The Best of Fools (Jane Austen Book 2) (25 page)

Donovan forced himself out of bed and rolled over me to do so, then flipped down on top of me with all of his weight.

"Ow!" I shoved at him. "You're on my boob! It hurts, dork!"

He didn't budge and pretended to snore. I kicked and pushed him with all I had, but couldn't get him off. I did manage to free my boob from his shoulder though.

He held back a laugh when I kneed his leg.

"Come on, Batgirl," he said. "You can do better than that."

I laughed. "You're so dumb."

"If I'm dumb, then you're a fool." He rolled on to the floor with a thump. "Ouch. What the hell was that?"

I peeked over the edge. "Looks like a curling iron went up your ass. Who's the fool now?"

He laughed and pulled it from under him, then sat up. "I might be a fool, but you're the best of fools."

"Not gonna argue that." I threw my pillow down to him and rolled over. "Now go meet your dad so I can sleep before I need to leave."

"Yes, Queen Jane." He smothered me with the pillow, then disappeared.

After I parked out front, I looked at their house from my car. Their house. Used to be my house too. For eighteen years. Or maybe seventeen. Not sure how old I was when Mom took me from ... my mom.

Time for answers.

Mom answered the door before I knocked, hugged me, and had me come into the living room where Dad rested on the couch.

"He's not feeling so well and we just want to make sure everything is okay after his hospital stay and everything," Mom said as she motioned for me to sit on the smaller couch.

I did.

"Ready for your big trip with Donny?" Mom said, sitting next to Dad and taking his hand into hers. "Oh, sorry, I mean Donovan," she teased, knowing I'm the only person who never called him Donny, another reason she thought we were destined for marriage and baby land.

"Not ready, but we're still leaving tomorrow."

"What's wrong? Everything okay?"

"Are my feelings always that apparent?"

"I'm afraid so. You always show exactly how you feel even when you don't want to."

"Hm. Another thing I need to work on."

"What's wrong, honey?"

"Oh, geez, I don't know." I rubbed my forehead. "This is awkward."

"Did you finally meet Julia?"

"No." I took a deep breath. "Just ... she emailed me back."

Dad readjusted himself and wrapped both hands around Mom's. "So you know the truth now?" he said.

"I know a lot. I know she was Mom's sister." I looked at Mom. "She's in rehab. She was raped. That stuff."

"Did she tell you about our parents?" Mom said.

"No. Why? I thought they both died?"

"Yes." She paused and sat next to me, then continued, "But before that, well, I was adopted too, Jane. Our parents couldn't have kids and Julia was a surprise. She's quite a few years younger than me. Our mother died a few years after having her and our father abused us after that. I tried to take care of her and raise her, but it was hard. Your dad and I got married as soon as we turned eighteen and he helped me report my dad. We got guardianship of Julia after that, but it was too late. She had already been raped by him."

"Wait a minute." I held the arm of the couch as heat rose inside of me. "My grandfather raped his own daughter and that's how I got here?"

"Jane." Dad sat up with a pained expression pressing his eyebrows toward his nose. "This is why we waited until you were older. It's complicated. Your mom and I have a good marriage, but it takes work. Not everything in life is perfect and we wanted you to be old enough to handle these things without getting overwhelmed."

Mom held my hand. I moved away.

"I'm trying not to be overwhelmed," I said, almost to myself. "But this ... this is a lot."

"I know the feeling." Mom choked on her words and wiped her face. "Jane, I love you." She wiped her face again. "You are my daughter, regardless of how, and I love you."

"When did you adopt me?"

"You were a baby," Dad said as Mom cried into her shoulder. "Your mother nursed you as though you were her own child. Got her milk production going with some herbs and pumping and you were nursed just like Eddie was. She loved you. Barely left your side. You were in our bed sleeping on your mother's chest for the first year of your life."

"I know." Tears teased my eyes. "Mom." I took her hand. "Mom." She looked at me. "I know being a mother is more than a womb and a pregnancy. You are my mother." Her chest heaved as she sucked in the air and clenched her eyelids shut. A tear ran down my cheek. "You're my mother and I'm so thankful. This isn't about me feeling unloved or like I need a mother. You're more than perfect, Mom. You're beautiful and I couldn't have asked for someone better to look up to."

She fell into my arms and cried on my shoulder. "I love you so much, Jane. I always feared that you would—"

"No," I said, holding my mother as she held me. "I would never. I love you. I love you so much."

We held each other. Mom cried as Dad grinned from across the room. I needed that moment. I needed to remember that no matter what my biological mother may have been like or done ... she wasn't my real mother.

This woman, this beautiful woman who gave so much of herself and rarely got anything in return, she was my real mother. My role model. The very reason love scared the hell out of me.

I could never compete with a heart like hers. But I was starting to realize that I didn't need to. I could love just as big and just as deep as she did. And I was doing that very thing as I cried on her shoulder. I was loving and being loved. I was being me.

Jane Maryanne Austen.

"Mom," I said as she finally pulled back and moved the wet hair from her face. "I love you. My biggest hope is that one day maybe I can love my own child as much as you love me."

She pursed her lips together, caught Dad's smile across the room, and waved away more tears as she laughed. "I'm a mess."

"A beautiful mess," Dad said. "Most beautiful mess I've ever seen."

"Oh, no," I said. "Don't start, you guys."

We all laughed. And I looked at them, beaming at each other through glassy eyes. I figured it wouldn't be so bad. To have something like that, I mean. To love someone like they loved each other. Just ... maybe a few clicks more normal.

But there was definitely something beautiful about what they had.

And I was thankful I got to be a part of it. As their daughter.

Their
real
daughter.

I checked my bags a few more times and a text from Alistair popped up.

