Just Look Up

by Courtney Walsh

  Slowly Lane turned toward her sister, who hung back in the doorway. With one look she could see Lindsay had been crying.

  “What’s wrong?” She asked the question more out of habit than genuine concern. She didn’t care what was wrong. Not with Lindsay.

  That made her an ugly person, and she knew it. Lane was probably the last person in the world she wanted to talk to.

  “I’m actually glad you’re here.” Lindsay took a few steps into the room and closed the door behind her. It would be a matter of minutes before someone else showed up, Lane was sure, but she didn’t like the thought of being alone with Lindsay even for seconds. It would bring out the very worst in her, and she didn’t need to be reminded of her very worst right now.

  Or maybe it just hurt too badly.

  Lindsay hugged her black leather handbag to her chest and avoided Lane’s eyes. Finally Lane returned her attention to Nate. If Lindsay wanted to talk to her, fine, but she wasn’t going to try to pull it out of her.

  Lindsay cleared her throat.

  Lane didn’t move.

  “I thought you’d gone back to Chicago.”

  “I did.”

  “You came back again?” Her voice shook as she said the words. What was going on?

  Lane didn’t respond, figuring the answer was obvious, but she noticed Lindsay didn’t move from her spot near the door. Seconds later, she heard her sister sniffle.

  “Are you just going to stand there?” Lane asked, doing nothing to hide her irritation.

  Lindsay hovered behind her like she didn’t know where she was supposed to go unless someone told her.

  “Did they say anything about Nate? Is he any better?” Lindsay dared a few steps closer, then moved around to the other side of the bed. She still clung tightly to her purse and avoided Lane’s eyes.

  Surprisingly, Lane saw no need to avoid Lindsay’s. She lifted her chin and watched her sister, the memory of the day Jasper told her what he’d done rushing at her as if the floodgates had opened. She braced herself for impact, remembering the look on his face when she showed up at his door. She knew instantly something was wrong. She just had no idea what it was.

  Jasper had been away for the weekend—camping, he’d said. Never mind that Jasper wasn’t a camping kind of guy. That should’ve been her first clue.

  “You look like you’re about to be sick,” she’d said when he answered the door. He didn’t move out of the way to let her in. He didn’t pull her into an I-missed-you-so-much hug, which was, she thought, what a fiancé should do. Instead he just stood there silent, and she knew whatever it was, it was going to hurt.

  “Jasper?”

  He avoided her eyes, opting to stare at his feet. “We need to talk, Lane.”

  Her throat went dry. “Can I at least come in?”

  He finally looked at her. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  “Okay.” She paused then. “You’re scaring me, Jasper.”

  He glanced away. “I met someone, Lane.”

  His abrupt words shook her foundation. “What are you talking about?”

  “I think I’ve fallen in love with someone else.”

  She was getting the worst news of her life, standing in the hallway outside his apartment. Doreen from next door was probably eavesdropping through her keyhole. “Can I come in? We can talk about it.”

  “It’s not a good idea, Lane.”

  “What are you talking about?” She tried not to sound hysterical. “When did all this happen? This weekend you met someone new? Someone you’re in love with?”

  He let out a heavy sigh. “Don’t do that, Lane. Don’t make me feel bad about this.”

  She felt her jaw go slack. Was he serious? “You don’t feel badly about this?”

  “What? Of course. Of course I do.” A noise from inside the apartment startled him and he closed the door a little.

  Lane eyed him, her stomach wrenching, her heart pounding like the bass drum in a marching band. “Unbelievable. Is she here now?”

  “I didn’t think you’d be by until later,” he said as if that were an acceptable answer to her question.

  A calmness came over her, the kind of calm that was a bit frightening given that it was so out of place. “Get out of the way, Jasper.”

  He resisted, but he had to know she wasn’t going to leave until she knew what—or who—he was hiding.

  She finally pushed past him and found Lindsay sitting in his kitchen wearing one of his white button-down shirts and nothing else. She was perched at the table with her legs pulled up under her, hair in a messy bun, and Lane realized Jasper had never gone out of town that weekend at all. He’d only told her that so he could spend a few days with Lindsay without having to worry that Lane would find out about it.

