What tortured Shelly the most as she sat in the now-tepid bathwater and let her tears cascade down her cheeks, was the shame she felt. She left home two days after that emotionally destructive night because there was an immediate opening at the flight school. She had started fresh in Los Angeles, as if Jonathan had never existed. The only thing that haunted her was her impulsive, aggressive kiss. Never would she have guessed she had that kind of fire inside her or the audacity to assault her best friend with such a misuse of her passion.
She had asked forgiveness from God a hundred times. She had never asked anything of Jonathan. They hadn’t spoken since.
The only communication she had had with Jonathan in the last five years was a letter he had written her that fall. The return address was Boulder, Colorado. Apparently Humboldt hadn’t worked out. She had read the letter only once, very quickly, then stuffed it back in the envelope and buried it in the bottom of her box of mismatched sheets of stationery. She had never taken it out again, and she had never written to him.
Shelly pulled herself from the tub and placed her dripping wet foot on the fluffy yellow bathroom rug. Drying off quickly and wrapping up in her robe, Shelly went down to the garage and scanned the stack of boxes until she found the one she was looking for. She carried it up to her bedroom. Sitting cross-legged on the rug where the filtered light streamed in, bringing a chorus line of tiny, dancing dust fairies, Shelly tore off the packing tape and opened the box marked “Desk Stuff.”
Chapter Seven
The old box of mismatched stationery was halfway down on the right side. Shelly pulled it out and dumped its contents onto the floor. The last bit of paper that fluttered out was the envelope from Jonathan.
Shelly slowly ran her finger across his name and return address. She remembered how nervous she had felt the day the letter arrived. She had had some friends over and hoped none of them noticed the way her face flushed when she brought in the mail and saw the letter from Jonathan. Excusing herself from her friends for a moment, Shelly had gone into her bedroom, closed the door, and with shaking fingers, opened the envelope.
Now, on this quiet Seattle afternoon, Shelly once again went through the motions of pulling the single sheet of crisp onion-skin paper from the envelope.
Dear Shelly,
Your parents tell me you are doing well and enjoying your new position with the airlines. I’m glad you’re getting to do what you always wanted to. This letter is only to wish you the best always.
I found this poem by Michael Drayton while doing research for my English lit. class. I had to send it to you. He wrote it more than four hundred years ago, but when I read it, I thought it could have been written four months ago.
Please know that I will always consider you my very best friend.
Jonathan
Shelly blinked back the tears and read the poem again that he had so carefully copied at the bottom of the page.
THE PARTING
Since there’s no help, come let us kiss and part—
Nay, I have done, you get no more of me,
And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart,
That thus so cleanly I myself can free.
Shake hands forever, cancel all our vows,
And when we meet at any time again,
Be it not seen in either of our brows
That we one jot of former love retain.
Now at the last gasp of Love’s latest breath,
When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies,
When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death,
And Innocence is closing up his eyes—
Now if thou wouldst; when all have given him over;
From death to life thou might’st him yet recover.
Shelly’s response to reading the poem this time was vastly different from what it had been that evening long ago in her California bedroom. That first time, she had taken great offense at the words. She imagined Jonathan was having the last dig by saying through the long-dead poet that he was done with her and glad it was over. She had read between the lines that if they should ever meet again, he would act as if there had never been any love between them. The deepest sting of his letter had come when he said he considered her his best friend.
That was the day Shelly cut her memories in half and stored them deep in the treasure chest of her heart. The love she had for Jonathan, the innocent, pure, and true first love, went on the bottom of the trunk. It was as if she had pressed it down as flat as she could and loaded the rest of the trunk with the carefree childhood memories of growing up with Jonathan, the memories that carried no remorse. Then, when it became painful to look even at those, Shelly closed the lid and tucked the treasure box far away from her everyday life.
Now she realized that everything had changed when she came home to Seattle less than a week ago. That first day in her room, all the light memories on top had floated out the minute she opened that invisible trunk. Now, only days later, she finally allowed herself to free the very bottom layer. And in her examination of those painful love remembrances came the urge to read the letter for the second time in five years.
From this reading came new understanding. “Now if thou wouldst; when all have given him over; From death to life thou might’st him yet recover,” she read again aloud.
Was he trying to say it still wasn’t too late? Folding the letter and letting it drop to her lap, Shelly looked up at the ceiling and whispered, “Is it possible, God? Was I too stubborn or too hurt to see this before?”
The silent, painted clouds didn’t answer.
“Is Meredith right? Have I pushed people away from me? Has my urge for independence blinded me to others?”
The possibility was too sharply painful for her. She repelled it. All that entered her heart was the clear and life-giving thought that perhaps somewhere Jonathan still waited for her.
It was a fanciful thought, she knew, one that she kept to herself during the next week and a half while she moved into the Tulip Cottage. Right after moving in, she flew two days and stayed over in Denver to sleep between flights. It seemed a subtle torture to be so near Boulder, where Jonathan had lived when he wrote the letter, but not to have the time to drive there. Not that she knew what she would do if she did go there. See the university Jonathan attended? Maybe. Or drive by the address from the letter and picture what window he had looked out of as he wrote to her.
