by Irene Hannon
Amy stepped out of his arms and took his hand. “Come on in. I have some wine chilling, and you look like you could use some. I thought we might have a glass before we went to dinner.”
“That sounds great.”
By the time Amy returned with two glasses, Cal was settled comfortably on the couch. A white envelope lay on the glass-topped coffee table, and she looked at him curiously as she handed him a glass and sat beside him.
“What’s that?”
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he took a slow sip of his wine, willing his pulse and respiration to behave. Now that the moment was upon him, he was filled with doubts. So much of his future depended on what transpired in this room in the next few minutes, and he was suddenly afraid. Afraid to ask the question. Afraid to hear the answer. Afraid that all along he’d been reading more into Amy’s feelings than was actually there. But he’d come too far now to let fear stop him, so he took a deep breath, placed his wineglass carefully on the table and picked up the envelope.
“Pictures. I wanted to show you this place in person, but the best-laid plans and all that…”
As he opened the envelope, Amy suddenly found her own pulse skyrocketing. Cal was not a man who got rattled easily, but he was definitely nervous now—and doing his best to hide it. She could sense it in the almost imperceptible tremor that ran through his hand, in the way his Adam’s apple bobbed convulsively when he swallowed, in the tense line of his jaw. Something big was in the wind.
Cal withdrew several photos from the envelope and handed them to her. “I found this spot while you were filming the story with Gram. Take a look.”
Amy slowly examined the four photos, her own hands none too steady. They were all shots of the same beautiful, serene spot, taken from different angles. She paused on the last one, a meadow backed by misty mountains, then glanced up at Cal.
“This is a lovely place, Cal. Is there something special about it, other than its beauty?”
Cal took a deep breath and nodded slowly. “I’d like to buy it. Build a cabin that looks out directly on that view.” He nodded toward the photograph in her hand.
Amy glanced back down at the picture. “It would make a great weekend getaway.”
He cleared his throat. “Actually, Amy, I’m thinking of making it a permanent getaway.”
She sent him a startled gaze. “What do you mean?”
Cal reached into the pocket of his jacket and withdrew a small jeweler’s box. Amy’s gaze dropped to the square package, then returned to his as her heart stopped, then raced on.
“I wanted to do this right there,” he said, again nodding toward the photo, “on the spot where I’d like to build a cabin. I wanted to stand with you under the setting sun, in the midst of God’s beautiful creation, and ask you to spend the rest of your life with me. But this will have to do, because I can’t wait any longer.”
He reached over and took her hand, his intense gaze locked on hers. “If someone had told me the day we met that someday I’d ask you to marry me, I would have thought they were crazy,” he admitted, his voice slightly unsteady. “But I think we’ve both discovered over the past few months that we have a lot more in common than either of us expected. And somewhere along the way I fell in love with you. With your energy and compassion and commitment and sense of humor—all the things that make you who you are. I want to spend the rest of my life listening to your laughter, waking up next to you, watching your eyes glow with passion and enthusiasm and joy and all the other emotions that have enriched my life so much these past few months. I want to build a future with you, Amy. A future that counts for more than dollars or prestige or power, and that will leave a lasting legacy of love for our children and their children.”
He paused and drew a deep breath. “I love you, Amy. And I want to share the rest of my life with you. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Amy stared at him in shock. Not because of the proposal. She’d known for some time that they were heading in this direction. Cal had made his feelings for her clear, and she had reciprocated. Over the past several months she had come to accept—and love—him for who he was: a man who had the opportunity for power and wealth, but who found no inherent value in those things. A man who gave generously, and without recognition, to others. A man of both strength and gentleness, who had an infinite capacity to love.
Amy had also learned much from Cal. Thanks to him, she had begun to realign her own priorities, had begun to set some limits on the sacrifices she was willing to make to advance her career. And she had come to realize that she could be content to share a simple life with this very special man, who made her rich in ways that couldn’t be measured in dollars and cents. She was more than willing to change her lifestyle.
But Cal wasn’t asking her to change her lifestyle. He was asking her to change her life. Dramatically. It was one thing to put career in second place and live a simpler life in the city, but to give up her career entirely and move to the mountains—it was too much. Though she was prepared to modify her dreams to accommodate him, she couldn’t give them up entirely. Not after all the years she’d spent honing her skills. She’d worked too hard and come too far to just walk away.
Cal saw the emotions sweep over Amy’s face—first shock, followed in succession by confusion, disbelief, hurt and, finally, resistance. His gut clenched, and he suddenly found it difficult to breathe. Apparently his closing argument had been unconvincing, though he’d labored over it far longer than any he’d ever prepared for the courtroom. As he watched, her eyes slowly filled with tears, and his throat tightened painfully. He sensed her closing down, slipping away, and he felt powerless to stop it.
Slowly he reached over and gently touched her cheek. “I can’t say this is the reaction I was praying for,” he admitted, his voice catching. “I always hoped, whenever I finally proposed to the woman I loved, that she’d be happy, not sad.”
“Oh, Cal.” Amy’s voice was choked, as well. “I—I am happy. And honored. But I had no idea you were thinking about making such a radical change in your life. Why didn’t you say something about this sooner? At least give me a clue about what you were considering?”
