Counting Stars (31 page)

She allowed herself a last glimpse of Peter through the rearview mirror and saw that he’d already turned his back and was walking in the opposite direction.

Chapter Fifty-Six

Jane stopped at the red light and rummaged through her purse for a tissue. Unable to find one, she carelessly wiped the back of her hand across her eyes, paying no attention to the mascara trailing down her cheeks. It didn’t matter what she looked like now. It didn’t matter if she went home and consumed two more bags of chocolate—every night for the next month.

Fresh tears sprouted, and she sniffed loudly. The blurred traffic light turned green, and she stepped on the gas, taking off faster than she should have into the intersection. A horn blared, and Jane gasped. Jerking the wheel to the right, she narrowly avoided colliding with a car turning left. This sent her careening toward a minivan going right. Another horn blared as she braked and cranked the wheel in the opposite direction.

Miraculously, the Jeep jetted between the two cars. Glancing up, Jane realized it was only the left-hand turn arrow that was green. She’d almost caused an accident.

“Sorry,” she whispered sheepishly as her heart pounded. The driver of the minivan glared at her as he drove by. She wished the street would swallow her whole and keep her awhile. A second later, she really wished it, when she heard sirens and saw the flashing lights of a police car behind her.

“Oh, no.” Another torrent of tears unleashed themselves. Jane pulled to the side of the road and parked the car. She leaned over to the glove box and opened it. The spare diaper she kept in there tumbled out. Jane grabbed it, along with the envelope of papers she hoped held the car’s registration.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, she groaned as she saw her face—a blotchy, puffy, red-and-black mess.
At least you didn’t drink anything,
she tried to console herself. Though with her luck, and looking as she did, the officer would probably think she was intoxicated anyway. If he asked her to get out and walk a straight line, she might be in trouble. Jane doubted she was capable of doing much right now. Her head pounded, her stomach was in knots, she hadn’t eaten dinner, and it felt like she’d cried out a third of the water in her body. She’d likely collapse on the pavement, and they’d cart her away for psychoanalysis.

Jane looked around for a tissue or a napkin. Finding nothing, she grabbed the diaper and opened it. Wiping it across her face, she tried to mop up her tears.

A knock sounded at the window and she jumped, giving a little shriek and dropping the diaper. The police officer knocked again, and she turned the key so she could roll down the window.

“License and registration,” he said, holding out his hand.

Jane nodded and grabbed her purse from the seat. With shaking fingers, she pulled her license from her wallet and handed it to the officer.

“Just a moment and I’ll find the registration.” She took the envelope from the seat and opened it.
Please be in here,
she prayed. The tags didn’t expire until next month, so she hadn’t bothered to renew them or change the car over to her name. She unfolded the first paper and found a warranty for the car battery. The second paper was a record of tire rotation.

Jane glanced up at the officer and gave him a shaky smile. “I’m sure it’s here.”

“This your car?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. It belongs to my—friend.” Despite her effort to hold them back, new tears tumbled down her cheeks. Her chest heaved twice until finally, embarrassed but unable to stop herself, Jane leaned her head forward on the steering wheel and began to cry in earnest.

The officer cleared his throat. “Ma’am, why don’t you get out of the car and—?”

Jane lifted her head. “I’m okay. Really, I am.” She used her sleeve to wipe her face again. “It’s just my friend—the one who owns this—he broke up with me, or I thought he did, but he was just upset because he’s going back to Iraq. He flies an Apache.” Thinking of Pete in his helicopter made her upset all over again. She took several short, jerky breaths. “It’s so—dangerous, and he was upset about leaving the children, so he didn’t talk to me.” She looked up at the officer, a plea in her eyes. “But now he wants to
marry
me.” Her voice rose to a high, trembling pitch “But only so our children will have
insurance.
” Jane hiccuped loudly, taking several more short, gasping breaths as she tried to get her emotions under control.

It was a futile effort. All she could think about was Peter leaving and the fact that he didn’t love her. She didn’t know which had her more upset at the moment. Looking out the front window at the blurred street lamps, she spoke quietly to herself.

“It’s so dangerous there. What if he crashes and never comes home? His father never came home.”

The officer bent down close to her window. “Why don’t you—?”

“He said we
liked
each other,” Jane turned her face to the officer. “But I
love
him. I love him so much it hurts, and yet I shouldn’t, and he has no idea . . .” She began to cry again.

The officer let out a long, frustrated sigh. “Just a minute,” he mumbled. Straightening, he studied her driver’s license then walked back to his patrol car.

Jane picked up the diaper and blew her nose into it. She fought to regain some of her control and began looking for the registration again. She finally found it, folded with a pink paper, cut in the shape of a heart. Opening it, she began to read.

