Just Beyond the Clouds

by Karen Kingsbury

  The connection between them happened quickly and with an intensity that left her dizzy. Of course, they’d already spent nine months pretending they didn’t have feelings for each other. Now that they were able to express themselves, the romance between them took on a life of its own.

  All summer and into the next school year, they were inseparable. They hiked Pike’s Peak and three other trails into the mountains surrounding the Springs. They went snow skiing in Vale over a four-day weekend, and golfing at the Broadmoor.

  The subject of purity was one they both agreed on. God wouldn’t bless their relationship unless they put off temptation. On the trip to Vale, they stayed in separate rooms and never considered breaching the boundaries.

  “He’s a perfect gentleman,” Elle told her mother that Christmas. “I never dreamed I’d meet a man like him.”

  Her mother listened, but it took a moment before she said anything. “He sounds a little too good to be true.”

  “Not really.” Elle didn’t want anyone saying anything to mar the way she was feeling. “He’s a man of God, Mother. What more could I ask for?”

  One afternoon, her mother explained her concern. “How old is he?”

  “Thirty-one.” Elle grinned. “Eight years older than me, but that doesn’t bother us. He says I’m more mature than him most of the time.”

  Her mother nodded, thoughtful. “Thirty-one and never been in love. Sort of unusual, don’t you think?”

  “No.” Elle bristled. “He’s been getting his education and training. That’s not unusual, Mother. It’s dedication.”

  Her mother dropped the subject and pulled Elle into a tender hug. “I’m glad you’re happy, honey. You deserve this.”

  Elle’s happiness grew tenfold that New Year’s Eve when Trace took her to dinner at the Broadmoor, and after dinner—out on a patio overlooking the beautifully lit golf course, he lowered himself to one knee and pulled a velvet box from his pants pocket. His eyes were damp as he searched hers. “Marry me, Elle.”

  “Trace . . . yes.” She brought her fingers to her lips and then took the box. Inside was a diamond solitaire surrounded by a ring of smaller diamonds. She gasped, and before she could take a breath they were in each other’s arms, hugging and kissing and laughing.

  Their engagement was more of the same, one amazing day after another. The plans came together quickly, and the wedding was set for May. Elle and her mother went to Denver and found a stunning dress, tight along the bodice with a spray of glittery white that made up the skirt and train.

  Three hundred people were invited—the staffs at both elementary schools and family on both sides. Together they picked out the DJ and the ballroom—at the Broadmoor, of course. They laughed as they strolled through Nordstroms, registering for new dishes and crystal and fine china.

  Elle didn’t notice anything amiss until a month before the wedding. They had plans for dinner and a walk, time to talk about the wedding plans and go over the details of the reception. But Trace called half an hour before he was supposed to pick her up. “Um, Elle . . . I can’t make it tonight. Something’s come up.”

  She was puzzled by his behavior, but she figured it had something to do with the wedding. Maybe he was meeting with someone about the honeymoon. Or maybe he was cooking up some other surprise. She let the incident pass without commenting. But when it happened again later that week, she felt the first tremblings of fear.

  “Trace . . . is everything okay? With us, I mean.”

  “Of course.” His answer came fast, his tone a little too forced. “Don’t worry, Elle. This is about me.”

  She tried not to think too long about his answer, but his strange behavior continued into the next week and the week after that. Finally, one day after school she showed up at Pinewood and strode into the reception area. She nodded at the woman still seated at the front desk. Then she walked past and into Trace’s office.

  “Hey.” He was on the phone, but at the sight of her he slammed the receiver down and stood. “You can’t walk in here unannounced.”

  “I just did.” She couldn’t make out the emotions in his eyes, but they were nothing she’d ever seen before. “We need to talk, Trace.” She shut the door behind her. “I’m sorry I didn’t call first. But I couldn’t wait. What’s happening with you?”

  He lowered himself to his desk and shielded his eyes with his fingers. He exhaled, almost as if he was still recovering from the sight of her. When he lowered his hands, his expression had changed to one she was more familiar with. “Honey, I told you. This isn’t about you.”

