April's Fool

I was in the middle of unclogging my toilet after babysitting my precocious five-year-old nephew, Brandon, who had flushed something down it, which had made me realize I wanted to be married but delaying the kid equation was fine with me.

Racing to my phone, I grabbed the handset, the dripping wet plunger in my other hand, and breathlessly said, “Hello?”

“Erica, I have to work late tonight, but if you’re free tomorrow afternoon, I need to talk to you.”

The excitement in his baritone voice sent thrills of expectation through me. My mother would say I was certifiable—I was always so totally optimistic about anything and everything—but I knew this was it.

I’ve never been big on secrets, though, and when I was a kid I always did a pre-Christmas treasure hunt, searching for presents hidden in the attic, closets, or under my parents’ bed. Patience was definitely not one of my virtues.

“Can you tell me what it’s about, Jason?” I was dying to know, but I tried not to sound like I was jumping up and down with expectation.

I could almost hear the smile in his voice when he said, “You’ll have to sit down when I talk to you. Got to run, honey. Peter Garoff came down with a bad case of the flu and I’ve got to pull a double shift tonight.”

“Be careful and I’ll see you tomorrow.” But it wouldn’t be soon enough.

“Noon. I’ll catch a couple of winks, then drop by your place.”

“See you!”

Oh man, this was finally it. After five long years of being best of friends, he was going to ask me to marry him! I was bursting with excitement and I wanted to tell the whole wide world. No one would believe it. Jason Simmons was finally going to ask me to marry him!

Not only do I not like secrets and have to unravel them as soon as I can, I have a devil of a time keeping them. So I was extremely proud of myself when I kept working on the stopped-up toilet until I had cleared the sunken sailboat and pencils instead of calling anyone to tell them the news about Jason.

Then I took a shower and went to bed, wondering where I’d find a wedding gown, who we would invite, where we’d go for our honeymoon—it was like Christmas in March.

I could barely sleep that night, but the secret was dying to come out. My two older sisters had repeatedly told me Jason would never ask me to marry him. Dad told me to find someone else, and my mother had agreed with him. My aunt recommended I keep working on him because he was such a great catch—sweet, sympathetic, considerate—and had a steady job, her main criteria.

My secretary at Nevelle’s Insurance Company waffled between advising me to stay with Jason because he was too good to be true and dumping his butt because he wouldn’t ask me to marry him. Her thoughts on the subject were directly related to her own boyfriend status at the time, which greatly affected her moods.

The next morning was a cold but bright sunny Saturday, and I planned a special pot roast lunch—Jason’s favorite. But the little voice in my head kept nagging me to call the family. Tell them the great news. Show them how wrong they were.

No. No. He hasn’t actually asked. Wait until he does, then share the news.

I vacuumed the whole house and tidied up the place, but every time I neared the phone, I wanted to call just one person. Wouldn’t Mom want to know the good news? Sure she would. I would call her and no one else.

So I did.

“Mom,” I said, while I unloaded the dishwasher, “you won’t believe what Jason called me about last night.”

Mom didn’t say a word. She probably figured I was having another one of my horrible optimist attacks. Unfortunately, no one else in my family had the optimist gene, so none of them could fathom the way I thought.

“He told me he’s got something really important to ask me, and you know me, I don’t like secrets,” I very calmly explained to my mother in my most serious voice, though I felt like I was floating over the moon. “So I asked him what it was about and well, he said I had to sit down before he could tell me.”

Silence.

“You know, as in, ‘I’m going to ask you to marry me’ kind of thing.” I didn’t think it got any clearer than that.

My mother didn’t respond. It was her way of bringing me back down to earth, but I wasn’t ready to come back down.

“Well, isn’t that great, Mom?” I finally prompted, all seriousness gone. My voice vibrated with enthusiasm.

“He’s asked you to marry him?”

Obviously.

“Today, at noon.”

After another pregnant pause, Mom laughed. Now I expected that she would say, “No way,” or some other such pessimistic thing, but nope, she chortled a from-the-gut, heartfelt laugh.

I wasn’t crushed yet.

“April Fools!” she exclaimed.

I glanced at the kitten calendar hanging on the wall. Sure enough, it was April first already. “No, he told me last night,” I said, my tone becoming a bit perturbed.

