by Mary Frame
“I do. Family matters to both of us.”
“I think my parents will love you just as much as I do.”
More silence at that pronouncement, but Granny does point the gun down at the ground, so it feels like a small victory.
“Will you at least show up for the final challenge?” I call out.
It takes a few long seconds, but then there is an answer on the breeze. A tentative one. “Maybe.”
“What happened to not giving up?”
Silence.
Granny lifts the gun again.
“All right, all right. I’m leaving, but I’m not finished. Please show up Tuesday night, Reese. You have all of tomorrow to think it over. That’s all I ask.”
I immediately drive home and give the news to my parents. Momma already heard from Martha, so it’s not much of a surprise.
What is a surprise is the big hug she gives me.
“You know we love Abby, but I’ve long suspected she’s not the one for you.”
Of all the surprises I’ve been dealt today, it’s a small one in comparison, but it still takes me aback. “You have?”
“Of course, baby. She’s a bit unsteady. You need someone more independent like yourself. Someone who will make you happy and will push you in ways that help you grow, not hold you back.” Momma meets my eyes square on. “Does this girl do that for you?”
A slow smile spreads my face. “She does.”
“Then that’s all I can ask for. Along with some help for Abby. Do you think she’ll talk to someone about her troubles?”
“I’m not sure. I can only hope.”
I finally head back to Jude’s as the sun is setting and find him still reading out on the back porch.
Plopping on the chair in front of him, I lean forward with elbows on my knees. “I really screwed up with Reese. I need to fix it.”
His eyes don’t leave his book. “Is that right?” he murmurs.
“I need your help.”
Now his gaze lifts to mine. “What did you have in mind?”
“It has to be big. A romantic gesture.” Sudden hope lifts my mood. Jude loves romance. “Got any ideas?”
“You could go to her house with a boom box. Blast some Peter Gabriel in front of her door.”
I shake my head. “That’s lame. And Granny might shoot me. I need a chance to see her and talk to her, explain myself and apologize. You know, really grovel.”
He pets Mr. Bojangles with one hand. “Ride up on a white horse to her little dive apartment and rescue her. Or, you know, a stretch limo. And then she can rescue you right back.”
I frown. Is he even listening? “She doesn’t have an apartment. And where would I get a limo?”
He snaps. “I’ve got it. Tell her parents, no one puts baby in the corner.”
I roll my eyes but can’t keep the laugh from escaping. “Is this really all you have? Stuff from bad eighties rom coms?”
“What else is there?”
“I need to show her I choose her. That I’ll always choose her. And I need to do it in a big way.”
He puts the book down and sits up, leaning toward me. “And how exactly did you want to do it, Casanova?”
“I might have an idea. But I’ll need your help.”
24
Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.
—Helen Keller
Reese
In the end, I almost don’t go to the last Bedlam event, but then I realize I want to. I have to.
Not because Fitz asked—even though I have to admit he’s a big draw—but also because I’m not an ostrich anymore. I won’t hide with my head in the sand. Which actually isn’t an accurate description, because the ostrich merely digs holes for its nests and then they stick their heads in several times a day to turn their eggs, making it appear they are hiding— But I digress.
It’s nearly six and surprisingly quiet when I pull up at Jude’s. No extra cars out front or people milling about like normal.
Inside, the house is quiet and empty.
“Hello?”
“Out back,” Jude calls.
He’s in the backyard. Alone.
“Where is everyone?” I ask.
He smiles and lifts his megaphone. “Welcome to the final round of Bedlam!”
“Ugh.” I cover my ears. “It’s just me. And we’re like three feet apart, you turd.”
His grin widens and then he leans forward and hands me a folded piece of white paper. “This is for you.”
I give him a questioning look, but he says nothing, so I take the paper and open it.
You will find the first clue in the building with the most stories in every town you go.
I meet Jude’s eyes. “What is this?”
“The final game. A treasure hunt.”
“Where’s Fitz?” I glance around the empty yard, but he’s not hiding in the hedges. “Did he already start?”
