by Irene Hannon
Yet she did love Cal, Amy cried silently. With all her heart. But couldn’t she also love her work? Why did it have to be either/or? She didn’t want to give up doing broadcast work that made a difference, that touched and improved people’s lives. Like the Appalachia piece. Good, solid reporting that combined feature and issues work in a seamless way that increased awareness about a serious economic problem under the guise of an entertaining personality profile. In fact, that piece had been nominated for a local Emmy. It was a career coup, one she’d always yearned for, and yet she hadn’t been able to work up much enthusiasm about it, even with the awards dinner now only hours away. Somehow, without Cal to share it with, the honor lost some of its luster.
With a sigh, Amy rose and emptied the dregs of her tea into the sink. Unfortunately, her doubts and confusion couldn’t be so easily washed away, she thought resignedly. Why did life always present such difficult choices? Cal had suggested that the choice didn’t have to be that difficult, that she could have both, but she’d denied it. Told him that a move to the mountains would require tremendous compromises on her part. But was that really true? she suddenly wondered. Certainly, it would require changes. But a change was only a compromise if it was done to make someone else happy. If freely chosen, it was no longer a compromise.
Amy frowned as she considered that new insight, which put a different slant on the whole situation. Maybe, if she approached it from that perspective, she might be able to find a way to work things out.
It was certainly worth some deliberation, she resolved, as she slung her purse over her shoulder and headed out the door. Because the thought of spending the rest of her life without Cal was even more scary than making a major career change.
“And the winner is…Amy Winters, for ‘Appalachia: A World Apart.’”
The ballroom erupted in applause, and Amy let her breath out slowly. She’d done it! She’d actually done it! The coveted Emmy was hers. Okay, so the presenter had said her name wrong, adding an s to Winter. What did he know? She was just one more name on a long list to him. As she was to most of the people in the room, she thought, as she rose and made her way to the front.
Amy took the statuette, stepped to the microphone and looked out on the sea of mostly unfamiliar faces. The room was filled with strangers who didn’t really care about how much this honor meant to her, she realized, who wouldn’t care, in fact, if she got hit by a car while going home tonight. The people who did and would care, and the one face that meant the most to her, were absent. And without those people to share this moment with, the victory was less sweet, she acknowledged with a poignant pang.
As these realizations swept over her, she took a deep breath and forced herself to concentrate on remembering the short speech she’d prepared in case she won.
“As all of you know, the Emmy is one of the highest honors in our profession. So I’m deeply grateful to have been chosen for this award. At the same time, I’m also grateful to have the opportunity to work on stories like this, which have the potential to make life better for so many people. That’s the real reward in this business. I think we often get so involved in the day-to-day reporting that we lose sight of the bigger picture, of the tremendous potential for good that our medium offers. And I think it’s our responsibility to exploit that potential whenever possible.”
Amy paused. The presenter was fidgeting with a piece of paper, clearly eager to move on to the next award. The audience members looked slightly bored, their eyes glazed by too many speeches and too much wine. At least the bigwigs from her station were smiling at her politely from their table in front. But only because the Emmy would generate more viewers for their station and thereby increase commercial revenues, she concluded cynically.
Suddenly Amy thought of Tony Jackson in Knoxville. There was a man she could admire. His Christian station was in business for the message, not the money. He was committed to doing good work that made a difference in people’s lives. The kind of work she liked to do. To him, the money was secondary.
As Amy quickly wrapped up her comments and returned to her table, she felt as if a burden had been lifted from her shoulders. In an instant her doubts and confusion were resolved, and the solution to her dilemma had become clear.
She looked at the statuette in her hand. It was a career milestone, certainly. But more importantly, it was a turning point. Because now she knew exactly what she was going to do.
Cal propped one shoulder against the porch railing and took a sip of his coffee. Autumn was one of his favorite times in the mountains, and he breathed deeply of the fresh, clean scent. There was a nip in the early-November air, and the morning mist still hung over the field in front of the cabin, giving the scene an ethereal beauty. The leaves were a blaze of color on the hillsides, scarlets and oranges and yellows intermingled on a green background, creating a colorful tapestry.
He turned his gaze to the cabin and let it move slowly over the golden logs, still fresh and raw. He’d only moved in a few days ago, but already it felt like home. His part-time law practice was going well, and his job as a ranger was everything he’d hoped it would be. Best of all, he had plenty of opportunity to enjoy the mountains he loved.
Cal knew he was blessed. True, he’d spent a lot of years away from this place, but he’d done good, worthwhile work and, in the end, his time in the city had bought him his dream. He’d invested just about every penny he’d saved in this land and the cabin, but it had been worth it. His needs were simple. And he already had everything he wanted.
Almost.