“No one would ask the woman he wants to marry on April Fools’ Day. It just isn’t done.”

My ire was instantly stoked. I’m sure he didn’t know it was April Fools’ Day today any more than I did, and heck, as if Mom was up on proper wedding proposal etiquette. Dad had told her he was thinking about them getting an apartment together. When Mom asked him what he meant, trying to clarify his intentions, he said, “Well, I meant we’d get married first.” And Dad’s dark brown eyes had sparkled with humor in a roguish sort of way. That was Dad’s proper proposal of marriage, and I always wondered if he was just seeing how Mom would take it about living together—no marriage, unless she’d insisted. Like Jason, Dad had experienced a bad first marriage.

“Jason had to work a double shift last night or he would have asked me then,” I said, defending him.

“Sweetie, he’ll never ask. You’re always getting your hopes up and then they’re dashed again. I just don’t want you to be too upset if he doesn’t ask you.”

“Thanks, Mom.” For all the heartfelt encouragement. Not. “I’ve got to do some more cleaning. I’ll. . .I’ll talk to you later.”

“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you the news. Your dad’s going to get a hair transplant. I didn’t think I could ever talk him into—”

“April Fools,” I said, rolling my eyes, not in the mood to play games.

“Well, it worked on your sisters. I’ll call you later, after Jason pops the question, Erica.”



My optimism was definitely deflated after talking to Mom, and I was feeling more realistic by the time twelve o’clock rolled around. Still, I prepared the pot roast and set the table with my better silverware, shivers of expectation keeping me on my toes.

Not once had I had the urge to call my sisters or my friends, though. Nope. I’d wait for Jason to propose, then I’ll tell them all the good news. I’d prove how wrong they had all been.

At fifteen minutes after the hour and still no sign of Jason, I began to pace. I reminded myself he probably needed more sleep from being up all night working the extra police shift, especially if he’d had a rough night. I didn’t see how he could do it. If I didn’t get ten-plus hours of sleep a night, I was a basket case.

By two, Mom called, and I cringed to see the Caller ID. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything, but I had to know, did Jason ask you to marry him?”

“He had a double shift last night and he’s still trying to catch up on his sleep,” I said with a cheerfulness in my voice that I didn’t truly feel. “I’ll call you later.”

“There’s nothing wrong between the two of you, is there? You sound a little edgy.”

Of course I’m edgy! I should not have told my mother Jason was going to propose. I took a deep, calming breath. “Everything’s fine.”

Except that the pot roast was done two hours ago, I was starving, Jason hadn’t proposed and was probably snoozing away, and I now had a colossal headache. “Call you later, Mom.” Like tomorrow, or next month.

At two-thirty, I stared at the phone. It hadn’t been the first time Jason had slept through his alarm when he was supposed to see me after working a double shift. I needed to get a grip. I didn’t want to wake him when he needed the extra sleep, but—

No buts. He needed his rest. There was nothing worse than being a nagging almost-fiancée, particularly when the groom-to-be was tired.

When the clock turned four, I’d had enough, and I called his apartment. His answering machine took the message. I ran by his place, but his car was gone. I tried his door anyway, but there wasn’t any answer. Had he headed to my house and taken a different route than I had? Cursing myself for my impatience, I hurried home.

Jason’s car wasn’t in my driveway, and when I walked in the door, the phone was ringing. I raced to answer it, but groaned when I saw the Caller ID. Mom. No, I couldn’t update her on the marriage question.

“Oh, Erica, sweetie, Jason’s on the news.”

“What?” My heart fell. I knew it couldn’t be good news the way my mother’s voice shook.

“He’s at Mercy Hospital, injured after he thwarted a bank robbery in progress.”

I barely remembered saying goodbye to my mother or racing over to the hospital. All I could do was pray Jason was all right. But as soon as I found out where his room was, the horrible thought occurred to me—I wasn’t related to him. Would the nursing staff let me see him? I just had to see him.

Tears streaked my face and my eyes were blurry when I reached his room. A sign was posted on the outside of the door, “Only members of the family can visit Jason Simmons.”

Despite this, a couple of police officers came out of his room. At least Jason was in a regular hospital room, not in Intensive Care. The police officers’ faces looked concerned. My heart was in my throat.

