Part Three
Last Comes Love
Chapter Seventy-Eight
Holding the phone in the crook of her neck, Jane glanced at the flight times on her September calendar. She needed to hurry.
“I haven’t changed my mind, Mom.” Jane rushed around, shoving things in the diaper bag, grabbing a couple of bottles from the fridge. “I’ll be fine, and I’ll be that way because Maddie is with me.”
“But you’ve never traveled with a baby,” her mother protested. “And a six-hour flight—”
“She’s all I’ve got left, and I can’t bear the thought of being away from her for three days. Besides—” Jane stopped. Leaning on the counter, she took a deep, steadying breath.
I will not cry. I will not cry, she thought fiercely. She spoke into the phone again. “Mom, you and Dad have been wonderful. Everyone has. I couldn’t have made it through the last few weeks without such a great family. But I have to do this, and taking Madison with me is the right thing. I want to be able to tell her about her father someday, to have her know she was there to honor his name.” Jane paused, expecting to hear her mother agree with her. Instead Marsha protested again.
“She’ll never remember, Jane. And Washington D.C. is no place for a baby.”
“It’s more than bringing her to honor Peter,” Jane admitted quietly. “Taking care of Madison helps keep me focused on what I have—not what I’ve lost. I’m afraid if I stop—even for a day or two—I’ll fall apart.” Jane listened as her mom finally accepted her decision and dished out some last-minute travel advice.
“Love you too, Mom. I’ve got to go or I’ll miss the ferry. Don’t worry about us. I’ll call you when we land. We’ll both be okay.” Going to the bedroom to retrieve her suitcase, Jane prayed she was right.
* * *
Jay felt his heart pounding as he walked down the aisle to the last row of seats. Since seeing the for-sale sign in Jane’s yard two months earlier, he hadn’t been certain she’d be on the ferry this morning. But, early and predictable as she always was, Jane sat in the far seat by the window, her back to him. Her brown hair was longer than it had been a year ago, and it lay smooth and shiny, pulled back in a simple ponytail at the nape of her neck. He allowed himself a brief fantasy of untying the yellow ribbon that held it in place and running his fingers through the silky tresses as they sprang free.
Instead, he sat down opposite her, on the far end of the row, near the aisle. He would wait for her to notice him. Unfortunately, after several minutes, it became apparent Jane’s mind was elsewhere. She wasn’t looking anywhere but out the window or occasionally at the toddler in her lap.
Jay chuckled to himself. Apparently, Jane had remembered he’d told her to bring her sister and/or her sister’s kids for protection. He glanced around the ferry but didn’t see any sign of Jane’s sister—and he was pretty sure he’d recognize her. It was difficult to forget the face he’d seen staring him down from the other side of a minivan steering wheel. Her voice was etched on his memory as well—it had scared him when, gunning the engine, she’d rolled down the window and threatened to run him over if he ever went near Jane again. He was pretty certain she’d meant it. As she drove off, the driver’s side mirror had nicked him, and one of her kids had thrown a rock out the window that hit him in the legs.
Jay scowled at the memory. The little girl on Jane’s lap looked harmless enough though, so he decided to take his chances before the ferry ride was over. Standing, he glanced down at his suit coat to make sure it was buttoned right and his tie was straight. Quickly he crossed to the other side of seats and walked toward the window.
He eased into the seat beside her. “Hello, Jane.”
She turned to him, confusion in her eyes for an instant before recognition dawned.
“Jay?”
He’d succeeded in surprising her. He reveled in the moment as she took in his appearance—from his short hair and his suit down to his polished wingtips.
“I’m glad you remembered,” he said. “A year is a long time, and I was afraid you might have forgotten—or met someone—any number of things,” he rambled on. “But you’re here, and you look fantastic.” He caught her gaze. “Gorgeous, actually. Ravishing.”
“I—” She looked like she was about to cry. “You look—different. Nice. Great.”
