Davis stood at the window of the hotel room and looked out at the Olympic Stadium in the distance. In his pants pocket, he felt the smooth, heart-shaped stone that he’d found on his first date with Cora. His father sat in the chair next to him and looked up at him.
“What happened?”
Davis tightened his lips and fisted his hands in his pants, closing the stone into one of his fists. “Stan had a problem with me from the beginning. He checked me on the ice pretty good, and when I didn’t let that bother me, he singled me out off the ice. Then he got cut right away. He filed a grievance, claiming the only reason they kept me was because I am Korean.”
Grant nodded and blew on the surface of his coffee, cooling the rich liquid. “Well, life is politics son, you know that. I can see why someone might think that if you couldn’t play. But, did he ever see you play?”
“Since we were both center forwards, we usually played against each other. My team usually won.” He rubbed his cheek absently. “He did black my eye once. Ended up with a penalty another time.”
“We know there was a history. The news has uncovered that much. My question to you is still, what happened with you?”
Davis turned and looked at his dad. He had a strong face, with a square jaw, serious gray eyes, and lines in the corners of his eyes that became obvious when he laughed or squinted into the sun. He normally had his hair cut in a high and tight and kept a smooth shaved face. However, while on vacation, it didn’t look like he’d shaved at all. He had a month’s worth of beard and the hair on the side of his head had started to grow in. Davis didn’t think he’d realized how much gray hair his father had until now.
Grant Elliot spent a career in the military, serving his country in Special Forces units. Davis knew he had originally planned to retire last year and move back to Michigan full-time, but had made the promotion list for Colonel. Davis had joined his mother, Song, on the stage of the chapel in Fort Benning, Georgia for the promotion ceremony. They had jointly removed the silver clover leaves from his shoulders and replaced them with silver eagles. Davis had spent his life in awe of his father, respecting him as a man and for the ideals and beliefs he’d instilled in his son from a young age.
“He said some really terrible racist things about me in social media. By the time I saw him, I had already built up enough anger that it didn’t take much to light the fuse. When he punched me and knocked me into Cora and the coffee spilled all over her, I intentionally let go of my control.” He looked at the tips of his tennis shoes and sighed. “It was like I was holding a rope that I was straining against, and I just released my hands and held them up and watched the rope snap away.”
Grant took a sip of his coffee and nodded. “I’ve done that.”
Davis raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“Son, you inherited way more than just my razor-sharp mind and devastating good looks.” He set his cup on the table beside him and touched his fingertips together, forming a tent. “Your temper, your red haze of anger, that comes from me. It’s something I’ve struggled with my entire life, and something I’ve learned to control. However, I will honestly admit that there have been times when I’ve let go of that control, and I’ve done it intentionally. I made that choice.”
“Dad?”
“Davis, listen son. He provoked you and you controlled it. He had an awful lot to say to just anyone who would listen that would have provoked absolutely anybody. But you controlled it. He punched you and you controlled it. It was when he put someone else in danger, Cora, that you made the choice to let it out. I have to say, if I were in your shoes and that was your mom, I probably would have done the same thing. Except I might have killed him right out of the gate. Can’t be sure.”
Davis sat down in the chair across from him. He leaned forward, eager for his answer. “How do you reconcile that with a walk with Christ?”
Grant took a deep breath and slowly released it. “God created me to be a warrior, son. You don’t think that I needed some of that to do what I’ve done? You know all those conversations we never had and never will about stuff I did in places with names that end in Stan? The difference is that I have never, ever, let it out into my personal life. I would lay myself down on the ground and die, first. You, your mom, that part of me has nothing to do with you. Unless I needed to protect you physically, you have no reason to ever even know it exists.” He stared at Davis with serious eyes. “Let me ask you something. What are you afraid of?”
Davis closed his eyes and bowed his head, formulating his answer. “I’m afraid that one day I won’t be able to control it.”
“And yet, the Holy Spirit endows us with the power to control it, does He not?”
His heart clenched. “Peace, patience….”
Grant waited then nodded. “Self-control. Don’t forget that.” He cleared his throat and reached for his worn and read Bible that sat next to his coffee cup. “Listen to me, son. The Bible says that the fruit of the Holy Spirit is love, joy peace, patience, faithfulness, goodness, gentleness, and self-control.” He turned to Galatians and handed the Bible to Davis. He looked at the highlighted passage. “What do you think stands out to me about that?”
Clearing his mind and heart, he simply read the passage. He saw the verb circled. “Is.”
Grant nodded and tapped the open Bible. “Is. Not the fruits of the Spirit are, but the fruit─singular—of the Spirit is.” He took the Bible and closed it and set it back on the table. “You have it all, son. It’s not a buffet where you can pick and choose. It’s a loaded plate coming directly from the kitchen. Despite what’s inside of you trying to get out, you have the power to focus it on the ice with your stick and leave it there. You can harness it. The times you choose to let it go and let it harness you, those times are on you. Make sure they’re worthy and worth it. This time, I agree with the police, the witnesses, the coaches, and most of the world that keeps commenting on the videos of the fight. You did the right thing.”
“I could have stopped hitting him sooner.”
