Shane forced a polite smile. “It’s very nice to meet you.” He turned to me. “I’ll be waiting in the car.”
Miss Lynnie did not seem sad to see him go. “Mark my words, Jayne dear. Marry someone who loves the Lord.”
I said goodbye to Miss Lynnie and headed out for the car. Shane was standing beside it, hugging his coat to protect himself from the fine, chilly drizzle.
“I realized I don’t have a key.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Your Sunday school teacher just told me I’m condemned to eternity in the underworld.”
“She’s a ninety-six-year-old Sunday school teacher. What did you expect?”
“You just stood there!”
“What was I going to say? I didn’t want to upset her—she’s fragile. She could go at any moment.”
“Can we leave, please?”
“I don’t have a key either.”
“We should have taken my car.”
Mom emerged from the church moments later, followed by Beth, Gary, and Emilee.
“Beth’s joining us for lunch,” Mom said.
“Oh. Okay. Good.”
“We can’t stay long,” Beth said. “Emilee needs her nap.”
“No, I don’t.” Emilee twirled under her father’s hand. “I don’t need a nap.”
“Yes, you do, little girl,” Gary said, picking up his daughter. “We’ll see you at the house?”
Mom unlocked the car; Shane all but leaped inside.
“Don’t worry.” Mom nodded to me after the doors were closed. “I talked to Beth. She said she’ll be on her best behavior.”
“I wasn’t worried,” I lied.
At lunch we rolled out leftovers from the previous two nights, the microwave buzzing away and bringing renewed life to the lasagna and pork roast.
I helped Emilee with her lunch while Beth talked to Mom and Shane chatted with Gary.
“Would you like potatoes?” I asked
Emilee nodded.
“Broccoli?”
Emilee shook her head.
“Would your mom like you to eat broccoli?” I said, turning to Beth.
Beth looked at Emilee. “Two pieces. Two baby trees.”
I picked out two from the Rubbermaid container. “Two baby trees, coming right up.”
Emilee wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like baby trees.”
“They’re good for you. Broccoli helps your eyes to see well and helps prevent colon cancer.”
She looked back at me, blankly.
“Broccoli will help you to stay healthy and maintain a svelte, princess-like figure.”
“Broccoli will make me look like a princess?”
I chose my words carefully. “You already look like a princess,” I said, “but eating broccoli will help you to keep looking like a princess, even when you’re a grown-up.” When you’re a grown-up, and your hormones are out to get you.
She stood up on her tiptoes and examined the broccoli spears on her plate. “I want three.”
Beth stepped in. “I want three, please.”
“Please!”
I placed another broccoli floret on her plate.
Lunch passed companionably. Emilee ate all of her broccoli. When she started getting a bit cranky, Beth asked Mom if she could take a nap in the sewing room.
“Maybe Jayne’s old room would be better,” Mom said. “Jayne and I have a quilt on the floor of the sewing room.”
“A quilt?” Beth’s eyebrow lifted. She turned to me. “You quilt?”
“I cut quilt squares. Haven’t actually made a quilt yet.”
“You will,” Mom said before taking a sip of ice water.
“When are you coming back to visit?” Beth asked.
I paused. When was I planning on visiting again? I hadn’t contemplated the possibility of a return; I didn’t think anyone would want me to. “Um…” I stalled. “I’ll have a lot of work to catch up on come Monday morning.”
Mom’s and Beth’s faces fell.
“But,” I continued, “I don’t see any reason why I couldn’t come out weekend after next.”
They both brightened.
Mom took a satisfied bite of lasagna. “The guest room is always available for you.”
“Unless Emilee’s napping in it,” Beth said drily, “but it wouldn’t be longer than a two-hour delay.”
Everyone laughed.
“Why is that funny?” Emilee asked, sending everyone in chuckles all over again.
After lunch Mom and I cleared the plates while Beth put Emilee down for a nap upstairs. Gary and Shane settled in the den in front of a baseball game.
When the kitchen was cleared, Mom and I went back to work on the quilt while Beth offered her two cents about the layout and design of the squares.
I packed up my things after Emilee woke, cranky and fuzzy, from her nap. Shane carried my suitcase down to the car with minimal grousing while I hugged everyone goodbye. My heart melted when Emilee wrapped her arms around my neck, kissed my cheek, and said, “Goodbye, Auntie Jayne!”
Mom promised to take good care of my quilt squares in my absence. Beth gave me a hug and didn’t utter a single insult, even professing to be looking forward to seeing me next.
Shane and Gary exchanged man hugs, with a good deal of thumping on the back for extra measure.
I retreated to the car as my eyes grew damp; I didn’t want to leave.
I sighed as Shane drove around the corner and the house completely left my sight. “That was wonderful.”
Shane nodded. “Yeah. Gary’s a cool guy. Things seemed like they went better with your sister today. And your mom…she makes a really good lasagna.”
“What about little Emilee? She’s so cute.”
“Yeah. She’s a great kid.”
