring.”

  “That’s the other reason I’m calling. I wondered if you could come out to Mac’s tonight around nine.”

  “I suppose I could. That’s after Emmy’s bedtime. Why so late? Are we still meeting on Saturday?”

  “Yeah, Saturday is still on. I just have something I need your help with, and I thought it’d be easiest to get us all together at Mac’s. It’s okay if you need to stay home. My love life isn’t nearly as important as hearing something about Andrea.”

  “No, it’s fine. John will be happy to get me out of his hair for a little while, and I’ll have my cell in case the agency calls.”

  “Thanks, Mari.”

  “No thanks needed. You’re a Sister, right?”

  “Right.”

  Jane hung up and looked around her apartment, her gaze landing on the wedding scrapbook sitting by her reading chair.

  I guess I should toss the thing out now. She went over and picked it up. “Our Wedding” was embroidered in silver thread on its black background. This scrapbook had taken six months to complete, and she was proud of the hard work she’d put into it.

  Do I have to throw all that work away?

  Light played off the page protectors inside, and she tilted the book to see the pictures. There were all her aunts and uncles together, smiling for the camera. When would they ever get together again? And here were the cousins. One had died since this picture. One had gotten married. Her roommates from college, old friends from high school, everyone from her life was captured in these pages.

  Is the scrapbook about the people in it or the story of myself I want to tell?

  She snapped the book closed. The Sisters could help her figure this out, too.

  “Okay, ladies, let’s get to what we came here for.” Mac clapped her hands, and all the women looked up. Lydia, Mari, Mac, and Jane all sat around the scrapping table. Eyelets, paper, stamps, letters, embellishments, paper, and pictures lay scattered about, giving testament to their passion.