Jane and Austen

by Stephanie Fowers

  I shook my head, feeling confused—Bigley was practically perfect.

  “Chuck’s mom makes Taylor look sane. No wonder my stepfather cheated on her.” I grimaced at that while he rubbed his arm across his face. “So the guys and I thought … we thought we’d switch out Taylor’s wedding ring for a cheap one from the quarter machine.”

  “Um, no.” I put my finger up. “That’s a pretty awful idea actually.”

  “He’d love it.”

  “But Taylor wouldn’t, so I’m just going to have to tell you ‘no’ on that one.”

  “You’re telling me ‘no’?” He leaned back in his chair, a grin spreading lazily over his face. “You really are different from other girls.”

  “Not really.” I felt myself getting irritated, “it’s just that your idea’s stupid.” I squinted with remorse after the words came out. I had said that wrong. My present boldness had to do with going head to head with Austen earlier.

  Harry Crawley laughed and took my unwilling hand. “You really don’t want me to do the switch? Do you say ‘yes’ to anything?”

  “Yeah, ice cream and chocolate.”

  It came out before I realized that it sounded like an invitation. He tried to stand up with my hand. “Okay, let’s go.”

  “Hey!”

  “How else are you going to make me behave?” he asked. “If you don’t, I’m switching the rings tomorrow.”

  What? Was I on candid camera here? I took a deep breath. “Think about the most awkward date that you’ve ever been on and then multiply that pain by twenty. If you even think about doing a switch at the wedding rehearsal tomorrow, that’s what you’ll feel once Taylor and I are through with you.”

  “Totally worth it.”

  I jerked my hand from his and shot to my feet, the chair skidding across the sand behind me. “It’s your funeral, drunk guy, but if you plan more mischief, be sure to give me the head’s up, okay? I want to be sure to stop everything you do.”

  “So you’re saying to give Taylor’s ring back?”

  “What?” My voice lowered to a harsh whisper. “You have it already?”

  “You want to pat me down for it?”

  “Strangle you is more like it!”

  He laughed and leaned closer. “It was really nice to meet you, Jane. Next time I’ll get you alone so we can really have some fun.”

  All my romantic ideals of finding love at Taylor’s wedding fled out the door and instantly I was a hard woman. I gave Harry Crawley a cold smile. “You’re a guest here, and I’m a professional. That means you and I will never have fun.” There were social boundaries, after all. I realized that I was parroting Austen’s ideals, but I didn’t care. I’d use them when they suited me.

  “You have a beautiful smile.” Harry Crawley pulled in even closer. “I’d almost say it was sweet.”

  “Artificial sweetener,” I growled out. His face registered surprise at my retort, and I abruptly ended the conversation by jogging away.

  The sand split under me, and the waves made an angry crashing in my ears that still buzzed with Crawley’s disturbing flirtation. He was so drunk he probably wouldn’t remember our conversation in the morning. And if he did? My thoughts went to Austen for help. I shook that thought away. This wasn’t fiction, and he’d never play the role of my hero. I’d take care of Mr. Crawley on my own.

  Chapter 10

  “But then, if one scheme of happiness fails, human nature turns to another; if the first calculation is wrong, we make a second better: we find comfort somewhere.”

  —Jane Austen, Mansfield Park

  The plucking and tuning of instruments filled the inside of the chapel. I picked at a muffin in the effort to get some nutrition out of it to fuel my tired body. Blinking swollen eyes at the group assembled at the church, I tried not to meet anyone’s gaze. The problem was that there were so many people to avoid that it was becoming difficult.

  Despite all my brave words, I was unsure of how my “moment” with Dancey would play out in the real world. The cold light of morning seeped through the stained-glass windows and made everything so practical. Austen’s logical words against romance echoed in my head—add to that my conversation with Crawley last night, and it resulted in my confidence hitting an all-time low.

  “Jane, Jane!” Taylor rushed over to me, looking flushed. “Jane, I’m so scared that I’m forgetting something.”

  “Leave your worrying to me,” I said, fluffing her veil—she insisted on wearing it as her only ornament for the rehearsal. With her boots and flannel shirt, it was actually pretty cute. She should start a trend. “Just enjoy yourself.”

