Jake’s face registered not well-disguised panic, and Liz finally relaxed, realizing he was as lost as she felt.
She smiled to put him at ease. “I’ll wait. It’s not really that big of a deal anyway. The church is pretty small. You couldn’t miss me.”
Finally a real smile slipped up to his lips. “You’d be hard to miss.”
Liz felt the compliment wrap gently around her heart and flutter there as her gaze drifted up to his. “Thanks. For tonight. It was fun.” Then she saw it, even in the dim light. “Oh, you have some.” She reached for the flour clinging to his temple, just under the dark swath of hair. When her fingers touched him, he let out a soft breath, watching her, willing her not to leave him. Drawn to him, she let her fingers run the length of his face as she gazed up at him, in awe that she could be standing here like this with him and not completely panicking.
For a second nothing moved, and then slowly he bent until their lips met. Not one molecule of her said to back up, to end the kiss, to do anything other than melt into him and his presence. The world plummeted from beneath her feet as his strength took over her ability to hold herself up. His arms came around her, cradling her next to him, asking, seeking, wanting, and giving in return to everything her kiss held. When his lips left hers, he pulled her into his embrace, holding her next to the scratchy black wool of his coat. It was amazing how safe one space could feel.
Her hand felt so right on his back, as if it was made to go there. And his around her felt equally right and real and perfect. A breath as her eyes closed and a sigh that matched his, and then, not wanting to, she pulled back. “So. Church in the morning then?”
“I’ll be there.”
Chapter 12
When Jake made it home, he went into the little apartment, shut the door, and sighed. It was everything he could do to keep himself from running back to hers. Here had always been depressing. Tonight it was worse. Tonight he finally knew this wasn’t the only option in the world. He left the lights off as he trekked to the bedroom and pulled off his boots and coat. Every movement, every memory brought back holding her in his arms, feeling her complete trust, her desire to be with him that was as real as his was to be with her.
Laying his coat on top of his boots, he leaned back and then lay down on the bed. Seven a.m. That meant he needed to be gone by six-thirty at the latest. He let his gaze find the clock— nearly midnight. Really he didn’t care, only that it was seven long hours before he could be with her again. He closed his eyes and let sleep take him. The faster it came, the faster the hours would pass. With a smile of anticipation, he relaxed until all else faded away.
Jasmine was back at the library. The satchel dangling from her hand could hold just any old thing, but it did not. It held everything. She climbed the steps, glancing about only once. There could be no nerves, no outward sign that anything was amiss, nothing to alert anyone who might be alert to her presence here. To the second floor and then upward, she climbed. Mr. Nguyen had made it very clear— when she returned the book, no one could know. No one.
At the fourth floor, Jasmine crossed the silent area filled with tables but no people all the way to the reference desk.
The person there looked up, and Jasmine shook off the alarms ringing through her. “May I help you?”
“Yes. I’d like to speak with Mr. Nguyen, please.”
“Mr. Nguyen?” the lady asked, and there was only the barest hint of recognition in her eyes. “I’m sorry. No Mr. Nguyen works in this department.”
With one jolt, Jake was awake. No Mr. Nguyen? But that would mean… pieces and possibilities snaked every which way from him. Why would Nguyen give her the book and then disappear? Was he murdered? Did anyone else know she had the book? And if so, who, and were they watching? Did the person at the desk know everything or nothing? And, what did Jasmine do now?
He yanked the covers from his legs and padded through the darkness over to the closet. It wasn’t a great solution, but he couldn’t afford to lose this scene, and it was too likely that by morning it would be gone.
Liz was beginning to question her memory. He had said he would meet her at church, right? And she was to wait for him at the back, right? Yes. She was almost positive that was the plan. So where was he? Had he gotten lost? Had he forgotten? Or had he decided against coming, and if he wasn’t coming now, had he also decided not to come later?
It was impossible to keep the panic and frustration out of her spirit. To think she had been ready to give him her heart…
The door to the cold, bleak outside world creaked open, and she looked up, knowing and yet wondering at the same time. Gratefulness and worry clogged her chest the second she saw him, and she stood as he entered, head down, clearly trying not to make any noise. Breathing and yet not, she stepped over to him just as he turned. “You made it.”
His gaze slid down her and then back to her eyes as a sparkle she had never seen lit his. Reaching up, he pulled the little brown knit hat from his head and scraped his fingers through his chocolate brown hair. “Sorry I’m late.”
“‘s okay. Come on.” She took his hand, not wanting to tempt fate any further by letting him get away again.
Into the church they went, her leading, him following although his steps behind her felt vaguely unsteady as if he wasn’t paying any attention to walking. When they got to a bench that had seats available, she slipped in and turned to check on him. Awe was the only word that could describe his face. It shone as he looked all around the beautiful church. It was small, but it was decorated in the old style décor. Statues and pillars. The whole nine-yards.
Liz knelt for two seconds, knowing the service was well-started. Then she sat back with him and reached for his hand again. Jake’s gaze came over to her, and the writing in his eyes spoke eloquently of wonder and admiration and surprise. She wanted to ask, but now was not the time. Instead, she turned her attention to the front, glad beyond words that he had suggested accompanying her today. It truly was a day to give thanks.
