My Lucky Stars (29 page)

Jane returned the compliment. “You look great too, Tara. Ben really should see how you’ve changed. Call him,” Jane prodded. “Invite him to your baptism.”

“I don’t know,” Tara said. The idea of calling Ben was equally terrifying and exciting. “That’s not really something I can ask on the phone. I don’t think he’d believe me.” She sighed. “I was so awful last December.”

“So
show
him you’re different. Go see him,” Jane said.

Tara shook her head. “No way. I can’t even fly from one state to another without having a panic attack. I can’t afford a first-class ticket right now, and I’d never make it across the country in coach.”

“You could drive,” Peter suggested. He finished putting on Jane’s shoes and stood. He held his hand out to Jane, helping her from the bed. “Trust me. Guys love coming home and finding strange women in their backyard.” He pulled Jane close and hugged her.

“Kiss her, Daddy,” Maddie said, looking up from her post, sitting between the babies in their car seats.

“I think I will.” Peter bent his head and brushed his lips to Jane’s.

Tara looked away, feeling the intruder again. Yearning hit her once more, and this time she indulged it, reliving Ben’s kiss, wondering what it
would
be like if she saw him again. If she shared with him all that had happened this summer, the way she felt, her desire to be baptized.

“I could ask
Ben
to baptize me.” She spoke the thought out loud.

“That’s a great idea,” Jane said. She and Peter stepped apart as a nurse with a wheelchair entered the room.

“Ben’s the one who first . . . piqued your interest, right?” Peter asked.

“Yeah.” Tara put the video camera away and stepped out into the hall while everyone got ready to leave. She wondered how many miles it was from here to Ohio. How many days of driving that would be, how long it would take.

I must be crazy.
She couldn’t believe she was even considering it. A trip like that would cost money. It would take planning. It would be—

Amazing.
She’d never done anything like it before, had never really traveled anywhere other than big cities. Yet she loved Bainbridge—the space, the fresh air, visiting Jane’s home.

But this
is
Jane’s home, not mine.
Long ago, Jane had taken her own leaps of faith that led her here. She had worked to make her own happiness.

The nurse wheeled Jane out to the hall. Peter followed, a baby carrier in each hand. Maddie took up the rear, cooing at the twins. Tara followed, a smile on her face as she remembered, all too well, a time she’d told Jane she was the crazy one.

Perhaps there was something to be said in favor of following her example.

Thirty-Five

Tara pulled the blanket close around her and lay back on Jane’s roof, gazing at the sprinkling of stars overhead. A few feet away, Jane had her eye pressed to the telescope as she studied the night sky.

“Dinner was great,” Tara said. “Thanks for having me over.”

“I figured a farewell dinner was a good way to make sure you really left on your trip tomorrow,” Jane said. “And as a follow-up, I’m going to expect a full star report from Ohio.”

Tara laughed. “I’m going to have to see how strong the farm aroma is there before I commit to hanging around outside.”

“Well, I’m glad it’s clear tonight,” Jane said. “It’s been forever since I’ve been up here.”

“The sky is beautiful,” Tara agreed.
The heavens
, she thought, wanting to know more about them and excited because—finally—she knew where to turn for answers. “What do you think heaven is like?” she asked, when Jane had left the telescope and was making her way toward her.

“Like Bainbridge,” Jane answered without hesitation. “It’s beautiful, and I’m surrounded by the people I love.”

“Guess I’ll be lonely there too,” Tara said, feeling disappointed.

Jane turned to her. “You won’t. Because heaven is also a place where we’re free from our sorrows. It says so in the scriptures. You won’t be lonely. We’ll be free of care, and any physical or other ailment we suffer on earth is also lifted from us.”

“You sound so sure,” Tara said. Her own testimony felt fragile. She longed for Jane’s security, for her years of learning and understanding.

“I’m not sure about everything,” Jane said. “But this . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she lay back on the roof beside Tara. For a few minutes neither spoke.

“I saw Mark,” Jane said suddenly.

“Who?” Tara turned her head to look at Jane.