  “I can’t,” she whispered. Her eyes had a hollow look to them. The dark circles under them were looking more like bruises. “Chuck isn’t here yet. He left with Dancey this morning.” My stomach lurched at the mention of Dancey’s name. With so much expectation built-up between us, the reminder of him seemed more like a threat now.

  I shook my head. “Don’t worry, Taylor. Bigley will come to the rehearsal.”

  “That’s not what I’m worried about.”

  I searched her face. “Then what is it?”

  She threw her hands into the air. “I’m not getting any sleep. I’m paranoid and crazy. I can’t think straight. Is this what cold feet feels like?”

  My heart sped up. I had no idea. I grabbed her arm and led her to one of the side rooms near the reverend’s office. “Taylor, talk to me. What’s happening?”

  She wiped at the silent tears escaping from her eyes. “I love Chuck. I do. I want to be with him more than anything. He’s the best man that I know—he’s so sweet, kind, gentlemanly, thoughtful—”

  “So, what’s the problem, Taylor?”

  “What if everything I want isn’t right for me?” She choked over her voice.

  I stared at her, not sure what I was really seeing. Taylor looked a wreck. Her normally immaculate hair was disheveled. Her lips trembled. Is this what love did to us? She was closer than she ever was to getting everything she wanted—what we all wanted—and the fear that it would somehow get messed up was making her crazy. I put my hand over hers. “Don’t you want to marry Bigley?”

  “Yes, yes, I do.”

  “Then you have to go for it, Taylor.”

  Austen popped his head into the room. Taylor was serious about making him my assistant and he looked anything but happy to be here. He studied Taylor’s tear-streaked face, and I cringed, knowing he would see it all out of context and believe that he was right and I was wrong. He licked his lips, and I waited for him to tell Taylor everything he had told me yesterday. His eyes went to mine instead. “Chuck’s here,” he said.

  He disappeared into the hall, and I turned back to Taylor, free to speak. “Don’t you think you deserve happiness?”

  She took my hand and clutched it. “I do. Please. Just keep reminding me that this will make me happy.”

  It took me a moment to take in what she’d just said. “Wait, Taylor.”

  She bolted out of the room so fast that I could barely keep up with her. Her face was now expressionless, like she hadn’t just been crying—I envied the skill but was still worried about her. She patted down her hair, and as soon as she found Chuck Bigley, she looped her arms around him like he was her lifeline.

  His hand found hers, and he turned so that she nestled into him—my traitorous heart melted at the sight, though I couldn’t get what Taylor had said out of my mind.

  “Hey baby.” He kissed her, and then whispered, “I love you.”

  Or he could be whispering “elephant toes.”

  Why did Taylor call herself paranoid? About what? I took a step toward her and stopped short when I saw Crawley standing next to his stepbrother. He saw that I was looking at him and smirked, then took out a ring box.

  I clenched my fist and ran into Austen. He steadied me, but his usual laugh was missing. Still, I couldn’t help taking him into my confidence. “If I don’t kill Crawley first, I want you to
finish him off, okay?”

  “What? Who’s Crawley?” Austen asked.

  “Chuck’s stepbrother, Harry Crawley.”

  Austen’s eyes narrowed at him. “Oh, that guy. Yeah. I checked him in yesterday.”

  “He’s got some prank going on with Taylor’s ring. And I don’t know what to do about it.”

  “You want me to stop him?” Austen asked.

  My heart fluttered at the suggestion. Austen was actually offering to help me. “I don’t know what we could do, short of tackling him.” I briefly considered the idea, but Taylor’s stoic face changed my mind. Crawley laughed at something Bigley said, and I shuddered. “How can someone so nice be related to someone so awful?”

  Austen shrugged. “Ask your biology teacher.”

  “Not funny. It’s like I’m in the middle of a rom-com, Austen.”

  He looked blank.

  “A romantic comedy,” I translated for him. “I had another meet-cute last night, but with the villain this time. I think you really cursed me with your little spiel against romance.”

  He looked surprised. “You think this is happening because of me?”

  “If it is,” I said, “I cursed you too. I can hardly wait for you to get yours.”

