You Can't Hurry Love (8 page)

He'd written her back.
He'd written her back.

Holding her breath, she scanned the few sentences, and then read them again before leaning back against the couch, her eyes closed. His message was about as impersonal as you could get—but he'd responded. That had to mean something.

It probably meant the man was desperate for mail. The reality was, Chloe had weeks on her . . .

Stop.

She needed to stop right there. Elisabeth gripped the sides of her Mac, willing her heartbeat to slow down and her expectations not to spiral out of control into some “maybe this could go somewhere” daydream. She was not competing with Chloe or anyone else for Jamie Travers. She'd written him in hopes of—what had she told Peter?—smoothing things over with Jamie. To see if they could somehow be friends.

What had he said in his e-mail? She read it a third time. He'd asked about home. Said hearing about normal was nice. Wondered about Bellamy.

Okay. She'd keep it casual. Fun. Try to brighten his day. And before she sent her reply, she'd pray for him, just like she'd told him she would.

EIGHT

Memorial Day Weekend

H
is plans to surprise Elisabeth by showing up on her doorstep for the long holiday weekend were a complete bust.

His plane had been diverted to Ramstein Air Base in Germany—and there it sat on the tarmac, thanks to mechanical trouble. All the other flights back to the States were overbooked, so any hope of flying standby was hopeless, unless he wanted to shell out big bucks for a commercial flight.

What had he been thinking? All of Elisabeth's e-mails the past few months had been frequent and friendly. Nothing more. How could she know he looked forward to them as much as he used to anticipate her letters at the Academy? No, that he anticipated them even more. Her lighthearted e-mails didn't indicate her heart was engaged—that she considered him as anything more than a friend who needed encouragement while he was overseas. What made him think she'd welcome a quick weekend visit from him—especially one where he showed up on her doorstep and announced, “Surprise! I'm here!”

And Elisabeth didn't even know how his deployment had changed yet.

Jamie paced the terminal. He was stranded in Germany, going nowhere. A phone call was going to have to do. He found a quiet corner in the airport and pulled up Elisabeth's number, praying she'd answer.

“Hello, this is Elisabeth.”

For a moment, he savored the sound of her voice. “Hello to you, too.”

“Who is this . . . Jamie?” Her voice pitched higher when she said his name.

He couldn't help but laugh. “Yep. It's me.”

“What . . . how . . . why are you calling me?”

“I hope it's okay. And I'm glad you picked up. I was afraid I'd have to settle for voice mail. I decided to switch it up and try a phone call instead of an e-mail.” He took a deep breath, realizing his words were tumbling one over another. “Do you have a few minutes to talk?”

“Are you kidding me? I'm all yours!” She gave a breathy laugh. “I mean . . . I can talk for as long as you can.”

“I'm not going anywhere.” He leaned against the wall, staring at the darkness shrouding the planes outside. She had no idea how true those words were. “So, what are you doing?”

“Me? I'm boiling potatoes for potato salad.”

“Sounds delicious. Got plans for the weekend?”

“Nothing much. Just getting together with some of the other teachers for a picnic.”

“An old-fashioned Memorial Day barbecue?”

“Yes—and I'm just glad I'm feeling good enough to go . . .” Her voice trailed off.

“What do you mean? Were you sick? You didn't mention that in any of your e-mails.”

“It wasn't worth mentioning. I just got run-down at the end of the school year. You don't want to hear about me coughing or having a fever.”

“Elisabeth, I want to hear about what's going on with you—whatever that is.” He slid down to the floor, back against the wall.

“It's not worth talking about, especially when I didn't expect a phone call from you today. I'm all better. Please don't waste this phone call lecturing me. Surely we have other things to talk about.”

“I do need to tell you something.”

“Is everything okay?” Her tone turned serious.

“I'm fine.” No need to tell her about his futile attempt to make it to Colorado. “But my plans have changed.”

“Plans? What plans?”

“I was supposed to be coming back stateside in early June, but that's not going to happen.”

“Why not?”

Was that disappointment he heard in her voice? “The husband of the officer who was replacing me was diagnosed with some sort of serious medical issue. So I volunteered to extend my tour.”

“For how long?”

“Another four months.”

“Another . . . four months? Are you . . . are you allowed any sort of break between the two deployments?”

“I'd hoped to manage something—” Jamie fought to keep his voice even. “—but it didn't work out.”