It was a valid question. And she deserved an honest answer. “For one thing, I wasn’t sure myself,” he said slowly. “I’ve been struggling with this for a long time. Years, actually. I’ve never felt at home in the city, Amy. I’ve tried to make it work, but the only place I’m really happy is in the mountains. I put off this decision longer than I should have, because I didn’t want to disappoint Dad. And then, just when I finally got to the point of deciding that I had to follow my heart, you came along. I know I should have shared this with you sooner, but I was afraid of what it would mean to us. I guess I hoped that if I waited long enough, if we fell in love, we’d find a way to make this work.”
“But how?” she asked helplessly. “What would I do? And what about your career?”
“I’ll still practice law part-time. And I’ve been offered a job with the National Parks Service as a ranger. I know it doesn’t have the prestige of law, but it’s what I’ve always wanted to do. And you’ve said more than once that you’re not altogether happy with your job, that you’d like to find a way to do more feature and issues reporting. I thought you might be open to exploring that.”
Amy stared at him incredulously. “In the mountains? My contacts are all here, Cal. In this business, the ‘out of sight, out of mind’ adage really holds true.”
“I’m sure we can find a way to make this work, Amy.” There was a pleading tone in his voice, but he didn’t care. “I’d stay in the city if I could, but I feel like I’m dying a little more each day in this concrete jungle. And I can’t live someone else’s dream any longer.”
“Yet you want me to live yours.”
Her blunt comment jolted him, and he frowned. “That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is. You’re asking me to give up everything and follow your dream.”
“It sounds to me like all the compromises are on my side.” The hurt in her eyes had given way to anger, and her voice was taut. She rose and walked across the room, clearly agitated. When she turned to him, two bright spots of color burned in her cheeks and she wrapped her arms around herself in an almost protective gesture. “I thought I knew you pretty well, Cal. But I was wrong. You let me fall in love with you, knowing all along how I felt about my work, knowing that you were thinking of leaving the city, knowing how difficult it would be for me to continue in my profession—in any capacity—in the middle of nowhere. You weren’t honest with me, and that was wrong.”
He couldn’t dispute her accusation. He’d always known that withholding that vital piece of information from Amy was a calculated risk, and now he realized just how serious a mistake he had made. Slowly he rose and walked toward her. Her body language clearly said “Back off,” and so he stopped a couple of feet away from her.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “You’re right. I should have shared this with you sooner. I was just so afraid of losing you.”
Amy turned away, fighting to keep her tears at bay. She didn’t want to cry in front of Cal, didn’t want to feel his comforting arms around her. That would make it too easy to give in, to offer to make sacrifices she’d later regret.
“What if I said I’d stay here?”
His quiet voice, touched with desperation, tore at her heart, and she choked back a sob. “After telling me you’re dying a little bit more in the city every day, do you really think I could live with myself if I let you do that?”
Amy walked to the window and stared out, oblivious to the city lights twinkling below. Her world was falling apart, and she saw no way to hold it together. Even if they found a way to accommodate each other’s needs, the pain would remain. She felt betrayed and used and disillusioned. Love was built on trust, and Cal hadn’t trusted her with the greatest secret of his heart. He hadn’t shared his dreams. Amy wasn’t sure if the outcome would have been any different if he’d opened up to her sooner, but at least they could have talked it through, maybe come to some understanding. As it was, he’d thrown the proposal and announcement on her all at once, linking them inexorably. The implication was clear: If you accept one, you must accept the other. And she couldn’t do that.
Slowly she turned back to him. The pain in his eyes almost did her in, but she steeled herself to it, and when she spoke, her voice was surprisingly steady.
“You’ve made your decision, Cal. Without consulting me. You have your life set up exactly the way you want it, and I’m happy for you. But it’s not the life I want. You’re asking me to give up my dreams, just like your father did with you. I thought you understood how important my work is to me. You may be able to be a part-time lawyer in the mountains, but I can’t be a part-time journalist, at least not doing the kind of stories I want to do. Sure, maybe I could get hired to read the news on a local station. But that’s not good enough, Cal. I have more to offer than that.”
Cal wanted to pull her into his arms, into a world where only they existed, unencumbered by conflicts and complications. But love didn’t happen in a vacuum. And the real world wasn’t going to go away. He’d hoped their love would be strong enough to overcome their differences. But he’d been wrong. Wrong to think love could solve all problems, and wrong to expect Amy to so easily accommodate his dreams. Somehow, somewhere along the way, he realized he’d discounted her dreams. He hadn’t meant to do that, and her resentment was valid. But one of them had to give, and much as he loved her, he couldn’t give any more. He needed to go back to the mountains as badly as he needed air to breathe. The trouble was, he needed Amy, too.
Cal raked his fingers through his hair, silently berating himself for how badly he’d handled the whole situation. When his gaze met hers once again, it was filled with love and apology. “I know I’ve hurt you, Amy. I should have brought all this up a long time ago. But I was so afraid of losing you. Can we at least talk about it?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think we have anything to talk about. There’s no way to make this work, Cal.”
