Mind of Her Own (13 page)

It was a perfect morning for writing. All the kids were at school, Collin was at work, and Cleo lay napping in the morning sun that streamed through the French doors. The only noise to bother her was the thumping of the clothes Collin had tossed in the dryer before he left. There weren’t any distractions, and she planned to work on her new historical romance, but the words refused to come. Her outline lay before her along with the stack of pages she’d completed for the first two chapters, but she needed three before she could send it to . . . to whom? That was the problem. She didn’t really have a publisher or an agent. It was a realization she was uncomfortable with, but her heart told her to keep writing.

Jazz tapped her legal pad with a pencil. Her leg bounced under the table. Unable to concentrate, she pushed out of her chair as if she had someplace to go. She didn’t. But she noticed an empty glass someone had left on the counter. She grabbed it and stuck it in the dishwasher, then opened the fridge door to get a soda, thinking the caffeine might wake up her creative mind. But there was a takeout container from three days ago in the way. That had to go, she thought. She tried to toss it in the trash, but the can was overflowing. So she gathered up the plastic edges, secured them, and headed for the garage door.

Then Jazz noticed Joey’s sweatshirt puddled under its hook on the hallway floor. She bent over and scooped it up in her hand. Something in the pocket crinkled. She set the trash bag on the floor so she could investigate the noise. It was a note addressed to Louisa, asking her to send twenty-four bouncy balls to school tomorrow.

Tomorrow? Where would she get that many bouncy balls by tomorrow? Why hadn’t Joey given her the note earlier?

Jazz stuck the note in her jeans pocket, snagged the trash bag, and walked to the garage. It seemed she had become more of a domestic queen lately.
More like Louisa?
Was she losing herself? Their personalities seemed to be merging.

When she came back in, the phone was ringing. Jazz listened to the audio caller ID. It was Laurie. She didn’t want to answer it since Laurie hadn’t made any attempt to accept the apology Jazz had left on her phone. It had been nothing but silence from the woman next door. The old Jazz would have ignored the call, but the new, evolving Jazz yanked the phone from its cradle. “Hello.”

“Hi, Jazz, it’s Laurie. Can we talk?”

She stood quiet for a moment, considering that this might be an attempt at being friends. She didn’t feel comfortable in destroying a friendship that wasn’t really hers, but Louisa’s. “I’m a little busy, but I can chat for a moment.”

“Good. I’m sorry—I wanted to get that in right away. I would have called you back earlier, but I had to go to my mom’s. She’s been ill.”

Ouch.
The guilt smacked Jazz in the head. Laurie hadn’t been avoiding her after all. So much for the pity party she’d been holding. “Is she okay now?”

“She’s better. She has pneumonia and she’s worn out, so I cleaned the house and restocked her fridge, that sort of thing. Listen, I wanted to tell you this face-to-face, but since you’re in a rush, I’ll just tell you now. I talked to the other moms, and we decided to let you take the next month off.” Laurie’s rapid-fire words bounced through the telephone line.

What was Laurie talking about? Take the month off from what? She had no idea.

“We don’t want you to think we’re still mad about the community service thing. We kind of think it’s funny now. Anyway, we decided that since you aren’t quite yourself yet, it would be better if we took you out of the rotation. Wait, don’t freak! Tim will still be included.”

Rotation? Tim’s included?
She worked that puzzle in her mind.

“I know it’s your day to take the kids after preschool—”

Then it hit her. That’s what she was supposed to do today! Did she want to admit to Laurie that she forgot? She didn’t think so, since there had been enough forgetting in her life already.

“Anyway, Jill is taking the kids today. So are you okay with that? If you’re not, I guess I can call her.” Laurie paused for a quick intake of air.

“I’m fine with it.” Jazz’s words kept pace with the rapid tone Laurie had set. “I do need to find a place to buy bouncy balls, though. Do you know where I can get some? I just found a note that Joey needs them for class tomorrow.”

