by Clare Revell
“And one for the Brits and their stiff upper lip.” She winked, and tried to look British, failing miserably.
He laughed, shaking his head. “We have to maintain our stiff upper lip image. It’s what we Brits are famous for. You guys have beaches and sunshine and barbies. We have our sense of humor that no one else gets and the rain. Did you know the Victorians even tried banning singing in church at one point?”
“Really?”
He reached for his glass. “Oh yeah. But that would make it boring, right? Can you imagine an eternity with no singing praises?” He paused. “I could no more stop singing than I could stop looking at you and seeing how beautiful you are.”
“I’m not—”
He reached across the table and took hold of her hand. “Yes, you are. Your eyes sparkle and you resonate with joy and love for God. And that makes you beautiful on the inside as well as the outside.”
She smiled. No one had ever called her that before and it had more than thrown her.
He held out his glass. “I want to propose a toast.”
Jo picked up her glass. “What are we drinking to?”
“An unexpected song,” he said. “One that sneaks up when you least expect it and resonates through you so much you can’t stop singing it.”
She held his gaze, knowing the song he was referring to. Was he thinking the same as her? “To an unexpected song.” She chinked her glass against his and drank.
He set his empty glass down, his eyes never leaving hers. “That was wonderful. Do you want dessert?”
“No, thank you. I couldn’t eat another thing.”
“Then let’s pay and go for that walk.”
****
The moon hung low and full in a jeweled sky. Glancing up, Jo marveled at its majesty and the fact that John walked under the same moon in his own country, even if the constellations were ones she’d never seen. Lights reflected off the bridge onto the still waters of the harbor as they walked. His hand was warm in hers, sending ripples straight through her. She didn’t think it possible to be happier and more content.
Well, there was one way. She had to know and she wasn’t one to hold back and not speak her mind. At the risk of sending him running for the hills or the nearest train station and then the airport, Jo took a deep breath and plunged headlong into unchartered waters. “John, could I ask you something?”
He turned towards her, the moonlight shining behind him, lighting up his whole profile. He really did look like an angel. “Sure.”
“If you lived in Sydney, would you date me again?”
“Absolutely.” The one word spoken with so much force and without thinking sent her heart soaring.
“Really?”
The moonlight and the halo of stars surrounded his head. John’s sincere fathomless blue eyes held her attention. “Absolutely I would date you again. And again. And again.”
Her heart somersaulted within the tight confines of her chest, before it settled into a repetitive rhythm of ‘it’s not fair.’ Before she could stop herself the words escaped her lips. “It’s so unfair.”
“What is?”
“I finally find someone who likes me, whom I like, too, and he lives twelve thousand miles away.”
John smiled wryly. “Typical huh?”
“Oh, yeah.”
He squeezed her hand. “I’m glad I met you. My only regret is not asking you out sooner.”
“Me too. But we had tonight.”
He smiled at her. “And memories.”
****
John carried his bag and case into the hall. He smiled at Jo, and wondered if she felt as sad as he did at the prospect of him leaving.
“Have you got everything?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“We can always send stuff on.” She looked at his bags. “Just hope that your case makes it this time.”
“I got all the important stuff in here.” John patted his hand luggage. “Including a change of clothes.”
“That’s good.”
An awkward, heavy silence no one wanted to break descended. Then Jo held out a hand. “Well, have a good flight.”
John took her hand, electrical current surging through him straight to his heart, lighting it up like the Christmas tree in the lounge. “Aren’t you coming to the airport?”
“No.”
The breath caught in his throat and his head reeled as if he’d been hit with a mallet. Surely he’d heard wrong? After last night he’d thought… “You’re…you’re not coming?”
“I’m going to church. I’m doing the coffee after the service.”
His heart sank. “Oh, the mission starts today, doesn’t it?”
She nodded. “Yeah. Anyway, I’d better go so I’m not late. It was really good to have met you.”
“And you.”
“Maybe we’ll meet again one day.” She let go of his hand, grabbed her handbag and hurried to the door.
