By Proxy (21 page)

She stretched and heard Casey stir in the kitchen. She checked her clock: 6:45 a.m. She didn’t have to leave for Livingston for an hour and a half.

Thoughts of their final conversation at the arch yesterday made her heart clench. She turned onto her side in bed, drawing her knees up and hugging herself.
It wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t have to take those vows today. It wouldn’t be so bad if we had just said good-bye yesterday once and for all.

She knew that wasn’t completely true. The vows were only incidental to her pain. Yes, the memory of saying the words to Sam would compound her sorrow once he was gone. But it was his absence from her that would be at the crux of her regret. Their heartbreaking exchange didn’t change Jenny’s feelings for him. If anything, she cared for him more after hearing him share his feelings and voicing her own at the arch. She wanted to see Sam today; she just wished they didn’t have to say good-bye.

She was honest with Sam when she said she had never felt anything like this in her life. The closest word she could think of was “love,” and yet any rational person knew you couldn’t fall in love with someone over the course of a long weekend. Love took months, years even, to develop properly: meeting each other and moving from acquaintance to friendship to courtship. Building a relationship over a series of dates and meetings. Introducing each other to friends and family over time, seeing each other through some of life’s challenges and overcoming them together. Then finally, finally knowing with certainty there is love between you and committing to a marriage. She had only known Sam for three days; it couldn’t possibly be love.

And yet, it
felt
the way Jenny imagined love would feel. Every free moment from Friday afternoon to now, her mind had been consumed with Sam. When she was without him, she longed to be with him. When she was with him, she yearned for more from him than his presence. She battled a constant, unrequited hunger for more dialogue, more discussion, a return of her increasingly passionate feelings. It felt impossible he should care for her when Jenny had seen the women who populated his life in Chicago. He could have a supermodel by his side, but he wanted Jenny. It made her feel special and cherished, like she was something precious to someone who had his pick of beautiful things and gave him a depth and authenticity which captivated her heart. It was as if he saw through the outward layers of her plainness, beelining with meticulous precision to her heart, which he seemed to see with clarity and regard with…
with what, Jenny? Love?

He hadn’t used the word “love” yesterday. He said he had “strong feelings” for her and was “falling hard” for her, but love wasn’t a word he had used to characterize his feelings.
He barely knows you, Jenny. He can’t possibly be in love with you.

And of course, when it all boiled down, neither of them was prepared to budge for the other. She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She put her hands on her knees, and hung her head in confusion.
This can’t be love. It must be something else.

She padded into the bathroom and looked at her face in the mirror, touching her lips lightly where he had kissed her on Saturday night. She cocked her head to the side, considering her attraction to him. For the first time in Jenny’s life, her body had come alive, responding eagerly to Sam’s tender touch. Physically, even now, she craved the touch of his hands laced through hers, swiping away a tear with his knuckle, holding her face in his hands as he had yesterday. She burned even more for the heat of his lips on hers, for the touch of his breath on her skin, and simply
—pathetically, Jenny
—for the comforting warmth of his arms around her, even as she was refusing him.

She stepped into the shower, the hot water soothing and restorative. She breathed in, leaning her head back, closing her eyes. Was that it, then?
Not love, just an intense physical attraction; in your inexperience you are mixing up the two.
Because love would make you trade Gardiner for Chicago, love would make you willingly leave your home as his mother had, love would conquer all of your fears. Wouldn’t it? This can’t be love. Love would leave you irrevocably changed.

She hadn’t changed; she was still sensible, grounded Jenny. She had told him no. She wasn’t the sort of girl who went running away with the first man who asked. She toweled off, feeling more confident and secure. She would take Ingrid’s vows, return to Gardiner and resume her life.
This was all probably just an infatuation. Yes, that was it.
Once he was gone, her life would go back to normal and she would know for sure Sam had just been a short, sweet infatuation. She would think back on their weekend together as she did on any pleasant memory.

She finished toweling off and got dressed. Casey would need a walk before she drove the hour to Livingston, and she didn’t want to be late.

