Marilyn Brant - According to Jane

Ah, well. Being honest with yourself is the last frontier, isn’t it?

I nod, finally giving myself permission to trust my instincts. Sam draws me nearer. The song’s chorus plays again, and I relax into his embrace.

Jane makes a last-ditch effort to test my resolve by applying her nearly unerring sense of logic. Are you certain you wish to go down this path? she asks, her voice worried. Do you not remember your own emotions at witnessing his behaviour? Do you not recall with clarity his treatment of you? From the very first this man has abused your kindness. Long ago you called him a coward and an idiot. You said you were glad to be rid of him. Are you quite sure you can think otherwise now?

I silently assess the messages Sam sent me this week. Three days ago he made an oral declaration of love. He spent today in action, solving our family’s wedding crisis. He not only telegraphed romantic interest verbally and nonverbally in private, he had it announced by microphone tonight. At an event with two hundred people. Many of whom would dismember him if he hurt me.

Sam Blaine always had smarts. Now he’s gained courage, too.

Have I?

Think, Ellie! You even made a wordplay on his initials once, Jane reminds me. It was, as he richly deserved, a less-than-flattering association.

I laugh at this. That’s right. S.O.B. Sam “the Obnoxious” Blaine. But, Jane —

Precisely. You deduced the weakness of his character at a remarkably young age.

But that was the problem. I was a teen then, not much older than a child. And so was he. Don’t you think I could’ve misinterpreted his behavior, or that maybe he changed?

No. I do not believe — Jane begins.

“Hey, Sam,” I say aloud. “What’s your middle name?”

He squints at me. “Uh, Randolph.” He looks supremely embarrassed by this admission. “Why?”

“Randolph,” I repeat out loud, emphasizing it for Jane’s benefit. “Wouldn’t have guessed that one.” Then, to Jane, And neither did you. We, neither of us, were completely fair. We didn’t try to discover anything new about him. We stayed stuck in the past and —

Oh, dear child, after he used you so ill, I could have dubbed him with a far more fitting middle name, Jane says hotly, clearly still wounded on my behalf and exhibiting her loyalty to the end. Fiend, Devil, Brute. Any of these would suffice.

“What did you think it was?” Sam asks me.

I shrug. “No idea, Sam. It just goes to show how many little details I still have to learn about you.” To Jane, And that’s merely the tiniest of examples. He’s matured. We must look at him as he is NOW.

I dislike immensely what I see, Jane says stubbornly. Your heart is in grave danger, and I believe you are blinded to it.

Am I, Jane? Or, perhaps, are you the blind one this time? Tell me, have you any objection to the grown-up Sam Blaine other than your belief of my continued emotional peril when in his presence?

I confess I do worry for you, she says, though she avoids answering my question. I suspect him to be a proud, unpleasant man, interested in no one but himself.

I don’t buy that, I tell her. And I’m betting he’d be fascinated by YOU if I ever told him about our relationship.

She sighs. Again, my concern is on your behalf. I fear Mr. Blaine has never been, and is not now, worthy of you or your affection.

Maybe. Maybe not. The point is, Jane, I don’t know. And I WON’T know unless I give him a chance, as an adult.

I could not stand to witness your hurt at his hands the first time, Ellie. My months away from you then were not solely in anger. I, too, felt your injury and required some distance. So I am cautious, my friend, and I wonder how you can be certain he will not destroy your heart a second time.

I can’t, I admit. But it’s a risk I’m willing to take and, for once, I’m not being childish about this, Jane. I’m not going against your wisdom out of fear, arrogance or immaturity. You’re the one who’s always talking about Lessons and Reasons and Purposes that must be revealed in time…Well, I’m convinced Sam’s path and mine are meant to intersect somehow. That everything in my life has led to this moment and —

“Ellie, where the hell are you?” Sam says.

“What?” I realize I stopped dancing and he caught me staring into space during my debate with Jane. “Oh, sorry, just thinking.”

Sam shakes his head. “No. It’s more than that. I swear to God, half the time I tried talking with you in high school, and even afterward, it was like you were listening to voices or something. I could never get your full attention.”