“Maddie’s twin—our little boy.” She brought a finger to her lips and swallowed. In the dim light, Tara could see the tide of emotion rippling across Jane’s features.

“When I was in the coma,” Jane said. “I was with him—with Mark.”

Tara’s eyes widened. “Is that—
normal
?”

Jane made a sound that was half-laughter, half-choking. “Not that I know of. But I was with him. Really. And he was
well.
”

“What else?” Tara asked, eager to hear and believe what Jane was telling her. “Did you see Peter’s brother? Where were you? What—”

“I didn’t see anyone else,” Jane said. “Just Mark.” Her voice grew wistful. “I couldn’t even tell you where he—we—were exactly, but I was with him.”

Tara wasn’t sure what to say to this, though she could tell Jane spoke the truth. “How amazing—what a miracle.”

Jane nodded. “I’ve had more than my fair share, it seems.” She smiled. “I’d better be careful from here on out.”

“I should say so,” Tara agreed. Above them a universe of stars twinkled, making miracles seem a real possibility. “Who says there has to be a limit?” The past few months flew before her in a blur. Stepping back to look at them, she saw miracles too—many of them.

She’d arrived, just when Jane had needed someone to stay with her. All the things Brother Bartlett had taught . . .
Just for me.
The way the missionaries had been so in tune with her feelings and needs.

Miracles had happened with Jane and her babies. An ambulance had been nearby, returning from another call. Sister Sheffield had felt prompted to check on Jane.
Brother Sheffield’s blessings.
Tara realized that all of it had helped build her fledgling faith. She knew she would cherish this time, this summer, for the rest of her life. It was when she had first read about King Benjamin, had first discovered she had a Father in Heaven.

All because I happened to meet a good man named Ben.

Tara hugged herself, feeling both warm and shivery at the same time. “I know one thing.” She spoke with as much conviction as Jane had moments ago. “We’ve both been blessed, and we ought to thank our lucky stars.”

Autumn

“
Good fortune often happens

when opportunity meets with preparation.
”

—Thomas A. Edison

Thirty-Six

Tara watched the odometer turn over another mile as the Jeep bumped along a dirt road. She glanced at the GPS again, hoping once more that the computer knew what it was doing. In the rearview mirror she saw a cloud of dust forming in the wake behind her and wondered how long it had been since it had rained. Certainly not that long. The October air smelled crisp and clean, and the lush, green hills were dotted crimson, pumpkin, and gold. Leaves stirred in the slight breeze as they sailed toward the ground.

“Arriving at your destination,” the GPS announced after she’d passed a third farm. Tara slowed as she came to a sturdy-looking wooden mailbox with
Whitmore
stenciled across it. The flutter of nerves that had been building inside since she’d crossed the Ohio border now seemed to erupt in her stomach, and for a split second she felt a wave of suffocating panic, though the windows were down and there was space all around her.

Through her mind scrolled the many possible scenarios she had imagined about her reunion with Ben. Now that she was here only one seemed a real possibility—that he’d think she’d completely lost her mind when she explained that she’d driven over two thousand miles to ask him a question.

A really important question
, the Spirit reminded her, and Tara felt her newfound peace return along with a boost of courage. She drove past the mailbox and followed the long gravel drive toward a nondescript white two-story farmhouse. Resisting the urge to back up and turn the Jeep around so it would be facing the road, ready for a quick escape, she parked, shut off the engine, and said a silent prayer.

A quick glance in the rearview mirror showed what she had suspected—her windblown hair looked nothing like the long, shiny locks displayed by models. And the face staring back at her seemed almost foreign. Her new less-is-best look still surprised her sometimes.

Automatically her hand went to her purse on the seat. In the past it had always held an array of products she could cover up with and hide behind at a moment’s notice. Not so anymore. Of course, cutting her daily makeup routine in half didn’t really have anything to do with her new religion—she’d seen plenty of women at church who believed strongly in too much eyeliner and bright lipstick—but was more about her new belief in herself. She was Tara Mollagen, thirty-five years old, been kissed way too many times, with a few too many freckles for her liking. But that was okay.

