Page 40 of The Devil You Know
I reach for the bag, considering the purchase. It will make Leah happy, that’s for sure. And Ben.
But no. The last thing we need in our house is a ginormous bag of peanut butter cups.
“It’s too much candy, Leah,” I tell her.
Leah considers my words, deciding if it’s worth a temper tantrum. Finally, she points to a box on a lower shelf, “This, Mommy?”
It’s cracker jacks. Sweet, crunchy, salty cracker jacks. I haven’t had cracker jacks in areallylong time.
Actually, I can tell you the exact last time I ate cracker jacks. It was when Ben and I had been dating for a little over a year.
We were in a 7-11 late at night and he noticed the cracker jacks on the shelf. “Cracker jacks!” he exclaimed. “I haven’t eaten these since I was, like, ten years old.”
“Probably because they’re disgusting,” I said.
“No way!” Ben pulled the box from the shelf and stared at it eagerly. “They’re delicious. And there’s a prize inside. Aprize.” He shook the box in front of me. “We’re buying this, Jane.”
“Aren’t you a ‘foodie’?” I teased him.
“Yes. And that’s how I know these are awesome.”
So that’s how we ended up buying a box of Cracker Jacks. And actually, Ben was right—theyweregood. I couldn’t see myself eating a whole tub of them, but the caramel and peanut had that great salty and sweet combination that I love. And about halfway through the box, Ben fished out the prize: a cheap-looking gold ring with a salt-dusted purple gemstone.
“Wow, a ring,” I commented. “Ben, you getting any ideas?”
I was joking. I wasobviouslyjoking. But Ben looked at that ring with the oddest expression on his face, and I started to get worried, like I’d said the wrong thing. Just when I was about to apologize and assure him that I had zero interest in marriage, he did something that completely shocked me: he got down on one knee, right on the dirty sidewalk, and took my hand in his. With the other, he held out the Cracker Jack ring.
“Jane McGill,” he says as he gazed into my eyes. “Will you marry me?”
“What?” I hadn’t expected that to be my response to my first proposal, but the whole thing was so ridiculous. What else could I say? “Are you serious?”
“Yes, I am.” His cheeks colored slightly. “I’m sorry. I know this ring isn’t… I mean, I’ll go out and get you a real ring tomorrow. I just… I want to marry you. I really, really do. And I know this proposal isn’t… look, I’m kind of starting to regret doing it this way, but I just thought… I mean, I saw that ring and…”
“Get up off the sidewalk,” I said, because it was really truly filthy down there. He probably had his knee in urine.
“I’m sorry,” Ben mumbled as he scrambled to his feet. “That was stupid.”
I smiled at the embarrassed expression on his face. “No, it wasn’t.” I leaned forward and kissed him gently on the lips. “I will marry you, Ben Ross.”
A smile of his own spread across Ben’s lips. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I poked him in the arm. “But you better get me a nicer ring than that.”
I allowed Ben to put the Cracker Jack ring on my finger. It was too small to fit on my ring finger, so I wore it on my pinky. We kissed for a long time after that, then walked home together hand in hand, excitedly discussing plans to move in together.
I still have that Cracker Jack ring. It’s in the jewelry box on my nightstand. I actually treasure it more than the expensive diamond ring that Ben bought me a few dayslater. I still consider it my real engagement ring. I just wish I had decided that before I let Ben blow a thousand bucks on a diamond ring that I never wear.
“I want it, Mommy!” Leah is saying.
“Okay,” I mumble, and absently drop the Cracker Jacks in the cart. There’s no way I can escape this aisle without buying her something. May as well be Cracker Jacks.
Leah is so thrilled, she decides now would be a good time to burst into song. Instead of her usual repertoire of children’s songs, she launches into a Meghan Trainor number. “You know I’m all about that Mommy, ‘bout that Mommy, no Mommy,” she sings. “I’ve got that Mommy that all the boys chase, and all the right junk in all the right Mommy.”
And of course, just as she’s singing those lyrics, that would be the moment I’d hear a voice from behind me: “Dr. McGill!”
I get a sick feeling in my stomach. One of the downsides to living relatively close to the VA Hospital is that I occasionally run into my patients. A lot of the times, I don’t even recognize them, and I have to desperately search my brain to come up with a name—usually, I can’t.
Except this time, coming up with a name isn’t a problem.
