Reinventing Rachel (16 page)

Daphne giggled. “Okay, so … a cute little sheep, maybe.”

“Yeah, I’m going to get a sheep permanently inked on my … Where are you getting yours?”

“Lower back, I think.”

Rachel shuddered. “Honestly, the thought of it makes me queasy.”

Daphne patted Rachel’s knees. “Well, it’s totally up to you. But there’s no need to over think it. Cute, dainty women like yourself get them done all the time—if they can do it, so can you.”

“Well, I’ll definitely come support you when you do yours. I just have to ponder it for a while. Is that cool?”

“Yes, of course.” Daphne clapped her hands. “A toast! To tattoos and promotions.”

Rachel smiled. “Thanks, Daph.”

“Well, I’m happy for you. But I still think you’re crazy.”

o

Rachel raced home Wednesday evening to be ready in time for her night out with Jack. She was combing out her hair when Daphne poked her head into her room. “Need any help getting even more gorgeous than you already are?”

Rachel chuckled. “You know me. I’ll take any help I can get.”

“Silly girl, you should have told me sooner. Hold on.” She disappeared for a moment, then came in with her makeup bag. “Take a seat and let me beautify.”

Rachel did as she was told. “I wonder where we’re going.”

“He hasn’t given you any hints at all?”

“Nope.”

She sighed. “I have to admit I am so jealous.”

“I’m sorry. I hope I’m not rubbing it in your face.”

“Not at all. And I’m happy to help make you look like a million bucks.” Daphne gave Rachel’s cheek a final dab of foundation. “I just wish I had a reason to do the same to myself.”

She worked in silence for a few minutes, then stood back. “Okay, check it out.”

Rachel stood to look in the mirror. “Wow. You’re really good at this. You should get a job at one of those makeup counters at Macy’s.”

Daphne wrinkled her nose. “Nah. It’s more fun doing it with friends.” She rummaged in her makeup bag and pulled out a small gold jar. “Okay, this may sound a little out there, but it’s awesome.”

“What is it?”

“Body glitter.”

Rachel laughed. “I’ll look like a disco ball!”

“You’ll look swanky and glam, I promise.”

“I don’t have time for another shower if I don’t.”

“Trust me,
ma petite chou.”

Rachel sighed. “If Jack thinks it looks stupid I’m totally blaming you.”

Daphne unscrewed the lid with a smile. “Men are simple creatures. When something is shiny their attention is completely captivated.”

When Jack arrived, Rachel noted with pleasure that Daphne once again knew what she was talking about. “Whoa” was the first thing out of his mouth. “You look amazing, babe.”

“Doesn’t she though?” Daphne sidled out of her room, and Rachel’s jaw dropped. In the less than ten spare minutes they’d had before Jack was to arrive, Daphne had given herself a turbo makeover and dressed as though she were heading to the clubs.

“Hey, Daphne.” Jack said with a smile. Rachel couldn’t help noticing his eyes lingering a little longer than necessary on Daphne’s svelte frame. “You going out tonight too?”

Daphne sniffed and gave her shoulders a little shrug as though shaking off a chill. “I’m meeting some friends for drinks in a little while.”

“You are?” Rachel raised a brow. “You didn’t mention that before.”

“I didn’t think you’d be interested.”

The silence in the room lasted a beat too long. Rachel finally broke it. “Well, have fun then. Shall we go, Jack?”

“Sure.” He gave Daphne a final nod and smile, then held the door open for Rachel. “This way, gorgeous. Have fun, Daphne.”

“You too, love.”

Rachel fumed all the way to the car. Once safely inside, she let out a huff of anger. “I cannot believe her.”

“What?”

“She was coming on to you!”

Jack chuckled. “I doubt it.”

“I don’t. ‘Love’? Give me a break.”

“But I’m dating you; why would she do that?”

“Because she’s jealous.”

Jack tipped his head, conceding. “I understand that. I am a rather desirable bachelor.…” He winked and she couldn’t help smiling. “But you have nothing to worry about because I don’t believe in two-timing on my girlfriends.”

Rachel laughed. “Thanks. I’m very glad to hear it, believe me.”

“Ah, right.” He gave her a squeeze. “Had your fill of that kind of thing, eh?”

“Oh yes.”

“I’ll make a note of her interest in the event that we break up, though.”

Rachel smacked him on the arm. “Enough of this, before
I
start getting jealous.”

