Worth the Weight

by Mara Jacobs

  Published by Mara Jacobs

  Copyright 2012 Mara Jacobs

  Cover design by Kim Killion

  Formatting by www.formatting4U.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from the author at mara@marajacobs.com. This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  For more information on the author and Mara’s works, please see www.marajacobs.com

  ISBN: 978-0-9852586-0-3

  Prologue

  Make no little plans; they have no magic to stir men’s blood.

  Make big plans, aim high in hope and work.

  ~ Daniel H. Burnham

  Lizzie Hampton had a plan. Now she just needed the nerve to carry it out. As she drove into the Copper Country, the three-county western tip of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, she started to have second thoughts. Determined to follow through, she repeated to herself, like that little engine, “I think I can. I think I can.”

  The sun shone brightly, which was not always the case in the Copper Country, even in mid-June. She took the blinding light as a good sign, a sort of welcoming committee. She drove through downtown Houghton, the small city that neighbored her equally small hometown of Hancock.

  Some would call it quaint. Some would call it run-down. Lizzie called it home.

  She crossed the Portage Lake Lift Bridge to Hancock. The swelling of her heart surprised her, as it did every time she came back. She truly loved it.

  She unclipped her long black hair, shook it out, then rubbed her neck and rolled her stiff shoulders. The 10-hour drive from Detroit felt like 20. She slipped her oldest Springsteen CD into the player. Her love affair with Bruce had begun at the tender age of 13, and he was still bringing her home 22 years later.

  Just over the bridge separating Houghton and Hancock, she pulled into Bob’s Mobil, famed in the area because of its marquee. Just below the ever-increasing gas prices read a daily changing Bible verse.

  What made this sign so special was that no one had ever seen Bob, or anyone on his staff, change the marquee. And people had tried…hard. There had been stakeouts commanded by drunken Michigan Tech students. Local law enforcement – who really had nothing else to do in the peaceful area at 4 a.m. – would keep an eye out. Even Lizzie herself, aided by her two best friends and a bottle of Boones Farm Tickled Pink, had given it a shot years ago.

  No one had ever seen the “changing of the verse”, and it was jokingly discussed that maybe it wasn’t Bob who did the rotating, but a higher power.

  Today’s verse was “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.”

  She sighed over that. Guess she wasn’t in line for the earth, because she sure as hell had no intention of being meek on this visit.

  She gassed at the pump, then walked into the station to pay. Inside, she went to the coolers and pulled out a Diet Pepsi. She stood for a long time in front of the candy aisle, the glorious bright colors of red, orange and yellow wrappers invited her into their world of secret treasures.

  Old habits, dark feelings, and strong yearnings waged war within her. God, would it always be this hard? Would she always have to rely on sheer willpower? Would the cravings ever go away?

  Turning quickly away from the aisle, lest the lonesome call of the Kit Kat make her succumb, she made her way to the checkout.

  “Hi Bob,” she said as she grabbed a USA Today, both Detroit papers, and the local paper, The Copper Ingot, scanning its front page for her best friend Katie’s byline. She put them all on the counter.

  “Lizzie,” Bob acknowledged her presence and rang up her gas, pop and papers. Bob never said more than a grudging first name to his customers, but amazingly enough, he remembered everyone, whether they stopped by every day or once every four or five years as Lizzie did. Throw in her startling change in appearance since she’d last been in Bob’s, and his recognizing her was even more impressive.

  During her ten years of obesity, she’d only come home three times. The imagined embarrassment at seeing high school friends had kept her from venturing too far from her parents’ place during those visits. Just to Alison and Katie’s places, occasionally to the Commodore for pizza, and to Bob’s for pop and the papers.

  She hadn’t walked away from the candy aisle unscathed during those years.

  As she gathered her purchases, she looked around for somewhere to get rid of her fifty-eight cents in change. As she knew there would be, a canister sat next to the register. A picture of an angelic and tragic looking girl of around nine or ten, sitting in a wheelchair, adorned the converted tennis ball can. The only inscription read “Help Hannah” in crude, hand-written letters above the photo. Lizzie dropped the coins into the canister. She turned to close her purse, then opened her wallet and gathered out her single bills and stuffed them in as well.

  “See ya, Bob,” she said, getting only a grunt in reply.

  She got in her SUV and grabbed her notebook from the passenger seat. She’d written “The Plan” across the front in red marker. All her tablets were labeled in front. It made it easier to find the one she was looking for amongst the two or three she’d have in her large purse at any given time. She easily flipped to the page she sought. The page had a Diet Pepsi stain and was slightly curled up at the bottom edges. She’d flipped to this page often in the three months since she’d first began her planning.

  The familiar tingling that putting a plan to paper gave her returned. She looked through the bullet points and felt a rush of accomplishment at the check marks that accompanied all but one of the items.

  Secure loose ends at work. This item was first, of course, and had taken the most time. There were several sub-heads beneath it, all completed. Still, she’d check in with a call at least once a day while she was gone, plus she was always available through text, email, IM, Skype, you name it.

  Make arrangements with Robin. Her cleaning lady was up to speed on looking after her condo while she was gone. Nothing to worry about there.