“I'm not surprised that you stepped up to help that other person.”

Her praise ignited a warmth in the center of his chest that pushed back the chill of the airport terminal. “Anyone else would have done it.”

“I don't think so. But I know you would. It's who you are.”

Her words were almost as good as a hug from her. Almost.

She interrupted his daydream. “So, I guess I'm signing up for four more months of e-mails, if you're not bored already.”

“I'm not bored at all. Your e-mails are keeping me going.”

“I'm so glad to hear it. I . . . like hearing from you, too. So, what's summer going to be like, wherever you are?”

“Nothing special.”

“I sent you a package. Have you gotten it yet?”

“No. But military mail isn't known for speed.”

“I hope it's not lost.”

“I'm sure it'll get here just fine. And I've got something else to look forward to.”

“And now that I know you're going to be there longer, I'll send you another package.”

“You don't have to do that.”

“It's fun. Gives me a chance to wander the candy aisle. You still like Twizzlers?”

“Of course.”

They talked for another ten minutes, their banter easing some of the tightness from between his shoulder blades. His surroundings faded away and all he heard was Elisabeth's voice. Her laughter. He closed his eyes, recalling how she looked the night of Pete and Tori's wedding, feminine and elegant in the silver dress with a little bit of sass, thanks to the red high heels, her brown hair in long, loose curls. She'd smiled through every swing dance and fit into his arms so perfectly when the music slowed . . .

“So what are you doing now?”

“Me? Nothing special. Things are kind of quiet.” He moved away from the wall, rising to his feet. “I should let you get back to your picnic preparations.”

“I guess. I'm so glad you called, Jamie. This was such a great surprise.”

“I enjoyed talking.”

“Me, too. Take care of yourself.”

“You take care, too, Elisabeth. Love you—” What had he just said? “—I mean, looking forward to your next e-mail.”

“I'll send one tonight before I go to bed.”

“Perfect.”

Just perfect.

Because now he was stranded in an airport, thousands of miles from the woman he wanted to be with, trying not to imagine her snuggling down in her bed and wishing he was able to curl up beside her. To wrap his arms around her and kiss her like he imagined doing in his dreams.

And hoping she hadn't heard him say “Love you.”

Those two words could change everything between the two of them.

NINE

June

San Diego, CA

Y
ou're still e-mailing Jamie Travers?” With the DVD ready to go, Bellamy settled on the couch beside her, positioning the bowl of fresh popcorn between them, their grape sodas sitting on the coffee table in front of them.

“Yes. He's there for another four months, so I told him I'd keep writing.” Elisabeth scooped up a handful of popcorn. “Did I mention he sent me something?”

“He sent you something?”

“I got a package the other day postmarked from Ramstein Air Base. I'm not sure why, but I don't know how the military postal system works.”

“What did he send you?”

“It was this lovely Waterford glass rose. I've never seen anything like it.”

“All right. What is going on with you two?”

“Nothing is
going on
. I'm e-mailing him while he's deployed.” Elisabeth munched on some buttery popcorn before continuing. “I'm praying for him. That's it.”

Bellamy tilted her head to one side. “Lis, the man sent you a crystal rose. Doesn't that tell you something?”

“That he appreciates my friendship?”

“Fine, play dumb. How often do you e-mail him?”

“Three, four times a week . . . I don't know. Am I supposed to be keeping track?”

“And what do you talk about?”

“Well, before summer vacation, I told him about my students . . . anything funny that I think will make him laugh . . . I'll tell him about my visit with you—” Elisabeth twisted so she and Bellamy sat face-to-face. “Why all the questions about my pen pal?”

“So now Jamie Travers is your pen pal?” Bellamy's voice held a hint of laughter.

“Sure. We're writing to each other, right?”

“And when did your heart become involved?”

“Who said my heart is involved?”

“Is it?”

“Why are you asking me if my heart is involved? What kind of question is that?”

“Why aren't you answering my question?”

“Because . . . because it's a ridiculous question.”

“Is it?”

“Bellamy, why do you keep asking me ‘Is it? Is it?' ”

“And why won't you face the truth?”

Elisabeth buried her face in her hands, shoulders hunched forward, refusing to answer for a few moments. She hadn't said any of this out loud. Wasn't sure she could. When Bellamy touched her shoulder and then began rubbing her back, a sigh shuddered through her.