He looked at her for a moment in silence, and when he spoke, his voice rang with quiet sincerity and an intensity that came right from the soul. “I love you, Amy.”
At the simple, heartfelt statement, she drew a ragged breath and turned away, blinking back her tears. “Trust is part of love, Cal. So is understanding. And respect.”
Cal looked at Amy’s rigid back, realized just how deeply he’d hurt her and knew that there was nothing else he could do at the moment. He walked back to the coffee table and picked up the ring box, weighing it in his hand before slipping it into his pocket.
“I’ll call you,” he said.
“It might be better if you don’t.”
The finality in her tone made his stomach clench painfully. He didn’t want to leave, not like this, but she was giving him no choice. Slowly he walked toward the door, hoping that she would stop him. But when he looked back, she was still turned away, her posture stiff and unyielding. It was clear to him that this was one problem he couldn’t solve by himself. And so, as he let himself out, he turned to a greater power.
Lord, please help me, he prayed silently. I love Amy. I thought her priorities were changing, that she could be happy in the mountains, but obviously I was wrong. Maybe she can only be happy here, in the city, working in that dog-eat-dog business. But I can’t. And I’ve sacrificed my own needs for so long. Do I have to continue to do that in order to have the woman I love? And wouldn’t I eventually resent her if I did? Lord, I don’t want to be selfish. Please help us find a way to make this work that doesn’t require either of us to give up our dreams. I know that’s a large order, but I also believe that nothing is impossible with You. So please, Lord, help me find a solution. Because I don’t want to lose this once-in-a-lifetime woman.
Chapter Thirteen
Amy stared at the photo of the mountain meadow, as she did most mornings while she sipped her tea. It would be pretty there this time of year, she reflected wistfully, with the leaves touched by the russet tones of autumn and the sky most likely a clear, cobalt blue. Almost three months had elapsed since she’d last seen Cal. Three long, lonely months filled with questions and doubts. Over and over she had asked herself if she’d been wrong to turn down his proposal. And always her heart said yes. Called her a fool. Berated her for throwing away the gift of such a special man’s love. But the yearnings of her heart were overridden by the strident voice of pride, which wouldn’t let her forget his seemingly cavalier dismissal of her dreams. And by logic, which told her that after investing so much time and energy in her career, she couldn’t change course midstream. And by hurt. Cal’s unwillingness to trust her with his own dreams still stung. And finally by fear. Fear that kept her clinging tightly to the lifeline of her job, which, as she knew, played far too large a role in helping define her life and give it value.
Amy fingered the photo, then picked up the only other physical evidence of Cal’s presence in her life—the card that had been attached to the flowers he’d sent after their first date. Four photos and a tiny florist card. That was it. There were no other lingering reminders of Cal in her life.
Except for the memories.
Ah, the memories. Of their initial, unfriendly meeting on the courthouse steps. Of their first “date,” strained in the beginning, then cordial. Of their warm and friendly encounter at Saint Vincent’s. Of her emergency room visit, and Cal’s touching care and concern. Of their trip to the mountains, when they had at last acknowledged their growing feelings for each other. Of the subsequent development of their romance and the glow it had added to her life. And finally, of their painful and heart-wrenching breakup.
Amy sighed and glanced at the phone, knowing that she had only to pick up the receiver and dial Cal’s number to b
ridge the impasse between them. He’d told her that on one of the many messages he’d left, his mellow voice playing havoc with her tattered emotions. “I’m here if you ever change your mind, Amy,” he’d said. “I still love you. I always will. But I won’t force the issue. I only want you to come if it’s what you want.”
His calls had tapered off lately, and she couldn’t blame him for cutting back, especially given her total lack of response. He’d made his position clear, laid his feelings on the table for her to accept or reject, and now the ball was in her court.
Trouble was, she didn’t know what to do with it.
What she did know was that she’d changed over the past few months. She’d begun to find the hustle and noise and impersonal nature of the city less and less appealing. She’d begun to look at her job with an increasingly jaded eye, her earlier disillusionment fed by several less-than-plum assignments that made her realize what a fickle business the daily news game was. More than a few times, she’d found herself wishing for the quiet, serene beauty of the mountains. And always she found herself longing for Cal—for his gentle touch, his caring ways, his ability to make her laugh one moment and send her pulse skyrocketing the next.
Amy had always known that a proposal from Cal would require her to modify her lifestyle. And she’d been prepared to do that. Had, in fact, found that idea more and more appealing. She’d also been more than willing to cut back on work, even if that meant it would take her a little longer to reach her goals. What she hadn’t been prepared to do was pack up her entire life, move to the mountains and strike out in an entirely new career direction. That kind of change seemed far too abrupt and permanent—and it scared her.
And yet…she missed Cal. Desperately. It was as if the sun had dimmed since he’d left, casting a dark shadow on her world. She’d tried praying about the situation, but so far, no guidance had been offered. She felt in limbo, alone and confused. Even Kate hadn’t been much help. Her sister had been sympathetic, of course, and supportive, but Amy knew that Kate didn’t really understand. For her, love always came first, no matter the sacrifice. And maybe she was right. Maybe if love didn’t come first, it wasn’t strong enough to survive the test of time.