Instead, I think I reached out and squeezed his elbow, fast, or something ridiculous like that. Can’t be certain what, the whole thing was a blur.
Pretty sad, really.
On the drive home, I felt a strong urge to call my mother. Strange, because I don’t believe I’ve ever had the desire to call her just to talk.
But there I was, dialing her number on Highway 20 anyway.
As the phone rang, I worried she wouldn’t answer. As far as I knew, she had all sorts of activities lined up on Saturdays. As the phone continued to ring, I debated telling her I’d gone to Albany at all. Back in Lincoln City, I’d told her I couldn’t come this weekend because of work. Well, work certainly hadn’t stopped me from driving seventy miles to see my new…boyfriend? Significant Male? Gentleman caller?
Before I could think better of the whole mother-calling action, I heard her voice. “Hello?”
“Hi,” I said, sounding much more breathless than I’d meant to. I sounded like a bad Marilyn Monroe impersonator.
“Jayne?”
“Yeah, Mom, it’s me.”
“Oh. Good. How are you?”
“I, uh, I broke up with Shane.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Did it just happen?”
“No. Actually, it was on the way back from visiting you.”
“I hope—I hope it wasn’t anything that happened here?”
“Not really. It was just time.”
“Not really sounds a lot like partially yes,” she said drily.
“It became clear that we were going in different directions.”
“You should run for political office.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
She sighed. “I’m not surprised. About you and Shane, that is.”
“You’re not?”
“You seemed like good friends, but there wasn’t…chemistry. Not love chemistry, at any rate.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re not disappointed.”
“He seemed like a nice man, but no.”
“I’m also…seeing…” I exhaled hard. “Someone else.”
“Oh? Was it that boy you met researching your Amish story?”
Wow. She was good. “Yeah. It’s Levi.”
“How do you feel about him?”
“I…” was it possible to know how I felt? I’d hardly known him a few weeks. Had it only been a few weeks? Crazy. “I like him a lot.”
Which was code for, “I can’t stop thinking about him.”
Being new to the whole mom-talk thing, I kept that to myself. I didn’t need her picking out baby names.
Come to think of it, I didn’t know if she was the picking-out-baby-names type.
“I’m very excited for you,” she said.
I licked my lips. “I know I said I’d visit next weekend.”
“If you can’t, we understand.”
“What I’m asking is…can I bring him?”
“Of course!”
“Would that be too weird? What am I saying? Of course it would be too weird. That’s two guys in two weeks.”
“It’s up to you.”
Of course it was. “He wants to meet my family.”
“You lived with his, didn’t you?”
Naturally, she’d have to throw that back too. “I did.”
“Bringing him or not bringing him is your decision. If he’s fine sleeping in a room covered in quilt squares, then he’s welcome to join you.”
I brightened at the mention of quilt squares. “They’re still on the floor?”
“They are. Waiting for you.”
Such faithful quilt squares.
“I’ll talk to Levi.” Who knew? By next week we might have thrown in the towel. “Either way, you’ll definitely have at least one guest next weekend.” A stray thought stuck in my head. “Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Will Beth mock me if I bring over a different man?”
“She wants to see you happy. She really does.”
That so didn’t answer my question.
Or maybe it did.
I called Gemma when I got home. “You go to church, don’t you?”
“Every week. Why?”
“Can I come with you?”
“Of course. You really want to?”
“You know I grew up in the church, right?”
“Jayne, you…you don’t talk about yourself very often.”
I ran a hand through my hair. “I know. I’m sorry. I don’t want to be that person anymore. And that means going back to church. So can I meet you there?”
“You can meet me or I can pick you up.”
“I need to be as independent about this as possible. I need to drive myself.”
“You’re independent, so you’re letting me help you choose a church?”
“It’s a springboard. And no woman is an island.”
“Amen, sister.”
“Save it for church, Gem.”
“Touchy.”
“Nervous. It’s been a crazy day.”
“Like how?”
I told her about my date with Levi.
“Really! Good thing you looked so nice. Are you guys an item now?”
“Working in that direction.”
“Are you terrified?”
I sighed. “Petrified.”
“It’s good for you. Gosh, I can’t remember the last time I felt that way about someone.”
“You’ve had a bit of a dry spell, haven’t you.”
“Like the Sudan.”
“You know,” I said, “Levi has several employees. One of them is really into Star Trek. You guys might hit it off.”
“You’re cruel. Besides, dealing with my family isn’t for the faint of heart.”
“That’s the flip side of growing up with so much great food.”
“Very true. So tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow.”
Heaven help us all.
Chapter 26
I took a nap Sunday afternoon. I’d forgotten how much I loved my post-church naps. When I was growing up, my entire family napped after church. No one emerged before four forty-five.
