by Lyn Cote
From her eyes he now learned much. Jane still loved him, even though she denied it. She loved him in a way he had never dreamed of, in a way he hoped someday he might be capable of returning. Before that day in Wausau when he had opened his mouth and spoiled everything, Jane had wanted to give him a love few people ever imagined. A one-and-only, for-a-lifetime love. She was an Everett, after all. He felt numb. I’ve been a blind fool.
Two hours had passed since Cash had left Jane’s door. Before he left, Jane had been confused by his change of expressions from angry to dumbfounded. She lowered Angie into her playpen in the den. A “Sesame Street” video already played cheerfully on the nearby television.
Jane wandered into the kitchen and opened the fridge for some fruit juice. The white florist box confronted her. Tom. I forgot all about the roses, she thought.
Lifting the box, she opened it. The blooms looked dry and neglected. She carried them to the sink and set about trimming the stems, but her thoughts couldn’t be pulled from Cash. He told her he loved her, but she couldn’t believe him. He might even think he really did, but how could she be sure? He’d ignored her for years. And, after his proposal that they marry only for convenience, she couldn’t overcome her doubts.
Cash wanted her as a convenient wife. But no matter how she denied it, she still wanted him as the love of her life. She was “cursed” with the concept of lifelong love and marriage she’d learned from her parents. Her stomach clenched and she longed to sit down and cry. Cash had love enough for Dena, Angie and Lucy. Why couldn’t he manage to fall in love with her? She pulled a glass vase from a cupboard and began arranging the roses in it
So it came down to this. She still loved Cash, but she wouldn’t, couldn’t settle for less than his heart. To marry him without his loving her would be a sham, an unbearable one. Perhaps with time the pain of this truth would ebb.
Somehow, some way she was going to have to push this out of her mind and memory. She must find a way to deal with her lingering feelings for Cash. Because of Angie she would be seeing Cash for the rest of her life.
She finished placing the last flower into the cut-glass vase. She fingered one velvet petal. I’m not being fair to Tom. Right now, I still care too much for Cash.
She walked to the wall phone and dialed Tom’s private line in his Chicago office. When he answered, Jane nearly choked on her misery, but she went on, anyway. “Tom, I need to be honest with you.” It was hard to say what honesty dictated but not to was unworthy of a true friend.
Angie’s first birthday dawned. Promptly at four p.m., Cash knocked on Phil and Marge’s door. It opened quickly. He could feel the hot sun on his back and the cool rush of air-conditioning on his face.
As Lucy let him in, she offered him a silvery, cone-shaped party hat. “Here’s your hat, Cash.” The living room was filled with Jane’s family, just like on the Fourth of July.
Over Lucy’s shoulder he spotted Tish, who was giving him a look that spoke of her excruciating embarrassment over the childish party hats. Attempting to soothe her discomfort, Cash winked at Tish.
Trying to be cheerful was costing him. Memories of his loss of Dena had haunted him all day and his frustration over Jane had upset his sleep. But with cheerful aplomb, which was in direct opposition to his true feelings, he put the cone on his head at a jaunty angle and snapped its elastic string under his chin.
Tish handed him a metal noisemaker for one hand and a party whistle that would unfold and squeak when he blew it.
“Feels like New Year’s Eve,” he murmured to Tish.
“Feels like we’re at the nuthouse,” Tish said to him from the side of her mouth.
“Cash,” Marge hailed him from where she sat near the fireplace. “Come here and watch this beautiful child.”
Angie stood on Phil’s lap. Phil held her securely under each arm. Angie was trying—with great excitement—to grab the hat from her grandfather’s head. Each time she reached up for it, Phil dodged her chubby hands. Instead of squealing with frustration, Angie squealed with enjoyment of the game. Finally Phil let her jerk the hat off his head. Angie crowed and immediately shoved it into her mouth. She was applauded and cheered by one and all—even Tish.
