Home Sweet Home

by Sarah Title

  Grace rested her head on Jane’s shoulder. “I guess.”

  “I would ask you how you feel about all this, but I think finding you oversleeping in a dark room is my answer.”

  “I can’t do it, Jane. He knows I can’t. I told him about Mom and Dad.”

  “You did?” Jane nudged her up, surprised. “You never tell anyone about that.”

  “Well, I told Jake. I thought we understood each other. I thought he got it, that I don’t do love. Friends, yes; sex, yes; love, no.”

  “You sound crazy, you know that? Love is not something you ‘do.’ It’s something that happens between people, whether you want it to or not. Look at me and Dev. Do you think I wanted to fall in love with a guy who lived in a van while he tried to get his prog rock band off the ground? Or whose family didn’t approve of me because I didn’t look like them? Trust me, there was a lot of heartache I could have done without.”

  “But you did it anyway.”

  “Yes, because I’m stubborn, and so are you. And you know what? It worked. Dev lives in a house now, and his family loves me. And I wake up every morning feeling grateful for him and our beautiful daughter. Both of whom are downstairs, by the way. I hope Mr. Bingley is up for some toddler torture.”

  “But what if something happens? What if—” It was too horrible to say out loud. And, possibly, too ridiculous.

  Jane turned to face her sister. “That’s possible. Of course it is. Dev could die, or I could, or he could run off with a groupie, although most of his fans are hipster guys in their twenties, so that’s unlikely. What happened with Mom and Dad was terrible, but it’s not normal. People deal with things and they move on. You and I did it when they died. Well, I dealt with it. I’m seriously questioning your coping mechanisms.”

  “Well, why can’t I deal with this and move on?”

  Jane threw up her hands. “Fine. Do what you want. But look at this.” She pointed to the turret. “This was built by a man who knows you. And if a man like that said he loved me, I would grab him and never look back.”

  “You can quit the smug married business,” Grace said, sullenly. “Not everyone needs to be in a relationship to be happy.”

  “Do you know how badly I want to hit you on the head right now?” Jane asked. Grace took a step back. “I’m not suggesting you stay with Jake because he’s a great guy, although he is. But, Grace, I know you better than anyone. I’ve seen how you are with him. I’ve heard how your voice changes when you talk about him. And if you want to pretend you’re not in love with him, that’s fine. You’ll get over it, probably, but you’ll be an idiot. And then I’ll be the smart one and the entire balance of the universe will be thrown off, but I can’t tell you what to do.”

  “Even though you want to.”

  “Even though I want to.”

  “Even though you sort of just did.”

  Grace could see that Jane was getting pissed off, and part of her wanted to needle her more. She was itching for a fight, or for anything that would keep her mind off Jake.

  Then Jane sighed sadly and turned to leave.

  “I’m scared,” Grace whispered. Jane whirled around and enveloped Grace in a crushing hug. She could barely breathe, but she held onto Jane like a life raft.

  “I know,” Jane said softly. “I was, too. But it’s worth it.”

  Grace hadn’t thought about it that way. Her relationships were always good, and when they stopped being good, they were over. She never thought that the intensity of feeling, the forgiveness and compromise, the danger of heartache, would be worth it. But the good parts with Jake far outweighed the bad.

  He was worth it, definitely. But was he worth it to her? Could she give him her heart, knowing she could lose everything? And, after what she’d put him through yesterday, would he even want it?

  There were forty million people in Grace’s house by the time she showered and came down to help set up. She stood at the bottom of the stairs for a minute, trying to take it all in. Her furniture had been pushed back against the walls, and Missy and Helen were setting up folding tables. As soon as they had the legs down, Mrs. Wallace would waft a tablecloth into place. People—she didn’t recognize some of them—were tracking through the front door, making a beeline for the kitchen.

  “Grace! You’re up! Are you feeling better?” Mary Beth came through with a plastic container full of cupcakes. She stopped in front of Grace. “Have you seen Jake? I haven’t been able to get hold of him. He’s not upstairs, is he?”

