Chapter Nine

Standing inside the massive bedroom closet, Jazz surveyed her choices. Another day of wearing someone else’s clothes. True, the clothes did fit, but they were so boring they made her yawn. There were no rainbow colors in this wardrobe, only navy, cream, and an occasional brown. Didn’t Louisa have one adventuresome bone in her body?

It was a cool day, and Jazz longed for a red sweater, or something with fun trim that would shoot sparkles of color across a room, or a collar of feathers that floated around her neck.

“What are you doing?” Madison padded into the closet.

“Trying to find something fun to wear.” Jazz held a cream satin shirt to her chest—fun fabric, but still didn’t come close to her style. This blouse was too dressy. She hung it back on the rod.

“Like what?”

“Anything with color or even stripes would be nice.” She shoved a hanger holding a navy-blue T-shirt to the side. “Boring.” Jazz sighed one more time and pulled a plain white T-shirt from the closet along with a navy skirt.

“Mom says one should always stick to buying the classics.” Madison stroked the dress next to her as if appreciating the value of the designer.

Jazz stared at Madison for a moment. “You’re the only one who doesn’t think I’m her. I find that refreshing.”

“You look like her, except . . . you smile more,” Madison said, “and you look at people when you talk to them.”

“I don’t think I’ll be smiling today.” With a hand on Madison’s back, she edged her from the closet and into the room. “Your dad is pretty mad at me, or he was last night.” She pulled the shirt over her head, then stepped into the skirt, shimmied it up her legs, and zipped it. “What do you mean I look at people?” she said, realizing Madison had offered her a clue about Louisa’s personality.

Madison flopped across the unmade bed. “I don’t know. It’s just different. Mom talked to lots of people, but she was always doing something else at the same time, like picking up Tim or looking for him or something. You just stop what you’re doing and talk.”

“I should be spending more time watching out for Tim. That’s probably a mom thing I’m supposed to know how to do.” Jazz shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe someday I’ll figure out how to multitask.”

“Maybe,” Madison agreed. “So what happened, anyway?”

“Apparently there’s a Nosy Nelly across the street. She called the police.”

Madison’s eyes widened. “What’s it like to be arrested?”

“Scary. I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“What did Dad say?” Madison’s voice sounded a bit fearful.

Jazz sank down on the bed next to Madison. “He said I broke the law and had to pay the penalty. His mouth didn’t even move, just stayed in a straight line.”

“That means he’s really mad. You probably shouldn’t get too close to him today. That’s what I do when he’s mad. I stay far, far away from him,” Madison said. “Sometimes it helps if you clean your room.”

“That might be hard for me to do. I can’t hide in the bedroom all day.” She rooted through the dresser for a scarf or a belt to brighten her outfit. “And I’m not cleaning anything.”

“We could go shopping,” Madison said. “Then you could get some clothes you like.”

“Do you know how to get to the mall?” Jazz slammed the drawer shut with her hip. Her heart pounded at the thrill of the hunt for new clothes. Clothes that shouted “Jazz.”

“We could ask Laurie to go with us. But let’s leave Tim and Joey home with Dad,” Madison said as she tugged the hem of her nightgown over her feet.

“I think that’s a great idea. We’ll have ourselves a girls’ day out.” Jazz slid her feet into a pair of sandals. Remembering how angry Laurie was last night when the police put them in the car, she said, “I think it would be better to go to the mall by ourselves.”

“If it’s girls’ day out, we won’t get arrested, will we?” Madison asked.

“Not planning on it. I don’t think your father will bail me out twice in one weekend. Go get dressed and meet me downstairs.” She shooed Madison out of the room and tromped down the stairs to the kitchen. She found Collin sitting at the counter, drinking his coffee and flipping through the sports page. “Good morning, Counselor.”

“Is it? At least you didn’t make the newspaper.” Collin picked up his cup, then set it back down. “Do you know how embarrassing this will be for me at the firm? It might hurt my chance of becoming partner.”

“Just remind them I’m not really your wife and you can’t control my behavior,” Jazz said.

“I don’t think they’ll believe me.” He flipped another page.

“Madison and I are going to do some shopping today.” She wished he would at least look at her. Or maybe it’s better he doesn’t. His rough morning beard begged her to reach over and pat his face. What would it be like to kiss a man with a scratchy face? Would it leave marks on her skin? She felt the heat in her cheeks and was thankful Collin wasn’t looking at her. I’ve got to get a grip on reality. He is not my husband—he belongs to Louisa. She grabbed a glass from the cabinet and shoved it under the filtered-water dispenser on the front of the fridge.

