Counting Stars (3 page)

“You
promise?
You swear that after one lunch, you’ll leave me alone forever?”

“Ouch. But if that’s what you want . . .”

She looked at him skeptically. “And I won’t see you until then? Not even once?”

“I’ll disappear completely.”

“All right,” Jane said, feeling her hand pumped up and down, then finally released. “Bye,” she called, grabbing her mug and the paper as she headed for the door.

* * *

Jay picked up his guitar and walked the opposite direction.
Best to start right away,
he thought, keeping his promise to disappear. He climbed the stairs to the top deck and walked to the back of the ferry. A quick look around told him that he was alone—most everyone else was preparing to dock. Lucky for him, he’d sold his car last week.

He set his guitar case down and knelt next to it, undoing the clips. Reaching inside, he ran his fingers down the inside of the case lid until he came to a slight swell in the fabric. His fingers located a transparent thread, and he pulled until the velvet puckered, then fell away. A clear plastic bag dropped into his hand. Jay closed his fingers around it, then shut the case and stood.

A slow stroll along the deck convinced him he was still alone. Standing beside the rail, he opened his hand and stared at the tiny pouch in his palm. The white granules inside shimmered in the sunlight, and Jay could already feel their texture on his tongue and taste their bitter tang.

His private heaven—and hell.

He’d saved this bag for a year and a half—hadn’t even known he had it until a few months after rehab. And then one day there it was, his manna, stuffed in the toe of a pair of shoes he hadn’t worn in years. He’d told himself that he would save it. It would be his reward, his comfort to fall back on if things didn’t work out. Countless times he’d taken the bag out, looked at it, rubbed it between his palms. Once he’d even brought the plastic to his face, pressing it against his nostrils. But he had never opened it. He kept promises now—especially those he made to himself.

So here he was this morning, having finally reached the designated day of his reward. And here was his comfort waiting for him because things hadn’t worked out. There would be no birthday lunch with Jane. But he deserved a present, didn’t he? No one else would be giving him one. But then, come to think of it, he couldn’t recall a birthday where he had received any gifts.

Nothing had changed, and it wouldn’t do to feel sorry for himself now. He’d learned that was the first step on the path to self-destruction.

Jay rubbed the baggie between his fingers one last time and then, with a flick of his wrist, watched as it sailed out into the bay. Withdrawing his wallet from his back pocket, he thumbed through it quickly, searching for the paper amid the bills.

It was real. He stared at it—this ticketless travel voucher that was about to drastically alter the course of his life. The confirmation number stood out in bold, along with the flight number and times:

American Airlines 1263

Departure: SEA 1:05 p.m.

Arrival: BOS 9:23 p.m.

One way.

Jay closed his wallet and turned, facing Seattle in the glory of the morning sun.

Because of Jane, another day was his to live. And if that was all the reward he ever got, it was enough.

Chapter Two

The Emerald Realty downtown office was quiet when, at exactly 12:00, Tara Mollagen opened her purse and took out a compact and lipstick. Squinting in the small mirror, she applied a fresh coat of
Pink Pout
and practiced doing just that as she slid her feet into silver pumps beneath her desk.

Shoes in place, she left her chair and strode purposefully down the row of cubicles. Stopping at Jane’s nook, she poked her head inside.

“You up for lunch today?”

“Can’t,” Jane said without taking her eyes off the computer screen. She rolled the mouse, moving the cursor to the print icon. “I’ve got an appointment with the Sweviecs.”

“You
still
haven’t found those poor people a house?” Tara drummed her polished nails on top of the divider.

Jane rolled her eyes. “The only thing poor about them is their attitude. And I’ve found them
thirty-seven
houses.”

“Ah,” Tara said, understanding. “Shown them everything between here and Canada, have you?”

Jane nodded. “And then some.”

“Well perhaps, as Zack would say, it’s ‘time to cut bait.’”

Jane spun around in her chair. “And just how is Zack these days?” She looked Tara straight in the eye. “He cut your bait yet?”

“Nooo,” Tara said slowly. “We had a fight last night, but—”

“About?” Jane crossed her arms. “Spill it.”

“My cat. He doesn’t like cats, and when I moved in I brought Taffy. Zack said it’d be okay, but now it’s not.” Tara sniffed loudly.

“Come here,” Jane said, opening her arms as she stood. She gave Tara a hug, then reached behind her to retrieve the box of tissues from the desk.

“Sorry,” Tara mumbled, blowing her nose. “I always blubber.”

“It’s good to cry,” Jane assured her, making a mental note to buy more tissue. She’d just given her fourth and last box to Tara. Poor soul. This boyfriend had her up to a box a week. “Talk about cutting bait . . .”

“I know, I know. I’ll have to get rid of the cat.”