“The party store will have them. I don’t like those surprise notes. That’s why I check all pockets and backpacks the minute they come home,” Laurie said with a laugh. “There is nothing like finding out you need to send thirty cupcakes the night before a party. Or worse, you need poster board for a project and the kids are already in bed. I feel much better if I’ve checked their bags.”

Another part of mothering Jazz didn’t know about. “Can you give me directions?” She chose to ignore the hidden advice in Laurie’s statement. She could imagine Madison’s face if she tried searching through her backpack.

“Why don’t I take you? We can get lunch and talk if you like, since we are both kid-free this afternoon. I know this great little tea shop. They have the best sandwiches, and they use real plates and cloth napkins.”

Jazz thought about the chapter she wanted to write, but her desire seemed to have waned. “When do you want to leave?”

“Twenty minutes? I just need to get dinner into the Crock-Pot. What are you making for dinner tonight?”

Strike two for motherhood on my part.
She hadn’t considered dinner. It wasn’t even afternoon yet. Feeling inadequate, she said, “I think we’ll order pizza tonight.”

“Pizza, sure, that’s a great emergency dinner. I’m sure you haven’t felt like grocery shopping with all the headaches. So anyway, see you in twenty, or just come over when you’re ready.”

Jazz replaced the phone in its charger. Being a wife and mother was becoming more of her identity. She was losing herself, and she had a feeling it wasn’t for the first time in her life.

* * *

At the tearoom Jazz felt swaddled in girl comfort. The tables were set with floral china and crystal glasses. The centerpieces were teapots filled with roses. She sighed and placed her napkin on the edge of the table. Complete calmness came over her. She had needed an outing like this. She’d missed this kind of interaction with friends.

“Isn’t it heavenly?” Even Laurie seemed to have slowed her thoughts, and her curls weren’t punctuating every word. Her conversation no longer centered on herself, and she now listened for answers after asking Jazz questions.

“The best. I’m glad you brought me here. Have we been here before?” Jazz relaxed back into the tapestry-upholstered chair.

“Yes, Louisa and I used to try and come once a month. You really are different from her, you know.” She placed her silver fork on the empty dessert plate.

“I know. It must be confusing for everyone who knew her.”

“Maybe. It’s not a bad thing. I love Louisa, but I always felt like she was sad about something. She was my best friend, but I never felt like I was hers.” Laurie’s eyes teared.

Jazz reached across the table and patted Laurie’s hand. “That can’t be true. Collin told me you are Louisa’s best friend, and he would know, right?”

Laurie sniffed. “I guess he would. I just wish we could be closer.”

“Why do you think you aren’t?”

“She’s not very open about her past. It seemed like I was always telling her about the things my sister and I did when we were growing up. She never shared back. For instance, she never talked about her mom, Beth. She always changed the subject when I asked her about anything before she married Collin.”

“That’s interesting. I noticed when I looked through the photo albums that there are only a couple pictures of her, or rather me, when I was Madison’s age. I should call Beth and ask her if she has any others.”

Laurie’s eyes widened. “You’re calling her Beth now?”

“It feels weird to call her Mom; she doesn’t feel like a mom to me.”

“Did you write a lot of stories when you were young? I’ve wanted to ask you that since you became Jazz. Wow, this feels like an episode of something Tom would watch on the sci-fi channel.” Laurie laughed.

“It does,” Jazz agreed. “Maybe I should write my life story for an original sci-fi movie.” She considered Laurie’s question a moment. “I did write stories, but I kept them hidden.”

“Why would you do that? If one of my kids wrote stories, I’d be so excited I’d be trying to find a way to get them into a book. Do you remember what your mom did with yours?”

“No, I don’t. I thought my mom and dad died when I was twelve.”

“Again,
odd
. What else can be said? It’s too bad you can’t find the stories you wrote.” She stared intently at Jazz. “But somehow, I do believe you wrote them.”

