Mind of Her Own (7 page)

Jazz smiled as she wrote a check to Cleaning Maniacs. She hesitated only a moment before signing the unfamiliar name Louisa Copeland on the signature line. She ripped the check from the book and handed it to the woman waiting by the door. “So I’ll see you next Tuesday, Joy.” Jazz inhaled the smell of the clean house.

Tim tugged on her hand. “Can I have my snack now?”

“You have to eat it in the kitchen today.”

“But I always get to eat in front of the TV.”

“Not anymore, bucko. Rules are a-changing around here. This house is going to stay picked up and clean, and not by me. At least this room is.” Jazz wondered what Collin would say when he walked into a picture-perfect living room. When, though, was the question. He’d come home late last night, after she already had Tim and Joey in bed.

“I don’t like the new rule. It’s like the old rules. Madison and Joey won’t like it either.”

Jazz bent down to Tim’s eye level. “You don’t have to like it. You just have to follow it.”

“Are you going to change the lasagna rule too?”

“I called Laurie while you were upstairs, and she told me about a wonderful restaurant that delivers.” After telling Jazz what she needed to know, Laurie told her to make sure no one knew she planned to order eggplant lasagna if she wanted anyone to eat it.

“Nope, I have that covered. In fact—” she checked the clock on the mantel—“dinner should be arriving from Augustino’s any minute now.”

“What’s an ‘astino’?” Tim’s upturned nose made her smile.

“I’m not sure. It’s a restaurant, like the Italian restaurant on the hill.”

Tim’s eyebrows scrunched together.

“Laurie told me about it. I don’t know where the hill is either. Tim, do you think the restaurant is on top of a real hill?”

“Maybe.” Tim nodded. “We could go there sometime and see.”

The front door opened, splashing sunshine on the floor as Madison bounced through, her hair bobbing in time to some band playing on her iPod. Joey followed, dragging his backpack on the floor behind him.

“Stop!” Jazz pointed her finger at the two as they prepared to leave their backpacks on the floor. “Carry those to the kitchen.”

“We have different rules.” Tim’s hands were anchored to his hips as he imitated Jazz. “We have a new mom, and she says things have to be done her way.”

“Well, I’m not doing anything her way,” Madison said. She stomped off to the staircase without a backward glance. As she climbed she called over her shoulder, “I’ll be doing my homework in my room, not the kitchen. Do not bother me.” She disappeared upstairs. Her bedroom door connected solidly with the doorframe.

At the slam of the door, Jazz grimaced. “Joey? You okay with homework in the kitchen?”

“I don’t care.” Joey’s shoulders drooped as he made his way to the kitchen.

The realization of how difficult this must be for the kids stunned her. They missed Louisa, the mom they were used to. Shocked by the sudden pain of their hurt, she didn’t know how to help them understand, not when she couldn’t figure out how Louisa became Jazz. Maybe if she tried to act more like Louisa, it would help give them a sense of security. Next week at Laurie’s sleepover, she planned to take a notebook, ask questions, and get this right. God had entrusted her with these lives, and she would not mess up. After all, it might be the only time in her life she would get to be a mom.

Jazz went outside to play with Tim and Cleo, or rather Jazz let them play while she watched from the fabulous deck. Tim threw a huge rope through the air, and Cleo ran after it, grasped it in her big jaws, and brought it back to Tim. She didn’t drop it at his feet, though. Tim would reach for it, and Cleo would back up two steps. Eventually Tim would be lucky enough to catch the raveled ends of the thick braid and would yell, “Drop.” Then Cleo would give it up, spin in circles, and the game would start over.

Even though it was fall and they’d had some cool days, today held only comforting warmth. She curled up in a chair, feeling quite satisfied that dinner waited in the oven. She had successfully managed to get Joey and Madison to work on their homework. Motherhood wasn’t as hard as it looked.

