Plain Jane

by Fern Michaels

  “Mrs. Bryan?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m Jane Lewis. I was a friend of Connie’s,” she said, offering the woman her business card.

  “Please, come in. My husband is in his workshop. I’m sure he’d like to meet you. I’ll fetch him. It will be just a minute. I just made some coffee. Would you like some?”

  “Yes, thank you. Coffee would be nice.”

  Jane looked around the living room. Comfortable was her first thought. She squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to picture Connie lying on the floor, a book open in front of her as she listened to the television. She had probably played the piano on the far side of the room, where pictures of her from babyhood to college graced the top. A huge picture of her in a pale yellow prom gown hung over the mantel. Jane swallowed again. Her parents were probably in the workshop whispering and wondering what she was doing there after so many years. Please, God, let this be the right thing I’m doing.

  “Dr. Lewis, this is my husband Quentin. My name is Adele. Please sit down. I’ll get the coffee.”

  “Please call me Jane.”

  “All right, Jane,” Quentin Bryan said quietly.

  He was short and squat, almost soccer-ball round and totally bald. He doesn’t look friendly at all, Jane thought. She debated running for the door.

  “I don’t seem to recall meeting you, Jane. Or is it my bad memory?”

  “No, we never met, sir.”

  “What brings you to Slidell?”

  “I drove down here from LSU this afternoon. I’ve wanted to come here so many times over the years, but I could never get up the courage. I have something to tell you. I should have told you years ago, but I promised your daughter I wouldn’t.”

  A cold congested expression settled on his face. “Young woman, I think you better wait till my wife gets here before you say whatever it is you have to say.” There was such a chill in the man’s voice, Jane shivered inside her button-down sweater.

  “I’m here now, Quentin. What is it you came here to tell us, Dr. Lewis?”

  Jane cleared her throat. “Before I tell you, can you tell me why Connie took her own life?”

  Tears welled in Adele Bryan’s eyes. “We don’t know. She took her life during the night. Quentin found her in the morning when she didn’t come down to breakfast. There was no reason that we could think of. She was getting married right after graduation, and she was so in love. Todd was so broken up he didn’t even go to his own graduation. He didn’t know the reason either. It was a shock to all of us.”

  Jane took a deep breath. “I know why,” she said as calmly as she could. “That’s why I came here.” Jane licked at her dry lips. “The night before Connie’s and my last final, we walked home from the library together. Six boys came out of the bushes and frightened us. Three of them grabbed Connie and dragged her into the bushes and then raped her. I tried everything I could to help her, but they kept me from her.” In spite of their horror-stricken faces she continued. “Afterward, I begged her to go to the crisis center or to the police to file a report, but she refused. She made me promise not to tell anyone. For some reason she was positive Todd wouldn’t want her anymore and would break off their engagement. I kept her in my dorm room with me all night.”

  Jane watched, her face miserable, as Connie’s father put his arm around his weeping wife’s shoulders.

  “Connie wanted me to throw her clothes away. She didn’t want any reminders of what had happened. I put them in a paper bag, thinking she could use them as evidence if she changed her mind about filing a report. I still have the bag, and the DNA would still be as good today as it would have been back then. I would have brought it with me, but I didn’t know I was coming here until I got to LSU and made the decision.”

  “This is preposterous!” Quentin Bryan exploded. “Why are you doing this to us? What possible reason can you have for coming here and stirring all this up again? I don’t want to hear this, and neither does my wife. If Connie had been raped, she would have told us. She was a good girl. She didn’t keep secrets. Damn it, she would have told us.”

  Adele Bryan took her husband’s hands in hers. “Hush, Quentin,” she said, her voice stern. “I do want to hear this. I need to hear this.” She turned to Jane. “Connie wasn’t the same when she came back from college, Dr. Lewis. She spoke to us, and she smiled here and there, but all the life seemed to have gone out of her. She lost all interest in her wedding plans, and she said she wasn’t going to go to her graduation. She never gave us a reason. We didn’t know what to make of it, and neither did Todd. He did everything he could to get her out of what he called her funk. He thought maybe she didn’t do well on her finals. Quentin is wrong. She would never have told us something like that. Do . . . do you know the boys’ names?”