Jack laughed. “A compliment I don’t take lightly. Thank you.”

He navigated through the Chicago rush-hour traffic with his usual driving gusto, and by the time they pulled into the parking lot Rachel’s hand was cramped from clutching the door handle. He led her through the parking lot to Ballo, a brick-façade restaurant that screamed “hip” before you even saw the interior. Funky 70s hits streamed out onto the sidewalk when the door opened. Rachel quickly saw Ballo was a couple steps up from the average Italian eatery. The partylike atmosphere coupled with the décor and music gave it a nightclub feel. It was by far the nicest restaurant she’d ever been in. Jack scored yet another handful of points in her mind—the best Patrick had ever done was The Cheesecake Factory for their one-year anniversary. He scored some more when they sat down. “We’re doing the whole shebang, okay? Appetizers, desserts, wine, everything. So go crazy.”

They did just that. The food kept coming, huge portions and all delicious. Rachel deferred to Jack on what wine to order, and he deferred to the waiter, who brought a chardonnay to accompany their main courses. Jack had tipped off the waiter about Rachel’s birthday when she was in the washroom, and her dessert came with candles. By the time they left, Rachel felt overfed and tipsy, but was charged by the music and atmosphere and the fact that she’d been treated to such a wonderful evening.

They wandered back to the car, Rachel hanging on to Jack’s arm to keep her balance in the potholed lot and letting her thoughts swim in her mind. She felt daring, a little reckless, uninhibited by the almost three glasses of wine she’d imbibed. When they reached the car she let herself pin him to the door with a kiss. “This was the best birthday present ever.”

“Glad I could wow you,” Jack said, his arms encircling her waist. “You deserve it. It’s a little sad that a nice dinner out is the best present you’ve ever gotten, though. What kind of loser was your fiancé, anyway?”

Rachel laughed, though she was embarrassed. She’d settled with Patrick, but she hadn’t even realized it. Why not? Had she really been that blinded by his charm? She felt foolish when she realized how much better Jack treated her when they weren’t even engaged.

“Uh-oh—I shouldn’t have brought him up. I can see it in your eyes. Why did I bring up bad thoughts on such a good night?”

“No, no, it’s okay.” Rachel leaned her face against Jack’s chest and inhaled the scent of his aftershave. It brought back the memory of Vegas. “I just feel dumb for having stayed with him for so long. I didn’t realize at the time how lame he was.”

He shrugged and rested his chin on her head. “Well, it could have ended a lot worse. You could have figured that out five years into your marriage.”

She shuddered. “I can’t believe I could have been married to him by now!” She stood back, swaying slightly. “What a colossal mistake that would have been. Whew! And a lucky thing for you, too,” she added, her eyes twinkling. “To think you could have missed out on me.”

Jack laughed. “Thinking pretty highly of yourself now, aren’t you?”

“Well, you know ...” He laughed, and she fell against him and kissed him again, and a rush of desire made her whole body tingle. Jack’s response told her he was experiencing the same thing. She broke away just enough to ask, “So … what now?”

“Your place or mine?”

“Mine.” She wanted to be home, where she felt safe, if things started getting serious. She had a feeling Jack wouldn’t just drop her off with a quick kiss on the landing. In fact, she hoped he wouldn’t.

Their conversation was sparse on the drive back, but the sexual tension was palpable. Rachel’s palms were damp with anticipation. She thought of all the times she and Patrick had made out and then broken apart, breathless and flushed, one of them saying, “No, we need to wait.” She was tired of waiting. She was tired of closing off a part of her mind and body to something that was so natural. And frankly, she was starting to think waiting wasn’t the big deal everyone made it out to be. How unromantic would it be on your honeymoon to be fumbling around, completely clueless, embarrassed at being seen naked for the first time? Didn’t it make more sense to get a little practice in first, so The Big Night was memorable for something other than awkwardness?

The closer to home they got, the surer she was that tonight would be the night. Jack would certainly be game, and chances were he had some experience, so at least one of them knew what to do. Better to get the first time over and done with than to hold on to it as though it made her a better person.

Jack parked on the street and opened her door. She slid out of the seat and wrapped her arm through his, allowing him to lead her to the stairs. Once they were inside, she closed the door, dropped her purse to the floor, and wrapped her arms around his neck, more than ready to get things going.