“Now that we’re all present,” Lucy said formally, “we may begin the activities on this most festive of occasions.” Again there was cheering and applause. “Blind Man’s Bluff will now commence.” Lucy quickly chose Henry as the blind man, tied a handkerchief around his eyes, spun him three times and let him loose in the large living room.
Henry came right at Cash, who jumped backward to avoid being tagged. Tish appeared at Cash’s arm and tugged at him to follow her. He let her lead the way down the hall.
“We can hide here,” Tish whispered as they arrived in the master bedroom.
“Why do we want to hide?” Cash whispered back.
“You can’t tell me that you want to play Blind Man’s Bluff. Kids don’t even play that anymore. When I was ten, I wanted to play it at my after-school birthday party, and none of the kids even knew what it was. Now that shows you how weird—”
“It isn’t weird. The Everetts are just...” He groped for the right words.
“The Everetts are just weird.” Tish folded her arms across her chest.
“The Everetts are blessed with Lucy—”
Tish snorted derisively and tossed her head like a headstrong filly.
“Your grandmother knows what has lasting value and how to stay young or play young.”
“I hate her. I just want to grow up and get away from her and my parents—”
He wanted to shake her then. Tish—who was blessed with a warm and unique family—wanted to run away from it. “I’d give anything to be an Everett.”
Tish shook her head at him, opened the door and waved him out. He left, unable to think of what to say to convince her that she was a princess of a royal family, not an unwilling visitor at the state mental institution.
At the end of the hall Henry grabbed him and made him the next blind man. In moments Cash stood with his arms extended for balance, disoriented, reeling from his three turns. He heard muffled footsteps and laughter. He waited till the sensation of being lost left him. Then he caught a whiff of Jane’s unmistakable cinnamon fragrance.
No one moved. They waited for him to begin blundering around to mask their movements. He stood still, letting Jane’s scent come to him till he felt he knew exactly where she was. Angie giggled.
Cash swung around to his left. His out-flung hand caught an arm. “Gotcha!” He tugged off his blindfold. Jane, Angie in her arms, was flushed and glaring at him.
“He got the birthday girl,” Lucy sang out. “He wins the medal for this game.”
Phil pinned a large paper star on Cash’s shirt and stole Angie from Jane’s arms, leaving the two of them staring at each other.
“You can let go of me now,” she ordered.
Cash dropped her arm as though it were electrified.
The two of them were swept into a rousing game of Musical Chairs. Angie clapped and squealed her pleasure. Tish’s absence was obvious, and Cash caught the glances that passed between Henry and Estelle. He could read their indecision over what to do about their daughter’s mutiny, but in the end they remained silent.
When the last game, Pin the Tail on the Donkey, was done, they all sat in a loose circle in the living room to watch Angie open her gifts.
“Jane, here, you hold Angie and, Cash, you sit next to her and help,” Marge suggested, pointing to the love seat.
“Why don’t you hold Angie, Mother?” Jane countered. “I want to take some pictures.” Giving the child to her mother, Jane went to the corner and lifted her phone.
Cash understood picture taking wasn’t keeping Jane from sitting next to him. Did she have to be so obvious about keeping her distance from him? He cleared his throat. “That’s a great idea. I’d rather watch, anyway.” He hoped he had said it with just the right agreeable, unruffled tone.
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br /> So Angie sat on Marge’s lap while Phil “helped” his granddaughter open her gifts: a rag baby doll from Lucy, a musical teddy bear from the proud grandparents, a pale lavender porcelain angel with a gilded number “1” on her skirt from Uncle Henry and Aunt Estelle, a bright red ball from Tish, who had reappeared, and a tiger hand puppet from Jane. Everything was opened, even some uninteresting clothes which Angie pitched out of the boxes in her search for more toys.
While Angie listened to the musical bear, Cash disappeared and returned. Jane saw him first, coming down the hall. Bent over, he pushed a red tricycle ahead of him.
“Angie,” Marge cooed, “look what Uncle Cash has for you.”
The little girl pushed herself off her grandmother’s lap. Momentarily she stood, steadying herself by touching Marge’s knees.