  “No. It was too dark. Some of the campus lights were burned out. That’s why we were walking together from the library.”

  “Why did you feel compelled to come here now and tell us this?” Quentin Bryan demanded coldly.

  Jane folded her hands in her lap. “I thought you had a right to know. I didn’t want you to think it was something either one of you had done or think that you had failed her somehow. I wish I had come sooner but . . . I didn’t. Back then, I doubt if you would have believed me.” She leaned forward slightly. “Did you know that Todd Prentice got married? It wasn’t even a year later. His wife is extremely wealthy, and they have three children: Joshua, Alice, and Peter.”

  Adele gasped. “Those are the names Connie wanted to name her children.” She turned and clutched at her husband.

  Jane frowned as she digested Mrs. Bryan’s statement. “I saw him at a fund-raiser a few years ago. I had always known of him, but until then I had never met him personally. For some reason he sought me out. I thought that was very strange at the time, and I still think it’s strange.”

  “What does all that have to do with Connie’s death?” Mr. Bryan shouted. “She took her own life. Christ Almighty, can’t you let her rest in peace?”

  Adele wept into a wad of tissue her husband slapped into her hand. “Hush, Quentin. I want to hear all of this.” With shaky hands she reached for her cup of coffee. “For years we’ve blamed ourselves for Connie’s death,” she said to Jane. “It’s a relief in a way to know that it wasn’t something we did. But I’m curious. All this business about Todd marrying, having children, and seeking you out at the fund-raiser. You must think it’s important, or you wouldn’t have mentioned it. What does it mean, Dr. Lewis?”

  Jane took a deep breath. “I don’t know, Mrs. Bryan. I’m looking for answers myself. And relief. I’ve always regretted not taking Connie by the hand and forcing her to get help. All these years I’ve carried that guilt around with me.” She took a sip of her coffee and told herself she needed to say everything she had on her mind. Everything. Once she left the Bryan house, she didn’t want to have to come back because she’d left out some niggling detail. “I’m a psychiatrist. Not too long ago a man came to me as a patient. He played football at LSU. There was something about him. Something that didn’t compute. He said he was married. He said his wife was raped. He said he couldn’t bring himself to touch her. He said all the things Connie had said to me in regard to Todd Prentice. Last night I went on the computer and printed out everything I could on the man. Then this morning I went to LSU and got the pictures of the entire football team. I can’t prove this, but I think Connie’s attackers were football players, and I think my patient was one of them. He is no longer my patient by the way. Another thing, he is not married.” She wrung her hands, and flinched when she said, “I bit one of the boys who attacked us. I bit him so hard it went through to the bone. He would carry a scar to this day. That’s what I came here to say.”

  “You should have stayed away. We didn’t need to know all this garbage,” Mr. Bryan snarled.

  “One more word, Quentin, and I swear, I will walk out this door and never come back.”

  With a huff of indignati
on, Quentin Bryan left the room. Somewhere in the house a door slammed.

  “What are you going to do now, Dr. Lewis?”

  “I wish I knew. Coming here was my biggest hurdle. I’m going to go home and think this through. My brain is in overdrive right now. I’m not going to let this matter drop, though. I’m going to see it through to the end, whatever that end might be. I just wanted you to know that.”

  “How . . . how did you know what Todd named his children ?” Adele asked.

  “He lives in Crowley. I called his house from LSU this morning and pretended I was doing a survey on popular baby names. The housekeeper rattled them right off.”

  “Would you like to see Connie’s room, Dr. Lewis?”

  “Yes.”

  “I just closed the door that morning. We didn’t change or move anything. It’s not a shrine or anything like that. I just couldn’t bear to . . . to . . .”

  “I understand, Mrs. Bryan.”

  It was the kind of room a girl like Connie would have. Posters on the wall, her own Princess telephone. A coatrack with her cheerleading jacket and pom-poms sticking out of the sleeves. Rollerblades and ice skates hanging from the lower pegs. Stacks and stacks of books. Slippers and robe at the foot of the bed. Piles of Ms. and Cosmo magazines on the floor by her desk. A computer with a cover on it. A busy room, a comfortable room. A safe room.