* * *

Jazz walked down an aisle in the party store that offered the promise of fun times with helium balloons floating overhead. She glanced up at a silver heart-shaped balloon with legs jiggling in the current of the air-conditioning. It caught the light from the fluorescent fixture in the ceiling and sent the glare bouncing back at her. The flash sparked a sharp pain in her head. She rubbed her eyes in an attempt to erase the razor spikes from her brain. She hoped it wouldn’t intensify into a daylong headache. Jazz had been having one of those at least four times a week. The doctor assured her they would dissipate when her memory returned. He’d laughed and said it was Louisa trying to get back. That statement had caused her pain again, causing her to wonder where she would go when Louisa did come back.

“Jazz, are you feeling okay?” Laurie asked with a gentle touch on her shoulder.

“Yeah, just a little pain. Where do you think the bouncy balls are in this place?” she asked.

“I’m not sure. Maybe with the birthday trinkets. I’ll cruise the next aisle while you go down this one. That way we’ll find them faster and get out of here.” Laurie started to walk away.

“Good idea.” Jazz was grateful for Laurie’s company and thankful her friend had forgiven her. She turned to watch Laurie hurrying down the aisle. “Thanks, Laurie, for helping me today.”

“No problem.”

Jazz watched as Laurie rounded the corner before continuing her own search. She walked past sequined tiaras that caused her to wonder if Madison had tiptoed around the house with one perched on her head as a toddler. She knew she wouldn’t ask her. She had noticed the hurt look on Madison’s face last week when she asked something she should have known. Later this evening she would take another one of the numerous scrapbooks Louisa had made into her room. It had been odd looking at the unfolding of a life in which she had no memory of being a part.

She was now resigned to the fact that she was indeed Louisa, but that’s not who she wanted to be. She liked being Jazz. Maybe that was why her old life hadn’t resurfaced. It didn’t matter, though; she’d decided she didn’t want to return to Louisa’s life even if it meant Collin would be hers. She longed for Collin to love her for her—Jazz. She shook her head to disperse the thoughts. She couldn’t allow herself to think that way, not as long as Louisa still lurked between them.

As she turned the corner, her senses were assaulted with the smell of aftershave. She felt the sweat beading on her forehead. Her stomach turned, threatening to heave. Frantic, she looked for a restroom sign. She fled toward it, barely making it before throwing up.

“Jazz!” Laurie tapped her on the shoulder with a bag of bouncy balls dangling from her hand. “I saw you run in here. What’s wrong?”

“Queasy stomach.” Jazz wiped her face with a damp paper towel, then washed out her mouth the best she could. “I think I should go home.”

“Sure,” Laurie said. “I’ll just pay for these balls, then go get the car and pull up front. Just wait here for a few minutes and then come out.”

“Okay.” Jazz felt her legs begin to tremble. She clutched the corner of the wall as Laurie left. Something didn’t feel right. Aside from one of her usual headaches, she had felt fine until she encountered that smell. Her stomach began to roil. “Forget the smell,” she said to her mirror image. “It was nothing. You’ll get over it.” After her short pep talk, she took a deep breath and unconsciously held it as she bolted through the store into Laurie’s waiting van.

“What happened in there?” Laurie shifted the van into drive.

“There was a smell, aftershave or men’s cologne, I think. Anyway, it seems my stomach didn’t care for it.” Jazz laid her head against the cool glass of the passenger window.

“Has that happened before?”

“I don’t remember.” Jazz began to laugh. At Laurie’s surprised expression, she laughed even harder.

“Jazz?”

“I’m sorry.” Jazz tried to be serious. “This is the first lapse of memory that I’m glad about.”

Laurie smiled. Her grin grew wider, and soon she joined Jazz in laughter.

Jazz wandered into the family room. Collin sat at the desk studying some papers—trial, or new client? She wasn’t interested enough to ask. There was a magazine on the coffee table. She grasped it and flipped the pages that showcased homes and more homes, each more extravagant than the last. The glossy photos didn’t pique her interest either, so she let it fall back to the table.

“Collin, we have to talk about the party Madison wants to go to.”
There! That ought to liven up the evening.

“Nothing to talk about. She’s not going to a party with boys until she’s twenty.” He stuck a paper in the shredder.

“I think you should let her go. All her friends are going. It’s more of a class party.”