  “Okay, so what’s it about?” Panic coursed through her. She wanted to scream at him. “We’re getting married in ten days, Trace. And you can’t keep a dinner date. Doesn’t that strike you as strange?”

  “I know.” He uttered a weak laugh. “I can imagine how it looks.” He reached across the desk.

  For a moment she didn’t respond. She was too angry. “I can’t live this way. With you keeping things from me. Secrets.” She looked around the room as if the answer might be tangible. “Whatever it is, I can’t take it.”

  “I’m sorry.” He stretched his hand out a little farther. His expression was still pinched, his voice nervous. “Elle, come on, honey. I love you. I told you this isn’t about you.”

  She didn’t want to, but she took his hand anyway. Whatever damage had been done, feeling his fingers against hers was necessary if they were going to find their way back to where they’d been before. She blinked back tears. “I’m about to commit my entire life to you, Trace. Whatever you’ve been dealing with, you need to talk to me about it.”

  “No, Elle.” Something cold flashed in his eyes, and just as quickly it was gone. “No, Elle. It was my problem, and I took care of it. Just some leftover business from my old life.” He smiled at her, the smile that had won her heart. “The lonely life I lived before I met you.”

  She wasn’t satisfied with his answer, but she didn’t know what to do to change his mind.

  Finally, he stood and came around to her side of the desk. “I’m sorry for reacting when you walked in.” He eased her to her feet and drew her into his arms. “I’ve been dealing with a lot, Elle. One of the new teachers isn’t adjusting very well, and I’ve been needed more because of that.” He touched his lips to hers. “Nothing’s changed. Trust me.”

  Despite Trace’s reassurance, Elle’s suspicions remained, but there was nothing that justified her breaking things off. She loved Trace, and if he was feeling stressed about the pending wedding, that only made him human, right? Over the next week, he slipped back into his usual self, making time for her and spending evenings at her apartment going over the details of the wedding.

  The Saturday of the ceremony dawned with thick clouds. Looking back, Elle should’ve seen it as an omen. Especially since the forecast had called for nothing but sunshine. Her mother and Daisy were in town, staying at her apartment, and her other two sisters were at a nearby hotel. The five of them gathered early that morning and fussed over each other’s hair and makeup. Finally, at ten-thirty, they were ready to go. The wedding was slated for eleven, and the drive to the church took just ten minutes.

  A friend at school knew someone who owned a limo service, and arrangements had been made to have one free of charge for Elle and Trace’s big day. The limo whisked them off to the church and they arrived fifteen minutes early. Lots of guests were already there, but the pastor found them in the bridal room. “Have you heard from the groom?”

  Fear colored black streaks across Elle’s perfect morning. “He’s coming by himself. The groomsmen are meeting him here.”

  “Very well.” The pastor looked at his watch. “Is he usually punctual?”

  Elle caught her mother’s nervous glance. She cleared her throat and adjusted her veil. What could she say? Trace was one of the most punctual people she knew. She smiled at the man. “Usually. But if we have to wait for him, we’ll wait.”

  “Absolutely.” He smil
ed. “See you in a few minutes.”

  Elle’s insides tied in knots. She couldn’t look at her mother, couldn’t imagine the unfathomable thoughts whispering in her mind. Instead she turned to Daisy. “Are you excited about today?”

  “I love to dance.” Daisy smiled. She came to Elle and looked her dress up and down. “You look like an angel, Elle. A pretty angel.”

  “Thanks, Daisy. That’s sweet.” She kissed her sister’s cheek. “You look like an angel, too.”

  The bridesmaids’ dresses were red. Daisy looked down at herself and adjusted her skirt. Then she cast a questioning look at Elle. “Maybe I look like Minnie Mouse.”

  Elle laughed, and for a moment she didn’t feel suffocated with doubts. “Yes, Daisy. You look like Minnie.”