“You know, I never really thought I’d want to do the kid thing. I mean, kids, you know, they ooze, they smell, they’re terrible communicators. Why would someone create them on purpose? But then I meet Naomi’s kids and Baby Ruby, and now little Emilee. Even if they don’t have a complete vocabulary, they’re excellent at showing how they feel. They’re better at body language than, I don’t know, a mime.”
“A mime?”
“Or something like that. They’re very expressive.” I turned to him. “I never thought I’d want kids. But now I think I do.”
I almost missed how Shane’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.
“We’ve never talked about kids before,” he said.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“I like kids, don’t get me wrong. I’ve just never wanted any of my own.”
“Even a little girl like Emilee?”
“No.”
His words started to sink in. “You really don’t want children, do you?”
“I don’t.”
I turned to stare out the window.
We didn’t speak again until we were nearly back to my apartment.
“Jayne, what do you think about us?”
I looked at him. “I…I like us. I like you.”
“Where do you see us in the future?”
I tried to imagine us dating for another year—I could visualize that. After dating though…
“What I’m trying to say is, do you want to marry me?”
My eyes widened. “Are you proposing?”
“I’m asking. Sometime in the future, do you want to be married to me?”
“You don’t want children? Not ever?”
“No.”
Miss Lynnie’s words floated back to me. Marry someone who loves the Lord. I couldn’t begin to call myself a good Christian, although I had asked Jesus into my heart two decades ago. As much as I liked Shane…
“I don’t think I could marry you,” I said, in sudden realization.
He sighed. “I didn’t think so.”
“It’s not just the kids,” I blurted out in a rush. “It’s…”
He held up a hand. “I know. The church thing. I thought you were over
that.”
Believe me, I thought I was too. “Being with the Amish—it made me realize things about myself. About my life.”
“I noticed. Quilting?”
I gave a half smile. “I know. Who saw that coming?”
“Not me.”
“So…are we breaking up?”
“I think…yes.”
“Huh.” I ran a hand through my hair. “I feel like one of us should be yelling or something.”
“You yelled a couple days ago.”
“We didn’t break up a couple days ago.”
“I think we both saw this coming.”
All I could think of was Levi. “Maybe.”
Shane and I broke up so graciously, Nora Ephron would have been proud. He drove me to my apartment and helped me carry up my luggage. I found a couple of his books that had been lurking on my own shelves, as well as a jacket he’d left behind a few months prior.
He promised to bring over my copy of Ken Burns’ Jazz, my volt meter (for my motorcycle battery), and the fleece blanket I’d loaned to his couch since his apartment ran so cold.
I gave him a hug. He leaned in for one last kiss and I couldn’t turn away.
He rested his forehead against mine when the kiss ended. “I loved you, you know.”
I laid a finger on his chin. “I know.”
I just hadn’t loved him back.
After Shane left, I lay down on my couch and stared at the ceiling.
Huh. I hadn’t been single for so long, I’d forgotten what it was like.
For starters, Shane wouldn’t be calling to make plans with me anymore. True, he had a few things he needed to bring by, but we weren’t headed to dinner and a movie anytime soon.
Interesting.
I unpacked my bags, really and truly this time, taking care to check my garments for damage and wear. After starting a load of laundry, my stomach rumbled. I walked to the kitchen to investigate the food situation.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. My freezer was full of labeled leftovers from Martha. My pantry was more full than I’d ever seen it.
On a whim, I picked up the phone and called Gemma, Joely, and Kim. “I have tons of food,” I said. “Come over and eat with me.”
Somehow, everyone was available. Joely was the first to arrive. “Look at you with your all-weather wrist brace! You look great. And I’ve never seen your apartment this clean.”
“Yeah, I decided the open sewage finally needed to be taken care of.”
“You survived the Amish okay?”
“They were wonderful. Challenging, but wonderful.”
“You called just in time. I just got off my shift and I’m starving.”
“Did you break speed laws getting here?”
Joely had the grace to turn a bit pink. “I was really hungry.”
Kim and Gemma showed up shortly after. “Where’s this food I was hearing about?” Kim asked, seeing that I hadn’t really taken anything out.
“I was waiting for you. It’s in the freezer.”
With Gemma’s help, I had dinner on the table in fifteen minutes.
“I just can’t believe how clean everything is,” Kim said between bites.
I rolled my eyes. “It’s not like this place was a safety hazard or anything.”
“But it wasn’t this…this spotless,” Gemma said. “The backsplash of the sink is clean, and the ridge around your sink has been cleaned with a toothbrush.”
I grimaced. “How can you tell?”
“That’s the only way I know of to get the ridge to look that way, unless the Amish know something I don’t. I’m assuming Martha—was that her name?”
“Yup.”
“I’m assuming Martha was cleaning up. Unless you decided to hire someone.”
“You don’t think I’m capable of being this clean by myself?”
Gemma, Kim, and Joely broke out into simultaneous laughter.
I rolled my eyes. “Flattering. Thank you.”
“It’s just not your style,” Gemma said. “You’re more comfortable. Lived in. You’ve never been obsessive about tidiness.”
