Plain Jayne (4 page)

When she heard Nick and Duke come back, she yanked the plug and turned the shower on to rinse off.

“Hope you’re hungry,” Nick called. “Chinese food’ll be here in a minute.”

She pulled her clothes back on and wandered back into the kitchen just as Nick set the bag of food on the table. They loaded up their plates and sat across from each other, the only conversation coming from the TV in the living room. Jayne had just taken a bite of her egg roll when Nick pushed his plate away, leaned back in his chair, and sighed, an awkward grin on his face.

“It’s been a long time since we did this.”

She wiped her mouth and chuckled over her egg roll. “It’s kind of tricky to organize meals together when we lived in different time zones.”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “But it’s my fault you didn’t come back sooner.”

“Seriously, Nick, just stop.” She huffed out a breath and crossed her arms. “You’re not the only one to blame, you know. I shouldn’t have come back for her funeral. If I’d given any thought to how much she and her family hated me, I wouldn’t have come, but honest to God, all I could think about was that you’d be so busy looking after everyone else, and there’d be no one looking after you.”

“Jayne.” He shifted a little, ducked his head to try and get her to look at him, but she kept her eyes trained on her plate.

“Three days I sat in that stupid Pearson airport waiting out that storm and all the other
standbys who got there ahead of me. And even when I finally got on a flight, it was like the pilot thought he was out for a Sunday drive or something. Longest five hours of my life.” After a second, she dared a quick look at him, then lifted her fork and pushed the chow mein around on her plate.

“I was so sure you needed me, but all I did was make it worse for you, and I’m …” The weary sigh escaped before she could stop it. “I’m really sorry for that.”

“Jeez, Jayne. You’ve got nothing to be sorry about.” Nick’s voice was little more than a whisper but it landed like a rock in her heart. “Having you there was exactly what I needed, but instead of telling you that, instead of thanking you for flying all the way across the freakin’ country, I was a total prick.”

She blinked back the itchy feeling behind her eyes and shrugged, hoping she could somehow manage to swallow the knot in her throat and speak somewhat normally.

“You weren’t a
total
prick,” she said after a while. The small grin she forced was every bit as painful as the lump she’d just swallowed. “Maybe a bit of one, but not a total one. Besides, her parents obviously thought I was there to either steal you away or spit on their daughter’s grave, so you were right to kick me out.”

“If it was right,” he said quietly, “then why do I still feel like such a shit?”

“Because you’re an idiot.” Her grin came much easier this time, but she threw in a dramatic eye roll for good measure. “Look, if being a complete ass to me helped you through the worst time of your life, then I’m glad I could help.”

“Hey!” He tried to give her a wounded look, but failed miserably when his mouth curled into a smile. “Two seconds ago, you just said I wasn’t a total ass.”

“No. I said you weren’t a total prick. You
were
a complete ass.”

“There’s a difference?”

“Duh!” A prick would have hurt her on purpose; an ass did it without realizing, and how could he have had any idea how much it would hurt her? Showing affection was a daily occurrence in the Scott family, whereas it wasn’t even considered in Gran’s apartment. Jayne never hugged anyone unless they hugged her first, and even then, she gave little more than a quick squeeze or a token pat on the back before wrenching herself free.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to hug Nick, or show him the affection he showed her, because she did. God help her, she did. She just didn’t know how to do it without looking and
feeling like a complete idiot.

Abby’s funeral was proof of that. That had been the first and only time in her life Jayne hadn’t worried about being awkward, or about who saw; she’d simply walked straight up to Nick in that church, threw her arms around him, and held on as tight as she could.

Abby’s mother had all but screamed the roof down until someone finally produced a sedative for her, but by that time, Nick was already dragging Jayne from the building and sending her away. He hadn’t done it to hurt her, he’d only done it to ease Mrs. Griffin’s anguish. Sitting there now at Nick’s kitchen table, Jayne knew this, so why did her eyes itch worse than before? And why was she blinking so fast?

Lifting her chin, she blew out a breath and arched a brow at him. “It’s been four years, Nick. For the love of God, can we just move on? You don’t need to apologize every single time we talk.”