Collin glared at her. “You think so? Have you called the mom of the party giver? Who’s throwing this party, anyway?”

“Hannah. It’s her birthday, and she’ll be an official teenager.” Jazz wanted to win this battle for Madison. It would cement their relationship. She was sure of it. “I helped her buy a cute outfit at the mall to wear.”

Collin began to protest. “So you told—”

She held up her hand to stop Collin from talking. “I didn’t promise her she could go. I said you had to approve.”

“I don’t approve.”

Pulling out her best “woman moves,” Jazz walked her slinky walk and stopped inches away from Collin. “It’s important for a woman to feel in control of social situations. And the best way to learn how to accomplish that feeling—” she leaned over and stroked his cheek—“is in a safe environment at a young age to learn how to keep from falling into the wrong arms.”

Collin’s breath seemed to quicken at her touch, and his expression held that dangerous let-me-love-you-tonight look. She took a few steps back. “Do you understand what I’m saying? If she doesn’t learn how to interact with boys now, she won’t know how to handle men later when it’s dangerous.”

“Understood.” Collin gave her a head-to-toe look that revved her heart rate like a finely tuned race car.

Jazz blinked and tried to distance herself from what she was feeling because
she
knew how to handle men. Didn’t she? “Good, then I can tell her she can go?”

“After you call Hannah’s mom and find out if they are personally going to be chaperoning this loathsome affair instead of their teenage son.”

“I already called.” She waited, hoping he would tell her she’d done the right thing as a parent. Though he didn’t say anything about her skills, she still decided she must be doing a better job at this mom stuff. “Both parents will be there. Madison will be ecstatic when I tell her she can go.”

“Tell her I said she can go if she doesn’t get into any trouble before then. I’ll be looking for reasons to ground her.” He went back to his papers, muttering, “Think my little girl is going to learn how to be a woman at twelve? I don’t think so.”

“I heard that, Collin, and you can’t stop her from growing up.”

“I can try.” He started sorting through envelopes on the desk.

“Yes, you can try.” She grinned at him and started to walk away when she felt his hand on her arm.

“This one is for you. You’ll have to decide what to do about it.” Collin slid a thick white envelope into her hand.

“It has Louisa’s name on it, not mine.” She tried giving it back.

“No, it is for you. It’s the invitation to your family reunion. It would be a great time for you to collect information about yourself. Might even trigger some memories.”

“I’m not interested in going. I don’t want to be a one-woman family-reunion freak show.” She tossed the envelope onto the desk; it skidded across the pile of papers and landed on the floor.

Collin retrieved it, ripped open the edge of the envelope, and slid out the contents. “They’re having it in Forest Park this year.”

“This year? This is an annual event?” Jazz frowned at the thought of meeting people who knew more about her than she did.

“Unfortunately.” He opened a folded piece of paper from the envelope and gave a loud laugh.

“What are you laughing at?”

“They want you to fill out this questionnaire about what you’ve done this past year. That should be interesting. What will you write? ‘Tried out a new personality’?” He laughed harder.

Collin’s laughter hurt. “Maybe. Or maybe I’ll figure it out before then.” She walked to the bookshelf and began loading her arms with scrapbooks and photo albums like she’d done several times before. She dropped them on the floor and plopped down, resting her back against the couch.

Jazz pulled out the album that looked older than the others—it had an eighties feel to it, with its mauve and blue design. She began flipping through the pages again. This empty past of hers was bothersome. What she’d discovered inside this album hadn’t brought answers, only more questions. Louisa looked about Madison’s age in a few of these photos, but she didn’t smile in many of them. Jazz still couldn’t figure out why. Maybe she had grown bored with the camera, or maybe she had been in an ugly-duckling stage.

In contrast, the albums with photos of Madison and the boys were delightful, each child hamming in front of the camera, trying to outdo the others.

And Louisa? No personality.
Lifeless
even came to mind as she examined the monotone clothing. If Louisa were trying to blend in, she had managed as well as any American soldier in the desert.

* * *

Collin tapped another date on his BlackBerry calendar, then another. Every day seemed to have a court date or a deposition that needed to be done. He would have to find a way to clear his calendar.