  “And what would getting mine entail?”

  I waved my hand generously over the wedding party. The bridesmaids smoothed their skirts, the men chatted amiably. “Something like this—bride, reverend, tearful family, the works.”

  Austen rolled his eyes. “Sure, why not? Everyone looks so happy. Are you going to tell me what was wrong with Taylor?”

  “She …” I stuttered to a stop. Austen was such a critic of romance—I could see him saying that it clouded our good judgment. He’d talk Taylor out of her own wedding when she only had cold feet. I tried to keep my uncomfortable misgivings to myself. Taylor deserved to be happy. “She needed my help with her veil,” I said.

  Austen didn’t buy it—I could see it in his eyes, but I forgot about that the moment Dancey entered the chapel. My heart sped up. How could I ever have mistaken him for a valet? He walked with a feline grace, his stride confident. His clothes were understated and expensively tailored. My speeding heart turned into a runaway train. He looked too good—like a rock star … and my legs felt shaky when I realized he was looking back at me.

  “You got any gum?”

  I turned distractedly at the question, seeing Austen had asked for it. He didn’t look happy. Right. He didn’t trust Dancey. I glowered at Austen for ruining my moment. “No,” I said. “What’s your problem?”

  “This wedding rehearsal for starters. Do you shout ‘Ready-set-go’ or is that my happy duty now that I’m your assistant?”

  “I’m on it.” I deserted him and found the reverend in the group. Eddy and his wife were tied up in conversation with the musicians, but as soon as they saw me approach, Eddy took charge of the whole proceeding. The reverend went to the front of the aisle, where the men joined him to wait for the bride. I was acutely aware of what Dancey was doing the whole time. He stepped next to Chuck Bigley, laughing at a few jokes. His eyes always veered back to me.

  Feeling my skin tingle at the attention and not sure if I should be thrilled or terrified out of my mind, I clasped my clipboard and led the bridesmaids, flower girls, and Taylor to the end of the chapel. “Everyone in your places. Bridesmaids first, and then the bride, followed by the flower girls holding her train.”

  Taylor watched me expectantly, and I remembered that her father was coming in later tonight. I needed a fill-in. “Austen!” I turned and he grunted at my loud voice. He was standing right next to me. “Oh sorry,” I said. “Can you give the bride away?”

  Taylor treated Austen to a small, vulnerable smile. His expression turned sympathetic and he closed the distance between them in an instant, more gallant than he had ever been with me. He offered Taylor his arm. “I have such a beautiful daughter,” he said.

  “Not so fast, Austen,” she said. “I’m older than you.”

  “Stranger things have happened.”

  I wasn’t sure what. Keeping my eyes on the musicians, I set the stopwatch on my cell phone and nodded for them to begin. Their sweet music wafted through the room in response, and I motioned for the bridesmaids to make their way down the aisle. Even dressed in jeans and T-shirts, I imagined them as little ladies-in-waiting treading over the red rug of the church.

  Bertie was at the front. Her arms protruded from her sides, her birdlike hands clawing the bouquet, seeming afraid someone might steal it from her. Mary was behind her, a stain on the front of her pale pink dress shirt. Her nose was red from rubbing it raw and still there was no sign of moisture on it. Last came Bella, her long blond hair piled high on her head in a messy knot. She drew looks from all of the groomsmen … except for the best man. Dancey only had eyes for me.

  I flushed, not able to read his look. Was it true? Did he really think that I was that interesting? I wanted to get to know him better, but Austen’s words against a possible romance between Dancey and me kept playing through my mind, making the doubts creep in. Maybe he was just bored and thought I was amusing?

  The bridesmaids filed against the other side of the groom and joined Bigley’s groomsmen at the front of the chapel. I waved Taylor to go join them, but instead she shifted from foot to foot. Austen looked worried. “Taylor?” he asked in a lowered voice.

  “My bouquet!” she cried. “I put it in the car. It’s not my real one—just a bunch of California poppies I found …”

  Weaving around Austen, I found Taylor’s other side and rubbed her back. “Just pretend you have it,” I whispered.