Church with Gemma went well enough. The pastor was highly educated and highly able to make me uncomfortable with the probing nature of his scripturally based remarks.
But I wasn’t attending church to stay in my comfort zone, so I stayed in my seat.
It’s funny to me how many churches in the last ten years have made the swap from pews to interlocking chairs. While the chairs make it harder to slide into your seat, they are more comfortable and better delineate personal bubbles.
Not that personal bubbles matter much with Gemma’s family. Her Italian father wrapped me in a hug while her French mother air-kissed me on each cheek.
Really, it’s amazing Gemma’s as normal as she is.
Being surrounded by Gemma’s family and multiple siblings made me feel for the briefest moment as though I were back with the Burkholders.
Which made me think of Levi. Thinking of Levi, until recently, had only made me feel guilty.
Now it made me happy. Unabashedly happy.
Even as I lay down for my nap, I couldn’t stop smiling.
My first letter from Sara arrived Monday.
Jayne,
We miss you very much. I had a very nice time at your apartment, although I regret that we could not go to see your friend’s closet. Maybe another time?
Leah and Elizabeth say hello. Things are well here. Father is mending, although he complains about eating fish and not being able to work the farm as much. Mainly the fish. Mother has begun cooking with less butter and fat for the sake of Father’s heart. I think he would rather have another heart attack than give up fat, but I don’t say anything. The boys are complaining about so much fish, but only when Mother is out of the room. They haven’t complained about going fishing more often.
Levi said you’ll be writing an article about us. You aren’t going to write about me thinking about leaving, are you?
I hope that you will visit us sometime. Are you still cutting quilt squares? Have you tried to piece them yet? I’m sure if you called my grandmother, she’d be able to tell you what to do.
It would be nice if you wrote back.
Sara
I smiled and refolded the letter. After a long day of writing and editing written material, hearing from Sara made me miss the Burkholders’ farmhouse.
Things were simpler there. Of course, things were more complicated now that I was seeing Levi. I didn’t know how Martha would feel about me dating, him, but I could guess that in her heart of hearts, she would want him to return to the community. Dating an outsider would hinder that.
I felt I knew Levi well enough to know he had no intention of ever returning, so I couldn’t feel guilty for holding him back. Furthermore, I met him before I met his family.
What would drive me over the edge would be Sara. How do you know when to give the girl-power speech or encourage her to live the life of her ancestors?
I knew I wouldn’t want to live that life. Here I was trying my own version, and already scuff marks had resurfaced on the tile and my shower was turning pink where water pooled. But there was something about knowing that somewhere everything was perfect, orderly, clean. Peace and simplicity reigned in that place, even if it wasn’t here.
Not that I wasn’t trying. I mopped my floor the other day for the first time in eighteen months, and that wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t find the Swiffer commercials so convincing.
I found paper and an envelope in the study.
Dear Sara,
I miss you all terribly. Sorry about all the fish, but from what I hear it really is good for the heart. Don’t worry. I didn’t put anything about your thoughts of leaving into the article. Also, I changed everyone’s names for your privacy.
I’m back at work and wishing I was still baking in your family’s kitchen. However, I did help bake a pie at my mom’s house and surprised everyone. I also started a quilt with my mother; we’ll work on it again this weekend.
You told me about your dreams of designing clothes. That took a lot of trust. I don’t know if Levi’s mentioned it to you, but we’ve decided to try a relationship. I guess we’re dating. I hope you’re okay with that. Levi is a very, very special person. I don’t know how serious we are—or not. We’ve agreed to see what happens. I just wanted you to know.
Give the children hugs for me. I miss all of you.
Jayne
P.S. Don’t worry—I’ve been very careful with my clothes since you left. No missing buttons.
I addressed and stamped the letter, but decided against sealing it. Instead, I walked down the street to the convenience store and picked up a glossy magazine with a “Best Dressed” section before going back home.
Once I was behind closed doors, I perused the pages and found the parts I thought Sara would like most. I pried the staples from the magazine before cutting out the pages.
I folded the contraband to fit inside the letter, slapped on another stamp, and headed outside to the mail drop.
People don’t usually whistle at me when I show up for work, but the next morning I received two before arriving at my cubicle.
Once I saw my desk, I understood why.
“Those are some serious flowers,” said Laura, who apparently decided to make my reaction her next story.
Thing was, she wasn’t exaggerating. On my desk sat a bouquet of a dozen light pink, long stemmed roses.
Upon closer examination, I realized it wasn’t a dozen, but a baker’s dozen. There was a card tucked among the blossoms. I opened it to find a printed message:
Because I couldn’t climb through your window, the least I could do was send you flowers. Have a good day at work.
Levi
I smiled and put the card back into the envelope before sliding it into the top drawer of my desk and away from the prying eyes of my colleagues.
