Jane Goes Batty

love. But it meant that eventually Jane would have to give up their friendship. Unless Ben knew about her, he would start wondering why Jane never aged. Lucy would always be hiding something from him, and Jane knew from experience how difficult that was.

This was exactly the situation she’d wanted to avoid. Telling Lucy about herself had been a great relief. But part of her had always worried that it would lead to heartache. Now it seemed destined to do just that. Expecting Lucy to keep such an important secret from the people she loved most was too great a thing to ask. And the more people who knew, the riskier it was for all of them.

I’ve already put them in danger, Jane realized. Just by letting them be my friends.

Another groan from the crowd snapped Jane out of her thoughts. Byron had missed again. With one ball left he once more bent down for Sarah’s kiss. This time, though, she said something in his ear. He nodded and, grinning, stood up.

“Sarah has decided that the third and final throw should go to someone else,” he said. He paused a moment. “Miss Jane Fairfax, would you please join us?”

Jane heard her name repeated by several people in the crowd. She also saw Beverly Shrop search the sea of faces, a bitter expression on her face. Jane had been tempted to slink away, but seeing Beverly’s reaction, the sadness in her turned to anger. Who does she think she is? she thought.

“Excuse me,” she said firmly, making her way toward Byron and Sarah.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” Beverly announced. “Our very own Jane Fairfax, author of Constance, has joined us. Jane, say hello to your fans.”

“Hello,” Jane muttered as Beverly thrust the microphone in her face. “Cheers. Thanks for coming.”

She felt like an idiot. But there was no time to sulk. Byron was handing her the softball, and Sarah was tugging at her hand. Jane bent down to see what the girl wanted.

“I saved this for you,” Sarah whispered, tucking something into Jane’s hand. It was small and sticky, and when Jane looked she saw that a pink candy heart was stuck to her palm. Written across it in red letters was YOU WIN.

She looked at Sarah. “Thank you,” she said. “This is exactly what I needed.”

She tucked the heart in her pocket and took the softball from Byron. “Stand back and let a woman show you how it’s done,” she said.

She stood and looked at Ned seated on the platform. But she didn’t see Ned. She saw Fitzwilliam Darcy. To many he was Jane’s greatest creation, the ideal man to whom no living man could measure up. To Jane, however, he was something else. Not a curse, exactly, but a hindrance. She sometimes felt that ever since creating Darcy she, along with her characters, had been overshadowed by him. He was the one to whom all the others were compared, and more often than not they were found wanting. And as she had yet to create a character equal to Darcy, she too sometimes felt bested by him.

These feelings combined with the sadness that still clung to her, and she felt herself growing very angry. She was angry that Walter’s mother had interfered in their lives, that Miriam was planning the destruction of Byron and herself, that Beverly was taunting her with the ridiculous festival, and that Jessica Abernathy regarded her with distaste. She was angry with Kelly for abandoning her, with Ned for his lack of self-control, and with Julia Baxter for butchering her novel. Most of all, she was angry with herself for allowing it all to happen and for not standing up for herself sooner.

She thought of all of these things as she took aim at the heart-shaped target floating next to Ned’s shoulder. She hadn’t thrown a ball in years, and it felt odd in her hand, too big and unwieldy. She pushed these thoughts from her mind as she pulled her arm back and flung the ball.

It hit the target smack in the center. For a moment Ned’s surprised face stared back at her. Then he dropped into the tank with a colossal splash. As he flailed around trying to get his footing, Sarah’s arms went around Jane’s waist and she said, “I knew you could do it! The heart helped you!”

“Yes, it did,” Jane agreed as the thunderous applause of the crowd filled her ears. Then Beverly Shrop was beside them.

“It looks like we have a winner!” she crowed, glancing sideways at Jane. “And here’s your prize.” She thrust a giant stuffed teddy bear into Jane’s arms. It was made of red plush and had a pair of white wings sewn to the back. In one paw was a bow and arrow. It was hideous.

“Now if you’ll all follow me I’ll take you to the outdoor theater for a pantomime production of ‘Dick Whittington and His Cat.’ ”

“Outdoor theater,” Lucy sneered. “She means the ring where the 4-H kids show their lambs.”

“Still, ‘Dick Whittington and His Cat’ is quite good,” said Jane.

“Oh, it is,” Byron agreed. “I played Sarah the cook in that one at the Surrey Theatre.” To Ben, who was listening with a puzzled expression on his face, he said, “You know, I was quite a respected panto dame at one time. My Widow Twankey was the talk of Drury Lane.”

Jane began to laugh, not even caring that Byron’s slip would require some explanation and coverup later. Then she saw that they were being watched. A dozen yards away, Walter and his mother stood observing them. Miriam’s face was set in a stony frown, while Walter’s eyes were fixed on Jane as he ignored the strawberry ice cream that was dripping from the untouched cone and down his hand.

Lucy followed Jane’s gaze. “Hi, Walter!” she called out. “Hi, Ms. Ellenberg!”

Walter waved, but Miriam turned and walked away. A moment later Walter followed her, giving Jane one last glance as he went after his mother.

“What a mama’s boy,” Lucy said.

“He isn’t really,” Jane said. “It’s just that he … it’s complicated,” she said inadequately.

“He needs to tell her to mind her own business,” said Lucy.

Jane ignored the remark, turning to Sarah. “I believe this belongs to you,” she said, handing the girl the bear.

“Me?” Sarah said. “But I didn’t throw the ball.”

“Ah, but if you hadn’t given me a good-luck charm, I never would have hit the target,” said Jane.

Sarah accepted the bear, putting her arms around it and squeezing. “Thank you!” she said.

“You’re very welcome,” said Jane. She looked at Byron. “Now let’s go home. I’ve had enough romance for one day.”

As they walked back to the parking lot and their cars, Jane looked at the people having fun around her. Some she was sure were there because any fair was an opportunity for fun. Others, though, were there because they were in love with romance, with the idea of love. These were the ones she envied. How wonderful it would be to be so innocent again, to believe that love really would conquer all. It was sentimental and foolish to think such a thing. She knew that. All the same, she wished she could be one of those people.

“I’m surprised to see you here.”

Jane almost ran into Jessica Abernathy, who stood in front of her holding a corn dog on a stick. She surveyed the group as if checking them for weapons, then said, “I thought you would be home working on your novel.”

Byron came to Jane’s defense. “We thought it would do Jane some good to get out of the house for a few hours,” he said. “You know, to unlock her brain.”

“I had no idea her brain had locked up,” Jessica remarked. “That would certainly explain some things.”

“I’m going home right now,” said Jane. “To work.”

Jessica smiled. “Excellent,” she said. “I’ll expect to see some chapters tomorrow.”

“Have a lovely time at the fair,” Byron said to Jessica.

The editor put the tip of the corn dog between her lips and bit it off. “Oh, I intend to,” she said as she began to chew.

“How I hate that woman!” Jane exclaimed as they walked away.

“Daddy says hating people is wrong,” said Sarah. “Isn’t it, Daddy?”

Ben looked at Jane. “Well …”

“Your father is absolutely right,” Jane said quickly. “I shouldn’t say I hate her.”

“But you do,” said Sarah. “I can tell.” She walked in silence for a few moments, then added, “I don’t like that woman either. She looks mean.”

“She’s not mean,” Byron said. “She’s evil.”