Plain Jayne (20 page)

“I didn't know what you had,” he said, coming up behind me.

“A little more than stale Pop-Tarts and beef jerky.” Although not much more.

“Like I said, I didn't know what you had. And knowing my mom, she'll want to cook.”

I'd give him that. “It's fine. I really appreciate it. Truly.”

Between the two of us, we managed to haul all of it up the stairs in one trip. “Did you leave any food at the store?”

“The day-old sushi. I turned that down.”

“Right.” I set the bags on the kitchen counter and began loading appropriate items into the fridge.

“I'll finish this,” he said, stacking boxes and cans. “You go to bed.”

“Bed's over there,” I said, pointing at the couch not ten feet from the kitchen. “I have trouble sleeping when someone's rummaging in my kitchen.”

“Doesn't look like you've gotten yourself any blankets. I'm okay here. Go take care of yourself.”

I was too tired to argue. I grabbed my college-era comforter from my closet as well as an extra pillow.

Sara and Martha were already fast asleep in my room, two in the morning being far past their bedtimes. I snuck in quietly and found what I hoped were matching pajamas.

As soon as I was in the bathroom, I discovered I had a cupcake-print top with Harley-Davidson logo bottoms.

Oh, well. I washed my face and brushed my teeth, and then I looked at myself in the mirror. Circles were already under my eyes, yet I was still completely keyed up. I found some sleeping pills—I would need them if I was going to be able to sleep with Levi around.

I made up my makeshift bed while he puttered in the kitchen, finding homes for baking items I'd never used and likely never would.

“Almost done,” he said, wadding up empty plastic sacks.

“Not a problem.”

“Does it feel good to be home?”

“Mmm.” I climbed into my couch bed and snuggled against my pillow. The sleeping pill was kicking in.

“Thanks again for letting me stay.”

“You bet.”

And with that, I fell asleep.

I
blinked a few times, confused. Where was I?

Couch. Home. Gideon. Surgery…the last 24 hours filed into my memory like little marching soldiers.

I heard the clink of metal in the kitchen. Was Levi still putting groceries away? How long did it take?

My eyes opened a bit wider, wide enough to read the time on the wall clock. Half-past eight. I hadn't slept this late in more than a week.

I sat up and peered into the kitchen.

Martha, not Levi, stood in the kitchen. A collection of apple peels sat in a pile to her left; her forearms flexed as she rolled out what had to be dough.

Curious, because I didn't think I owned a rolling pin.

I swung my legs to the floor. “Good morning,” I said.

Martha nodded. “Morning.”

“What are you making?”

“Apple dumplings, hash browns, and sausage. For breakfast.”

As I came closer, I saw that she was using two aluminum cans duct-taped together as a rolling pin. “I'm sorry. My kitchen isn't very well equipped.”

“Most English kitchens aren't.”

“Well, my friend Gemma has about every kitchen tool known to man…” She'd probably be willing to loan some of them out, at least for a few days.

“Have you heard anything from the hospital?”

“My phone hasn't rung. They said they'd call when he's out of surgery.”

Martha nodded. I watched her. Her movements were jerky, her muscles taut. Dark circles had taken up residence beneath her eyes. In a moment, I understood. Making breakfast—a breakfast for nine that would be eaten by four—was her coping method.

And far be it for me to get in her way.

I heard a rustling from the direction of the study. I turned in time to see the door open and Levi emerge, face stubbled and hair mussed.

He gave a crooked smile. “Mornin'.”

“Hey.”

I was suddenly very aware that my pajamas didn't match.

Martha turned. “Levi.”

“How'd you sleep, Mom?”

“Well enough.”

“Is Sara still sleeping?”

“She is.”

Levi turned back to me. “Mind if I use your shower?”

“Go right ahead,” I said, even as I considered my towel situation.

“I brought my own towel.”

“I wasn't worried,” I lied. I could only hope I had two other clean towels for Martha and Sara. Even if I tried to run a quick load of laundry, my dryer took a good two hours to finish drying even a single towel.

Everyone froze when my phone rang. I dove for it, nearly tripping on my shag carpet. “Hello?” I was embarrassed to hear my voice shake as I answered.

The nurse on the other end of the line asked for Martha. I passed the phone over.

Martha held the cell phone awkwardly in her hand, but the awkwardness faded as she paid complete attention to the words coming from the tiny speaker.

“I will be right there,” she said, before ending the call.

Or trying to end the call. Levi reached over and helped her close the phone.

“He is just out of surgery,” she said, reaching for her apron strings and untying them. “He is well, the surgery went well. He is not awake, but we can see him.” She looked from me to Levi. “We can see him!”

Clearly, breakfast was forgotten.

