Dying To Marry

by Janelle Taylor

  Jake had loved Holly his entire life, since first grade, when the Boones had moved into the house next to the Morrows, but childhood sweethearts and soul mates had given way to super-sensitive puberty: Holly had realized how the Down Hillers, including herself, were perceived, and she’d taken it very hard. Perhaps harder than anyone.

  What makes us so different? she’d asked over and over. Just because they have money and we don’t? Nice clothes and big houses and we don’t?

  It wasn’t that she wanted to be an Up Hiller, he knew; she was proud of who she was, even if she didn’t always know it. She was proud of her family and her friends. But Jake always knew that he was out of the running because she dreamed of something else, something Up Hill-esque for herself. He’d understood her so well, then.

  Just once, after their terrible argument, he’d wondered if her bad reputation had been deserved. If perhaps she had given herself to the Up Hill boys, trying to make them like her, hoping one would fall for her and take her away into their world. He’d immediately cursed himself for going there. He’d been hurt was all, terribly hurt, and he’d wanted to hurt her back by thinking something awful about her.

  Only once, when they were fifteen, Holly had told him that none of it was true, that she’d never slept with any of those boys, that her reputation was completely undeserved, and he believed her. She’d never had to tell him again. He knew the stories and lies floating around school and in the boys’ bathrooms were all lies. About Holly, Gayle, Lizzie, and Felicia. And a few other Down Hill girls. When he was sixteen and seventeen, and desperately in love with Holly, he’d wanted to tell her how he felt about her, but he’d been afraid. He’d known she wanted more for herself than just a Down Hill boy, even though she’d never said such a thing, and he hadn’t wanted to take her dreams away from her. She deserved more than him. And so he’d loved her silently. But on prom night, when she was leaving the day after next—after graduation—when he couldn’t keep it inside any longer, when he planned to ask if he could come with her, he overheard her telling Felicia at the senior prom that he wasn’t good enough.

  It had been one thing for him to think himself not good enough for her. It was another to hear Holly say aloud that she thought so, too.

  “Marry Jake Boone?” Holly had said as she’d leaned against the low stone wall in the gym’s courtyard. “Don’t be stupid Flea. He represents everything I’m leaving. He’s the last man on earth I’d ever marry!”

  “Well I’ll be sure to never propose to you, Holly,” he’d said flatly.

  Holly and Felicia had whirled around, shock on their faces. Holly’s mouth opened to speak, but he put the punch cups down and then walked away into the night.

  “Jake, wait!” Holly had screamed. “Stop, please!”

  But he hadn’t stopped. And he’d never seen Holly again.

  He represents everything I’m leaving ... the last man on earth I’d ever marry.

  “Jake?” Holly said, jolting him out of his memories. “Did you hear me? You look like you’re a million miles away.”

  “Not a million. Not even a mile,” he said with a wistful grin.

  She stared at him, and he wondered if she thought he was referring to prom night.

  “Arianna Miller is a lot of things,” Jake began, getting back to their conversation, “but underhanded has never been one of them. She’s made it very clear that she wants Dylan for herself. I think she’d go after him straight up—not try to hurt Lizzie or break up the engagement. Pru is similar.”

  She regarded him for a moment, then slung her purse over her shoulder. “Look, Jake, I don’t know what your relationship is to Pru Dunhill—or the Dunhills, for that matter. Lizzie did tell me that you’ve become very close to the entire family. So perhaps I should work with someone more impartial .”

  “I didn’t realize we were working together, Holly,” he said without expression.

  “Jake, I’m really worried. I don’t know what to do. Maybe I should just go to the police.”

  “You’d be wasting your time,” he told her. “I’ve already discussed the case with the police. They’re only too happy to have me working on it so they don’t have to.”

  “Fine,” she said. “Then I’ll investigate on my own.”

  He sat straight up in his chair and looked her in the eye. “Holly, I have a bad feeling about these incidents and notes. Someone’s seriously bent out of shape about this wedding, and I don’t want you investigating on your own.”

  “You just said you wouldn’t work with me. I don’t think we’d make a very good team, anyway,” Holly said.

  “I agree with you there. So why don’t you just leave it to me.”

