Marilyn Brant - According to Jane

I cover my mouth with both palms and close my eyes as I try to process this. Oh, Jane.

She sighs softly. Ellie, I waited almost two centuries to find just the right one of his ancestors with whom to share what I know of human nature, what I recognize to be true about love and passion. I waited to try to connect with his one descendant that I felt shared an outlook on life most like mine, in hopes of making her life better. Perhaps it is a small gift. Perhaps it has been hopelessly ineffective, but it is the only one I have left to give to the memory of the man I loved. And to you.

I hear her out, and my heart fills with appreciation for all she’s tried to do for me since the moment I first held that paperback copy of Pride and Prejudice. My heart fills also with the pain of love’s loss — one she’s carried with her for far, far too long.

I love you, Jane, and I’m indebted to you, I tell her. I’m so honored to be the one you chose…I can’t tell you how much. But now you need to let me handle my own destiny. Or at least the tiny bit of it I control. I promise I’ll try to make you proud.

If you will thank me…let it be

for yourself alone…your family

owe me nothing. Much as I

respect them, I believe I thought only of you.

 — Pride and Prejudice

Four hours later, at the reception, the Glen Forest Four Seasons Hotel glitters with tiny white lights on the outside but, on the inside, in Di and Alex’s reception ballroom (the Manitoba Room, not the Winnebago), the color scheme sparkles with deep violets, smooth lavenders and accents in lilac.

The lovely dinner, complemented by good wine and humorous, heartfelt toasts to the couple, has ended. The photogenic cake-cutting ritual has, likewise, passed. And, at last, the dance party begins.

“Oh, my God,” Di says, pointing at Sam and the just-arriving, hunky-looking DJ, who are busy making final adjustments to the sound system. “You know who that is, don’t you?”

I study the DJ’s chiseled profile but can’t recall any similarity to anyone in our acquaintance. “No,” I say.

“It’s Wild Ted in the Morning!”

“Can’t be.”

Di grins. “Yeah, it can be. WXRJ’s Wild Ted. He always does the weekday morning show and those eighties retrospectives you love.”

“How can you be so sure that’s him?”

“Seen him on a billboard out near O’Hare, and he was a guest VJ on VH1 once.”

“Oh, wow,” I say. “I never would’ve guessed he looked like that. I mean, he sounds great on the air and everything, but DJs aren’t usually so — ”

“Scandalously gorgeous?” Di concludes for me. I nod. “Yeah,” she says. “But he’s also got one of the most famous voices in Chicago. I wonder what your Sam had to do to convince him to come here…and last minute like this.”

“He’s not my Sam,” I say, mentally adding not yet, “and I don’t know.” But Di is right to wonder. Getting Wild Ted to work a non-celebrity wedding on one of his free Saturday nights has to be an expensive venture, even if there’s some kind of favor-payback involved. “I’ll go ask Sam how much we owe him.”

Di nods, worrying her lip a bit.

I walk around the edge of the dance floor, approaching Sam and the DJ just as they flip on the microphone.

“Helllloooo, Barnett and Evans families! Let’s give a shout out to the reunited newlyweds, Di and Alex!” The DJ pauses while everyone cheers. “Congratulations, you lovebirds, and welcome to all your friends. I’m Wild Ted — ” brief pause for delighted gasps, “and I’m here to kick off this rockin’ party with the first dance. By bridal request, here’s Billy Idol’s ‘White Wedding’!”

I catch Sam’s eye as the distinctive electric-guitar opening bursts through the speakers. He winks at me, and I walk to meet him at the corner of the dance floor.

“So, is this good?” he asks.

I reach for his hands, squeeze his strong fingers, feel the current flowing between us. “This is great, but Wild Ted…how on earth did you — ” I shake my head. “This had to take more than a phone call, Sam. We’ll pay you back, of course, but — ”

“No, you won’t.” Sam brings my fingers to his lips and starts to sway as if we’re beginning to dance. “Consider it my wedding gift to your sister.”

“Quite a wedding gift.”

“Quite a wedding,” he replies, eyeing Di and Alex with a raised brow. “Besides, my motives were ultimately selfish. I really was only thinking of you, Ellie…and how much I wanted to dance with you tonight.”