Maybe he could turn over the Esmonde deposition on Friday to Robert. He felt sure it would be a simple one and wouldn’t take long. If Robert would do it, then Collin could leave the office early. He’d be able to get home about the time the kids arrived from school. He clicked the New Message icon in his e-mail account and wrote a short note to Robert. Satisfied with his request, he clicked Send.

Within seconds Robert e-mailed back, and the deal was made. They had traded work, leaving Collin free for the entire weekend. Now all he had to do was pick up a few supplies and a tent. His family would be bonding this weekend in the great outdoors at Rend Lake. He’d show Jazz how exciting he could be. This would give them a chance to get to know each other as a family. He could picture it now. A hot, blazing fire; the kids asleep in the tent; and he and Jazz sitting outside in chairs, gazing at stars and getting reacquainted.

Feeling pleased at taking action to pull his family together, he called Jazz, anticipating her response.

“We’re going to sleep in a tent? Outside?” Jazz didn’t say anything else for a moment. He let her digest the information, hoping she’d warm up to the idea. “Outside? Do I like that?”

“I don’t know if you like it, Jazz.” Her confusion amused him.

“Did Louisa?”

“I don’t know. We never went camping. It will be fun. Think marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate, like when you were a kid.”

“That sounds like an interesting combination.” Her voice hesitated. “Am I supposed to know about this kind of food?”

“S’mores. That’s what they’re called. Trust me. I’ve seen you eat, and you’ll like this.”

“The boys will like the idea, but I’m not sure about Madison,” Jazz said.

“She’ll be fine once she gets over the shock that there won’t be any instant messaging for an entire weekend.”

“Maybe we can let her take a friend along?”

“No. I want this weekend to be about the kids and being a family.” Collin paused. He wanted to add,
“and about you falling in love with me again,”
but he didn’t. He knew she still held on to the belief that Louisa would return soon. But he hoped if and when she did return, she would keep Jazz alive. When he looked at her, he saw Louisa’s face, but the smile, warmth, energy, and enthusiasm for life belonged to Jazz.

“Collin? Are you still there?” Jazz interrupted his thoughts.

“Yeah, just thinking about what we might need to take along.”

“A Scrabble board, I hope.”

“Good idea. Can you get the games together? I’ll take care of the equipment. I have a friend who might loan me his camping gear.” He suddenly remembered Jazz’s inability to cook, even in their fifty-thousand-dollar kitchen. “I’ll get the food, too.”

* * *

Collin plopped three pizza boxes onto the table. “Let’s eat,” he yelled. “Pizza’s here.” Tim and Joey were the first to climb into their chairs. Madison took her time to get settled. Jazz brought liter bottles of soda over and set them on the table. Collin couldn’t wait any longer. He had finally come up with a family activity, and he knew the kids were going to love it. “Guess what?”

“You won’t be home next week because you’ll be involved in a trial,” Madison guessed. “That’s nothing new, Dad. You’re gone all the time.” She pulled a slice of cheese pizza from one of the boxes.

“That’s not it.” Collin grinned. This was going to be good. He could almost hear the whoops of joy when he told them. He looked at Jazz and winked to let her know he appreciated her letting him tell the kids.

“What is it, Dad?” Joey stuffed a hunk of pepperoni in his mouth.

“We’re going camping this weekend!” Collin almost shouted the words. He sat back and waited for the information to sink in.

“Camping? Dad, I am not sleeping in a tent!” Madison tossed her napkin onto the table. She shoved her chair back and stood. “You can’t make me go!” She burst into tears and ran upstairs. Just in case he might mistake her tears for joy, she slammed her door hard enough to correct his erroneous thinking.

Joey scowled at him. “Dad, I have soccer practice.”

“Do we have to eat outside with the bugs? I don’t want to eat with bugs.” Tim grabbed another slice of pizza. “I’d better eat a lot now so I don’t have to eat with dirty, disgusting flies.”