“Oh, Belle, I've told myself repeatedly that we were just friends. That I was writing him to encourage him while he was deployed.” She held her hands out, palms up, shaking her head. “And at first, that's all it was. I told him about what I was doing, trying to make it interesting and fun because that's what Jamie said he needed while he was over there. And the crazy thing is, I don't even know where ‘there' is.”

“And now?”

“And now . . . now I can't wait to get home and see if there's an e-mail from him. And when there is, I want to do a little happy dance around my apartment. And when there isn't . . . well, the truth is, there usually is an e-mail these days. And then he called me over Memorial Day weekend . . . and something changed. We talked for maybe fifteen or twenty minutes, and honestly, I could have listened to him talk for hours. I didn't even care what he was saying—I just loved hearing his voice. I hung up and replayed our conversation over and over again in my head.”

“Are you in love with him again?”

“I can't be.” How many times had she told herself that? “He wants a friend. And that's what I'm going to be for him. I don't even know if he's still e-mailing Chloe . . . I mean, if he's the Jamie Travers I knew back in high school, there are plenty of women who'd be happy to e-mail him.”

“Oh, come on, Lis. Yes, Jamie's always been outgoing. And handsome. And girls like that. But he was just friendly with other girls—not some sort of high school Casanova. Do you really think he's got dozens of female pen pals?”

“I don't know.” Elisabeth pressed her palm against her forehead. “I'm all mixed up. I think about Jamie all the time. I miss him . . . and what am I doing missing a man I've seen once in eight years?”

“What does Jamie talk about when he writes you?”

“I'll tell you what he doesn't talk about—where he is and what he's doing. He tells me what books he's reading. What movies he's watched. Talks about some of his friends . . . about the weekly Bible study he goes to.” She paused. Did she really want to share this with Bellamy? “There was something—”

What?”

“When we talked at the end of May, when we were saying good-bye, it almost sounded like he said, ‘Take care—love you.'”

Bellamy sat up so fast that some of the popcorn spilled over the edge of the bowl. “Lis!”

“But I must have misheard him. And we said good-bye right after that.”

“What if he did say ‘love you'? How would you feel about that?”

“Thrilled. Confused. I don't know . . .”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Me? Nothing.” Elisabeth leaned back against the couch. “He's deployed for another four months. I'll keep e-mailing him. Being a good friend. That's what he needs from me right now. I started this because I wanted to smooth things out between Jamie and me. Well, I did that. I shouldn't be complaining, right?”

“I don't hear you complaining. I hear you trying to figure out what you're feeling . . . maybe even dreaming about what you want from Jamie.”

“I got what I wanted, Belle.” Elisabeth straightened her shoulders. “I'm happy. I'm not going to ask for more and possibly ruin what we have.”

“What if Jamie wants something more than friendship?”

“Can we please talk about something else?”

“Lis—”

“Please?”

“All right.” Bellamy seemed to accept she needed to stop cross-examining her. “I did want to tell you something exciting.”

“Are you and Reid planning another vacation?”

“No, although this little announcement does involve Reid.”

“Little announcement?”

“You want to guess?”

“No, I don't want to guess . . .” Elisabeth scanned her friend's face. “Wait a minute! Are you
pregnant
?”

“I thought you didn't want to guess.”

“Bellamy, am I right?”

“Yes.” Bellamy gave a tiny shriek. “I'm pregnant.”

Elisabeth wrapped her friend in a hug, threatening to tip over the bowl of popcorn. “Oh my gosh! You're pregnant! Why didn't you tell me?”

“We just confirmed it last week before you came. I was waiting for the right time.”

“Why didn't you tell me when I walked through the door?”

“Oh, sure. ‘So glad you're here, and by the way, I'm pregnant.' ”

Elisabeth hugged Bellamy again and then pulled away from her. “Have you been overdoing it?”

“No, I feel fine. A little tired. Queasy sometimes . . . but, really, I'm fine.”

“Well, I know what we're doing tonight. Nothing. And we'll lie low tomorrow, too.”

“But it's your last day here—”

“And we've had lots of fun. I'll pack. Check in for my flight tomorrow night. We'll talk. And then I'll head back to Colorado and you can relax.”

“I do have a job, you know.”

“Yes, but designing brooch bouquets means you can say yes to clients when you want to and say no when you need to, right?”

