by Julia London
Levi shrugged. “Jackson said it.”
“Jackson? Who’s Jackson?”
“He’s in my camp. He has a bear whistle.”
“No, Mommy was not crazy,” Asher said firmly. “Jackson was teasing you.”
That seemed to satisfy Levi, who turned back to his Transformers. Riley, however, stared at Asher as if she desired more of a denial, more defense of Susanna. When Asher didn’t offer it, she walked into the den.
Had Susanna been crazy? That depended on whether or not one would call bipolar disorder—a medical condition affecting the chemical balance in her brain—the result of a bad set of genes or just . . . crazy? Asher didn’t know and didn’t care anymore. If Susanna had or hadn’t been crazy had no bearing on their life now. She’d been bipolar and the drinking hadn’t helped, and she’d been selfish and cruel to him, but in her own way, when she’d been sober and on an even keel, she’d been a great mom. Asher was determined to keep as much of Susanna’s troubled history from his children for as long as he could. He knew he couldn’t hide it forever, but he wanted his children to have the memory of the mother they loved, of the mother who’d taken them for picnics and done art projects with them and read to them every night. He wanted his kids to have that Susanna. Not the other one. Not the one he’d had.
The sound of a car in the drive was a relief. “There she is,” he said. He wiped his hands on a dish towel and strode to the door, the kids on his heels.
Jane didn’t seem to notice them as she walked up the drive; she was on her phone and juggling a few canvas grocery bags. She was wearing sunglasses on the top of her head, jeans that rode low on her hips, and a tight-fitting tie-dyed T-shirt with a peace symbol painted on the chest. It matched the small peace symbol on the bumper of her car. A part of a tattoo peeked out from the top of her jeans, and that caught Asher’s attention, intriguing him. Her hair, which he’d only seen wet or tied in a funky knot at her nape, was down, wild and wavy, hanging below her shoulders.
Here he was once again thinking that his nanny was sexy, and he tried not to look at the tease of a tattoo.
“It wasn’t like that,” she said into the phone. “It was more like I’m not entitled to know. Like I have no right to ask who—”
She happened to look up and see Asher and his children standing almost shoulder to shoulder, looking at her.
“Ah . . . hey, can I call you back? I just got back to work and the family is . . . is right here.” She smiled. “Something like that. No, I’ll call you later tonight. Bye.” She snapped the phone shut and shoved it into the pocket of her jeans. “Hi,” she said warily to the three of them.
“We’ve been waiting for you forever!” Levi said loudly. Asher put his hand on his son’s shoulder.
“You are waiting for me?” Jane looked at Asher. “But . . . I had the afternoon off. I reminded you.”
“Right, I know you did. But I’ve had something come up at the last minute and need you to cover for me, please.” He glanced at his watch again. Tara would be here any moment. “I need to leave in about fifteen minutes. I was making the kids a PB&J,” he said, gesturing to the kitchen. “If you could finish that up, that would be great. Thanks.” He started inside.
“Wait . . . are you leaving?” Jane asked, sounding a little incredulous.
“I have to go to a meeting. It can’t be helped.”
“But I had the day off.”
“You had the afternoon off,” Riley corrected.
“Riley, butt out,” Asher said, and to Jane, “Look, I’m sorry about the last-minute change, but I can’t miss this opportunity. And you’re here now, so . . . no problem, right?” He thought there better not be—he was paying her a small fortune and providing her room and board.
“It’s just that I thought I had the rest of the day off,” Jane said, heaving her bags into one hand so that she could push her loose hair behind her ear with the other. “We agreed, after three on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”
“Jane, we painted alligators today!” Levi said loudly.
“Wow, you did?” she asked, but her gaze—amber brown and challenging—was locked on Asher.
Those eyes, the hair, and the bit of tattoo he could see were distracting to the man in Asher. “Jane. I am going to meet with two representatives from AT&T. We could potentially land a huge account here.” The sound of Tara’s car on the drive reached him. “I obviously can’t miss this, so I am asking you to please stay with the kids tonight.”
