21
Later that day, as Jane drove up Highway 52 on her way back to Minneapolis, she watched a bank of dark clouds approach the Cities from the west. When she turned on the radio to get the forecast, she was informed that most of the southern part of the state was under a tornado watch until midnight. She’d been expecting a storm. All the heat and humidity pretty much guaranteed it. By the time she turned onto her street, the wind had picked up and the sky had turned that shade of yellow-gray she knew meant trouble. An instant later, the city sirens started wailing.
Up ahead, Georgia Dietrich, Avi’s detestable roommate, had just emerged from the front door of Jane’s house. “Screw that,” she whispered, indulging in the inevitable moment of teeth grinding.
As Georgia backed her way down the sidewalk, she blew kisses until she reached her car. To Jane’s knowledge, Georgia had never come over before, although what happened when she was away was anybody’s guess. Jane wanted to trust Avi—desperately wanted to—but something inside her always fought the idea. It was probably her own insecurity talking, which upset her because she’d never thought of herself as insecure before. Until now, she’d assumed that Avi spent her days upstairs writing. It annoyed Jane—no, it downright infuriated her—to see Georgia on her property. Okay, so she was jealous. She was human. She was insecure and she was pissed.
Waiting until Georgia had driven away, she parked in the drive and entered the house through the back door. The dogs, tails wagging like turbo-charged metronomes, raced into the kitchen to greet her. “Hey, babes,” she said, crouching down. Mouse nuzzled her hand with his chilly nose, while Gimlet jumped up and down trying to lick her face. She spun around so many times in her utter glee that she fell over. Dogs were so obvious. No subtlety at all. Which was why she loved them. She scratched their backs, rubbed their ears—everything she knew they loved. “Where’s Avi?” she asked, straightening up.
Walking to the bottom of the stairs, she called, “I’m home. You up there?”
“Just a sec,” came Avi’s voice.
“The sirens are going off. We better get to the basement.”
Avi appeared at the top of the steps wearing a football helmet and holding a fifth of Jack Daniel’s. “God, I’m glad you’re home,” she said, trotting down the steps. “Just so you know, I’m terrified of thunderstorms.”
This was news to Jane. “Thus the helmet?”
“Brain protection. If you want, I’ll get you one. When I was a kid, I used to hide under my bed every time there was a storm. Sometimes I’d throw up. It was disgusting.”
“Is that still … a problem?”
“Not so much.”
Once ensconced on the edge of the bathtub in the basement bathroom, with the dogs snugged together on a dog bed Jane had dragged into the room, Avi ripped the plastic off the cap of the whiskey bottle and took a swig. She held it up. “You?”
“Think I’ll pass.”
“Steadies the nerves,” she said, ducking at a crack of thunder.
As the storm raged outside, Jane approached the subject of Georgia. “Hey, you know I, ah … saw Georgia leave as I was driving up.”
“Yeah.” Avi adjusted the strap on the helmet. “She came because of the good news.”
“Good news?”
She took another swig of whiskey. “That agent you told me about? I sent her the new book yesterday, just like I promised. I stopped obsessing and just did it. This morning, I had an e-mail from her saying she’d read it last night. She had several other books scheduled first, but had forgotten to load them onto her iPad. Since she had my e-mail with the attachment, she opened it. Jane, believe it or not, she loved it. Once she’d started reading, she said she couldn’t put it down. She saw the wholeness in my characters, not just the weirdness, the fractures. She seems to really get what I’m trying to do. She wants to represent me. Asked if I had other books she could look at. I’m in, Jane! Thanks to you.” She tried to give Jane a kiss, but the face mask clunked against Jane’s chin.
And Georgia was the one she called, thought Jane. Not her. Great. Just superb.
“Then,” said Avi, taking another swig.
“Slow down with that stuff.”
“Huh? Oh, sure. Anyway, this afternoon, I get a call from a woman—Elaine Ducasse. From Ducasse & Ducasse—it’s a very classy small press in Chicago. She wanted to see the entire manuscript. So, I mean, I said, hell. Sure. I e-mailed it to her. I suppose the agent must have contacted her right away. Can you believe it? I’ve already got a read at a publishing house. It’s not New York, but it’s not Podunk & Sons Press either.”
“That’s incredible.”
“Boy howdy.”
The house shook as more thunder rolled over them.
Avi slid closer to Jane. “Put your arms around me.”
Jane had no trouble handling that request.
“You’re not frightened of thunderstorms?” asked Avi.
“Well, I don’t exactly love them. We’ll be okay.”
“Sure we will.”
Waiting a beat, Jane said, “Why did you tell Georgia your good news and not me?”
“What? Oh, now don’t get all bent out of shape. I was on the phone with her when I got the e-mail. Then I got busy looking at other manuscripts, deciding what I should or shouldn’t send. Out of the blue, she stopped by a few minutes later to congratulate me.” Nuzzling closer to Jane, she added, “Come on, I knew I’d see you tonight.”
Jane didn’t say anything, mainly because she wasn’t sure how she felt.
“Georgia’s restful to be around,” said Avi. “She’s predictable. I like that.”
“I’m not restful?”
Tipping Jane’s face toward her, she said, “Anything but. On the other hand, you are midwestern.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“I used to think it was bad, but now I see it differently.”
“Care to elaborate?”
“For one thing, you say what you mean. You don’t do double entendres. You’re not a cynic about everything in the universe. You don’t strike poses for effect. That isn’t to say you aren’t hard to read sometimes.”
“No harder than you are.”
She took another swallow. “Here’s the thing. I have to be sure this time. I create people for a living—or, for what I hope will be a living one day. The problem is, I don’t just do it in my books. I’ve always fallen in love way too easily. When I do, I stop seeing who the person really is and instead, I make them fit what I need.”
“Wish I’d met you before you reformed.”
“No, this is better. I think you could be the real thing, Jane. The one who lasts. But I have to make sure I’m not simply seeing what I want to see. I want the same things you do—to love and be loved, a love given freely. Honestly. What I don’t want is more neurotic need that comes from chronic dissatisfaction with my screwed-up life.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I can wait. I wish you’d move in with me.” Jettison Georgia forever, she might have added, but didn’t.
“Nope. I need to be able to get away. That’s a bottom line for me right now.”
“You look ridiculous in that football helmet.”
“I know. You’ll get used to it.”
The house rattled through another clap of thunder.
Avi all but jumped into Jane’s lap. So did Gimlet.
“Take my mind off this storm,” said Avi, drawing Gimlet into her arms and cuddling her close. “Anything new on the Winfield front?”
Jane brought her up to speed, ending with Matt Steinhauser. “When I was at the farmhouse this morning, he roared up in his squad car looking totally frazzled. I mean, red-faced, dark circles under his eyes, like he hadn’t slept in a decade. He’s been removed from the case.” She explained about Steinhauser screaming at Gabriel after a Little League game. “He’s got a bad temper. In fact, he got so hot under the collar about being taken off the case that his first thought was to drive out to the farm to take it out on Eric.”
“Not exactly professional.”
Not at all, thought Jane as the lights flickered. “Here we go,” she said, knowing what would happen next.
A moment later, all electricity to the house died.
“There’s a flashlight in that drawer next to you,” said Jane.
Removing her helmet, Avi let it drop to the floor. Taking one last swig from the bottle of Jack Daniel’s, she said, “I have achieved mellow. Let’s enjoy the dark, what do you say?” She ran a finger down the front of Jane’s shirt. “And say hello properly.”
Jane didn’t need to be coaxed.