Later, as she left her apartment for Livingston, Jenny caught her reflection in the hallway mirror and paused to look at herself. She examined the face that stared back and an unexpected realization rocked her, upsetting her careful logic about love versus infatuation. She was dressed exactly the same as she had been last Friday morning: blonde hair brushed shiny, loose and long down her back, simple gray sweater-dress from Sears. Outwardly, she looked the same, yet the girl looking back at her was a totally different person, fundamentally and irrevocably changed from the person she had been on Friday. She gasped softly and touched her fingers to her earlobes, her cheeks, her lips, her waist, her hips; all places conquered and claimed by Sam.

She grabbed her bag and keys, then looked back at herself again, lifting her chin with fragile courage as one last thought formed in her head: Before Friday, life had been pleasant, content, even fulfilling in its own way, but she knew now that her world had been a dull gray in contrast to the blinding, vibrant color that painted her world now. She swallowed, biting her upper lip in defeat.
How do you go back to gray when you’ve seen your life in Technicolor?

***

Sam waited in the chair at the top of the stairs. He glanced at his watch, then at the double doors in the lobby below. They still had twenty minutes before their appointment. He had no doubt she’d be on time.

After a terrible night’s sleep, he conceded defeat at 7:00, got showered, got dressed and got the hell out of Gardiner. He wished someone else could stand in for him as proxy today so he could just leave Montana and never look back, try to forget ever meeting Jenny, ever wanting her, ever feeling the intense ache of longing he had never felt for another person in all his life.

He brushed some lint off the sleeve of his cashmere coat, wondering if she’d be wearing that ridiculous-looking, puffy parka she’d been holding the first time he saw her. He wanted to stay focused on his anger toward her, to ward off the confused sadness that kept threatening a hostile takeover, but her face invaded his mind and he lost the battle, softening as he pictured her laughing, smiling, leaning forward to press her lips against his.

Damn it, Jenny. Why won’t you come to me?

He knew, of course, why she had refused him. After losing her mother, she held onto her family with an unwavering devotion, setting aside her dreams for herself. Part of the reason he cared for her so much was her traditional values, which included a deep commitment to her family, so how could he ask her to break it? The answer was simple: Moving to Gardiner was impossible for him. He had a plan for his life: get a good education, find a job in finance, choose smart investments, show better and better returns, impress the powers that be, move up in his company, make bigger and bigger deals, live in a big house, marry a beautiful woman, have a few kids, live happily ever after. What the heck was he supposed to do in Gardiner? Help her Dad lead wilderness tours? Run a restaurant for tourists? Be a teller in a local bank? He grimaced in distaste. He’d be giving up on
his
dreams, just as she had.

In his heart he knew her feelings for him were genuine, which roiled his stomach until he thought he might be sick. It made the situation so much worse to know for sure that she cared for him. He stood up and shrugged out of his coat, taking a deep breath of cold air as the double doors opened and an older lady made her way to the information desk, nodding and smiling her hellos. He folded his coat and placed it on top of the chair, straightening out his suit jacket and tie. He looked at his watch again. Ten more minutes.

If she didn’t care for him, he knew he would be able to leave without looking back; he was sure his infatuation would have faded quickly if it had been one-sided. He’d find some cute thing in Chicago and take her out a few times, drink Peppermint Schnapps shots with her at a holiday party and smile as she licked the candy cane garnish suggestively. He’d take her home for hot, forgettable sex and do it all over again the following weekend. If Jenny didn’t have feelings for him, he’d have a better chance of moving on and she’d eventually settle in the back of his mind as a passing infatuation, a quaint interlude, a sweet memory.

He thought of her placing her hand over his heart and put his hands on the balcony railing, clenching it forcefully, bowing his head and closing his eyes. He remembered her blue eyes, brightened with unshed tears, beseeching him to understand. How long would those eyes haunt him? And how could he resume his old ways when his heart knew somewhere in Montana there lived someone infinitely better, sweeter, deeper and more worth having than the parade of meaningless relationships that he was sure waited for him?

