Wait, Jane thought. Wait for the right one, Tara. It’s so worth it.
Jane looked to the front of the chapel again. Her father escorted her the last few feet, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and stepped aside, sitting next to her mother and the twins, who were dressed in new, matching outfits.
Jane lifted her face to Peter’s, love and adoration in his eyes. It seemed they both caught their breath at the same moment. She wouldn’t have believed he could look more handsome than he normally did—but standing there in his tuxedo, he literally stole her breath away. She felt beautiful as he studied her, unabashed longing in his gaze.
“I love you,” he whispered.
He held his hand out. Without hesitation, Jane placed hers in it. His fingers closed over hers. They lingered, looking at each other, savoring the joy of this moment—theirs alone.
A loud hiccup-sob, followed by a mournful wail, came from somewhere in the congregation. Recognizing the cry as Tara’s, Jane felt the corner of her mouth lift in a smile. Pete grinned back and gently squeezed her fingers. Together they turned to the bishop, ready to speak the vows that would begin their happily-ever-after.
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Peter escorted Jane past interested passengers to the top deck of the ferry. Her heels long since abandoned for sandals, Jane picked up her train so it wouldn’t trail behind her. Driving in their wedding clothes in the Jeep—decorated with signs, streamers, and cans—had been embarrassing enough. But Jane was truly shocked when they’d boarded the ferry and Peter insisted they walk around.
“How long do you get to wear this dress?” he’d asked when she balked at getting out of the car.
Jane felt her face heat with embarrassment. “I think that sort of depends on you.”
Pete chuckled. “That’s not what I meant. You only have one time—one day to be a bride. Why not enjoy it as long as you can? Besides, I want every man on board this ferry to see what I’ve got and be jealous.”
Now, walking across the deck, Jane wasn’t sure if jealous was the right word. More likely, the other passengers thought she and Peter were insane.
“I still don’t see why we couldn’t change,” she whispered, feeling herself blush as row after row of people stared at them.
Pete grinned. “Because this is every woman’s dream—the stuff of romance novels.” He pulled Jane over to the rail. “Or so your sister told me. Look.” He inclined his head toward the receding shoreline.
Jane followed his gaze. Silhouetted in the setting sun, the Seattle skyline was amazing.
“It’s been so long since I’ve been on the ferry. I’d forgotten . . . The view is beautiful.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Pete said, looking intently at her. “About you.”
Jane rolled her eyes. “Now there’s a pickup line if I ever heard one.”
He looked offended. “No line. Just the absolute truth.” He bent to kiss her.
A couple of teenagers snickered as they walked past.
“Jealous. I told you.” Pete said, his lips still hovering over hers.
“I know.” Jane kissed him quickly, then turned to look out at the bay. They stood in companionable silence for a few moments, her thoughts a mixture of anticipation and anxiety for the night ahead.
As if he’d read her mind, Pete took her hand and began rubbing his thumb across her palm. The seductive motion unnerved her even more.
“You know,” he began. “I’m as nervous as you are.”
Jane looked up at him.” Really?”
He nodded. “What if you don’t like the place we’re staying at? What if dinner is not to your satisfaction? What if—?”
“Stop,” she giggled, then felt herself blushing. “People are already staring at us.” She took a step to the side—away from him.
“Then it really doesn’t matter what we do, does it? And anyway, I’m reminded of a movie, just now,” Pete said.
“You’re mocking me.” She tried to frown at him.
“Not at all,” Pete said. “I’m completely serious. Name this film. I’m on a boat, and . . . I’m king of the world!” His voice carried across the deck.
Jane turned away, laughing. Another couple smiled at her sympathetically as they walked past.
“He’s ill,” Jane said, nodding in Pete’s direction.
“Liar,” he whispered as he came up beside her. “And I can’t believe you didn’t guess Titanic. Pete put his arms around her. “Well, no worries about this boat sinking. I see the shore already. Come on, we’d better get back to the Jeep.”
* * *
“Watch your dress,” Pete said, holding the car door open for Jane. Draping the train over her arm, she slid into the passenger seat. Pete tucked in the last of the fabric and closed the door. A minute later he was seated beside her, waiting for the ferry to dock.
“So,” Jane asked casually. “Where are we staying?”
Pete grinned. “Nice try, but you have to wait. I was actually hoping you’d show me your cottage first. I’d like to see it before it’s sold—it is on Bainbridge, right?”
She nodded. “I don’t know if Tara could handle seeing us again though. She was pretty torn up today—I think I was her last single friend.”
“We wouldn’t have to go in. Besides—” He glanced at his watch. “We have some time to kill before our dinner reservations.”
“Please tell me we’re going to change first,” Jane said.
He shrugged. “I guess that depends on your behavior. Show me the cottage?”
Jane leaned her head back against the seat. “It sounds like I’d better unless I want to risk getting dinner all over my gown.”
Pete drove the Jeep off the ferry, and Jane pointed him in the right direction. She smiled as she watched him from the corner of her eye. They came to a stop sign and the people behind them beeped and waved. Turning around in her seat, Jane waved back. “Was it Caroline who suggested decorating the car?”