He scores his fingers through his hair and scowls at me, his forehead creased, his eyes pained. “What’s the deal with that? I can fight against a real opponent, and I will if you want me to, but I can’t battle your memory of someone more important. Are you sure there isn’t somebody else, Ellie?”

I gape at him, half impressed, half stunned. No one has ever called me on this before. No one. See, Jane, I say, triumphant. In his own way, he’s known about you all along. He’s the only person who’s paid close enough attention.

She sighs loudly, but I can tell she’s wavering a bit.

“Sam,” I say to him, “I can assure you there is no other man in my life. You’re the one I want. The one I’ve always wanted. And, yeah, there are raging arguments in my head sometimes, and there probably always will be. But I love you, Sam Blaine.” I look deep into his blue eyes, his pupils so dilated that, if I didn’t know better, I’d assume he was drunk on wedding champagne. “And I have since…oh, the very beginning.”

He exhales a long breath and bends his head to kiss me.

I pull back. “Mind you, I don’t know if I’ll want to marry you or anything. A night of wild sex every fifteen years or so is one thing — but a lifetime commitment? We’ll have to wait and see on that.”

Sam smiles down at me. “If you don’t want to talk about marriage or kids tonight, I’m fine with it, even though that’s where I’m headed.” He pauses. “That was the real problem during high school, you know. Bad timing. I knew you’d make a lousy girlfriend, but I — ”

“A lousy girlfriend!” I swat his chest with the back of my palm. “How dare you, Sam! Did you think I was that boring? That ugly? That inexperi — ”

He laughs. “Shhh, let me finish. I didn’t want you as some short-term fling, Ellie. I was certain you’d be the perfect wife for me someday, if you didn’t kill me first, but I figured I’d better wait it out until we were both ready. Until I was a better man for you.” He pauses again. “Sorry it took me so long.”

Well, I could hardly rage at him after that. So, instead, I say, “You thought about us, about marriage…that early?”

“Yes. Ask me why?”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve always loved you, and now I want to be with you once and for all. Please, can we just see how things go between us?” He waits for me to respond, which I do with a nod. “If it doesn’t work out, then I want a damn good reason why not. And, if it does, we’ll cross that bridge when you’re ready. You’ve never not been the one for me, Ellie Barnett, and I’ll do what it takes to prove that to you.”

Despite Sam’s special ability to use confusing double negatives, I understand the sincerity of his declaration.

I grin at him. He grins back. Then he kisses my lips softly and, even with so light a touch, I can feel the electricity between us sparking. We return to dancing — our slow, body-hugging sway — despite the fact that the music has changed and Wild Ted has put on some upbeat Modern English for the newlyweds.

Jane, I say to the wise lady inhabiting my mind, he HAS changed. Love changed him. It’s true and you know it. Sam IS my Mr. Darcy.

She gives a short, ironic snort, but the conviction with which she’d protested earlier diminished greatly after Sam’s last speech. And, hey, how could she not recognize love’s power to transform?

It seems even the brilliant Jane Austen might yet have a thing or two to learn about the strength of passion through the decades…

Very well, she says. You have stated your case effectively and, if you insist on trying this, I suppose I cannot stop you. Mr. Blaine may, with much good luck, turn out somewhat better than I dare hope.

This, I know, is the closest I’ll get to a concession tonight.

Thanks, Jane, I say. I realize, though, that I don’t need her approval, much as I wholly respect her advice. I’ve finally heard the voice of my heart, and it knows when something is right.

Sam pulls me closer, I squeeze him back and we melt together. Our communication right now is silent, too, and effortless.

I appreciate your leap of faith in him, Jane, I tell her before turning my full attention over to Sam for the night. But I hope you’ll stick around and see for yourself.

She laughs. Ah, Ellie. You may later regret the invitation, but perhaps I shall. Your challenge gives me reason to stay.

In which author Marilyn Brant is interviewed by her main character, Ellie Barnett, on the subject of her life as a writer and why, precisely, she wrote this book.

Ellie (smiling, her pen poised studiously for note taking) : Hey, there, Marilyn.