I wanted desperately to see Jason, to hold his hand and help him through this, but I knew the hospital staff or police would have notified his mother—and she and I didn’t get along. Actually, she didn’t like any woman who had any interest in her Jason, the baby of the family.

And if Jason was too injured to call me himself. . .I didn’t even want to go there.

A couple of more officers left Jason’s room, seeing to their fallen comrade. I stood wringing my hands, anxiously wanting to see him, but I could just imagine what his mother would do if I walked into the room.

In the waiting area, I saw one of Jason’s best friends, sipping coffee and talking to another policeman I didn’t recognize. I’d seen Jason’s friend at the police station before, though Jason had been cool in his introductions. I wasn’t even sure the guy would remember me. With a heavy heart, I walked over to him, my stomach doing flip-flops. He looked stern, his hair cut in a butcher cut, his brows furrowed while he talked with the other officer.

I reached out my hand, getting Officer Rogers’s attention, and said, “Hi, I’m. . .” I hesitated. I wanted to say Jason’s fiancée. I didn’t want to tell one more person I was just his friend. “I’m, um, his girl. . .friend. Can you—”

And then the tears broke loose. I loved him so much, but at that moment, I felt like a non-entity. His mother was his mother. The police officers were his friends and partners working against crime. Me? I was a. . .friend. And not even eligible to see him.

Instantly, I knew he was going to die and I’d never see him again. He was my best friend, had been for five long years. I hated his ex-wife for causing him so much pain that he was afraid to take a chance with another woman.

Officer Rogers took my arm and led me to a chair. “The doctor said Jason would come out of it all right, but he’s had some memory loss.”

Uncomprehending, I stared at the officer’s sympathetic coal black eyes.

“Miss?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but my throat was clogged with tears. If I’d been the kind of person who didn’t obey the rules, I would have just bulldozed my way into Jason’s room and seen him, even if it meant being thrown out on my ear. But I was the kind of person who would never go in through the door that said exit, who always fully stopped at stop signs, and who always signaled my intentions—always. The sign on the door was meant to keep me out, since I wasn’t a family member. Yet, a small bit of defiance warred with my by-the-book personality. Jason had almost asked me to marry him. Just tell the officer you’re Jason’s fiancée, for heaven’s sake.

Officer Rogers took a deep breath and crouched in front of me. “Erica?”

I couldn’t quit staring at him, tears blurring my vision. He knew my name? Jason had actually told his best friend about me? A small flame of hope began in the pit of my stomach—hope that maybe Jason had confided in his best friend that he was going to ask me to marry him after all.

“Jason’s had a concussion, but the doctor said he’d be all right.”

I wouldn’t be. Not until I could hold Jason’s hand and tell him how much I loved him.

The other officer handed me a box of tissues and I thanked him.

Officer Rogers motioned to the hospital room. “Why don’t you go and see him?”

I couldn’t tell him how I wasn’t family—but I wondered if Jason had even asked for me.

“You’re his fiancée, aren’t you? Go on in and see him. His mother went home a few minutes ago and won’t be back until tomorrow morning,” he said with a small smile, and I wondered then if he knew how she felt towards me.

I didn’t want to lie to Jason’s friend—a police officer and co-worker to boot—but if he thought I was Jason’s fiancée, maybe Jason had told Officer Rogers he was going to ask me to marry him. Still, I didn’t feel right lying about it, pretending to be something I was not. On the other hand, I couldn’t give up the chance to see Jason.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice very small. I sounded as guilty as I felt. My eyes burned with fresh tears and the lights seemed brighter in the hospital waiting room.

With my legs shaking, I hurried to Jason’s room before I chickened out.

Inside, I found Jason sleeping with monitors hooked up to his chest, an IV attached to his wrist, and a bandage wrapped around his head. His skin was pale and his breathing light. But as soon as I touched his free hand, his eyes opened. His normally electric blue eyes looked dazed, and he seemed to stare right through me.

“Jason, honey,” I said softly, trying not to dissolve into another bout of tears.

His focus never changed and my heart was torn. But I noticed when I tried to move away from his bed to pull a chair closer, he wouldn’t let go of my hand. His action gave me a new surge of hope that he’d be all right.