“It's one of the things I like about being my own boss.”

“Why don't you show me what you're working on now?”

“Are you sure you don't want to e-mail a certain air force officer?”

“I'm certain. I doubt that he's over there waiting on my e-mails.”

• • •

Had Elisabeth even heard what he'd said?

Almost a month later, and Jamie still cringed at the memory of how he'd said “love you” at the end of their one and only phone call.

Those few moments had been the best of the last five months. Hearing Elisabeth's voice. Her laugh. How she said “I'm so glad you called” as the time wound down.

And then . . . he'd slipped up. All he'd meant to say was “take care.” But “love you” had snuck past his mental defenses. He'd tried to cover it up and Elisabeth had gone on to say she'd e-mail him, as if she hadn't heard him.

Their e-mails remained the same. Friendly. Fun. And even more frequent.

And with thousands of miles separating them, he had to face the reality that he'd fallen back in love with his high school sweetheart.

They could either keep going on as they were—as friends exchanging e-mails—or he could tell her straight up that he loved her and see whether somehow she might feel the same way about him.

If she didn't . . . well, that would put an end to months of “conversation” that had pushed back loneliness and filled his days and nights with anticipation and humor and friendship. But if she did love him, then their future would be more than anything he'd hoped for.

Dear Elisabeth,

I hope you're doing well today. I've had a busy week. A long week. I can't tell you anything more than that, but this deployment has been an exasperating blend of mind-numbing boredom—thank you for the paperback, by the way—and intense moments where I've had to be alert and on guard.

I didn't know what to think when your first e-mail showed up in my inbox back in February. My plan was to ignore it. And then came the second one. And here we are, all these months later, and I can't tell you how much your e-mails mean to me.

How much you mean to me.

If I were stateside, we'd still be long distance—you in Colorado and me in Ohio. But at least we could talk on the phone. FaceTime. Skype. I'd manage to visit on the weekends some. But here we are limited to e-mails.

But deployed or stateside, I'd still have to be honest with you at some point. And I decided today's the day for that.

I love you, Elisabeth.

I keep thinking of all these things I want to write to you. How I love you better now. I'm not the same person I was in the Academy. Eight years and perspective—and God's grace—change a man.

I know time zones and thousands of miles separate us, but it doesn't change the truth that I love you. And don't say that's impossible because I don't know you. I do. Our letters have let me get to know you all over again.

The question is could you possibly love me, too? Is there a chance for us?

Jamie stared at the computer screen for long moments. He'd done it. Written what he'd wanted to say. Now the question was, could he send it to Elisabeth? His confession would alter everything between them. They'd become friends, but he had no guarantee they could be more.

There was no use letting the question linger in his inbox, unasked.

With a silent prayer, he pushed Send, closed his laptop, and walked away.

• • •

Jamie Travers loved her.

He loved her.

Elisabeth had read and reread his e-mail a half dozen times since it had arrived earlier that evening. Her fingertips touched the laptop screen, a light caress, as if he'd written her on some fragile parchment paper, not sent his message via the Internet.

This was the most unconventional romance she'd ever experienced—a declaration of love over the Internet from a man she'd seen six months ago and had talked to only once in all that time.

Not that she was one of those women who'd fallen in love over and over again. She had more experience helping her friends complete their walks down the aisle to their happily-ever-afters.

As she stared at her computer screen, the question from years ago whispered in her mind:
Do you have what it takes to be married to a military guy?

The unspoken demand from an invisible interrogator assaulted Elisabeth, chilling her. Did she? It was one thing to support Jamie for one deployment—even an unexpectedly extended one. But what if he was deployed a second or a third time? Could she be the kind of wife he needed? And if she wasn't ready to be there for Jamie no matter what—for everything that his military career demanded of him—why had she continued writing him, imagining a future with him?

Elisabeth gripped the lid of her laptop. Reread Jamie's words one more time, the same question thundering in her head. Shutting her computer, she set it on the couch, closed her eyes, and struggled to put her thoughts into a prayer.

• • •

Even during spin class the next morning, Elisabeth had been unable to escape her mixed-up thoughts.

She'd given the tension knob on her bike an extra crank. Stood up for every imaginary hill. Pedaled faster, closing her eyes and moving with the beat of the music.

But she couldn't outrun Jamie's declaration of love . . . or her doubts.