My Lucky Stars (18 page)

Jane attempted to kick her. “You’re gonna give me a complex. When did you get so mean?”

“Corporate real estate in LA does that to you.”

“Is that why you left? Was it brutal?”

“It was pretty bad, but that’s not why I left. I just—just wanted a change of scenery, I guess.”

Jane’s eyebrows rose speculatively. “Did that change have anything to do with a man?”

Yeah, but not like you’re thinking.
“I didn’t leave anyone, if that’s what you’re hinting at. I haven’t lived with anyone the entire time I’ve been there.”
Except for that two-week stint with Mario—what a disaster.
Tara grimaced, trying to push the painful memory to the back of her mind.

Mario was the first guy she’d dated in LA. She’d met him at the pool of their apartment complex her first week there. He’d shown her around, taken her to all the ritzy clubs, sent her flowers and jewelry regularly . . . swept her off her feet and swept every last cent out of her bank account by the time she’d discovered the fraud he was, less than a month into their relationship. After that she’d been careful, picky—wise, even. But eventually the sting of his betrayal had faded and the persistent loneliness that was her only companion had compelled her to start dating again. And she’d followed the same pattern as always . . . one miserable man after the other.

Long ago she’d decided there must be some magnetism in her that attracted the less-than-desirable, a stamp on her forehead that advertised,
Looking for a loser—someone who will use or abuse, take advantage of and stomp all over what’s left of my fragile heart.

She’d dated dozens of guys just like that. Every single one of them, in fact.

Except Ben, and that wasn’t exactly dating.
Tara sighed aloud. She didn’t want to think about or talk about her life. It was too depressing.

“I didn’t come back up here for anyone, either. I’m not dating Zack again. Yes, I still love painting, though I haven’t done any in a long time. No, LA wasn’t what I thought it would be. There. All caught up now?” She stood again. A movie was starting to look real good.

“Hardly.” Jane pulled the oversized cushions off the back of the sofa and did her best to scoot in then beckoned for Tara to come and sit beside her. “You
used
to want to talk all the time.”

“That was before you were married and got all fat on me.”
Everything is weird now. Different. I hate it.

“Ah, Tara, I’ve missed you. Nobody could ever make me feel quite so bad about my out-of-control hair.” Jane ran her fingers through her ever-present natural curls. “And now you’ve got even more things to insult me about. I’m not sure I’d make it through the rest of this pregnancy without you.” She held out her arms, and Tara reluctantly came over, bending down for an awkward hug.

“Now stay,” Jane ordered, patting the empty spot beside her again.

“Oh, fine.” Tara sat—or tried to—but it was a precarious perch. Jane took up more space than she realized.

“I’m the same person I used to be,” Jane said. “And I’d really love to hear what’s going on in your life. I’ll even throw in a box of tissue for free.”

“We’re probably going to need it,” Tara said after a minute.
If I get started . . .
Still, she hesitated. “This feels so weird. Maybe if we had orange rolls from the bakery?”

Jane shook her head. “They’re closed. Besides, I’m already too fat, remember?”

Tara giggled. “You are.”
I am never having children. Never. Never. Never.

“Glad my weight gain is providing amusement. Now what gives? You can’t just show up on my doorstep after years of being gone and not tell me why.”

“Well, you see . . .” Tara took a deep breath then launched into her story. “I met this guy.”

“And?” Jane prodded.

“And that was it,” Tara said. “I met him at the airport in Salt Lake, and we spent a couple of days together pretty much hating each other’s guts. Then I started to see some things I liked about him. Then he kissed me—totally messed with my mind—and I left. The end.”

“What were you doing in Salt Lake?” Jane asked.

Tara threw her hands up in exasperation. “I tell you this whole thing about a guy, and you want to know about the geography?”

“Sorry.” Jane smiled sheepishly. “I was just curious. I never imagined you in Utah, that’s all.”

“I never imagined me in Utah either,” Tara said and proceeded to tell Jane her nightmare-flight-and-getting-stranded story. Jane listened attentively, gasping and oohing in all the right places, so that by the time Tara reached the end of her tale, she felt things were a little like the old days.

“Ben sounds terrible,” Jane said. “Though Ellen sounds like a really nice person.”

“She is,” Tara said. “And her husband turned out to be nice too.”