“What about Tim and Joey?” he asked.

Jazz took a sip of the ice-cold water and felt more in control of her feelings. She glanced over her shoulder at him. “You can watch them. Do some boy stuff, like practice casting with one of those fishing rods you have stored in the garage, or how about kicking the soccer ball around in the park?”

He peered at her over the top of the paper. “I don’t take care of the kids on the weekend. Louisa always watches them so I can have some free time.” He looked at her sheepishly. “She insists.”

“No wonder she took a vacation from you, Collin.” Her words held a touch of anger, and it surprised her. “Please, could you give me directions to the nearest retail-therapy center?” She attempted to soften her attitude with a gentle tone.

“What are you going to use for money?”

Jazz smiled her sweetest smile. “Louisa’s credit card.”

“Don’t spend a lot on clothes. There’s too many in the closet now,” Collin said.

Jazz shook off his warning. What did he know about clothes and how many a woman needed, anyway? “I’ll pay you back as soon—”

“—as you remember where you live. I know,” Collin grumbled as he found a paper by the telephone and wrote out the directions to the mall. “Like that will ever happen.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Just don’t be gone all day.”

“I’m sure you and the boys will be fine.”

“But can you handle Madison?”

“Why couldn’t I?” Jazz turned and stared at him. “I can’t imagine how hard it could be to shop with her.”

“She doesn’t need anything,” Collin said.

“Need has nothing to do with shopping, dear.” Jazz cocked her head and threw him a grin as she scooped up her pass to retail heaven. “Madison, let’s rock,” she hollered up the stairs.

Madison came barreling down. She had parted her hair in several directions and then braided a small piece, which she’d clipped into a loop on the side.

At least Louisa’s daughter had some personality. “Nice hair,” Jazz said, realizing her own blonde locks lacked excitement. Apparently Louisa liked wearing her hair in a classic style to match her classic clothes.

“Thanks.” Madison’s mouth formed a perfect perky smile. “I think it’s awesome.”

“It is.” Jazz paused in the open door to the garage. “Let’s take the convertible.” She scooped Collin’s key ring off the rack, leaving Louisa’s in place.

“Dad’s car?” Madison spoke in a whisper.

“Yeah.” Jazz loved the excitement on Madison’s face.

“But we never get to go in Dad’s car. He doesn’t let us.” Madison looked back at the kitchen with a worried expression.

“Suit yourself, but I’m going in that car. We need to leave the van in case your dad has to take the boys somewhere.” Jazz opened the driver’s door of the sports car and slid behind the wheel. “Coming?”

Madison’s blue eyes sparkled like sapphires. “Oh yeah. This is so cool! Wait until Hannah finds out.”

Jazz stuck the key in the ignition, and the engine jumped to life with the low rumble of a tiger. “It is. It’s better than cool.” She shifted the car into gear and backed out of the garage.

* * *

Inside the dressing room, Jazz pulled a bright red and orange knit dress over her head. She patted her hair into place. Then, not liking the look, she tousled it. She admired the fit from all angles. Definitely a great dress. She’d take it and the others she’d brought in with her. She couldn’t wait to begin wearing these clothes. The short T-shirt made her belly look flat. All she needed was a tan and maybe a diamond in her navel. No more cream and navy for her. She sighed in happiness. She felt like herself again. Had it only been a week that she’d been living Louisa’s life?

She gathered the clothes and left the dressing room to search for Madison. She found her at the jewelry rack. “Find anything?”

“Yeah, can I get my belly button pierced?” Madison looked at her expectantly.

“Um.” What was she supposed to say to that? Hadn’t she been considering doing that very thing in the dressing room? But she wasn’t twelve, and Madison was. “Do your friends have pierced belly buttons?”

“No. I want to be the first.” She held one ring in each hand, alternating them over her T-shirt where her belly button was.

“What would your dad say?” Jazz felt her foot begin to tap—a nervous habit she now recognized as a sign that she was in over her head. Or maybe it was a message from Louisa, letting her know this was unacceptable.

“Dad wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t even notice. We don’t have to tell him, do we?” Madison pleaded with wide eyes.

“So if we don’t tell him, it means he wouldn’t like it, right?”