  Grace shook her head.

  “Well, he’ll turn up. He promised me he would. Listen, would you mind helping out back? I sent Todd to set up the tables and I’m not sure he understood my diagram.”

  Grace nodded, but it didn’t matter, Mary Beth was already gone. Grace followed her through the kitchen, where the counters were piled high with Tupperware, and Will was shouting that he didn’t have any place to work. She went out the back door, and froze.

  Her back yard had been completely transformed. The lawn was neat, hedges trimmed, and someone had put up small arbors covered in fairy lights. There were paper lanterns strung between the trees, and the soft sounds of the band tuning up wafted on the breeze.

  “Looks great, doesn’t it?” Henry stood at the bottom of her porch steps and offered his hand. She took it and let him lead her through the yard. “Just think how it will look once the sun goes down.”

  “Magical,” Grace said softly.

  “Once I got Todd to stick to the diagram, it all fell into place. The tables are from the Lutherans, the arbors came from a Pembroke storage shed. I’m not sure where the lights came from.”

  “And the yard. It looks so . . . neat.” Her yard never looked neat. She’d meant to get up and do some clean-up, but, well, she’d forgotten all about it.

  “You did a great job with it,” Henry said. “Even Kyle was impressed.”

  “But I didn’t—” But she wasn’t allowed to finish. Henry was leading her over to the dancing area, where Kyle was setting up a row of chairs.

  “Hey, Professor,” he said with a wink.

  Henry rolled his eyes. “He’s been like that all day. I think he thinks he’s charming.”

  Grace shrugged. Kyle was charming in his own goofy way.

  “I wanted to talk to you about something,” Henry said, turning her away from Kyle and the dance floor. He took her hands and, to Grace’s surprise, held on to them. “I meant what I said at the planning meeting.”

  Grace had no idea what he was talking about.

  “I said I wouldn’t dance unless I had the pleasure of the first two dances with you. I know it’s bold, but . . .” he hesitated and looked down at their joined hands. “But I think it’s right. I know you’ve been seeing Jake, but I think . . . I think we are well suited, don’t you?”

  Henry was a suitable man for her. He was calm and focused and they had professional and personal interests in common. He was handsome, and when she looked into his eyes, she saw he was sincere. But that’s all. She didn’t feel anything when she looked at him, except that his hands were getting sweaty and she wished he would let go.

  “That would be nice,” she said, tugging her hands free. “To dance with you,” she clarified.

  “But that’s all?” he asked.

  “I’m sorry, Henry. I just . . .”

  “We’ll just dance, then,” he said, his face brightening.

  Grace wanted to make sure he understood that she wasn’t being coy or leading him on. She really did mean just to dance. But he turned and walked away, and then Todd thrust Mary Beth’s diagram in her face and she spent the rest of the afternoon configuring tables and not thinking about Jake.

  Jake would go to the party. He promised his sister, and he’d never broken a promise to her yet, no matter what it cost him. He would go, do the little dance she taught him, and leave. There would be a crowd—his mom had been downright gleeful as she took the RSVPs—so he could go, dance, and not see Grace at all. Or i
f he did see her, he could just say hi, thanks for the party, and leave and never see her again.

  What he really wanted to do was dance with her, or maybe kiss some sense into her, but he knew that was a fool’s dream. Grace had been absolutely clear with him. She didn’t do love. And if he didn’t get it the first time she told him, he sure got it now.

  He would go to the party. He would dance.

  But he wasn’t wearing a damn costume.

  When Mary Beth had first showed him the bright blue jacket he was supposed to wear, and the breeches and poufy shirt that went under it, he smiled tightly and took them. It was important to Grace, so he’d figured he could dress like a clown for one night. He was no longer feeling so generous.

  So he was surprised to feel out of place as he filed into Grace’s house with the other guests, all of whom were wearing jackets and breeches and dresses and feathers.

  “Dude!” Kyle called, then squeezed through the crowd to get to him. “Where’s your costume?”

