Mind of Her Own (15 page)

Settling back into his leather office chair, Collin held one of Louisa’s stories in his lap. His tuna sandwich remained untouched as he munched barbeque chips. As he continued reading, he felt he had made the right decision to build Jazz an office. When they’d returned from the memory-making camping trip, he’d checked out the work that had been done while they were gone. The transformation from workshop to office was well on its way. The walls were painted a nice butter yellow, and the plush, sandy-colored carpet had replaced the workshop atmosphere.

At the end of the chapter, he set the pages aside and took a bite of his sandwich. Glancing at the clock on his desk, he decided he had enough time to read a few pages of Louisa’s journal. Not that he wanted to. Almost every page drew blood with the sharp words of disappointment in their marriage. He discovered Louisa thought taking out the trash was equal to hugs and kisses. One day he had driven the soccer car pool, and she had written three pages on how wonderful it had been to have time alone to write.

He picked up the journal and then set it back down. He couldn’t do it. He didn’t want to read about his old life. Now he had Jazz to love. His heart quickened as he realized what he had never admitted. Could it be possible Jazz was easier to love than Louisa? He wanted to know everything about Jazz: Why did she stare off into space and then jump when he touched her arm? Why did she dissect movies when she watched them? That’s it. He would learn all her secrets.

After a few moments he decided to take her away for a romantic getaway—no kids, no tents, and if it rained, it wouldn’t matter. He pulled out his BlackBerry and opened the calendar to check when he could leave. He couldn’t go on Friday, but if they left after lunch this Saturday, he wouldn’t have to be back until court Monday afternoon. He had heard his secretary talking about a quaint little town not too far away—
R
-something? He grasped the phone on his desk and asked his secretary to come in.

* * *

Hail crashed against the window, waking Jazz. The lightning flashed repeatedly. She pulled the blanket over her head to block the irritating light. Inside, a headache kept time with the rolling thunder.

She flung back the covers and fumbled for the bedside light. The switch clicked in her hand. Nothing. The clock next to the light no longer gave off its familiar eerie green glow. The air stilled, and for a second, the house seemed to have no life. The ceiling fan no longer turned; the vents didn’t send out air. Just stillness, then thunder, louder than before. She clutched her head between her hands in an attempt to stop the pain. The ibuprofen was downstairs in the kitchen.

The lightning flashed again, sending a fresh wave of pain through her. She had to get relief. She shivered and tugged one of Collin’s shirts over her tank top and boxer shorts. At the top of the stairs, she peeked over the railing. The storm sent a flash and briefly lit the room. Collin’s shape didn’t seem to be moving on the couch. She crept down the stairs, praying she wouldn’t wake him. He needed his sleep.

Jazz made it to the kitchen. She stood in front of the open cabinet, ready to cry in frustration. Darkness made it impossible for her to know which bottle contained the ibuprofen. She found two bottles that felt right in her hand. But which one was it? One of them had to be Cleo’s heartworm medication. She set them on the counter, reluctant to take a chance. She had made the trip for nothing.

“Jazz?” Collin’s whisper made her jump. “What are you doing?”

She turned and reached out to grasp his arm. He stilled beneath her hand. His stillness electrified her feelings. She could hear his breath in the darkness and wanted to crawl into his arms. Did he have to smell so good? Her defenses were down, and she knew it. The headaches seemed to make her vulnerable to a strong desire for him.

Pulling away, she said, “Headache. I’m sorry I woke you.” The words rushed from her mouth. “Where’s a flashlight? The power is out.”

“There’s one in the basket on top of the fridge.” He brushed past her close enough for her to feel his warmth on her back. “I’ll get it.”

She could hear him fumbling in the basket, and was grateful for the distraction and the darkness. She knew she had to make a choice soon. Either be Collin’s wife or not. It was that simple. Or at least it sounded easy.

“Got it.” The click of a button seemed to flood the room with light. “I’ll hold it while you open the bottle.”

“Thanks, but you could set it on the counter and go back to sleep. I know you need to be at the office early.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m not sleeping well. I keep expecting the storm to wake one of the kids.”

Guilt flooded her. “The kids. I didn’t even think about them. Should we check on them?”

“You have a headache, and you aren’t used to checking on them. If they were awake and scared, you would know it.” Collin’s words reassured her that she hadn’t made another mistake. “Jazz, will you go away with me for a weekend? Just the two of us? No kids?”

Stunned at his request, she didn’t answer. Thoughts, bouncing as fast as popcorn in a microwave, burst in her mind.
A weekend alone, in the same room?
A choice had to be made.