Officer Rogers poked his head into the room and I felt even more anxious, thinking he’d finally found out I wasn’t Jason’s intended and was ready to throw me out for impersonating a “family” member.

“Everything all right? Would you like me to move the chair closer for you?”

“Yes, thank you,” I said, intensely relieved.

“He’ll be as good as new with you looking after him,” Officer Rogers said. “There’s nothing harder than that head of his. Bill’s the name.” He moved the chair close to the bed.

Before I could thank him, he was out of the room in a flash. Jason still held my hand with a titan grip, and I wondered if subconsciously he could hear my voice. I sat down next to the bed. “I’m so glad you’re going to be all right, Jason,” I told him, not sure if he was hearing a word I said or not. He never really looked me in the eyes, and I figured it was due to the concussion he’d had.

For hours, I talked to him in a soothing, loving manner, encouraging him, even joking a little. At one point, I heard one of the police officers telling the nursing staff outside of the room that I was Jason’s fiancée. I felt my cheeks blossom with heat that spread all the way to my toes. I hoped Jason wouldn’t be furious with me once he was feeling his usual self. Then the awful notion occurred: if he had memory loss, would he remember me? What if he did but didn’t remember he was going to ask me to marry him?

Then sometime in the middle of the night, I fell asleep with my head next to Jason’s chest. When I woke, his hand rested on the crown of my head, and I wondered if it was intentional or not.

And then I heard a woman’s voice, the sound like broken glass. “What are you doing in here?” Jason’s mother snapped. Her blonde hair was teased up in a big bubble and she waved a bright red fake nail at me when she talked. “You’re not family.”

“Erica,” Jason said under his breath, sounding weak but determined. His eyes were still shut tight, and he didn’t say anything more.

I wished he’d tell his mother we were engaged and to back off. And then I regretted my thoughts. Poor Jason could have been killed, and all I could think of was myself.

I rose from the chair and kissed Jason on the lips, for his mother’s benefit. If I had made him feel better during the night just by being there, what difference did it make that I wasn’t family—yet? I know I wouldn’t have been able to sleep back home as worried as I was over him.

“I’ll be back in a little while, honey,” I said to him, also for his mother’s benefit.

She gave me the evil eye. Her cheeks were red, and her eyes narrowed in annoyance.

“Mrs. Simmons,” I said, and then left.

Two police officers greeted me as soon as I exited the room. “Miss Winston,” they both said. There was a definite glint in the gentlemen’s eyes, and their lips curved up slightly like they were in on an inside joke.

I returned home and showered, changed, and grabbed a piece of toast before I headed back to the hospital. This time I would go in through doors marked ‘exit,’ say I was Jason’s fiancée, and skip the by-the-rules me—anything to be able to stay with Jason for the rest of the day. His mother would not deter me. Unless she told the nurses I wasn’t related to him, and I wouldn’t put it past her to do so.

I stiffened my back. She wasn’t keeping me away from Jason.

But I was instantly thwarted when I arrived at the hospital. His mother was already making arrangements to take him home to her house as soon as she was able, and that meant I wouldn’t see him until he fully recovered.

A new group of police officers loitered in the hallway drinking coffee. I wondered then if they were here guarding Jason and his life was in danger.

Approaching the men, I said, “I’m—”

“Erica Winston,” one of the men said and smiled.

I swallowed hard. The whole force had probably been told that Jason’s fiancée came to see him at the hospital. When Jason got back to work, he’d kill me.

“I. . .I. . .Jason’s not in any danger from the bank robbers, is he?”

“No, ma’am,” a redheaded officer said. “He took two of them down before the third man struck him, and all three are in jail right now.”

I let out my breath with relief.

“We’re just here to make sure he comes out of this all right,” another of the officers said.

I looked at the doorway, wanting to barge in and claim my right to see Jason, but my backbone shriveled. How would it look if I had a fight with Jason’s mother while he was still doing so poorly?

“She’s left to have breakfast,” the redheaded officer said, a brow lifted as if punctuating his statement.

I gave him a small smile. “Thanks.” Then I hurried into the room.

Jason opened his eyes and smiled at me. My heart went out to him and I rushed to the bed. “Oh my gosh, Jason, how do you feel?”