  She looked as though she wanted to argue, but decided against it. “Thank you for your time.”

  And with that, she stood and left, leaving behind the faint scent of her perfume and too many memories.

  “Holly Morrow, stop thinking about the dirt this minute,” Lizzie gently scolded as she led the way into Morrow’s Pub. “It happened three hours ago and I forgot about it two hours ago.”

  “But—” Holly began. She couldn’t get the dirt mound or the note or anything Lizzie had told her out of her mind. Nor could she get Jake Boone out of her mind. For the past hour, she’d tried to concentrate on Lizzie’s well-being, but Jake’s face kept intruding.

  “But nothing, Hol,” Lizzie said, taking Holly’s chin in her hand. “It won’t do me any good to dwell on it or try to figure out who did it. So why should I let the person victimize me twice by making me all upset when I’m happier than I’ve ever been?”

  Holly squeezed Lizzie’s hand. Her cousin never ceased to amaze Holly with her positive outlook. I could learn a lot from Lizzie, she thought.

  “Now, you just forget all about it, which you will anyway because once you taste Mama’s famous macaroni and cheese, you’ll forget everything but your taste buds.”

  “She’s not kidding,” said a familiar female voice.

  Holly turned to find her beloved Aunt Louise smiling at her, a tray laden with two heaping, hot plates of macaroni and cheese, and two tall lemonades.

  “Lizzie, baby, come take this so I can hug the dickens out of my favorite niece!”

  Lizzie took the tray and set it down at a table near the picture window, and Holly flew into her aunt’s arms. Louise Morrow smelled heavenly, of comfort food and her trademark White Shoulders perfume. Fifty-five with short, graying blond hair and a voice husky from cigarette smoking—both hers and her customers’—Louise squeezed Holly close.

  “You look absolutely beautiful, Holly,” Aunt Louise said, tucking a strand of Holly’s brown hair behind her ear. “Like the city gal you always wanted to be.”

  “Thanks, Aunt Louise,” Holly said. “You look wonderful, too. It’s so good to see you!”

  “Okay, you two,” Louise said. “Sit down and enjoy. Holler if you need anything.”

  Lizzie and Holly sat and dug into their feast. It was Morrow family tradition to have Louise’s famous macaroni and cheese at homecomings, and Louise made the best mac and cheese—Holly’s favorite—in the world.

  “Oh, Holly, wait until you see the wedding gown I have in mind,” Lizzie said around a mouthful. “I saw it in the window of Bettina’s Bridal a few months ago and fell madly in love. I still can’t believe it—me, Lizzie Morrow, shopping in Bettina’s for my wedding gown, marrying the most gorgeous, most sweetest man there ever was. It’s like a dream—well, except for the few stupid incidents lately.” She took a long sip of her lemonade. “I’m not going to let it get to me, Holly. You were absolutely right earlier—no one is going to stop me from marrying the man I love.”

  Holly smiled. Lizzie had her there. She had said those words to Lizzie. She might not like what was going on in Troutville, but Lizzie had the right to love the man of her choice, no matter who didn’t like it. “That’s the spirit, Liz. You’re absolutely right. All right—I’m dying to hear about the gown.”

&nbs
p; Lizzie grinned. “It’s totally different than the one I always thought I’d want. Remember how we’d spend hours talking about the wedding gowns of our dreams, and Flea would sketch them?”

  Holly smiled at the memory. The four friends had whiled away many afternoons discussing in detail the style, shape, length and material of their dream gowns. Lizzie had always described a low-cut, sparkly number that an A-list actress might wear to the Academy Awards. Holly had envisioned lace, lots of lace, and a long train.

  “Bettina described it as a Victorian style,” Lizzie continued. “It’s very high-necked, with long sleeves with little puffs at the shoulders. Very simple. It’s really lovely.”

  Holly glanced at Lizzie. Victorian? High-necked? Puffs?

  Simple?

  And nothing Lizzie loved could usually be called lovely. Elaborate, yes. Fun. High-style. Fabulous. Lovely wasn’t even a word Holly had ever heard come out of her cousin’s mouth.