Jane frowned. “All right.”
“Thank you. I often have these sorts of events. We’ll just have to be flexible.” He started toward the house again.
“I guess you mean that I should be flexible.”
Asher hesitated, uncertain if he’d heard her right. He glanced back. Oh, he’d heard her right—Jane bore the international expression of feminine ire. “Is there a problem?” he asked.
“Jane, do you want to see my alligator?” Levi asked, oblivious to the tension. Riley, however, took a seat on a stone bench, as if she was enjoying it.
“Hello, everyone!” Tara called, sashaying into their midst wearing a gold minidress. “What are you doing out here?”
“Getting ready to leave,” Asher said. “Do I need anything?”
“Just your brilliantly creative mind.”
“Then we should be going.”
“Excuse me?” Jane said, drawing his attention back to her. “I am not available Thursday night—just in case you have an emergency, that is.”
Tara’s smile faded.
Again, Jane pushed her hair back, but in a way that made Asher think she was anxious. “I mean, tonight, you have an emergency meeting, which is fine, but you gave me the time off and now you are basically taking it back. I’m doing some research and there are some people I need to see, and I’ve made plans Thursday, and I want to make sure we are on the same page here.”
“Is Jane in trouble?” Levi asked of no one in particular.
“Close,” Riley said gleefully.
“Hey, Riley, Levi, will you show me the pool?” Tara asked, gliding past Asher, holding out her hand to Levi.
“You’ve seen the pool, like, a million times,” Riley said.
“Riley, go with Tara,” Asher said low.
“Dad—”
“Go,” he said sternly. With a sigh, Riley stood and followed Tara and Levi, who was racing to the wrought-iron gate that led to the pool area.
Asher motioned to the house. “Come in, Jane,” he said tightly and stepped back, allowing her to pass by him.
“Thanks,” she said and swept by him, her bags inadvertently banging against his leg as she passed. She stepped into the narrow mudroom, where she dropped her bags and faced him.
Asher shut the door behind them and leaned back against it. “All right, Jane. Whatever the problem we’re having here, let’s get it out in the open.”
She hesitated, studying him a moment. “Okay, here it is. I am usually a team player and I wouldn’t mind, under normal circumstances, filling in. But you’re taking back the time you gave me to work on my thesis and I want to make sure we are clear about that.”
“Oh, I think you’ve made it very clear,” he said sardonically.
“Good.”
“Now allow me to be clear,” he said, pushing away from the door, stepping closer to her. “Sometimes things come up. Sometimes I need you to do a little more than what we agreed, and I think I’m paying you enough to expect a little flexibility.”
“Good point,” Jane said pertly. “But I will point out that I’m working enough overtime that I should expect you won’t take advantage of me.”
Jane Aaron had some spunk to her and some amazing amber brown eyes. And that damn tattoo was going to kill Asher with curiosity. He narrowed his gaze on her. “Do you think that perhaps you are making a big deal out of a little thing?”
“Do you mean a little thing to you? I think if I allow you an inch, what’s to keep you from taking a mile?”
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No one ever challenged Asher so boldly. When someone disagreed with him, it was usually with deference. Jane Aaron was interesting, and Asher moved closer to her in the mudroom, stepping around her bags. “I think you could give me the benefit of the doubt, Jane. I don’t like time away from my kids, and I wouldn’t ask you to do this if it weren’t absolutely necessary.”
She lifted her chin a little. “I’m just protecting my boundaries.”
“Don’t worry about your boundaries. I will protect them for you.”
They were locked in a standoff, one that was scented by her perfume, which, he realized, he was close enough to smell. Then Jane suddenly smiled, as if she’d won the debate. “Then I guess we’re on the same page. Have a good evening, Asher,” she added, and dipped down to pick up her bags.
“I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” he said, regarding her suspiciously.