“So did you ever find out what the deal is between him and Ben?”

Tara nodded. “Of course I did. You know that when Tara wants to know something—”

“Tara finds out,” Jane finished. “I remember. Boy, do I remember. There was the day you stole my plant with the note in it from Paul, and the time—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tara said. “Do you want the rest of this story or not?”

“Definitely.”

“So I asked Ellen on the last part of our drive, and she told me all about Ben and Dallin being best friends from the time they were about ten until they went on their missions. Ben came home a few months before Dallin, and he started dating Dallin’s younger sister, McKenzie—also Ellen’s friend.”

“I follow,” Jane said.

“By the time Dallin got home, Ben and McKenzie were engaged. Dallin and Ellen started dating too. Everything was great. That’s when Ben’s birth mother showed up.”

“He’s adopted?” Jane asked.

Tara nodded. “They all are. Ben and each of his fourteen brothers and sisters. I forgot to mention that part.” Tara hurried on. “Anyway, Ben’s mom had big problems. Alcoholism, schizophrenia—some very
serious
stuff. And she expected Ben to take care of her.”

“Did he?” Jane asked.

“He tried,” Tara said. “He got her some help, paid for her therapy, drove her places. Things like that. It was hard, and it took its toll on him and on his engagement. By then Dallin and Ellen were engaged too. Ben and McKenzie decided to postpone their wedding and get married at Christmastime with Dallin and Ellen. But then Ben got sick.”

“What kind of sick?” Jane asked, worry in her expression. Tara was glad to see it there. She was afraid she’d painted Ben in too harsh a light, and she wanted Jane to like him, wanted her to understand what a good person he really was.

“He started having some . . . mental problems. Breakdowns, panic attacks. Behavior similar to his mom’s. Suddenly it was his adoptive parents taking
him
to counseling.”

“Is he better now?” Jane asked.

“He’s been better for a long time. Ellen said the doctors thought it was his interaction with his birth mother that triggered his anxiety. She’d been very abusive—the reason Ben was removed from the home and placed in foster care—and being around her again brought back a lot of repressed stuff, or something like that.”

“Very plausible,” Jane said.

“Yeah.” Tara turned to her. “You’d know, wouldn’t you, Mrs. Bachelor’s Degree in Psychology.”

“Bachelor’s nothing.” Jane angled her head toward a frame on the far wall. “I’ve got my master’s now. Check out my diploma.”

“You did it? You went back and finished?” Tara jumped up and went over to the wall, reading Jane’s diploma. “I’m glad one of us has been doing something productive—no pun intended—” She stared pointedly at Jane’s stomach “—all this time.”

“I’m sure you have too,” Jane said.

Tara pursed her lips together and brought a finger to her chin as if considering. “Nope. Not really.”

“Let me decide. Come finish your story.”

Tara sat down again, this time in the chair so Jane could have the whole couch. “So Ben had these repressed memory, psychotic incidents. But he got counseling, his parents got rid of his mom—not literally,” she clarified. “But they sent her somewhere else and told her she had to stay out of his life. Everything was better, but McKenzie had cold feet. Dallin advised her
not
to marry Ben, because he was afraid Ben would be an unstable husband and have recurring mental problems and tendencies toward alcoholism like his mother. So the week before the wedding, she called it off.”

“Wow.” Jane leaned back against the couch cushion. “Poor guy.”

“I
know
,” Tara said. “When Ellen first told me the story, I thought I’d probably have to punch Dallin when I met him.”

“Why?” Jane asked. “Wasn’t Ben rude to you all weekend? Why care so much about his problems?”

“Because he cared about mine.”

“I don’t see how,” Jane said. “At the airport he may have offered you money for a hotel, but beyond that what did he do except insult you? Wasn’t it Ellen’s idea for you to come to her home and then with them to Denver?”

“Ye-es,” Tara said. “But Ben went along with it, even though he didn’t want to. He helped me off the elevator when I was sick. He bought me dinner, opened doors for me, took me shopping—though his idea of shopping was very different from mine—shared his spoon and his ice cream. He even walked with me out in the cold when I’d waited too long for a bathroom break.”

“And then he kissed you,” Jane finished.