  “The moment I saw it in the window,” Lizzie said, “I knew it was the dress I would marry Dylan in. I walked right into Bettina’s and asked to try it on—two months before we even got engaged. But I knew I’d marry him, Holly. I knew it the way they say you’ll know.”

  Holly smiled. “I’m so happy for you, Liz. You’re so in love. I can just imagine Bettina Tutweller demanding to see an engagement ring before she’d allow you to try on one of her gowns.”

  “Oh, she was much worse than that,” Lizzie said. “‘I’m sure you’d prefer the selections at Mary Lou’s Down Hill,’ Bettina said to me in that snooty tone of hers. ‘They have a couple of wedding gowns there—more in your price range, too, I’m sure.’”

  “That witch!” Holly said, outraged. “How dare she!”

  “I told her I preferred the dress in her window,” Lizzie said, “and repeated that I wanted to try it on. Bettina told me I’d need an appointment—and that it was customary for only brides-to-be to try on her gowns.”

  Holly’s mouth fell open to the table.

  “And then she said, ‘And I don’t see a diamond ring on any of your fingers, Lizzie.’”

  Holly gasped. “And we’re going there tomorrow morning to shop for dresses?”

  “It’s where my dream dress is, Holly,” Lizzie explained. “Believe me, if Flea’s shop sold wedding gowns or bridesmaids dresses, I’d only shop there. But Flea doesn’t do bridal, so I’m going with my dream dress at Bettina’s.”

  “That witch doesn’t deserve your patronage!” Holly complained.

  “Am I supposed to cut off my nose to spite my face?” Lizzie responded. “Not go to the best shop in the county because the woman who owns it is a jerk? Or am I supposed to get the dress of my dreams, which is in that shop, and the hell with Bettina?”

  Holly had to ponder that one.

  “Do I let Bettina win by not buying the dress I really want?” Lizzie asked. “No way.”

  “I don’t know, Lizzie. I guess when you put it like that, you do lose by not going to Bettina’s. I never thought of it that way.”

  “Oh, Holly,” Lizzie said, “there are a lot of ways to think about these things. If I reacted to every slight, I’d never be able to leave my house or Down Hill.”

  Every slight? Bettina had done more than slight Lizzie. And in any case, was this a way to live, to put up with “slights”?

  “Hol, Bettina’s comeuppance is being forced to fuss and fawn and wait on us hand and foot,” Lizzie said with a smile. “So eat up, Cousin. You’ll need your strength for trying on bridesmaid dresses tomorrow morning.”

  Holly wasn’t so sure it was comeuppance enough for Bettina, but it was something. “Let’s drive Bettina crazy,” Holly suggested. “Constantly change our minds and demand different sizes!”

  Lizzie cracked up. “Definitely.” She clinked her lemonade glass against Holly’s.

  “You two stop chattering and eat!” Lizzie’s mom scolded. “I have two more helpings for each of you waiting to get in your tummies.”

  Holly laughed and dug in, the delicious comfort food doing its job.

  I can learn a lot from Lizzie, Holly thought again. If only I could brush things off, she thought. If only I could stop worrying!

  But she couldn’t. After she’d stormed out of Jake Boone’s office an hour ago, she’d walked back to Lizzie’s, determined to find the person responsible for the “incidents” and the pile of dirt. With or without Jake’s help.

  Probably without, she thought, absently pushing around macaroni and cheese on her plate.

  Why does it have to be so complicated? she wondered. He was once my dearest friend, for so many years, and then one misconstrued comment and—

  Had he misconstrued what she’d said? Or had she said exactly what she meant, exactly what he’d heard?

  He represents everything I’m leaving. He’s the last man on earth I’d ever marry!

  She hadn’t meant it. Not a word of it. She’d simply been determined to ignore her feelings for him.

  Because I did love you, Jake Boone. Oh, how I loved you. But you were set on staying in Troutville, proving yourself, not letting anyone dictate how you felt or where you lived, and I wanted to hightail it away the moment I could.

  “Will you excuse me for a moment, Lizzie?” Holly asked. Lizzie nodded and began chatting animatedly with several of the regulars she knew well, as Holly walked as normally as she could to the ladies’ restroom, where she slid down on the cool tile, covered her face with her hands and cried.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “I’m nothing and I’m never gonna be nothing else, so what’s the point, Jake?”