  The minutes slipped away slowly, painfully. When the time reached five till eleven, Elle stationed herself near the window. Her sisters had gone out into the foyer to mingle with the guests. Only her mother remained in the room with her. “Go, Mom. Please? Find out if he’s here.”

  Her mother didn’t say anything. Her pale face said it all. At eleven o’clock sharp, she returned and shook her head. “Does he have a cell phone?”

  “Yes.” She was shaking by then, shivering from head to toe. She could hear her veil crinkling from the way her shoulders shook. She dug through her purse and only then realized that she’d had her phone set to the vibrate mode. When she opened it, she saw that she had four missed calls.

  Frantically she scrolled through them. Each one was from Trace. Her head was spinning and she could barely concentrate. She sat on the edge of a desk chair and put her head down. Anything to get the blood to flow to her brain so she wouldn’t pass out.

  “Elle . . . what is it?” Her mother knelt by her side, her hand on her shoulder. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

  “It’s Trace.” She lifted her head. “He’s called four times.”

  “Okay, then.” Her mother nodded to the phone. “Call him back. He’s probably just running late.”

  Elle couldn’t stop the spinning in her head. Running late? She clung to the idea. Yes, that had to be it. He had gotten stuck in traffic or his car had broken down, or a pipe had burst beneath his sink. Or maybe he’d stopped to help someone in trouble. There had to be a reason.

  She tried to swallow but her throat was too dry. She lifted the cell phone, but she was shaking too badly to dial his number. “Here.” She handed it to her mother. “Call him for me. Please.”

  Her mother looked as frightened as she was. She took the phone and scrolled through the missed calls. Then she hit the send button. After a few seconds she handed it back. “It’s ringing.”

  On the third ring, Trace answered. From the beginning she could tell he was crying. Weeping, even. “Elle . . . I’m sorry, honey. I’m so sorry.” Every word was another sob.

  Her heart pounded so hard she was certain it would burst through her chest or stop altogether. She gripped the phone and paced to the window. “Talk to me, Trace. What happened? Were you in an accident?”

  “No.” He had never sounded so distraught. “I can’t do it, Elle. I can’t marry you.” He moaned. “God, why do I feel this way? Why is this happening?”

  She was seeing black spots now. Was he praying? And why now, why his doubts at the very hour they were supposed to be saying their vows? “Trace . . .” She steadied herself against the window sill and closed her eyes. “I . . . I don’t understand.”

  “I’ve fought it all my life, Elle.” He stopped crying long enough to explain himself. Even so, his words were punctuated with quiet sobs. “I’m in love with someone else. Another teacher. I tried . . . I tried to let him go, but I couldn’t.”

  Elle’s breathing grew shallow and she gasped for air, grabbed at any way to understand what he’d just said. “Him? You’re . . . you’re in love with a man?”

  Across the room, her mother dropped to another chair. “Dear God, no . . . no.”

  Trace was going on, saying something about it being wrong. “All my life I’ve had to choose. God and His goodness, or the desires of my flesh.” He let out a cry that cut through her. “I can’t promise you forever when . . . when I’ll be looking for every chance to be with him. Oh, Elle . . . I’m so sorry.”

  It wasn’t happening. The only way Elle was able to fill her lungs, to keep from passing out or having a heart attack, was by convincing herself that what she was hearing was all a lie. It was impossible. Trace Canton, her one true love, wasn’t leaving her stranded at the altar for a man. No way.

  She let the shock work its way through her body, through her heart and soul. He was still going on about getting counseling and knowing it was wrong and wanting God’s will, when she interrupted him. “I have to go, Trace.” Her voice was cold, unfeeling. “Good-bye.”

  Her phone felt like a burning piece of coal. She closed it and dropped it at the same time. Then she turned to her mother, but the words wouldn’t come. Not that she needed words. Everything that could’ve been spoken had already been said. Her mother, too, looked ready to pass out. Always in their growing-up years, Elle had been the strong daughter, the one who rubbed her mother’s back when the task of raising four daughters without the help of a husband seemed daunting to her.