“Okay. See you then.” She passed him so quickly that Asher didn’t have time to move. Her arm brushed against him as she made her way with her bags into the kitchen, leaving the scent of her perfume to linger after her.
14
Asher did not return in a couple of hours as he’d said, and Jane ended up putting Levi to bed. When she walked by Riley’s room, she saw Riley at her desk, writing furiously in a bound notebook. When Riley saw Jane, however, she got up and came to the door.
“Want to watch TV?” Jane asked.
“No, thanks,” Riley said and closed the door.
Nothing like a little rejection to end the evening.
Jane retreated to the guesthouse and called Jonathan. “Hi,” she said, smiling when he answered. “It’s me. Sorry about earlier, but they were all standing in the driveway when I got home.”
“No problem,” Jonathan said. “I got that the king was on his throne. So tell me what happened at the hospital today.”
“Oh, man,” Jane said and sat on one of the leather armchairs. “Talk about an exercise in futility. The woman was nice enough once we got past who I was and why I was asking, but it’s such a chicken and egg thing.”
“How so?”
“She said they don’t keep records by year, and that if I wanted to know who was born on April twenty-fifth, nineteen eighty, I would have to bring her specific names. I told her I couldn’t do that, obviously, because I don’t know what my name was, and she said there was nothing she could do.”
“That really sucks,” Jonathan said. “So what are you going to do now?”
“I don’t know,” Jane said. “I’ve already Googled everything I can think of and came up empty. It’s like I don’t exist.” She thought about the night she’d been floating in the pool, talking with Asher about how invisible one could be in the world.
“What about the local paper?”
“It’s really small and comes out once a week. It’s mostly about kids and local sports. I mean, there’s not even a website, can you believe it?”
“Still, you could go to their office. I bet they have microfiche. It’s at least worth a shot.”
“It’s the only shot I have unless I can think of another angle or, by some divine miracle, come up with a name.” She sighed and pressed her palm to her forehead. “Let’s talk about something else. What’s going on with you?”
“Not much,” he said lightly. “Just getting ready for the Foghorn gig. It’s on the nineteenth.”
“Perfect. I’m putting it down now,” she said, jotting it on her thesis folder. She yawned. “Listen, I should go. I’ve got to get up early and get Levi to camp.”
“Yeah, okay. . . . Janey?”
“Yes?”
“I miss you,” Jonathan said softly.
Jane hesitated. She cared deeply for Jonathan, but she didn’t know what to say to that, because in that moment, she didn’t miss him like she should. Honestly, she had yet to miss him like she should.
“Wow,” Jonathan said. “Your silence is devastating.”
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I love you, and you can’t even say it anymore,” Jonathan said, his tone hard. “When did that happen?”
“God, Jonathan, please just . . . stop,” Jane pleaded.
“Stop loving you?” he asked sharply.
“Stop pushing me. Please stop pushing me! I know you aren’t happy with the way things are, but I can’t . . . I can’t make it better right now.”
She heard the slow release of his breath. “That’s pretty definitive, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know. But at least it’s honest.”
“Okay. Great. Got it.”
She closed her eyes. “Please don’t do that,” she said wearily.
“So let me get this straight—I can’t talk to you, I can’t be with you, I can’t say I love you, and I can’t be mad. Am I forgetting anything?”
“You’re making it worse, Jonathan.”
“What do you want from me, Jane? To pretend it’s all okay for your sake? You broke my heart!” he exclaimed, his voice rough with pain.
Jane caught her breath. That she couldn’t be what he needed her to be was also heartbreaking. “I know,” she murmured.
“Okay, Jane,” he said, sounding resigned now. “Look, you’re coming to the Foghorn gig. Just . . . just do what you have to do, and think about it, and we’ll talk then. All right? Let’s just call a truce for a few weeks.”
She wanted to argue. She wanted to assure him that was unnecessary, but in truth, it was freeing. “Okay.”
Jonathan was silent for one long minute, almost as if he expected her to clarify or take it back. When she didn’t, he said simply, “I’ll see you then,” and clicked off.