Collin was truly surprised at the reaction from his kids. He thought they would be delighted at the prospect of a weekend family camping trip. Maybe not Madison, but the boys should have been eager to camp. Nope, this hadn’t gone the way he had planned at all. Not one happy face beamed at him from across the table. Not even Jazz looked happy, and she was always ready for adventure.

Collin sought cover in his workshop. He looked at the unfinished picture frame on the workbench. He picked up the cordless drill, pressed the on switch, and let it run in the air for a minute before setting it back down. He didn’t feel like working on the frame right now.

Unable to stay away from Louisa’s journals, he lifted the box onto the bench and pulled out a stack of papers that had been stapled at the corner. A title splashed across the first page:
The Model and the Taxi Driver
, by Jazz Sweet. Startled, he wondered how Jazz had found a way into his workshop. Then he realized it was Louisa’s handwriting, and the air thickened in his throat. He had found it! The connection to Louisa—she really had written a book. He sat down to read.

Annette Richmond yanked the door handle of the yellow cab. She tossed her leather backpack onto the floor of the taxi and slid onto the worn cloth seat.

“Twelfth and Oak,” she said to the back of the driver’s head as she slammed the door. Exhausted from hunger, she lay back in the seat. Her stomach growled. She patted it gently as a pregnant woman might to reassure an unsettled child. But no amount of rubbing seemed to calm the stabbing hunger pangs. She made good money, but none of it went for food. She couldn’t afford to eat much, only what would keep her alive and walking down the runway. Some days she came close to spending her money on drugs to curb her appetite. Many of her friends urged her to try some new designer pill. Even Kate, her best friend, had folded, and now she swore she never needed to eat.

“Miss?”

She looked into the rearview mirror, where brown eyes reflected back at her. “What?”

“There isn’t a Twelfth and Oak.” His Southern accent brought her into the world she had given up—no, the world she had fled—twelve months ago.

“You’re right,” she stuttered, her own accent creeping past her lips. “Ah meant Twelfth and Pine.”

Collin adjusted the papers in his hand and leaned against the wall. He continued to read. As he flipped the pages, he realized his wife had a gift. One that she’d kept hidden for a long time. He wanted to run upstairs and tell her how well she wrote; he wanted to tell everyone his wife was Jazz. That Louisa was a figment of the world’s imagination, a star peg trying to fit into a square hole. But he couldn’t let her know about the journals because she didn’t remember them. If he told her he had them and hadn’t shown them to her, well, it was just too complicated. For a little longer he would keep the evidence of her previous life to himself.

Collin looked around his workshop. His getaway-from-the-world place. Jazz needed someplace like this, he thought. And then he had an idea. It would take some time to implement, but it could be done. He sat up straighter, proud that he had thought of something he could do to encourage his wife. He would start today. Collin tossed the stack of papers back into the box and covered it.

He surveyed the room. He would hire someone while they were gone this weekend to clean out his tools and paint the room. That brought the first problem to mind: what to do with his tools? He couldn’t put them in the garage because that would mess up the surprise. And he wanted this to shock his wife to the core. Maybe he could build a workshop next to the garage. He’d wanted to do that for a long time.
Focus, Copeland. This is about Louisa, not you.
For now, to keep this project a surprise, he could rent a storage place. After he gave the room to Jazz, he could put his tools in the garage.

Walking past the MP3 player, he flipped the off switch before closing the door behind him. He was on a mission, one that would bring a smile to Jazz’s face.

* * *

The evenings were getting cooler, and the breeze off the lake chilled Jazz. She zipped her red plaid jacket and plopped down on the deck steps while waiting for Cleo to finish her business so they could go back inside. Her mind was restless. Laurie had tweaked something when she asked about the stories Jazz had written as a child. If she had written stories, wouldn’t Beth—her mother—have brought it up? It seemed logical to Jazz. If Madison had lost her memory and thought she was a writer, at least Jazz could say,
“No, you like to draw things, not write.”
And she could show her all the sketches she’d piled in a box. Why didn’t Beth say it made sense that Jazz thought she was a writer because she’d written stories as a child? She didn’t know but intended to find out.