According To Jane Part 29

"You can be sure it will if Ellie's in charge of it," Angelique piped up. "Remember Di's bachelorette party? The food was delicious. I'm still salivating over that scrumptious teriyaki salmon." My cousin directed her comments to my mom, but she winked at me.

"Yes, yes that was good," Mom admitted.

"And the mashed potatoes were super fluffy," Angelique's daughter Lyssa added, proving the ten-year-old was as sweet as she was smart.

Nadia laughed. "Forget about the food. Awesome as it was, let's not overlook the entertainment Ellie chose for us that night!"

This got a big laugh from the ladies present. Dad, Leo, Alex, Gregory and his sons, however, appeared less amused.

I blushed, although I'd done nothing more perverted than hire a fun-loving male dancer, whose sole job was to show us some cool moves and give us a crash course in new millennium hip-hop (while keeping on every st.i.tch of his clothing, mind you). Even Mom got into the fun. But we'd all made a pact afterward not to tell the men what had really transpired that night, for which none of the guys had forgiven us.

Di grinned at me and said, "Yeah, that wild sister of mine really knows how to plan a party. I'm a lucky bride." Then, as I tried to shrug off her compliment, Di turned to our parents and added, "Thanks for giving me Ellie."

At this, Gregory jumped up. "Hey, what about me? Don't I count?" He tried to strike an indignant pose, but it didn't quite work.

Di said, "Oh, sorry, bro. Mom, Dad, thanks for giving Ellie to Gregory, too."

Our family laughter was interrupted by the doorbell ringing for the second time that Wednesday.

Mom said, "I'll get it. I'm expecting an extra package of wedding favors. That Mary-somebody said she'd FedEx over another box today."

While Mom signed for her box, Dad, Leo, Gregory and most of the males headed downstairs to watch the first basketball game, bowls of pie and ice cream in hand.

Angelique, torn between wanting to see the game and wanting to chitchat with the women, shoved one of the triplets at Leo, put Lyssa in charge of another one and chased the third one around the living room.

Alex gobbled up the rest of his lunch and, before he could pull Di out the door, was promptly handed dessert.

"Eat this," my mother said. Alex sat back down again and let Di feed him a huge spoonful of ice-cream-drenched pie.

Little Clifton toddled over to me and threw his chunky little arms around my knees. I grabbed him for a bear hug and he wriggled and giggled, making me laugh with all of his squirminess.

Over the past few months I'd tried to puzzle out which of Di's ex-boyfriends he looked liked. If pressed, I'd have to say the only male he really resembled was our brother. The Barnett side had strongly marked his young features, and Clifton seemed to know this clan was where he belonged.

Alex, however, appeared to have no recollection of Clifton not being biologically his, which pleased me to witness. When Di got up to flip through the big wedding planner, Alex waved his spoon at her son and said, "Want some ice cream, Cliffy?"

My nephew wavered between the two of us.

"Aw, c'mon, kiddo." Alex chuckled and winked in my direction. "I know no one's more fun than your Auntie El, but Daddy's got ice cream here..."

Clifton finally made his decision and, with a parting squeeze of those stubby, sticky fingers, waddled over to Alex, mouth open and ready.

Di caught my eye, embracing me in a glance with her heartfelt contentedness. And I could imagine her joy at being part of that happy trio, even though I'd never experience the same.

There was nothing like thinking you'd lost someone for good to put petty disagreements into perspective. Alex cast his pride aside and came running back when he thought Di might've moved on without him. Di reached true forgiveness only when she realized the love she had for Alex was much stronger than the pa.s.sing fancy she'd felt toward other men.

And I'd gained a clarity of heart once I finally decided to search for myself, even though, in the process, I had to face the fact that this understanding had come too late. That I'd lost any chance of ever getting together with Sam.

Those early weeks after finding out about his engagement had been hard. So much so that I'd finally confided in Di (in person) and Angelique (via long-distance telephone) about my strange and a.s.sorted history with him. I needed advice, and Jane, who was so wise and generous in every other situation, refused to give counsel when it came to "that Wickham, Sam Blaine." Though my news surprised both my sister and my cousin, they surprised me more by being amazingly sympathetic.

"Your soul mate could not be genuinely happy without you," Angelique had said when I'd first called her about it. "If Sam has moved on, after everything you've told me about your relations.h.i.+p, then he was never really your man. You deserve someone whose eyes light up when he sees you across the room. Someone who'll rub your shoulders when they're aching just because he wants to relieve your pain. Someone whose heart never stops beating for you. And that man is out there for you, Ellie," she a.s.sured me. "It's worth taking your time to find him."