Jazz opened the browser on Louisa’s cell phone. All she had to do was check Amazon for her books and google her name for a list of all the interviews she’d given. But she’d been stalling all day. Why? She didn’t know—maybe she didn’t want to leave this idyllic little family. She could learn a lot here; there was nothing compared to hands-on research. And having a husband that looked like Collin was a definite bonus. But then again, he wasn’t really hers, was he?

Maybe she could put it off another day.

Madison screeched from inside the house. “I’m telling!”

Battle seemed to be forthcoming, and Jazz shuddered. She had no desire to have any part of it. She’d do it now. One by one, online bookstores came back with suggested titles, none of them hers. Three search engines revealed nothing, and even Wikipedia was blank. She looked up some Christian bookstores and dialed the numbers, but the response to her question, “Do you have any books by the author Jazz Sweet?” was always the same—no such person existed. Discouraged and somewhat alarmed, Jazz swallowed back tears. Maybe they didn’t look hard enough. Maybe they were too busy to check the shelves or the computer. That had to be the reason they didn’t know her books were there.

The next time she went to the mall, she would look for herself.
And if they aren’t there? What will I do?

* * *

Dinner
and
disaster
were two words that didn’t go together, but when Jazz pulled the lasagna from the oven, it was clear that tonight they would. Collin arrived home much later than he’d said, and the lasagna had shriveled in the pan. She tried cutting it into small serving pieces, thinking maybe with a salad and bread they could “make do,” as her mother would say. She discovered there was no tender giving of the pasta, so she pushed down on the knife with both hands and it broke through. The eggplant had the texture of those navy Crocs Louisa seemed fond of.

Collin perched on a stool at the counter behind her, flipping through the newspaper. “It smells good. I’m sorry I’m late.”

“The smell is all we’re going to enjoy. I don’t think even Cleo could chew this stuff.” Jazz tossed the pan of food into the trash. She whirled around and flashed him a grin. “So let’s get ice cream for dinner.”

Collin dropped the paper to the counter. “Ice cream, for dinner?”

“Why not? It has calcium—probably more than this lasagna. And as a bonus, the kids will no doubt enjoy it more.” Jazz didn’t wait for him to refute her logic. She strode into the family room. “Anyone interested in a waffle cone for dinner tonight?”

Tim and Joey thundered past her to the back door, ready to leave in case grown-up minds regained their senses. Madison hunched over on the couch.

“Madison? Wouldn’t you rather have ice cream than vegetable lasagna for dinner?” Jazz sat next to her on the couch.

“No. I can eat a sandwich. Can I stay home alone?” Madison looked at Jazz with the innocence of a street urchin.

Jazz could feel what she had declared her “Louisa twitch” in her eyebrow. “Not a chance, girly girl. It’s ice-cream dinner for the entire Copeland family tonight. Get your shoes on and join the family.”

Madison gave her a frown that would frighten a killer into confessing. “I said I don’t want to go.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s not a choice.” Jazz waited for Madison to get off the couch before she joined her. “Besides, how long can it take from your busy schedule? Those boys will down their cones fast, and you’ll be back in time for whatever text-messaging event you have scheduled.”

Once in the van, Jazz empathized with Madison, stuck in the back with her brothers. The van seemed much smaller with the entire family spilled across the back. Madison probably thought staying home alone sounded more appealing than an evening riding in the back with her brothers.

Maybe I should have stayed home too,
she thought,
where it would have been quiet.
The noise from the back was becoming unbearable. “Are we almost there, Collin?”

“It’s right around the corner. You’re frowning. Does your head hurt?” Collin reached over and stroked the back of her head. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea tonight?”

She didn’t want to admit it, but Collin’s hand on her hair drained the tension from her. “It hurts a little, but I’ll be okay. I imagine it’s good for the children to do something normal.”

“This isn’t normal.” Collin spoke so low, Jazz almost didn’t hear him.

“Why isn’t it?” She dropped her voice to match his level.

“I’m usually at work until seven, sometimes later.” Collin parked in front of Sweet Smiles Ice Creamery.