“Angie,” Cash coaxed, pushing the shiny trike forward.
She chortled and launched herself toward Cash and the trike.
“She’s walking!” Tish exclaimed.
“Jane, get her picture!” Lucy shouted as she leaped up from the sofa.
Jane in throes of several conflicting emotions: joy, resentment, awe and guilt, rapidly snapped the camera’s button.
Cash lurched forward, catching Angie just as her uneven steps faltered. He spun her around, laughing. “She walked! She walked! To me!”
Jane continued snapping pictures to mask her tangled emotions. Was she really so petty she would resent Angie taking her first steps toward Cash? No, that wasn’t it. But why couldn’t she stop feeling like an overwound clock, so tight and tense?
Phil stood up. “I’m in the mood for cake.” He extended his arms to Angie. “Ice cream, Angie?” he invited. She laughed and smiled in agreement, but remained in her uncle’s arms.
The party returned to the festively decorated table. The ritual of lighting and blowing out the birthday candles—one for Angie’s first year and one for luck—was observed in the traditional way. Jane kept herself busy, taking pictures, serving cake and scooping ice cream. Finally they were all seated around the table, even Jane.
“Marge, that was the best coconut layer cake you have ever made.” Phil patted his stomach contentedly.
“Thank you, darling.” Marge leaned over and kissed his cheek.
“Angie certainly seems to have enjoyed herself,” Estelle pointed out. Everyone looked at the little girl and chuckled. In Everett family tradition, the one-year-old had been allowed to eat her cake and ice cream all by herself. Consequently white frosting, ice cream and flakes of coconut liberally decorated Angie’s bib, face, hands and hair.
Lucy stood up and folded her hands in front of her. All eyes turned to her. “This has been a special day. And there is one more presentation.”
She cleared her throat. “Cash, today is a day of joy, the celebration of the first year of life for our dear Angie. I wanted to give you something to treasure as a remembrance of this day.”
Lucy bent down, opened the doors of the pecan sideboard behind her and drew out the small oval miniature of Angie that she had painted. She gave it to Cash. “Jane helped me with the posing, otherwise I couldn’t have done it.”
* * *
Cash could not take his eyes off the small portrait of Angie’s bright eyes and chubby smile. Tears knotted in his throat. He couldn’t speak, so he took Lucy’s hand and squeezed it.
Marge stood up. “We also have something for you, Cash. And you, too, Jane. We know that it will cause you both some pain, but Phil and I decided that we should make some gesture that showed our love for Dena even though she has been taken from us.”
Phil rose and returned carrying two antique brass picture frames. “Marge and I were reminiscing over old photographs this summer and we came across this picture which we thought captured Dena and Jane in their childhood exactly as we remember them, so we had two enlargements made and enhanced for you.” He handed one frame to Cash and one to Jane.
* * *
Jane took hers. She trembled when she saw it. The scene was one which brought back a deluge of memories. They were about eleven years old. She and Dena were here fishing on Lucy’s pier. They had their heads together over a fish on the end of a fishing line. The undersized fish must have swallowed the hook because the two of them were concentrating on unhooking the stubborn fish to throw it back in.
Dena’s dark head and Jane’s own carrot top were so close they were nearly touching. The sunny lake behind them appeared as mere flares of light, which focused all attention on the faces of the two girls. From her memory, she could hear Dena’s childish voice and the loudly lapping waves behind them caused by boat wakes.
Jane began to cry. Her mother pressed a hand on Jane’s shoulder in sympathy. “Thank you, Mother, Father. I’ll treasure it always.”
“Same here.” Cash’s voice was thick with emotion. “Thank you. Thank you all.”
Jane saw his tears and regretted her previous anger toward him. She had a loving family. He had only Angie. She had begrudged sharing Angie with him. God, forgive me. She took a deep breath. Help me, Lord. Regardless of her own broken heart and foolish dreams about Cash, tomorrow morning when he came to take Angie for the day, she would let the baby go with him with good grace.
