You Can't Hurry Love (6 page)

“I'm glad you're happy, Jamie—although I guess I should be calling you Jet.”

“Jamie is fine. It reminds me of old times.”

As the music ended, Elisabeth stepped away from him. “I need to go check on Tori. Make sure she's getting something to eat and not just talking to guests and dancing all night.”

Jamie allowed her to walk away. He was happy. He wasn't looking back. Wasn't doubting where God had led him so far. He'd stopped doing that years ago. But as Elisabeth stopped to hug Tori as she walked onto the dance floor with Pete, he couldn't help but wonder if God wasn't providing him—them—a second chance.

No, not a second chance. An unexpected opportunity for something altogether new between them.

SIX

T
he lobby of the Brown Palace Hotel hummed with nonstop motion as guests checked out. Bellmen transported luggage to waiting cars while front-desk clerks processed bills with muted voices and ready smiles.

Elisabeth Straker was part of the crowd of people checking out of the hotel. And if Jamie didn't say anything, then life returned to what it had been before the wedding, with Elisabeth going back to her routine and he going back to work at Wright-Pat in Ohio. And then deploying early in the New Year. They went their separate ways. And wasn't that for the best?

He didn't even need to say good-bye. They'd done a brief “Take care of yourself” exchange last night as the reception ended, standing on the street outside the hotel, holding the extinguished sparklers they'd waved as Tori and Peter ran to their car.

“And that is that.” Elisabeth positioned herself by the door leading back into the hotel, picking up a large white bucket.

“What are you doing?”

“Collecting the sparklers. Last official maid-of-honor duty.”

“Need some help?”

“No. I'm good. At least half the guests left already, so there aren't that many to collect.”

“It was great seeing you, Elisabeth.”

“You, too, Jamie.” Her lips curved in a small grin, even as she shivered in the cool night air. “I realize I'm probably the only one who still calls you Jamie.”

“You—and my grandmother.”

“Oh.”

“You're in good company. I'm her favorite grandson.”

“I bet you are.” A trio of people dropped their sparklers into the bucket.

“Well, I'm going to call it a night.”

“I'm not far behind you. Take care, Jamie.”

He could turn away now, get on the elevator, and go back up to his room to finish packing. But some unexplainable urge that would not be ignored made him step forward as Elisabeth finished talking with the front-desk clerk.

“So, you're all ready to go?”

“What?” Elisabeth stumbled to a stop, pulling her suitcase up along beside her.

Jamie nodded toward the front desk. “Checked out?”

“Yes. I just need the valet to get my car—”

“Do you have time for a cup of coffee?”

“Now?”

“I have a late flight out. I thought maybe we could sit . . . talk . . . you know . . .”

Elisabeth seemed to waver between a yes and a no, but then she nodded. “Sure. I'm the one with the drive back home to the Springs.”

Elisabeth arranged to leave her suitcase at the front desk, and within minutes they were seated in the Coffee and Tea Co. located near the entrance of the hotel. Elisabeth opted for hot tea, while he stuck with coffee, strong and black.

“Tori and Pete are on their way to Hawaii, I guess.” He wrapped his hands around the mug.

“It certainly helps to have a relative who owns a condo there, doesn't it?”

“I'm happy for them.”

“Me, too.”

Silence settled between them. Just as he began to wonder how to fill the void . . . why he hadn't just gone to his room . . . Elisabeth set her mug on the table.

“Jamie, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Okay.”

“The other day, you told me that you were sorry about how you responded to my Dear John letter. That you wish you hadn't sent it. That you hadn't let your classmates write all those comments.”

“I have to admit, it felt good to finally get that off my chest.”

“Well . . . I wanted to explain why I sent the letter.”

“Elisabeth, you don't have to—”

“But I need to. For me. For both of us. You had your chance to explain yourself. I'd like my chance, too. Maybe then we can go our separate ways again today and remember each other fondly.”

Remember each other fondly? Is that what he wanted? To let Elisabeth walk out of his life again?

No.

A part of him wanted to ask her if there was any possibility that they could . . . not pick up where they left off. That was the stuff of romance movies. But maybe they could start over. Talk. E-mail. Discover who they were now . . . and see where the relationship went.

And maybe the first step was letting Elisabeth talk.

He leaned forward. “Go ahead. I'm listening.”

“I don't know if you remember what I said in the letter—”

“Not word for word—and certainly not all these years later. I do remember you were pretty vague. You said something like ‘we aren't going to work out' and ‘we're too young to be so serious about each other.' And you said you were sorry. I remember that.”

Elisabeth twisted her hands together. “I wrote the letter for two reasons. First, because someone had asked me if I really thought I had what it took to be a military wife.”

“What? Who asked you that?”

She looked away, taking a sip of her tea, her braid falling forward over her shoulder. “It doesn't matter. I hadn't dated anyone but you in high school. And I knew there were plenty of girls who would love to take my place as your girlfriend.”

“I didn't care about that.”

“I know, but it did get kind of old, being reminded all the time . . .” She shook her head, as if trying to silence voices from the past. “Then this . . . person asked me if I was ready to be alone a lot. If I was ready to be a widow if you were killed in combat . . .”

“Wow.”

“Thinking about all of that scared me. I didn't think I could do it.”

“Why didn't you talk to me?”

“I didn't know how.” Her gaze met his for a moment, a shadow darkening them. “And then there was something else I'd have to tell you . . .”

“What else, Elisabeth?”

“There was this guy in my classes. We kept running into each other. He was funny and smart . . . and he asked me out a couple of times. I told him I had a boyfriend.”

“But that didn't matter, did it?”