Cal sighed. His separation from Amy hadn’t dimmed his love for her, nor had it eased the ache in his heart. He longed for her with an intensity that produced an almost physical pain. He’d replayed their last conversation over and over in his mind, and each time he felt a renewed pang of regret. She had been right to be deeply hurt by his error of omission. He should have told her about his dreams much sooner, just as she’d pointed out. And he had discounted her dreams. He’d placed her in a position of choosing him or her career, assuming that if she loved him enough, she’d be willing to follow him to the mountains. But he now realized just what a sacrifice he’d asked of her. He didn’t doubt her love. She’d demonstrated it to him on every level. And she’d been honest in her feelings and about her priorities. He’d simply chosen to overlook a few key things.
Such as her talent. And her independence. And all the hard work she’d put into her career. And just how difficult it would be for her to continue doing the work she loved in such a remote location.
Bottom line, he’d made some bad mistakes.
He’d also realized something else during these past three months. Much as he loved the mountains, much as they filled a real need in his soul, they couldn’t take the place of Amy’s love. And so he’d reached a decision. It wasn’t the ideal solution from his standpoint, but at least it might be a way around the impasse they seemed to have reached.
Cal took another sip of coffee as he listened to the sound of the nearby stream. It always reminded him of the day he and Amy had hiked to the waterfall, when they’d first acknowledged their feelings for one another. In his mind he could see her just as she’d looked on that day, her eyes tender and filled with longing. He recalled the breathless excitement of their first kiss and remembered the feel of her soft, yielding body in his arms. A surge of desire shot through him, and he steadied his cup with both hands as he drew a deep breath. He’d thought by now that the intensity of his feelings would subside, that the attraction would wane, but just the opposite had occurred. She filled every waking thought, not to mention his dreams, and his need for her grew day by day.
Cal stared out over the meadow, and for just a moment he could almost see her walking up the gravel road to his house, out of the mist, her hair caressed by the gentle breeze, striding with that long, loose-limbed grace that was so much a part of her. It was a scene he imagined every day. Except…
Cal frowned and straightened up. He w
asn’t imagining it! Amy was walking up his drive! His heart stopped, then raced on, and he reached out to the support beam, grasping it with a white-knuckled grip. Dear Lord, was he going crazy? Or could this be real?
She didn’t seem to be aware of his presence, half-hidden as he was by the morning shadows under the porch, until she was less than twenty feet away. When their gazes did connect, her step faltered and she stopped.
“Amy?” The word came out hoarsely, half question, half incredulous statement.
Slowly she moved forward again, until she was only a few feet away. “Hello, Cal. I hope you don’t mind an early-morning visitor.” Her words were choppy, and there was a touch of uncertainty in her voice.
His first instinct was to reach out and pull her into his arms, but he hadn’t heard from her in three months and he wasn’t about to make another mistake by jumping to conclusions. So, with great effort, he restrained himself. “What are you doing here?” he asked cautiously.
Amy tried to smile, but couldn’t quite pull it off. “Applying for a job.”
He gave her blank look. “What?”
Amy hadn’t been sure what reaction to expect from Cal after all this time, but she’d hoped at least for warmth. Maybe more. Instead, he seemed distant. But she wasn’t turning around now, even if her stomach was tied in knots and her legs were shaking so badly she was afraid they wouldn’t support her weight.
“Is there somewhere we can sit?”
“Sit?” he repeated, still trying to decipher her last statement.
“You know—that thing you do with chairs.” Maybe if she tried to lighten the atmosphere a bit he’d loosen up, she thought in desperation.
“Oh…sure. I’ve only been in here a few days, but I do have a kitchen set.” He pushed the door open, and nodded her inside.
Amy had only a fleeting impression of golden log walls, hardwood floors and vast windows as Cal led her to the back of the cabin. “Would you like some tea?” His tone was polite, but still cautious.
“Yes. If you don’t mind.”
Cal turned away to fill the kettle, willing his erratic pulse to stabilize. He needed a moment to compose himself, plan his course of action now that the woman he loved was actually in his home. Because he didn’t want to lose her again. Couldn’t lose her again.
Amy stared at Cal’s broad back as he made her tea, and once more her courage threatened to desert her. What right did she have to barge in here after three months and expect to be greeted with open arms when she hadn’t even returned any of his countless calls? What right did she have to think he still felt the same way about her? And what if he didn’t? Her stomach plummeted to her toes, and she suddenly felt dizzy. She probably should have taken time to eat breakfast, she realized. Especially since she’d skipped lunch yesterday and barely picked at her dinner. But she’d been so anxious to get here. Now she was paying the price. She closed her eyes and willed the world to stop tilting.
“Amy?”
At the sound of Cal’s concerned voice, her eyelids flickered open. He was bending down toward her, only inches away, and she wanted to reach out and touch his dear face, smooth away the twin furrows of worry in his brow. But she forced her hands to remain motionless on the table.
“Are you all right? What’s the matter?”
“I’m fine.” Her voice seemed to come from a distance and sounded faint even to her ears.
“You’re not fine. You’re pale as a ghost. Are you sick?”
“No.” With a triumph of will over body, she forced the world to right itself. But she couldn’t do anything about the tremors that ran through her hands.
He hesitated a moment, then sat down across from her, his own hands tightly gripping his mug. He was clearly waiting for her to speak, so she took a deep breath and plunged in.
