Authors: Michele Paige Holmes
Counting Stars (41 page)
Chapter Eighty-Three
Eight Months Later . . .
Jay clapped loudly, then brought his fingers to his lips and let out a shrill whistle as he watched Jane walk across the stage and receive the diploma for her master’s degree. His eyes followed her as she descended the steps. Walking toward her seat, she stopped halfway, blowing a kiss to someone in the crowd. Without turning his head, Jay knew who it was. Before the ceremony began, he’d seen her walk in with her husband and daughter.
Leaning back in his seat, he tuned out the rest of the program. He didn’t know or care about any of the other graduates. He’d only come to see Jane. She’d sent him an announcement, and he’d felt that to complete the “Jane chapter” of his life, he had to see her walk. He needed to know that the pardon he’d gotten for her from the dean—allowing her back into school to finish her degree—had been successful. She was on track with her life, where she’d been before he messed it up for her.
The ceremony ended, and the crowd began to disperse. Jay lingered in his seat, knowing he was missing any opportunity he might have to see Jane once more. But it wasn’t his place to be the one to give her flowers or to sweep her up in a hug and say how proud he was. His only responsibility now was to remain as she thought him to be—a kind, chivalrous, hero.
A smile broke out as he finally rose from his seat. He didn’t think Jane’s assessment of his character was completely on target, but he hoped she’d been right about one thing—about him finding someone . . . someday. Right now, it seemed a remote possibility, and Jay knew it would take someone special to make him forget the girl with pretty brown eyes who had saved his life and stolen his heart.
* * *
The spires of the temple rose up behind them, pointing heavenward. Peter tugged on Jane’s hand to get her to stop a minute, and they turned around, looking up. Beneath the clouds, the statue of the angel Moroni glistened, and Pete wondered how he’d ever had a hard time believing. The gospel was a real, tangible thing in his life. When he thought of the emptiness of his life before, it terrified him.
“Go,” Maddie said, patting his face.
“In a minute, Maddie.” He couldn’t stop looking at the temple.
“Everyone’s waiting for pictures,” Jane reminded him gently.
“I know.” Pete looked down at her, a tender expression on his face. “We did a good thing here today.”
She smiled. “Yes. I’ve caught you forever now.”
He squeezed her hand. “Not just for us, but for Mark, Paul, and Tamara. My parents . . .” Pete’s voice broke as he thought back to the moments he’d knelt across the altar from Jane, sealing not only their marriage, but his parents’ marriage, and Paul, Tamara, and Mark. Absolute joy was the only word he could think of to describe his feelings then and now.
Maddie hung her head back, dark curls trailing down the back of her white dress. “Go, Daddy.”
“All right,” Pete said reluctantly. “We’ll go now, Madison.” He looked at Jane. “But we’re coming back often. After all, that’s always been number one on Mommy’s list.”
Next from Michele Paige Holmes
September 2005
“Pick anyone you want,” Archer encouraged, nodding toward the stage where the women of the Harvard Ballet Company were rehearsing. “There’s Brenda, the tall blonde in the middle, or Katy the one with—”
“I
don’t
want,” Jay interrupted. “So just forget it.” He slouched lower in his seat.
“You must be blind.” Archer waved a hand in front of Jay’s face. “I’m offering you the best of Harvard right here—beautiful, talented women, and you won’t even consider it.”
Jay looked at his watch. “I’m going to head to the library. I’ll leave the bike for you and Trish.” He bent over, reaching for his backpack.
“No way,” Archer grabbed the pack and set it a few seats away, out of Jay’s reach. He looked at Jay. “You’ve hit the year mark. You’ve got to snap out of this. Besides, I promised Trish we’d double to Homecoming in the Yard this Friday, so you’d better pick a girl today. Otherwise all the good ones will be taken.”
Jay scowled. “You shouldn’t have promised Trish anything. The last thing I want to do is spend the evening riding a mechanical bull or eating pie with a bunch of freshmen. Anyway, I’m sure she’d rather have a night alone with you.” The music for the ballet started and he leaned his head back, brushing his hair off his collar. He’d been letting it grow since June—when he’d attended Jane’s graduation. Turning into a typical suit hadn’t been enough to win her, so he saw no point in continuing the farce when, as far as he was concerned, there wasn’t any other woman worth pursuing.
It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried. In an odd sort of way, seeing Jane with her husband had encouraged him to find someone he cared for as much as she did for Pete, someone he could build a life with. But the half dozen or so women he’d taken out over the course of the summer had completely turned him off of dating. He hadn’t found one who could scratch the surface of Jane’s compassionate and caring nature. And he certainly didn’t think he’d find one here today—in Harvard’s famed ballet company.
Archer elbowed him. “You’re not even watching the rehearsal. I mean, come on, check out their legs, and—“
“No thanks,” Jay said, cutting him off.
Archer grinned. “I’m telling you. You’re missing out on life. If I’d have known what a stuffy old law student you are, I probably wouldn’t have let you rent with us.” He turned his attention back to the stage.
Jay glanced at his backpack a few seats away and decided it wasn’t worth a scene or struggle to try and get it from Archer. Instead of going to the library just now, he’d close his eyes and indulge in a little nap. The music
was
soothing.
Archer elbowed him again. “Sit up and at least pretend you’re interested,” he ordered. Jay opened his eyes, glanced at his watch, and saw that twenty minutes had passed. The music had stopped and a break had been called. Trish waved as she left the stage and headed toward them, followed by a gaggle of tutued dancers.
Jay groaned.
“Hey Arch,” Trish called, bending over the row of seats in front of them. She leaned close, giving Archer a juicy kiss.
“Hi Archibald,” a girl behind her said.