“I think that was all Jessica and Amber.” Pete looked at her. “And for your information, beyond Caroline suggesting I learn how to propose properly, she had nothing to do with any of this.”
“Any of what?” Jane asked. “Turn left here. It’s the second house on . . .” She blinked to make sure she was seeing things properly, then leaned forward in her seat.
Peter parked in front of the cottage, and Jane opened the door and got out before he could come around to get her. Holding her dress up, she ran to the gate and opened it. Walking across the grass, she stopped at several different plants and trees, examining them. Finally she turned to the house and saw Peter, standing on newly poured steps—leaning against a post on an also-new porch.
“I don’t understand,” she began. “The yard is exactly like I’d planned—right down to the very last bush and tree I had listed in my black book. But there’s no way Tara could have . . .” Her voice trailed off. Realizing there was something to the mischievous smile on his face, she moved closer to Peter.
His eyebrows rose. “Yes?”
“Did you—did you do this?”
“Depends on how you look at it. If you’re asking if I’m the one who mowed and planted and dug and poured—then no. At least not most of it.” He came down the steps to Jane. “However, I will say that you aren’t very particular about where you keep your little black book, and I may have stolen an idea or two from there.”
“But Peter—” Her eyes filled with tears. She turned around in a circle, arms out as she looked at the yard again. “This must have cost thousands of dollars. And it’s only mine for a couple more weeks.”
He came to her, tipping her chin up. “It’s yours forever, Jane. The loan is paid off. You own it one hundred percent.”
Her eyes were wide with astonishment. “You bought the cottage?”
Pete nodded. “I haven’t got the title yet, but all the paperwork is inside. I’m the mysterious out-of-town buyer.”
“You bought the house,” she said again, then thr
ew her arms around him. Peter swept her up and whirled her around in a circle. When he set her down again, she took his face in her hands and pulled him close for a long, lingering kiss.
When their lips parted, he was surprised to find Jane frowning at him.
“We can’t live here, Peter. It’s too far away from the hospital, and if Mark were to need medical attention . . .”
“I know,” Peter said. “For now it’ll just be our vacation home.”
“Can you afford it?” Jane asked.
He chuckled. “I’m thirty-four years old,” he reminded her. “I’ve been an attorney since I was twenty-seven, and I’ve never had a mortgage or any other large expenses. I’ve been saving—for you.”
She blushed, and Pete knew she’d caught the double meaning. He bent and picked her up, cradling her in his arms. “Now, it’s time to see the inside.”
“The inside?” Jane asked. Her feet kicked excitedly like a little girl’s.
“I didn’t have time to finish the whole thing,” Pete admitted as he carried her up the steps. “But you’re going to love the bedroom.”
Chapter Seventy
“You sure you’re not hungry?”
Jane shook her head. She knew going out to dinner would prolong their evening, but she felt way too nervous to eat anything. “How about you?”
“Starving.” Pete looked at her with undisguised longing.
Jane bit her lip. “In that case, let’s go out.” She started toward the door.
He caught her arm and their eyes met. “You know what I mean.”
Jane swallowed the lump in her throat. She looked around the bedroom again, still not quite able to believe the transformation. The four-poster bed, fireplace, and lavish draperies reminded her more of an elegant bed and breakfast. It was the brand-new, oversized Jacuzzi tub in the bathroom that was making her feel faint though.
“The house is perfect,” she whispered. “I can’t tell you enough how—I love it.”
Peter looked at her tenderly. His fingers slid down her arm, and he took both her hands in his. “I wanted you to know how much you mean to me. I want to give you everything in my power. You deserve a fairy tale, Jane.”
Freeing one of her hands, she placed her palm on the side of his cheek. “I love you too. I wish I had something spectacular to give you like the house—”
“You do.” The mischief returned to his eyes. “Since you’re not hungry, we can get right to the business of your tutoring me in the art of lovemaking.”
Jane rolled her eyes. “Please.”
“Please what? Please kiss me right here?” He leaned forward and kissed her earlobe. “Please do that again? I’m afraid you’re going to have to be more specific tonight.”
Jane giggled. “You’re terrible—positively wicked.”
“I told you women like the bad guys.”
“Oh no.” She shook her head adamantly. “You’ve got it all wrong there. It’s really the good ones we’re after, and I waited a very long time to find mine.”
He turned her around and began unbuttoning her gown. Jane closed her eyes, enjoying the bliss of his fingers brushing against her skin.
Pete whispered as he bent to kiss her neck.
“Take as long as you need to get ready, but leave your hair up. It drives me crazy.”
* * *
A few minutes later, Jane stood on tiptoe, looking in the bathroom mirror at her white silk nightgown. Tara’s note lay on top of the box the gown—and mask, snorkel, and fins—had come in.
Jane,
When you decide to take the relationship plunge, boy you take it! I’m so happy for you, so glad the strong undertow turned out to be a swift current to the Mediterranean.
Tonight I want none of that Gertrude’s Mystery Flannel you usually wear to bed. However, I tried to think of your tastes when I picked this out.