“I know, but this is the first time we’ve been face-to-face since it happened, and an apology’s only good if it’s done face-to-face.”

“Okay,” she groaned. “Fine. You’re sorry, I’m sorry, the whole world’s sorry. It’s over.”

“But—”

“I swear to God, Nick—”

Before either of them could say anything else, the front door flew open, sending Duke into a frenzy.

“Carter!” Jayne barely made it off her chair before Nick’s cousin had her wrapped in a tight hug.

To this day, she never understood how she’d stayed friends with people who hugged so much. Nick had been the first person she ever remembered hugging her, and even at five years old, he’d made it seem so normal, but it wasn’t normal to Jayne. Not then, not now.

“I thought you had to work this weekend.”

“Called in a favor and switched a few things around.” His motorcycle helmet, still clutched in his hand, pushed against her back as he hugged her. “Can’t miss out on Loggers Sports weekend, can I? Especially now that you’re back.”

Being cousins, Nick and Carter bore a passing resemblance, but not enough that most people noticed. Nick’s hair might be a little messy most of the time, but at least he went to a real barber. Sure the guy was batshit crazy, but he did an okay job. Carter’s “barber” was any kid at
the hospital who happened to have a pair of scissors nearby. Parts stuck straight up, other parts were shorn almost to the scalp, and as for those cowlicks … well, there’d never been much hope for those anyway.

“Okay,” she laughed, untangling herself from his grip. “Enough of this. Grab a plate.”

“Did you get your stuff moved into your apartment?” he asked. “If you want, I can help after the bed races.”

While Carter loaded his plate, Jayne lifted a napkin from the table and shredded it into long, even strips as she filled him in on what they’d found at the store. Without a word, Nick reached over and pulled the strips from her fingers, then lifted the entire pile of napkins and set them out of her reach.

Carter’s dark eyes dulled and his grin faded to nothing as he listened to what she told him.

“Holy hell, Jay, what are you going to do?”

“Clean it out.” The answer fell from her tongue before she had time to think about it. Of course she’d clean it out; it was Gran’s bookstore. No, it was
her
bookstore, and come hell or high water, she was going to reopen it.

“Attagirl.” She almost didn’t hear Nick, his voice was so low.

Carter nodded over a mouthful of almond chicken. “We’ll start tomorrow.”

“We?” she laughed. “Oh no. You guys never miss Loggers Sports and you’re not going to start now.”

“The only thing we can’t miss is the Stomp,” Nick said, setting a beer down in front of Carter. “Ever since I told Pop you were coming home, all he’s talked about is getting you out on the dance floor to do the ‘Achy Breaky’ with him again.”

A shot of warmth started in Jayne’s heart and slowly worked its way out into a smile. Warren Scott was the type of father she would have chosen for herself if she’d been able. His warm smile and gentle heart always made Jayne feel welcome, even if his wife didn’t always share his sentiment.

For Doc, Jayne would do almost anything, even line dance.

“Okay, well, the Stomp is different, but you guys should go to the show, sit in the beer garden, fill up on that Rotary beef barbecue you love so much. I’ll be fine.”

It didn’t matter what she said because both of them were flat out ignoring her.

“Whatever,” she laughed. “What’s going on with you, Carter? Who’s the girl of the month these days?”

Carter chuckled and rubbed his earlobe in slow circles. “I’m sort of between girls at the moment.”

Jayne dropped her jaw in a mocking gasp. “No.”

“Just keeping my options open. You never know who’ll show up at the Stomp.” He wagged his brow cheekily. “What about you? Still a jerk magnet?”

“Hey,” she choked over a laugh. “I’ve dated some good guys.”

“Yeah?” he mocked. “Name one.”

It took her a second. “Adam Metzler.”

Nick and Carter snorted in unison.

“That was high school,” Nick laughed. “And he spent more time bent over his Bunsen burner than he spent with you.”

“I don’t care, you said name one.” Jayne reached for the soya sauce packs, but Nick scooped them all up, then smirked when she rolled her eyes at him.

“Maybe we’ll find you someone at the Stomp,” Carter said, swallowing the rest of his rice.

“I’ve been in town ten minutes, Carter. How about you let me catch my breath before you marry me off to the first single guy we stumble across?” She gave him a gentle shove and started packing the rest of the food away. “We better get going or you guys are going to miss your race.”