When she began to tug at his shirt, his hands grabbed hers and he broke the kiss. “Whoa, whoa—what are you doing?”

She tried unsuccessfully to suppress a giggle. “I thought it would be obvious without me spelling it out.” She leaned in to kiss him again, but he edged back and she nearly fell over.

“Rachel, no.”

Her breath caught in her chest. “What?”

“I’m pretty sure you’re drunk. And we’ve only been together a few months—”

“You’re shooting me down?” Her voice squeaked. Embarrassment squeezed her chest.

“I’m not rejecting you, I’m just … I don’t think we should tonight, that’s all.”

She let out an ungracious snort, ire rising to defend her pride against searing humiliation. “What are you, a teenage girl? Don’t tell me you’re a virgin or something.”

“What if I am?”

Her jaw dropped. “You are?”

His chin raised a fraction of an inch. “I didn’t think you were the type to mock me for it.”

“I—I’m not. I’m just surprised.”

His eyes narrowed. “You thought I was some player or something?”

“No, I—I mean, you were so forward in Vegas—”

“Kissing is one thing. But not every guy lives for sex, you know.”

“I know, I just didn’t think you, um …”

“I what?”

She rubbed a hand over her forehead, flustered. “Jack, I’m sorry, I swear I wasn’t trying to suggest—”

“Look, Rachel.” The firm set of his mouth told her she wasn’t being let off the hook. “Don’t think I don’t know that you’re a virgin too. And I don’t appreciate being taken advantage of. If you’re with me just so you can sow your wild oats or something, then we need to end this. I’m not just looking for a good time, okay?”

She sniffed and blinked back the tears of shame that stung her eyes. “That’s not my intent.”

“Good.” He took a deep breath. “I’m gonna go. I open tomorrow, so I need to get to bed.”

“Okay.”

He kissed her forehead. “See you at lunch.”

“Okay.”

He let himself out and she was left alone in the living room, stomach roiling, soul aching, and hating herself for the first time in her life.

Chapter 14

Fortified with her strongest brew—which had been further fortified with a shot of Baileys—Rachel entered the café the next afternoon determined not to avoid Jack out of the embarrassment she still felt. He greeted her as though nothing had happened, but that didn’t make her feel any better. She’d rather have it all out than dance around it or pretend nothing had happened.

She’d wondered a few times what she’d do in this situation, but she’d always assumed she’d be the one standing up for her virtue. She hadn’t expected to be the offending party. All of her “what if” musings had ended with her graciously extending forgiveness—not hoping it would be extended to her. She grew itchy with anticipation as the first hour of her shift ticked away without them having enough time to talk one on one.

Finally a lull in business and a chance meeting in the supply room gave her an opportunity. “I’m so sorry,” she blurted before he had a chance to say anything. “I’m so embarrassed and I really hope you don’t think any less of me. I didn’t mean—”

“Rach, calm down, seriously.” Jack hugged her and kissed the top of her head. “It’s all right. Forgiven and forgotten.” He pulled back and studied her. “But I did mean what I said. I’m not in this just to waste some time and have some mindless fun. I’m serious about you. I enjoy being with you, and I really care about you. If the feeling isn’t mutual—”

“It is,” she said quickly, unwilling to give herself any time to think about the words she was saying. When she was sure no one was watching, she gave him a quick but solid kiss to back up her statement. “And thank you for not holding it against me.”

She saw relief written in his features. “I’m glad to hear we’re on the same page. And you’re welcome.” The sound of the front door chimes distracted them both, and Jack pulled away. “Customers call. If we don’t have another chance to really talk today, have a good shift, all right? Call me when you get home.”

“You too, and I will.” She watched him duck back into the front room and take a cup from Leah to start a drink before she went back to hunting for the box of plastic utensils she’d been looking for while her mind churned.

She felt unstable in her friendship with Daphne and her relationship with Jack, and the insecurity colored every minute of her day. Daphne was like Jekyll and Hyde lately. One minute she was snarky and bordering on cruel. The next she was sympathetic and sisterly. Rather than laugh or tease her when Rachel told her about Jack shooting her down, Daphne had been consoling and encouraging, albeit a little distracted. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing, poor guy. I doubt he’ll hold out for much longer.”

Rachel had waited for a biting comment, but it never came. She was even more surprised when Daphne apologized to her. “I know I’ve been a jerk lately, and I’m sorry.”

“Oh—that’s all right.”