Di's advice directly contradicted this and was somewhat less poetic. "True love sucks," she'd said one day, "and there's no such thing as soul mates, no matter what Hollywood or Angelique says. It's all work and building trust and fighting for commitment, day after day after day. And both people need to want to make it happen. Bad. Otherwise, f.u.c.k it."

Months later, the memory of Angelique and Di's words of wisdom still made me grin. My philosophy on romantic love fell somewhere in the middle of their extremes, but the familial devotion and appreciation I felt flowing from my closest relatives, even from those who weren't aware of my heartache, had given me the courage to expose myself to dating again.

The results had been less than inspiring so far, but I was giving it a shot. At the start of the year, I'd written Sam a heartfelt and personally cleansing note of congratulations on his upcoming nuptials. It said: Dear Sam, I heard the news of your engagement through the Glen Forest grapevine-congratulations. I guess there's a side of me that'll always remember our friends.h.i.+p as it'd been during those emotional, unforgettable high school years...it's hard to believe we're so grown up now. I don't think I ever told you how much those memories meant to me, though, or how glad I am that-despite everything-you were a part of my life back then.

Anyway, I know we haven't seen each other in half a decade, and when last we did, well, it was awkward. I didn't want to leave things between us like that. So, please know, I'm thinking of you fondly and wis.h.i.+ng you and your fiancee well as you begin your life together.

Best,

Ellie

Yes, the whole message consisted of no more than six complex sentences but, as I wrote those words and sincerely wished him happiness with the woman he'd chosen, I also silently released him from my mind.

It was long past time to let Sam Blaine go.

Likewise, I'd recently begun to let go of the soul-mate, fairytale fantasy I'd clung to for ages while still striving to stay open to romantic possibilities. I had to turn my attention-realistically-toward the future.

I knew I could support myself financially and that my goofy family would support me emotionally when I needed a boost. I had the love of my parents, my siblings, my cousin and my friends (including Jane), all of whom would be there for me no matter what the circ.u.mstance.

And if the only happily-ever-after ending I would ever get in this life would be one I had to create for myself, so be it. I was capable of making come true any dream I wanted.

If I felt the need for a large backyard and an English flower garden, I could sell my modest townhouse and buy something bigger.

If the maternal instinct got too strong, I could go to a sperm bank and order up my own baby. I could!

If the will of the Universe had a destiny in mind for me, I could wedge my heart open to it and face whatever hand I was dealt, with the bravery of a lady warrior.

I adopted "I am woman, oh, Mighty Universe. Hear me chortle!" as my unspoken battle cry.

Looking around the living room at the women of my family, each busily tending to something wedding-related, I was flooded with pride. We were strong and competent. We were making things happen in our world. We weren't allowing ourselves to be paralyzed by old fears until it was too late. No. We could roll with any changes that got hurled our way and positively influence our destinies.

And as for me...what a wonder I was. Yes, truly! How sensible I was being about all of this. How levelheaded. How unbelievably healthy. d.a.m.n, what a great att.i.tude I had!

And I was in the midst of congratulating myself on these tremendous feats-and on my sense of personal power-when the doorbell rang again.

"I'll get it," I said, springing up as if buoyed by a jubilant spirit. Or, maybe, by a giant Slinky.

Jane's voice said, Do not open it, Ellie.

I asked her, Why not? but swung the front door open wide before she had a chance to reply.

And, now, here we are.

Fully in the present.

As I stare mutely into the blue eyes of the man on our doorstep.

It takes a moment of this magnitude for me to finally grasp how wrong I'd been about something important.

Because, see, until this very instant, I thought I had a shred of mastery over my life and my destiny when, clearly, the only thing I have is a theory-My Unifying Theory About the Nature of the Universe-which snaps into being, fully formed in my mind.

Simply put, my newfound theory states: The minute a person comes to the erroneous conclusion that he or she controls anything at all in this life, the Universe immediately gets even with the b.l.o.o.d.y idiot.

Let go, Ellie. Just let go of all expectation.

A voice in my head, other than Jane's, says this, and I realize, with no little shock, that it's my own voice.

So, miraculously, even if it's only for a second, I let go.

"Hi, Sam," I say finally, amazed by the calm flow of these words out of my mouth.

"Hi, Ellie," he says with a tight smile. He's holding a lovely bouquet of autumn-colored flowers, his knuckles white around the wrapping. "I heard there was going to be a Barnett wedding this weekend. Congratulations to...everyone."

He thrusts the bouquet into my hands, and I have no choice but to accept it. Then I stare at him some more.