  Have mail transferred to Mom & Dad’s. A quick form dropped at the Post Office on her way out of the city had taken care of that.

  Buy new wardrobe. That had been tough and had given her hours of anxiety at the department store. She’d bought lots of work clothes in her new size, but had been content to spend her leisure time at home in her old sweats and shorts. No longer. The number of suitcases in the back of her Navigator attested to that task being checked-off.

  Bruce moaned Born To Run as she pulled out of Bob’s parking lot and turned up the hill toward her parent’s house. Her eyes scanned the last item on the list.

  The only item left unchecked.

  The reason she was here.

  Find, fuck and forget Finn Robbins.

  Chapter One

  √ Call K & A about movie times

  “God, I love the smell of theater popcorn, there’s nothing else like it.”

  Finn Robbins heard the female voice from behind him. He couldn’t say the same. The smell of fresh popcorn made him sick. It seemed the aroma stayed with him wherever he was, the buttery stuff burning into his nose with every breath. It was enough to make him puke.

  It’d been okay when he’d worked here years ago, but this time around it was too much. Everything was too much.

  Something about the voice made him turn. Three women stood at the concession stand counter,
one of the new high school kids waiting on them. Finn had his head buried, connecting a new Coke tank. The old tank had just died, spraying Coke all over his white shirt. Just another sign that the universe was having a good laugh at him.

  He checked out the women. Mostly all he saw were packs of kids and couples at the theater. It was refreshing to see a group of thirty-something women together. The two he could see were striking, but in very different ways. Completely opposite in looks. The first was tall and Nordic looking, and strikingly beautiful. A Viking princess. The other was all soft curves, darker skin and hair, but still blonde. A dark Finlander and a light Finlander, the two mainstays of the Copper Country.

  There was something a little familiar about them. Maybe they came to the theaters often? He dismissed that. He’d have definitely remembered the Viking.

  The woman behind the two got her order and turned, allowing Finn to see only a flash of long black hair ending just above a wonderfully lush butt. He tried craning his neck, but from where he stood he couldn’t get a clear view of her.

  Those damn high school kids were too fast. They had the women’s orders done before Finn had a chance to get out from behind the counter and get a proper look. He wanted to figure out where he knew the two from, and definitely wanted to see the third.

  There was something about that voice. Maybe he could catch a glimpse of them after the movie as they left the theater.

  Lizzie couldn’t concentrate on the movie, which was unusual. She, Katie and Alison had been seeing movies at the Mine Shaft together since sixth grade when they were finally allowed to go without parental supervision.

  One parent would drop the three girls off in downtown Houghton. They would see the movie, then cross the street to the Big Boy for a hot fudge ice cream cake. One of the other girls’ parents would pick them up in front of the Big Boy exactly one and one-half hours after the movie was scheduled to get out. In that time, the girls would dissect the movie while plying themselves with the decadent dessert.

  Over time, the girls’ critiques of the movies went from “isn’t he dreamy” to “the use of the wide angle lens by the director was really effective.” Although isn’t he dreamy never really went out of style. They had progressed from parents’ pick up and delivery service, to being old enough to walk on their own, to driving their parents’ cars, to driving their own.

  Now they were back to walking across the bridge from Hancock to Houghton, but this time for the exercise. The Big Boy had long closed down, but Lizzie fully expected the Pavlovian response of craving hot fudge the moment the credits rolled.

  Except tonight, she wasn't immersed in the movie. “He didn’t even know me. Not a flicker of recognition,” she said out loud, as much to herself as her friends.

  “SSSHHHHH,” came a voice from behind them.

  “My plan centers around him, and he has absolutely no idea who I am.” She could hear the dismay in her voice. She put her head in her hands slowly shaking it. Then she grabbed hold of herself, snapped her head up and concluded, “It may take a little longer than I thought, that’s all.”

  “SSSHHH,” repeated the voice.

  “Get a grip, Lizard, we’re being shushed,” Alison whispered. “I don’t think he even saw you, you were so quick getting your popcorn. We’ll figure it out at the Big Boy. I mean, wherever we go after here.”

  Apparently Alison was still programmed, too. The thought cheered Lizzie.

  Finn looked up from the desk when he heard people leaving the theater. He was in the office going over how to fill out a time sheet with one of the new workers. As he heard the small crowd leaving, he quickly tried to wrap up his tutorial and get out to the lobby.

  The three women had just passed the office. Another view from the back. It was a hell of a view, but not the one he wanted. Damn, he wouldn’t get a chance to solve the mystery of from where he knew the women. The Viking was telling a story and as she finished, the other two laughed. He froze at the sound of the dark-haired woman’s laugh.

  He knew that laugh. Nothing dainty or feminine about it. Loud and boisterous, it came from the gut, full of heart.

  He dashed out the doors trying to catch the women. “Elizabeth? Liz?” he yelled after them.

  A few steps down the sidewalk, Lizzie turned to face Finn. Excitement buzzed through her. Triumph…he did remember her. Her excitement was quickly replaced by nerves.