John stood there dumbfounded, unable to take his eyes off her retreating figure. So that was it? Had he got the signals confused?
I thought she liked me, Lord. Just like I like her. Was I wrong?
Perhaps this had just been a vacation romance. Is that why Jo wasn’t going to see him off?
Or is it just she doesn’t want to say goodbye? He didn’t want to say goodbye to her. He’d far rather it be ‘til we meet again, not goodbye.
Pip came out of the kitchen, keys in hand. “Was that Jo?”
“Yeah, she just left for church.” He shoved his disappointment to one side and picked up his rucksack and case. “Shall we?”
The drive to the airport seemed to take years. When they arrived, Pippa stopped just outside the departure lounge, in the drop off bay. She pulled his bags from the boot. “Here you go.”
John shook her hand. “Thank you for having put me up the last few days. You guys were a real blessing.”
“You’re welcome. And it worked both ways.”
The smile on his lips belied the way his traitorous heart was breaking within him. “Thank Jo as well, for me.”
Not looking back, John picked up his bags and headed into the departure section. He walked slowly across the concourse and checked in. Despite the fact he had plenty of time, he headed straight through security. He sat by the gate, flicking through the photos he’d taken. A lump formed in his throat as he looked at the ones of Jo.
The boarding call came over the tannoy, and John slid his camera back into his hand luggage. He forced himself to take every step to the gate and handed over his boarding pass. Whatever else he may see on his trip, it couldn’t hold a torch to what he was leaving behind in Sydney.
The plane barreled down the runway, filling him with an overwhelming sense of loneliness and grief. Why put her here where I can do nothing about it? I like her, really like her, but we don’t stand a chance. Why give me a glimpse of something I can never have? To use her words, it’s not fair.
He closed his eyes as the plane ascended out over the harbor. He was leaving a piece of his heart behind.
****
Jo sat in church, her mind not on the service at all. The only thought filling her was of a certain Englishman who was, at this very moment, flying away from her.
Thank you God for sending John to us. Thank you that we changed his mind about Sydney. Give him a safe flight on to Ayres Rock and then home. I am so grat— She was lying to God. Even in her anger she knew that was pointless as He knew how she felt. She sniffed back tears. Why? You finally send a bloke my way who gives me a second look and then You take him away! Fix this. Please fix it.
A week later she was still mad with God.
Oh, she still read her Bible, went to church, and prayed, but her prayers were angry, self-centered ones. She picked up the mail, hoping there would be something from John there. Her heart leapt as she found a postcard from Auckland.
And then fell as she turned it over. The note was addressed to Pip and Jo. Pip and Jo? Am I an afterthought now?
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“Dear Pip and Jo. Having a great time in Auckland. Weather good, and lots of things to do. Dorrie would love the volcanoes. Thanks again for having me to stay at such short notice. I really enjoyed it. If you’re ever over my way and need a place to stay, let me know. Will probably be home by the time you get this. John.”
She took the card into the kitchen where Pip chatted on the phone. Pip glanced up and pointed to the coffee cup on the side. Jo gave her the card and picked up the cup.
She wandered across to the window until Pip finished talking and hung up. “Who was that?”
“That was John.”
“Oh. Didn’t he want to talk to me?”
Pip shook her head, reading the card. “No. He said he’d gotten home safely with his suitcase. Thanked us for having him. Spoke about his trip a little.”
“Oh, I see.” She put down the coffee and turned, heading from the room, anger spilling from her. Obviously I read way too much into the time spent with him and what he said about dating me. I was a holiday romance, an interlude, nothing more.
She flung herself onto her bed, her eyes burning with tears she refused to shed. Then she heard John’s voice echo in her mind.
“God knows what’s best for us, besides life would be boring if we got everything we asked for. We may well end up like spoilt children. Always whining and wanting more and throwing tantrums when we didn’t get it.”
“Very true. We’d all end up doing time out on the naughty step.”