  “Connie and I made the quilt the summer she was ten. She loved to sew and quilt. She was going to take it with her when she moved into her new house with Todd. Quentin and I bought her a sewing machine for a wedding present. It did everything. She never even took it out of the box. Quentin took it up to the attic. Connie said Todd was disappointed in the sewing machine. He was expecting a cash gift.”

  “I don’t much care for Mr. Todd Prentice,” Jane said sourly.

  “Neither did Quentin or I. But he was Connie’s choice, and she was so very happy. She had her life all planned out. I wonder if it would have worked out for the two of them. It didn’t take him long to get married. A year isn’t very long to mourn.”

  Jane walked farther into the room. “Did Connie leave a suicide note?”

  Adele shook her head.

  “Did you check the computer?”

  “Good God, no! I told you, we closed the door. I didn’t come into this room for years. Four to be exact. Quentin didn’t either.”

  “Would you mind if I took these disks?” Jane said, pointing to a plastic case with a dozen or so colored disks in it. “I’ll bring them back. There might be something on them. Then again, maybe not.”

  “Take them but don’t tell Quentin. Put them in your purse. Do you think I should clear out this room?”

  “Only if you want to. A first step might be leaving the door open. When you’re ready, you’ll do what you have to do.”

  “My husband is a good man, Dr. Lewis. Connie was his little girl. You know what they say about Daddy’s little girl? She was all that and more. He took her fishing, camping, hiking. They washed the car together. He absolutely adored her. He took her death so hard he retired because he couldn’t keep his mind on his work. I kept working because work took my mind off my grief. I’ll be retiring next spring.”

  Jane put the computer disks into her purse and turned around. “I should be going. Can you tell me where the cemetery is? I’d like to get some flowers and stop by.”

  “I can take you there. It isn’t far.”

  Jane shook her head. “Thank you, but this is something I want to do myself. I have some apologies to make to your daughter. I hope she understands.”

  Adele Bryan nodded. “I think I’ll . . . I think I’ll just leave this door slightly ajar. For now. Maybe tomorrow, I’ll open it a little wider. I appreciate you coming here. It must have been hard for you. Now, here’s how you get to the cemetery. . . .”

  The stone was square and simple. The chiseled words read, CONSTANCE BRYAN, BELOVED DAUGHTER. There were no dates, no carvings of any kind on the marble. Jane placed the flowers she’d purchased at the grocery store at the base of the stone. She dropped to her knees in the pouring rain. She talked until she ran out of words. “I know you aren’t here, Connie. I know your soul, your spirit, is somewhere else, but the part of you I knew so briefly is here. I’ll be back. I don’t know when, but I’ll have answers for you. I owe you that much.”

  Jane struggled to her feet. She felt cold to her bones. Back in the car, with Olive licking her face, she turned on the heater. She sat shivering in the steamy car, tears streaming down her face. When had she ever felt so inadequate? Wiping her eyes and blowing her nose didn’t make her feel one bit better.

  The cell phone lying on the console beckoned her. It was time to check in with Trixie and Mike. “How’d it go, Trixie? Is Betty okay? Were there any problems?”

  “Everything’s fine, Janie. Where are you, honey?”

  “Slidell. I drove down from LSU. I’m actually parked in the cemetery. Connie’s parents didn’t know about the rape. Not a clue, Trixie. I’ll tell you about it when I get home. Where’s Betty now?”

  “Her friend picked her up a little while ago. She spent the morning playing checkers with Fred, then she read the paper and played with the dogs. She ate a good lunch and took Golda for a walk. She came back when it started to rain. She doesn’t talk much, and she volunteers nothing. She answers you if you ask a question, but that’s it. I left with Flash around three. My battery is low, Jane. I have to hang up so I can charge it.”

  Jane turned the key in the ignition, shifted gears, then turned on the wipers. She called Mike while she was waiting for the defroster to clear the windows.

  “Mike, it’s Jane.”