  Kyle was wearing a red coat with black lapels and gold trim. He had on the breeches, bright white and stuffed into a pair of tall black boots. And he was wearing a hat. A pointed black hat with a tremendous white feather on it.

  “You look ridiculous,” Jake muttered.

  “I know. Missy wouldn’t let me carry the sword. I mean, what kind of military man goes out without a weapon?”

  Jake shook his head. His friend had lost his mind. Jake tried to feel grateful that he didn’t have a woman to make a fool of himself over. It didn’t quite work.

  “Jake!” Mary Beth pushed through the crowd to him. “What are you wearing?”

  Jake looked down. He had his nice jeans on, at least. And his shirt had a collar. He hadn’t ironed it, but at least it was the kind of shirt that could be ironed.

  “The pants didn’t fit,” he lied. “And I spilled coffee on the jacket.”

  Mary Beth gasped. “That’s borrowed! We have to get that out before it stains—”

  Todd grabbed his wife around the waist before she could run out the door to attend to Jake’s fake-stained jacket. “We’ll worry about it later. Come on, the dancing is starting.”

  Jake rolled his eyes and started to make a snarky comment to Kyle, but his friend was pushing his way through the crowd, shouting to Missy to save him a spot in the line.

  The whole damn town had lost its mind.

  He took his time getting outside, pretending not to see the disapproving looks people threw his way when they saw his clothes. He stopped in the doorway and got elbowed out of the way by a little girl in a bright purple dress. Then he was nearly bowled over by a woman chasing after her.

  “Sorry! Oh, hey Jake.” Jane straightened and squeezed his arm. She looked nice. Her dress was a similar cut to the little girl’s, but Jane’s was light purple and her hair was pulled back off her face. Which gave Jake the perfect view of her look of pity, even through her very modern glasses. “Nice outfit,” she said, then continued her chase after the little girl.

  Jake took the opportunity to follow her down into the crowd. He caught sight of the bright purple girl again, dancing gleefully in the arms of an Indian man wearing a purple jacket. The man met Jane in the middle of the line of dancers, bowed, and backed away while the girl clapped and squealed. Using his brilliant skills of deduction, Jake figured the family dancing together in matching outfits must be Jane’s husband and daughter.

  He was just congratulating himself on not being a total idiot when he saw her. She was wearing a moss-green gown that was cinched below her breasts and flowed down to the floor. Her hair, that unruly mess she never could seem to control, was pinned up elaborately, with flowers woven through. As he got closer, he noticed that they were the wildflowers that grew in her yard. And he noticed the snug fit of her dress, and how the green color made her eyes pop.

  And he was way too close to her for a man who never wanted to talk to her again. At least not tonight. He ducked back into the crowd, but not before receiving a scowl from Henry, who was dancing with her. Jake wanted to tell him not to worry, he wasn’t going to stand in his way. Instead he just stalked off to see whether someone had spiked the punch yet.

  “Jake!” Jake was getting really tired of people shouting his name. And if one more person made a comment about his clothes . . .

  “Whoa, what’s the face for?” Helen asked. She pushed at his chest and he stepped back. “You’re standing on my dress.” She pulled the long blue and white fabric from under his boot.

  “Sorry.”

  She smiled at him. He couldn’t help but smile back. Helen’s enthusiasm was always infectious. Jake regretted that if he and Grace were done, he probably wouldn’t be seeing much of Helen, either. That was too bad. He liked her.

  “I forgive you, but you can make it up to me by dancing.”

  “Oh, no,” Jake said. Dancing meant being far too close to Grace. “I’m not wearing the right clothes.”

  Helen shrugged. “I’m wearing a corset. If I have to suffer, you have to suffer. Besides, Mary Beth told me you learned the steps.”

  He started to object again—he’d look like an idiot out there in his modern clothes, and he had just about enough of looking like an idiot lately—but Helen just took his hand and pulled him toward the dancing. The music stopped and the partners bowed and curtsied, and Jake thought he was off the hook. But the band immediately picked up another song and there was more bowing and curtsying and jostling new partners and new couples into the line.