“You’ll have to find out for yourself, babies.”
“This better be a fair competition, Jude.”
“It will be, Tootsie Roll, I promise. Now go solve the first riddle to find out where to go next.”
I roll my eyes and lift the paper. “This is child’s play. It’s clearly the library.”
“Then you better get on it.”
I frown at him, but what else can I do? I’m not gonna argue. So I leave Jude and the house behind and go to the library.
Once I get there, I realize I have no idea where to look for the next clue.
Quite a few students are making use of the desks set up for study sessions, talking quietly or working on laptops. No one is paying me any mind.
Except for Beast, who is standing at the information desk.
“What are you doing? Do you work here?” I ask, not really expecting a response.
And I don’t get one. At least, not a verbal one.
Beast hands me a book.
It’s my book. The one I lent Fitz. Northanger Abbey.
A piece of paper flutters to the ground when I open the front cover.
I pick it up.
You will find your next clue where it all began, where cups of pens fly and bulletin boards stand vacant, but no longer.
The housing office. The next clue must be on the board. Are they even open now?
I glance up to see if I can get anything out of Beast—even a nonverbal cue might be helpful—but he’s gone.
And before I can question why I’m continuing this game, which has clearly been arranged by Fitz, not Jude, my feet carry me out of the library and toward the housing office. I want to see where this whole thing leads.
The housing office is empty—they close at four and it’s nearly six—but the door is unlocked when I push it open. There’s a flyer attached to the board with a pin.
I can be found in a pen, but I am not ink. I am named after a perennial plant and was forced to wear a dress.
Begonia. I pull out the pin and examine it. It’s an old Victorian style hatpin, all gleaming silver with a small pink rose at the top. I leave the office with a smile, remembering to pull the door on my way out instead of push.
The pen outside the barn is empty; Begonia must be off somewhere else for the evening. But wrapped around the fence is something colorful. I unwrap the item. It’s a canvas bag tie-dyed in bright colors. Words on the side read, I like big books and I cannot lie.
I pull it off the fence and open it up. Inside is the next clue.
I am flora not fauna, I am shrubbery not grass. You’ll thank me not to mention you and this word in the same sentence. Find your next clue under my foliage to the northeast.
I laugh. The bushes. Back at Jude’s? Must be in the northeast corner of the yard. And now I have a bag to put all the clues and items I’ve gathered. How very useful.
He remembered.
Ten minutes later, I’m walking back into Jude’s. It’s empty.
In the backyard, in the northeast corner, there’s a present. It’s wrapped in Chri
stmas paper.
Excitement flickers through me and I rip it open.
Inside is a can of Spam, which makes me chuckle, along with the next clue.
Some take me in the morning, some take me in the evening, but I never actually leave.
The shower.
It doesn’t escape me that Fitz is leading me to all the places we spent time together. And giving me presents to show he listened. And he cares.
In the shower, there’s another Christmas present. I tear it open to find another old book. Pride and Prejudice. Not a first edition, but inside he’s written a quote from the book along with the clue.
I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.
I blink away tears. It’s from the final scene, when Mr. Darcy once again declares his intentions for Elizabeth Bennet.
Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, to be precise.
I read the next clue.
I have four legs, one head, and a foot. And twinkle lights overhead. I also rhyme with head. And I don’t mean that in a dirty way. But maybe I do.
I laugh and then take a deep breath, before walking down the hall to the room. The door is shut. I’m so nervous my palms are sweating. I can’t breathe properly. I gulp in some air before pushing the door open.
Fitz is there, alone, dressed in a grey button-up shirt and dark jeans.
His smile is hopeful and tentative. He’s holding a small, wrapped box.
I’m still clutching my bag with all of the papers, Northanger Abbey, the Spam, and the hatpin inside, Pride and Prejudice in the other hand.
“You came.”
“How did you know I’d get to the end?” I ask.
His smile is tentative. “I knew you wouldn’t give up.”
“Risky.”
