He looked puzzled.“Hey … I didn’t know you were doing this.” He slid his fingers beneath the paper, and in a matter of seconds he could see what it was. “A scrapbook? Are you serious, Em?”
She’d been working on it every night, long after she would normally be in bed. Even her coach had noticed that she wasn’t as peppy as usual on the practice field. A few weeks before, she’d asked him for a copy of all their photos, the ones he’d been so careful to take ever since the summer began.
He burned the entire file onto a CD, and she’d made two sets of prints. One for herself, and one for him. Now every hour of effort felt more than worth the time. “Your mother told me you like scrapbooks.”
“You talked to my mother?” He ran his fingers over the red linen cover and the photo at the center, one someone had taken of the two of them after her championship soccer game.
“Yeah. That day we went there to walk Buster.” She giggled. “I’m good at secrets.”
“I guess.” He looked at her. “Actually, I’ve never made a scrapbook. I just take the pictures. I sent my mom a ton from my last tour in Iraq, and she put them into a book. Gave it to me that Christmas.” His smile faded. “It was the best gift she’s ever given me.”
“That’s what she said.”
“I can’t believe this …” He opened the book and looked through it, taking time to read the captions she’d written beneath each picture, to admire the time she’d put into decorating each page and creating a theme around each layout. There were pictures of their strolls along Puget Sound, and the one Bo had taken after their basketball game that first time at the teen center. Photos from walking Buster, and of them working side by side at the public information office.
Beneath those, she’d written: Smooth Talker, indeed.
Another photo showed where Vonda had slipped in behind them, and Emily had written, Vonda knew before either one of us. And Vonda’s never wrong.
There were pictures of them with their parents taken the weekend of her soccer tournament, and one of him with the teens at the center, and another of him playing cards at a table full of Veterans.
Justin, she’d written. You’ll always be my hero. But you’ll always be theirs too.
Slowly, page by page, he worked his way through the book. On the last page, was a picture of the two of them at the end of their hike that day in the foothills of the Cascade Mountains, east of Tacoma. One thing I ask of you, Justin Baker, she’d written beneath it. That whenever I fall, you’ll always be there to catch me.
When he finished, he looked at her, his eyes glistening. “I’ll keep it with me wherever I go.”
“Okay.” She’d created it on lightweight paper, careful to keep the size small enough that it would fit in his backpack. “Every time you look at it, just know that I’m thinking of you, praying for you.” She pointed to the last page and an envelope she’d taped there. “Inside is a letter. You can’t read it until you’re in Iraq.”
“How …” He swallowed hard, and a tear slipped onto his cheek. “How am I ever going to walk away from you at the end of the day?”
“I don’t know.” She pressed her palms to her eyes and tried to stop her own tears from forming. “If you figure it out, tell me, okay?”
They both laughed, and the sound lightened the moment. It was a beautiful day, and but for a six-month stint in Iraq, they had no reason to be sad. Justin wrapped the paper around his scrapbook and tucked it into his backpack. Then his eyes met hers. “My turn.”
She hadn’t given any thought to what he might be doing for her. She’d spent all her energy creating the scrapbook, putting it together and believing that somehow — another world away — it would bring him the strength and determination he needed to keep going, to keep being careful, and to come home again, safe and whole.
Now she wondered what he’d planned for her. She took hold of the bench on either side of her and watched while he lifted a small wrapped rectangular box from his backpack. “Start with this.”
“Justin …” She couldn’t still her racing heart and wondered if maybe she would faint from the mix of joy and impending sorrow. She opened the paper carefully and then lifted the velvet lid of the box beneath it. There, nestled on a piece of satin, was a white gold bracelet with a single heart charm at the center. Her breath caught and she had to work to make herself heard. “It’s … it’s beautiful.”
“Read it.” He pointed to the heart.
She took the bracelet from the box and held it close. On one side of the heart, in delicate engraving, it read, Justin and Emily. On the other side, it said only, Genesis 29.
The memory came back in a rush. The Bible verse he’d read to her the day he got news of his deployment date. He’d written it at the end of several notes since then, Genesis 29. She looked at the engraved words now and tried to see them through her tears.
“I meant what I said the first time I read that to you.” He leaned his head against hers, his voice so soft she could barely hear it over the sound of the cruise ship. “I might be going away for six months, Em, but I’ll work my tail off every hour, knowing that nightfall will bring me one day closer to coming home to you.”
She couldn’t speak. She was trembling, overwhelmed by feelings she’d never known before. She handed him the bracelet and held out her wrist so he could place it on her. When it was secure, she looked at it, admiring how it glistened against her tanned skin. “I’ll never take it off.”
“Good.” He sat up straighter and dug back into his backpack. This time the box was longer, but it was wrapped the same way. He handed it to her. “This one means even more.”
She removed the paper and opened it, and inside lay the most delicate white gold necklace, one that matched the bracelet, and at the center, another tiny heart.
He took it gently from her and fastened it around her neck. “It’s belonged to you for a long time now.” He hooked it and then adjusted it so the heart was in the middle. “But this way you know for sure.” His eyes found hers. “My heart belongs to you, Emily. It’ll belong to you forever.”