  As sixteen-year-old Jimmy Morgan crossed his arms against his chest and kicked at the curb in front of Dunhill Mansion, Jake glanced at his watch and hoped Dylan would make an appearance soon. Jake and Dylan had promised to take Jimmy to a free rock concert in a neighboring town, and if Dylan didn’t show up in one minute, they’d have to leave without him. Despite his excitement for the concert, Jimmy was down on himself again, and Jake could use Dylan’s help in boosting him up.

  It had been Dylan who’d suggested several years ago that he and Jake donate their time to the River County Boys’ Club, which had been founded fifty years ago by Dylan’s grandfather, who’d been rebellious and surly and about to run away from home until he’d discovered an informal basketball “team” that showed up to play every Saturday, all players welcome. The team and the mix of adults and teens from all walks of life whose seemingly only common thread was a love of basketball, had changed Rockwell Dunhill’s life, and he’d opened the free club so that all teens would have somewhere to turn. Jimmy, who’d done time in a juvenile center for property damage and fighting, had begun turning up a few months ago, and Jake and Dylan, who volunteered at the center on Wednesday nights, had slowly befriended the teenager, mostly through their basketball playing ability. Dylan was the better player, and when Jimmy found out that Dylan was a Dunhill, he’d been enamored of him ever since. That a Dunhill could be “so cool” and speak to him like he was a person had made quite an impact on Jimmy. With Jimmy’s single mother’s permission, Jake and Dylan took Jimmy to special events a couple times a month, and his attitude had begun improving immensely.

  “Jimmy, you can do anything you want,” Jake told the boy. “I’m proof of that. It’s all up to you—not the amount of money you have—or don’t have. Not your past. Not anything. You always have the power to change your future. Your present.”

  “Jenny Johnson doesn’t think so,” Jimmy said.

  “Who’s Jenny Johnson?” Jake asked, suddenly understanding where Jimmy was coming from. There was a girl involved.

  “She’s only the prettiest, nicest, smartest girl in school,” Jimmy said. “But she’d never go out with me. She’s Up Hill, and I’m not, and that’s that.”

  “Bull,” Jake said. “How do you know all this if you haven’t asked her out?”

  “Like I need to?” Jimmy said. “She’d never go for me. She never talks to me.” />
  “Let me ask you something,” Jake said. “Do you catch her looking at you a lot?”

  Jimmy nodded. “All the time. Because she thinks I’m scum.”

  Jake smiled. “No, Jimmy. Because she likes you. A woman can say or do anything she wants, but if you find her looking at you a lot, you can count on the fact that she’s very interested in you.”

  “Really?” Jimmy asked, his face brightening.

  Jake nodded, and Jimmy bit his lip and dropped his arms. The boy hopped onto the hood of Jake’s car and leaned back, his arms behind his head on the windshield. “She’s really something. Really smart.”

  “Smart is good,” Jake agreed.

  “When she answers questions in English class,” Jimmy said, “you can tell she’s really read the book, really cared, you know?”

  “I know what you mean,” Jake said, suddenly thinking back ten years before to Holly in English class, passionately discussing Romeo and Juliet and how unfair it all was that two people who loved each other should be kept apart because of reasons that had nothing to do with them.

  He also remembered the way he’d catch Holly looking at him. He’d glance up—in class, in the park, at their houses, wherever—and he’d be surprised to find her staring at him. Sometimes, they would be staring at each other and it would take a few seconds before one of them realized it and glanced away uncomfortably. She had to know how much he loved her; it was in everything he said and did. But he didn’t know if she loved him, so he was never sure how to express his feelings.

  He shook his head at how silly he’d been then; he should have just walked right up to her and told her how he felt, but back then, he couldn’t.

  And for good reason, he thought. Because it turned out she hadn’t loved him, not at all.

  So who was he to tell Jimmy Morgan that this Jenny girl was interested just because she checked him out a lot? If Jimmy accepted what Jake had to say and declared his feelings to the girl and she rejected him, it could do serious damage to Jimmy’s shaky self-confidence.