There was always the slightest chance that Jonathan still lived in Boulder. On a whim, Shelly scanned the Denver phone book in her hotel room. No Jonathan Renfield was listed. She called information for Boulder. It had no Renfields listed. Jonathan could be anywhere. He could be in Seattle, for all she knew. The only way to track him down would be to find his parents in the Bahamas and give them a call.
Shelly thought about asking her mom if she had the Renfields’ address on her Christmas list. But Mom would want to know why Shelly asked. Mom wouldn’t come right out and quiz Shelly, but Shelly knew the looks and that those looks would torture her for many months.
Those same looks had tortured her the first time her parents visited her in Pasadena. Shelly had explained very little to them about why she had turned down Jonathan’s proposal. She said she didn’t feel ready to get married, and since she and Jonathan were so close, it had to be an all-or-nothing relationship. There wasn’t room for a casual friendship. Her parents seemed satisfied with her explanation.
If she brought up Jonathan now, they would definitely want more information. As much as her dad loved Jonathan, he would probably want to help her locate him and push them together again.
Shelly wasn’t ready for that. She wasn’t sure what she was ready for, but whatever it was, she had to think it through carefully. Jonathan could be married, for all she knew. Although she probably would have heard if he were. That kind of news always managed to get to her mom through the congregation.
While flying home from Denver, Shelly had a plane change and layover in San Francisco. She stoppe
d in a bookstore inside the airport and found a book that fed her current interest. It was entitled A Collection of England’s Best Poetry. The piece by Michael Drayton was on the first page.
It felt good to land at SeaTac and drive home to the little Tulip Cottage that Indian-summer evening. Shelly and Meredith had made quick work of the move in and had been glad to see how large each of the bedrooms was. They agreed that the third bedroom, located in the loft, should be Meredith’s office. Mom gave them the old patio furniture, which they painted a fresh white and set up on the front porch. Shelly had a unique dining-room table she had made herself from a stumplike slab of wood and a custom-cut circle of glass. Meredith gladly turned her old, pressed-wood table into a potting table, which they set up in the tiny mudroom off the back of the house.
As Shelly’s Firebird rumbled down the short, gravel drive that led to their enchanted cottage, she noticed her parents’ Buick parked out front. It was almost seven on a Thursday evening. Shelly thought maybe Dad had finally come over to help them figure out the electrical wiring in the living room. The ceiling fan insisted on twirling anytime a switch was flipped on—even the garbage-disposal switch.
Parking her car and pulling her small, black, wheeled bag from the trunk, Shelly entered the house with a cheerful smile.
“Anybody home?” she called out.
Both her parents and Meredith were seated at the table with a steaming bowl of pasta before them.
“You’re home!” Meredith said. “I thought you had a flight.”
“I did. Two of them. I’m back.”
“I never could keep track of your schedule,” Meredith said.
“You really should call,” Mom urged gently.
“Have a seat,” Dad said, getting up and offering Shelly his chair.
“That’s okay. I’ll grab a plate and set myself up over here by Mom. So, what are you guys up to?”
“We were eager to see your new place,” Mom said. “Meredith didn’t know your schedule, so we went ahead and made plans to come on a night that was free for us. We didn’t know when you would be home.”
“Well, here I am!” She sat down and helped herself to the pasta. Shelly had learned long ago the fine art of deflecting her mom’s gentle digs. “What do you think? Pretty cute place, isn’t it?”
“Wonderful,” Dad said.
“You’ve both done a fine job fixing it up,” Mom said. “Is it mostly Meredith’s furniture and things? You didn’t seem to bring very much back with you from Pasadena. Except this table.”
“It’s a combination of both of our things,” Meredith said. She reached over and grabbed Shelly by the wrist. “You’ll never guess what! I have some fantastic news.”
“Can’t be the job of your dreams; you already have that. Can’t be the house of my dreams because we both already have that. What’s left?” Shelly slipped out of her dark brown flight jacket and noticed her dad’s smile. He must already know the good news.
“I’m going to Frankfurt next month!”
“Germany?”
“Of course Germany. The publisher is sending me to the International Book Fair in Frankfurt to scout out new products. Isn’t that great?”
“Terrific!” She tried to sound delighted for her sister, but it was hard. Shelly was the one who had always dreamed of exploring the ends of the earth, and yet somehow that had never happened. Either she would get time off from work and have no one to go with her, or she would have a friend going some place fun, but Shelly couldn’t arrange her work schedule so she could go along.
“There’s more,” Meredith said.
Shelly wasn’t sure how much more good news she was up for tonight. “Remember Jana, my old roommate from my freshman year? She and her husband live in Heidelberg. They oversee some kind of youth mission there. I called her today, and she invited us to come early and stay a couple of days with them in Heidelberg.”
“Us?”
“Yes, us. You want to go, don’t you? I mean, isn’t that the advantage of working for an airline? You can fly free?”
“Well, almost free. When is this?”