Chapter 14
A riot of wind swirled around Cash as he stepped from his Jeep late the next morning. Overhead, dark clouds in shades of gray from dove to slate tumbled over and around each other as they rolled on in a swiftly changing skyline. Cash had hoped for sunshine today, his first solo visit with Angie. He had planned to spend the day playing with Angie in the sand and shallows of the lake beyond his parents’ cottage. But the high wind and racing, rippling clouds above were clear harbingers of uncertain weather.
Today he would finally achieve his goal of having Angie to himself—if just for a while. But within the past weeks, his ultimate aim had altered completely. Now what he truly desired was several hours alone with Jane, so he could persuade her—somehow—that he loved her. Then he would marry her and have both Jane and Angie with him for the rest of his life.
But today would not be the day. The way to persuade Jane that he loved her still eluded him. He ached to declare the sincerity of his love for her. But as matters stood, it would only push her farther from him. Last night, after a call to Lucy for help, Cash had spent most of the evening reading a new Bible and praying for insight.
He had made a mess of everything. Building high-rise condominiums and subdivisions of beautiful homes wasn’t a challenge to him. But why had he never learned how to build a relationship with a woman? Would he ever find the way to win Jane’s heart? Saying one more silent prayer, he ran a hand through his hair.
As his foot touched the bottom of her front steps, Jane popped out her door with Angie holding her hand. “Good morning, Cash. Angie’s all ready.”
Stunned by her cheery tone, he froze, one foot on the walk, one foot on the step. He stared up at her.
Angie squealed when she reached her uncle. Jane released the little hand—such a small parting, such a wrenching at her heart. Cash lifted Angie into his arms.
* * *
Jane smiled brightly. Today she would set the tone for these weekly visitations. She would make Dena proud of her and do unto Cash as she would have him do unto her. Hand in hand, Jane and Angie walked down the steps.
“Here’s her bag.” Jane held out the large denim bag. “It has everything you need. When should I expect you two back?”
“Ah...is six or seven all right?” he stammered.
“That’s fine. If I’m not home, just let yourself in.”
“Okay. Uh, fine.”
“See you later.” Jane waved cheerily, turned and walked around the side of her house to where her SUV was parked.
Her legs trembled as she heard the distinctive sound of Cash’s Jeep driving away. By the time she got behind the steering wheel, gloom descended on her, a tremendous weight bearing down on her breast. She forced herself to inhale deeply.
/> “I am not losing Angie,” she told herself sternly. “I have lost Dena, but Angie will be home tonight in her crib.” Saying the words out loud helped, even though the oppressive feeling of loss hung around her neck like a thick-linked steel chain.
She started her SUV and headed off to a nearby lake cottage where her seamstress lived. She needed to drop off some customers’ skirts and jackets for alteration. It was the first errand of the day she had planned, a day full of work, a busy day, too hectic to allow herself time to think. By the time she closed up shop at six tonight, she would only have enough energy to stagger home and put both Angie and herself to bed.
After a half hour of conversation with her seamstress, Jane rose from the table and started distancing herself from the talkative woman. Jane finally made it out onto the back step.
Outside, the wind snatched and tossed their voices away from them. Startled, both women looked skyward. Overhead, charcoal clouds blanketed the sky. Below the women, at the lakeshore, waves surged against the sandy bank and over the end of the pier.
“This really looks bad,” the seamstress shouted, folding her arms in front of her.
“Mel is all alone at the store. Got to go!” Jane hurried to her vehicle. Rain burst over her. Raindrops hit the nearby lake with such force they splashed up huge plops. She leaped into her SUV. Taking a deep breath, she swept her dripping hair back from her face and started the ignition.
Down the highway she sped, with great waves of water shooting up from behind her wheels. Sheets of rain rolled down her windshield; the wipers batting at them furiously. Storm darkness smothered the daylight. Her impatience to reach Mel and her anxiety over not knowing where Angie and Cash were swelled inside her with each mile.
