Love Story
Page 12
They were both breathless. Elizabeth laughed and played with her ponytail. She placed her hand in his as they started on the path. A few steps and she stopped, her eyes bright. “I forgot one thing.”
“One thing?”
“That I want to be someday.” She giggled. “I want to be a firefighter.”
He loved her. Everything about her. “You’d be the first one, then.”
“Wait.” She held up her finger, laughing harder now. As if she was giddy from all the feelings. “Not all the time. Just for a day. So I can see what it’s like to wear that heavy uniform and have the power to put out fires.”
“You’re wonderful.” He put his arm around her shoulders and they kept their pace slow, their steps in time with each other. Like another kind of dance. He glanced at her. “A firefighter?”
“Since I’m giving you the list,” her eyes sparkled up at him, “I don’t want to leave anything off.”
“I see that.” He wanted to kiss her again, but he didn’t dare. His resistance was only so strong.
They returned to the blanket John had spread out earlier and finished their afternoon with a picnic near the edge of the lake. All around them families sat at wooden tables and couples cozied up on blankets, lost in each other. Little kids laughed and ran across the grass, and all of it seemed like a painting. Like the lot of them were only here to provide the perfect backdrop for John and Elizabeth.
On the way home, the plan was that he’d take Elizabeth back to Betsy’s. Elizabeth’s parents had agreed to her staying the night at Betsy’s house as long as she was home early for church.
John looked at his watch. But he already knew they were running an hour early. His house was empty again; the Wesleys had once more taken the family to the lake for the weekend. The possibility took root in John’s mind and wouldn’t let go. He shifted in the driver’s seat, thinking of a way to ask her. She could come over for an hour. Nothing more.
Nothing good can come from it, he told himself. Don’t ask her. But he could already feel his strength waning. And then, as if she could read his mind, Elizabeth looked at him. “We’re early.”
He clenched the muscles in his jaw. It wouldn’t hurt. Not if they kept the visit short. A quick glance her way. “I was just thinking that.”
She nodded and turned her attention to the road ahead of them. They were almost to Ann Arbor.
John could feel the words fighting their way out. Elizabeth wasn’t going to take the lead on this. He swallowed. They’d be careful. Everything would be okay. “My family’s gone again.” He kept his gaze straight ahead. Whatever duplicity might lie in the depth of his eyes, he didn’t want her to see it.
“When do they come home?” She stared at her hands. Her tone told him she was battling her feelings, same as he was. The anxiety over needing to be back at Betsy’s versus the other need . . . the greater need.
The chance to be together for another hour.
He reached across the seat and took her hand. With the decision between them as heavy as their unspoken desire, he worked his fingers between hers. The feeling stripped away every last ounce of his defenses. The touch of her skin against his, a sort of tipping of the scales so that there really was no decision to make.
“Maybe . . . you could come over? We could watch TV or listen to music.” He cast her a weak smile. “Just be together.”
Elizabeth was a naïve nineteen. She looked young because she was young, and John already knew he was her first kiss. Now as she turned her eyes to him, he could see that she wanted to be with him. But more than that, she trusted him. Her shy look told him so. “I’d like that, John.” She hesitated. “I’d love it.”
They wouldn’t cross lines. John would make sure of that. Just to have her alone, without other people around them. The two of them laughing and talking and dreaming without distraction. He thought some more. Okay, so maybe they might kiss. Just once or twice. Nothing too intimate. Yes, this was a good choice. John was sure. Nothing inappropriate would happen. He felt himself relax.
The rest of the ride home he entertained her with stories from his classes. “So we’re dissecting a frog. Like I had to do in undergrad.” He chuckled. “And all I could think was, How is this going to help me treat patients in an emergency room?”
She laughed and he could feel her relax a little. “Not a lot of frogs rushing into the hospital.”
“Exactly.”
They laughed until they arrived at his home. He held her hand as the two of them walked inside. “I’ll get you water.” Definitely water. The Wesleys didn’t keep beer in the house. Except . . . The week before, one of the Wesleys’ friends had joined them for a cookout and brought a six-pack. As far as John knew, four of the beers were still in the fridge.
Not a good idea, he told himself. Besides, Elizabeth was underage. He wouldn’t consider giving her something to drink. He poured her a glass of water and then opened the refrigerator. A pop, maybe. Coca-Cola or a root beer. Something to keep him busy while they sat together. So he wouldn’t think about how very alone they were.
But when he opened the door, when he looked at the drinks on the second shelf, the only one that looked good was the Budweiser. He hesitated. He could have one. Elizabeth wouldn’t mind. Kids at U of M drank, after all. It wasn’t like she’d judge him for it. He grabbed a can and walked back to the living room.
Elizabeth was sorting through the music. She looked up when she heard him and glanced at his drink. “Beer?”
“Just one.” He handed her the water and raised the can in her direction. His grin kept the situation light. “I’m old enough, you know.”
She seemed to process that. “True.” She laughed. “I keep forgetting how old you are.”
“How old?” He mouthed the words. They both laughed. John pulled the tab on the beer and joined her near the shelf of eight-track albums in the corner of the room. He took a swig. The pungent liquid hit the spot. The day at the lake had made him thirstier than he had known. “What do you want to hear?”