I’m okay.
Ben had thought so before when she’d likely looked her worst—and had certainly acted it—on that mountaintop, so what was to keep him from being her friend now? She smiled at her reflection and stepped out of the Jeep.

The house wasn’t any more impressive up close, though it wasn’t bad either. She’d known a few career bachelors who were total slobs, and from the look of the yard, at least, Ben didn’t fall into that category. Remembering the way she’d seen him work during those few days at Christmastime, she wasn’t surprised that the patch of lawn was neatly mowed, the flower beds groomed, and the walk swept.

More important was the surprising lack of farm smell. She’d caught more than a few whiffs of animal on her way here and was pleasantly surprised that she wasn’t reeling with the stench of dozens—or hundreds—of pigs.

How many does Ben keep, anyway?
Looking in either direction past the house, she didn’t see much indication of farming at all, aside from a rather battered cornfield, which even she knew was long past due to be harvested. Since everything else appeared so tidy, this puzzled her.

Maybe he’s better with animals than he is with crops.
But looking around, she couldn’t see any indication of the animals, other than an enormous red barn on the side of the house opposite the cornfield.

On unsteady legs—from the long car ride, she told herself—she made her way to the front porch and climbed the few steps. She ran her fingers through her hair once more then took a deep breath. As she lifted her hand to knock, she heard the sound of glass breaking, followed by a shout. The front door banged open, just missing Tara as she jumped out of the way. An enormous, pink potbellied pig lumbered past, grunting loudly with each step.

He keeps them in the
house
?
Her eyes followed the pig as it left the porch and crossed the yard, headed toward the barn.

“Ben’s not out there, either, you stupid—” A man in the doorway stopped abruptly, his eyes sweeping over Tara. “Oh, hey. I didn’t realize anyone was here. Sorry for shouting.”

“That’s okay,” Tara said. She tried not to gawk at the pig, which was shaking its head savagely and running circles in the drive.

The man followed her gaze. “Persephone’s been a real pain today. She gets upset when Ben’s not home.”

“Oh.”
Pigs have moods?
She turned her attention to him. “So, Ben isn’t here?”

The man shook his head. “He and Deb went shopping, but they should be back any minute.”

Deb?

“C’mon in and wait. I’m sure you’re better company than the pigs,” he added, grinning at her.

“I’d hope so.” Instead of accepting his offer, she looked toward the Jeep—and the large pig standing between her and escape. While she wasn’t eager for a confrontation there, she wasn’t sure she wanted to stay. In all the possibilities she’d considered about her reunion with Ben, she hadn’t imagined one where other people would be there when she first saw him. This guy and someone else—a woman.

My mistake
, she thought glumly.

Ben had never said that he lived alone, but that was the way she’d thought of him. She’d imagined driving into his yard and seeing him out on his tractor—or possibly a horse—then looking at her and . . . What? What had she really expected him to do? She sighed inwardly.
This is what comes of reading too many of Jane’s romance novels over the summer.

“I should be going,” she said. “Maybe I’ll come by tomorrow.”

“Can I tell Ben you stopped by? I’m sorry, I didn’t even ask your name.”

Jane.
Old friend from school.
The lie was on the tip of her tongue. In the past, lies had never hesitated to roll right off, saving her from unwanted attention or getting her out of dates she didn’t care to go on. Occasionally, she’d used one in reverse to get access to someone she otherwise wouldn’t have been able to meet. But now . . .

“Tara,” she mumbled. “I’ll write down my cell, and maybe Ben can call.” She reached for the pen in her purse. It would be better this way. He could call her. They could arrange to meet somewhere by themselves, and she could ask him then.

“You’re Tara?” The man sounded surprised. “On-the-way-to-Denver Tara?”

Her face heated under his gaze. “Yep. That’s me.” She could only imagine the things Ben must have told his friends about her. She hurriedly scribbled her number on a scrap piece of paper. No way she was coming back tomorrow. She’d just talk to Ben over the phone. And if he had a problem with her request, then she’d ask Peter to baptize her.

What I should have done in the first place.