Authors: Fern Michaels

Plain Jane (38 page)

BOOK: Plain Jane

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“Yes.”

“I should agree to this . . . why?”

“Because despite everything I did wrong, you turned into a beautiful human being. I want to prove to you that I love you, that I care about you. Staying here instead of going to the other side is the only way I know how to do that.”

“One of us is crazy, and it isn't me,” Jane mumbled. “Trixie always said you were nuts. She hates your guts . . . did hate your guts. Fred never liked you either. Did anyone ever like you? Did you have any friends? Of course you didn't. You loved yourself, and that was all you needed. I get so tired listening to you.” She drew her knees toward her chest and looked out the front window. “I'm getting married in June,” she said for no reason she could think of. “I picked out my dress today and my veil and my shoes. Fred's going to give me away, and Trixie is going to be my matron of honor. Don't say what you're thinking, Mother. Trixie is going to make a wonderful matron of honor.”

“Yes, she will. I'm sorry I won't be able to attend.”

Jane was incredulous. “Would you want to?”

“Of course.”

Taken aback by her mother's words, Jane could only nod.

Jane thought a moment. “I
could
have the wedding here, then you could . . . you know, circle around, do your thing. Mike might agree to that. Trixie and Fred won't like it, but if it's what I want, they'll go along with it. I'll think about it.”

“Your headache is getting worse. You should sleep now, Jane. It will help relieve it. So you agree to let me stay here?”

“If that's what you want, you can stay.”

“Shhh, sleep now. Hush little baby . . .”

It was dark when Jane woke. The lightbulb dangling from the living-room ceiling shone directly into her eyes. She stretched and looked around. How long had she been sleeping ? Her watch was in the car. She shook her head. “I'm not even going to try and figure this one out,” she mumbled.

She had her hand on the kitchen doorknob when she turned around to peer into the darkness. “Good night, Mom.”

“Good night, Jane. Will you come back?”

“Yes, I'll come back. Do you think you could give me a hug, Mom?”

“I thought you would never ask.”

It wasn't one of Fred's bone-crushing hugs or one of Trixie's skinny-armed hugs nor was it one of Mike's intimate hugs. It was ethereal, warm and peaceful, almost like warm water and filmy veils caressing her body. She felt like singing when she left the house. She looked back once and thought she saw her mother waving from the front window. She stood still and wiggled her fingers and laughed. This feeling had to be right up there with winning an Oscar on Academy Awards night.

Mike's eyes lit up, a silly smile spreading beneath his sexy new mustache. Jane ran straight into his arms. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, wrapping her arms around him, wanting to dissolve inside him. She began kissing him, soft little kisses at first, then longer, more seductive caresses with her lips and tongue contrived to evoke his passions and responses.

Mike seemed overwhelmed by Jane's sudden display of emotion, but primal need kicked in, and he lifted her into his arms, carried her up the steps, and took her to the bedroom.

Jane's fingers were frantic as they worked the buttons of his shirt loose and the fastenings of his belt. She murmured breathless, desperate words of need. Her hands touched his bare chest, caressing the smooth expanse of his skin. Then she explored the skin she touched with her mouth. Impatient with the confining fabric of their clothing, Jane practically ripped the garments from her body, then turned back to hurry Mike with his.

Feeling him against her, his skin melding with hers, their hearts beating the same beat, Jane stretched out beneath him and gave herself to the moment, to the desire she felt for him.

“Take me now, Mike!” she implored, thrashing wildly under his weight. “Take me now!” she pleaded.

The desperate edge in her voice was disguised by the passion in her words. He covered her, rocked against her. She trapped him in the grip of her thighs and the clutch of her arms. She knew that his love for her was compelling him to satisfy her desires.

Jane tried to lose herself in the arms of the man she loved. She tried to hide in him, to make herself safe from those nebulous spirits who had invaded her life. Mike pulled back, the expression on his face telling her he knew something was wrong.

“Do you want to talk about it, Jane?”