  Lindsay stood, a dumbfounded, confused expression on her face. “Lane, it’s not what it looks like.”

  Lane’s mind rushed to piece it together. She’d brought Jasper home with her twice the previous summer. She’d introduced him to her family. They got along. Hit it off. Had there been sparks between him and Lindsay that she hadn’t noticed? Had this started then? When he was there with her?

  “It looks like you two spent the weekend together.”

  Lindsay looked helplessly toward Jasper, who smoothed his hair and sighed. “Lane, let’s be rational here. We’re all adults.”

  “She—” Lane pointed at Lindsay—“is not an adult.”

  “Technically she is,” Jasper said.

  Lane met his gaze. After several seconds of glaring at him, she smacked him across the face. Hard.

  “Lane!” Lindsay rushed over and stood next to Jasper, giving her a clear picture of how this whole scenario was going to end. The two of them on one side, Lane on the other.

  “You both make me sick,” Lane said, doing her best—which really wasn’t very good—not to cry. “I never want to see either of you again.”

  Apparently Jasper loved Lindsay’s bubbly personality. They had fun together. They just had a spark he’d never felt with Lane. He said it all as Lane struggled to wrap her brain around the words, the scene in front of her. Like he needed to get it off his chest to make himself feel better.

  She’d been too paralyzed to say or do anything else—all the things she should’ve said came to her afterward, but by then it was too late. She didn’t have an audience for her pain anymore.

  A few months later, Jasper and Lindsay announced their engagement. A few months after that, they got married. And now, years later, she was sitting in the same room with one of the people who’d caused her the greatest pain she’d ever known.

  Yet Lindsay was her sister. It had never mattered before, so why now?

  “Lane, are you ever going to talk to me again?” Lindsay asked, interrupting Lane’s much-preferred silence.

  Lane glared at her. “I really see no reason to, no.”

  Lindsay nodded, eyes on the ceiling, the way she did when she was trying not to cry. “It’s just that I could really use someone to talk to right now.”

  Lane glanced at Nate, the rhythmic breathing of the ventilator the only sound that broke the silence hanging between them.

  “I think I made a terrible mistake.” Lindsay slid into the chair on the opposite side of the bed. Lane kept her eyes on Nate. She wouldn’t engage. She couldn’t.

  “I never should’ve betrayed you the way I did, Lane, and I’m so sorry.”

  A lump lodged itself squarely in the center of Lane’s throat like someone had inflated a balloon there, making it hard to swallow.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lindsay wipe her cheeks dry, and she resisted the urge to feel sorry for her.

  A long-forgotten image rushed back at her. The two of them huddled together in a single sleeping bag, camping in the backyard. It was well past midnight and their brothers had made a sport of scaring their sisters.

  “I’ll protect you,” Lane had said when Lindsay crawled into her sleeping bag. “It’s just
the boys being silly. We’re not going to give in. We’re going to prove to them we’re strong enough to stay out here.”

  “All night?”

  “Yep. If we stick together, we can do anything.”

  Now Lindsay pulled a tissue from her purse. She’d become someone Lane didn’t recognize—a shell of an actual person—as if Jasper had stolen her identity away and molded her into who he wanted her to be.

  Was that it? Lane was too strong for him?

  “I don’t think he ever got over you, Lane.”

  Lane folded her hands in her lap. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I’ve spent my whole life trying to live up to his memory of you. In the beginning, he sometimes slipped up and called me Lane. Or one time, I made him dinner—Italian, because all I knew how to cook was pasta. You would’ve thought I was feeding him something foreign, like squid or octopus, and I knew he was thinking, Lane and I don’t eat pasta. Because you don’t anymore, which is why you’re so thin and gorgeous now. That’s hard for me too, because you know, I was always the thin one, and then I had Jett and now my body looks like this.” She flopped her hands in the air, having grown a bit more hysterical with each word.

  Lane glanced at her, not telling Lindsay she still looked like a model. She said nothing.