  “Where the hell are you? Do you have any idea what time it is? I’ve been waiting all day for you to call. If you ever do something like this again without talking to me first, I’m going to take you over my knee.”

  “Promises, promises,” Jane said lazily. He cares. He really cares.

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m leaving the cemetery in Slidell. I needed to say good-bye. I’m on my way home. It’s pouring rain, so it will slow me down. I should be home by nine. A nice warm dinner and a really good bottle of wine would be nice. Pick something up at Roy’s, okay?”

  “Are you all right, Jane? You sound a little strange.”

  “Probably not. I relived the whole thing, Mike, and I remembered a couple of things. Afterward, I went to the Bryans’ house and told them everything. Adele Bryan let me take Connie’s computer disks. I’m hoping there might be something on them.” A horn blasted behind Jane. “Listen, there’s lots of traffic, and I have to pay attention to the road, so I’m going to hang up. I missed you today. I thought about you a lot.”

  “I would have gone with you, Jane. You could be meddling in something dangerous here. You’re allowing yourself to get personally involved. That’s not good.”

  “It’s the only way I know how to do things, Mike. I’ll see you soon. I love you,” she said shyly.

  “If you knew how worried I’ve been . . . I love you, too. So much my ears are aching with the feeling. I never said that to another woman in my life. What aches on you, Jane?”

  Jane laughed as she broke the connection.

  She flew into his arms and hugged him until he squealed. “It’s been almost two days since I’ve seen you, Mike.” She kissed him until he pinched her to let him go. He pretended to gasp for breath. “That was so you won’t forget me while I take a shower and wash my hair. How about if I just put a robe on over my naked body when I’m done? We’ll eat and head straight for bed.”

  “A girl after my own heart.”

  “What’s for dinner?”

  “Fried chicken, coleslaw, french fries, and some gravy on the side. That’s for me. Sesame-steamed vegetables, grits, and berry cobbler for you.”

  “Is everything of yours really, really greasy?”

  “You bet. Table’s already set. I could wash your back if you want me to.” />
  “I haven’t had anything greasy in a long time. I might want to pick a little off your plate,” she said, looking toward the pots and pans on the stove. She turned away with a sigh. “I don’t need you to wash my back, but a back rub later would be nice.” She dashed off toward the stairs. “Put the wine in the freezer so it’s cold for dinner,” she called over her shoulder. “I won’t be long.”

  Jane threw her head back to allow the steamy, pulsating shower to work its magic. She couldn’t remember the last time anything felt this good. If she could just crawl into bed and sleep for twenty-four straight, dreamless hours, she might start to feel like a human being again.

  Time-wise, she was as good as her promise to Mike when she stepped out of the shower. She toweled off, sprinkled fragrant body powder all over her body, then slipped naked into her old, comfortable flannel robe. A rubber band in her hand, she gathered up the tangled mass of hair and piled it into a big loop on top of her head. She peered into the mirror trying to decide which comic-strip character she resembled. When she couldn’t remember, she shrugged and tripped her way down to the kitchen, where Mike was waiting for her.

  “Oooo, all that greasy stuff looks awful,” Jane said, picking at her steamed vegetables. She snatched a french fry from Mike’s plate, then a chicken leg. And devoured both.

  “I think you’re a vegetarian only when it suits you. Have some more french fries. Tell me about today, Jane.”

  She grabbed them before he could change his mind. “Not tonight, Mike. I’m whipped. I don’t want to think about anything but you and me tonight.”

  He looked her square in the eye. “You’re getting too personally involved, Jane. Nothing good can possibly come of this. I’m starting to worry about you.”

  “I don’t want to talk about this tonight, Mike. You conduct your practice your way and I’ll conduct mine my way. I can’t turn it off, that’s the bottom line. I wish I could be more like you and detach myself, but I can’t.” That was a lie, she thought. She couldn’t imagine detaching herself from her patients. That was the one thing she hated about doctors in general. After a while they all became sort of cold—detached. She’d promised herself she would never do that. “Maybe I should have been a gardener or a carpenter. I probably would have made a good plumber,” Jane said, her eyelids drooping.