  Now what? Should she play games? Pretend she didn’t know him? No, she decided, it had to be honest or she wouldn’t be able to live with herself. Her plan was cold-blooded enough without bringing deceit into it as well.

  “Hi, Finn. I thought that was you, but I wasn’t sure you’d remember me.”

  It felt surreal. Face to face with Finn Robbins after eighteen years. She moved closer to him and tried to take him in. His face, which in his youth had seemed chiseled, was now angular and hard, his blue eyes still deep and vivid. He stood right around six feet. Lizzie had always loved his height, it fit so perfectly with her own five nine. His then lanky build was now muscular. His hair, still close cropped and sandy brown, was sprinkled with sun streaks and just a touch of gray.

  Even though it was only early June, and summer hadn’t even begun in the Copper Country, his neck and forearms were tanned a golden brown. He wore old jeans that looked like a pair any teen would wear, but Lizzie guessed the holes and stains weren’t placed there for fashion. Some brown substance splattered the front of his white shirt.

  She couldn’t believe it. Eighteen years later and she was still drawn to him. Still wanted to touch him, wanted to place her hands on his chest, wrap her arms around his neck and press her body into his.

  She held out her hand instead.

  “I didn’t see you when you first came in. It was hearing your laugh that tipped me off.” He shook her hand, but didn’t release it, just held it awkwardly, as if he couldn’t believe she was real. She felt the same way, and she’d known she was going to see him. He must really be surprised. Pleasantly, she hoped.

  “God, Liz. I… I can’t believe it’s you,” the shock was evident in his voice. “You’re so…so…old.” His hand left hers as he covered his eyes, shaking his head. “I mean. I didn’t mean.”

  He placed his hands on his hips and let out a deep sigh. “What I mean is, it’s been a long time, Liz. I guess I still think of you as eighteen. But, here you are.” As if trying to put himself out of his misery, he finished, “It’s incredible to see you, Liz. You look beautiful.”

  He should have seen her three years ago. But that was then, and this is now. And right now Finn Robbins was telling her she looked beautiful.

  Take it and run.

  “God, it’s such a shock to see you. Did you move back to town?”

  “No. I live in Detroit now, have for quite some time. I’m just home visiting. Finn, do you remember my friends Alison Jukuri and Katie Maki, though Katie is Lipton now.”

  Finn nodded to Katie and Alison and they nodded in response.

  “And are you still Hampton, Liz?”

  It took her a second to figure out what Finn was asking. “Oh, yes, still Hampton. I’m not married. And you?” She held her breath. She had known of one divorce, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t remarried somewhere along the line. Finn had never traveled in the same circles as she and her friends, so they wouldn’t necessarily have known if he had.

  And Google came up woefully short on Finn Robbins searches over the years.

  “Married and divorced, about, let’s see, seven years ago, I guess.”

  So it had only been the once, she happily thought, and that had ended seven years ago. She mustered up her courage. She could do this. If she couldn’t ask out Finn Robbins, how on earth would she hold her own with someone like Davis Cummings? And that’s what this plan all boiled down to.

  “Listen, Finn, we have to get going…but I’d love to get together sometime and catch up on what’s been happening with you. I’ll be in town for a couple of months, at m
ost.” She added the last part so he wouldn’t feel like she was trying to start anything permanent with him. She also brought her hand to his and squeezed, just so he wouldn’t think her interest was only platonic.

  “That’d be great, but I’m pretty swamped right now with berry season...” Finn didn't want to let her go. The shock of seeing her after all these years was wearing off and he now looked at her through new, older, eyes.

  She was breathtaking, but he’d always thought so. He wanted her, and if her body was sending the signals he thought it was, she wanted him too. He did some quick juggling of events in his head. He had a night off from the theater on Wednesday, but he’d have to do something about Annie. He’d figure that one out later, he wasn’t going to let Liz go without a firm date.

  “How about dinner Wednesday?” he asked.

  She stepped closer to him, her bountiful breasts nearly grazing his chest. She gave his hand another squeeze. Damn, he’d sure like to squeeze more than just her hand.

  “That sounds great. Meet at the Commodore at 8?”

  “I’ll see you then, Elizabeth.” He dragged out her name into four long syllables, just like he used to, years ago. Only then, it would be a soft whisper, breathed close to her ear, prompting an answering sigh. He was the only person who ever called her Elizabeth. He mostly called her Liz, but he never called her Lizzie as everyone else did. He didn’t want to be just like everybody else to her.

  She’d been like nobody else to him.

  He felt her shudder. He’d always had that effect on her. Back then, she’d been too innocent to know how to hide it. It was refreshing to see that she still couldn’t mask her attraction.

  She smiled, placed a soft kiss on each of his cheeks then pulled away from him and returned to her friends. The women walked down the sidewalk toward the bridge. Leaving Finn staring after them. And counting the hours until Wednesday night.

  “I did it! I did it!” Lizzie muttered to herself while the women walked home. The early summer was warmer than usual, a soft breeze drifting off the canal. It was warm enough for shorts and tee shirts, yet not muggy. It never got too humid in the Copper Country, the breezes off nearby Lake Superior saw to that. “If I’d known how easy it was to ask a man out, I’d have done it before.”