  “I feel like your ghost has followed me around ever since that day in Jasper’s apartment. It’s been Jasper and me and your ghost, this constant reminder of the person he should’ve married, this strong, brilliant, beautiful person who didn’t deserve to have her heart broken.” Lindsay’s eyes were bloodshot. She closed them and another tear escaped. “I can’t measure up to you, Lane—not for Jasper and not for anyone else.”

  Words she’d been waiting years to hear did nothing to soothe the aching of Lane’s spirit. Shouldn’t Lindsay’s admission warm her heart in some way? Why didn’t it?

  “I don’t think Jasper and I are right together.” Lindsay balled up her tissue and pulled at the edges the way she’d done even when they were kids. “I know it’s too late to say that, but . . .” Her voice trailed off and she dabbed the corners of her eyes, crossed her arms, and leaned back in her chair. “I’ve tried to make this work, but Jasper . . .” She looked at Lane.

  Jasper what?

  “It’s just not. Working, I mean.”

  Lane’s heart raced. For years, she’d dreamed of one of them realizing what a ridiculous mistake they made by getting together behind Lane’s back. She’d dreamed of the day Jasper finally admitted how horribly he’d treated her and offered an apology, which she absolutely would not accept. She’d imagined the day Lindsay did exactly what she was doing right now—admitting to Lane that their marriage was a mistake.

  So why did it feel so unfulfilling to hear her say the words?

  “What’s not working?”

  “Me. Him. Us.” Lindsay sighed. “He’s so distant and he hardly ever pays attention to me anymore. He doesn’t do what he says he’ll do and he never helps out with Jett. My friend Morgan talks about her husband all the time—how he does the laundry and makes the kids’ lunches. He’s a present husband and father. Jasper isn’t.” Lindsay shifted in her seat. “You wouldn’t understand, Lane. You’ve never been married.”

  That stung. She wanted to lash out with Well, whose fault is that? But she bit back the words, her gaze landing on their brother, whose life hung in the balance. Suddenly their rift—no matter how hurtful—felt silly and unimportant.

  “Do you remember when I was in eighth grade and I decided to go out for basketball?”

  Lindsay shrugged. “Kind of.”

  “I told Mom and Dad I wanted to play sports because it looked fun, but really I thought maybe I’d lose some weight and everyone would stop calling me Pudge.” Lane’s mind wandered back to the way the uniform had fit her—too tight, too revealing. It was embarrassing. “I wanted to quit after the first week. I hated it so much, and I was so bad at it.”

  “That, I remember. You’d come home in tears every night.”

  “It was awful. I just knew I’d made a mistake, and I wanted out of it.”

  “I know what you’re getting at, Lane, but this isn’t the same thing.”

  “Mom and Dad refused to let me quit,” Lane said, ignoring her sister. “I stuck it out the entire season. I even scored two baskets, which was pretty impressive given the fact that I hardly ever actually played in a game.”

  “Yeah, you’re a real Kobe Bryant,” Lindsay said dryly.

  “My point is, nobody gives you a guarantee that it’s going to be easy. Giving up would be easy. Leaving would be easy. Sticking it out—that’s a lot harder.”

  “You sound like a motivational speaker.”

  Lane could practically hear her sister’s eye roll in her tone. “You wanted this life so badly you hurt our whole family to get it. Walking away now would just be cruel and selfish, Lindsay. To me and to Mom and Dad, not to mention to your son.” Lane stood. “You don’t get to quit just because it’s not easy or Jasper isn’t paying attention to you twenty-four hours a day. Why don’t you focus on other people for a change? Figure that out and I’m betting the rest of it will fall into place.”

  Lindsay knit her fingers together. “It’s not that simple.”

  Lane studied her for a long moment, wondering if she’d ever been happy at all. Had her marriage to Jasper been some weird effort to try to one-up Lane? Was she so tired of being in Lane’s shadow that she purposely sabotaged her?

  Lindsay got up. “For what it’s worth, Lane, I am sorry.”

  Lane leveled her gaze. “If you’re really sorry, then prove it.”