“We’ll have your mom stay with the kids,” Collin said. “I’m sure she’d be happy to watch them. She hasn’t been here in a while.”

“I don’t know, Collin. I don’t think I’m ready to take that step.” She couldn’t, not yet. Not until she felt comfortable being—that’s just it, being who?

“No steps, Jazz. Just a chance to rediscover—discover each other. I can’t keep living like this. I want you for my wife, and I intend to do what I can to make that happen.”

Her heart thudded with the realization that “discover each other” didn’t mean finding out who her favorite singer was when she was thirteen.

“If you go with me, I’ll buy you a laptop.”

“A bribe, Collin?”

“If that’s what it takes.” He pulled her close and kissed her. “That’s a bribe to go with me, not to sleep with me.”

She backed away and bumped into the counter. “Do I have to tell you tonight?”

“No, but I wish you would.”

She thought about what he was asking of her. In her heart, she felt God would want her to go—not for the computer, but to get to know Collin. Didn’t she just pray about what choice to make? She didn’t expect to have to make it in the middle of a thunderstorm, though.

“Jazz, are you going to say anything?”

“I don’t know what to say. If I say yes, then I feel like a bought woman because of the computer. If I say no, then I have to keep sharing with the kids. I think I would like to go with you, but now I’m confused.”

“Forget the computer, then. I’ve already bought it. I just wanted to give it to you at the right time.” He paused and ran his hands through his hair. “I shouldn’t have tried to bribe you.”

“You bought me a laptop? Can I have it now?”

“It’s not here yet. I ordered it.”

She rushed into him and hugged him tight. “Thank you! You do believe in me.” She reached up and kissed him. Fighting the urge to hold on, she let go. “Good night.” She sped through the room as a round of lightning flooded through the windows. Halting a safe distance away, she looked back in the darkened room at his silhouette. “Thank you.”

Jazz eased the bedroom door closed behind her and rested her back against the six-panel door. She hadn’t given him an answer. Could she do it? Spend a weekend alone with Collin? The thought sent shivers through her. And they weren’t the tingles of joy she had expected.

Collin opened the door to his old workshop. He stepped inside and locked the door. Reaching under his striped T-shirt, he removed a copy of
From the Inside Out
, by Susan May Warren and Rachel Hauck. Late at night last week he had wandered into a chat room full of romance writers and asked for recommendations. This book topped everyone’s list.

He rubbed his hand over the smooth oak bookshelves he had installed along one wall. Proud of his handiwork, he placed the book next to a new shrink-wrapped dictionary. There should be more books or something else on the shelves, maybe some seashells, but he didn’t have any. He didn’t want to put any of Louisa’s collections in the room. Somehow he didn’t think Jazz would appreciate that touch. And he wanted her appreciation. More than wanted it—he craved it.

The yellow paint on the walls caught the light from the ceiling and bounced a sunny glow over the room. The ocean mural on the back wall made the room uniquely Jazz’s. It had to be his favorite part. Jazz wanted an ocean, and he had found one. He beat his fists against his chest, then looked around, embarrassed and glad no one could see him strutting around like a big bad rooster. He imagined her sitting in the wicker rocker reading over her day’s writing and gazing out into the mural’s horizon, or perhaps inviting him to sit with her while she read her work aloud to him. The mural looked real, or it did if you squinted and didn’t focus on the seam lines. All the room needed for ambience was the sound of waves crashing against the shoreline. He could do that with a sound machine. Madison would know where to find one, but then he’d have to tell her about the room. No, he didn’t want any chance of this secret getting out until he was ready. He’d find one himself.

As he continued to survey his handiwork, he could picture Jazz’s face shining in excitement. Then Jazz turned back into Louisa, her hair pulled back, her face accusing. He could almost hear her ask why he hadn’t loved her this much.

With a leaden heart, he left the workshop, asking God to ease his guilt and make sense of the confliction he felt about his wife’s two personalities. And while he was asking, could God make his life normal again, but with a mix of Louisa and Jazz?

* * *

At a rapid clip, Jazz charged down the basement stairs, followed by Cleo. “Collin!” She banged on the workshop door. “You can’t stay down here anymore.”

He opened the door a crack, and she tried to peer around him. “You’re always down here when you’re home. What are you doing, anyway?”

“Nothing. Just stuff.”

“Stuff and nothing? Then you won’t mind climbing those stairs and separating your children from each other’s throats and walking that beast.” She pointed her finger toward the stairs, where Cleo sat panting and watching them. “Now!” She spun on her heel and headed back upstairs, not even checking to see if he was following her demands.

“Louisa?” Collin whispered after her.