“In two weeks. The book fair starts the first Wednesday in October so I thought we could leave on the Thursday before and have the weekend through Tuesday with Jana. She says Heidelberg is beautiful this time of year. There’s lots to do there, too.”
“You know,” Mom said, “you girls could rent a car and find the town my side of the family is from. I’ve never been there, but I understand it’s right outside of Heidelberg. I’ll have Mother write down the information for you.”
Shelly’s mind was spinning with all the details of how to pull this trip off in only two weeks. The last thing she was worried about was spending a day looking for her ancestor’s grave site.
“Do you have a passport?” Shelly asked Meredith.
“Yes, of course.”
“Then I guess we’re all set!” Shelly smiled broadly at her sister and then at her mom and dad. “This is going to be fun. It could be the biggest plus of being on the reserves list. Now I don’t have to find someone to trade hours with when I want to take vacation time.”
“Your mother and I are glad to see you two taking advantage of these opportunities when they come along. It sounds as if your new publishing company has already put a lot of faith in you, Meredith. We’re glad to see that,” Dad said.
“I think I’m going to like working for them very much. I fly back to Chicago for meetings four days next week. I’ll only be home a few days before we take off for Germany.” Meredith pushed her half-empty dinner plate away and leaned back. Her lilting laugh filled the room. “I still haven’t told you the most interesting thing I found out today.”
They waited.
“You’re not going to believe this. Especially you, Shelly.”
“What?” she asked impatiently.
Meredith drew them all in with her giggle and sweeping glance. Her eyes sparkled with her secret news. “I know where Jonathan Renfield is.”
Chapter Eight
Shelly swallowed hard, trying with all her might to hide the way her heart had just leapt into her throat. She didn’t dare speak lest her words or even her tone of voice give away her thoughts.
“Did he call you?” Mom asked.
“Where’s he living?” Dad asked.
“I haven’t heard from Gayle and Ted since two Christmases ago. I think they moved again. Is Jonathan with them in the Bahamas?”
“No,” Meredith said, cutting into her parents’ speculations. “He’s in Belgium.”
Shelly’s heart flew from her throat to her ears, where it pounded so loudly she was sure the others would turn to stare at her. Jonathan is in Belgium? How far is Belgium from Germany?
“Belgium!” Mom stated. “Whatever is he doing there? I thought he was going to become a forest ranger.”
“He’s a youth director with the mission that Jana and her husband oversee. When I called, she said she had been thinking of me because a few weeks ago they were visiting Jonathan in Belgium and it came up that he was originally from Seattle. She told him her old Bible-college roomie was from Seattle and did he happen to know the Graham family, and there you have it. Small world, huh?” Meredith’s eyes were on Shelly.
“A youth leader,” Dad repeated. “For a mission, no less. My hat goes off to him. It has to be a challenge working with teens in a different culture.”
“Actually,” Meredith said, “this organization works with American kids who are living on the military bases all over Europe. It’s a gigantic mission field since the teens are kind of stuck over there with their families. The mission has huge turnouts whenever they run a camp or a special event that combines all the groups from the military bases around Europe. Jonathan apparently runs the youth club for the teens on a military base in Belgium. He’s been there for more than a year.”
Shelly felt her pulse returning to her neck, where it must have made her veins throb noticeably. Jonathan has been in Belg
ium for more than a year working with high school students. I never would have guessed it.
Shelly’s parents went on to discuss Jonathan’s parents and what good neighbors they had been. Her parents mentioned how they were planning to visit Jonathan’s folks someday in the Bahamas. Maybe next spring would be a good time to do that.
“When you’re in Germany,” Dad said, “be sure to look up Jonathan. Even if it’s only by phone.” He looked directly at Shelly. “Okay? Promise me?”
She nodded.
“Tell him we would love to hear from him.”
“And tell him to give you his parents’ address. I don’t want to lose track of them,” Mom said.
Shelly nodded again.
“We may even, ah …” Meredith paused. “We may even get to ah … get in on an Octoberfest somewhere while we’re over there.”
“That could be interesting,” Dad said.
Shelly felt that everyone was waiting for her to say something. Their quick, sideways glances were painfully obvious.
“I’m looking forward to using some of my accumulated vacation time,” Shelly said, trying to keep her tone and words even. She had plunged her hands beneath the table to hide their trembling. The camouflage effort was wasted under the glass tabletop. She knew Meredith had noticed. Perhaps that’s what had prompted her sister to change her sentence to the topic of the Octoberfest and to move it off of Jonathan. Shelly appreciated that and told Meri so late that night, after their mom and dad had left.
The two sisters went for their nightly walk around the lake carrying flashlights and wearing matching white sweatshirts that Meredith had bought for them after their first trek around the lake in dark clothes. About twenty yards from the back of their cottage, where the trail wound under the cedar trees and led straight to the lake, Meredith began the discussion. “I hope you don’t mind my telling about Jonathan in front of Mom and Dad. It’s so amazing that his name would come up, especially after you and I had talked about him just a little while ago. I was going to say there’s a good chance we’ll see him, but I decided not to say that in front of Mom and Dad.”
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