“It’s how I roll.” And then we stare at each other for long seconds before he startles and holds out the box in his hand, wrapped in Santa-covered paper. “This is for you.”
I can’t take it though. My hands are full. I hold the items up a little and it’s like he’s just now realized I’m holding all of these things.
“Oh.” He puts the box down on the bed, then takes everything from me and puts it all on the dresser and his hands are shaking a little and he’s nervous.
He’s nervous about me.
The idea is so startling and thrilling, I laugh out loud.
“Are you laughing at me?” His playful tone belies the hurt words, his eyes crinkling with mirth.
“Yes. I am.”
My hands are finally free and he hands me the little box. “Here.”
I tear it open. It’s a small jewelry box.
My eyes fly to his, brows lifting.
“That’s not what you think it is. I mean, we’re a little young for what you’re thinking, but I won’t take it off the table for some time in the future.”
Heart thumping, palms clammy with nerves, I open the little box and laugh.
It’s the key.
I hold it up and meet Fitz’s eyes, which are gazing back at me, both hopeful and a little uncertain.
“I’m so sorry about everything,” he says. “But everyone knows the full truth now. And I want to take you home to meet my parents before they leave for Florida. I already told them all about you and they want to meet you too.”
“They’re not upset about Abby?”
“Not at all. I mean, they’re upset Abby’s not doing well, but when I told Momma I had a new girl, she said, ‘Praise the Lord!’ And then she said she was happier than a mule in a pickle patch.”
I laugh, my heart lifting with his words, easing some of my anxiety. “She was happy you and Abby are over?”
“Apparently she’s had some concerns about Abby for a while.”
“Sounds like a common theme,” I say with a grimace.
“I don’t want to talk about her anymore. I want to talk about us. Can you forgive me?”
“You gave me a book,” I say. “Of course I can forgive you.”
He whoops and then I’m in his arms, his mouth on mine, lingering for a moment before we separate long enough for him to say, “You know, if I have to buy you a book every time I screw up, you’re gonna need a bigger box.”
I laugh and then we’re kissing again and my hands thread through his hair, but the key gets tangled in it too.
I pull back far enough to hold the key between us. “Does this mean we’re going to share the room?”
He rubs the back of his neck with one hand, keeping the other around my waist. “No. I wouldn’t put you in that position. I’m moving in with Annabel. She found an apartment, but she needs a roommate. It won’t be till next month but I can sleep on the couch till then.” He shrugs. “It doesn’t matter to me.”
“So, this means I’ve won?” I can’t stop smiling.
“I think it means we both have.”
The End
Also by Mary Frame
Coming next, Jude and Annabel’s story! Geektastic will be releasing later in 2019! Stay tuned . . .
To get updates, visit http://www.authormaryframe.com
About the Author
Sign up for the newsletter! www.authormaryframe.com
Mary Frame is a full-time mother and wife with a full-time job. She has no idea how she manages to write novels except that it involves copious amounts of wine. She doesn’t enjoy writing about herself in third person, but she does enjoy reading, writing, dancing, and damaging the eardrums of her coworkers when she randomly decides to sing to them.
She lives in Reno, Nevada, with her husband, two children, and a border collie named Stella.
She LOVES hearing from readers and will not only respond but likely begin stalking them while tossing out hearts and flowers and rainbows! If that doesn’t creep you out, email her: [email protected]
Follow her on Twitter: @marewulf
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Imperfect Series—All books are stand-alone and can be read in any order! With a guaranteed HEA!
Book One: Imperfect Chemistry – Lucy and Jensen
Book Two: Imperfectly Criminal – Freya and Dean
Book Three: Practically Imperfect – Sam and Gemma
Book Four: Picture Imperfect – Gwen and Marc
Book Five: Imperfect Strangers – Bethany and Brent
Extraordinary Series—Not stand-alone novels! Must be read in order!
Book One: Anything But Extraordinary
Book Two: A Life Less Extraordinary
Book Three: Extraordinary World
Dorky Duet—Coming soon!
Ridorkulous
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