Love,
Tara
P.S. Remember, while you’re swimming in that sea of love, come up for air occasionally.
Jane hugged her arms to herself, feeling feminine and beautiful—and awkward and jittery.
“Jane?”
Startled by Peter’s voice on the other side of the door, she jumped, stubbing her toe on the tile. He knocked again. “You okay?”
“Just a minute,” she called in a squeaky, uncertain voice. Taking a last look in the mirror, she opened the bathroom door and glanced toward the bed where Peter sat, looking less at ease than she’d ever seen him. “You can’t possibly be as nervous as I am.”
“More so,” he said half serious. “As the guy, I’m supposed to know everything.”
“Well, do you?” Jane asked, her nerves soothed by his endearing confession. She stepped into the room, but lingered by the door.
Peter rose from the bed and walked over to her, pulling her into a gentle embrace. “I know that I love you, and I’m pretty certain that’ll be enough.”
Chapter Seventy-One
Pete wrapped the blanket around Jane and pulled her close beside him on the roof. The night air was chill around them, but with her by his side he was warm. He looked up at the stars as Jane snuggled against him.
“Careful,” Pete warned. “You wouldn’t want to pitch your husband off the roof the very first night you’re married. The insurance company might find that suspicious.”
“Don’t worry,” Jane assured him. “It was way too much work to find you in the first place. I’m not about to push you to your death.”
Pete chuckled. “I’ll remind you of that the first time you’re angry with me.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder. “We shouldn’t joke about dying.”
“You’re right,” he agreed. His smile fled. “But it would be a good idea to talk about it—before I leave.”
“Don’t do it,” Jane said. “End of discussion.”
“Yes dear,” Pete said. “How was that? I’ve been practicing.”
Jane looked up at him, eyes filled with love. “You don’t have to practice anything. You’re already perfect.”
“I’m not,” he insisted. “And don’t you go thinking that.” He tilted her chin to him. “If something happens, don’t you dare remember me as a perfect guy. Think of all the times I made you mad instead, okay?”
“I forgot them already.”
“Try to remember,” he coaxed gently. “And count the stars.” He released her and looked up at the night sky. “I’ve always thought that when someone dies, there’s a new star—not forever, and not for everyone—but just for a short while, kind of a sign for those left behind.”
“Have you ever seen one?”
He nodded. “I know every constellation, and after my mom died, and then again with Paul—I swear I saw a new star for three nights in a row. If angels can appear, then why not extra stars?”
He glanced down at Jane, but her expression was unreadable in the dark. “If something happens—you give me ten days. Just ten days,” he reiterated. “And I’ll do everything I can so you’ll know I’m either alive or . . .”
“Count the stars,” Jane said quietly. “Like The Lion King.”
“You’re right.” Pete smiled. “I guess life really is like the movies.”
“Just not my life,” Jane whispered. Please, not my life.
Chapter Seventy-Two
Reluctantly, Pete set Mark on the blanket and reached for his duffel bag.
“I’ll walk you to the door,” Jane said, stoically holding back a dam of tears.
“Come on, then.” He took her hand and towed her to the front door just as the shuttle pulled up out front.
“You should have let us take you to the airport,” Jane said again.
“I want to remember you here, at the house, just like you were the first night I came home.”
She gave him a sad smile. “I hope you can think of better nights than that one to remember.”
“I don’t know . . .” Pete grinned. “How many couples do you know who can say they spent their f
irst date getting arrested?” He set his bag down and pulled her close for a last hug and kiss.
Madison toddled from the family room to the door, trying to squeeze in between them as she clung to their legs. Pete looked down at her.
“Da-da,” she babbled, holding her arms up.
Pete knelt and kissed the top of her head. “Not much of a birthday present, your dad leaving like this.” When he stood again, there were tears in his eyes. He looked at Jane.
“I came home six months ago to nothing—no one. Today, I’m leaving a new man with a family and the gospel.” He touched her face one last time. “Thank you.”
“Come home to your family,” Jane whispered, her heart breaking as she watched him walk across the lawn toward the shuttle. “Please, come home.”
* * *
Date: Tue, 27 July 2004 8:14 AM
From: “Jane Warner”
To: “Peter Bryant”
Subject: I miss you
Peter, you’ve ruined me. Thirty years of sleeping alone is all down the drain after one week of sharing a bed with you. I couldn’t sleep ALL night. The bed seemed so empty. Everything is empty. The house is too quiet. I cooked too much dinner. It’s hard to imagine you’re so far away when just last week was the happiest day of my life at your baptism. Please tell me this is going to get easier . . .
Date: Sat, 31 July 2004 4:10 PM
From: “Peter Bryant”
To: “Jane Warner”
Subject: You too
Jane, I’m sorry you’re having trouble sleeping. Honestly, I’ve been so exhausted that hasn’t been a problem for me—yet. I put our wedding picture up, and all the guys told me what a hot wife I have. I also won the award for “most accomplished while off duty.” Another guy got married, and a couple of other guys’ wives had babies, but no one could compete with getting married, getting baptized, and having twins—not to mention getting arrested . . .
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