Jay fought back a grin as he caught his roommate’s scowl. Archer hated this slander of his name. Who wouldn’t? Jay had thought on more than one occasion. But it came with the territory. Archer’s dad—a comic enthusiast—had named him after his favorite character, Archie. Unfortunately or fortunately, depending on how you looked at it, when Archer was just three years old he’d developed his own enthusiasm—for the movie and stories of Robin Hood. Since then he’d been telling everyone he was an archer, and the name had stuck—mostly. Though the brunette standing beside Trish obviously thought Archi
bald
a bit more appropriate.
Poor guy,
Jay thought again. Archer
was
getting a little thin on top.
“Jay, I’d like you to meet Candice. And this is . . .” Archer looked to Trish for help.
“Melanie,” Trish supplied, winking at Jay. “She’s a political science major. You two might have a lot to talk about.”
“Oh?” Melanie asked, raising her too-thin eyebrows.
“Jay’s a third-year law student,” Trish said.
“Ooh,” the girls chorused.
“I’m planning to work for the government,” Jay said, hoping to scare off the money seekers. “You know—a simple life of public service. Hopefully it’ll be enough to pay off my thousands of dollars in student loans.”
Gotcha,
he thought, noting several crestfallen faces. Archer’s was one of them.
Nice,
he mouthed to Jay.
Jay shrugged and shot him an innocent look.
“Well, we’ve got to get back,” Trish said. “We’ve only got a few minutes for break. Wanna come with me to get a drink, Archer?” She ran her tongue over her lips seductively.
Jay looked away, disgusted. He and Jane never would have behaved like that. No sooner had the thought come, than he remembered the day so many years ago now—so why couldn’t he forget—when he’d taken Jane’s face in his hands and kissed her in the hall at work. She’d been fired from her internship because of that kiss, and he’d almost lost his spot in the rehab program. But at the time, that one kiss had seemed worth the risk. Jay looked at Archer and Trish as they walked away, considering for the first time that maybe they really were in love.
Rising from his seat, Jay leaned over and grabbed his backpack. He put one strap over his shoulder just as the piano started playing again—though this time it wasn’t the ballet accompaniment he heard. Shrugging the strap onto his other shoulder, Jay looked toward the stage and saw that it was still empty. The entire auditorium was vacant, except for him and the unknown pianist at the front of the room.
The music continued as Jay made his way toward the aisle. The melody was haunting, unfamiliar . . . beautiful. Strangely moved by the notes, Jay hesitated at the end of the row, then removed his pack and sat down to listen. His classes were over for the day, and there really wasn’t any rush to get to the library. If only Archer had brought him to a concert rehearsal instead of ballet practice, Jay probably wouldn’t have balked at staying. Music had always been and continued to be the one, sure love of his life. And he would have bet money that the person on the other side of that piano felt the same way.
Jay closed his eyes, feeling the music as the piece hit a crescendo, then grew soft once more. He listened intently, noting the key change a few moments later as the music built again in fervor. He leaned into the aisle, trying to catch a glimpse of the pianist, but the instrument was angled such that he couldn’t see who was behind it. He imagined it must be a woman and that she was bent over the piano, as he couldn’t see the top of anyone’s head.
“You’re still here,” Archer said, coming up behind him.
“Shh.” Jay held a finger to his lips and nodded toward the front of the room.
“What?” Archer said, stepping over Jay to get to the seat next to him. “Are you deep in thought, contemplating which of those beautiful women you want to take to homecoming?”
Jay didn’t reply but listened as the music trailed off into a few last, lingering notes. He heard the foot pedal release, and he jumped up. “I want to meet the pianist.”
“That mousy thing?” Archer’s mouth hung open. “Tell me you’re not going to ask
her
out.”
So it
is
a woman.
Jay felt a stir of excitement. “Behind that piano is a very passionate female.”
Archer shrugged. “Suit yourself then, but I don’t think Trish will want to double with her.”
“I didn’t say date,” Jay whispered. “I said
meet.
” Though for as nervous as he suddenly felt, he might as well have been going on a date. He made his way toward the front of the auditorium, trying frantically to think of a good pickup line. Reaching the piano, he leaned forward over it, looking down on a blonde head.
“Do you take requests?”
The woman looked up, and Jay could see that he’d startled her. She held a pencil in her hand, and Jay glanced down at the clipboard resting on the keys. Penciled-in notes scrawled across staff paper that Jay could tell had been erased many times.
“I wondered if you wrote it,” he said, feeling his excitement mount. “It was beautiful—you play beautifully.”
“Thank you.” Her voice was quiet. Behind oversized glasses, her blue eyes darted around nervously.
“My name is Jay.” He held out his hand as his eyes quickly scanned the name typed at the top of the paper—
Sarah Morgan.
“I play the—” Someone tapped him on the shoulder. Thinking it was Archer, Jay turned around just as the woman gasped.
A fist met his left eye and he staggered backward. A second blow immediately followed the first, and this time Jay went down, blackness overtaking him just as the lights in the auditorium went out.
About the Author
Michele Holmes spent her childhood and youth in northern California and Arizona. After marrying her high school sweetheart in the Oakland California Temple (nearly 20 years ago!), they moved to Utah, and she now feels very blessed to enjoy a beautiful mountain view from her Provo home.
Michele graduated from Brigham Young University with a degree in elementary education—something that has come in handy with her four children, all of whom require food, transportation, or Band-Aids the moment she sits down at her computer to write.
In spite of all the interruptions, Michele is busy at work on her next novel. To learn more about her writing, please visit her website at michele paigeholmes.com or contact her via Covenant email at [email protected] or through snail mail at Covenant Communications, Inc., P.O. Box 416, American Fork, UT 84003-0416.
Other books by Michele Paige Holmes:
Counting Stars
All The Stars In Heaven
Captive Heart