“Better, now that you’re here.”

I leaned over the bed and gave him a hug as best I could with him hooked up to monitors. Then I gave him a searing kiss with promises of more.

When I sat next to the bed, he held onto my hand. “The guys told me you were here all night.”

Did they mention that I’d fibbed so I could stay in the room with Jason all night, too? I wasn’t about to bring it up if he wasn’t.

“Are. . .are you all right?” I was dying to ask if he recollected all his memories now, particularly about what he wanted to tell me that was so important on April Fools’ Day.

He closed his eyes and then opened them. “I. . .I can’t remember what happened at the bank. Bill Rogers gave me the details of the robbery, but I can’t recall any of it.”

Did he remember what he was going to talk to me about? I sat on nettles, wanting to question him, but I couldn’t make myself ask the inquiry on the tip of my tongue. I mean, here the poor guy has suffered a terrible injury and all I want to know is was he going to ask me to marry him?

“Do. . .do you remember last night?”

“My guardian angel slept next to me,” Jason said with a hint of a sparkle in his dulled blue eyes.

“So the guys didn’t have to tell you I was here?”

“They did anyway, just to make sure I was aware you were here and coming back soon. I think they thought it would help me recover sooner.”

“I’d hoped so, too. How come you took such a risk to try and take down three bank robbers on your own? It was in the middle of the night, so they must not have had any hostages.” I hadn’t meant for my voice to be so scolding, but I couldn’t help being upset with him for risking his life so.

“I can’t remember what happened,” he said, caressing my hand.

I felt a half-inch tall. “Do. . .do you remember what you wanted to talk to me about yesterday?”

He looked blank, and I wanted to scream at the unfairness of life.

“You said I needed to sit down before you told me what you needed to,” I prompted.

He shook his head slightly, then winced.

“Do you recall what happened a few days earlier? How we went to the movies and saw that spy thriller?”

“Yes. I remember that.”

Relieved, I squeezed his hand. “So, it’s just around the time of the bank robbery that you don’t recall. Do you remember calling me and telling me you’d come over in the afternoon after you slept?”

“No, but I most often did, so I assumed I would have.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but heard his mother talking to the police officers—or rather, they were detaining her outside of Jason’s room. I loved every one of them.

Jason gave me a look like he wanted me to stay but didn’t want to upset his mother. I wasn’t family, his actions reminded me. And now I wondered if I ever would be.

“Do you want me to go?” I asked, my heart cracking with disappointment.

“It might be better.”

The battle lines had been drawn; he and his mother stood on one side, and I stood on the other. With tears in my eyes, I hastily kissed Jason goodbye—on the cheek this time—and made my way out of the room without a backward glance. My family was right; Jason would never ask me to marry him.

The police officers seemed sympathetic when Jason’s mother gave me another look that would kill as I passed her in the hall.

“Can we do anything for you?” the redhead asked.

Get rid of Jason’s irritating mother? “No, thank you,” I said under my breath.

“We’ll give you word when she’s gone,” one of the other officers said.

But there was no need. Jason had sided with his mother. He was all right and would continue to get better without me. He would recuperate at his mother’s home when he was discharged from the hospital.

It was time for me to look elsewhere for a relationship.

I immersed myself in work the next few weeks. I avoided calling Jason because the only time I tried, his mother intercepted the call and told me he needed rest so I shouldn’t bother calling—he’d call me.

But he didn’t. And I knew that was the end.

Alyssa, my secretary, tried to get me to date a friend of hers who’d just broken up with his girlfriend. Alyssa was in her “break-up-with-Jason” mood, but this time I couldn’t agree with her more. I’d always thought Jason’s ex-wife was the problem in their marriage, but now I was beginning to think that his mother was the real trouble.

Then I got the call I’d been waiting for. I’d just finished babysitting my nephew and was cleaning up the milk glass he’d broken—reminder to self: pick up plastic cups for junior—when the phone rang and I saw it was Jason on the Caller ID. I hesitated, the first time I’d ever done so. I needed to tell him that I wanted to remain friends but that I needed to date someone else. I knew we could never be “just friends,” though, because of the way I felt about him. But apparently, he didn’t feel the same about me.

I couldn’t answer the phone. I didn’t want to tell him it was over between us, yet I couldn’t go on like this.

