By Proxy
Chapter 1
There are some things you should never agree to do, even for your best friend.
Jenny Lindstrom drummed her fingers on her knee and glanced, for the hundredth time, toward the double doors at the entrance to the county courthouse. From the bench where she sat in the back of the small lobby, she had a good view of incoming traffic.
The doors opened and she gulped with anticipation, but instead of the young man she expected, an older man rushed in, followed by a whoosh of snowy Montana wind. He brushed off his snow-covered sleeves and stomped his boots on the large black mat in front of the doors.
She heard him mutter, “Getting bad out there,” to no one in particular.
Jenny checked her watch. He should be here by now, for heaven’s sake!
Maybe the snow was slowing him down. After all, it had taken her over an hour to drive up to Livingston from Gardiner. But didn’t Ingrid write that he would arrive yesterday? If so, hadn’t that left him ample time to be punctual for their appointment?
Jenny took the printed e-mail out of her purse and re-read Ingrid’s instructions:
…so if you meet there at 2:00 p.m. on December 1, Judge Hanlon should be ready. Kristian’s cousin Sam is tall, blond and hot, Jen. He’s going to stick out like a sore thumb in Livingston—you shouldn’t have any trouble finding him. He promised he would fly in on Thursday night, so he should be able meet you at the courthouse on Friday afternoon.
We can’t thank you enough for what you are doing for us. Baby Svenson thanks you too, Aunt Jenny. We know it’s inconvenient, and you’ll have to skip a day of school. We just couldn’t bear the thought of strangers…
The door whooshed open again, and Jenny looked up to see a young couple enter the courthouse, holding mittened hands. They wiped their boots without a word, taking off their mittens. The man used his hands to sign something to the woman, an expectant look on his face. She smiled at him and nodded, signing something back. He kissed her cheek and took a folded piece of paper out of his pocket, lacing his hands through hers and pulling her toward the stairs. As they passed the bench where Jenny sat, she could just make out the bold-type words on the top of the form he held: Marriage License.
Jenny watched them go up the steps, tears stinging the backs of her eyes. She thought of Ingrid and Kris—so far away, so very much in love—and shook off the sudden loneliness that made a thick lump form in her throat. Silly sentiment. You have a good life, Jenny Lindstrom.
She glanced at her watch again and sighed. An hour late! The courthouse would close at four. She had quizzes to grade at home and Monday’s lesson yet to plan. As it was, her nerves were in shreds. She started to wish she hadn’t agreed to do this in the first place. Having to wait for him as the seconds ticked by was just making matters worse.
She craned her neck to look through the windows that flanked the double doors. The thickness of the falling snow had doubled in the last hour. Maybe tripled. It was only dusting when she had arrived, and now she could see it coming down in thick white flakes. She tried not to think about the drive home later when the sun would be setting and the roads would be slick.
If only Ingrid had given her a cell phone contact number so she could call this Sam and give him a piece of her mind for leaving her waiting like this. But everything was thrown together so last-minute, she’d barely had a chance to ask her principal for an emergency day off.
It never occurred to her to say no to Ingrid. She was raised, like the rest of her kin, to honor servicemen and women…and anyway, Ingrid was like a sister to Jenny, and Jenny would have done just about anything for her. She ran her palms flat against her lap and smoothed out the skirt of her simple gray dress: she bought it on mail order from Sears last winter to wear to her cousin Linnea’s wedding. The irony of wearing the dress again today for its second time wasn’t lost on her.
The doors opened again, and she sat up straighter. A disheveled, older woman entered, her arm held by a younger man who looked to be in his mid-thirties. The woman brushed off her snow-covered skirt, thanking him profusely for his assistance, and he smiled at her solicitously, asking her again and again if she was sure she was all right.
Jenny hadn’t seen another single, young man enter the courthouse all afternoon. This must be him. He had a kind face, rather more filled out than Ingrid led her to believe, but perhaps he’d changed in the years since Ing was deployed. He was about 5’5”, with a protruding round belly, and while his hair may have been blond at one time, there was so little of it left it was hard to tell. Jenny’s heart thumped uncomfortably as she walked briskly to where he stood in front of the double doors, stomping his boots.