She told him about her decision not to destroy the house and her desire to make peace with her mother. “I saw her ghost, Mike. I saw her just as plain as I'm seeing you right now. We talked, and she told me she knew why I was there and that she didn't want me to forgive her, that she wanted to try to atone for all her past wrongs. She begged me to let her stay in the house and to visit her from time to time.” Jane glanced out the window. “I told her I was getting married, and she said she was sorry she wouldn't be able to attend.” She looked at Mike. “She
could
attend, Mike . . .
if
we had our wedding there, at the house. Do you think I'm crazy?” she dithered.

Mike put his arm around her and pulled her close. “No, of course not. I think it's a great idea. You've been trying for years and years to deal with all the things that went wrong with your life and your mother. Having the wedding there . . . that's the perfect reconciliation.”

“Then you . . . you believe me. About her ghost, I mean.”

“Hell yes. I haven't forgotten that one encounter with what's his name, Billy. To this day I don't know if it was a dream or if I really saw a ghost. It was damn real in my opinion. There are some things in life, Jane, that defy explanation. And ghosts are one of them. Whatever you want to do is okay with me. The one thing that will not be okay is if you shut me out. Let's make sure we understand each other on that point.”

She sat up and inched over to the edge of the bed. “I will never shut you out again. Hey! I have a yen for a hot dog. How about you?”

“Why not? Does that mean you're eating meat again?”

“No. Sometimes I just want certain things.” She pulled her robe off the hook behind the door. “Mike, when she hugged me? It was real. I think it was the best hug I've ever had.”

He bussed her lightly on the cheek. “God, I almost forgot, how'd the closing go?” Mike asked, referring to the sale of her practice.

“They canceled. It's tomorrow at three o'clock. I feel sad about it,” Jane said, tying the belt of her robe. “So many chapters of my life have come to a close lately. Pretty soon I won't have anything to worry about.” She looked him straight in the eyes. “I want to get pregnant right away,” she blurted.

Mike's eyebrows shot upward. “You do! That's great! God, I can't wait to be a father. I bet you turn out to be the best mother in the world.”

“That's probably the nicest thing you've ever said to me,” Jane said, linking her arm with his. “You do the chopped onions, sauerkraut, and I have some canned chili. I'll do the dogs and buns.”

“If we eat all that, we won't be able to sleep.”

“I know,” Jane drawled. She offered up a wicked grin. Mike chased her all the way to the kitchen.

Jane stood patiently in the doorway of Tramway's Furniture Store waiting for the owner to park his car and open the store. It was two minutes to nine.

Inside, she was like a whirlwind as she walked up and down the aisles, saying, “This one, this one, and that one.” At five minutes past ten she walked out of the store. The furniture of her choice, taken right off the showroom floor, would arrive at her parents' house by twelve-thirty.

She was feeling especially good as she walked down the street to Rich's Department Store. Once inside, she headed straight for the cosmetic counter, where she bought two of everything from just about every brand the store offered, including six different bottles of perfume. When she left the cosmetic counter, she headed for the designer racks, where she rifled through the clothes, picking things she knew her mother would have approved of if she were alive. From there it was off to the lingerie department, and again, she picked up two of everything, the frillier, the lacier the better. With twenty minutes to spare, she literally ran to the shoe and handbag department and told the clerk, “Those, this, these and that. Follow me with the packages to my car.”

She would have made Trixie proud the way she drove to the houseâlike a demon on wheels. No sooner had she pulled into the driveway than the Tramway delivery truck rounded the opposite corner. She was Trixie personified, pointing and shouting, “Put that over there, this goes over here and I want that in the corner.” The moment the truck pulled away, Jane made one trip after another from the car to the house where she dumped all her purchases in the middle of the living-room floor. The moment she finished, she left to go to the drapery shop and nursery. Money talks, Trixie always said. It not only talked, it shouted, Jane thought as she wrote out check after check. By the time she'd finished, she'd made arrangements for the drapery people to come out and take measurements and the nursery people to plant all the flower beds around the house.

She raced home, changed her clothes, applied makeup, and tore down the road to the lawyer's office, where she signed her name in a half dozen different places, grabbed the check, and ran from the office without even looking at it. It was ten minutes past four when she again let herself into the house she'd lived in as a little girl.

“Okay, so I'm stupid. I might even be crazy, or maybe I have some kind of shopping disease,” she muttered as she set about emptying the bags and boxes. At five-thirty, with the last box and bag carried out to a battered trash can the previous owners had left behind, Jane collapsed. “Shit!” She'd forgotten the dishes. She got back in the car and drove to Wholesale Appliance & Kitchen Wares, where she bought dishes, pots, pans, silverware. By six-thirty everything was washed and put away.