Haven't talked to you in a while. Busy little duck?

I responded:
Quack, quack. We have a lot of catching up to do. My biological mom emailed and I talked with my parents. Actually kinda cleansing.

Alistair:
Can you talk on the phone?

Me:
Can't right now. Super busy and running late. Maybe soon though.

Alistair:
Jane
.

Me:
Yeah
?

Alistair:
Jane....

Me:
Yeah...

Alistair:
Ok... Talk soon.

I didn't tell him I was on my way to the Mentmore Towers in Buckinghamshire as my first stop and that Donovan would be traveling with me. Didn't tell him that I'd be just over two hours from his home in Bristol, where we originally intended to meet and spend time making music together. Music I didn't know how to create, but he promised to teach me.

Zoe poked her head into my room. "Need a ride to the airport?"

I shook my head as I mentally checked off everything I needed. "Nope. Autumn is taking us."

"Is, um ... is Donovan waiting outside in the car?"

"I would hope so."

"Oh, um, then..." She ran down the stairs and down the next set of stairs before the apartment door even closed behind her. I shook my head. I swear that guy had a love potion stacked somewhere that he desperately needed to provide a cure for so that girls could handle the aftermath.

I straightened my bed and did one last mental run through, then picked up my two bags—I pack light—and headed outside.

Zoe turned into a ten-year-old boy band fan as Donovan soaked up the attention from the car. So utterly annoying. I shoved my stuff into Autumn's trunk as she laughed, then I got in the backseat. Autumn drove away from Zoe before she climbed into the car and Donovan climbed into the backseat.

"Ladies first," he said.

"Huh?"

"I mean, ladies get shotgun."

"Oh." I pointed. "You want me to climb up there and take that seat?"

He gestured for me to do just that.

"Uh ... okay..." I managed to get up there and buckle up. Autumn smirked at me.

"I can see your face in the rear view, you know," Donovan said.

I laughed. "She'll always think we're in love and destined to be together. It'll never end."

"Unless you both marry someone else," she said. "Then maybe I'll believe it."

"We've had a close friendship and some intense times, but that doesn't mean we're meant to be," Donovan said. "Right, Jazz?"

I stared out the window. "Mmmhmm."

"How do you know when you're meant to be with someone?" Autumn asked.

"The way I feel about Han. It's like. my heart walks away whenever she leaves the room. If I want to stay alive, I gotta follow it."

My head bobbed in the side mirror as I pretended not to hear that.

"You think Han is the one?" Autumn laughed. "Come on! You say that about everyone."

"It's different this time," I said, eyes still on the passing trees.

Neither of them responded.

I turned and looked at them both. "What? It is."

"It is," Donovan said somberly. "But it's also complicated."

"Why?" Autumn said.

"Because..." He tapped the car door. "She has a strict and conservative family and they believe in arranged marriages or at least something similar. I'm not exactly the arrangement they're looking for."

"Donovan." I looked over my shoulder at him. "You're an amazing guy and I'm sure Han thinks the same. One day at a time. We have years ahead of us. You're always rushing to get to tomorrow when you've got today right here."

"I could die tomorrow and I want to die with her as my girl." His voice deepened as he lowered his chin, something he did when he was agitated. "You keep saying we're too young to know real love, but speak for yourself. Maybe I got a little crazy with some of my exes, but I had a good reason for that. There's only two people I've ever loved, Jane."

I glanced at Autumn who tried to keep her smile from making a grand entrance.

"What reason is good enough to go crazy thinking every single girl you meet is the one?"

"You." He clenched his jaw.

"Trying to make you jealous," Autumn interjected.

"Thanks for the clarification, Dr. Phil," I turned back to the window. "I'm sorry I hurt you, Don. I don't know how many times I can say this. And I do believe love can exist for teenagers, maybe just not this one."

"You're too guarded," Don said. "If you died tomorrow wouldn't you regret being so closed up?"

"Not at all. I'm not as closed up as you think. I'm just cautious. Guys aren't my biggest desire. I have other dreams to live and if that happens along the way, great." I sighed. So tired of explaining myself. "And I do let people in."

"You've let Alistair in?"

"Maybe."

"Then why aren't we visiting him on this trip?"

"Maybe we are."

Autumn turned on some music.

And that was that. We didn't speak again until we boarded the plane. We weren't mad. We were thinking. Processing. Doing that thing we do in our comfortable awkward moments.

The time would come. Maybe halfway across the ocean. We'd finish processing, look at each other, and laugh.

Donovan and I were exhausted beyond comprehension and passed out as soon as we got to the hotel. Neither of us slept on the flight. We just can't. We hate flying and that was a loooong flight with about fifty million bursts of turbulence—also known as, moments when your life flashes before your eyes and you wonder what the hell the oxygen mask is for anyway. Personally, if I'm gonna die in a plane crash I'd rather forego the oxygen and pass out first.

I woke up in the middle of the night and Donovan, surprisingly, was up. I was facing away from him, but the wall glowed from his phone and his arms moved near my back.

I tried to blink myself back to sleep, but everything about my birth situation kept my eyes open as I replayed my conversation with Mom over and over.

I was raped. My dead grandfather was my father. My aunt was my mother. Those kinds of twisted perversions only happened in movies, not real life. Not my life.

A wave of major sadness tightened my chest as it swept over me. I wanted to be strong and not care about how I came into the world and just be thankful for
being
in the world. You know, live in the moment.

But my moment didn't appeal to me. I remember the day I overheard Mom and Dad talking about my adoption. I remember the day I planted that box and vowed to never think of it again. So clearly, I remember crying myself to sleep feeling like I didn't fit in anywhere, with anyone. Except Don.