I worked with a roomful of investigative reporters. I knew the only thing stopping Laura from going through my desk was the threat of what I might find in hers if I returned the favor—rumor had it she kept quite the chocolate stash and the odd prescription medication in her left-hand drawer.
Calling Levi at that moment would have provided more fodder for the entertainment section of the office, so I opted to wait until lunchtime rolled around.
It wasn’t raining at noon, so I stepped outside, taking my phone and my jacket with me.
“Did you see your surprise?”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, me and every one of my coworkers.”
“Hope it didn’t bother you.”
“Not too much. Hey, I hope you don’t mind. I told your sister about us.”
“She wrote you already?”
“She did.”
“I don’t mind. She’d have to find out eventually, and she likes you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“I talked to my mom the other day.”
“Always a good way to continue the relationship.”
“She said you’re welcome to come with me this weekend.”
“Only if you want me to.”
A bitter breeze nipped at the edges of my jacket. I tucked my free hand deeper into my pocket. “Sure.”
“You sound excited.”
“It’s the right thing to do.”
“Your decision, Jayne.”
“I mean, I’m feeling kinda pressured here.”
“Whoa, whoa—where is this coming from?”
“You send me a dozen roses—”
“Thirteen. I wanted to be unique.”
“Whatever. Thirteen. You send me this big statement in front of all my coworkers and you think that will smooth the way for you to insinuate yourself into my weekend and my life. What if I’m not ready?”
“Then you’re not ready. And that’s okay.”
“You won’t resent me?” I stepped aside as the door behind me opened and two women from archives emerged from the building, cigarettes in hand.
“Nope.”
“Do you want the flowers back?”
“Jayne, the roses had nothing to do with me meeting your family. I don’t see you often because we don’t live in the same city. The roses were me trying to, I don’t know, make up for that in my clumsy guy way. I told you. I’m not good at dating. I thought girls liked roses.”
“I do like the roses!” I shouted into the phone. The archive ladies backed away even farther.
“The weekend thing is really bothering you, isn’t it.”
My shoulders slumped in defeat. “It feels too fast.”
“And that’s fine.”
“I want you to meet my family.”
“I’d like to. But only when you’re comfortable.”
“Then come with me this weekend.”
“But you don’t want me to.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Why?”
I ran a hand through my hair. “Because I won’t get to see you this weekend otherwise. Because I know it’s the right thing to do. And I want to go to church on Sunday, and Miss Lynnie is getting old, and I know she’d like to meet you.”
“Who’s Miss Lynnie?”
“My Sunday school teacher.”
“And you want me to go to the coast with you this weekend because she’s old and you want me to meet her before she dies.”
“Yes!”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
He was exhausting.
“Why don’t I drive to your place on Friday and bring your bookcase?”
And then he’d go and do nice things like that. “That sounds good.”
“Are you positive?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t want you to feel about the bookcase the way you felt about the roses. This isn’t a manipulative bookcase. It’s a thank-you bookcase.”
“I consider myself adequately thanked. And I li
ke the roses.”
“Miss me?”
I smiled. “Yeah.”
“I miss you too.”
Friday couldn’t arrive soon enough.
I dreaded the arrival of Friday with all my heart.
In the meantime, I finished up part two of the urban garden story with the help of my police insider. Joely was more than willing (for the price of a coconut cupcake) to get me past the red tape and into the initial police reports and list of witnesses present when the crime was reported.
I interviewed community members, took pictures, and wrote up a nice yet haunting story of senseless vandalism to conclude the piece I had written earlier.
Wednesday, I readied my study for the arrival of the new bookcase. I tidied up the papers that managed to cover every flat surface and vacuumed into the corners of the room.
When I finished, the study was spotless. The rest of the apartment was not.
I don’t know where all the clutter came from. Seriously. I was a professional, not a slob. Maybe little messy elves came out when I slept. I don’t know how else my jackets found themselves stacked up on the chair by the door, and how I’d taken to playing a round of hide-and-seek every morning with my keys, finding them under banana peels or inside my laundry closet.
When did I last buy bananas, anyway?
Thursday I came up with the brilliant idea of cooking dinner for Levi before we left for the coast.
Martha cooked dinner every day after spending the day working—why couldn’t I? I tracked down Gemma that afternoon at her desk.
“Got a minute?”
“Always.” Gemma turned her chair around and folded her hands in her lap. “What’s up?”
“I want to make dinner.”
“Noble.”
“Tomorrow. After work. For Levi.”
“Oh.” She thought for a moment. “Oh.”
“Stop saying that.”
“You’re cooking for a man.”
“Which means he’ll eat anything in large quantities, right?”
“Usually. Not always. If he’s related to me, yes, but I’ve never seen Levi eat.”
“Do you have to observe someone eating before you can cook for them? Are there hidden cameras involved?”
Plain Jayne Page 21