“Probably not.” Madison frowned and slapped the belly button rings back on the wire hanger. The wall of jewelry trembled with her disappointment. “I knew you wouldn’t let me do it. You act like you’re all cool and stuff, but you’re just like my mom.”

“Whoa. Where did that come from?”

“Well, you weren’t going to let me, were you?”

“No, but I think we can find something else to make you happy if we try.” Jazz wondered just what would be appropriate for a preteen and yet acceptable to parents.

“Like what?”

“Give me some ideas, Madison. This is all foreign territory for me.” Maybe she should try distraction. She’d researched that parenting tip for one of her books, but she couldn’t remember if it worked or not. “I don’t suppose you want to go to the bookstore?”

“No way.” Madison stuck her lip into the pout position Jazz had become familiar with.

“Music?”

“A new iPod?” Madison jutted her chin a few inches higher as if to say she would bargain, but it wouldn’t be cheap.

“What’s wrong with yours?”

“It’s not the newest one. And I want a purple one.”

“We can look at them, but no promise that we’ll get one.” At least they had moved away from permanent alteration of Madison’s body.

“But if I have it, I’ll be the coolest kid at the party.”

“Party?”

“I didn’t ask Dad yet. I thought you could ask him for me.”

“Are there going to be boys there?” Now where had that come from? She didn’t think she had a parental bone in her body, but that was a parent thought if she’d ever had one. It must have been a leftover from her childhood.

Madison headed for a circle rack of hooded shirts. She gathered a hem in her hand. Her attitude screamed, Act casual and the parent won’t figure it out. “Just a few boys. Only the cool ones are invited.”

The cool ones? That sounded like trouble to Jazz. The phrase “He’s such a bad boy but so desirable” came to her. Had she written that? “Whose house is it at?”

“Hannah’s. Her parents will be there. She’s going to be thirteen, and they said she could have a DJ. I just have to go, Jazz! You can call Hannah’s mom if you want to.” Madison’s attitude of It doesn’t matter to me melted into desperation. “I just have to be there!”

“When is this party?”

“In a few weeks because Hannah was born around Halloween.”

“So it’s a Halloween party? I don’t . . .” Jazz hesitated. The idea of the mischief-making that went along with Halloween made her nervous about telling Madison she could go. She remembered the TP incident all too well. Even worse, she didn’t know how Louisa felt. So for now, she didn’t think a Halloween party would be a great idea.

“No, it’s not! It’s not going to be a costume thing or anything.”

“I’ll call Hannah’s mom, and then we’ll talk to your dad.” Jazz hoped this was the right way to handle it. “Let’s find something to wear to the party that doesn’t put plugs in your ears. You do want to talk to people, right?”

“Yeah. I won’t be able to hear anything unless I leave out one of the earbuds. Thanks!” Madison surprised Jazz with a quick impromptu hug.

“You’re welcome, but we’re going to the bookstore afterward.” I’m going to look for a book on adolescent behavior. There must be some kind of manual for raising teenagers. She’d seen ones for pregnant women; surely there would be a useful one on what to do once the kids arrived. She could count it as a research book because once Louisa returned, Jazz knew she had a great story to write. And if she doesn’t return? That thought kept nudging her more than she liked. Why couldn’t she remember? Why didn’t she want to? And why did it seem so important that she did?

* * *

Tim and Joey squatted on the kitchen chairs, arguing over the ketchup bottle. Collin had taken them for burgers and fries, but instead of eating at the fast food establishment, he had thought they could eat at home. Since it took them forever to eat French fries, he figured he’d have a few minutes of peace. The phone had rung the minute they walked in the door, though, and he’d just tossed the bags on the table for the two of them to have at it.

His mother-in-law repeated her question. “Do you think I should come and stay with you until she gets better?”

“I don’t know, Beth. Let me talk to her about it when she gets home.” He snapped his fingers, and when the boys looked his way, he glared at them and pointed at the ketchup bottle. They sat down in their chairs. Quite pleased with his ability to calm the sibling battle, Collin returned to the conversation. “I’ve been giving her things to smell, but so far no memories, good or bad, have sprung into her mind.”

“I want it first!” Tim shouted

“I’m the oldest; I get it first!” Joey scrambled over the table and grabbed it from Tim.

Shocked, Collin ended his phone call with a promise to call back later. “What is wrong with the two of you?” He strode toward the table, intent on seizing the ketchup bottle.

“It’s mine,” Tim yelled.

