Counting Stars (30 page)

Chapter Fifty-Four

Jane sat in bed next to a half-full box of Kleenex and a wad of moist, used tissues—bags of fun-size candy bars on either side of her. She’d cried enough tonight to make Tara look like a dry well.

Savagely, she unwrapped another Three Musketeers bar and shoved it in her mouth at the same time she bit into a Milky Way. She’d started buying bags of those too, for when Pete was around. Which had been every day—until recently. Since their night on the beach nearly two weeks ago, an unspoken pact had been made between them. The passionate kissing had ceased, replaced by chaste kisses and infrequent hand-holding. There were no more dates without the twins, and Pete left immediately after Mark and Madison were in bed each night. Jane knew it was good they were keeping to such boundaries, and yet . . . She hadn’t wanted it to be the beginning of the end.

After Pete’s silence at Mark’s appointment yesterday, and missing him last night, she’d held onto the hope that their Saturday would be good. But his blinds had remained closed all morning, and when Jane took the twins for a walk around the block, his car was gone. He’d finally called at five to tell her he wouldn’t be over that night or the next day.

Jane tore the wrapper from another candy bar, musing that if she couldn’t have the man, at least she could have his chocolate. She sniffed loudly, then sneezed. Reaching for the remote, she turned up the volume and tried to concentrate on the movie she’d chosen to torture herself with—her Clean Cinema version of
An Officer and a Gentleman.
She was just about to the part where Richard Gere, dressed in full uniform, came into the factory and swept Debra Winger off her feet—literally. It was a scene that always made her heart soar. Today it just made her heart
sore.

Jane blew her nose again. She wanted to be swept off her feet. Actually, she had been. The only problem was, she’d been dropped on the floor at the end—and she was pretty certain she knew why. At the beach, Peter had told her he was grateful for her religion, but even as he’d spoken the words, she’d sensed his hesitation. He began pulling away from her that night, and instead of feeling devastated, Jane knew she should be grateful. She’d been praying for the strength to do the right thing, and it seemed Heavenly Father was helping her out by having Peter end their relationship. It looked like she wouldn’t be faced with the agonizing decision of marrying outside the Church after all.

Fresh tears squeezed from her eyes, and Jane fell over on the bed, landing on the crumpled tissue and wrappers. Would it have been so terrible if she’d married him? She loved him. He’d almost said he loved her. Together, as a real family, they would be better parents for Mark and Madison.
Is that so wrong, Heavenly Father? I love him so much. And he
is
a good man.

“He is,” she said. “I will,” she whispered, knowing that’s what she’d say if Peter asked her to marry him at this very moment. But something inside told her he wasn’t going to ask.

She reached for her pillow and curled herself around it. She felt hopeless. Not all the chocolate in the world could fix her broken heart.

Chapter Fifty-Five

Jane glanced again at the paper on the seat beside her. The pink parchment was still there, date, time, and location emblazoned across the middle. She hadn’t imagined the whole thing—which was very good, considering she’d spent the last three days exfoliating her face, doing hours of Tae Bo, and eating nothing but grapefruit. It took a lot of effort to make up for Saturday night’s consumption of nearly two entire bags of fun-size chocolate bars.

It had been a weird week since then. Peter came over Monday, but he hadn’t stayed long, hardly speaking to her, not even offering an apology or explanation for being out of the picture all weekend. She’d fed him dinner, but their meal was awkward, so she decided she wasn’t going to bother cooking anymore. If he was so disenchanted with her, then he could fix his own meals.

Tuesday morning a bouquet of mixed roses was delivered to her door. The accompanying note from Peter apologized for his strange and distant behavior. He said he needed a couple of days to take care of some things and asked her to meet him Wednesday night at the Emerald Bay address on the card.

So here she was.

But where was Peter? It was five minutes after six, and she saw no sign of him. Deciding she might as well get out and look around, Jane stepped from the Jeep, careful to make sure her black skirt cleared the door. Peter had invited her on a bay cruise—that much she was sure of after looking up the address on the Internet. She’d worn her best skirt and borrowed a blouse and a strand of pearls from Karen for the occasion. But what the occasion was, she still didn’t know. Why hadn’t Peter just picked her up at the house? And what about the roses? She knew yellow stood for friendship and red for love, but what were yellow, red, white, and pink all mixed together supposed to mean?

She felt utterly confused.

Jane wandered across the nearly empty parking lot to the ramp, toward an elderly gentleman standing at the base.

“Miss Warner?” He smiled at her, giving a slight bow.

“Y-yes,” Jane said. “Is there a message for me? It seems my date isn’t here and—”

“No message,” the man said. “Allow me.” He held his elbow out, inviting her to take his arm.

Feeling foolish and more than a little leery, Jane placed her hand lightly on his sleeve. “Is Peter here, then?”

The man winked at her. “Not yet, but soon.” He began walking up the ramp. Jane held back. For a second she wondered if it was all some wild plot—maybe Peter was planning for her to
accidentally
fall into the bay—leaving him with full custody of the twins. She supposed, given his recent weird behavior, that anything was possible.

