Jane Goes Batty by Michael Thomas Ford

handiwork. Despite the occasional comment about a color she did not care for or a piece of furniture she found not quite right, she was very complimentary. She particularly seemed to appreciate the sheer amount of work that had gone into the restoration, especially after Walter showed them a photo album containing before and after shots of each room.
    “You’ve done a remarkable job,” Jane told him. “The house is extraordinary.”
    “Do you really think so?” he asked.
    “I do,” said Jane. “I think anyone would be happy living in such a beautiful place.”
    “I’m pleased to hear you say that,” Walter said. “Because I’m going to be moving in.”
    “Are you?” Jane exclaimed. “That’s wonderful!”
    Walter smiled. “I’m hoping you’ll live here as well,” he said. “You know, after we’re mar—” He stopped and blushed.
    Jane and Miriam both looked at Walter with surprised expressions.
    Walter, clearing his throat, said, “Oh, dear. That just slipped out.” He took Jane’s hand. “I didn’t plan on asking you this way,” he said. “But now that it’s out, I—”
    “Walter,” Miriam said sharply.
    Jane’s heart raced as she processed what was happening. Had Walter just asked her to marry him? That was impossible.
Not impossible
, she told herself.
Unexpected
.
    “Walter,” Jane heard Miriam say again. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit hasty?”
    “I know you haven’t known Jane very long,” Walter said. “But I have, and I know that I love her.” He squeezed Jane’s hand. “And I believe she loves me.”
    Miriam turned her gaze to Jane. “Is that true?” she asked, her voice cold.
    Jane looked into Miriam’s dark eyes and was surprised by the hatred she saw there. Then she recalled Miriam’s words of the other night.
I know what you are
. She still didn’t know what Miriam had meant by that, but thinking about it angered her.
No
, she thought while staring back at Miriam.
You don’t know what I am. You don’t know anything about me
.
    “Yes,” Jane said. “It’s true. I do love him.”
    She dreaded what she had to say next. Steeling herself, she looked at Walter’s smiling face. “I do love you,” she said. “But I can’t marry you.”

“B UT I THOUGHT YOU
WANTED
TO MARRY HIM .”
    Jane wiped her eyes and looked at Ben Cohen, into whose office she had been surprised to find herself walking ten minutes earlier. After the awkward moment with Walter she had quickly excused herself and fled the Carlyle House, leaving a smirking Miriam Ellenberg and a shocked Walter to watch her retreat. She had first driven to her own home, only to find it overrun by yet another of Beverly Shrop’s tour groups. Next she had gone to the bookstore, but the presence of Ant’s van had forced her to turn around.
    That’s when she’d found herself driving in the direction of Sukkat Shalom. She hadn’t even realized she was going there until she pulled into the parking lot. She’d almost turned right around again. After all, she had met Rabbi Ben Cohen only once. She really knew nothing about him, or he about her. And yet she’d gotten out of Lucy’s truck and entered the synagogue as if some other force were controlling her actions.
    Now she was seated once more in the chair across from the couch, staring at the Pollock hanging on the wall behind the rabbi. Ben Cohen, dressed in jeans and a shirt the color of cornflowers, waited patiently for her to speak.
    “I do,” she said, sniffling. “That’s why I came here in the first place, right?”
    “You tell me,” Ben said.
    “It is,” said Jane. She hesitated. “Well, because of Miriam, anyway.”
    The rabbi nodded. “You wouldn’t have come otherwise?”
    “Why would I?” Jane replied.
    Ben shrugged his wide shoulders. “I don’t know,” he told her. “Why would you?”
    “Stop doing that!” said Jane.
    “Doing what?”
    “That!” Jane said. “Answering everything I say with another