  “How am I supposed to do that? Divorce Jasper? Wouldn’t that prove it? Would you forgive me then?”

  “No, Lindsay.” Lane slung her bag over her shoulder. “You don’t get to give up on the life I was supposed to have. If you really want to prove to me you’re sorry, then you’ll do everything you can to make your marriage work.”

  She glanced at Nate one more time before she turned and walked out.

  CHAPTER

  32

  IT WAS TEN MINUTES PAST NOON, and Ryan had started to wonder if Lane was going to show. He sat on the front steps of the model cottage, but there was no sign of her. What if she was so freaked out by their kiss that she was set on avoiding him? Or worse, what if she’d left town? He’d call her if he had his phone. He wasn’t sure where he’d set it down.

  Finally, after about fifteen minutes of waiting, she pulled up in front of the house, and she and Otis got out of the car. She carried a brown paper bag, and she looked like something out of his dreams.

  Hailey and Betsy—as annoying as they were—were right. Having Lane back in his life felt like a second chance. He wasn’t about to let her get away that easily.

  “You’re late,” he said, keeping his tone light. He didn’t want to let on he’d actually been worried about her.

  “Sorry. The girl my dad has working the register is not so bright. I had to come around to her side of the counter and ring myself up.”

  “You didn’t do that.”

  She looked puzzled. “Of course I did. She was taking forever. I rang up the next three customers too, then showed her a couple shortcuts on the register.”

  “I bet she loved that.”

  “I was nice.” Lane smiled. He’d never get tired of seeing that. “I brought lunch.” She held up the bag.

  “I see that. Should we eat out on the back porch? I think there’s bottled water in the fridge.” He opened the door and led her through the house and into the kitchen, where they both lingered just a hair too long. It was impossible not to think about that kiss, standing in the same spot where it had happened.

  Lane’s cheeks were undeniably pink, and he knew it was up to him not to make this awkward.

  He grabbed a couple bottles from the refrigerator and motioned toward the screen door that led to the porch. Barb had picked out a set of wicker gliders and a love seat, and there was a
small table and chairs for eating on the porch. Lane sat cautiously in one of the chairs as if she wasn’t sure she wanted to be there anymore.

  “Look,” he said. “I know you feel weird about what happened last night.”

  “Oh, we’re talking about this?” She looked away.

  “Do you not want to?”

  She hesitated. “I thought you felt weird.” Her voice was quiet. He guessed she wasn’t used to actually discussing her feelings.

  “I do. Sort of. I mean, I don’t regret it, but I feel bad if I made you uncomfortable.”

  She didn’t respond.

  “I’m sorry if I was out of line.”

  “No, you weren’t. It’s fine.”

  He lifted his chin and faced her. “So I can do it again if I want to?”

  She smiled, then looked down.

  “I’m not Jasper, Lane.”

  She stiffened at the mention of his name, but he wouldn’t let that deter him.

  “I know what I want, and even though you may not be able to accept it yet, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll wait till whenever you’re ready.”

  She pressed her lips together, then raised her head. “What if I’m never ready?”

  He shrugged. “I guess I’ll be waiting a long time.”

  Her phone buzzed from somewhere inside her purse. She didn’t jump to get it the way she usually did. Instead, she pulled the sandwiches from the bag and set them on the table. “I hope you’re hungry.”

  “I’ve got some ideas to show you.” Lane felt exposed as she said the words, as if she’d never done this before. Her desire to please him was alarming. She was usually much more sure of herself when it came to work. But this was so important to Ryan, and she wanted to get it right.

  She took out her laptop. After she left the hospital, she’d gone down to Davis Park and sat in the gazebo, sketching out her ideas, then searching for images on her phone, which she saved to later turn into a makeshift mood board. It wasn’t fancy, but they were working on a deadline.

  “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  “I used the model cottage as inspiration,” Lane said, turning her laptop toward him. “But I tweaked the ideas a bit. Your designer chose some really nice foundational pieces. The hand-scraped, dark wood floors and crown moldings are perfect. The kitchen cabinets are beautiful, but I’m glad most of the details—the counters and appliances—aren’t in yet.”