  The flower girls took my advice instead. The little blond twins pretended to lift her fake train. I made a mental note to pick the real train up today after the rehearsal. Taylor squeezed Austen’s arm and made her other hand into a little fist as if she carried the bouquet. I hadn’t expected her to take me so literally. Her hand shook.

  Austen’s eyes went to mine in silent rebuke before the two took off down the aisle. It almost looked like he had to drag her. Taylor was taking too long. The musicians reached the final notes of their song and had to start the Bridal Chorus again.

  By the time Taylor reached Bigley, her smile was stretched tight and fake across her face. Austen relinquished her to her groom, but he didn’t look happy about it.

  The reverend reserved a kind smile for Taylor. Besides his priestly collar, Eddy was indistinguishable from the other men at the front. I was so used to the white-haired preachers we normally dealt with that it was a shock to see one who could take out the groomsmen in a game of basketball. He laid a comforting hand on Taylor’s arm and turned to Chuck Bigley. “You wrote your own vows?” Eddy asked.

  Bigley’s focus was on his fiancé. “Yes, Reverend.”

  “Then please begin.”

  Bigley took a deep breath, his eyes tender on Taylor. “I, Charles Frank Bigley the III, take you, Taylor Missy Elizabeth Weston, as my wife. When I first saw that little dimple above your smile and the way your precious eyes sparkled like emeralds, I knew my life would not be complete until I uttered these words: I promise to be faithful, to hold you in the highest regard. Life will be hard, but it will also be beautiful. We will laugh, we will cry; there will be good times and hard, but whatever comes our way, I will never be sorry that you were by my side. Today, I make my promises in front of God, our family, and our friends, that I will always be true, that I will love you forever, and that I will dedicate my life to your happiness.”

  Taylor ducked her head and I knew that she was going to cry again. She took a moment to take back her legendary control before she sniffed and said, “I, Taylor Missy Elizabeth Weston, take you, Chuck Frank Bigley, to be my husband. You are everything I want,” her voice broke. “My day begins and ends with thoughts of you—my dreams, my life, my heart I dedicate to you. Today, I make my promises in front of God, our family, our friends, that I am all yours: body, mind, spirit, sou
l. I vow to love you and do everything in my power to make you happy.”

  I sighed, feeling my fears wash away. Bigley would take perfect care of Taylor. Surely, Austen would see that this was true love. I stole a glance at him and saw him frowning. What was Austen’s problem now? Bigley was perfect. The groom-to-be was all sweet smiles and kind eyes. He watched Taylor like she was something precious. Bigley held his hand out to Dancey for her ring.

  With sudden dread, my eyes went to Bigley’s stepbrother. Crawley met them with an amused grin. My heart dropped, especially when he slipped the familiar black box out of his pocket and gave it to Dancey, who did the hand-off to the groom.

  Bigley snapped open the box. He glanced down, his eyes sliding back up to Taylor. He cleared his throat. “Let this ring symbolize the vows of our hearts, the commitment of our bodies, the joining of our spirits in holy matrimony. All that I am is yours.”

  He plucked her ring out of the box—the perfect, non-trick ring—and slipped it over Taylor’s finger. I went limp with relief. Crawley found my eyes and winked at me. I leaned back against a pillar and took a deep breath.

  Though this was only a rehearsal, Bigley kissed Taylor. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back as though her life depended on it. It was a little passionate for a church kiss. Austen took a step back from it. Dancey’s eyebrows lifted.

  I signaled the musicians to play again. Bigley took Taylor’s hand, and they walked down the aisle towards me, their friends trailing at their heels.

  “Great, great,” I said, feeling the urge to rub my forehead free of the headache forming there. I had a lot of things to fix. “Let’s go through this again. Bridesmaids, I want you to stand a little taller and keep closer together. Dancey.” With a jolt, I felt the full impact of his eyes on me, and I tried to smile to ease the sudden racing in my veins. “Can you keep the wedding rings the whole time?”

  He covered the few steps between himself and Taylor and with gentle movements, slid the ring from her finger. She wouldn’t look at him—her hand tightened on her groom-to-be. Dancey glanced over at me. “Are you afraid her ring will run away?” he asked.