I don't understand why he's here, and I realize I may never understand this or anything else. That I can't comprehend the Grand Plan, but I can try to handle whatever happens as it comes to me. Moment by moment.

"Why don't you invite the gentleman inside," my mom suggests, motioning for Sam to come in and yanking the flowers out of my grasp. She pa.s.ses them off to Lyssa. "Put these in water, will you, dear?"

As my cousin's daughter disappears into the kitchen, I manage to step back so Sam can enter the house, but I can't quite stop gaping at him. "Everyone, this is Sam," I inform them at last, my eyes never leaving his face.

"Wait. Sam Blaine?" Angelique says, her voice rising up an octave, her expression so stunned she lets the triplet she's chasing slip away from her momentarily.

"I-um, yes," Sam says, looking perplexed and rather worried at the instant name recognition, but he extends his hand to her politely. "Have we met?"

Angelique laughs. "I'm Ellie and Di's cousin. And, yes. We met ages ago at a high-school dance. It's been about, hmm...close to twenty years now." She pauses and waits for the memory to catch up with him. "I remember you really well, Sam."

His brow furrows and the color slowly seeps away from his face. "Uh, Angelique, right?"

"Exactement," she says in her always-impeccable French. "And have you met Alex? The groom?"

Sam swallows, shakes his head and gives Di's fiance a dark nod.

Alex sets down his dessert bowl and offers his hand. "Nice meeting you," he says with an ice-cream-mustache grin.

Sam grasps Alex's hand briefly and, just as quickly, lets it drop. "Yeah," he says back.

A moment of morgue-like silence follows.

Then Mom begins to chatter about how wonderful it is that Angelique, Leo, Nadia, Gregory and all their kids could fly out here for the wedding and how excited everyone is about it and how there are a million last-minute details and how she and Di and I have been running around trying to take care of everything but, oh, what a joy it is to see a daughter so happily married.

Sam's expression turns, if possible, even darker and tighter than before. His gaze trains on Alex with the chill of a Siberian hailstorm.

I catch a glimpse of Di, her brown eyes round with incredulity. Then, suddenly, she laughs.

Everyone transfers their stares to her.

She strides up to Sam and whacks him on the back with what I know is intended, theoretically, to be a friendly gesture, but gentleness was never Di's forte.

"Don't know how well you remember me, Sam," she says. "I'm Diana, Ellie's older sister." Then she pauses until she's sure she has Sam's attention and mine, too. "I'm the bride."

I watch as the lightness floods back into Sam's face. His gaze darts between my sister, her fiance, and me for a full five seconds. Then he grins. "I'm delighted to hear that."

"Thought you might be," Di whispers, her voice low enough that only Sam and I can catch the words. It's then that I realize he came here thinking I was the bride.

Jane gasps, but says nothing else. I think she's been stunned into silence. This, I know, won't last long.

Then Di says, louder now, "Alex and I are getting remarried."

Sam shoots a warm smile at my sister, extending it to Alex also. "That's wonderful."

"Isn't it?" Mom says. "Dated for two years the first time. Married for almost five. Divorced for...well, too long. And now soon-to-be-married again. It's so romantic!"

"Yes, it is," Sam says agreeably.

"So, you're an old friend of Ellie's?" Mom asks.

"Yeah, but I've probably chosen a bad time to visit, what with everything you've all got to do. I was just hoping to talk with her for a few minutes."

"Oh, she's free now," Mom says with a breezy wave. "We've done everything we can do for today, and Di and Alex were about to leave anyway." She lets her gaze wash over Sam with no attempt to disguise her scrutiny. "So, what are you doing these days? Do you live in the area?"

"Not at present. I did my residency out in Boston and I'm still there, but I hope to be on staff at Chicago General soon."

"So, you're a doctor?" Mom says, every note in her voice also saying how impressed she is by this little tidbit of good fortune. "Dr. Sam Blaine?"

He nods.

"Well, if you're still here for the weekend, you're welcome to join us for our big celebration. The wedding is at St. Michael's on Sat.u.r.day at two."

Sam glances at me.

I narrow my eyes at him. The Universe may force me to accept its machinations, but I don't have to openly invite chaos. And Sam Blaine has always equaled chaos. The sense of calm I believed I had a few moments ago decides to flee.

He begins to shake his head. "Thanks, Mrs. Barnett, but-"

Di jumps in. "Oh, yes! You must come. Please. The more the merrier." She throws a devilish smirk my way then nudges Alex. "Right, honey?"

Alex shoots me a quizzical look and, since I'm plainly trying to signal him to say No! Not a good idea, he's justifiably confused. But he won't go against the fervent wishes of his repeat bride. "R-Right," he tells Sam.