At ten minutes to seven she walked into her own house, to see Mike sitting at the kitchen table.

“How'd it go?” he asked.

“Mike, it was the most exhilarating day I've ever had. I didn't stop for two minutes. Believe it or not, this is the first chance I've had to sit down. I can't begin to tell you what a satisfying day it was. I don't know, maybe it was
electrifying.
Whatever, it was damn wonderful.”

“Jeez, I thought selling your practice would be a downer.”

“Selling my practice! Oh that! Yeah, it went off without a hitch. That's not what I'm talking about.”

“Then what?”

Jane told him what she'd accomplished. “Dammit, I forgot the sheets and blankets.” She sighed. “Oh, well, I can do that tomorrow. Why are you looking at me like that? Do you think I'm nuts?”

“Do you really think your mother . . .”

“No, no, no. I just want the stuff there so she can see it. I burned all her other stuff. It was only right I should replace it. It's more like if you and I ever have a fight, and don't say we won't because we will, or when the kids get too much for us, we can go there to cool off. Look at it as a separate residence. I am truly at peace with it all now. It is such a wonderful, contented feeling. I know there must be better words to describe it, but I don't know them. Right now I have to believe she's real. I know as time goes on that feeling will fade, at which time I'll be able to send her to the other side, if she wants to go. Let's not talk about this again, okay?”

“Okay. C'mere.”

Jane sat down on his lap. “I love you, Mike Sorenson.”

“I love you more, Jane Lewis. God, Jane, did you hear the news today? I knew there was something I wanted to tell you. They indicted those two guys who attacked Betty Vance. It was the craziest thing. They were in the clear because the drugstore video just showed them talking to Betty in the aisle, but one of them owed money to some other jerk, and he rolled over on both of them. Said they bragged about it and bragged about scaring her in the drugstore. It was all over the news today.”

“My cup runneth over,” Jane said. “The only thing left to think about or worry about is you. You know what? I wouldn't have it any other way. You spending the night, or just taking up space in my kitchen?”

“I thought I'd stay. I'm in the mood for a long, lazy shower. How about you?”

“That, Mr. Sorenson, is the best offer I've had all day.”

The small backyard garden was secluded and literally soundproof with an eight-foot privet covering the ugly, wooden fence. It was picture-perfect for the intimate wedding of Jane Lewis and Michael Sorenson. Aside from the minister, the bride, and the groom, the only guests were immediate family.

It was an ideal day for a wedding, sunny and warm, but not so warm as to wilt the rainbow flower borders. Brilliant Shasta daisies, beds of impatiens, and greenhouse irises lined one entire side of the yard. Opposite them, periwinkle petunias, geraniums, and larkspur grew in such density they brought to mind a Marty Bell painting. The center of the fence, a perfect backdrop for the white wicker arch, was alive with blooming crepe myrtle, long-legged poppies, and sunflowers. Emerald green ivy, Queen Anne's Lace and white-satin ribbons covered the arch, all compliments of Brian Ramsey's greenhouse. A white satin runner ran from the back porch steps to the arch, completing the outdoor wedding decorations.

Through the bedroom window, Jane watched Father John test the spiky grass with the toe of his shoe. It was sod, the joint seams still visible. He looked around, his face a study of bewilderment. Jane smiled. She just knew the cleric was thinking this was the strangest wedding he had ever presided over. Trixie had called him and asked that he perform the ceremony here in the garden first, then, an hour later, in the church. He hadn't asked any questions, evidently assuming that the garden ceremony was sentimental. “At least you aren't getting married in one of those drive-through chapels in Las Vegas like some of my parishioners,” he'd said earlier. She'd giggled at the remark even though he'd been serious.

She continued to watch the priest as he looked down at his wrist to check the time. Was he nervous? What was he thinking? Jane's own gaze went to the small travel clock she'd brought with her and placed on the dresser. Ten minutes and counting. She'd been here over an hour and there was still no sign of her mother. Had she imagined seeing and talking to her or was she staying out of the way due to shyness? Jane laughed. Her mother had
never
had a shy moment in her entire life.

