Plain Jayne (24 page)

Gideon slept through most of the trip back to the Burkholder farm, but for that matter so did Martha. Sara sketched out a quilt pattern on her notebook.

I played Sixpence None the Richer softly over the car stereo; I knew the Amish weren't big music listeners—Sara had explained that recorded music was taboo—but I had to do something to avoid joining the communal nap.

The kids ran out into the driveway despite the downpour, and I understood how Levi felt about driving up to them. I managed to miss their toes but I did catch their hugs after I opened the door and stepped out.

I packed the rest of my things after Gideon was settled inside—my quilt squares, a pair of socks, and the dress Sara made me and insisted I keep.

Martha stepped inside the room just after I finished. She held a quilt in her arms.

“I would like to thank you for all of your help while Gideon was sick, Jayne. I—we—would like you to have this.”

She held the quilt out to me.

It was exquisite. The shades of blues worked together to create a subtle
three-dimensional effect that took my breath away. Black and purple pieces ran along the edges.

I ran my finger over the stitches. “Martha, it's beautiful.”

“Take it.”

I found myself hugging it close before pulling Martha into that hug. I didn't want to leave. “Thank you for letting me stay and be a part of your family.”

Martha's body, stiff at first, relaxed. Her hand patted my back. “You're welcome.”

I said my goodbyes to Gideon, Amos, and Elam, and hugged each of the younger children.

“Do you really have to go?” Elizabeth asked as she held onto my knees.

“I do,” I said, stroking her braid one last time. “I need to be with my family before I go back to work.”

“Will you write letters?”

I looked up to see Martha's encouraging nod. “If you want me to, I'll write.”

Sara stood in the living room, her back straight as the ladder in the barn. “Take better care of your clothes,” she said. “You really should learn to sew.”

I gave her a knowing smile. “I'll miss you too.”

I
thought about stopping by Levi's shop on the way out of town, but I decided against it. Saying goodbye to the Burkholders had already made me more emotional than I wanted to admit.

Besides, a part of me needed a clean break from Levi. I needed to focus on Shane if that relationship wasn't going to dissolve into Oprah-discussion material.

Clean break. Need space. Getting back to my life
. I reminded myself of all the reasons why it was okay to go home to a quiet, empty apartment.

Quiet as it was, the walls still seemed to hold the memory of noise, people, and laughter. The sound of pots clanging echoed in the kitchen. Sara's disbelief over my wardrobe still resonated in my bedroom.

And Levi…truth be told, he was everywhere. He was everywhere but I ignored it, unpacked my belongings from Amish-land and prepared for my trip to the Oregon Coast.

I couldn't sleep that night. My nights on the couch had been hit-and-miss, considering the mix of exhaustion and the fact that I wasn't used to sleeping on something with arms and a back, but this was different.

Every time I almost fell asleep, I heard something. A Harley roaring past. Skateboarder kids yelling. An emergency siren—no, two.

I hadn't heard a siren while I was sleeping since I'd left to stay with the Burkholders, and I couldn't believe how fast I'd accustomed myself to not hearing them. Now that I was hearing them, they annoyed me to no end. It was four in the morning! How much traffic could there be? Couldn't they
flash their lights and make that
whoop whoop
noise when necessary, instead of waking up every resident within a one-mile radius?

Unfortunately for Shane, I woke up the next morning groggy and irritated. When he arrived, my things weren't packed, my hair was wet, and I had only just gotten dressed.

Who knew getting dressed could be so difficult? I'd spent more than a week without clothing options, and now pairing a shirt with jeans took mental calisthenics I'd never expected. Sara had made me twitchy about my clothes. I held up a shirt and wondered,
What would Sara say?

It made the whole process rather time consuming.

“You're not ready?” Shane said, deciding, I supposed, that today was a good day to skate hard on thin ice.

I glared at him. “
No
, I'm not ready. And you're early. Why are you early?”

“No traffic. Why are you so defensive?”

“I told you! You're early and wonder why I'm not ready! Of course I'm not ready. If you'd been here on time, I might have been ready.”

“Sorry, no traffic. Are your bags packed?”

“No. But they might have been if you'd gotten here when you were supposed to.”

Shane checked his watch. “I'm ten minutes early. Would you have been packed and dried your hair in ten minutes?”

I crossed my arms. “Yes.”

He just looked at me.

“Maybe,” I amended. “At least I'm dressed.”

“Congratulations.” He sighed and took off his jacket. “Do you need help with anything?”

“No.”

“Did you, um…not sleep well?”

“No.”

“Ah. Take a deep breath. Go pack.”

I did. Or I tried. In the end, I shoved most of my closet into my suitcase, then pulled it all back out. “I need to go shopping.”

“What was that?” Shane called from the living room.

“I said I needed to go shopping.”

“I didn't know you shopped.”

“Everyone shops.” I packed socks. You couldn't go wrong with socks. “Otherwise, we'd starve.”

“I meant clothes shopping.”

“I've got to get them somehow, and shoplifting seems out of the question.”

“But you don't enjoy it.”