She seemed to be having trouble putting words together, and he took that as a good sign. “I see you don’t have the personals with you like last year. I’m glad. You deserve better than that, Jane.” He saw her stiffen and he quickly changed tactics. Glancing at the little girl on her lap, he asked. “Whose baby?”
Jane’s eyes flooded with tears. “Mine.”
“You’re joking, right?” But even as he said it, he knew she wasn’t. He tried to hide his own shock and resisted the impulse to wipe away the tear trailing down her cheek. “Um . . . last year—when we met on the ferry—you never said anything about a kid.”
“Your fault,” she managed to choke out.
As baffled by her tears as he was her baby, Jay tried to lighten the sudden and serious turn their conversation had taken. “Hey, I’d love to take the credit, but believe me, I’d remember if I was involved in anything like that.” It’s been my fantasy for how long?
Jane didn’t laugh, or even smile. “Your fault,” she repeated as a full-fledged sob escaped her throat. “You teased me, so I answered an ad in the personals.” Her tear-filled eyes met his.
“And now, I’m a widow and a mother.”
* * *
Jay shut the driver’s side door of the Jeep and leaned in close to Jane. “I’m going to follow you to the airport,” he said. “Just to make sure you’re all right.”
“You don’t have to—really,” she assured him.
“I’m going there myself.” He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew his itinerary. “My flight doesn’t leave until tonight, but I can hang out and get some studying done.”
She looked up at him. “You were going to see me today and then . . . Just leave?”
He gave her a half smile. “I had hope,” he confessed. “I paid more for a completely refundable ticket, so I could stick around longer if you were interested.”
“I’m sorry, Jay.”
He patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. Listen, park in long-term, but instead of taking the shuttle, I’ll give you a lift to the terminal. I’ve got to return the rental car anyway.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
He stepped back from the car, giving a wave. He walked along the deck, making the way to his own vehicle, several cars behind. Reaching the car, he pulled keys from his pocket and climbed in, noticing his guitar and briefcase in the backseat. He’d need to move those to the trunk so Jane could fit her daughter’s car seat in. Her daughter. The words stuck in his mind, blocking out everything else like an enormous boulder might block a mountain road after a landslide. Jane had a daughter—never mind that she hadn’t given birth to her. She might as well have, because she was married too. And again, never mind that her husband was MIA in Iraq—considered dead now. Jane still loved him, was completely torn up about his death and the death of her son three weeks ago.
Son. Daughter. Husband. The words bounced around in Jay’s head. He was stunned. It was all he could do to safely drive his car off the ferry, find Jane, and follow her.
He’d worried she might meet someone over the course of the year, but in his wildest dreams he’d never expected this. Nor had he expected her to burst into tears a minute into their reunion and proclaim the whole thing his fault—all because he’d taunted her to answer an ad from one of the poor saps in the singles section of the paper.
Jay restrained himself from banging his head against the steering wheel as he waited behind Jane at a red light. He’d been so stupid. He never should have teased her, and he should have written letters, called her—anything. Instead, he’d focused on making something of himself, becoming a man she could rely on, a man she might l
ove.
And now, it was too late. Her heart and life weren’t his to win. The passionate kiss they’d once shared no doubt paled in comparison to all she had shared with her husband.
Jay swore as he stepped on the gas. He was angry, hurt, disappointed—devastated. The day he’d looked forward to, lived for even, all year, had ended in disaster before even beginning.
He waited for Jane to park, then helped her load her luggage into the compact trunk of his car. It took some maneuvering.
“Sorry,” she said, giving him a sheepish grin that set his heart racing. “You have to take a lot of stuff when you travel with a baby.”
Baby. The word washed over him like a bucket of ice water. He walked around and opened the passenger door for Jane. She murmured a thanks, and he closed it without a word.
The short drive to the terminal was silent, except for the last seconds as they pulled up to the curb when Jane turned to him suddenly.