“Gram told me where to find you. I parked down on the road and walked up because I needed time to gather my courage.”
He eyed her warily. “For what?”
She reached into her purse, withdrew a long white envelope with his name on it and laid it on the table. “For this.” She took a deep breath a pushed it toward him. “Go ahead and open it.”
He gazed at her for a moment, then reached for the envelope and withdrew the contents. The cover letter was addressed formally, and seemed to be a standard job application. He frowned and flipped to the second page. The word position was in bold letters, followed by the word wife. The next line read, “Top ten reasons why candidate would excel at this job.”
Cal scanned the list, a tender smile quirking his lips as he perused it.
10. Good sense of humor
9. Excellent conversationalist
8. Willing to learn how to bake Gram’s fabulous biscuits and apple pie—if she is available for lessons
7. Loves children
6. Likes the way you kiss
5. Considers you her hero
4. Is tired of city life
3. Looks forward to living in the mountains
2. Loves you with all her heart
1. Never does anything halfway
The words blurred in front of his eyes when he reached the end of the list, and he blinked a few times before he looked at her. He wanted to accept what she offered at face value, forget about her dreams, but he couldn’t. He’d made that mistake once, and he wasn’t going to do it again.
“What about your career?”
“I’m resigning from the station in Atlanta.”
He shook his head. “I can’t ask you to do that. I was wrong to suggest it in the first place.”
She reached over and laid her hand on his, her gaze intense and compelling, her voice firm. “I’m resigning, Cal. No matter what happens between us today, I’m moving on. I spent the past couple of days with Tony Jackson in Knoxville, and he’s offered me a job. I believe in what he’s doing, and he’s willing to let me work on the kinds of stories I like best. It’s an ideal arrangement.”
Cal couldn’t doubt the sincerity in her eyes, knew he shouldn’t press his luck, but he had to be sure. “And what about your dreams of a network feature spot?”
Amy shrugged. “It’s funny. I worked toward that goal for a lot of years. Pretty much to the exclusion of all else. In fact, at some point the quest became more important than the goal. And then you came along, and suddenly I began to question a lot of things. It wasn’t easy to admit that maybe my priorities were out of whack, that somewhere along the way I’d gotten so caught up in the glamour and prestige and power and money part of the business that I’d lost sight of what really counts—doing good work that can help others. I’m not saying you can’t do that in a network spot, but I can do it a lot more easily with far fewer personal and ethical sacrifices at Tony’s station. And the icing on the cake is that it gives me you, too. Assuming, that is, that you—that you still want me,” she finished, her voice faltering.
He studied her in silence for a moment. Then, instead of responding, he rose and retrieved a small envelope from the counter. It was stamped and addressed to her, she noted, as he placed it in front of her. “I was going to mail this today. Open it.”
She hesitated, then did as he asked. With her heart pounding, she quickly scanned the single sheet of paper.
My dearest Amy,
Over the past few weeks, as I’ve settled into the life I always dreamed of, I’ve discovered one very important thing. Much as I love living in the mountains, my life feels incomplete. I know now that I can never be truly happy and content here without you by my side. Your love added so much joy and light to my days. Without you, I feel only half-alive.
I know that I hurt you deeply by not sharing my dreams with you. I was wrong to hold them back. Whatever the consequences, I should have told you from the beginning what was in my heart. I only hope you can find it in your own heart to forgive me.
I also know I hurt you by discounting your dreams. Again, I was wrong. You have every right—perhaps even an obligation—to fully develop and use your
exceptional talent. But I placed the burden on you to figure out how to do that here in the mountains.
You were right when you said that all the compromises in my original proposal would be on your side. And that’s not fair. So I have an idea that may allow us both to pursue our dreams. What if we divided our time between the city and the mountains? Could we find a way to make that work?
What it comes down to, Amy, is this. I love you. And I don’t want to spend the rest of my life without you. I’ll work with you to find a solution that is acceptable to both of us. Please…forgive me for hurting you, and say that you’ll try. Because I count your presence in my life among my greatest blessings, and I love you with all my heart.
As Amy finished the note, her throat grew tight. Cal did still love her! So much that he was willing to compromise his own dream to accommodate hers. He could have given her no greater gift, or demonstrated his love in no more credible or touching way.
“That offer is still open, Amy,” he said quietly.
She looked at him, the love shining in her eyes. “And I’ll treasure it always. But this is where I want to stay.”
Suddenly he took her hand in a warm clasp, then stood and pulled her to her feet. “Come with me,” he said huskily.
They retraced their steps through the house to the porch, which was now bathed in golden morning light. He could feel her trembling as he reached over to frame her delicate face with his powerful hands, his thumbs gently brushing her cheeks. He was none too steady himself as he gazed into her beautiful, deep green eyes, misty now, but filled with unmistakable love and tenderness. As his heart overflowed with joy, he suddenly knew that this would always stand apart in his memory as one of the shining, defining moments of his life. A moment he would look back on, in the twilight of their lives, as representative of the dawn of a new day for both of them.