At the name, her feet stopped, and a chill settled within her. “No,” she said, almost not breathing. “Did I sound like her?”

“A little.”

“I’m sorry.” Jazz turned to face him, unsure what sounding like Louisa would mean to him—to them.

“It’s not a bad thing to sound like her, Jazz. You are her.”

“In theory.” She looked down at the carpeted stairs. Time to face the fact that she may never return to being Louisa, and if she was truthful, she didn’t want to. She liked who she was even if her past didn’t hold a single strand of truth. She wanted to be Collin’s wife and best friend. She wanted to wake up next to him every morning. Odd as it sounded, Louisa never needed to return—but if she didn’t, Jazz would have to get past the creepy crawlies in her stomach when she thought of sleeping with him. She looked up to find Collin staring at her.

“What are you thinking about?” His face reflected the caring he seemed to have for her.

“Dinner. I thought I could cook something—tuna casserole.” She hoped to distract him. Food seemed to be a passion for him.

“No. I don’t think that’s what you’re thinking about. You never think about what to cook.” Collin squinted one eye and cocked his head. “I think you’re thinking about us.” He took a step toward her.

She gasped. He had read her that well? It wasn’t fair that he knew all of Louisa’s habits and traits and could apply them to her, Jazz. Not when she didn’t know him as well. Maybe she should go away with him and take a notebook. She could write down all of his quirks and put them on a spreadsheet.

Collin reached his hand toward her. “Come here.”

Jazz found her feet moving on their own in obedience to his order. She chastised herself for not stopping or at least taking her time as she sidled close.

His arms wrapped around her, enveloping her in calmness and security. “So have you decided to go away with me?”

“Yes,” she said, knowing that one word had propelled her relationship into a marriage with Collin. She felt his arms tighten. Feeling suffocated, she pushed him away with force. “I’ll go. Don’t make a big deal out of this, okay? It’s only a weekend away. A long extended date, really.”

“If that’s how you want it, Jazz.” His husky voice sent shivers through her. Collin took a step back. “I’ll get the kids and take them for ice cream. You can come along if you like or stay here and relax.”

“I’ll stay here alone.”

Collin stared, then shrugged his shoulders. “We’ll be back in an hour.” He brushed his hand against her cheek. “Enjoy your time,” he said as he turned away.

Jazz blinked back tears and followed him up the stairs. He had to be as confused as she. Would she ever understand her hot and cold nature? Why did she continue to push him away when he was so easy to love?

As they reached the top of the stairs, she asked, “Collin? When are we going?”

“This Saturday. I made reservations yesterday. I had a feeling you would go with me.”

“So soon?” She hadn’t expected him to be that prepared. But maybe it would be better to go quickly before she had time to consider the ramifications of her decision and change her mind.

“Not soon enough,” he replied, so low she almost didn’t hear him.

She reached up to brush a swatch of hair from her face.

Collin grabbed her hand. “Why is your wedding ring on your right hand?”

Jazz took her hand back and extended it. The light bounced from the six diamonds stacked two deep across the platinum band. “I’m using it as my right-hand ring.”

“Your what?”

“It’s kind of a new thing. Women are taking charge of their own happiness. Instead of waiting for a husband or boyfriend to surprise them with a diamond ring, they buy one for themselves.”

“But that’s your wedding ring.”

“No. It’s Louisa’s, not mine.”

* * *

The traffic began to creep forward inches at a time. Collin couldn’t wait to get out of the car. This part of the road trip wasn’t going the way he’d planned. Since Jazz had opened her computer, she’d said very little. He’d tried to ask her questions about what she was writing, but all he received for an answer was a stare that could have shrunk him to Tim’s size.

Had they been in this car for only three hours? Impossible! It had to be longer. His idea of driving with the top down hadn’t lasted more than thirty miles before Jazz demanded he pull into a rest stop and put it up. The sun was glaring on her screen, she’d said, and she couldn’t see. He glanced over to see that her fingers were still flying.

“Jazz, I think we’re almost there. Want to help me look for signs?”

She stared back at him. The same look he’d witnessed on a client’s face who had been convicted of murder. “Sorry.” He began to wish he hadn’t bought the computer for her. He knew he regretted giving it to her right before they left. And what made him think giving it to her with a power cord for the car was a good thing?

Keys continued to click, the repetitive sound making him edgy. He liked the song on the satellite station. Who was singing? He looked down at the screen for the artist’s name.

“Watch out. Stay in your lane.” Jazz’s excited voice startled him, and he corrected the car.

“I was in my lane. I’m surprised you even know you’re in a car. You could be on a cruise and wouldn’t know it.”