Jake knew he should stop gawking, but he simply couldn’t help it. Everywhere he looked was something new to contemplate, to admire, to marvel at. The statues were incredible, the colors, the faces— filled with compassion and love— gazed down at them. The large stained glass windows that lined the walls. The fresco at the front depicting a man and woman on some kind of journey. What it meant, he could only guess, but it filled him to the brim with wonder just the same. There were words too, but he couldn’t concentrate on them long enough to decipher what they were saying.
It was like being immersed in sensory overload, the library and the museum times a million. He couldn’t explain that, but he felt it to the middle of the depth of his soul. How had he lived for nearly 30 years without experiencing this?
“Amen,” Liz said next to him, and they stood together. Why? He had no idea, but he didn’t question it. No. He stood and retook her hand, glad to be here, with her. Thanksgiving. Yes, he was very thankful to the One who had graciously brought her into his life. If God was real, He must really love him because the gift of her could not be a coincidence or even fate. No. As sure as he stood there, Jake knew there was more to it than that. He could feel it deep in his bones, and right then and there, he bowed his head and thanked the God he had never really known for coming after him even when he was lost, even when he didn’t believe.
The shake of his head and the smile came without him even realizing they were there. He was so lucky. Unbelievably lucky.
A hard yawn from the all-night writing session slipped through him. Beating it back didn’t work and he shook and then sniffed it back. However, as he stood there, feeling like God’s new special assignment, he couldn’t help but wonder if God had had a hand in that as well. Jake smiled at the possibility. The world in all its mystery opened up before him. Maybe there was more to this whole life thing than he’d ever realized. When he looked down at her, he almost couldn’t help laughing for the joy. It was just too unbelievable to be
true, and yet somehow here he was, standing in a church, holding hands with the most beautiful girl in the world. There was definitely more to life than he had ever realized. Together felt better than he could ever have imagined.
Liz breathed in the chilly air as they ambled down the sidewalk back to her apartment. Maybe it was the early morning or the holiday. Whatever it was, it felt like they had the whole city to themselves. “So…?” She looked up at him, trying to fit the fact that he was here walking with her into the belief that this wasn’t a dream. “How was church?”
He lifted his chin and nodded as if to say not bad. “Different.”
“Different?”
“Yeah. I guess I always imagined it to be like all woo-hoo, call down the spirits or something.”
“So you didn’t go to church when you were younger?”
“Nah. Mom wasn’t big on that stuff.”
“And your dad?”
“Dad was glad to have a day to sleep off the night before.”
It was Liz’s turn to lift her chin. “And when you were on your own…”
He shrugged. “It just never felt that important.”
She digested that, trying to figure out where that left them.
“But today was cool,” he said quickly as if he sensed her thoughts. “Peaceful-like, you know.” The black shoulders of his coat arched up. “I guess it’s been awhile since I’ve had much peaceful in my life. Mostly it’s been boredom punctuated by short bursts of chaos.”
“And that’s easier?”
“I don’t know that it’s easier exactly. I just never could quite figure out how to get out of it. Get up, go to work, make enough not to freeze or starve to death, go home, sleep, and start all over the next day.”
“What about the writing? That’s more than boring and less than chaos.”
He took three steps before he shrugged. “I don’t know. A distraction maybe?”
“From what? Life?”
“Something like that.”
Part of Liz wanted to argue, but when she looked at her own life, she could hardly find the argument to refute his version of reality. Her mind worked through it all— his reality, hers and theirs. “So what happens when your book gets published and you make a million dollars?”
His smile was barely there. “That’d be nice, but…” He kicked his boots down the cold, hard, concrete, saying no more.
“But…?” She looked over at him, waiting for the answer that didn’t come. Then she understood. “You don’t think it’ll ever happen.”
When he shrugged, it barely moved anything, and his gaze slid out to the storefronts and traffic beyond.
“Why don’t you think it will happen?” She walked and waited, but no answer came. “Jake?” A step and his gaze slid over to hers. In it, she read the hurt and despair. “What?”
But he just shook his head and twisted his gaze away from her. “Nothing.”
Liz tried to divine what he wasn’t saying. “The story is really good, you know? I mean, I’m hooked, and I haven’t even actually read any of it.”
He sniffed in the cool air but never really looked back at her. “It’s a lot easier to come up with the story than to get it written down. The story’s the easy part.”
She thought about that for a little bit and then half-shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I could probably write it if I could come up with something to say.”
They turned into the parking lot of her apartment and went in. Once inside, they pulled layer after layer off and hung them at the door.
“Whew,” Liz said, fingering through her hair to get the static out of it. “Nothing like winter in New York.”
“Tell me about it.” When he was sufficiently de-layered, Jake heaved a breath and slapped his hands together. “Well, we’d better get to cooking.”