Joey knocked Tim’s hand to the table and planted a knee on the bottle to claim victory. Tim jerked his hand away, and Joey put enough pressure on the bottle to send a blood-red ooze shooting through the air and landing on Collin’s shirt.

The boys dropped to their seats, eyes wide and open-mouthed as Collin inspected the damage to his favorite shirt. His first impulse was to yell. Two weeks ago he would have, and he would have sentenced them to their rooms for such behavior. No, that wasn’t true. Two weeks ago he wouldn’t even have been spending time with the boys on a Saturday.

“Dad?” Tim’s voice quivered. “Are we in big trouble?”

He didn’t like the looks on his sons’ faces; they knew he wasn’t the fun parent. He was the parent who was all work and no play. But Jazz had shown him how to have fun again. “No, you aren’t in trouble, Tim, but Joey,” he said with a grin, “you are, and I’m going to get you!” His laughter was low and evil. “You have five seconds to get away.”

Before he made it to two, Joey was off the table and at a run. Tim followed. Both boys were laughing as they hit the stairs.

“You can’t catch us, Dad. You’re too old!” Joey called from midway up the stairs.

“Old! I’m not old! You’d better run faster because I’m right behind you!” Collin double-timed it up the steps. The boys made it to Joey’s room. They slammed the door behind them, and Collin heard their small bodies rasping against the door as they held it shut. He jiggled the handle. “Foiled by two small boys. Come out, little boys, come out and play.”

“No!” they yelled in unison.

“We’re never coming out,” Tim said with a giggle.

One more jiggle of the handle and Collin grinned. “I’ve been beat by two boys who must have secret powers to defeat someone as strong as me. I give up.” He waited.

“We aren’t falling for that, Dad,” Joey said. “We aren’t going to open the door until you go away.”

“I’m leaving right now.” He stepped away from the door. “It’s been a treat, but I have to change shirts.” He couldn’t stop the grin on his face until he entered his closet. The smell reminded him of his college dorm room. A mountain of dirty clothes littered the floor. It looked as if laundry hadn’t been done since Jazz had arrived.

Collin stooped over to look for his second-favorite weekend shirt. He lifted a few of the shirts from the pile until he saw the faded image of a brown tail. He retrieved his Scooby-Doo T-shirt and sniffed under the arms. Not too bad. Still wearable.

He heard laughter and started to rise when he was bowled over by two tiny warriors. He wrestled with his sons on the floor until he had them pinned. “You came into the dragon’s lair, you wicked urchins. Now you will pay!” He brought his hand above them and formed a claw. “Tickle Monster will now perform a symphony on two male bellies.” He dropped his hand to Tim’s stomach, walked the fingers to the side, and began to tickle him. Tim shrieked with laughter. Joey tried to roll over and make a getaway, but Collin stopped him with his other hand. He curled the boy to his side and began tickling him, too.

“Stop, Daddy, stop!” Tim had tears coming from his eyes from laughing so hard.

Collin relented and let them both go. “The dragon is tired. I want a solemn promise to be peaceable at the kitchen table from now on. Do I have your word, small boys? Or do I need to go in for another attack?” He raised his hand.

“I promise!” Joey shouted.

“Me too!” Tim scampered far from his dad.

“Good, you may go, then.” He could see the ketchup from his shirt had made an impression on theirs as well. “Change your shirts before you go back downstairs.”

He pulled his own dirty shirt over his head. He glanced at the red spot smeared like a chest wound on the front. He knew he should do something so it wouldn’t stain, but he wasn’t sure what, so he tossed it on the pile of clothes at his feet.

His connection with his boys may have improved, but everything else seemed to be falling apart since Jazz arrived. He missed Louisa. He hadn’t realized how well she had kept the house running. If only there was a way to get her back, return their life to the way it was. He craved his old routine.

“Dad, I can’t find any socks,” Joey said, decked out in his favorite soccer shirt. He stood in the doorway, shadowed by his brother. “And Tim doesn’t have any clean shirts.”

“Didn’t your mother do any laundry this week?” Collin grumbled.

“Nope. We didn’t have laundry day.” Tim’s eyes were barely visible under the visor of his prized Rams hat. “Jazz wrote me a story instead.”

Great, even Tim referred to Louisa as Jazz. He had to find a way to bring her back. The kids needed her. He needed her.

“Gather your dirty clothes, boys. Take them downstairs to the laundry room, and we’ll do them. I think I still know how to turn on the washing machine.”

