Mind of Her Own (16 page)

Following Collin upstairs, Jazz forced a smile in case he turned around to look at her. He wouldn’t, though; she knew him well enough by now to know when he was angry. He stood straighter, his back almost rigid—right now, there wasn’t a curve anywhere in the plaid pattern of his shirt.

He stopped at the second-floor landing. “Do you want to come see the room we were supposed to share?”

The terse question pained her. She avoided his gaze by inspecting the well-worn path on the wooden floor. “Maybe later. I think I’ll go upstairs and check out my room. I’ll knock on your door in an hour, if that’s okay?” She held out her hand for her luggage.

Without a word, Collin shifted her bag off his shoulder to her. He turned to leave, then stopped. “An hour will be fine,” he said, and without looking back he strode down the hall.

Heartsick, she climbed the stairs with the knowledge that this time together would hold nothing but explosive emotions for the both of them. Collin never took Louisa away without the children. That thrilled her and made her angry at the same time. One moment she felt like a satisfied only child, and in the next moment jealousy leaked from her pores. How was she supposed to deal with those kinds of feelings?

By the time she reached the door with Miss Edna’s name engraved on a pewter plaque, she regretted bringing along so many books. The shoulder strap bit into her skin. She knew if she looked, it would be raw skin and quite possibly bloody, which could lead to an infection. Maybe she would lose her arm, and then how would Collin feel? She gave her head a shake to erase the thought.
Stop being a writer for a minute, will you? Your shoulder isn’t bleeding, and gangrene won’t happen.

Jazz slid the key into the lock and turned it. Stepping into the room, she sighed with pleasure. Oak bookshelves lined the walls, and they were filled with books! A white iron daybed topped with fluffy pillows rested against the wall under a dormer window. The walls were covered in wallpaper graced with tiny pink rosebuds. A perfect writing haven, and it was all hers for the weekend! She stopped just short of twirling for joy as she remembered her original intention of being here. It wasn’t about writing; it was about becoming Collin’s wife.

“Enough. It isn’t going to work out this weekend, so I might as well make use of this room in a way that would please Miss Edna.” Her laptop case thumped as she slid it on top of the small white desk by the door. She dropped her other bag on the floor, not in the least concerned about unpacking her clothes. All she wanted to do was set her computer free of its case, curl up on the bed, and write until dark.

* * *

Collin paced his room like a hound roped to his doghouse. He’d unpacked his clothes, called home to check on the kids, and regretted more than once that the room came without normal hotel amenities like a television and a fridge full of drinks.

Collin checked his watch for the third time. Where was she? Five more minutes, and he was climbing the stairs and banging on her door. It had been more than an hour.
You shouldn’t have trusted her, Copeland. She’s probably got that laptop plugged in already and found some creative way to use it.
He had a feeling this weekend would be tougher than he’d imagined. Spending time alone with Jazz would be fun; spending time with Jazz and her computer wouldn’t be.

At least the kids were in good hands. Beth could handle anything Madison threw at her. He guessed experience raising a daughter helped with a granddaughter. He did wish Beth and Jazz could have had more time together. Maybe something would have connected in her memory. The odd thing was the distant way Jazz had greeted her mom. True, Jazz didn’t remember her, and Beth seemed preoccupied these days. That didn’t seem right to him. Beth only lived about an hour away, but she hadn’t driven in to see Jazz when she heard about the accident, and that wore on his mind. Collin figured Beth was probably caught up in her new relationship with Phil. He knew she’d been lonely these last two years since her husband had died, and Phil had to be a welcome change from a quiet house. He’d taken her to Hermann, Missouri, to tour the wineries, and they’d biked part of the Katy Trail. Still, he suspected Beth might have the key to Jazz’s memory problem. Why wasn’t she trying harder to help her daughter? But maybe he was being unfair. He did tend to suspect the worst in people sometimes.

Collin checked his watch again. Why wait for her? She wasn’t coming. He would have to go get her. He thought about calling her but didn’t want to talk to the front-desk guy again. He was still reeling from the humiliation of having his wife ask for a separate room. She’d given up a room with sloped ceilings, a giant tub, and a feather bed covered with intricate woven lace just so she wouldn’t have to sleep in the bed with him. He didn’t even get the chance to be a gentleman and offer to take the smaller room. No, his wife pounced like a kitten at the chance to stay in the old schoolmarm’s room.
The unmarried schoolmarm,
he added.

