Read Online She Poured Out Her Heart by Jean Thompson - Free Book Online Page A

died.”
    â€œYou’re not helping,” Jane’s mother said. “Don’t mind her, Jane dear. She’s only trying to be funny to soothe your nerves.”
    Jane lifted her forearm to deflect the Kleenex. “Please don’t do that, unless I have dirt on my face.” In fact Jane was, if not entirely nerveless, distracted. The day after tomorrow she and Eric were renting a U-Haul truck, loading it with their boxed belongings, and moving themselves from Chicago to Atlanta, where Eric had already begun his residency,and Jane would start the job that had been found for her at Emory. Any honeymoon would have to be deferred. So that instead of approaching her vows in the proper bridal swoon, a part of Jane’s attention was still given over to checklists with subheadings like Bank, Utilities, and Packing Tape.
    Jane’s mother and the attendant cousin and the cousin’s mother, Jane’s aunt, did their best to prod at her and perfect her, but there was no veil or train, no borrowed pearls or something blue, just Jane in her pieced-together costume, wishing, mildly, that she was not the center of attention. “Do you want a 7UP to settle your stomach?” Jane’s mother asked, and Jane said no thanks, and her mother took this to mean that Jane needed something else instead, a Diet Coke? Perhaps her mouth was dry? It wouldn’t do to get up there and not be able to recite her vows. “Cough drop? Maybe just an ice cube to suck on?”
    â€œXanax?” Bonnie offered, wriggling an eyebrow to show that she had some on her. Jane shook her head.
    â€œGo on upstairs and tell them I’m ready.” Bonnie gave her a finger wave and headed out.
    â€œI wish I’d thought of Xanax,” the aunt said. “It really hits the spot. All I have is aspirin. Alex, it’s time to put that thing away,” she said to her daughter, who was still hooked up to her iPod.
    â€œI’m fine,” Jane said stolidly. In her mind the fuss of getting married was just that, because the hard part of things, finding Eric, the two of them finding each other, had already been accomplished. But she did feel a tug of anxiety, wanting to see him, wanting to make sure that in spite of everything, plighting their troth, buying rings, signing leases and all the rest, he had not somehow decided he’d made a mistake and changed his mind. “Let’s move,” she said, getting a good grip on her bouquet.
    They passed through a hallway filled with stacks of retired hymnals. Up the stairs. Jane and the cousin hung back while their mothers took their seats. Jane tried to see around her cousin’s now-unencumbered ear, saw nothing but the half-lit sanctuary and its rows of vacant pews. Themusicians took up a new tune, not “The Wedding March,” but some Scotch-Irish stand-in. Jane gave the cousin a nudge and they moved forward. And there Eric was, all dressed-up and handsome in his gray suit, outright grinning at her. Jane grinned back. The rest would be easy. A walk in the park. “Dearly beloved . . .”
    Later, at the reception (pizza and homemade cake at a friend’s apartment), Jane and Eric stood, arms entwined, happy, tired, gamely smiling. There was a sense that perhaps they had done something extraordinary and important, but that they would have to wait until they were alone to be certain. Eric’s parents—her in-laws! She had in-laws!—kept drifting up to them and attempting conversation. Eric was their only child, and they felt bereft. “I can’t believe we’re going to have to spend Christmas without you,” the mother-in-law said.
    â€œMom, it can’t be helped. Anyway, it’s practically Christmas now.”
    â€œWell it’s not Christmas Christmas,” the mother-in-law said, tearily, giving Jane an aggrieved look. Jane, mortified, smiled harder.
    Jane’s father and brother sat on the couch,