December 22, 2000

Tamara,

I still can’t believe you agreed to be my wife. I’m counting the days until you walk down the aisle to me. We’ll speak our vows and drive off into the sunset together. I thought this Jeep would do nicely—getting us to some pretty remote places. Until then, think of me every time you get behind the wheel.

All my love,

Peter

Jane dropped the paper as if it had scorched her. Peter and
Tamara?
She read the names again just to be sure. This whole time his heart had belonged to someone else? She remembered his strange confession at the start of the evening.

“I tried to stop a wedding.”

Jane knew she should have made him tell her why. But at the time, she’d only been thinking that she finally understood the mystery of why the two brothers had ceased their relationship. She realized the wedding must have been only the tip of the iceberg. She’d had no idea how deep or serious their animosities must have run—each in love with the same woman. Earlier conversations floated through her mind, seeming now like obvious clues she should have recognized.

“She’ll be a dancer like her mother.”

“I didn’t know Tamara was a dancer. What else do you know about her?”

“Quite a bit.”

Jane’s face was dry now. She sat stiffly in her seat—Pete’s—no—
Tamara’s
seat.

“A lot of miles on this thing. I bought it new in 2000 . . .

“It made a lot of trips to hospitals . . .”

“I guess it wasn’t just Paul and Tamara driving off into the sunset.”

Jane pounded her fist on the wheel. “I am
so
stupid.”

“How did Paul come to have your car, anyway?”

“It was a wedding present.”

“You failed to mention
whose
wedding, ” Jane muttered. “Why did I have to fall in love with a
twin?
” Paul and Peter were
so
alike that they’d each fallen for the same woman. Jane stared out the windshield, sobered by the realization that they’d also each settled for her, recognizing what she was—a good mother to the twins.

A good mother. That was it. Not a
wife.

Jane leaned her head back against the seat, too tired and too angry to cry anymore. The ache in her heart went beyond tears or chocolate or anything else that had helped her cope before.

The officer returned. “Miss Warner?”

“Yes.” Jane handed him the registration.

“Please step out and—”

“No problem.” Jane unlocked the door and got out of the car.

The officer nodded to the yellow line painted along the side of the road. Jane walked over to it and placed one foot in front of the other on the line.

“I promise I’m not intoxicated or under the influence of drugs.” She walked a few feet, turned and came back.
Just a simple broken heart that has me out of whack.

“That’ll do.” He beckoned her over. “By chance does this car belong to—and does your earlier crying and subsequent running of a light—happen to have anything to do with a—” the officer glanced down at his clipboard. “Peter Bryant?”

“Yes,” she said slowly. “How did you know?”

“Checked the computer. Seems there was an incident back in February.”

Jane’s mouth hung open. “I have a
police record?
”

“Not exactly.” Unfolding the registration, the officer finished writing out the ticket, then tore off her copy and handed it to her. “I know you’ve had a rough night, but you did run a red light and could have caused a serious accident.”

Jane clutched the ticket and nodded. “I know, and I’m terribly sorry.”

He looked at her. “I’d advise you to stay away from this fellow. He seems to be trouble.” Jane opened the door and got back into the Jeep.

“That’s very sage counsel, officer, and I assure you, I plan to follow it.”

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Caroline slammed down the phone and stormed into the living room where Ryan and Scott were watching the game. Hands on hips, she stood right in front of the television.

“Ah c’mon Caroline. Bases are loaded, and it’s the ninth.” Scott leaned to the side, trying to see the TV.

Caroline didn’t move. She looked at her husband. “I’m going out for a while. Listen for Andrew. He’ll need to be changed and have a bottle when he wakes up.”

“You don’t want to take him with you?” Ryan asked, hopeful as he loaded a tortilla chip with salsa.

“No, I don’t.” Caroline walked toward the door, grabbing her purse from the table and her keys from the hook.

“What’s wrong, Mom?” Jessica looked up from the coffee table where she’d been doing a puzzle.

“Where you going?” Ryan asked, his attention more focused on the television in front of him than his wife’s errand.

“Jane is upset, and I am going to have a little chat with Peter,” Caroline said, answering both their questions.

“What’d
he
do?” Scott asked, looking sideways at Ryan.

“Asked Jane to marry him,” Caroline said, her hand on the doorknob.

Ryan looked confused. “Isn’t that what we expected him to do?”

“Yes,” Caroline said matter-of-factly. “He just didn’t do it the
way
we expected him to.” She opened the door, stepped outside, and slammed the door behind her. Ryan stared at it a moment, then returned his attention to the game.

“Whoo-ee,” Scott whispered under his breath. “Wouldn’t want to be Pete just now.”

“Me either,” Ryan mumbled appreciatively through another bite of dip.

Jessica walked over to the window, pulled back the curtains, and watched her mother drive off. After a minute, she looked over her shoulder at her dad. “Don’t you think we should call Uncle Pete and warn him that a madwoman in a minivan is headed his way?”