Collin watched the boys back out of the room with wonder on their faces. Heaven knew what they were thinking. “Probably that you’ve lost your mind,” Collin mumbled to himself as he turned back to the pile. He bent down and began to gather the stack when he noticed the closet wall seemed to have a hole in it. He bent down for another look. It wasn’t a hole but rather a hidden cubby. The hem of a shirt was caught on the corner of the door. That would explain why it didn’t shut. His wrestling with the boys must have pulled it the rest of the way open.

Why didn’t he know about this? Did Louisa have this installed or did it come with the house? Maybe she didn’t know it was there either. What was on the other side of this wall? He thought about it and remembered the shallow linen closet. That meant this hidey hole had to be a pretty good size. Good for hiding Christmas presents or valuables. That made sense; it probably came with the house. He stuck his hand inside and felt the side of a box. He slid it out onto the closet floor.

It was labeled Private Journals. He started to open it, then hesitated. No, he wouldn’t read them. She would be angry if he did. He shoved the box back where he found it. She must have put them there to keep them out of Madison’s hands. Or mine, he thought.

He’d leave them there. Collin had always respected Louisa’s privacy. He fingered the edge of the lid and couldn’t help but wonder—what had she written? How many journals could that box hold? His fingers started to lift the lid, but he pulled them back. No, he shouldn’t. It wasn’t like Louisa had died, after all. She was just mentally missing, and he didn’t have the right to read these without her permission. He gathered the clothes and gave the box one more thoughtful look, then slid it back into the cubbyhole and closed the door.

* * *

That afternoon Jazz stood in front of the mirror over her dresser. She slid her fingers over the streaks of dark blonde and red. Now that she’d added color she liked it, or most of it—she’d kept the style since she didn’t want to make it any shorter—but the glasses she hated.

Madison came into her room to model her new clothes. Getting into the spirit, Jazz put on her new shirt and pants as well. When she twirled in front of the mirror, her glasses slid down her nose. Jazz pushed the black frames back in place. “I hate these things! Glasses are such a pain. They won’t stay where I need them. And I used to think they were a great fashion accessory.”

“You could put in contacts.” Madison primped in the bedroom mirror. “You have them in the bathroom.”

“I wouldn’t know how to put them in. I can’t imagine sticking my finger in my eye.” Jazz pulled one of Madison’s new earrings away from its plastic holder. “These are really cute. They’ll look great with that shirt.” Her eyes met Madison’s in the mirror.

“Do you think so?”

“Sure, and drop earrings are the thing now.”

“I know.” Madison moved her fingers back and forth against a brush on the dresser. “I guess I have to tell you, or Dad will be mad.”

“What?”

“Mom won’t allow me to wear anything but studs until I’m sixteen.”

“Seriously?”

“Are you going to make me take them back?”

Jazz held the dangling dolphin up to the light to inspect for something that would declare the wearer without virtue. The light caught the tiny blue glass eye, and it seemed like the dolphin winked at her. “I don’t see anything inherently bad about these. They don’t dangle like chandelier earrings, so you shouldn’t get them caught on a comb or your finger. A dolphin is a friendly critter. I mean, it’s not like you chose a pair with skull and crossbones. So the message you would be sending by wearing these could be nothing more than that you like intelligent sea creatures.”

Madison chewed her lip. “Dolphins are my favorite. I just have to have them. They remind me of the ones we saw last summer in the Oceanarium at the Shedd Aquarium.”

Jazz noticed how Madison’s eyes sparkled when she talked about dolphins. “What makes them so special?”

“Did you know that every dolphin makes unique sounds like we do?” Madison warmed to her subject. “And they don’t have vocal cords. They help people in the ocean sometimes too. So can I have them?”

“I proclaim this particular pair worthy of Madison Copeland’s ears.” Jazz handed them to her. “Wear them and enjoy them.”

“But what if you remember being Mom and you don’t remember you told me I could wear these? You might ground me.”

“I hadn’t thought about that. What do you think we should do, just in case?”

“Maybe you could write me a permission slip.”

“Excellent idea.” Jazz grabbed her notebook from the nightstand and began to write. Madison Copeland has my permission to wear her dolphin earrings whenever she desires. With a flourish she signed her name, Jazz Sweet, aka Louisa Copeland. She capped her pen and tore the sheet from the spiral spine. “Here you go. Put it somewhere safe.”

Madison read the note to herself. She gave Jazz a huge grin. “I’ll be right back. I’m putting this in my jewelry box.”