“That’s terrible. It’s exactly why I never married and had children. I knew I couldn’t have a career and a family.”

“Good for you, but
my
family has to eat, and Louisa appreciates the chance to stay home with the kids instead of working.”

“You think she doesn’t work? She raises your kids alone, like a single parent. Better rethink your statement, Counselor.”

“I know she works hard. I didn’t mean she doesn’t work; it’s just that she doesn’t work for a paycheck. How about you? Do you make enough in royalties that you don’t have to take other types of jobs?” He grinned. “Like being a nanny?”

“Funny man. I’ve never been a nanny. I think—or thought—I made a lot of money, but then I couldn’t find my books online. I even called some bookstores today, and they didn’t have any of my books.” She sighed. “But that’s probably just a mistake.”

“How many places did you call?”

“Five, including the ones in St. Louis County.”

“That many? And you really think all the clerks in all those stores couldn’t find even one of the books you’ve written?”

“They might not even have taken the time to look.” Weariness mushroomed in her head. She was beginning to doubt she was a famous author, or an author at all, but that didn’t make her Collin’s wife, did it? She wrestled with that thought for a moment.

“Are we going in or not?” Madison asked with a perfect teenage attitude.

“Yes. Help Tim get out of his seat, please,” Collin said. He put the van in park and turned off the engine. The doors automatically unlocked.

Jazz pushed the button to slide open the side door of the van. Warmth from outside rushed in, displacing the cool air-conditioning. “It’s still great weather for ice cream. Let’s go, everybody. Double scoops in waffle cones!”

Once inside, Jazz looked at the quaint interior, filled with old-fashioned ice cream tables and chairs. It looked like a place to bring a date. She wondered why Collin would want to bring her and the kids here. Why not go to the Lick and Drip in the strip mall close to their house? They’d passed right by it on their way here.

The glass-fronted freezers held an array of flavors in big tubs. Jazz pursed her lips. She didn’t know which to choose. She didn’t feel adventuresome today, so she would pick “old reliable,” the one that had brought her through many trials.

“Ice cream parlors have such a unique smell, don’t they? Like cookies and childhood rolled into one.” Collin interrupted her thoughts.

Jazz inhaled. “It does smell good in here, but I’m not sure I feel the same as you. Let’s see, I’d describe it as a place where vanilla cools the sunburn from a day at the pool.”

“Not bad, pretty much what I said. You just said it more descriptively. Is butter pecan still your favorite?”

“No. I don’t think so. I like mint chocolate chip.” Jazz tried to read the puzzled look on Collin’s face. “Let me guess. Louisa hates mint chocolate chip?”

“‘Anything green and frozen can’t taste right’ was her phrase,” said Collin.

“Fine. I’ll get the butter pecan. Maybe it will bring back my other personality.”

“Get whatever you want.”

“Are you really going to order ice cream?” Joey tugged on her shirt hem.

“Why not? I love ice cream, don’t you?”

“I like ice cream, but, Mom, you almost never get any ’cause it makes your hips big.”

Jazz caught Collin’s gaze on her. He was holding back a smile, or maybe a laugh; she wasn’t sure. She ignored him and bent down to Joey’s level. “Will you still love me if my hips get bigger?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I’ll have two scoops. Joey, since I’m being brave about my hips, what kinds of ice cream do you think I should get?”

“Bubble gum and cookie dough. They’re the best.”

“You’re sure?” Jazz wondered how frozen gum could be a treat.

“Yes. Are you going to get the same ice cream as me?” Joey looked at her with awe.

Jazz stood. “I’ll have one scoop of bubble gum and one of cookie dough, please, in a waffle cone,” she said to the shiny-faced clerk behind the counter.

The five of them sat at one of the round tables. Jazz felt odd as the children watched her finish her ice cream right down to the last piece of the cone.

“You did it,” said Joey. “Just like you said.”