“No, no, it’s not. I just want you to know that I know it’s been weird. I’m dealing with some of my own junk right now, and I’ve been taking it out on you. You’re safe, you know? I know you’ll always love me and want to be my friend even if I suck.”

“Of course I will,” she had said with a hug. Then, puzzled, she’d pulled away. “So what junk is this?”

“Oh, just … stuff.” She’d waved a hand and wandered into the kitchen, changing the subject to something else entirely. Rachel had been unable to steer things back before having to go to bed and had fallen asleep wondering why Daphne was being so secretive.

And Jack—if only he hadn’t put her on the spot like that, asking about her intentions in their relationship. How was she supposed to be honest when the truth would have required a serious discussion? He should know better than to ask heavy questions like that in passing. But now he believed she was in this relationship all the way, even when her intentions had never been more than to just ease back into the dating game.

She found the box she needed but procrastinated bringing it out to the front. She needed to think for a minute.
Would it really be so bad to devote myself to this relationship and try to make it work long term? Jack’s a wonderful guy. Why wouldn’t I want to be with him for … years? Or even decades?
It wasn’t Jack that made her gun-shy, she realized. It was commitment. She wasn’t ready to take that chance again. But what was she going to do about Jack, then?

She felt a headache coming on. She hauled the box up front and poured herself a cup of the day’s special blend and gave Jack her warmest smile when they made eye contact.
It’ll all work out
, she assured herself as she refilled the utensil holders on the counter. And if it didn’t, well, it couldn’t possibly be worse than the mess she’d left behind in California.

o

Rachel had just finished balancing the register when Ruby Jean came out. “Looks like you’re about done,” Ruby Jean said as she glanced at the clock.

Rachel was embarrassed at how long past her shift her closing duties were taking her. “Just about, yeah. Leah already left. I’m just slow tonight.”

“Something on your mind?”

She laughed. “How did you know?”

“Just a lucky guess. Want to talk about it?”

Rachel shut the register drawer. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Want to go for a drink, vent a bit? I know when I’m hashing something out in my head it helps to get it out—sort of releases it all from the confines of my skull and gives it all a fresh perspective.”

“Absolutely, I’m up for it. Where to?”

Ruby Jean led her down the street to a small pub where the artistic bottles behind the bar made Rachel’s head buzz with anticipation. They took their seats at a booth next to the window, and Ruby Jean bought the first round. Rachel savored her first taste of Skyy Blue, then chased it with two more sips before posing a question to Ruby Jean. “Are you at all religious, R. J.?”

“Oh, absolutely.” Ruby Jean set her beer on a coaster and settled into her seat. “I believe we’re all spiritual beings, not just physical. And the way people explore and express their spirituality fascinates me. My mom was a sociologist, and she studied a lot of religions in her work. I think I picked up a lot of my interest from her. My dad was a philosopher, not a big believer in organized religion, and he always seemed to me like he was fighting something—always arguing with my mom about metaphysics and all sorts of other things I never really understood.” She shrugged and took a sip of her drink. “It always seemed to me that he was fighting the idea of spirituality, and I think that’s why he never seemed calm.” Her gaze locked onto Rachel’s. “How about you? You mentioned a mission trip at your interview—I take it you’re a Christian?”

Rachel sighed. “I think that’s part of my problem right now. I always was, from as far back as I can remember. But now … I don’t know where I stand with God, or even on the concept. Honestly, I can’t even wrap my head around a world where there’s no God or Jesus. It makes no sense to me. But I left behind a lot of crap in California that really made me question him for the first time.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Ruby Jean’s expression was one of sympathy, and Rachel was encouraged to have found someone to talk to. Daphne had no interest in spirituality, and Jack was neither here nor there on the idea. She needed input from someone who could relate to her connection to the spiritual world. “I wasn’t raised with any one belief system,” Ruby Jean continued, “but I can imagine it must be very difficult to have that rug pulled out from under you.”

“Yes, exactly. Though I can’t imagine what it’s like to grow up without any kind of spiritual guidance, the way you did. It formed the foundation of my whole world. Some of my earliest memories are of church activities.”

“Oh, I wasn’t raised without spiritual guidance—just without a focus on one specific religion.” Ruby Jean spun a coaster on the table as she talked. “My mom was a great believer in the spiritual world, even though my father wasn’t. She taught me about all the religions she studied, and our house’s decor was a mishmash of religious stuff—Chinese Buddhist prayer rugs on the walls, statues of Hindu gods on the mantel, and Egyptian goddess statues on the bookshelf, prayer wheels and crosses and altars, you name it.”

