Mountains Between Us

by Jenny Proctor

  Eliza’s face lit up. “That’s wonderful! I’m so glad to hear it. What finally worked?”

  “I took a risk,” he said. “Reached out in a different way. I think it’s going to work.”

  “I’d love to hear all about it. Can I come find you after dinner?”

  “Sure. Hey, have you heard anything about Gina?”

  Eliza frowned. “I just talked to my mom this morning. She hasn’t seen her or heard from her yet.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it.” He watched as Eliza glanced back at Flip, still sitting on the bench behind her. Following her gaze, Henry noticed the book Flip was holding in his hands. It was the Book of Mormon he’d given her a couple of weeks before. “How’s that going?”

  “It’s good, I guess. He says he read a lot of it while he was gone. He has a lot of questions.”

  “Wow,” Henry said. “I mean, that’s really great.” He never would have expected it of Flip. He wanted to be genuinely happy that he was expressing interest in learning more about the Church, but after what Cooper had told him about Flip having a thing for Eliza, Henry couldn’t help but question Flip’s motives.

  Still, he could see the excitement in Eliza’s eyes. He didn’t have it in him to squelch it. “I’ll let you get back to him, then.” He turned and started down the main stairs of the admin building.

  “See you later?” Eliza called.

  He nodded his head and waved, then turned the corner to head to his apartment.

  Henry considered himself a pretty good missionary. He’d served well in Brazil, broken through a lot of his initial discomfort and pushed through a lot of his own personal boundaries. And yet he’d known Flip a lot longer than Eliza had, and not once had he even considered the possibility of giving him a Book of Mormon.

  But, then, Flip had asked Eliza for the book. Henry was sure it didn’t have anything to do with the fact that she was a beautiful redhead with an engaging smile and incredible eyes.

  Right. Nothing at all.

  Henry realized what was bothering him wasn’t the possibility of Flip’s misplaced motives, though that was definitely cause for concern. What bothered him was the idea of Flip and Eliza having a relationship in the first place. He was annoyed to realize how much it made perfect sense. They were similar in personality, had the same energy and passion for life. Flip was everything Henry wasn’t.

  But Eliza had kissed him. In that moment, there had been something real between them, something . . .

  Something Henry had promptly told Eliza to forget ever happened.

  When he reached his apartment, he swung his door open with a little more force than necessary, and it banged against the wall before falling back into place with an angry thud. The sound still echoed in his ears when he collapsed onto his couch, frustrated and annoyed by his own thoughts.

  Of course Eliza would choose Flip. Henry had taken away her ability to choose him.

  Chapter 14

  Eliza tried to focus on her conversation with Flip, but her heart was no longer in it. She had watched Henry leave the porch and head toward his apartment and wished she’d had the courage to follow him. She would love to hear the details of his success with Daniel and was touched that he’d been anxious to share it with her.

  But Flip had been waiting for her, and if she was truly honest with herself, she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to act around Henry anymore. They had talked about the kiss, and Henry had made it clear that it would be better if they forgot about it, but that didn’t mean they could simply go back to being friends. At least, Eliza knew she couldn’t.

  Every time she was around Henry, she felt herself drawn to him more and more. Trying to forget they had ever kissed was impossible when even just seeing him made her think about how much she wished they could kiss again. How was that a normal friendship?

  Still, if she wanted to hear about Daniel, she’d have to find Henry later, no matter how flustered it made her feel.

  “Eliza, are you in there?” Flip leaned forward and tried to make eye contact.

  Eliza realized he’d been talking, and she had no idea what he had said. “Sorry, I was just thinking about Henry.”

  “What’s up with Henry? He looked a bit serious.” Flip tightened his brows and frowned in lighthearted mockery.

  Eliza rolled her eyes and smiled. “Everything is fine. He’s just made a breakthrough with one of his students. I’m going to find him later so he can tell me about it.”

  “I guess sometimes the tough ones require a more concentrated team effort. I’m glad Henry’s making progress.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  Flip was quiet for a moment. “I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure Henry had what it took to make it at Rockbridge—all collars and ties and buttoned-up politeness. I worried the kids would look at him like nothing more than a stuffed shirt. But I guess he’s doing all right. Wonders never cease, do they?”

  “You don’t give him enough credit, Flip. There’s a lot more to Henry than you might think.”

  “I’m not saying he isn’t a nice guy, but it takes a special type to do well in a place like this. Some of these kids—they’re brutal, you know? You’ve got to be the kind of person they can relate to, that they want to relate to.”

  Flip was right. It was crucial to be able to develop relationships that were based on trust and mutual respect with the students at Rockbridge. It was something Flip was good at. All of the students liked him. He was firm, unrelenting when it came to expectation and performance, but he had enough “cool” factor that most kids wanted to follow his example and do as he asked. For Flip, Rockbridge was a perfect fit. But that didn’t mean Henry couldn’t also be successful.

  “Henry is exactly the kind of person the kids need to be around,” she countered. “He is steady and honest and generous to a fault. He’s . . .” She searched for the right word. “Henry is just good. The kids need to be around that too—to be around goodness.”