She blew a big bubble with the gum and let it pop. “Good choice, Joey. I didn’t know those flavors would taste so good together.” The small boy in front of her beamed a toothy grin that tugged at her heart.

“Jazz?” Collin leaned over with a napkin. “You have ice cream on your chin.”

She leaned forward and let him wipe the spot. Her breath caught as he came in closer. Did he plan to kiss her? In front of his children? She scooted her chair away from him. “Thanks, Collin. What’s next for the evening?”

Collin sat back in his chair, a frown on his face. “I guess we’d better head home. It’s almost bedtime.”

“Do we have to?” Madison asked.

“Is your homework finished?” Collin peered at his daughter.

Madison folded her arms in front of her and cocked her head in a don’t-mess-with-me pose. “No.”

“Then home we go since you didn’t do your homework after school like you’re supposed to.”

“But, Dad, things are different.” Madison pouted and then her bottom lip quivered. “Mom isn’t here anymore.”

“Yes she is, you dope. She’s right there,” said Joey.

Madison flung her chair back as she scooted away from the table. “It is not her. She just looks like Mom and talks like Mom, but she isn’t Mom!” Tossing a disgusted look in Jazz’s direction, she continued with a sneer. “Mom would never eat that much ice cream.” Madison spun on her heel and headed for the exit.

“Madison! Sit down,” said Collin to Madison’s disappearing back.

With a gentle touch, Jazz put her hand on Collin’s shoulder. “Let her go. This has to be confusing to her. You and I are having trouble with it. Why shouldn’t she?”

“Is Madison in trouble?” Tim’s worried face pierced Jazz’s heart. These children shouldn’t have to deal with this.

“No, she’s not, Tim.” Jazz folded her napkin and placed it on the orange tray resting on the table. “I think we should go home, Collin. Who wants to carry the tray to the trash can?”

“I can do it,” said Joey.

“Great! I’m glad you offered, Joey.” Jazz’s praise lit his face.

Back in the car, Jazz opened the mirror on her visor to check for more ice cream spots. She glanced up to see Madison pouting in the backseat. She wondered what the relationship between Madison and her mother had been like. One thing was for sure: if tonight was any indication, she didn’t think Louisa and Madison were good friends.

“I called your mom today after I dropped the kids off at school.” Collin backed the car out of the parking space.

Collin talking to her mom. That sounded wrong when she was so sure she’d lost her mother a long time ago. She wanted to talk to her, but what would she say?
“Hi, I’m your daughter, but I don’t remember you after my twelfth birthday. Do you still read true murder books and knit sweaters?”
Anxiety threaded through her fingers as she twisted her ring in circles. “What did she say?”

“She’s concerned. I’m surprised she didn’t call you herself today.”

“Maybe she did while I was outside with Tim. So does she remember any traumas I experienced as a child?”

“None that should have made you want to forget your identity. But she did have a connection with Mexico. Your parents went on a business trip, but you stayed with a relative while they were gone.”

“What relative?” The bubble-gum ice cream in her stomach felt like it expanded into one giant bubble pressing up into her throat, and it didn’t feel good. She twisted the ring faster.

“Your dad’s cousin. You could ask her for more details.”

She pressed the button to lower the window and stuck her head outside. “Collin, can you pull over? I’m going to be sick.”

Collin bumped off the pavement and onto the shoulder of the road seconds before the giant bubble of ice cream erupted from Jazz.

* * *

Louisa lay curled on the couch like an infant. Her eyes were clenched shut, and a tear leaked and ran down the bridge of her nose. Collin gently wiped it dry with his finger. She didn’t move away from his touch, and that concerned him.
She must be in a lot of pain,
he thought. “I brought you an ice pack for your head. It might help the headache.”

She rolled over onto her back and took it from him, then plopped it on her forehead. She winced as the cold bag touched her skin. “Thanks, it might.” Her words came out with a quiver.

Collin knelt down on the floor next to her, reminding himself not to call her Louisa again. “Jazz, did you remember something? Is that what made you sick?” he pressed.