Collin heard a snap as she closed the screen. He breathed a sigh of relief. Now maybe they could spend some time talking. He blinked. Talking? He wanted to talk? Would his life ever get back to conversations about baseball?

“There, turn there!” Jazz pointed to a street as it went by. She settled back in her seat and gave him a disgusted look. “You passed it. Didn’t you see the sign, ‘Turn here for Rocheport’?”

“You distracted me.” He gripped the steering wheel tighter.

“Now we’ll have to turn around and be even later checking in.”

Was she smiling? Collin couldn’t tell without stopping the car to look at her. She seemed to be, though. It saddened him that the thought of being alone with him scared her. He reached over and grasped her hand to give it a gentle squeeze before releasing it.

A sign for a gas station peeked above the tree line. He rounded the corner, and there stood the abandoned gas station. Weeds poked through the cracks of the cement. A crooked overhang looked lonely, standing sentinel over rusty gas pumps.
A reflection of my marriage.
He whipped the car through the lot and back onto the two-lane road.

* * *

Collin tightened his grip on the handle of the duffel bag and yanked it out. He set it next to Jazz’s on the parking lot and slammed the trunk. The trip to Rocheport had taken longer than he had expected. When he printed out directions, the suggested travel time didn’t include construction slowdowns.

Jazz stood motionless next to the car.

“Jazz? What do you think?”

“It’s so quaint,” Jazz said as she turned slowly in circles, taking in their surroundings. “They call it the Schoolhouse Bed and Breakfast Inn. Do you think it was? A schoolhouse, I mean?”

Collin stared at the redbrick building, three stories high with six long and wide windows across the top. “It looks like an old grade school to me. I’m sure they’ll tell us the history when we register.”

He picked up the luggage and began walking to the door, then noticed Jazz wasn’t following him. He stopped. She no longer stood in front of the car. He scanned the parking lot. No Jazz. Where did she go? Her red dress peeked out from a green bush and caught his attention. “Jazz, are you coming?”

“Collin, you have to see this.” She poked her head out from behind the bush. “It’s an old school bell.”

“Later. I want to get settled in first before we explore.” Collin turned and began walking up the sidewalk to the steps.

Jazz rushed up behind him and touched his arm. “Can we put our stuff away and explore the area?”

“Sure.” A nice walk would be great. At least she couldn’t take her computer along with them. Maybe being married to a writer wouldn’t be as fun as he originally thought.

Jazz raced ahead of him. She waited at the top of the stairs with a huge smile that made him feel guilty about being grumpy. She held open the door, and he caught a hint of her perfume as he passed. The woman smelled great, and he couldn’t wait to get her into their room.

Inside, the foyer light from the doors and transom sparkled against the cream walls. A child’s rocking horse sat at the top of the stairs. Just off the lobby, an older man perched behind a dark wood desk. “Welcome to our inn. I’m Gary.”

Collin reached out and accepted Gary’s outstretched hand. “Collin Copeland, and this is my wife, Jazz.”

“We’ve been expecting you. Traffic bad today? Kind of thought you’d have been here a few hours ago.” He pushed a book toward Collin. “Please sign our guest book.”

Collin motioned for Jazz to sign the book. “You write better.”

Jazz picked up the pen next to the book and signed. Collin read over her shoulder and winced as she wrote his name, followed by
Jazz Sweet
.

“You two have one of the nicest rooms. It’s meant for couples.” Gary winked at Collin. “It’s on the second floor. We call it the Show-and-Tell room. It comes with a large Jacuzzi.”

Collin felt Jazz’s retreat before he saw her move.
Don’t leave,
he commanded her in his mind. He breathed a sigh of relief as she nudged him aside.

“I want my own room, please. I plan to be up late at night working, and I don’t want to disturb Collin—my husband.”

Her china-doll smile would have fooled anyone, but he knew she was running away from her feelings and from him.

Gary rubbed his chin. “Well, I don’t know. We didn’t plan for the extra room. It says here on the reservation you’re on a weekend getaway?”

“Sort of, but it would be better this way, please,” Jazz said. “It doesn’t have to be big.”

The change in plans caused obvious confusion for Gary. He looked at Collin with questions on his face.

Collin stiffly nodded his approval. He’d take this matter up with Jazz in private.

Gary flipped through his reservation book. “I suppose I could put you in Miss Edna’s room. She never married, you know. She taught school here for many years. It’s small, though. It doesn’t have a shower, just a tub. You wouldn’t even be on the same floor.”

“Perfect!” Jazz grinned.

“Yeah, perfect,” Collin muttered under his breath.