Page 1 of Love on the Brain
CHAPTER1
Late.
Jane Porter Allen hated the word. Being on time was being late. Beingactuallylate was irresponsible and unforgivable. For her, anyway. She didn’t hold others to that standard, of course. Being a PK—pastor’s kid—she knew and gave grace generously and unconditionally, to whoever needed it, whenever they needed it.
Being a single mom of a five-year-old, she couldn’t afford herself the same luxury. If she slacked, even a little, she’d slide back into a time when she hadn’t had to hold everything together by herself. But unlike that time in her life, she no longer had a partner to have her back. Now, all the responsibilities were all on her.
So she made the most of her time, working an overnight shift at the hospital, even knowing her son was two days from surgery. A son for whom time was running short. She left extra early from the hospital for the dedication ceremony on Piney Point so she could help out her sister, Shelby, and offer any last-minute encouragement.
She hadn’t anticipated the road closure.
A moose had decided the middle of the road would be a good place give birth.
Decidedmight have been an unfair word choice. A twinge of remorse tugged on her heart. She should have more sympathy for the moose, having given birth herself. One wasn’t always in the ideal setting for impending motherhood. Without her husband, Casey, carrying her up the stairs and to the car when her water broke, Noah would have been born in the basement of Crane’s Cove Congregational Church. As it was, she’d barely made it to the hospital in time.
Jane turned in to the long driveway that led up the hill to the family home of Shelby’s best friend, Kat. The old rose-colored Queen Anne was from another era and had been updated over the past few months for its new purpose.
She passed the old carriage house, now a garage and loft apartment where Shelby’s fiancé, local cop Damon Saunders, lived. A row of cars lined the side of the long driveway that led up the hill to Kat’s family home, fondly called the “big pink house” by their groups of friends. After the ceremony, it would be officially named the Elisabeth Porter House in memory of Jane and Shelby’s mother. Kat donated it to Shelby when she’d created the Elisabeth S. Porter Foundation in memory of their mother last fall.
Jane pulled to the side and parked Casey’s old hybrid behind the last of the cars and frowned disdainfully at the distance up the hill. For privacy purposes, the ceremony was taking place in the back of the house, at the top of the cliff that overlooked the cove.
Cataloging the familiar vehicles she passed reminded her of the exclusive guest list of those privy to the purpose of the establishment: the classic T-Bird belonging to Sadie Donovan, a former FBI agent, and her husband, Steve, a former police chief, who in their retirement now ran the Cliffside Diner; the work-issued Escalade driven by bodyguard Jack, Molly’s husband; Kevin Conway’s construction company truck; Fire Lieutenant Blakely’s Harley-Davidson; Tracy Walker’s minivan; Tonya Sadler’s Seaside Stories van.
And a sedan she didn’t recognize with Vermont plates. She wracked her brain, picturing the guest list she and Shelby had gone over and over again. No one came to mind. Maybe it was a rental? Right, her in-laws were attending! They’d flown in from Texas the night before so they could be with her at the hospital for Noah’s surgery. Her father or Shelby must have invited them, thank goodness. She groaned at her oversight. Why hadn’t she thought to include them?
There was Kat’s red SUV, then Jane’s dad’s old Explorer. She peeked inside, smiling at Noah’s booster seat and grateful to her father for getting her son up and going in the mornings she worked. Finally, there was the Honda owned by Caroline, Shelby and Molly’s new roommate, and Shelby’s Jetta, their dad’s old car.
All eyes were on her as she rounded the building. As they should be. They couldn’t start without her. The small crowd gathered, their hoods up, huddled together to soften the sting of the whipping January cliffside winds on the cove side of the house. They faced the porch, where a wide red bow stretched between the two columns that framed the back entrance.
Walk of shame,she thought bitterly, her hands balling to fists in the pockets of her gray peacoat. The phrase didn’t fit her overnight activity, but she felt the weight it implied. Cheeks burning, she gave a half-hearted apologetic smile to her father and Shelby, who stood on the stoop of the porch.
Jane made a beeline for Noah, tucked into the center of the group between Damon and Molly’s stepson, Jamie. But she didn’t see Casey’s parents. Another brief scan of the crowd didn’t provide a clue to who owned the mystery car. Unless Lexi now had a vehicle? The mom and her three children were the first guests to live in the Elisabeth Porter House. Lexi stood at the fringe of the group, deep in conversation with Lt. Blakely.
“Mommy’s here!” Noah bounced excitedly, and Jane smiled, bending to lift him into her arms.
“Shh,” she cooed as she nuzzled his neck and kissed his cheek. “Grandpa’s about to start.”
Noah wiggled down her body, and she reluctantly let him go. Behind her father and sister, the door squeaked open and a man appeared. Her breath left her, but her mouth spread into a wide grin as she recognized the familiar, tall and built frame of Casey’s best friend.
Ryan.
He’d arrived a day early.
Of course he had. Like Jane, he also lived by the mantra that being on time was being late. That was how they met, after all. Being two PKs arriving thirty minutes before the start of the campus ministry’s informal freshman meet-and-greet, they’d had plenty of time to share stories and become fast friends.
Ryan had beenherbest friend, too, once upon a time. Inseparable from her through college, he’d even been with her when she’d received the call that her mother had been killed and insisted on flying to Maine with her and handling the travel arrangements so that she didn’t have to worry about anything except getting home to her family. He’d made her first appointment with her longtime therapist and for years after called to check in and see if Jane was still seeing her regularly.
Ryan, who’d introduced her to Casey when their college varsity baseball teams faced off preceding spring break of their junior year. Ryan, who snuck away from his medical studies to be the best man at their wedding. Ryan, who’d insisted on accompanying her to Noah’s surgery tomorrow, to assuage her fears and answer all the questions only a pediatric neurosurgeon would know.
The last time Jane saw him was at Casey’s funeral. As she stood in the church’s small graveyard, the memories from her mother’s funeral had hit her, and she’d collapsed in a hug against his big body and sobbed, much to the annoyance of his wife.Ex-wife now.
Since then, they’d hardly been in touch. The distance between them grew wider during his short marriage, and he’d closed himself off when he and Sunny separated, moving closer to the children’s hospital and working almost double-time. Jane’s in-laws had kept her informed; their friendship with Ryan’s parents gave them a front seat to all the heartbreak he’d gone through.
Jane didn’t know how to support him. Their messages to each other became more and more surface level as time wore on. He was fine; she was fine. Even though it was clearly evident neither was nor would be anytime soon.
She missed their old connection. She missed how he used to check up on her and make her laugh. She missed how he could make her feel like she could do anything. She needed the old Ryan desperately and at this moment. She knew he cared. She wanted him to fix things like he always had.
Just him being there did wonders for her soul and anxiety. He flashed her a grin, ducked under the ribbon, and hurried to the lawn to stand behind her. “Connie and Dale are inside. Her blood sugar spiked on the way here. They’ll be out in a minute or two.”