With a thud she realized she was probably on God’s naughty step right now. She’d lost her temper with her Father, and like a parent ignores a toddler throwing a tantrum, He was probably giving her time out until she calmed down. Sliding off the bed, she dropped to her knees, and closed her eyes. Sorry.
5
A week later, Jo sat in the kitchen, chin propped on her hand, left leg tapping the base of the stool. She heard the door open and shut, but didn’t bother to turn around or glance up until the cup clinked on the worktop in front of her.
“Coffee.”
“Thanks.”
Pip eyed her thoughtfully. “Are you ever going to stop moping?”
“I’m not moping.”
“Yes, you are. You’ve got it bad, girl.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do. And that should be who I’m talking about.”
“Whom,” Jo corrected.
“Whatever. If the cap fits…”
Jo pushed a hand through her hair in irritation. She jumped from the stool. “And I don’t need a lecture on how foolish I was from you.”
“OK. If you’re not interested, then I guess you don’t want this.” She waved an envelope under Jo’s nose. “It’s from England, and it’s addressed to you.”
Jo reached for it. Pip jerked it away teasing her, and Jo squealed in protest. “Give it me.”
“Give it me? Where’s your grammar, woman?”
“In her house, probably knitting blankets. Now give me my letter.”
Pip finally relented and handed her the letter.
Jo retreated across the kitchen to the safety of the far corner and stood there. She carefully opened it and pulled out the postcard. Divided into four, it depicted an arch bridge over a river, a steepled church set in fields, several shops around a pedestrian area, and a park filled with flowers. She turned it over, eager to see what John had written.
‘Hi, Jo. The sun’s not shining, the sky’s not blue. I wish that I were there with you. They’re even forecasting snow, which’ll make the commute to work interesting as it’s over the Downs. Which are actually “Ups” as they’re hills. From, John.’
He’d included his home and e-mail addresses. A warm fuzzy feeling started in her toes and spread like wildfire through her entire body. “Oh, that’s so sweet.”
Pip read the card over her shoulder. “A poem?”
“You’re just jealous because Rob doesn’t write poetry for you.” She read it again. Her heart pounded and threatened to leap from her chest with the joy spreading through her. “He wrote me a poem.”
“It’s two lines.”
She jumped up and down on the spot, hugging the card to her chest. “It’s still a poem.”
“Squeeing doesn’t become you. Hey, where are you going?”
Jo glanced back as she ran to the door. “E-mailing him.”
“It’s the middle of the night there.”
“Don’t care. I’m going to e-mail him anyway. It’ll be in his inbox when he wakes.” She dashed to the computer, grateful for Pip’s insistence on leaving it on all the time. At least she didn’t have to wait for it to boot up. Bringing up a fresh e-mail she typed in John’s address.
“Dear John.” She shook her head, a fit of giggles erupting from her. “You can’t put that,” she chided herself. She deleted it and started over.
“Hi, John. Glad you’re home safe and your suitcase made it, too. Thank you for the postcard. It came today. I love the poem. No one has ever written me a poem before. The house is quiet without you around. Not that you were noisy, because you weren’t, but yeah—quiet. Anyway, I’m heading out to the Quay in a few. I have to buy Pip’s Christmas present since she’s leaving soon for the UK. I can’t imagine it being cold for Christmas. Kind of jealous she’s going to experience it firsthand. Anyway, better go.”
She paused. “Love, Jo. Much love, Jo. From, Jo. Yeah, from, Jo.” She typed the last sentence and hit send.
****
John yawned and glanced at the clock. Time for bed, but before he went, he’d check his e-mail. Just one sat in his box. From Jo Heyward. A huge smile crossed his face as he opened it. He’d hoped when he gave her his e-mail address she’d write. Intense happiness filled him, setting every nerve tingling. As he read, he could almost feel the blood rushing through his veins.