Trixie adjusted Jane's veil. “Honey, I've never seen you look more beautiful. I cannot tell you how happy Fred and I are for you. “Is
she
here, Janie? We only have ten minutes until it's time for the ceremony. Fred, Mike, and his parents are in the kitchen. Maybe you should, you know, whistle or whatever it is you do to get her to appear. I don't feel anything. Shouldn't there be a breeze or something?” Trixie's gaze darted around the room.

“No, she's not here. I called her several times. I don't understand . . . unless . . . she never was here and it was all just my imagination. I'm starting to worry, Trixie. This whole garden wedding was . . . is . . . you know, for
her.
By the way, Trixie, thanks for not saying anything about the furnishings. I guess you think it's all pretty silly. Maybe
stupid
is a better word. But it was something I needed to do.”

“Don't go putting words into my mouth, Janie. I don't think furnishing this place was the least bit silly. I think . . . I think what you've done is wonderful. It shows you've grown as a person and as a woman.”

“You always know the right thing to say, Trixie. That's just one of the reasons I love you so much.” Jane kissed her on her rouged cheek. “Damn, where is she? Wait here for me while I freshen my lipstick. Back in a minute.”

Trixie sat down on the edge of her bed. She closed her eyes and tried to picture Jane's mother. “Margaret Lewis, you better show me your beauty-queen ass on the double, or you'll be sorry. That girl has gone to a lot of trouble so you could be at her wedding, and we both know you don't deserve it.” Trixie looked from one side of the room to the other. “I never made any bones about hating your guts when you were alive. But I think I hate you more now because of the insidious way you've intruded into Jane's life. We only have a few minutes. If you don't show yourself, Janie will never come back here. You need to know that, Margaret.”

“Trixie, Trixie, you haven't changed at all. I'm here and I have every intention of attending my daughter's wedding. And by the way, I never liked you either. Especially after you stole Janie away from me. I'll never forgive you for that.”

“Don't go down that road, Margaret. You threw that child away. Fred and I thank God every day of our lives that we were there to catch her. Oh, and in case you weren't listening, no one cried at your funeral,” Trixie said, unable to help herself. “Jane wanted to, but she didn't. She'd already used up all her tears. And afterward, she burned all your things. It was terribly sad. I just want to know why you aren't burning in hell for what you did to her!”

“This
is
my hell, Trixie. Cut me a little slack, will you? I'm trying my best to make amends. I can't do it overnight, but I think I can do it eventually, if everyone cooperates. Maybe I can even make amends with you. I really didn't mean what I said to you. You just have a way of getting under my skin.”

Trixie laughed. “I'm no hypocrite, Margaret. I meant every damn word I said, and a few I didn't say.” Trixie shook her head to clear her thoughts. She must be getting old. She was nodding off in the middle of the day.

Jane was blotting her lipstick when she saw her mother's reflection in the mirror.

“You look beautiful, Jane, more beautiful than I ever looked. I think it's because you're beautiful on the inside as well as the outside. I never was, so I'm able to recognize it in you.”

“Mom,” Jane said, breathing a sigh of relief. “I was beginning to wonder if you were going to come.”

Margaret smiled.
“I know you still have your doubts about me, but believe me when I tell you I wouldn't have missed your wedding day for anything.”
She leaned forward and kissed Jane's cheek.
“Thank you for making it possible for me to be with you today. I can't begin to tell you how much it means to me.”

Jane smiled. Now her day was perfect. She touched her cheek with the tip of her finger. Her skin felt warm to the touch. She was all smiles when she poked her head into the bedroom. “She's here, so we can get started.”

“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Mike lifted Jane's veil and smiled. “This is the second time I get to kiss the bride in one day. Pucker up.”

Jane giggled. It was a kiss that promised a lifetime of sweet tomorrows.

The church organist struck the opening chords to “Here Comes the Bride.” Dr. and Mrs. Michael Sorenson started down the aisle, their faces wreathed in smiles.

Outside in the warm sunshine, the bride and groom giggled and laughed as the guests blew bubbles and let loose one hundred monarch butterflies from their triangular envelopes.

“Are you as happy as you look, kiddo?” Trixie whispered.