I looked at Levi, hoping he wouldn't miss the fact that I was unwashed, clad in mismatched pajamas, and not ready to be taken seriously by hospital staff.

“I'll shower really quick, Mom, and drive you down.”

“And Sara?”

“Sara's not awake yet.”

“She needs to be woken.”

“Even then, she'll need to get dressed and put together. Jayne can drive her down.”

“Yes,” I chimed in. “I'll drive her down shortly.”

“Okay.” Martha brushed the flour from her hands and walked back down the hall.

“Cereal?” Levi said.

“Cereal,” I agreed.

Levi showered while Martha woke Sara up, and then he took his mother to the hospital. I showered and dressed in clothes that matched.

“Is that what you're wearing?” Sara asked when she saw me.

“Yes,” I said warily, suddenly understanding what it would be like to have a teenager in the house.

“But it's so…”

I raised my eyebrows.

“…dark.”

“You're wearing a blue dress and a black apron.”

“Because I
have
to. You can wear anything you want, and you're wearing a black sweater with jeans?”

“Gemma helped me pick out this sweater. It's one of the most stylish things I own.”

Oops. Shouldn't have said that. Sara's eyes narrowed. “But…you're English.”

“Yeah, well, just because someone's English doesn't mean they dress like they do in magazines.”

“But you live in Portland.”

“The Portland uniform is jeans, a sweatshirt, and Chacos.”

“What are Chacos?”

“They're sandals…and beside the point. We need to meet up with your mom and Levi.”

Sara looked down. “I'm sorry.”

“I know you're excited about being in the city, but your dad's not out of the woods yet.”

“People have bypasses all the time, right?”

“Yes, but it's still major surgery.”

“Do you think he'll be okay?”

“If the doctors say the surgery went well, that's a very good sign.”

“Okay.” She cast one more look toward me. “You don't even have a printed scarf you could wear with that?”

I put my arm around her shoulders. “If your dad's fine and we have time at some point, I'll take you to Gemma's closet. The two of you will be very happy together.”

I was afraid Sara would fall out of the car, her nosed pressed so hard to the glass as we drove up Terwilliger to get to the hospital.

“Do you want to stop by the gift shop on the way up?” I asked her. “We could pick up some flowers or a card or something.”

Sara shook her head. “Flowers? He wouldn't know what to do with them.”

Okay, then. “When we get inside,” I said, deciding to broach the subject, “you need to tell the receptionist who you are.”

Sara frowned. “I have to talk to them?”

“Yes, you do. Tell them you're Gideon's daughter and ask to see him.”

“Can't you ask?”

“I'm not a relative.”

“Oh.”

“Technically, I should wait in the sitting area for you.”

“I'm not going alone!”

“I didn't think so. That's why you have to talk.”

Sara sulked for a little while, but when we reached the desk, she gave a concise speech to the receptionist that included the importance of my presence.

The receptionist nodded and directed us to Gideon's room. Our feet quickened when we saw Levi waiting outside.

“Is Martha inside?” I asked, pulling off my jacket.

He nodded. “Sorry,” he said in a whisper. “I'm trying to keep a low profile.”

I pressed my lips shut and followed Sara into the room.

Martha sat beside the bed, holding Gideon's hand. His eyes opened wider when he saw me.

“Ah,” he said. “Jayne's here.”

Martha patted his hand. “She's been very kind, letting us stay with her.”

“Sit down, Jayne,” he said, gesturing to the chair on the other side of the bed.

I sat.

“The doctors tell me that if I had gotten to the hospital just a little later, my heart would have died. But it was not God's will that I die yet. He sent you to call the ambulance. Thank you.”

I nodded, a stab of guilt piercing my heart. He might have had even more time, had I not been eating ice cream and kissing his son. “I'm glad you're feeling better.”

Gideon rolled his eyes. “I don't know that I'm feeling better. I'm full of needles. But at least I can breathe, right?”

“We're glad you can breathe,” Martha echoed.

I checked her grip on his hand—her knuckles were white. It must have terrified her, seeing her husband so close to death.

I thought of Levi outside the door. “I'm glad you're still here with your family.” I tried to think of something clever I might say about second chances and reconciliation, but everything sounded as though it belonged on an inspirational billboard.

A shadow passed over Gideon's face. Maybe I hadn't needed to say anything after all.

While Sara and Martha kept Gideon company and Levi brooded outside, I excused myself to make a phone call.

The mention of Gemma's closet had made me think of Gemma's other talents. Namely, completing meal preparation without setting the kitchen on fire. At some point, members of the Burkholder clan would have to eat, and I didn't know how they would respond to Chinese takeout or the concept of beef-a-roni.

“Wow,” Gemma said when we connected. “This is the clearest the line has been since you've been gone. I don't know what part of the field you're in, but remember it, will you?”