“Tara!” Jane said sharply. “Don’t you dare. Just think about this. First he threw out your plants. Then he talked you out of your art class, and now he wants to get rid of your pet. Next thing you know, he’ll want to put your parents in an old folks home.”

“Do you really think so?” Tara asked anxiously. Fresh tears appeared in her eyes before she’d pulled another tissue out. “Oh Jane.”

Jane looked at her watch. She had twenty-five minutes before she was due to meet the Sweviecs. She only had three new properties to show them, but . . . Tara needed her. “All right. I’ve got a few minutes to spare.”

Tara’s face brightened. “Great. That’s enough time to forget our sorrows in one of those fabulous orange rolls at the bakery.”

“I really shouldn’t,” Jane said, grabbing her purse. “My breakfast was already three days worth of Weight Watchers points.”

“So,” Tara said, leading the way. “Today’s your First Friday thing, isn’t it?”

* * *

“You know you can stay at my place.” Jane repeated the offer she had made many times before when trying to convince Tara that living with her boyfriend wasn’t a good idea.

“Thanks, but no.” Tara licked the frosting from her fingers, then tried changing the subject. “So why don’t you just dump the Sweviecs?”

“Because if I can hang in there and make a sale, the commission will cover my mortgage for months.” Jane glanced at her watch again.

“Is it worth it?”

Jane chewed her roll and considered. A smile crossed her face as she thought of the new white picket fence surrounding her yard. It was definitely worth it. She looked at Tara. “Is
Zack
worth it?”

“It’s better than being alone.”

“Hmm.” Jane slid off her stool and headed for the door. “That’s a matter of opinion.”

Tara followed her. “That’s not fair. I mean—you’ve never taken the relationship plunge, so how would you know whether it’s better or not?”

Jane rolled her eyes. “I know.”

“You don’t,” Tara insisted. “How could you? You won’t even get your feet wet. I bet you haven’t been on a date in weeks.”

Months,
Jane amended silently as she walked toward the office, trying to pretend Tara’s remark hadn’t stung.

“If I don’t take the plunge, it’s because the water’s shallow.” She thought of Tara’s previous boyfriend, Stan, who’d been about as intellectually deep as her toilet bowl. “And I refuse to stick my feet—or even my little toe—in water that’s murky.” She looked sideways at Tara. “And I’m telling you, Zack is murky.
Manipulative
and murky.”

Tara’s shoulders slumped, and she stopped as they reached the office door. “I know. I’m not so blind I don’t see it too. But it’s just that sometimes you’ve got to settle a bit, and I
swear,
even settling is better than being alone.”

Jane stared at her, unconvinced.

“Think of it this way,” Tara said. “This world’s full of pollution. You can’t escape it anywhere. There are no pristine, sparkling lakes left—or if there are they’re sure hidden well, and getting to them involves far more hiking than I’m ready to do. Anyway—” She waved her hand in the air. “Here in the city, you gotta settle for the best water you can get. And once you’re used to the taste, it really isn’t too bad.”

Jane pushed open the door and held it while Tara, her shoulders square again, walked inside.
Is she right?
Jane wondered and thought again of her morning encounter with Jay. Should she have gotten her feet wet? What would one lunch date have hurt? Jay had a past, and he certainly wasn’t LDS, but what had years of singles dances and activities yielded her?

Nothing.

It was too late for that lunch date now, though it wasn’t too late to do something else. A determined look in her eyes, Jane walked through the door and headed toward her cubicle. The want ads were calling her.
Ever answer one?
Jay had asked.
Ever go out with one of those poor saps?
They couldn’t all be poor saps. Somewhere out there, there had to be a normal, decent guy with no defects—other than that he was suffering from the same malady she was.

An acute case of loneliness.

Chapter Three

Caroline surveyed the contents of the freezer.
What to fix for dinner?
Nothing sounded good—or worth the effort of cooking, anyway. It was Friday, and she needed to get out of the house. She closed the freezer as a plan formed. She’d arrange a sitter, feed the kids macaroni and cheese, then she and Ryan could grab a burger and maybe catch a movie. It would be heaven to sit in a dark theater together, watching something that wasn’t animated, and without the threat of spilled soda or the interruption of having to take a child to the bathroom. She walked to the sink and stared out the kitchen window, thinking dreamily of the possibility.

It was almost five o’clock. She would have to find a babysitter fast.

She picked up the phone, hitting 2 on the speed dial for her parents. Her mom would understand her sudden need for escape. But the phone rang and rang until finally, discouraged, Caroline set the receiver down. If only her parents would quit living in the dark ages and get an answering machine or a cell phone.

She glanced at the fridge calendar. It was September fifth, the first Friday of the month—Jane’s romance night. Well, maybe if she was just reading a book she could read it over here. Caroline picked up the cordless again, this time hitting 1 on the speed dial. She smiled when Jane picked up after the second ring.