“Chalk that one up to practice, then. Remember that if it ever happens again.”
Davis sat back against the chair and put his hands over his eyes. “I don’t know how to explain all of that to Cora.”
“Who says you need to? You love her.” At Davis’ surprised look, Grant slapped him on his knee and stood up to carry his cup to the little kitchenette. “That’s obvious. Sounds like what you need to do is let her love you back the way God designed her to. You think your mother and I haven’t had some serious obstacles in our marriage? Shoot, we both had to learn two complex languages just to get to the point where we could understand the vows each other spoke. If your Cora feels for you the kind of love your mother has for me, you will be well.” After setting the cup in the sink, he walked back to his seat. “You just have to let her love you. And know that you are free to love her with all the love inside you.”
CHAPTER 11
The throng made up of thousands of people who packed the PyeongChang Olympic Stadium filled the air around them like smoke. The sound of that much humanity vibrated through Cora’s ribcage. She felt the energy and excitement as nations from all around the world came together to compete in these winter games. She remembered the same kind of energy swept through her at Rio eighteen months ago. But then, she’d had a nervous about-to-compete kind of energy that stalled a little bit of the excitement. Tonight, the only thing adding a dampening agent to her thrill of being here was Davis’ insistence that she shouldn’t love him.
A wave of applause rang through the stadium as the ceremony began. Cora sat next to Song Elliott, Davis’ mother. His father, Grant, sat on the other side of her. Because of Davis’ overwhelmingly Korean features, she hadn’t expected to see so much of his father in him. But the shape of his body, his height, the cut of his jaw ─ surprisingly, she could see more of Davis in his father than his mother.
For the last two days, she had enjoyed these two amazing tour guid
es. She had explored a good portion of Seoul with them, eaten some really amazing meals, and loved every minute of getting to know them. They knew that VelTech had generated the romance, just as they knew that it had become real. They did not know that Davis insisted they couldn’t be together. Cora had no intention of telling them that. As far as she was concerned, he could just forget that train of thought.
When, as always, the parade of athletes began with the country of Greece, Song patted her arm in excitement and they talked about the outfits and flags. The yelling and applauding never wavered as country after country marched out. Each nation marched out in the alphabetical order of the host nation. When they saw the Mongolian flag, Song yelled, “Davis next!”
She had her phone out and started a live video feed. She smiled and waved at the selfie mode, not trying to compete with the noise around them. Song leaned in and gave a thumb’s up and Cora mouthed the word “Mom”, then changed the camera mode so that the lens focused on the parade of U.S. athletes. She hit a little button so that those watching could still see her face in a little stamp at the bottom. Song and Grant cheered along with tens of thousands of spectators while Cora searched the group for Davis. When she found him, a huge flood of emotion washed over her, causing tears to come to her eyes, despite the ridiculously large grin that covered her face.
She zoomed in a little bit, then adjusted her phone camera to follow the team's progress while she let their followers experience her perspective right along with her. He held his phone up, obviously filming, too, and at one point, turned as if to film her. When all she could see was the speck of the back of his head, she turned it back to selfie mode and waved goodbye to the video.
Hours later, in her hotel suite, she poured boiling water into the teapot and ran her finger over the butterfly on the handle. Her mother had slipped it into her bags when she wasn’t watching, and the presence of her favorite teapot had brought tears to her exhausted, jet-lagged eyes. Shaking her head to clear the emotions, she picked up the tray and carried it into the living room.
“I’m afraid there’s only white sugar here,” she said to Song, setting the tray on the coffee table in front of the couch. “But, I did manage to find milk.”
“Sugar is okay,” she said in her heavily accented English, “I will just use some.”
Cora watched as Song sprinkled sugar into a cup and added a little bit of milk, then filled the cup with hot tea. She handed it to her husband almost ceremonially, slightly bowing her head as he took the cup from her. Cora felt a flood of emotion and longing at the love in Grant’s eyes as he took the tea. He could have very easily poured his own tea. Song respected him by pouring it for him, and Grant respected Song by letting her. This wasn’t a show for Cora’s benefit. This was a mark of the mutual love and respect that they held for each other every day.
She remembered the conversation she’d had with Davis about opening her door and holding out her chair. Suddenly, she understood what he meant. Suddenly, she longed to be back in his presence so she could step aside and give him the opportunity to respect her by opening her door. She couldn’t imagine missing him more than she missed him right now.
Determined not to burst into tears, knowing jet lag and exhaustion had much to do with her extreme emotions, she cleared her throat and smiled. “It’s mid-morning at home,” Cora said, pouring herself tea after Song and Grant had theirs. “I can’t believe how hard the jet lag is affecting my sleep.”
Grant nodded. “It’s one of the reasons Davis has been here for so long. It allowed them the opportunity to acclimate before the games began.”
“I had it easy.” She grinned, touching the necklace Davis gave her at Christmas, running her fingertip over the volleyball. “I only had a three-hour difference.”
“Korea is far away.” Song set her teacup on the table and settled back against the cushions. “Will be harder going home. That is when it hurts me.”