Angry now at being made to wait, he grabbed his keys off the old dresser. In seconds he had closed the door and started up the steps. He wasn’t sure how he would pull her away from her new friend if she were involved with it. But he would. Yes, he would, and he wouldn’t hesitate to take it away from her if he had to. After another flight of stairs, his temper began to cool and logic took over. Maybe he should just stay in her room and let her work while he rested. Then he could take the computer later.

Collin arrived at her door winded. He knocked.

No answer.

He knocked a little louder.

Still no answer.

He put his ear on the door and listened. Maybe she was taking a bath, but he didn’t hear water splashing. Frustration mounted as he realized she must be ignoring him. He wouldn’t wait for her anymore. He would at least enjoy the small town. The time off from work could still be a good thing; he could focus on the upcoming week, maybe plan next year’s goals or relax by himself if that’s how Jazz wanted the weekend to be. He didn’t need her. He thundered back down the stairs.

He reached the common room and stopped in his tracks. Her blonde hair was twisted and tied with a colorful scarf, her ponytail bounced, and her hands waved while she talked. Jazz. She hadn’t stopped for him; instead she came down without him. At least she wasn’t upstairs ignoring him.

Collin strode into the common room where Jazz was apparently holding court with the other B&B-ers. What is she doing? She held a pad of paper on her lap and her pen moved across it. He couldn’t believe it. She was interviewing the other guests! He should halt this procedure, but it didn’t appear that anyone minded talking to her. He stopped to listen for a moment.

“When and how did you meet?” she asked the couple holding hands on a purple velvet couch.

“It was the oddest thing. I was doing my laundry, and so was he. We started talking and discovered we knew the same people, but we’d never met each other.” The woman’s skin crinkled with joy as she smiled at the man next to her.

“Where was your first date?” Jazz didn’t look up from her notes.

“We went to the fair,” the woman said. “It was a great time, fireworks and watermelon under the stars. We sat on a quilt your grandmother made, remember?”

“The fair.” Jazz wrote on the paper some more.

“No, we didn’t. I took you to the movies.”

Jazz scratched out what she’d written.

“That wasn’t me. That was Helen Darcy, not me.” The woman pulled her hand out of the man’s.

“Are you sure? I thought it was you I took to see that film. What was the name of it? You cried all over my shirt.”

“That wasn’t me. I never cried on your shirt.” The woman moved over an inch.

Collin thought he’d better step in and break up this interview before Jazz caused the couple to argue all weekend. “Jazz, there you are. I was waiting for you.”

“I’m sorry, Collin. I just thought I’d look around before coming upstairs. But then I started talking to the Shatzes. This is Carrie, and this is her husband, Rick.”

He shook hands with Rick and gave a nod to Carrie. “Nice to meet you.” Then he turned back to Jazz. “I thought we would explore the town and get a snack. Maybe we can rent a bike and ride the trail for a while.”

“Sounds like fun. I can’t remember when I rode a bike last,” Jazz said.

“No doubt it was in India or on the coast of Alaska,” he grumbled. Jazz gave him a look that had belonged to Louisa, and he began to wonder if all women were born with the innate skill to freeze a man in his tracks.

“Don’t be mean, Collin. I’ll talk to the two of you later,” she said to the Shatzes. “Thank you for sharing your story with me.”

Collin and Jazz left the couple still arguing about their first date. He hoped Rick could sort it out. If not, Collin would offer to share his room with him. He wondered if Jazz even realized she may have ruined that couple’s weekend getaway. Not likely. She often seemed oblivious to the small fires she started around her.

* * *

The sidewalk was old and bowed. They watched their step to keep from tripping on a jutting piece of concrete that was being evicted by tree roots. Ahead of them, a bush laden with tiny pale-yellow flowers wound over and through an iron fence. It swayed in the gentle fall breeze. When they reached the bush, Collin plucked one of the flowers and held it out to Jazz. Louisa loved them; maybe they would trigger a memory. “Smell it.”