Elizabeth looked through the choices. “Hmmm . . . Here!” She pulled out the Beatles. “You have Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club? I listened to it the other day at Betsy’s house.”
“Sure.” He chuckled. “Looks like we’re playing that one.”
They sat next to each other on the sofa and for forty minutes they talked about their peers at school and laughed at some of the university’s more difficult professors and listened to the Beatles. John wasn’t really paying attention, but one beer led to another, and then a third. He drank on occasion, but not every weekend the way some of his friends did. By the time he started his fourth, John was feeling it.
“Be careful.” Elizabeth’s laugh faded as he began to drink it. “You’ll get sick.”
“I’m fine.” He smiled at her and set the beer down. The album was over, so he walked back to the corner of the room. “This one’s my choice.”
The buzz was coming on, warming his core and blurring the edges. He flipped through the music until he found the right one. Exactly what he was looking for. Billboard Top Pop Hits: 1967. “This.” He held it up and grinned at her. “You’ll love it.”
“It reminds me of our first night.” She tipped her head back as she laughed. “I’ll never forget you teaching me how to dance.”
Like a magnet to steel, John returned to her. He took his beer, finished it off and set down the empty can. Then he held out his hand. “Miss . . .”
She giggled as she took his fingers. “What are we doing?”
“Practicing.” He helped her to her feet. “Ready? This one’s a swing.” He slid the sofa and chair back to give them room. And like that they were twirling around the living room. Elizabeth was a natural. She could’ve added dancer to her long list of career possibilities.
The next song had something close to a jitterbug beat, and by the time it was over, they were both out of breath, laughing and ready for a rest. “I’ll get you more water.”
He leaned on the wall so he wouldn’t look wobbly. The beer was hitting him hard. Giving him permission to kiss her the way he couldn’t do if he was sober. His smile came easily. “Just a little longer.” He went to the kitchen, and this time he poured water for both of them. Enough beer. As he handed her the glass he clinked his against hers. “As soon as we finish the album.”
The next song was midtempo. John raised his eyebrows. “ ‘The Twist.’ Come on!” They set their waters down.
“I should go. It’s getting dark out.” Elizabeth’s words didn’t match the light in her eyes.
“You’ll be fine.” He thought about turning on the living room lights, but it was better this way. The night sky giving them their own personal dance hall. Music filled the room and they twisted until John’s dizziness sent him straight into her arms. “I twist better with you.”
“John . . . are you drunk?” She laughed again, but didn’t seem worried.
“On you.” He worked to keep from slurring his words. The song was ending, which was a good thing. John didn’t feel like twisting. The next track was the reason he had picked the album. The first notes and Elizabeth’s eyes found his.
“ ‘Never My Love.’ ”
The air between them changed. The laughter faded, and in its place came a passion that—if they were honest—had been there all along. Just beneath the surface. John held her so their bodies were slightly closer than before.
When the lyrics began he sang them straight to her, like the music had been written for them alone. “You asked me if there’d come a time . . . when I’d grow tired of you. Never my love.”
She began to sing, too.
But then the words died on their lips and they stopped singing. He swayed with her but the dance was no longer the point. John wanted to kiss her more than he wanted his next breath. Here in the living room. The two of them with the lights off and only a dim remaining sliver of daylight filling the air. Just one kiss.
He felt Elizabeth move still closer. The song played on around them, only now John could feel her soft breath. Just one kiss. His lips found hers and the moment lasted longer than he intended.
He caught his breath, but then he was kissing her again. Another time and another. The buzz made him feel like he was floating. Or maybe it was Elizabeth making him feel that way. He was tilting, swaying. Already he couldn’t think straight. If they didn’t stop . . .
“Elizabeth . . .” He took a step back. All he wanted was to be in her arms again. “You have to go.” A ribbon of fear worked its way through his desire. He needed to get her home. Needed to get a grip.
“Yes.” She sounded certain. It was time to go. But she came to him and this time she started the kiss. After a minute, John no longer knew the name of the song playing in the background. There was Elizabeth and only her. She took a moment to breathe and her eyes found his. “But . . . you’ve had too much to drink. You can’t drive.”
“I can’t?”
“No.” She kissed him again. “I’ll sleep on the couch. And you can take me in the morning.”
His lips were on hers once more. “You . . . you have to call Betsy.”
“Okay.”
He was swaying again, the drink still having its way with him. “Here.” With unsteady steps he led her to the couch.
They both sat down, and as if he was helpless against gravity, he lay down and stretched out. She did the same. “You have to go to your room.”
“Yes.” He meant to sit up again. He wanted to sit up. But he wanted to kiss her more. Kiss her here, lying beside her. They fit so well on the sofa, his body against hers. “I have to go.”
They kissed and after a minute she whispered, breathless. “Go, John.”
“Okay.” His lips moved over hers. “Goodnight, Elizabeth.”
They were the last words he said for a long time. He kissed her and kissed her again and he could feel his hands finding their way to places they never should’ve gone. Ten minutes passed, then twenty and John felt like it was a dream. The most wonderful breathtaking dream.