The man turned back to her. “I assure you, Mr. Bryant is on his way.”

Jane hesitated another second, then finally pushed her misgivings aside. She’d told Peter she trusted him, and she meant it. Other than acting strange the past few days, he’d never been anything but a perfect gentleman with her. Forcing a smile to her lips, Jane took the man’s arm and proceeded to board the boat.

He led her through the main cabin—empty now, though Jane could see that it could easily accommodate at least fifty people. Linen-covered tables for two lined the windows on either side. The room smelled of new paint and carpet. She followed the man across a plastic walkway and up a set of winding stairs, then found herself in a smaller room, this one set with only one table at the far end of the cabin.

He led her there, held out one of the two chairs, and beckoned for her to sit. Jane slid into her seat, then looked up.

“We’ll be under way shortly,” he said. “May I offer you some wine to begin with tonight?”

“No, thank you.” She imagined the headline.
Intoxicated mother falls to her death.
“A bottled water would be great.”

The man nodded and left the cabin, leaving Jane alone in the quiet. She looked around the room. Plush velvet couches, covered in plastic, lined the walls. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, and laying on a table in the middle of the room was a telescope. She let out a breath of relief. A
telescope
—of course. The stars would be much brighter out on the water, away from the lights of the city. Remembering the times they’d counted stars, she felt herself begin to relax.

Pushing back her chair, Jane rose and walked around the room, checking out the view from each bank of windows. She took her phone from her purse and called Caroline.

“Has he asked you yet?” Caroline sounded breathless, like she’d just run up the stairs.

“No,” Jane whispered, though she was still alone. “I really don’t think that’s what this is about.”

“But you
are
on a boat?” Caroline asked. “Is it nice?”

“Very,” Jane assured her, looking around. “I’m all alone right now, though. This old guy escorted me on board, and no one else is here. It’s a little creepy. Call me in, say, twenty minutes, okay?”

“I will. I’ve got to run to the store. The guys are here again tonight, and they need snacks.” Caroline sighed into the phone. “Apparently, there’s some really important baseball game on ESPN. I wish Karen would just give in and get their stupid satellite fixed. I’m sick to death of sports.”

Jane laughed. “You’re getting soft. Used to be, you wouldn’t put up with stuff like this.”

“The things we do for the men we love,” Caroline said.

Thinking of all she’d been through the past week, Jane silently agreed. “Talk to you later, then.” She disconnected the call and put the phone back into her purse just as footsteps sounded on the stairs. She turned to find Peter dressed in a suit and tie, standing across the room. He came toward her, an unreadable expression on his face. A few feet away, he stopped. Reaching into his coat pocket, he pulled out a bottled water.

“Tim said you asked for this.” Pete handed the bottle to her. “Hopefully it’s not to clobber me with, though I’m sure I deserve it after the last few days.”

“I wasn’t thinking of anything that violent.” Jane unscrewed the cap. “Though I imagine it would be immensely satisfying to pour the entire thing over your head.” She took a drink.

Pete leaned forward. “Be my guest, if it will make you feel better.”

“No thanks. Your suit looks new. I wouldn’t want to ruin it.”

He straightened. “In that case, let me start by saying I’m sorry.” His eyes caught Jane’s.

She quickly broke their gaze. “Apology accepted—maybe.” Her tone was intentionally flippant. Turning away she said, “It depends on the menu.”

Peter put his hand on the small of her back and guided her to the table. He held her chair as she sat down. “Chicken cordon bleu, a fresh vegetable medley, sourdough rolls, and spinach salad with feta cheese and raspberry vinaigrette dressing. And for dessert, New York cheesecake topped with a rich caramel sauce.”

“Mmm,” Jane said, giving him a hint of a smile. “That could weigh in your favor.”

Pete slid into the chair across from her. “Would you care to start with some wine?” He reached for a bottle chilling in a stand to the side of their table.

“No, thank you.” Remembering her resolve to share more of her beliefs with him, Jane added, “Mormons don’t drink any alcoholic beverages. We believe they aren’t good for our bodies.”

Pete put the bottle back. “Wisdom words, right? Your mom told me about that. I can’t believe I forgot. Sorry.”

“The Word of Wisdom. It’s all right,” Jane quickly assured him. “My water is great, but go ahead if you want some wine.”

He shook his head. “Actually, I don’t drink anymore.”

Her eyebrows rose. “How come?”

Pete decided he might as well tell her. She should know what she was getting—good, bad,
and
ugly.

“The last time—a few years ago—I got drunk and tried to stop a wedding.”

“Whose?” Her eyes were wide.

“Paul’s.”

Jane’s mouth opened in an O.

“I decided my penance should include not drinking for a very long time.” He shrugged. “I really haven’t missed it.”

“But you’ve missed your brother,” she surmised.

“Yes.” Pete followed her gaze out to the bay.

“You didn’t approve of the bride?” she asked.

Pete cleared his throat. “Something like that.” He knew he should tell her all of it, but not tonight. He wanted this evening to be all about Jane. The ghosts of the past would keep until another time.