She took it and put the flower to her nose. “I love the fragrance. It’s a clean smell, isn’t it? Not all perfume and show like the rose tries to be.”

“So you recognize the smell?”
Always playing the optimist,
he thought.

“Sure. It used to grow in our backyard. I like the smell, but there always seemed to be bees buzzing around it, so I stayed away from it most of the time.”

It surprised Collin to discover it didn’t bother him that the honeysuckle didn’t trigger what he’d come to call the “big memory.” Again guilt attacked from beneath his heart—he should want his wife back to normal and healthy.

They walked past a few stores that were closed, and one of them was a small publisher. Collin took a mental note of the name. An idea occurred to him, and he planned to follow up on it when he returned home.

They found the wooden shed where bikes were rented by the hour or the day. Collin sent Jazz to pick out helmets while he paid the bike attendant for the rental of a bicycle built for two. He wasn’t sure how Jazz would feel about riding with him, but he personally thought it was romantic. It would be similar to the kind of trust exercises he had to do in youth group when he was younger. Who knew those were going to come in handy on a date with his wife?

He pushed the bike from the lean-to and rolled to a stop in front of Jazz. She stood open-mouthed and speechless.

“You can be in front or back—your choice.”

“I’ve never ridden one of these before.” Jazz circled the metal beast as if it were a tiger in the zoo. “If I take the back, I give up control of where we’re going. But on the back—” she looked up and flashed him a charming smile—“you won’t know if I’m not pedaling. I’ll take the back.”

“You have to pedal. It’s a partnership, like marriage. You have to work together or it will all fall on the other person’s shoulders.”
Like our marriage now.
He realized he was being unfair to Jazz, but it was true. He felt like he had to take care of everyone in the family right now without a break—ever. Even when things seemed to be going well, Jazz would do something crazy, and he’d have to pick up the pieces all over again and try to reassemble them.

“What are you thinking, Collin? That I won’t hold up my end of the work?” She frowned at him. “Or maybe you think I’m not doing my share at home?”

He almost flinched. How did she know what he had been thinking? Louisa would have known, but Jazz hadn’t been able to figure him out yet. He took the helmet from her and stuck it on his head. Pulling the strap tight, he climbed on the bike. “Let’s just ride. There’s supposed to be a tunnel if we go to the right.”

Jazz slid the helmet on top of her head, adjusting her ponytail so it would fit underneath. After her strap was tight, she placed her hand on the bicycle seat and heaved her leg over the bar. “Didn’t they have girls’ bikes?”

“I’m not riding a girls’ bike. It’s not manly,” Collin said. “Are you ready to try this?”

“Which foot should we push off with? Left?”

“Right.”

“Right. Wait, am I starting with my foot on the right or left pedal?”

“Push with the left foot.” He hoped their communication would improve as they rode down the gravel bike path, or they might be picking stones from their hands and knees.

They rode off in silence as they tried adjusting to each other’s balance.

“Collin, you’re drifting to the right. We’re going to run off the path.” Jazz squealed like a teenage girl.

“No, I’m not. You’re shifting your weight, and it’s throwing me off.” Collin thought for a moment. “Try watching my back, leaning the way I do. Maybe we can learn to balance together that way.”

“Sorry, it’s this seat. It hurts my behind. It doesn’t have any give to it at all. In fact, it feels like I’m riding on a brick.”

“How many bricks have you ridden on in your life, Jazz?” Collin agreed with her on the pain from the seat, but he had a feeling that if he admitted it out loud, she would want to go back to the bed and breakfast. Once there, he wouldn’t see her again until it was time to eat. Again he regretted ever buying her that computer. No, not buying it, but giving it to her before they left.

“I can’t see anything except the back of your head, Collin. Is the tunnel close?”

“It’s after the bridge, and I can see the bridge. Quit trying to look around me; it’s messing us up and we’re going to crash.” Why did he ever think this was going to work?

“Can we stop at the bridge?” she pleaded.

“Will you get back on the bike after you get off?” He had a feeling he knew the answer because he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to remount either.

“Of course. How else will I get back?”

Her answer surprised him. He thought she would take the easy way back. “You could walk.”