  Elle was the daughter who took responsibility for Daisy, helping her with kitchen tasks and reading to her when their mother was busy with the other girls, and she was the one who, of course, had gone into teaching—just one more way she could help people. But here, with three hundred wedding guests sitting in the sanctuary down the hall, Elle couldn’t take another step.

  Her mother must’ve known. Because she stood and drew a long breath. “I’ll talk to them. I’ll say there’s been a change of plans.”

  The shock was still exploding through her, but Elle had never loved her mother more than in that single moment. An hour later, when the wedding guests were long gone and she and her mother and sisters had wept together until they had no more tears to cry, they went back to Elle’s apartment.

  She stayed the summer with her mother and Daisy, unwilling to talk about Trace or the disastrous wedding day. In July, she received a letter from him. He had quit his job as principal of Pinewood and had relocated to Los Angeles. He was still seeking God’s will, still aware that acting on his passions was sinful. He asked her to pray for him.

  A year later, on what would’ve been their first anniversary, she pulled the letter out and realized that God had been healing her heart even when getting up every day had been a struggle. Because on that day, with tears streaming down her face, she did the thing she couldn’t do until that moment.

  She prayed for Trace Canton.

  And then she folded up the letter and tucked it into a box with the invitations and napkins, and the guestbook that had never been used.

  People who knew her well said things intended to make her feel better. “Better to find out now, Elle. Better than living your life with him and having him leave you three years from now.” Or, “You’re not the first one to be left at the altar. It’s not a reflection on you, Elle. It was his problem, and it’s his loss.”

  The truth about why he left never came fully to the surface, although the whispering in the lunchroom at Barrett Elementary must’ve been only a fraction of what it was at Pinewood. People talked, and she assumed they knew. But no one ever said a word to her.

  No one but her mother and her sisters. “It’s a lie,” her mother told her one evening, a week after the broken wedding. “Trace is believing a lie. The truth is we all struggle with sin and we all have a choice whether to live life for God or against Him.” She ran her fingers over Elle’s hair. “Don’t let this change how you feel about yourself or about love, Elle. Please, sweetheart.”

  But there was nothing her mother could say or do to undo the damage. If the devil was lying to Trace, he was doing the same thing to her. Because from the moment Trace explained himself on the phone that day, from the moment she stepped out of her wed
ding gown, sobbing so hard she could barely breathe, she became convinced of one thing.

  Love was a lie.

  And she could live the rest of her life without having anything to do with it.

  That was her determination. Yes, she could love her mother and her sisters. And over the next two years she threw herself into getting a master’s degree in special education so she could help Daisy find a better life.

  But she would never open her heart to a man again.

  SHE AND SNOOPY finished two full laps around the park, and Snoopy started whining again. He didn’t like to walk more than two laps, not this close to suppertime. She stopped at a bench and he took the spot on the ground next to her, his warm body pressed against her ankles.

  Once in a while, when she felt particularly close to God, she would allow herself to imagine that if love burst through the doors of her heart some far-off day, she wouldn’t stop it. She wouldn’t pursue it, but she wouldn’t resist it, either. Not if God had a plan for her to find love again. Even that was a stretch. She thought about the past few days, and the visitor who had plagued her classroom and her thoughts. Yes, God might bring love into her life again. But not in the form of a married man. The one thing she could never, ever do was allow herself to have feelings for Cody Gunner. Because the first time her heart was broken, she was lucky to escape with her life. Elle had no doubt that the next time wouldn’t merely set her back a few years.

  It would kill her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Cody had planned to make his mind up about his brother’s involvement at the ILC before the Friday field trip. But the closer it got to Friday, the more he knew he wanted to attend the trip with Elle and her class. He loved her compassion, loved the way she worked with her students.

  Or maybe he just loved watching her.

  Whatever it was, he didn’t want to stop spending time with her. The days with Carl Joseph at the center had given him the distraction he’d been looking for. Even if he hadn’t been looking for a girl with hazel eyes.