
It begins one day in sophomore English class, just as
Ellie Barnett's teacher is assigning Jane Austen's "Pride
and Prejudice". From nowhere comes a quiet 'tsk' of
displeasure. The target: Sam Blaine, the cute bad boy
who's teasing Ellie mercilessly, just as he has since
kindergarten. Entirely unbidden, as Jane might say, the
author's ghost has taken up residence in Ellie's mind, and
seems determined to stay there. Jane's wise and witty
advice guides Ellie through the hell of adolescence and
beyond, serving as the voice she trusts, usually far more
than her own.
Years and boyfriends come and go - sometimes
a little too quickly, sometimes not nearly fast enough.
But Jane's counsel is constant, and on the subject of Sam,
quite insistent. Stay away, Jane demands. He is your Mr.
Wickham. Still, everyone has something to learn about
love - perhaps even Jane herself. And lately, the voice in
Ellie's head is being drowned out by another, urging her
to look beyond everything she thought she knew and seek
out her very own, very unexpected, happy ending.
Excerpt I watched the taillights of Dominicβs
Pontiac fade away into the distance, and I thought about
our deteriorating relationship. Who I was. Who he was.
Where we were going. Or not going. Iβd almost broken up
with him an hour before, but Iβd held on. Why, why, why?
Perhaps it is because you feel
lonely? Jane suggested.
Yeah.
And because you are about to
embark on something unknown next month--your graduate
studies at a new university--and you crave the familiar?
Yeah. That, too.
And, additionally, because you
will be two-and-twenty next week and wish to celebrate it
with someone dear to you?
I didnβt speak, but I nodded. I
shouldβve known Jane Austen would figure it out. Sheβd
been my constant companion, my most secret friend for
years. She spoke only in the silence of my mind, but she
knew me as no one else could...or wanted to.
All will turn out right,
Ellie, she said softly. Trust in yourself and in
your instincts. You have a strong intuition about the
honor and character of others. It is stronger, perhaps,
than you realize, and it gains further strength with time
and experience. Do not despair.
Thanks, Jane, I whispered,
fighting back the despair that curled in my stomach
nevertheless.
So, a week later, when I found myself
sitting at that same Chicago bar Dominic and his pals
always dragged me to, after being promised a
"romantic birthday dinner for two" we were
already thirty minutes late for, I took a good long look
around me:
I was in a place I didnβt want to be,
with people who talked about big change but did
nothing.
I was dating a man who, while
attractive and reasonably intelligent, didnβt appreciate
me, and who was also part leech.
I was exactly twenty-two (as of 8:28
that morning), unmarried, inhaling secondhand smoke,
bored, frustrated and hungry.
The evening couldnβt get any worse.
I grabbed my second white wine at the
bar and took a turn about the room--sipping my drink,
chitchatting idly and privately with Jane, glancing at the
framed autographs hanging crookedly on the walls and
contemplating Dominicβs untimely death.
The driving beat of a Def Leppard song
came on, competing with the ambient noise, and I felt a
gust of hot summer wind next to me as the front door swung
open. The woman who walked through it was about my age
and height, only really stunning. Her hair was a long, soft
auburn that curled at the ends like some LβOrΓ©al hair-
color model. She seemed as gleeful walking into The Bitter
Tap as Iβd be if I could walk out of it. A tall, dark-
haired man followed her inside, and I looked away.
Then I looked back.
Holy shit.
Thereβd been times since high school
ended, times over the past four years--indeed, a great
many times--when Iβd wondered what Iβd say or do
if I ever ran into the loathsome Sam Blaine again.
I imagined myself holding my head high
and carrying on with whatever I was doing without
acknowledging his presence.
Or, I thought I might lift an elegant
eyebrow in greeting and say with perfect indifference, βIs
that you, Sam? I hardly recognized you. You look
shorter.β
Or, maybe, Iβd be in the midst of
laughing over something hysterically funny when someone
else would break in and introduce us. Iβd shake his hand
and pretend not to remember him until he insisted weβd
gone to kindergarten and all twelve grades of school
together. And that weβd spent one really memorable night
in each otherβs arms...a night that had inexorably shaped
my view of love. Then Iβd reply with an amused, βOh,
yeah. Sam. Thatβs right. Sorry, your name slipped
my mind.β
That night, in sad reality, I stood
utterly still and gaped at him.
He moved toward me and, as recognition
dawned, his handsome features contorted into a look of
pure horror.
My God. I mustβve looked pitiful.
Turn away, Jane commanded.
You need not speak to him.
But I couldnβt make myself turn
away.
βEllie?β he said.
βSam.β His name came out of my open
mouth with a veritable squeak.
He cleared his throat. βIβm surprised
to see you. I almost didnβt recognize you.β
I laughed aloud, and Sam shot me an
odd look. Yeah. Irony was a bitch.
βSame here,β I said, though we both
knew better. I pointed to the auburn-haired chick, whoβd
been watching our exchange curiously. βYour girlfriend?β
He nodded and introduced me
to βCamryn,β a fellow future medical student with sharp,
assessing, green eyes in addition to all that TV-
commercial-worthy hair.
Dominic, of all people, chose this
particular instant to stride up to us and lay his hand on
my shoulder. βHey, darlinβ,β he said to me, but he fixed
his gaze on Sam and Camryn. βWeβll be outta here in just a
couple of minutes. Mickβs trying to find an article for
me in his bag.β
He pointed in his buddiesβ direction
where Mick alternately puffed on a cigarette and dug
through a rumpled backpack. I knew this task would take
another half hour at least.
βWeβve gotta get you to your birthday
dinner,β Dominic continued, punctuating his bald-faced lie
with a possessive squeeze.
I forced a grin at the jerk. βTake
your time, um, sweetie.β
Dominic looked back at me, his eyes
widening in surprise. βUh, thanks.β He nodded to the
couple in front of us. βHi. Iβm Dominic, Ellieβs
boyfriend. You guys old friends?β
Camryn started to shake her head, but
Sam said, βYeah,β before she or I could reply. βVery old,β
he added.
βYep. Ancient-history old.β I smiled
toothily at the other three and took a long swig of my
wimpy wine. Crap. I wanted a margarita now, heavy
on the Jose Cuervo Gold. If ever there was a time for
strong drinks, this was it.
Do whatever you must, Jane
said, with hot fury in her voice, but get away from
that despicable man.
I wanted to listen to her. I really
did. But my feet were rooted to the spot for the duration.
Camrynβs gaze ping-ponged between her
boyfriend's face and mine. Her green eyes
narrowed. βPleasure meeting you both,β she said to Dominic
and me, her gritted teeth indicating her definitive lack
of enthusiasm. βBut Iβve been waiting all day for a
daiquiri, so, weβll see you later. Enjoy your
birthday...Emmy.β
βItβs Ellie,β Sam said, beating me to
it.
Camryn cast him a lethal look and
began to walk away.
Hmm. So that was how it was.
Sam opened his mouth but then closed
it again. He lifted his arm up in a half wave and followed
his girlfriend to the bar.
Dominic squinted after them, turned
back to me and shot me a puzzled look before rejoining his
friends.
Jane, who'd begun ranting with fervor
since Sam appeared on the scene, scarcely paused for a
breath between words. How insupportable! What an
insufferable creature! The nerve of him to cross your path
again after what he did!
I let her continue her tirade of
antiquated English insults a while longer as I gulped the
rest of my drink. It was going to take an Act of God to
stop me from getting one very necessary and
immediate jumbo birthday margarita. I pushed the
smoky air out of my lungs, scanned for a good spot to
squeeze in at the bar and edged up to the corner of
it...
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