His fingers couldn’t type fast enough. “Hey, Jo. Just about to head to bed, once these photos finish uploading. It’s bitterly cold tonight, minus seven Centigrade right now. Or nineteen degrees Fahrenheit in old money, as we say here. There is some snow on the ground already, with more to come. Really feeling the difference in the weather after Australia. Sydney was definitely the highlight of the trip.”
He took a deep breath. “Actually meeting you was the highlight of the trip.” He couldn’t put that, no matter how much he wanted to and deleted the line. “It’s strange being back at work, kind of surreal almost. OK, the photos have finished uploading. I’ll attach a couple for you. I was wondering if I could ring you at some point. Just to say hi. I’m eleven hours behind, so not sure which time would work. Perhaps you could reply and let me know. I’d imagine the weekend is best. Though Saturday’s no good because I’m going to the football. Headley Cross are playing Whitgate United. It’s a sold out game, but I have a season ticket. Anyway, better go. John.”
He added two photos and hit send. Slowly, he scrolled through the photos he’d taken in Sydney. He looked at the one he’d taken in the restaurant the night he’d asked Jo out. The fairy lights lit her hair. His fingers ran over the screen. “My Aussie Christmas angel,” he whispered.
If only…
He hit print and waited. The larger photo could go in his Bible. That way he could pray for her a lot. The smaller one could go in his wallet. The e-mail chimed and he pulled it up. From Jo. That was fast.
“Dear John. Thanks so much for the photos. I’m printing them off as I type. So you have snow? It’s never really cold enough for frost here. Mind you, we call cold twenty degrees Celsius.”
John quickly converted that to sixty-eight degrees Fahrenheit and laughed. “That’s not cold.” He laughed harder as he realized he was reading it in a broad Australian accent.
“We get snow in the Snowy Mountains, hence their name, and a lot of people go skiing there. I prefer skating. Should have taken you to the indoor rink. Oh. I shouldn’t have started Dear John. I’m sorry. Jo. PS—I go to bed around eleven thirty, so any time befor
e that is good.”
John laughed and typed. “Dear Jo. I don’t know, two e-mails and I get a ‘Dear John’ already. Not sure if I should be insulted or find you funny. ;-) LOL. At least my name isn’t Jack, otherwise it’d be hi, Jack. (Hijack). I’ll ring when I get back from church on Sunday. Will Fed-ex you some snow soon as I can. It makes the commute into the country horrible. Better go before I fall asleep on the keyboard. That’s not a pretty look. Good night. John.
He logged off and headed up to bed, taking Jo’s photo with him.
****
Sunday took at least two years to come, never mind just twenty-four hours. John raced home from church, wanting to get there first, only to find he arrived at the same time everyone else did. He settled on the telephone table and dialed Jo’s number. He should buy his parents a cordless phone, rather than the corded one they’d had and then he could take it upstairs with him. She answered on the second ring. Had she been sitting by the phone?
“Hello.”
“Jo?”
“Yes. Hello, John.”
He pushed a hand through his hair. “How did you know it was me?”
“Your accent kind of gave it away. We don’t get many English blokes ringing in the middle of the night. How are you?”
“I’m OK. How are you?”
“I’m good. Is it nice to be back at work?”
Behind the closed kitchen door he could hear his parents talking. He smiled as he replied. “That depends whether I’m in a nice warm lab or up to my knees in a freezing cold river in a snowy field.”
“You still have to do that? In this weather?” Surprise filled her voice. He could almost see her brows shoot up into her hair and the way her eyes twinkled.
“Yeah. No samples means no work. And some mug has to go and collect them.”
“It doesn’t sound like much fun. Maybe you should change jobs.”
“I have no idea what I’d do instead. Well, in an ideal world I’d be a photographer, but that doesn’t pay the bills.” He took a deep breath wondering what to say next. He missed her smile and the way she tilted her head as she spoke. He hadn’t realized until just now how much. There was a pause for a few seconds then he started telling her about Auckland. As he spoke, he realized exactly what he’d left behind. He loved her. As crazy as that sounded, his heart was well and truly in Sydney. “But you should have been there. It would have been so much more fun with you there.”