“And that makes me a slob?”
“No,” said Kim, “cluttered.”
“We’re only pointing it out,” Joely said. “It’s not like my place is all that clean. There are parts of my bathroom that will probably get up and walk away someday.”
Gemma grimaced. “Gross. That’s why I never use the bathroom at your place.”
I clapped my hands over my ears. “Too much information!”
“Changing the subject,” Kim said, holding out her hand. “Have you seen Shane since you got back?”
I shifted in my seat. Now was as good a time as ever to tell them.
“I did. We actually went to visit my mom this weekend.”
“That’s nice. A little weekend getaway?” Kim asked.
“Something like that. But we, ah, we broke up.”
Kim put her fork down. “You broke up at your mom’s?”
“On the way back.”
“So who dumped who?” Joely asked.
“Whom,” Kim corrected.
“It was mutual.” I swished the water around in my glass. “Anybody want anything else to drink?”
“I never liked Shane,” Kim offered.
“Well, not dating him anymore.”
“Any plans, now that you’re free?” Gemma had a glint in her eye.
I knew exactly what she was referring to, even if she wasn’t going to come out and say it.
“Oh, catch up on work.” I kept my voice light and vague. “I’ve been gone so long, things will be crazy.”
Gemma’s eyes danced with questions, but she didn’t say a word.
Which was fine, because I wasn’t about to tell.
Chapter 24
I actually made myself breakfast the next morning before work. Before I went to stay with the Burkholders, I seldom ate a morning meal.
Martha had spoiled me with biscuits and hash browns and bright yellow eggs. In her absence I fed on leftovers and cereal.
Since my little dinner party the night before, I’d made a decision. I was going to try to keep the apartment in its post-Amish state.
Along with that, I was going to learn to cook, bake, and quilt. If the Amish could do it, I could do it.
I had to stop myself from clapping my hands over my ears as I sat at my work computer. Since when was the newsroom so loud? People talking, people working. Brian typed loud. Laura, two cubicles away, was still complaining about her sunburn and the resulting peeling skin on her face.
I jumped when my phone rang. It was Sol, wanting to see me in his office.
In five.
The whole thing felt very familiar.
“Jayne,” Sol said when I walked in. “You look good. Rested.”
I sat down. “Thanks.”
“How are things?”
“Broke up with my boyfriend.”
He winced. “But you’re fine?”
“It was mutual.”
His face relaxed. “Good.”
For a second there I think he was contemplating firing me. I mean, it’s not like I was going to take two mental health breaks in one month. That’s what unemployment was for.
“While I was gone,” I said, “I stayed with an Amish family in Albany.”
“Really.” Sol leaned back in his chair. There are days I’m surprised he doesn’t fall over altogether.
“I thought there might be a story there.”
He shook his head. “I put you on mandatory leave and you went story chasing?”
Um, yeah.
“I should be surprised,” he said with a sigh. “But I’m not. Go on. Did you get a story?”
I reached into my briefcase, retrieved the printout of the story I’d written, and plopped it on its desk.
The pages splayed with a satisfying slap.
Sol lifted them from his desk. “Did you pick up your flair for the dramatic from the Amish?”
“Just read it,” I answered.
“I don’t have my reading glasses.”
I saw them at the corner of his desk and handed them over.
“Thanks.” He settled them on the bridge of his nose and started reading.
He didn’t talk while he read. When he finished, he flipped through the pages again before tapping them onto the desk to align the sheets.
“Aside from a split infinitive near the end, this is good.” He tapped the pages against the desk once more. “Really good.”
“Thank you.”
“You’ve got your groove back, Tate.”
I grinned. “I’d hoped you’d say that.”
“We’ll run it Saturday after next. Human interest. You changed the names, right?”
“I did.”
“Good. Don’t want any issues with Legal.”
“There won’t be.”
“Until then, there’s an urban garden southeast of town that’s been vandalized several times despite security upgrades.”
“Security at an urban garden? Aren’t those things pretty open?”
“They are until people dig up plants and spray paint racial slurs on the fencing.”
“I’m on it.”
“Your piece looked good. Glad to see you’re back.”
“I’m glad too,” I said before retreating to my cubicle.
I collapsed on my couch after work. The busyness of the day had sapped every last bit of energy from my body. I fought the urge to pull the afghan over my head.
Because that would just be silly.
Instead, I channel-flipped for a while until I realized I’d left my jacket, purse, and keys in the entryway, and if Martha had seen it, she would have cleaned it up by now.
I hoisted myself up from the couch, hung my jacket up in the hallway closet, and looked around for a place to put my purse.
There was the chair, and I could place it there to look artful, but then it might lead to other things being dumped on the chair.
I needed a hook or a shelf of some sort. Or a shelf with hooks under it. Maybe Levi could make me a shelf with hooks underneath. Nice, large hooks, suitable for women’s motorcycle accessories.
After all, he’d promised to make me a bookcase. Maybe he could make me a shorter bookcase and a shelf.
Plain Jayne Page 19