They sat quietly, the silence neither uncomfortable nor familiar. They’d backtracked, Pete realized, and he had a lot of work to do tonight to regain Jane’s trust and favor. Somehow, he had to succeed. After taking the weekend to think things through—as Richard had suggested—Pete knew what he needed to do—what he
wanted
to do, he admitted to himself. He hoped it was what Jane wanted too. At one time, he would have bet on it, but right now, he wasn’t so certain.

“Why are we the only ones here?” she asked suddenly, breaking the silence. “Is this a new boat?”

“Not new. Remodeled.” Pete glanced around the cabin, seeing the covered furniture and carpet for the first time. In his anxiety over tonight, he hadn’t noticed the boat’s details. “One of my clients owns this boat and several others in the fleet that run dinner cruises on the bay. This one starts up a regular schedule again this weekend.”

“It’s very nice,” Jane murmured. “You went to a lot of work.” She looked at him for a second before glancing away.

“I would have liked to do more. You’re worth this and so much more, Jane.” Pete reached into his coat pocket, withdrew an envelope, and set it in front of her. “I wish there was time to show you.”

Jane picked up the envelope and opened it. Pete watched as she withdrew the letter and began reading. He saw the moment her fingers stilled on the paper and her breath caught. She looked up at him, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“I should have known it was something bad.”

He reached across the table and used his thumb to wipe the first drop from her cheek. “You couldn’t have known or done anything.”

She shook her head and gave him a sad smile. “You are so much like your brother. When things got really bad for Paul—when the doctors said there was nothing more that could be done—he didn’t tell me. He just withdrew, stayed cooped up in his apartment, and wouldn’t talk to me. You’ve done the same thing these past few days.”

Pete got up and pulled his chair around to Jane’s. He wiped another tear from her face and tried to lighten the mood. “You know us Bryant men—we’re like turtles, always retreating into our shells when the news is bad.”

“Terrible, stubborn turtles,” Jane muttered.

“We are, aren’t we?” He put his arm around her and pulled her close. “But the good thing is, we’ve got these really hard shells, and we’re tough. I’m going to be fine while I’m gone, Jane. And so will you.”

She sniffed and nodded, leaning her head against his shoulder.

Pete continued. “But I’ll feel better leaving if I know you and the twins are taken care of.”

“We’ll be okay,” Jane assured him.

He took her hand. “I want you to be better than that. I want to know you’ll have everything you need—that you’re provided for.”

Jane tilted her face up to his. “What do you mea—?”

“Marry me, Jane,” Pete whispered. “I know I shouldn’t ask until I’m done with the military, but I don’t want to wait. This is the right thing to do . . .”
Was that the right way to ask?
Judging by the look on her face, he didn’t think so.

Inwardly he grimaced as she continued to stare at him without saying anything. He shouldn’t have asked her so quickly—that hadn’t been his intention. They were supposed to have dinner first, to be out under the stars, to have everything as nice as it could be for her, but he’d started, and he couldn’t stop now.

“If we marry, then you’ll be entitled, as a spouse, to my military benefits. And Richard has promised to keep my health coverage going while I’m gone. The three of you will be covered—Mark’s surgery bills won’t amount to anything more than co-pays. And if you get sick you can go to the doctor.”

“Insurance?”
Jane asked incredulously as she pulled away from him. “You want to get married so we’ll have health benefits?”

“Of course there’s more to it than that. We like each other, we—”

“We
like
each other?” Jane pushed her chair back. Fresh tears coursed down her face.

“I thought we did.” Pete rose from his chair as she stepped around him. He caught her arm. “If you don’t feel the same as you did—if that’s changed, then we could continue as we are. You could live in your house, and I’ll stay in mine. We don’t have to be like a normal married couple. I’ll be gone soon—”

“No,” Jane cried. She wrenched her arm free. “No.” She ran across the room and down the stairs.

“Jane,” Pete called, following her. “Wait.”

She shook her head and kept running through the main cabin and down the boat ramp. She made it to her car and quickly dug through her purse to find the keys. Pete came up behind her. Jane whirled on him, pointing the key at his chest.

She was sobbing. “Marriage isn’t about insurance. It’s about sharing friendship and faith and—and life-altering love. I can’t marry without those things, Peter.”

He took a step toward her, then stopped. He wanted to pull her to him, to hold her tight and kiss away her tears. He’d done it again, he realized. He’d upset her just like he had when they first met, and the night they first kissed.

“If you want to see the twins, call my mom. But it’s my turn now.
I
need some time to—to deal with . . .” She threw her hands up. “This.” Wrapping her arms around herself she looked down at the asphalt.

“I warned you,” he reminded her. “That first night, after the police station, I apologized for future times when my mouth would likely function separate from my brain.”

“Brutal honesty,” Jane recalled. She pursed her lips together, took a deep breath and looked up at him. “I remember.” Turning away, she climbed in the Jeep, slammed the door shut, and hit the lock button. Jamming the key in the ignition, she started the engine and drove forward through the empty space in front of her and out of the parking lot.