“Jay, you look wonderful. You are wonderful for helping me like this. I’m so proud of you for getting your life in order—going to school . . .”
He attempted a halfhearted smile. “Druggies aren’t always stupid. Sometimes they’re just temporarily mixed up by the hand dealt them.” He turned the car off and hit the switch for the trunk.
“Yes, but Harvard.” She reached out, touching his sleeve. He looked over, and their eyes met.
“Yeah, well you started me out on the right path. After rehab, I finished up my bachelor’s in two years, graduated magna cum laude, and scored 179 on the LSAT. I think it was my essay that clenched the deal, though.”
“Oh?” Jane asked.
“I wrote about you,” Jay said.
“Me?” her eyes widened.
He nodded. “About the difference you made in people’s lives—in mine—and how I felt I could do that same thing as a lawyer.” He shrugged. “Anyway, someone above was looking out for me or something, because I got in. It’s been a great year. I love it.” And I still love you.
“Your past probably will help you be a better attorney.” Jane smiled. “And I hope you find an Elle Woods.”
Jay’s forehead wrinkled. “Who?”
“Legally Blonde,” Jane said, as if he should know what she was talking about. “You know, the movie about the girl who goes to Harvard Law School. At the beginning, she seems really ditzy, but by the end you see she’s very nice—and intelligent too. I hope you meet someone like that.”
Jay nodded. “Yeah, sure.” He couldn’t imagine himself with a blonde—ditzy, intelligent, or otherwise. For so long now, his heart had belonged to a beautiful brunette with captivating brown eyes and more kindness than anyone he’d ever known.
He climbed from the car and went to retrieve their luggage. Jane picked up her daughter and went to get a cart. He helped her load it and got her settled in line before he went to return the car. By the time he came back, she’d checked her luggage and was waiting just outside the security screening.
“Thanks again,” she said awkwardly. The little girl struggled to get free, and Jane set her down a moment, letting her toddle the few feet her bright pink leash allowed. Leaning forward, Jane hugged him impulsively.
Unable to resist, Jay hugged her back—longer than she’d planned, probably—but it was all he was getting, so he intended to make it good. They finally broke apart, and he saw tears in her eyes again. He reached for his handkerchief.
“I’m so glad I saw you,” Jane said. “Thinking about you doing so well will help me get through the next few days.” She bent and scooped up her daughter, gave him a quick wave, then hurried off to the line of people wending their way through security.
As Jay returned the handkerchief to his pocket, his fingers brushed an envelope—Jane’s invitation back into the graduate program. He pulled it out and stared at it, unable to believe he’d forgotten to give it to her.
“Wait,” he called. “Jane, wait.” He ran forward, but the uniformed guard stopped him at the entrance to the line.
“Ticket and identification?”
“I’m not flying until later,” Jay said. “This is for my friend. It’s important. I’ve got to give it to her—or you could—”
The man shook his head. “Step aside, please.” He motioned to the next person in line.
Jay watched helplessly as Jane walked farther and farther from his sight.
“That’s a beautiful little girl you’ve got there.”
Surprised at the voice, Jay looked at the man standing beside him. He was an older gentleman with thinning hair, white at the temples, and a face full of wrinkles to match.
Leaning heavily on a cane, the man nodded toward Jane’s retreating figure and added, “Course, with a mother like that, she’s bound to be pretty. You’re a lucky man.”
No. I’m not, Jay thought. Out loud he said, “She isn’t my daughter—that’s not my wife. I wish she were, but . . .”
The elderly gentleman looked off in the direction Jane had gone, then turned back to Jay, studying him a moment.
“Could be though, couldn’t they?” he said with a wink.
His suggestion struck Jay forcefully. Unable to think of a response, he watched as the man hobbled away, presumably to meet his own family.