Joy and sorrow and longing and disbelief all mixed together and swirled inside her. Justin Baker’s heart belonged to her and her alone. She touched the tiny piece of jewelry and then brought her fingers to his face. “It’s perfect.”
“Like you.” He kissed her, and when he pulled away, his eyes danced. “Just one more thing.”
“Justin, you’re spoiling me.” His thoughtfulness was more than she’d ever imagined.
“I figure this is our Christmas.” He reached into the backpack once more and pulled out a bulky, round package. “Here. This one’s a little more practical.”
She laughed and felt the heart on her bracelet jingle as she opened this last gift. Inside was a Starbucks travel mug, one big enough for even a large drink. The outside was a collage of their pictures, the same ones she’d used for his scrapbook. He’d sized them onto a single piece of paper, some large, some small, and he’d printed it off and slipped it inside the plastic casing.
“I know how you like your coffee.” He gave her a quick kiss. “This way you can know that wherever you are when you’re drinking one, I’ll be over there in Iraq drinking something a whole lot more like mud than coffee. And wishing I was here with you instead.”
She studied the pictures, basking in the array of memories they represented. “I love it.”
“And I love you.” He worked his hand around her waist and slid closer to her, kissing her the way she longed to be kissed. Only a few seconds had passed when he pulled back and snapped his fingers. “I almost forgot.” He reached into his backpack one more time and pulled out an envelope. “I wrote this for you. But you can’t read it until I’m gone.”
She took the envelope and pressed it close to her heart. “This might mean more than all the other gifts put together.” She slipped it into her bag, next to the travel mug.
And then, suddenly, they had nothing left ahead of them but good-bye. He took her han
ds and searched her face. “How’s your dad?”
“Sad.”
“I’ll bet.” He looked out at the water. “And your mom?”
“Busy back at her job. They’re moving the whole Time magazine team to a building in Iraq.” She frowned. “Maybe you’ll see her there.”
It was a topic they’d already spent hours talking about. Her mother had called from the airport the day she was leaving for the Middle East. “Honey, I had to tell you before I left. I’m going back to Afghanistan, back to my job writing about the war.”
Emily couldn’t have been more shocked if her mother had said she was moving to the North Pole. “But … you and Dad … you’re getting married in December.”
“No, Emily. We’re not. Not this year, anyway.” Her mother had sighed, and Emily wasn’t sure, but it sounded like she was crying. “I need to see the war again for myself, be there and experience it. Write about it.” She made a little coughing sound. “Maybe I’ll find out that I’ve been wrong about our involvement over there. Or maybe …” She hesitated, her voice tight. “Maybe I’ll find out I’ve been wrong about thinking I could ever make things work with your dad.”
Emily had begged her to change her mind. “Mom, no. Go home and think it through. Remember your journal? All the things you felt for Dad, remember that? You can’t give up now. So what if you don’t agree with him?”
But it was too late. Her mother had made up her mind. The phone call was only her way of being courteous enough to tell Emily herself, rather than waiting for her father to tell her the news.
She’d called her dad the moment she hung up from her mother. By then she was crying, unable to grasp what had happened and at a loss to do anything about it. “Dad … tell me it isn’t true.”
He waited until she had control of herself, and then he told her that yes, it was true. “Your mother has a lot of searching to do, Emily. Maybe we both do. Pray for us. This isn’t what either of us really wants.”
Later she’d shared every detail with Justin, how frustrated she’d been and how helpless she’d felt. She peered out across the water. The subtle vibration of the cruise ship engine vibrated against her back. “Before, I always knew there was something I could do. Like it was up to me to find my parents and reunite them.” She looked at him. “But now … now this is their decision. Her decision. It doesn’t matter what I want, they have to work things out for themselves.”
Justin took her in his arms and stroked her back. “It’s something they need to figure out. Especially your mom.” He released her but kept his hand around her shoulders. “God has a plan for them, just like He has a plan for us. If that means the two of them should be together, then they’ll figure it out.” He kissed her. “I’ll pray for that, okay?”
A trio of seagulls swooped low along the side of the ship and then lifted out over the Sound. Emily watched them fly away, and she remembered something. She’d never shown Justin the pages from her mother’s journal, the way her parents had been so in love with each other. A week ago, she’d made copies of the writings and tucked them in her purse, intent on showing him. But she’d forgotten about them until now.
“Hey — ” she picked her purse up and dug around in one of the side pockets — “I almost forgot.”
“What?” His voice held a desperate knowing. They had only hours left, after all.
“My mother’s journal. I was going to show you, remember?” She pulled out the folded pages. “I only have to look at this to know they belong together.”
He leaned his shoulder into the side of the ship. “Read it.”
She smiled. This was something else she liked about being with Justin. The easy way they had together. She scanned down the page and found her favorite spot. “This was what she wrote their junior year of high school. Spring of 1985.” She hesitated, then with a steady voice, she began. “ ‘Shane and I talked about love. Real love. We both think it’s weird that our parents don’t understand how we feel about each other.’ ” She smiled at Justin.
“Parents never change.”