“So did any of it actually affect your everyday life? Or was it just a bunch of stuff around your house?”

“Oh, no, it definitely sank in. I grew up celebrating all sorts of holidays and trying to connect to the spiritual world through all kinds of rituals—meditation, yoga, chanting, praying the rosary.”

“The rosary? Seriously?”

“Oh sure. It’s very calming, very soothing. You know how sometimes you need to relax, but you’re too keyed up to just let everything go and quiet your mind? Praying the rosary was great for that. The repetition was relaxing, almost hypnotizing, and the words gave my mind something to focus on, and the beads gave my hands something to do. Great all around, and a lot healthier than, say, lighting up a cigarette.”

“But did you believe any of the words? I don’t know much about the rosary, but I know that Mary and Jesus and the Lord’s Prayer all figure into it. Did you—
do
you—believe in Jesus and Mary and the words of the Lord’s Prayer?”

“Well, yes and no. I believe Jesus existed, and he certainly must have had a mother if he did. And given the kind of man Jesus was, his mother must have been pretty amazing, too. You could do a lot worse than to look to them for inspiration.”

“But the Lord’s Prayer—‘Our Father, who is in heaven’ and all that—those are specifically Christian beliefs. How could you pray those words and also pray to Buddha and Zeus or whoever?”

Ruby Jean laughed. “Well, Buddha wasn’t a god, so people don’t pray to him. But I know what you’re saying.” She thought a minute. “I guess I just see it all as different manifestations of the same entity, or life force, or whatever. Christians call it the Trinity, Muslims call it Allah, Native Americans call it the Great Spirit, and so on. They’re all just synonyms, really. And depending on my mood, or the situation at hand, one spiritual tradition feels more ‘right’ and makes more sense to turn to than the others.”

Rachel opened her mouth to ask another question and found she had nothing to say. She knew the responses she would normally give—she was well armed with Christian apologetics. But now, without solid faith in Christianity, she had no basis from which to evaluate Ruby Jean’s beliefs. She filled the gap with another long sip from her drink. “I’m stumped, honestly,” she said finally.

Ruby Jean chuckled. “It’s a very different approach than what you were raised with; I’m not surprised it doesn’t make sense to you. But, for the most part, it’s worked for me for forty years. I just feel people get very insular and exclusionary when they start making absolute assertions about their beliefs. It makes more sense to me to acknowledge that we’re all looking for the divine and have our own way of connecting with it.” She cocked her head, staring Rachel down. “So, if I may ask—since moving to Chicago, what has your spiritual life been like?”

It didn’t take long for Rachel to come up with an answer. “I haven’t had one. I haven’t prayed, I haven’t gone to church, I haven’t read my Bible. Not a day went by in California when I didn’t do at least one of those things, if not all three. But since I’ve been here …” She shrugged. “Nothing.”

“And have you noticed the absence of those things?”

The answer that came to her was a surprise. “You know, I think I have. I just haven’t let myself think about it much. It’s all too confusing. I mean, if those things were … I don’t know … vital? True? Right? I don’t know what word to use for them. But whatever it is, if they were that, then I guess I feel like things would have turned out differently. I wouldn’t have been completely screwed over by the most important people in my life.”

Ruby Jean rubbed her thumbs through the condensation on her glass. “In the Baha’i faith, suffering is believed to be either the consequence of your own actions or a test sent by God to perfect you. If you take the position of the victim, rather than the position of a student being challenged, then you can miss the lesson that suffering can teach you. Buddhism teaches that suffering is the result of desire, and that eradicating desire will eradicate suffering. Both Hinduism and Buddhism include doctrines of karma—the belief that ‘what goes around comes around,’ essentially.”

Rachel frowned. “I’m confused. If you were me, which one would you look to in order to make sense of what had happened?”

Ruby Jean shrugged. “Depends on what had happened and what I felt needed to happen in order to make up for it or help me feel better.”

“So … you don’t have some hard-and-fast rule saying that you’ll go to Buddhist beliefs when X happens, or Catholic beliefs when Y happens—you just go wherever you think feels right?”

Ruby Jean beamed at her, as though she’d just deciphered the spiritual Rosetta stone. “Exactly.”