“Trixie, there are no words to tell you how happy I am. I had two weddings today and got married twice to the same wonderful man. I feel like I have it all and then some. It's all because of you and Fred. I wouldn't be who I am today if it weren't for you two. I'm sorry if I don't tell you often enough how much I love you. I promise to do better in the future.” She hugged Trixie, then Fred. “I didn't expect so many people to come to the church. I think most of them are Mike's colleagues.”

“Janie, I think I saw . . .”

Jane placed a finger against Trixie's lips. “Shhh, I know. Mom told me. She also told me to tell you that green is not your color. She likes you better in that leopard outfit.” Jane grinned.

Trixie's eyes almost popped from their sockets. “Freddddd!”

“They're leaving, they're leaving!” Trixie shouted to the assembled guests. “She's going to throw the bouquet. All the girls over here,” she said, pointing to a circle in the courtyard. Jane obediently turned around and tossed her bridal bouquet of lilies of the valley into the air.

Sharon Thomas squealed her pleasure as she held up the beribboned bouquet. Jane laughed as she walked toward her old colleague. Tom Bradley, Sharon's escort, grinned from ear to ear.

“Guess you're next, Sharon.” Jane leaned closer, and whispered, “I like your new nose. The eye job ain't bad either. Do I see a chin tuck?”

“Yes, to all of the above. Tom didn't even notice. Listen, Jane . . .”

“I was wrong, but so were you,” Jane stopped her. “Let's leave it at that. Invite us to your wedding and we'll call it square.” She turned to walk away.

“Jane!” Sharon called, stopping her.

“What?”

Sharon smiled. “You make a beautiful bride. Be happy, okay?”

“I will, Sharon. You, too.” Jane smiled back.

“Come on, Mrs. Sorenson,” Mike said, waving Jane over to the car. “We don't want to miss our flight. Just think about it, thirty whole days in sunny Hawaii!” Mike held the door open for his new wife. He leaned over and whispered, “Let's make a baby right away.”

Jane threw her arms around his neck. “Oh, Mike. Are you sure?”

“I'm sure. I want a bunch of little Janes running around our house.”

“What if we end up with a bunch of little Mikes instead?”

“We'll take them. God, I love you, Jane,” he said, looking longingly into her eyes.

“I love you more.” She tweaked his nose. “We aren't going to fight over this are we?”

“Nope. Did you bring that floppsy-doodle hat?”

“First thing I packed,” Jane giggled. Funny how he loved that hat.

Mike leaned on the horn as he headed out to the main road, the guests clapping and whistling until the car was out of sight.

Thirty minutes later, the caterers arrived just as the last guest drove off. While they worked at cleaning up the party remains, Trixie sat down on the porch steps next to Fred. “It was such a nice wedding and reception. Those kids have some nice friends. Even Janie's archrival was nice. I want to ask you something, Fred. I'm an old woman, creeping up on eighty. How is it possible that my heart and mind feel like they're only twenty years old? My memories are so wonderful. When the music was playing, I was young again. When I watched all the young people dance, I was dancing in my mind. My feelings for you haven't changed one bit. I don't understand it, Fred. I'm old. You're old. We look old. Sometimes we act old. More often than not, we feel old. At least I do when I look in the mirror. Lately, I don't look anymore. I need an answer, Fred.”

Fred put his arm around his wife. “I guess you feel young because you think young.” He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. “And because we're still in love. Love keeps people young, Trixie. And ours is the truest kind of love. We never faltered. We stayed the course. You respected me, and I respected you. Our memories are golden. If you want something better, you're going to have to get a book on the subject or better yet, write a book.” He kissed her lightly on the mouth. “I think we should go upstairs and get our dogs. They've been cooped up long enough.”

“All you have to do is whistle, Fred. Flash knows how to open the door.” Fred whistled and the dogs came on the run, the magnificent Malinois and the yellow Lab. Olive lingered behind, then crept closer to Trixie. Trixie moved so there was room on the step for all of them. She leaned her head against Flash, who nuzzled her neck while Golda did the same with Fred. Olive wiggled onto her lap. “We have a nice little family here, don't we, Fred?”

“Trixie, my love, it doesn't get any better than this.”

“Woof.”

BOOK: Plain Jane

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