He left a message. “I’m sorry I haven’t called before this, Erica. Between therapy sessions and Mom’s keeping a tight rein over me to ensure I don’t hurt myself further, I haven’t had the chance to call. I’m back at my apartment though.”

That was it. No “Hi, honey, so sorry I haven’t called you in all this time.” No “I love you and have finally come to my senses. I want to be with you and not with my momma.”

I deleted the message. Tomorrow, if Alyssa’s friend was still looking for someone to go out with, I’d be available.

But I couldn’t do it. The next day at work, all I could think of was Jason sitting all alone at home until he got the green light to return to duty. Well, heck, he could ask his mother to come sit with him.

He called me at work, but I was conveniently on the phone with clients, or out on business calls. Alyssa gave me a funny kind of smile when Jason called for the last time before I went home. “Guess you’re really over him, huh? Want to go out with Jack Ralston?”

“Maybe later.”

Maybe never was more like it. I couldn’t get Jason out of my system no matter how much I tried. I was absolutely hooked on him, but now I was no longer an optimist about our relationship. I was a realist. And the best thing I could do was stay away from him, just like going cold turkey on smoking. I couldn’t see him just one more time, or talk to him, or anything. I needed to keep my distance, and hopefully with time, I’d get over him.

But it didn’t work. I avoided going home at night and instead house-hopped from my mother’s to my sisters’ to Alyssa’s, hoping that Jason would finally quit calling me and realize it was over between us. I was a total coward and a wreck.

A week later, I was home with the flu, which I mostly attributed to being so stressed out about Jason. Officer Bill Rogers pulled up in my driveway, and I stared out the window with blurry eyes, my stomach rolling with upset and my head pounding with the high fever I was running. But seeing the squad car in the drive made me worry if Jason wasn’t all right. The thought ran through my mind that he hadn’t totally recovered and he’d been re-injured on the job.

I opened my door and figured I looked a sight—no makeup, my hair a tangled mess, and my cheeks as red as hot chili peppers. Even walking to the door had been a monumental task as I tried to get my breath. I had on a fluffy robe and slippers and must have looked like death-warmed-over in a pink bunny suit, perfect for Easter.

I kept my mouth shut, not wanting to say anything stupid before I heard the officer out, trying not to get emotional while my imagination was getting the best of me.

“Jason wanted us to drop by and check on you. He said you weren’t answering his calls, and he was worried you might not be okay.”

“He doesn’t have to worry about me,” I said, hating that my eyes were filling with tears. I hoped his friend would get what I was trying to say in an offhand kind of way—that Jason wasn’t part of my life anymore. But knowing guys, he wouldn’t get it any more than Jason did. I was going to have to tell him flat out.

Officer Rogers looked uncomfortable. His eyes remained fixed on me as if he was trying to see into my soul. I know the officers are trained to help people in trouble. They try to talk people out of committing suicide, or talk people into giving up hostages or giving themselves up. I knew Jason’s best friend was pondering what to say so that he didn’t send me over the edge.

But he seemed at a total loss. Maybe because I was such a sight. I doubted he would have thought I’d be on death’s door, and so maybe that made him hesitate a bit.

“I was going to see if you wanted a lift to the hospital, but. . .well, you shouldn’t be going to the hospital with being sick yourself,” he finally said.

My heart went into overdrive. “What’s happened?” I wanted to rush to the hospital to see Jason, take him in my arms, tell him how much I loved him. . .but then I squashed that notion. His mother would take care of him.

“His mother’s had a heart attack. She’s in the hospital in the ICU.”

I didn’t remember anything after that, not until I woke up in a hospital bed myself. The nurse told me police officers had brought me in after I collapsed from dehydration and a bout of pneumonia.

But all I cared about was how Jason and his mother, despite how much I didn’t care for her, were doing.

“Mrs. Simmons is going to be transferred to a rehabilitation center where she’ll be cared for until she’s able to return home,” the nurse advised me. “We need to get a release signed by you stating you have someone to take care of you when the doctor releases you.”

“My mother. . .”

“She was here earlier. Your sisters also.”

And Jason? No doubt busy with his mother, as he should be. After all, she was in ICU. I was just a little sick. Yet we both had broken hearts.