  “Look who I found!” Helen shouted over the music, squeezing into the space next to Grace. He nodded to Henry, who smirked in response. Jake turned to give a polite nod to Grace, but she was staring at him, her bright eyes clinging to his face. He wanted to pull her aside, ask her what that meant, ask her why she was dancing with Henry, but the music started and they all began to dance.

  Grace couldn’t stop staring at Jake. She tried to focus on Henry or on the steps that she was badly messing up, but she couldn’t shake the awareness of Jake, inches from her. If only she could talk to him, explain how she felt, but every time she passed him, Henry was there, grasping her elbow and bringing her back to the dance.

  She needed to talk to Jake, and she wanted to do it while they danced. That way he couldn’t get away. She turned to Helen, who gave her a questioning look, but didn’t say anything when Grace pulled her in and switched places with her. Henry started to protest, but Helen just shrugged and circled her new partner.

  “Jake,” Grace said in a low voice.

  But Jake just shook his head and kept dancing.

  Grace didn’t know why he was here after she had been so horrible to him. He wasn’t acting like he wanted her back, but he didn’t run away, either. They passed each other on a turn, their hands connecting briefly, and Grace felt electricity shoot through her gloves.

  She was so dumb. She thought she’d explain to him that she still wanted his friendship, and nothing more. But then he touched her and she knew, without a doubt, that she could not settle for that. She loved him. She loved him, and he loved her, and if he would take her back, they could love each other. It was so simple. She was so frustrated with herself and so overwhelmed by her feelings, she couldn’t help the quiet tears that streaked down her cheeks. When she passed Jake next, his eyes widened, but his steps didn’t falter.

  “I love you,” she whispered, as their hands connected and they crossed partners. It didn’t hurt nearly as badly as she thought it would. Her hands were sweating and she thought she was having a panic attack, but it wasn’t too bad.

  This time he did trip, just a little, but kept dancing.

  “Jake, did you hear me?”

  Henry, who was moving past just then, shushed her and gave her a look that said, “Focus on the dance.”

  Grace tried. Really, she did. But Jake kept passing her and they would touch, just for a moment, and she couldn’t wait.

  “I love you for so many reasons,” she started as they
passed again. “You’re generous, and thoughtful.” She turned and faced him, then took a step forward. “I love the way your mind works and”—step back and forward—“that you can look at something that’s broken”—step back and forward—“and figure out immediately how to fix it.” She stepped back, but held his gaze. As they circled each other, she continued, “You’re patient. And you teach me things. And you’re handsome. No, you’re hot. That’s not why I love you, that’s just icing, you know?”

  Grace had a whole list of Jake’s admirable attributes. But, as always, she was getting lost in his muscles. That wasn’t the important part, though. She took a breath, then took another step toward Jake. She was out of time with the music, but this was important. Jane Austen would forgive her.

  “I’m scared. I’m afraid to take this risk, knowing I could lose everything, but you’re worth it. You’re—”

  She fumbled for her words, but couldn’t finish. Partly because she couldn’t breathe, he was holding her so tightly, and partly because even Grace couldn’t talk when Jake was kissing her. In front of all these people. Mrs. Wallace was probably having a heart attack, she thought. Then she didn’t care and stopped thinking and just held on to the man she loved as he lifted her off her feet and spun her around.

  The sound of thunder had Grace pulling back. But it wasn’t thunder, it was applause. This wasn’t the polite applause she expected at the end of the dance. This was thunderous, boot-stomping, cat-calling, Kentucky applause. And she and Jake were in the middle of it.

  He smiled at her, that crooked smile that she had to remember to add to the list of things she loved about him. He pressed his forehead against hers and cupped her face in his hands. “Say it again,” he whispered.

  “I love you, Jake. I’ve been such a fool—”

  “I don’t care. I forgive you. It doesn’t matter. Oh, Grace.” He kissed her again. And again. And again.