“Right.” Nick glanced over at the clock before dumping his plate in the sink. “You ready, Carter?”

“Yup, just give me a minute, I’ll meet you out in the truck.”

“And on the way,” Jayne said, smiling up at Nick, “you can tell me all about Linda.”

“Lisa.”

“Right. Lisa. That’s what I said.”

The stores downtown had all been decorated in their best logging displays. Painted on the window of the Cactus Café, a giant finger cactus had been “logged” so one of its fingers now lay between the uprights in the back of a logging truck, and a man in falling gear had been painted on another finger, strapped on, with his chainsaw at the ready.

The toy store window was filled with Tonka trucks and plastic saws, and the clothing store next to it, Pandora’s, had dressed its mannequins in faded red straps, flannel shirts, and hard hats. A two-handed saw had been propped between them and in each corner of the window sat a small chair carved from a log, the backs of each cut into maple leaves.

Kids, covered in remnants of candy floss and ice cream, rode atop their dads’ shoulders; white-faced clowns with bright red cheeks twisted balloons into hot dog–shaped animals and a couple entrepreneurial girls sold popcorn from a wheeled red cart as people lined the street and waited for the first heat.

Over the years, the bed races had morphed from a full-out sprint down the length of Main Street to an obstacle course, but they were still run on rickety old hospital gurneys that looked like they were going to collapse at any moment. Five to a team, one rode the bed while the other four grabbed the bed corners and huffed it down the street, stopping here and there to set a choker, saw the end off a log, or meet any number of other logging-inspired challenges.

In old-school Loggers Sports style, some teams dressed in their pajamas (or in their wives’ if they were so inclined), while others took their costumes to a whole new level. Hobbits, Gryffindors, zombies, and a team of men dressed in slutty nurses’ costumes were only some of the trends. There was no telling how many children would need therapy after seeing George Novak’s girth bursting out of that micro-mini white dress, never mind the way he’d stuffed his size 14 feet into a pair of white pumps and managed to run upright in them.

Disturbing didn’t even begin to cover it.

The best spot to watch the races was on the curb in front of T-Squared’s store, the spot always reserved for Edith Goodsen, whose husband had been one of the original organizers from way back.

It had been seven or eight years since Jayne’s last Loggers Sports weekend, so Mrs. G might not even remember her, but that didn’t stop Jayne. She bought a bag of pink candy floss and hustled across the road to where Mrs. Goodsen sat parked in her wheelchair. Whoever brought the old girl was nowhere to be seen, but at least they’d tucked the green crocheted blanket around her legs before leaving.

“Mrs. G.” Jayne crouched down on her haunches and opened the bag of floss. “Do you remember me?”

“Jayne Morgan.” The woman’s wrinkles deepened, her watery blue eyes sparkled. “ ’Bout time you came home. No one else ever shares their candy floss with me.”

She pulled a handful of floss out of the bag and stuffed it in her mouth, grinning all the while.

“How have you been?” Jayne sat on the curb next to her fellow floss-lover and grinned. “You look great.”

“I look old,” Mrs. G laughed.

“Any of the grandkids racing tonight?”

Mrs. G took another handful and grunted. “They don’t even come to watch.”

“Really? Wow.” Gran had always said if it wasn’t for Jack Goodsen and others like him who built this town on the back of the logging industry, most of the people living here wouldn’t have a pot to piss in, and that included his own grandchildren.

Mrs. G set her hand on Jayne’s shoulder and patted her softly. “I’m sorry about your grandmother. I know you and Tilly weren’t close but she spoke of you often.”

Jayne snorted softly and stuffed the floss in her mouth to try and sweeten her tongue before she spoke. “I can’t imagine what she’d have to say
about
me, since she refused to speak
to
me.”

“Be that as it may, dear,” Mrs. G said, “she was very happy that you had your own life away from here.”

“No kidding,” Jayne muttered, then cleared her throat slowly. “Mrs. G, did you know Gran had all that stuff in the store?”

“What stuff, dear?”

“The store and apartment are both full of … stuff. Boxes and boxes of junk.”