“Oh,” I say, the crazy pounding in my chest becoming more frenzied at these words. “Well, of course we can — ”

“Excuse me,” Nick says behind me. I turn to look at Alex’s brother. A good-looking guy, to be sure, and a nice one, but he’s just not Sam. I’m coming to understand that nobody, no matter how smart or attractive, is Sam…except for Sam. An obvious concept for most people, but a real lightning-bolt realization for me.

“We’re going to need to join the wedding party in a sec, El,” Nick says. To Sam he explains, “The best man and maid of honor have to dance after the bride and groom.”

“That’s right,” I whisper, shooting Sam an apologetic look.

Sam nods and points to his watch. “Okay, but I demand a rain check within the hour.”

I smile at him. “You got it.”

So Nick and I dance, and it’s all very pleasant, effortless, uncomplicated…and utterly bland except for the erotic vibes I’m getting from the blue-eyed doctor across the parquet floor.

Wild Ted begins working his way through Di and Alex’s musical request list, featuring artists like Edie Brickell and the New Bohemians, Fine Young Cannibals, The Fixx and many other less-than-traditional wedding selections. When the sounds of Men Without Hats pour through the speakers, a lively cheer rises from the crowd and someone shouts, “Hey, dudes, c’mon! Let’s all do the ‘Safety Dance’!”

At that I leave Nick to his girlfriend and glance around for Sam. He’s disappeared for the time being, so I seek out Angelique and Terrie. The three of us converge near the dessert table, chatting, nibbling on apricot-filled butter cookies and watching as Di and Alex’s buddies take to the floor with spirited fortitude. It’s hilarious.

“You going to force Everett out there?” I ask Terrie.

She shakes her head solemnly. “For me, it’s Wang Chung or nothing.”

Angelique laughs. “I’m holding out for Bananarama. How about you, Ellie?”

“It’d take a pretty phenomenal song to get me to make a fool of myself like that,” I say, chuckling. “At the moment, I can’t think of one that would qualify.”

“Hi, ladies,” Sam says, appearing at my elbow from out of nowhere. “Enjoying the music?”

“Yeah,” Terrie says. She exchanges a look with Angelique and me, glances at Sam, then onto the dance floor, then back at me. It’s high school all over again. “You know this is way weird.”

“Très weird,” Angelique contributes with a grin.

I nod and Sam’s face reddens a bit.

“I know,” he admits to us. “Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose. The more things change…” He winks at me, clears his throat and kind of laughs. “Um, Ellie?”

“Yes?”

“I came over here to tell you something.”

“What’s that?” I notice my cousin and my friend aren’t even pretending not to listen in.

He clears his throat a second time. “I just wanted you to know we’ve got Spandau Ballet coming up soon.”

I emit a sound that’s a cross between “Uh” and “Hmm” before feeling my face flush hot.

“I was hoping we could dance,” Sam says.

And then, as if on cue (which, God knows, it probably is), Wild Ted’s voice booms out to us. “Got a song my buddy Sam requested for the lovely sister of the bride. Ellie, if you’re out there listening, this one’s for you.”

“True” begins playing.

I stand in place, rooted to the floor by my deep purple pumps and the knowledge that Sam’s taken more than just tiny figurative steps today. This isn’t a mere fantasy. It’s not fading away. And neither is he.

“C’mon,” he says. “Dance with me? Please.”

So, I let him lead me to the floor and, for the first minute of the song, we’re out there alone. There are no sounds, save for the music playing and the shuffling of our feet. My family and friends are watching us, protecting me in their cocoon of affection until they realize I’m fine. Okay, more than fine.

Then everyone turns their attention back to their own lives, and the dance floor fills with other couples.

Sam finally speaks. “Thank you,” he says.

“For what?”

“For being you. For being a part of my life for ages. For forgiving me…” He eyes me as if this last part is still open to debate.

I grin at him. Truth is, I forgave Sam for everything so long ago it seems like ancient history. But I guess I’d needed the time to forgive myself — for squandering all those years thinking I could replace him with someone else, someone I considered less challenging.

“Boy, I’ll bet Stacy Daschell would like to dance again to this song,” I say, teasing him now because I know I can. “She’s been married and divorced a few times already, but she’s single these days. You might want to look her up.”

He leans in and whispers in my ear, “You know damn well I was only trying to make you jealous that night. You drove me freakin’ insane dancing with Jason. I chose Stacy because I was sure that’d get to you and because she was too drunk to remember much of anything. But it was you all along, Ellie. And you, my sweet, sexy little brainiac — ” He glances down at my formfitting dress. “You always knew that, didn’t you?”