  Flip looked at Eliza quizzically. “You got a thing for Henry, do you?”

  She rolled her eyes for the second time in their conversation. “It’s not like that. I just think people around here are selling him short. You can almost feel everyone’s anticipation, wondering how long it’s going to take him to fail. Sure, this job may be a little outside his comfort zone, but he can do it. I know he can.”

  “Well, you don’t have to convince me.” Flip held his hands up, palms open in surrender. “I don’t write the guy’s paycheck.”

  Eliza took a deep breath and leaned back onto the outside wall of the admin building. “We just spent a long time talking about Henry,” she finally said.

  “I noticed,” Flip said. “He came right up on the porch and completely stole my thunder.”

  Eliza smiled. “Well, take it back, then, why don’t you?” She gestured to the Book of Mormon still sitting on Flip’s lap. “Do you have any more questions?”

  “I guess I just wonder what happens now. I like what I’ve read, but what does that mean, really?”

  Eliza considered her answer. “I guess that’s up to you. The next step would probably be to meet with the missionaries in Rose Creek. They can teach you more and answer your questions.”

  “Missionaries?” Flip said. “You mean white shirts and name tags and bicycle-riding missionaries?”

  Eliza laughed. “The very ones; I promise they’re completely harmless.”

  “What about you? Can you be there too?”

  The sudden shift in Flip’s tone made Eliza uncomfortable. She looked down, hesitant to make eye contact. “Of course I can. If you want me to be.”

  Flip reached for her hand. “What if I say I always like it when I get to be where you are?”

  No, no, no!

  Things could get muddled very quickly if she wasn’t careful. She pulled her hand from Flip’s grasp and stood.

  “Don’t make this confusing, Flip. This can’t be about me.” She turned and leaned across the porch railing directly acros
s from where he sat.

  “What, this?” He held up the Book of Mormon. “Of course it’s about you, Eliza. I told you I was interested in you. You told me it wouldn’t work if I wasn’t a Mormon. How am I supposed to separate one issue from the other? True, I wouldn’t just become a Mormon because a pretty girl wanted me to, but that doesn’t mean I’m not considering the possibility of learning more because of how I feel about you.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t say that. We’re friends. Let’s just be friends right now, okay? If we were anything else, all of this”—she motioned to the Book of Mormon—“it would just get too complicated.”

  “Why is it complicated?”

  “Because this church isn’t just something you do on Sunday. It’s everything—your entire life. You have to know that if I were never a part of it, if I married Henry or anybody else, you’d still want to go to church because it’s what you believe for you, just for you.”

  “If you married Henry, huh?”

  Eliza’s cheeks flamed red. “I was just making a point,” she said defensively. “He’s the only Mormon guy you know that I could use as an example.”

  Flip let out a slow, genial laugh. “I’m sure you were just making a point.” Eliza chided herself for making such a huge blunder. What sort of impression was she trying to give Flip? She chewed on the corner of her lip and kept her gaze down. At this point, she felt like a follow-up comment would only get her into more trouble.

  “Look”—Flip stood and leaned on the railing beside her—“I understand what you’re saying, but remember I’m a grown man. Yes, I like you, and it was your introduction to the Book of Mormon that urged me to give it a read in the first place. But I’m not a twitterpated teenager that’s going to rush into a life-altering decision because I can’t resist the green of your eyes. If I were to join your church, it would be for the right reasons. I promise.”

  Eliza tried to relax. Maybe she wasn’t giving him enough credit.

  “So,” Flip continued. “You’ll come with me if I meet your missionaries?”

  “Yes, I will. But just . . .”

  “Just as friends,” Flip finished for her. “I get it, I get it.”

  * * *

  After dinner, Eliza found Henry sitting on the steps of his apartment, reading a book.

  “What are you reading?” she asked.

  “Peace Like a River by Leif Enger.” He held up the book so she could see the cover.

  She lowered herself to the stair below him. “Is it any good?”

  “It’s very good, but I’m having a hard time focusing.” He motioned to his laptop sitting beside him on the porch. “I was trying to write, but . . . I don’t know. I’m three chapters in, and I’m not sure I even like my main character enough to keep going. I’m tempted to just trash the entire thing and start over.”

  “Would you like a second opinion? I promise I’ll be honest and tell you right out if you’ve written something that deserves the trash bin.” She gave him a hopeful smile, even though she knew full well there was no way Henry would ever accept her offer.

  “Hmm. Maybe next time.”

  “You know, you’ll have to let someone read your stuff eventually, Henry. Why not now? With a trusted friend?” She hoped he could tell she was teasing him, though she’d read his book in a second if he’d let her.

  “Someday I’ll let you read it. I’ll send you a copy of my manuscript via e-mail and make you promise you won’t utter a word about it in person ever again. You can only send me your opinion via instant message. Smiley faces for good or frowns for bad.”

  “Henry Jacobson, I had no idea you were funny.”

  He smiled. “Besides, oh, you who thinks I have no courage, I did let someone read my book.”

  “What?” Eliza exclaimed. “Who?”

  “Daniel read it. He read it, and he liked it.”

  Understanding flooded Eliza’s mind as she realized what Henry must have done.