Jane is single. Just because she didn’t spend the past twelve months pining for you, like you did for her, doesn’t mean this can’t work out. You just had the best conversation of your life with her, and you’re going to let her walk away? She needs you. And if you’re here for her now—as a friend—then maybe, when she is ready to love again . . .
Jay’s hand went to his coat pocket, feeling for his itinerary. His ticket was refundable. He had a few days until classes started again—enough time to accompany Jane on the most difficult trip of her life.
Pivoting on his heel, he grabbed his suitcase in one hand and his guitar case in the other and ran toward the check-in counter. Her flight wasn’t scheduled to leave for another twenty-five minutes. Maybe there was still a seat left . . .
Maybe, just once more, fate would be on his side.
* * *
For the first time in her life, Jane was able to preboard an airplane. She’d always envied those parents traveling with small children who got to board first—not necessarily because they were first on, but because they had children—and today she was one of them. If only the occasion had been different, she might have enjoyed it. Maddie did look adorable in her smocked pink sundress and matching hat.
Feeling the chill of the airplane as soon as she sat down, Jane pulled Maddie’s sweater from the diaper bag. She put it on her, then let Maddie stand beside her. Sitting for the six-hour flight was going to be long enough for a one-year-old.
Jane looked out the window, watching as the luggage was loaded on. She saw Maddie’s port-a-crib on the conveyer and was glad to know that it would make it safely to Baltimore.
Be grateful for the small things, had been her mother’s sage advice, and Jane kept to that counsel every day. Sometimes it was the only way to make it through without crying constantly. Everything reminded her of either Mark or Peter. She continued to look out the window, not trusting her emotions if she happened to see a baby boy or a couple traveling together.
“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. We welcome you aboard flight 1260 with direct service to Baltimore. We’d like to advise you at this time that this flight has been overbooked, so it is possible you may need to check carry-on luggage with a flight attendant. Also, we are asking for volunteers at this time who might be willing to wait for a later flight. If you choose to do so, the airline will compensate you with a voucher for one round-trip ticket, good to any destination in the continental United States.”
Jane picked up the diaper bag as the voice continued. She’d hoped to have the row to herself, but since that wasn’t going to be the case, she might as well get what she needed ready now. Unzipping the bag, she pulled out the FAA-approved infant seatbelt attachment she’d bought and the bot
tle for Maddie to drink during takeoff. Every one of her sisters had advised her to make sure Madison was sucking on something when the plane took off and landed. Aside from the bottle, Jane had an arsenal of other treats in her bag—fish crackers, fruit snacks, Cheerios, and juice boxes.
Maddie had recently learned how to use a straw. Another thing to be grateful for. Juice boxes were cheaper and a lot easier to pack than multiple bottles.
The plane was nearly full when a woman sat beside Jane. She smiled at Madison, then took out a paperback and began reading.
Good, Jane thought. She wouldn’t have to make conversation. Jane looked out the window again as people continued to move down the aisle.
“Excuse me, would it be possible to change seats? My seat is in first class, but I was hoping to sit back here and help my friend.”
How nice, Jane thought. She turned to see who the lucky friend was. Jay stood in the aisle, a hopeful smile on his face.
“Jay!” she gasped. “What are you doing here?”
“Helping out a friend in need,” he said. “I hope, anyway. I didn’t think you should fly cross country and rent a car all by yourself with a baby in tow. I’m here to offer my services as an escort.”
The woman beside Jane was eyeing Jay’s first-class boarding pass. “I’ll change seats, if it’s all right with you.” She turned to Jane.
Jane nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak. She watched through blurry eyes as the woman collected her things and got up. Jay handed his guitar case to a stewardess. Jane couldn’t believe he was here, that he was doing this for her. A tear slid down her face and she struggled to think of something to keep the rest at bay. He sat down beside her.
“Hey . . . don’t cry.” He used his thumb to wipe away the tear trailing down her cheek.
“I’m not—I won’t.” She gave him a shaky smile.
Counting Stars Page 40