“So who’s your hot date for tonight?” Caroline asked as she dug through the laundry for a pair of socks. “Or should I ask which romance author has a new book out this week?”

“No date and no book,” Jane said. “And hi to you too, sis.”

Caroline heard the familiar sound of chocolate chips being dumped into a mixer.

“No guy real
or
imaginary?” she asked, stumped both by the lack of socks in the pile of clean laundry and her sister’s answer.

“Actually, I read two romance novels already this week,” Jane admitted.

“You
cheated,
” Caroline said. “Tsk. Tsk. You know that’s breaking your commitment with Hopeless Romantics Anonymous.”

“Yeah, well it was a rough couple of days.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Caroline muttered, holding up a pair of Jessica’s socks. “So what
are
you doing, then?”

“Not babysitting, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Jane said. “I’ve got a batch of double chocolate chip cookies going in the oven and a pint of Häagen Dazs Macadamia Nut Brittle in the freezer.”

Strike two.
“And the man?” Caroline asked, squeezing her foot into her daughter’s sock.

“I’m thinking it’s a Darcy night.”

“Must’ve been some week if you’re holing up with
Pride and Prejudice
again.”

Jane laughed. “You know me so well.”

Caroline frowned. “I thought Christopher dropped one of those tapes in the bathtub last summer.”

“Yeah,” Jane groaned. “He dropped the video in the tub, my brush in the toilet, and an expensive library book in the sink. That kid has some serious water issues.” She sighed. “But I bought the DVD set today, the A&E edition.”

Caroline gave up on the sock. “What time you starting?” Getting out without Ryan wouldn’t be as much fun, but chocolate chip cookies and Jane Austen was a pretty good offer too.

“I’m already on the second hour. You’re not thinking of coming, are you?”

“Absolutely,” Caroline said, her mind suddenly made up.

“You’d have to spend the night,” Jane said. “The last ferry—”

“And I’d have to bring Andrew and put him to bed at your place.”

“Great.” Jane said, meaning it. “I’d love to see my favorite nephew, and this house could do with some testosterone.” She tried to laugh. “Can you leave Ryan by himself with the rest of the kids?” she mumbled through a mouthful of cookie dough.

“He’ll be fine,” Caroline assured her. “Don’t watch any more until I get there, okay?”

“All right, but bring your own ice cream.”

* * *

“This is the best part. Watch how he looks at her when they dance.”

“You’ve pointed out half a dozen
best parts
already. Quit narrating the movie,” Caroline complained.

Jane ignored her. “You can see it in Darcy’s eyes. He’s lost in her,
hungering
for her.” She sighed. “I wish someone would look at me like that.”

“You don’t,” Caroline said. “Trust me.”

“Yes. I do,” Jane insisted. She stabbed her spoon into the ice cream again as she stared at the television.

Caroline reached for another cookie, then kicked her slippered feet up on the old trunk that served as Jane’s coffee table. “That’s the only way anyone ever looks at me—with hunger in their eyes. At three in the morning it’s Andrew howling for a bottle. Then at six thirty it’s ‘what’s for breakfast, Mom, and did I get a Twinkie in my lunch box?’ When they walk in the door after school it’s ‘I’m st-aaar-ving Mom. Got any cookies?’ Even the dog only looks at me when he wants to eat.”

Jane elbowed Caroline. “You know what I mean.”

“I know
exactly
what you mean, and let me tell you, by the time Ryan looks at me with that kind of hunger, it’s ten thirty at night, and I just want to slug him.”

Jane rolled her eyes. “You’re real romantic.”

“Just wait. Someday you’ll be there, and I’ll remind you.”

Jane turned to her. “Will I be there? I mean, honestly? One more month and I’ll be thirty. I haven’t had a date in—in I don’t know how long, and I haven’t got any prospects for one either. So how am I ever going to be
there
—with a husband and a house full of kids?” She looked back at the movie just in time to see Elizabeth walk away. “Wake up. He loves you.” Irritated, Jane grabbed the remote and snapped the television off. She put the lid back on her ice cream and slammed it onto the table.

“I’m sorry, Jane. I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” Jane muttered. “It’s okay.” She leaned her head back against the couch and closed her eyes.

“Was this part of your rough week?” Caroline asked.

“No—yes. I don’t know.” Jane sighed, then opened her eyes and turned to Caroline. “I ran into Jay Kendrich on the ferry this morning.”

Caroline leaned closer. “Jay? As in restraining-order Jay?”

“Yep.” Jane nodded. “Apparently after a few years those things aren’t good anymore.”

“Well, are you going to get another one?”

“No. I don’t think I’ll have to. Jay was actually pretty—agreeable.”

“
Agreeable?
” Caroline asked, bewildered. “Jane, this is the guy who made you so nuts that you dropped out of life for a year. This is the guy who was one beat away from a stalker.”