The next thing John knew it was morning.
He and Elizabeth were lying tangled up beneath a blanket and she was asleep. She had never called Betsy and he had never stopped. Never gone to his room. And in that instant a realization hit him. One that would haunt him every day for the next year. For the rest of his life.
In a moment of weakness he had ruined everything.
12
Commotion broke out at the front entrance to the tent where Andi was still working. She was passing out water bottles when she heard people shouting and clapping. Happy voices, the type that were rare after a disaster.
Andi followed the sound up the aisle and at the same time she saw an older woman being escorted by a smiling Caleb into the temporary housing. The woman’s clothing was ripped and her hair was matted. She was shaking, her eyes wide and frightened.
“Patsy, you’re going to be just fine.” Caleb pointed toward the adjacent aisle of beds. “Your husband’s here. I’m sure of it!”
Her husband! Was this really her? Harry’s Patsy? Andi felt her heartbeat double as she watched. Setting the water bottles down, Andi turned and looked in Harry’s direction. He was curled on his side, napping. She had to get to him. She took the quickest route to Bed Eleven and watched as Caleb walked the woman closer.
His dark eyes met hers and he grinned. With his free hand he gave her a thumbs-up. “This is her!” He mouthed the words as he drew near.
Harry had become a favorite for both Andi and Caleb. Every day the two of them talked with Harry about Patsy and where she might be and how she must be missing him. Andi had prayed, but Caleb insisted the woman couldn’t be alive. It had been nearly two weeks since Harry was brought to the tent.
But now there was no doubt. Caleb and Patsy reached Bed Eleven and then it happened. The weary woman stopped short and began to cry. Hands over her face, she stood there in the middle of the temporary housing and wept.
Patsy had found Harry.
Andi gently nudged the older man’s shoulder. “Harry!” She spoke in a voice soft but urgent. “Harry, wake up!”
His eyes flew open and before he was fully awake, he kicked his legs to the floor and sat. “Did they find her? My Patsy?” They were always the first words out of his mouth after a spell of sleep. Did they find her?
“She’s here, Harry.” Andi pointed to the woman standing there. “That’s her, right?”
Harry drew a soft gasp. “Patsy . . .” He stood as Andi helped him to his feet. Her name was a whisper on his lips.
Then in the most beautiful moment, Patsy lowered her hands from her face and their eyes met.
Harry began to walk to her. “Patsy, you’re home!”
She walked a little steadier with Harry in sight. Andi stepped back with Caleb as the older couple fell into each other’s arms and embraced, both of them crying.
“It’s a miracle.” Caleb’s arm brushed against Andi’s. “They found her at a neighbor’s house. I guess the neighbors had already evacuated, and when Patsy and Harry got separated in the floodwaters, she swam across the street.”
Andi wasn’t sure what she was enjoying more. The reunion playing out before her eyes, or the nearness of Caleb. She tried to concentrate. “Unbelievable.”
“I know.” Caleb stood a little closer to her. “She stayed on the kitchen counter and drank water from the sink. When the waters receded a bit, she ate canned tuna and apples from their cupboard.”
“By herself?” Andi couldn’t imagine the desperation the woman must’ve felt.
“Yes.” Caleb looked at her and their eyes held. “After a week, she moved to the wet sofa.” He shook his head. “It’s extraordinary that she isn’t sick.”
Extraordinary. Andi smiled. She liked that about Caleb. The way he had such comman
d over the English language. Caleb went on to explain that Patsy had already been evaluated by a doctor. “Their home is gutted. Rushing water must’ve poured through the place all day. The swim across the street was all that saved her life. That and the food and water.”
Andi felt a certainty in her heart. “And the prayers.” She grinned. “It was a miracle, remember?”
He chuckled. “Touché.”
Caleb’s faith was different from Andi’s. He believed in God, but didn’t believe God interacted with His people.
Harry and Patsy were still clinging to each other, hands locked together. Andi couldn’t hear them, but she didn’t need words to understand the beauty of their reunion. That’s what I want someday, Lord. A man who will look at me like that.
Just as quickly as the thought landed, Andi let it go. She enjoyed Caleb, and maybe one day they might find a way to date. If he chose to stay in the United States, or if she felt like moving to Amsterdam. But for now she didn’t dare dream of having a love like Harry and Patsy’s.
She looked at the old couple again. Still . . .
They moved up the aisle and as soon as they reached the workstation, Caleb grinned at her. “By the way . . . you got the assignment you wanted.”
For a few seconds Andi hesitated. “Not the animal shelter?”
“Yes!” Caleb hugged her and the two of them swayed together for a bit. Then he pulled back and searched her face. “Me and you . . . the two of us!” His accent was so thick she could barely understand him. But she was getting better at it. “They like us there for work after lunch.”
Andi felt joy rush through her. Even though she had no doubt helping people was exactly what she should be doing, there were times when it drained her, left her unsure when her next smile would come. Working with lost animals would give her a break, and a little of the happiness she needed. And working with Caleb . . . well . . .
“This is the best news.” She hugged him again, quicker this time.
“God is good, yes?” Caleb reached out and squeezed her fingers. “That’s what you would say.”