“There was that,” Tara said quietly. “But it was more than just his kiss—great as it was—that made me want to stick up for him. Ben is a completely decent guy, this wholesome farmer type, and he didn’t deserve what he got. It wasn’t fair.”

“Life is seldom fair,” Jane observed.

“Don’t I know it.” Tara attempted to laugh, but a funny, choking sound came out instead. “But in spite of what life had dished out to Ben, he was still a nice guy. And all those times we fought, when he called me on the carpet for my behavior, I deserved it. I
wasn’t
nice.”

“Hmm.” Jane placed her hands on her stomach and stared up at the ceiling. “That’s quite the admission. Most people wouldn’t be able to see themselves in that light.” She sounded impressed.

Tara shrugged but didn’t say anything. It had taken being around Ben and Ellen and then the contrast of being back in the boardroom at work for her to see how awful she’d behaved. And just because she did see it didn’t make it any less painful. Nor did she quite know what to do about it.
I am who I am, and Ben is who he is, and life goes on.

“So maybe you wanted to punch Dallin as a way to make up for being less than nice to Ben on the trip.” Jane was twiddling her fingers, and Tara could tell she was entering serious therapist mode.

“I wanted to punch him because Ben didn’t deserve such a crummy best friend, but I didn’t because I could see right away—from the way Dallin treated his wife and kids, and Ben, and even me—that he’s a nice guy too. Ellen says he has a lot of regrets about what he said to his sister. Ben moved far away and lives all alone, and McKenzie ended up marrying someone else and is going through this awful divorce.”

Jane sighed. “I hate sad endings.”

“Me too.” Tara snorted. “It’s the story of my life.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” Jane lifted her head, looking at Tara. “If you liked Ben, why did you leave so abruptly? Why not keep in touch?”

“Because,” Tara said miserably. “I knew we were too different. He was too much like . . . you. And I was too much like . . . me.”

The room was quiet after Tara made this observation. She waited, wanting Jane to chime in with some other positive, false comment about how things could work out and everyone could live happily ever after. But Jane had always been an honest friend too.

After several minutes had passed, she finally spoke. “And you aren’t particularly happy with
you
.”

She’s still got it
, Tara thought.
Uncanny how she’s always seemed to be able to read my soul. Wonder if she’s going to charge me now that she has her master’s?

“No,” Tara said, looking at the carpet. “I’m not happy at all.”

“Ben isn’t the real issue here,” Jane said. “What’s bothering you is your dissatisfaction with your own life—with yourself.”

Ouch.
“If I say you’re right, then what do I do?” Tara asked.

A slow smile blossomed on Jane’s face. “
If
you agree that I’m right, and
if
you really and truly want to change . . .”

“Maybe.” Tara leaned forward slightly.

“Then you take a deep breath, roll up your sleeves, get ready to work, and trust me. You’ve come to the right place.”

Twenty-Two

“Tara, you promised.” Jane’s voice held a slight reprimand as she looked down at the bed and Tara’s toes poking out beneath Maddie’s My Little Pony blanket. Jane nudged the mattress with her knee and put her hands on what used to be her hips. “Could you
please
get up now?”

It’s 10:15, after all.
Jane vaguely wondered just how long Tara
would
sleep if no one bothered her. “It’s important for the girls to go to church each week, and I can’t take them.”

“Jessica already said she would.” Tara’s reply was muffled beneath the pillow she’d pulled over her head.

“And what happens next Sunday when Jessica is gone?” Jane asked. “She flies home tonight, and then you’re on your own. If you go with her today, then you’ll know how to get to the chapel, where Maddie’s Primary classroom is, the schedule . . .” She leaned forward, tugging on the blanket. “Oooh—ow.” She straightened, eyes closed, as she brought a hand to her stomach.

Tara threw back the covers and bounded out of bed. Wild-eyed, she stared at Jane. “What? Are you okay? Are you having those kids now?”

“No.” Jane turned away but not before noticing Tara’s outlandish and immodest sleeping attire—hot pink-and-black-striped booty shorts trimmed with black fur, a matching chemise, and a sleeping mask that was tangled in a knot of her hair.

Where does she find this stuff? Doesn’t that furry trim
itch
?
Jane shook her head as she waddled toward the door. “It was just a kick, but I’d better go lie down. Jessica is helping Maddie wash her hair, and then I’m sure she’d love some help dressing the girls.”