  “So he is a writer! Oh, Henry, I’m so glad you were able to reach him. Tell me all about it.”

  She sat and listened as Henry outlined his impulsive decision to leave his manuscript for Daniel to read and then the subsequent conversation they’d had because of it. She could tell he was genuinely happy to have made progress and was looking forward to working with Daniel on a personal level. In a way, it seemed like it had been a breakthrough for them both. For Daniel, opening up to Henry was huge, but for Henry to share something he’d never shared with anyone before? That was pretty huge too.

  “I’m really happy for you,” Eliza said when he’d finished his explanation. “I think you’ll be exactly what Daniel needs.”

  “It felt good,” he said. “I could tell he really heard me, that the words actually sank in. It was like he was a different kid. He’s always been so closed off in the past, but today he looked me in the eye. We actually . . . talked.”

  Eliza smiled. “Ah, the impenetrable wall that is a teenager. Sometimes you just have to find the one thing that will make them open up a little. And you have to open up a little too. I’m sure it wasn’t easy, what with that iron grip you keep around everything you ever write.” She playfully nudged his knee and smiled.

  “No, it wasn’t easy,” he agreed. “But I had a feeling it would be worth it. It wasn’t exactly my idea.” His words had a certain humility about them, and Eliza immediately understood his meaning.

  “God knows Daniel better than anyone, that’s for sure. Good on you for listening.”

  “It took me long enough,” Henry said. “You know what finally convinced me to just get over myself and take the risk?” He didn’t wait for her to respond. “It was you.”

  Eliza turned to face him and shook her head. “I just gave you a little push. You’re the one who decided what to do.”

  “No, it wasn’t just your advice. You were right when you told me I might need to get out of my comfort zone, but it was . . .” He kept his eyes down and was fidgeting with his book, turning it over, running his fingers up and down the spine. “I tend to like my comfort zone just the way it is, but you, it’s like you’re comfortable everywhere, talking to everyone. I just decided maybe I needed to be a little more like you.”

  Eliza thought to reach out to him, to touch his hand or his arm, create some sort of physical connection, but she held herself back. He told her it wasn’t what he wanted—she wasn’t what he wanted. Instead, she held her hands in her lap and leaned her head against the porch rail beside her.

  “Thank you,” she said simply. She finally looked up. He was looking at her, a deep intensity in his eyes that completely disagreed with the sentiments he’d expressed about their kiss. She returned his gaze, a question in her eyes.

  What are you thinking, Henry?

  “I, uh, I should . . .” He closed his eyes and she watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed. “I think I’m going to get back to my writing.”

  Eliza sighed. Of course you are.

  “Sure.” She stood from the steps, feeling completely deflated. “Good night, Henry.”

  * * *

  Eliza covered the short distance to her own apartment and went inside. She slumped onto her sofa and crossed her arms over her chest. She needed to call her mother but wasn’t in the mood. For her mom, she had to be happy. She had to keep herself together, never have a bad day.

  It was silly, really. Her mother knew Eliza was human. But with all of Gina’s struggles, Eliza had somehow adopted the role of the easy one—the independent, reliable one who never gave cause for concern. She didn’t want to worry her mom simply because she was in an off mood.

  But why am I in an off mood?

  There was something under the surface that was keeping her from settling down. It wasn’t work. Her counseling sessions were going well, and her work relationships were getting stronger with both the Adlers and her fellow counselors.

  She fit at Rockbridge. She had no doubt about that. No, Eliza didn’t feel off because
work wasn’t going well. She felt off because no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t figure out how to keep herself from falling in love with Henry.

  Chapter 15

  Henry turned on his living room light and set his laptop and book down on the desk. He was too distracted to write, even though he told Eliza that was what he planned to do. He couldn’t stop thinking about her eyes. They looked like they held an invitation, a beckoning. And for whatever misguided reason, Henry felt like the invitation was for him.

  Or maybe he was crazy—imagining things, seeing things, pretending things actually mattered, when, even if he was reading Eliza right, things couldn’t work out between them anyway.

  He pushed his thoughts aside and pulled Daniel’s handwritten chapters out of his bag. Much to Henry’s surprise, the writing was good enough that he immediately forgot his own struggles.

  The story was a bit disjointed and rough in a few spots, but overall, Daniel had a natural storytelling ability. His narrative was compelling, his characters unique. Henry pulled out a sheet of paper to make a few notes.

  In an hour’s time, he’d worked through all four chapters, notating what he liked and making a few suggestions he hoped would be helpful. In the morning, he would sit down to write out Daniel’s curriculum.

  One of the things that made Rockbridge so wonderful was that it accommodated so many different learning styles. But this was the first time Henry had thrown aside existing lesson plans and started completely from scratch. It would take time and effort to come up with something he felt would work for Daniel, but his writing was far above grade level. He was the kind of student who would benefit from specialized curriculum. Henry couldn’t help but wonder what Daniel’s life before Rockbridge had been. No two students at Rockbridge ever came to the school with the same story. Many came from families that were well off—easily able to handle the tuition for a dually therapeutic and educational experience. Still other families, desperate for help for their teenager, did the best they could to cover expenses.