“I know. I know.” Jane picked at a fuzz on the arm of the sofa. “He seemed different today. People can change.”

“Maybe.” Caroline bit her lip. “You’re not going to see him again are you? Please tell me you didn’t agree to a date or anything.”

Jane rolled her eyes. “I’m not stupid. I was actually quite curt with him.”

“Good,” Caroline said, relief in her voice. “You had me worried.”

“I promised to meet him on the ferry one year from today. And if I’m still unattached, then he can take me out to lunch.”

“So you did agree to a date!” Caroline exclaimed.

Jane frowned at her. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I didn’t mean it that way.” Caroline touched Jane’s arm. “It’s just that the guy is trouble. You can do better than that.”

“Can I?” Jane looked at her.” I don’t see how, Caroline. I’m getting old. It’s getting real lonely.”

“Come here,” Caroline put her arm around Jane and pulled her against her shoulder.

Jane sighed as she leaned into her sister. “I know Jay was messed up, but if he’s not now—if there is even a chance . . .” Her voice trailed off.

“I don’t think—” Caroline began.

Jane continued. “Whenever we were in the same room together, there was this feeling, we were just drawn to each other. I tried to avoid it. I gave all the other patients in my class more attention than him, but it was like he had some kind of magnetic pull I couldn’t resist. And that one time he kissed me—” She closed her eyes, remembering the bittersweet moment when Jay had stopped her in the hall, taken her face in his hands, and kissed her as she’d never been kissed before. There was simply no way to describe it. Fireworks was an understatement. It was
Gone with the Wind, Casablanca,
and
Ever After
all rolled into one. It left her breathless, head spinning, heart pounding. It became the moment she knew the stuff written in romance novels could be true.

Jane opened her eyes and looked up at Caroline. “I’d do it again. It was stupid to send him away today.”

Caroline sat up straight, faced Jane, and gripped her shoulders. “Listen to me. All that was between you and Jay was
chemistry.
And while I’ll be the first to admit that physical attraction
is
very nice, I also know there
has
to be more. There has to be friendship and faith and love—
life-altering love,
Jane. That’s what you’re holding out for.”

“What Jay and I had was life altering.” Jane smiled sadly. “I lost my internship and couldn’t graduate, remember?”

“Oh Jane.” Caroline pulled her close again. “You are going to meet the right guy. And he’s going to be worth every moment, every hour, every day that you had to wait for him. And all your sisters will be insanely jealous because this guy is so great. And then we’re all going to clobber him for waiting so long to find you.”

Jane gave a halfhearted attempt at laughter. “When is all this going to happen?”

“That, I don’t know,” Caroline admitted.

“And how will I meet this guy? Where will I find him?”

“I don’t know specifics, but I am serious. It’s a gut feeling I have. Mother’s instinct.” Caroline brought her palm to her chest.

“You’re not my mother.”

“Might as well have been for as often as I got stuck watching you.”

“All right then.” Jane sat up and reached for her portfolio next to the couch. “Tell me your mother’s instinct on this.” She held out the newspaper with the circled personal.

“A single’s ad?” Caroline took it, reading quickly.

Seeking kind, loving woman to be the mother of my children.

Call 555-3288

She raised an eyebrow. “Different and definitely to the point.”

Jane nodded. “I’m thinking of answering it.”

“Bad idea. Probably some psychopath.”

Jane shrugged. “Could be. If I get a date, I figure I’ll have you and the kids tail me for safety.”

It was Caroline’s turn to laugh. “That’d be enough to change anyone’s mind about being a father. But I’m serious, Jane. That ad is scary.”

“Not compared to all the others.” Jane took the paper from Caroline and unfolded it. “Look at these—bust size, hair color, age requirements. They’re all terrible. But
this
guy just wants someone kind and loving. He wants what I want . . . a family.”

“An
eternal
family?” Caroline looked skeptical. “Come on, Jane. Odds are highly unlikely this guy is LDS.”

“I know,” Jane admitted. “But I’m not having any luck with guys that are in the Church. And I’m tired of being alone.”

Caroline looked at her sadly. “So . . . what? You’ve just decided that’s it. You’re going to lower your expectations that much?”

“I haven’t lowered anything,” Jane insisted. “It’s just this one ad. I can’t explain—I’m just drawn to it.”

“This whole meet-a-complete-stranger business makes me very nervous.” Caroline sighed. “You’d have to meet in a public place in the middle of the day, and I’d want to be there—”

Jane shook her head.

“Right outside then,” Caroline reluctantly conceded. “Mom will kill me when she hears about this. Are you sure you want to—?” Caroline broke off as Jane turned to her, conviction in her eyes.

“I am.” Jane took a deep breath. “Maybe it’s
my
mother’s intuition starting to kick in.”