“Can I see her now?” Jason asked. He was outside of my door.

My heart jumped.

“Sure, Mr. Simmons. Go right in.”

I wanted to bury myself under the blankets to hide the way I looked.

Jason didn’t smile, but looked concerned instead. He shook his head and sat down next to the bed. Taking my hand in his, he said, “I remembered what I wanted to talk to you about that day we missed lunch.”

Oh my gosh—he was going to ask me to marry him when I looked like this?

“I kept trying to remember, then when I finally returned home and saw the strange new car in my garage, I recalled. You know that old pumpkin orange Plymouth Valiant you hated so much?”

That he had a devil of a time starting on cold mornings and that overheated on hot days? Yeah, I remembered all right. I nodded, wondering what that clunk of a car had to do with him asking me to marry him.

He smiled and kissed my cheek. “I traded it in for a new car. You always said I needed to get rid of the old clunker.”

“Oh,” I said, so disappointed I could cry. That was his news? That was what I had to be sitting down for? Sure, it was a big deal for him—he’d had the car since he was a teen. But it barely meant anything to me—not like what I’d hoped he was going to discuss with me. “How’s your mother?” I managed to choke out.

“She’s going to be fine with rehabilitation.” He patted my hand. “How are you feeling, honey?”

Fine, or I will be as soon as I get over you and begin my life all over again.

My mother arrived and gave Jason a look just about as mean-hearted as his mother had given me. I didn’t care. Jason would never ask me to marry him anyway. Go siccum, Mom.

A week after I was released from the hospital, I was trying to get caught up on housework when Jason called. He was coming over with something important he had to say. April Fools’ Day had long since come and gone, but I wasn’t about to be fooled on this day or any other. As far as Jason was concerned, it would be life as usual, though he’d been pretty quiet all week and I thought maybe my father had told him to get lost and quit bothering me. I could never tell what my father would do in a case like this. He wasn’t what you’d call a vocal man, but when he’d had enough of something, he’d make his mind known in no uncertain terms.

When Jason showed up, I hadn’t bothered fixing him anything special to eat; in fact, I didn’t even offer to feed him. I figured it was time to end this now.

He acted a little nervous and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know when I did it, but the guys at work said I asked you to marry me.”

I wanted to slug him. He was upset because he thought he’d asked me to marry him and now he wanted to back out?

“No, don’t worry about it. You didn’t ask me to marry you. I guess your friends thought we were engaged because we’d been seeing each other for so long, and then you were injured and I wanted to see you at the hospital. So they gave me the perfect excuse.”

“Oh. Well, I meant to, not that day but the next, then I realized it was April first. I couldn’t ask you to marry me on April Fools’ Day. I mean. . .after I told you about the car, I wanted to say I’d changed my mind about a lot of things, and I needed to change a lot of things in my life. But then your mother arrived at the hospital and. . .” He shrugged. “Are you sure I didn’t ask you to marry me already?”

I sat down hard on the couch and didn’t hear anything of what he said after that except something about a ring. “Ring?” I asked.

“Yeah, honey. I bought the ring and, well, I can’t find it. I thought for sure that I’d already given it to you, but you weren’t wearing it at the hospital. Then I figured you wouldn’t be wearing it in the hospital anyway. But I see you’re still not wearing it.”

I twisted the gold ring my aunt had given me for my eighteenth birthday on my right hand and shook my head.

Jason ran his hands over his hair, paced, then said, “I’ll be right back.”

I was too stunned to chase after him to clarify that he was really asking me to marry him. But an hour later, he returned, ring box in hand, a sheepish grin on his face.

“Will you marry me?” he asked at the door.

“Yes!” After five long years, I didn’t hesitate to accept his proposal of marriage.

Now I could tell everyone the whole wide world over that Jason and I were engaged. Jason’s mother drew her own battle line and wouldn’t speak to him at all. My family took Jason in right away, acting as though he’d never had cold feet in the first place.

Fifteen years, two kids, and four cats later, Jason’s still chasing the bad guys, and I’m a stay-at-home mom. He’s never regretted asking me to marry him, though his cop friends still tease him about his convenient memory loss and misplacing the engagement ring that day so long ago. And I’ll never forget the April Fools’ Day that was.