Ryan and Scott looked at each other a moment, then said, “Naw,” at the same time.

“It’ll be okay, Jess,” Ryan assured her.

“Yeah,” Scott echoed. “It will be a good test of whether Pete really wants to be
Uncle
Pete.”

* * *

At the stop sign at the end of their road, Caroline dug through the CDs in her console. Finding the one she wanted, she ejected
Disney Favorites Vol. 3
and put in
Blondie.
Scanning to the right song, she waited until it came on before she hit the gas again. Her hands gripping the wheel, her eyes focused on the road, she thought of Peter as the lyrics blared. “One way or another,” he
was
going to get it.

Her mind whirred with the exact words she planned to share with him. But first, she had to make a couple of quick stops.

* * *

The doorbell rang a second time—a long, grinding noise that prompted Peter to hurry down the stairs. He hadn’t been asleep—couldn’t begin to get his thoughts to settle after the disastrous evening with Jane. He hoped that was her at the door now and that they could straighten this whole mess out. It was barely nine o’clock, and he’d expected to still be on the boat, looking at the stars, his fiancée in his arms. Instead, he was alone again, and knew full well that
somehow
he was responsible. Unsure what he would say if it was Jane, Pete flipped on the front porch light and opened the door.

She came at him before he even had the door all the way open, her right fist connecting with his jaw.

“Ow,” he cried, stepping back as his hand automatically went to his cheek. “
Caroline!
What’d you do
that
for?”

In answer, she swung a bulging bag toward him, catching him in the gut. “How dare you treat my sister like that.”

Pete caught the bag of what felt like encyclopedias before it hit the floor. He took a step back, his foot pushing the door closed on his would-be sister-in-law.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Caroline’s own foot stopped the door, and she threw her whole weight into fighting to keep it open.

Pete let her think she was winning—just enough so that he could hear what she had to say. No way he was letting her in the house.

“Do you have
any
idea what you’ve done?” Caroline demanded.

“Apparently not,” Pete said. He tossed the bag aside and it landed with a thud on the carpet. “Is that a bomb or something?” he asked, only half joking.

“No, but good idea,” Caroline said. “You certainly deserve it after what you pulled tonight.”

“Enlighten me,” Pete said, growing more annoyed by the minute. “Because in my mind I don’t see that I’ve committed any crime—going to great lengths to arrange a moonlit cruise along the bay so Jane and I could have a nice, romantic night.”

“Romantic?” Caroline scoffed, shoving the door into his shoulder. “You told her you wanted to marry her so she and the twins would have insurance benefits.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Pete asked. “I care about them, and Mark has major surgery coming up. I don’t want Jane to have to cover that on her own.”

“How noble of you,” Caroline said sarcastically. “Those are the words every woman longs to hear when she’s proposed to. Much better than, ‘I’m counting the days until you walk down the aisle to me. We’ll speak our vows and drive off into the sunset together.’”

Pete stood in stunned silence for nearly a minute. At last he opened the door and looked at Caroline. “How did you know about that?”

“About Tamara, you mean? Jane was crying so hard she ran a red light on the way home tonight.”

Pete took an anxious step forward. “Is she okay?”

Caroline nodded. “She got a ticket and found your little note with the car registration.”

Pete let out a long sigh. He ran his fingers through his hair and looked steadily at Caroline. “All right. Let’s have it.”

“
How
could you do this to Jane? Do you have
any
feelings for her—or has this whole thing just been a joke?” Caroline stepped across the threshold, jabbing her finger into his chest. “Because she is in love with you, and Jane has
never
been in love with
anyone
before. She wants to marry you—more than anything. She’s even decided you’re worth marrying outside the Church. But now she thinks you don’t love her—that you’re willing to settle for her for the sake of the twins.”

Pete shook his head. “That’s not true. I do—I do love her,” he admitted quietly.

“Then you better figure out a way to prove it.” Caroline looked up at the living room ceiling, blinking rapidly.

Pete was surprised to see tears in her eyes.
Oh no, not again—not another one.

Caroline continued. “You know, when Jane was a little girl and we’d play Barbies together, she always wanted to play getting married. We’d plan these big elaborate weddings. Ken would get shoe polish on his head so his plastic hair would shine. We’d make Barbie this great tissue-paper gown. All the other dolls sat in rows on our lunch boxes listening to the ceremony . . . It was her favorite thing to play.” Caroline smiled sadly. “Jane loved all the Disney fairy tales—couldn’t watch them enough, even when she was older. She asked for the
Beauty and the Beast
video for her sixteenth birthday. She’s always been a hopeless romantic.” Caroline sighed, then looked steadily at Peter.

“Jane has been a bridesmaid
seven
times—once for each of us and once for one of her friends. She has dreamed of her own fairy-tale love story—and despaired of ever having one—for years . . . And now you’ve broken her heart.”