“I’m the opposite,” Grant said, slipping an arm over her shoulders. “She suffers going, and I suffer coming. Basically, whenever we bring her home, one of us is miserable two weeks out of four.”
“Worth it,” Song said with a smile.
“Yes.”
The knock on the suite door surprised Cora. At two in the morning, she couldn’t imagine who would visit or why. She allowed Grant to take the lead in opening the door and leaned back in her chair to see the small hallway when she heard Grant’s surprised exclamation.
“Davis!” she said when the two men came into sight. She set her cup down as she stood. “What a surprise!” He paused at the doorway and slipped off his shoes, putting them on the mat next to hers and his parents’.
He straightened back up then came into the room and walked directly to her, pulling her into his arms and squeezing her tight. She just closed her eyes and held on, relishing the feel of him, the smell of him. He hadn’t hugged her since Christmas morning. When he relinquished the hug, she stepped back and tugged at the hem of her skirt.
“I couldn’t sleep. I was hoping I could talk with you.”
“We go,” Song said, standing. She walked over to Davis and hugged him, sharply slapping his back with her open palm. “You stay.”
Cora hugged first Grant, then Song, and walked them to the door. When she came back to the room, Davis stood at the window. From the high floor of the hotel, they could see the lights of the bridge that spanned the river.
“I was able to find you in the crowd tonight. What a difference, experiencing the ceremonies from the stands and from the floor.”
“I saw you.” He patted his pocket and she could see the outline of his phone. “I was able to zoom in enough to tell it was you.”
“I didn’t know! Oh. Do you want some tea?” She imagined pouring him a cup of tea just as his mother had for his father. What would that be like for him? What would it be like for her? Was this jet lag or were these her actual thoughts?
“Oh. Ah, no. I don’t think so, thanks.”
She picked up her teacup and sat back down in the chair, bringing her legs up. “How have you been?”
He sighed, rolling his head on his shoulders. “Exhausted. No matter how hard I work, I have a hard time sleeping.”
Cora raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Something nagging at you? Like a big game coming up or something?”
“Not really worried about that. We’re ready.”
He didn’t say anything for a long time. She could see him mulling over what to say in his mind but not actually saying anything. She said, “Well, I finally got you to come to my hotel room again. Granted, your parents were here to chaperone, but they just left, so….”
He snorted a partial laugh and paced to the couch. He sat, but just on the edge of the cushion as if prepared to jump up at any time. “I was wrong.”
“I know.” How did she feel so calm when she knew that her entire future hung in the balance with this conversation?
With her simple agreement, his eyes widened, and he opened and shut his mouth. He clearly expected some sort of fight. “I, uh, I guess I’m glad you agree?”
“You were wrong. I know it. We belong together. I know that, too.” She set her cup down and shifted so that she sat forward in her chair, elbows on her knees. The only thing that separated them was the coffee table. “I trust you, I trust your control, and I’m sorry that Stan Denney brought you to a dark place.”
“It’s more than that, you know. It’s the idea that I shouldn’t have reacted, that I wanted to hurt him, and that I know how to control it but I didn’t.”
“Yes. Because he shoved you into me. I believe with all my heart that if I had not been standing right by you at that moment, holding coffee that spilled all over me in a very dramatic way, that you would have maintained your cool. And, like my dad said, if you are defending me, then there’s something to be said for that.”
“I appreciate your perspective on that. I don’t agree. I do know I should have held my temper, but the fact is that letting
it go was an almost conscious move. And in the future, I won’t allow myself that luxury again, regardless of the circumstances.”
Cora slipped out of the chair and walked around the table. She put her arm around his shoulders as she sat down. “The two times you lost your temper, you were defending the two women you love. I think you’re safe to be around, Davis.”
“You think I love you?” he asked, a half smile appearing on his lips.
“You can’t possibly deny it. You found me tonight in a crowd of 35,000. I think that says an awful lot.”
His eyes darkened as he said, “I do love you. I always have.” He turned and pulled her into his arms. Against her neck, he said, “I’ve missed you like mad.”
She rested her cheek on his hair. “I’ve been right here.”
“Cora,” Davis whispered urgently, “we need to go down to the lobby if we’re going to continue this conversation.”
“So old-fashioned,” she teased as she grabbed her room key.
Davis pulled the ring box and phone out of his locker. He carried them with his skates and stick as he walked with his team from the locker room to the bench. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose, breathing in the smell of the ice.
“Ready?” John, his friend and teammate, asked, holding out his hand.
Nervous butterflies tried to invade his calm exterior. Davis nodded and handed over his phone. His team piled in behind him as John started filming. Even an hour before the game began, a crowd had started to fill the stadium and he could feel the energy for this first game for the USA’s men’s hockey team.
Davis started, “It’s awesome and perfect that the first game for us is on Valentine’s Day.” He opened the box and revealed the diamond. “I feel like this is the perfect time to ask Jade to marry me.” He stared into the camera. “Jade Anderson, fellow Team USA and brilliant and beautiful woman, will you do me the absolute honor of making my heart whole and becoming my wife? Becoming one with me in the eyes of God Almighty as we worship Him together?”
Jade's Match, the Jewel Series Book 7 Page 12