The turkey was in the oven along with the sweet potatoes. The rest of the meal was in the process of cooking as well, but everything was on low because neither of them was really hungry yet. Back on the couch, which Jake was starting to love, Liz reached over and punched the buttons on the remote.
“You a football fan?” Jake asked, fighting off the yawn. Three a.m. was dogging his heels again.
“Dad always watches it,” she said. “It doesn’t feel much like Thanksgiving without it.”
Jake nodded and settled back into the cushions, grabbing a pillow to hug, and fighting another yawn. “So who’s playing?”
“Uh, Detroit and…” Liz squinted to read the tiny print. “Looks like the Jets.”
“Oh.” Sleep was coming at him hard now. “Is it supposed to be a good game?”
“It’s Detroit. What do you think?”
He didn’t know, really, but he acted like he did. The couch was getting softer and more comfy by the second. It felt like falling into a soft, safe embrace. For a second he gave up the fight and let his eyelids fall closed. Then he jerked them open, willing them to stay that way. Such great company he was. “What’s the score?”
“I think it just started.” She swiveled around to look at the clock. “Yeah, it just started.”
“Oh.” It was the last thing he thought on the way out.
Liz realized he had fallen asleep when she heard the soft sounds of his breathing. Surprised, she carefully leaned over to check. Yes, he was, in fact, asleep. “Well, that’s good, Liz-bet. You put him to sleep in record time.”
Pulling her shirt down over her jeans, she stood and went into the kitchen. She stirred first one pot and then the other, checking them over and turning them down to really low. Opening the oven, she checked the turkey. It would be all right. Then she closed the oven and looked around for something else that needed done. Set the table.
She got the dishes out— the best ones she owned and took them out to the dining room. Quietly she set them out, completing the setting with nice glasses and silverware. She wished she had nice cloth napkins but paper towels would have to do. When the table was fully set, she wondered what else might keep her busy.
His soft snoring on the couch made her shake her head. It was strange how normal this all felt— as if she had been doing it just like this her whole life. Figuring it would be awhile before they ate, she went back to the living room and curled onto her side of the couch. She looked over at him, wondering how he could sleep like that. It didn’t look very comfortable. As she half-watched the television, she wondered why he was so tired. Maybe it was because he hadn’t had his requisite seven cups of coffee the night before. Or maybe it was just that he had a day off, and he was tired.
She finally decided that she could sit here and be upset or she could get something productive done while she waited. So she got up and grabbed the book on dyslexia she had picked up at the library. There hadn’t been much time to get it read. Now was as good a time as any.
Cheering. That was the first thing Jake heard when he slipped out of the grasp of sleep. He came back to consciousness and shook his head trying to figure out where he was and why he was there. Suddenly it all came back with a rush and he jumped six inches. “Oh, man.” Swiping at his eyes and face, he shook his head hard. “Was I asleep?”
Liz looked over at him and laughed. “Yeah, for like two hours. If you don’t be careful there, you’re going to give me a complex.”
“Oh, my gosh. I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“Well, I thought about it, but I didn’t want to get my couch all wet with the bucket of cold water.”
Jake raised his eyebrows in fright and rubbed his hand over the cushion. “Thank you, couch. I owe you one.”
She closed the book on her lap. “So you hungry yet?”
“Starving actually.”
“Good because I think the overcooked turkey is probably about ready.”
The smells drifted into his consciousness, and he stretched, knowing he should apologize again but really feeling better for the nap. “Wow. Something smells delicious.”
“Ye
ah. Let’s hope it tastes that way.” She stood and strode into the kitchen where he heard the pots and pans start banging around.
It was weird how the sleep clung to him, like a rabid dog it did not want to let go. On his way to the kitchen, he noticed that the table was already set and that it was almost two o’clock. Embarrassment crawled through him. “Anything I can help with?”
She half-turned from the oven. “The green beans are done. Here you go.” She handed him one pan and then another. “And here’s the stuffing. I put potholders on the table already just put them on those.”
Together they went about putting out the food, which when it was all on the table suddenly looked like enough to feed a small army.
“Gee, I hope you really are hungry,” Liz said, sitting down.
“And I hope you invited half the neighborhood,” he said laughing. “Did we buy all of this?”
“Didn’t look like this much in the basket.” She looked over at him. “Shall we pray?”
Without protest, he bent his head.
“Dear Father,” she began, “thank You for Your love and Your provision. We ask You to be with those who are travelling this weekend. Let them get safely to their destination and home again. Thank You for the company and for giving us Your Grace. We thank You and we praise You. Amen.”
“Amen,” Jake echoed.
When the prayer broke, he didn’t immediately reach for anything, just sat for a moment saying his own prayer of thanksgiving for God letting him be here with her. “So, what were you reading?” He took the serving spoon and began dishing the food out to her and to himself. “Homework?”
“No. More on dyslexia. Did you know that there isn’t just one form of dyslexia? And it can be caused by a lot of different things.”
“Really?”
“And there are different forms of the types of problems you can have too. Like you can have dyscalculia which is trouble with numbers, or you can have dysgraphia, which is trouble writing.”
More Than This: Contemporary Christian Romance Novel Page 21