I will conquer this. I will eventually banish you from my head, Jenny Lindstrom. I will be free of you one day…

The double doors whooshed open, and suddenly Jenny stood on the threshold. As if she knew where he’d be, she raised her head and her eyes captured his with an intensity that made him gasp quietly. His languishing heart danced when he saw her face, and in spite of himself, he smiled at her, lifting his hand in greeting.

…but, today is not that day.

***

Seeing him at the top of the stairs was like turning her face to the full light of the sun after living in darkness since yesterday afternoon. She moved toward him with an unhesitating certainty, holding his eyes intently as she made her way up the stairs. When she got to the top, he opened his arms and she fell into them wordlessly, gratefully, as an exhausted person falls into bed at the end of a terrible day. Tears welled up in her eyes as she laid her forehead in the crook of his neck, but she blinked the tears away, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. She lost herself in the strength of his embrace, his familiar scent, the way his chest rose and fell with the force of his breathing. His arms enveloped her completely and he rested his chin on her head, letting his breath out in a forceful sigh. She felt him swallow hard and leaned back to look at his face.

He was smiling at her in a sad, resigned way. His eyes weren’t laughing or teasing; they were tired and defeated
.

I know
, she thought.
Me too.

He released her gently and cocked his head to the side. “Ready?”

She nodded, swallowing down the lump in her own throat, returning his sad, resigned smile.
Oh, Sam, I wish things could be different.

He put out his hand and she searched his eyes before taking it. She didn’t see hope there; she didn’t see much of anything. He was protecting himself. She looked back at his hand. It might be her last chance to hold it, so she took it in hers, savoring the muscled warmth, allowing him to lead her down the hallway to the clerk’s office.

He released her hand to hold the door for her and she stepped through and made her way to the same secretary who had been there on Friday. Sam stood next to her. She felt his fingers lace through hers under the counter as the woman looked up at them.

The secretary adjusted her glasses and sniffed with annoyance. “So you got alarm clocks.”

Jenny nodded. “We’re here for the—”

“Double proxy. Nordstrom-Svenson. I know.” She looked up at them over her glasses, her gaze shifting back and forth between them quizzically. She raised her eyebrows and cleared her throat before looking back down at her keyboard. “Humph.”

“Ma’am?” Jenny asked.

She didn’t look up from her keyboard. “You look different. That’s all.”

Jenny glanced up at Sam in confusion and he squeezed her hand reassuringly. “We’re the same.”

“If you say so.” The secretary cleared her throat again and wheeled her stool a short distance to a printer, waited a moment, then scooted back to them, handing Jenny the printout. She gestured back to the door. “Go back out, down the hallway. Third door, room 303. Judge Hanlon and the witnesses should already be there waiting, or they will be there directly.”

Jenny swallowed. This was really about to happen. She was going to take vows with Sam. She knew they were for Ingrid, but it was all very real to Jenny who would hear the words come out of her own mouth, and her misgivings made her tremble with the gravity of what she was about to do.

Sam squeezed her hand again, pulling her away from the counter toward the door. “Thank you, Ma’am.”

“I was right, you know.” They turned their heads back in unison to look at her. “Didn’t hurt you a bit to stick around for a few days. Did you some good.” She nodded once at Sam humorlessly then resumed her typing.

Jenny locked her eyes with Sam’s for a moment, and she could see the pain there. She knew differently. It had hurt him to stay.

***

The witnesses were already seated in room 303 when Jenny and Sam entered. It was a very small room sparsely furnished with a rectangular conference table and six chairs. No artwork adorned the walls; they were blank except for a functional black and white clock fastened to the wall above the doorway.

Sam sat down in an open seat on one side of the table and Jenny took the seat opposite him. The female witness sat beside Jenny and the male witness beside Sam. They exchanged handshakes in greeting then the witnesses resumed their quiet conversation while Jenny stared down at her hands on the table, the seriousness of this ceremony and her part in it turning doubt into panic.