“Nope.” She found her spot and kept reading. “ ‘They act like we’re a couple of kids who have no clue what love is. But here’s what I’ve learned when I’m with Shane.’ ” She bit the inside of her lip, staving off the surge of emotions in her heart. “ ‘Real love waits in the snow on your front porch so you can walk to school together in the fifth grade. It brings you a chocolate bar when you fall and finish last in the seventh grade Olympics.
“ ‘Real love whispers something in the middle of algebra about your pink fingernail polish so that you don’t forget how to smile when you’re doing math, and it saves a seat for you in the lunchroom every Friday through high school. Even when the other baseball players think you’re stupid.’ ” Emily laughed and caught Justin’s eyes.
“Your mom was quite the writer, even back then.”
“Yes.” She ignored the tear rolling down her right cheek. “ ‘Real love has time to listen to your hopes and dreams when your parents are too busy with the PTA or the auxiliary club or the business they run at the local bank.
“ ‘Real love stays up late on a Saturday making chocolate chip cookies together, flicking flour at you and getting eggshells in the batter and making sure you’ll remember that night the rest of your life. And real love thinks you’re pretty even when your hair is pulled back in a ponytail and you don’t stand perfectly straight.’ ” Emily’s voice cracked and she had to stop for a moment. When she regained her composure, she finished. “ ‘Real love is what I have with Shane. I just wanted to say so.’ ”
“Hmmm.” Justin put his arm around her again. “That’s beautiful.”
“Exactly.” She dabbed at her tears, folded the note, and put it back in her purse. “Sometimes I wonder how long it’s been since my mom read her own words.”
“You could send that to her.” He stroked her shoulder. “Make a copy and mail it to her.”
“True.” She hadn’t thought of that. When she found her mother last winter, she gave her an entire box of her short stories and journals. But she doubted her mother had read through them, the way Emily had — line for line — when she wasn’t sure she’d ever even find her mother. She looked up at Justin. “I might do that. Maybe it would help.”
“Right.” He stood and moved to the railing. Then he held out his hand to her.
She took it and found her place beside him. “The water’s so dark.”
“It’s like that off Kelso too.” He lifted his chin, and the ocean breeze washed over his face. “Growing up, my dad used to take me fishing along the waterfront and he’d always tell me the same thing. ‘Don’t go out past your ankles, son. The water’s deep along the Northwest coast.’ ”
“I love how you and your parents are, how close you are.” They rested their elbows on the railing, and she noticed her new bracelet. She’d told him the truth. She wouldn’t take it off, not as long as he was away and she was praying for his return.
“I’ll miss them. And my sister.” He turned his head and looked at her. “But not like I’ll miss you.”
She didn’t want to talk about that yet. “Tell me about Kelso. What was it like growing up there?”
“Very different than Wheaton.” He grinned and turned his attention back to the water. “At least that’s my guess.”
“Wheaton was nice, but it’ll always be a suburb of Chicago. The big city feeling’s never very far away.”
“I used to long for a place like that.” He chuckled. “But by the time I was in high school, I began to appreciate what I had in my own little town. The fact that my teachers had students who were the kids of students they’d had twenty years before.” He was quiet for a moment. “There were parades and community picnics, and after spending a lifetime there, you couldn’t go to the grocery store without running into ten people you knew.”
“Really?” Emily liked the idea. “They probably gave you a big send-off when you enlisted.”
“They did. My family held my going-away party at the American Legion hall, and half the town showed up.” He looked like he was picturing the event. “Kelso’s a blue-collar town, really. Lots of folks in shipping and construction. And they fly the flag higher than any people I know.”
“I love that. How America’s working class is so patriotic. They’re the heartbeat of this country, for sure. The soul and strength.” The wind was making her cold. She moved closer to him, so their sides were touching. “You could see it at the last election, the way the heartland, the country’s backbone, was so supportive of family values and military strength.”
“Yep. My hometown’ll be supporting me this time, same as last. Tying yellow ribbons around trees and flying flags. That sort of thing.”
The captain came over the loudspeaker then and announced that they’d be returning to the pier in five minutes. Emily looked at Justin as the message ended. It was one more reminder that their time together was borrowed.
“Someday, I want to take you on a real cruise.” He turned so he was facing her. They were still alone on the deck, trying hard to be lost in the moment as if they had forever and not just five minutes. “We’ll go somewhere warm where the water is shallow and clear and pale blue green.”
“Sounds wonderful.” She faced him and slid her feet between his. “But this was wonderful too.” She gave him a shy smile. “Thank you. For everything.”
He slid his arms around her waist and held her tighter than before. “I wish I had another week. Even another day.”
Her hands came up along the back of his neck. “Not me. I want the six months to be over. The sooner the better.”
Fifty yards away, a small speedboat whizzed by, and a group of guys on board howled in their direction. “Hey!” one of them shouted. “Go for it, man!”
Justin grinned and nuzzled his nose against hers. “Yep.” He let out a soft moan. “I wish that too sometimes.”
She felt her face grow hot. She understood what he meant, what the guys on the speedboat meant. The feelings she had for him took her places she knew better than to hang around. “Someday.”
Ever After Page 13