“No.” I tucked away a selection of underwear. “But it's like the dentist. Bad things happen if you don't go.”

Especially according to Sara, a girl who made all her own clothes. I would have discredited her opinion, except that it sounded a lot like everything Gemma had ever said about my motley collection of garments.

“You got a coffeemaker.” Shane, I guess, had moved from the living room to the kitchen. “Stumptown. That's good stuff. Need coffee? I'll make you a pot.”

I winced. “No, I'm fine.”

“Might help take the morning edge off.”

“You want me cranky
and
caffeinated?”

“Never mind.”

Thought so. I didn't need coffee in the air. It would remind me too much of a certain caffeine addict.

“Where exactly are we staying?”

I couldn't decide which jeans to take, so I brought them all. “The Sea Gypsy.”

Shane grimaced. “Is it clean?”

“I'm going to forget you said that. Of course it is. It's pristine.”

“Just asking.”

“It's the coast, Shane, not the slums of Mumbai.”

“Just checking.”

“Stop checking,” I said, dragging my bag down the hall. “Start loading. Please.”

Shane eyed my bag in disbelief. “Tell me that's half empty.”

“I like to think of it as half full.”

“Jayne!”

“What? I'm an incurable optimist.”

“It's two days! Unless I missed something…”

“No. Two days.”

“You need all that for two days? And we're not scuba diving?”

“I hate scuba diving.”

“What's wrong with scuba diving?”

I rolled my eyes. “The fact you're supposed to move away from the earth's main oxygen supply.”

“You take air with you.”

“Not the same. Why are we talking about this?”

“Because you have a suitcase you'd have to pay extra for to take on an airplane for two days on the Oregon Coast.”

“It's not fifty pounds!”

“It's close!”

My voice hardened. “You haven't even touched it! Do you weigh things with your eyes now? How much do I weigh?”

“I—” He stopped. Took a deep breath. “I'm sorry. This morning started off wrong.”

“You didn't answer my question.”

“Which one?”

“How much do I weigh?”

“Hi, Jayne,” he said, ignoring my question and taking my hand. “It's good to see you. I've missed you.”

“I've…missed you too.”

“Promise?”

I nodded. I really had.

“I'm sorry I was argumentative.”

I shifted my feet. “I'm sorry I was irritable.”

His other hand slipped around my back. “Can we make up?”

“Okay.” I put my arms around his neck.

He leaned closer and kissed me.

I analyzed the kiss with a clinical detachment. Did I enjoy it? Was the chemistry the same? Had I imagined the chemistry before?

The kiss…well, it wasn't the best. Shane kissed with a great deal of precision. If he were being scored on technique, he'd be Olympian.

But I wasn't seeing rainbows, or feeling at the least as though I wanted the kiss to continue forever.

Another two or three seconds was perfectly fine. I could move on without much of a second thought.

Then the guilt hit. The reason I was rainbow-less was because I was being so pickin' analytical. Being analytical would kill any kiss. Even the one I shared with Levi.

Wait—I wasn't supposed to be thinking! I was supposed to be moving on, mending fences, revisiting my past in order to prepare for my future. I
was doing everything Dr. Phil would want me to, dash it all, and thoughts about Levi wouldn't get in the way.

Shane pulled away. “You seem distracted.”

“Oh?”

“You're really tired, aren't you.”

“Yes.”

“Let's get you in the car. You can sleep on the way.”

I gave him a light hug. “You're sweet. Wait a minute!” I dashed back into my room, grabbing a small bag before returning to my behemoth suitcase.

“You forgot something?” I couldn't miss the irony in his voice.

I opened the bag and let him look inside. “My quilt squares are in here.”

“Quilt squares?”

“Something I got into last week. It's very calming.”

“You sew?”

I put my hands on my hips. “I cut.”

“And then what?”

“Haven't gotten that far. I just like cutting them out.”

Shane shook his head. He continued to shake his head even as he dragged my suitcase down the stairs to the car.

Shane's offer of travel time slumber was sweet, if impractical. If I couldn't sleep in my bed, logic followed that sleeping in a car while he griped about other drivers wasn't particularly likely.

I closed my eyes anyway.

He shook me “awake” once we entered the town of Rose Lodge. “Mind if we get something to eat when we get there? I'm starved.”

“We're close to Otis Café, if they're not too busy.”

Shane studied the sparse, rural buildings and lots littered with the occasional mobile home on cement blocks. “Busy?”

“There are only about eight tables and the café's been written up in a lot of national press—
USA Today
included. It's quite popular.”

“What kind of food?”

“Farmer's breakfast-type fare. Man food. A lot of potatoes. The bread's really good.”
The Burkholders would love it
.

Shane shrugged. “I'm game if you are. I thought you avoided carbs.”

“I've been living with the Amish.”

“Right. How close are we?”

“A mile or two.”

We drove for a while.

“Is that it?” he asked.

“Does it have a large sign that says ‘Café'?” I didn't open my eyes.

“Yes.”

“Is it on the right?”

“Yes.”

“Then pull in. We're here.”

I sat up straight and opened my door, looking out my window at the familiar sight that was Otis Café.