“He said he understood. That he'd respect my relationship with you. That we'd be just friends, but . . . something happened and one night he kissed me. I didn't stop him, Jamie. I should have, but I didn't.”

Something hot seemed to seep into his veins, catching him off-guard and heating his words. “So you were dating this guy while I was at the Academy?”

“No!” Elisabeth reached across the table and then pulled her hand back. “No. It was just that one kiss . . . but that was bad enough. I couldn't tell you what I'd done . . . even if it happened because I was lonely and I just transferred my feelings for you onto him. And I couldn't tell you that I wasn't sure I could be the kind of wife you needed . . . I was just so confused.”

“So you wrote me a letter.”

“It seemed like the best thing to do.”

“You mean it was the easiest thing for you to do.”

• • •

Jamie's words were ground out, guttural, his jaw tight. He was looking right at her, but it was almost as if he didn't recognize her.

This was exactly what she'd been so afraid of all those years ago. His anger . . . that was a shield for his hurt.

Elisabeth wasn't going to argue with Jamie. She'd taken this opportunity to explain her actions seven years ago—not to defend them.

“I'm not saying it was the right thing to do. I know it wasn't. I was young. Immature. I'm talking to you now because I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry.”

Jamie took a gulp of his coffee, staring past her.

“Did you hear what I said? I'm sorry.”

“Of all the things I imagined back then, I never thought there was another guy.”

“There wasn't another guy—”

“You let another guy kiss you, Elisabeth. You must have given him some sort of hint that you were okay with that. My roommate and some of the other guys in the squadron told me that was what was going on—that you were dating another guy.” Jamie shoved his chair back from the table, jostling the empty chair behind him. “And I defended you. I said no way. That I knew you and they didn't. And that even if I didn't know why you wrote the letter I knew you wouldn't cheat on me.”

The air seemed to be disintegrating between them. She grasped for words to rebuild the comfortableness they'd rediscovered over the weekend, but Jamie's hard stare silenced her.

This verbal act of contrition had been a mistake.

“You want to know what's funny? I thought maybe you and I could reconnect after all these years. That maybe God was in this random meeting. Could he be giving us the opportunity of a second chance?” His brief laugh lashed out across the table. “I guess he was just letting me know that the end of our relationship—no matter how painful—was the right thing.”

“Jamie, I'm not that girl anymore—”

“Really? I'm supposed to believe that?” He stood, tossing a couple of crumpled dollar bills on the table. “I've got to pack. Have a safe drive back home.”

Elisabeth stood, too. “Can't we talk about this?”

“There's nothing to say, is there? You wanted to tell me your reasons for the letter. Now I know.”

And with that, he left her standing alone in the coffee shop.

What a way to end the wedding weekend. No one ever told her there was a statute of limitations on the “honesty is the best policy” creed.

Elisabeth was halfway home before she voice-dialed Bellamy, not sure whether she wanted her to answer or to be left alone. When Bellamy greeted her after the very first ring, the decision was made for her.

“Lis! Are you off maid-of-honor duty?”

“Yes. I'm through Denver and just over Monument Hill.”

“Great. And did you survive the weekend with Jamie Travers?”

“No.”

“I knew you— Wait, what do you mean ‘no'?”

“It couldn't have ended any worse than it did.”

“What did you do, kiss him or something?”

“Oh, right.” With one hand, she tugged the elastic band off the end of her braid. “I don't see the guy for seven years, and I end up kissing him? I don't think so.”

“It was a joke.”

“A bad one.”

“I'm being serious now. What happened?”

“We had the chance to talk during the weekend. And Jamie apologized for sending the letter he did in response to the letter I sent to him at the Academy.”

“Okay, so far I'm following and it doesn't sound bad.”

“We even danced together at the reception . . . it was nice.”

“Nice-nice or romantic nice?”

“Just nice.” Elisabeth threaded her fingers through her hair, trying to release the tension building in her head. “And then today as I was getting ready to leave he invites me to have coffee with him. And I thought maybe you were right. Maybe this was an opportunity to clear the air about what happened all those years ago. Tell him the complete truth about why I sent the letter.”

“And I take it the truth wasn't well received?”

“He seemed to understand my doubts about being a military wife—”

“Okay.”

“But he also said he never expected me to fool around on him.”

“What? Did you tell him it was one kiss?”

“Of course I told him it was one kiss. By the way he reacted, you would think I slept with the guy.”

“Well, at least Jamie knows the truth. You can be content with that.”

“I guess you're right.” But the turmoil inside her was a long way from contentment. She wanted to turn the car around, drive back to Denver, and demand that Jamie Travers listen. That he understand.

“You're only responsible for your actions, Lis, not for other people's reactions.”

“Right.”

“And it's not like you were going to strike up a relationship with Jamie Travers again, so there's no real loss.”

“Right again.”

“You're saying ‘right,' but I don't think you're agreeing with me.”

“I can't explain it. This all feels so wrong.” She swallowed against the tightness in her throat. Why would she be crying about Jamie Travers all these years later? “It's not like I wanted a second chance with the guy.”

“No. But you were hoping for a better resolution with him when you talked about what happened—”

“And I can't control someone else's response, right? I know that's the truth, but it's not helping right now.” She pressed the heel of her hand against the ache in the center of her chest. “I don't know exactly what I was hoping for . . . but it wasn't this.”

“Do you want to pray?”

“No.” Her reply was a broken whisper. She cleared her throat. Tried again. “No. I'm sorry, Belle, but I can't pray right now. Maybe later, okay?”

“I understand. I'll start praying now. Remember, God promises that he's near us no matter what.”