It was a little frightening, Jane thought, that she didn’t feel as sad as she did relieved. She didn’t feel right at all, didn’t feel like she belonged there with him now.
The thought startled her.
“You don’t believe that,” she said aloud. She was just angry and tired of arguing. Maybe it was that she didn’t know where she fit in this world just now. The longer she was here, the more she wondered if Houston was really right for her. But it wasn’t as if she believed Cedar Springs was really the right fit, either.
She was floating along, looking for something to anchor her, and she wondered, sitting in that posh guesthouse, with the phone still in her hand, how long she could float before she sank.
“I need a drink,” she muttered and glanced at the clock. Ten past ten. She remembered Asher had been drinking a beer the other night, and where there was beer, there might be vodka and cranberry juice. Carla had told her to help herself to anything in the kitchen. Jane wasn’t certain she’d meant the alcohol, but then again, she hadn’t specifically ruled it out, so . . . Jane tossed the phone aside.
In the kitchen, she flipped on the light over the stove so she could see what she was doing and opened the fridge. Damn. No vodka. No wine. But there was beer, and that would do.
Jane took a seat at the kitchen island. She’d taken only a sip when Asher suddenly walked into the kitchen, still wearing a tie, but the suit coat gone. Jane froze, the beer bottle halfway to her mouth. “Ah . . . hi,” she said self-consciously. “I didn’t know you were home.”
“About ten minutes.” He looked at her beer.
Jane did, too. “Oh. Carla said I should help myself—”
“Of course,” he said, cutting her off. “I think I’ll join you.” He walked to the fridge and retrieved a beer. He twisted off the top, took a swig, and said, “I’m sorry I’m late.”
He said it tightly, as if he had to force himself to say it. “It’s okay,” Jane said, waving her hand loosely.
“No, it’s not okay.” He turned around to face her, leaning back against the counter. “I told you I’d be gone only a couple of hours, but I ran into a problem. I should explain something here. My firm has been struggling the last year. Our managing partner is fighting cancer, so now I have his job, plus my old one. We’ve lost some major accounts in the last year with the d
ownturn in the economy, and we really need a big account like AT&T. This opportunity popped up, and I felt like I needed to stick around.” He took a sip of beer. “Just so you know I am not jerking you around.”
Wow. Jane had no idea. He looked tired, too. Jane smiled a little. “It’s really no problem, Asher. You were right—I was here, so it was no big deal.” She lowered her gaze to her beer. What else would she have done? Work on her thesis? What a joke.
“What’s your excuse?” Asher asked.
That brought her head up. “My excuse?”
He nodded to her beer.
“Oh yeah,” she said sheepishly and gave him a shrug before taking a small sip. “Boyfriend.”
“Oh.” He nodded. “That’s never easy.”
“That’s an understatement,” she said with a snort. “He wants to get married,” she blurted. She had no idea why she’d told him, and she honestly expected him to say something like That’s nice and walk out.
But Asher didn’t do that. He studied her a moment. “Are you going to marry him?”
“That is the problem,” Jane said, squirming a little in her chair. “I don’t know what I am going to do. I don’t know if I am ready for that. The thought of planning a wedding right now is so . . . alien.”
“It’s a big decision,” he casually agreed.
It was a huge decision, growing bigger and bigger each day. “It’s not him,” she said, feeling the need to vindicate Jonathan somehow. “It’s just that I want to be really, really, one hundred percent sure, and I’m not even that sure of myself.”
Asher shrugged a little and drank from his beer. “I don’t think you can ever be one hundred percent sure. You never know what marriage is going to be like until you are in it and breathing the same air.”
Jane laughed a little. “We’ve breathed the same air.”
“But marriage is different. I can’t really describe how it’s different—it just is. Trust me.”
He said it as if he was warning her. She wondered what he knew. “Do you mean you weren’t certain when you decided to get married?”
He gave her a wry smile. “No. I was one hundred percent certain.”
