Mike gently tries to steer his in-laws away from the disaster they are creating. “Mom, did you say we had some more gravy to go with the roast?”
Mrs. Nichols gets up and walks to the stove, but she doesn't take the not-so-subtle hint from Mike. As she returns to the table with the gravy boat, she takes over the conversation again and says, “Kate, you just have to understand how much work it's going to be to take care of Chase.”
Dr. Nichols turns on his wife and says, “You're not helping him at all by coddling him! Chase doesn't need someone to take care of him!”
Chase has long since finished eating and has been trying to cover the humiliation on his face. With his parents' last comments, he simply gets up and leaves the table.
Not quite sure what to do, I simply say, “Thank you, Mrs. Nichols. Dinner was wonderful. I'd like to excuse myself as well.” I don't wait for permission as I get up quickly to find Chase. I can hear very loud and agitated whispers behind me as I leave the dining room.
I find him sitting on the couch, where I had fallen asleep on his shoulder a few nights before. I sit down quietly and take his hand. I'm not sure there are any words that I can say, so I don't say anything.
A few minutes later, Mike comes in and says, “Chels and I would like to take you two out for a drink.”
“Well, I'm not quite old enough, but I'm happy to just order a soda,” I smile at the first sign of prudent behavior I've seen in the last 20 minutes.
Chelsea follows and quickly says, “How about dessert, then? Obviously, I can't have a drink, either; although I could really use one right about now.”
Chase and I climb in the back seat of the car. He wastes no time in putting his arm around me and tugging me into his shoulder. “So, you survived my parents,” he whispers.
“Just barely,” I admit. He laughs and pulls me even closer.
“I am so sorry. That was just so...wow...I'm so sorry.”
I close my eyes and feel my discomfort evaporate, enjoying the warmth and smell of the guy who has stolen my heart. My guy.
As we finish our gooey desserts and fancy coffees, Chelsea smiles at us and offers, “Mike and I figured everyone needed a stiff drink after that train wreck. But a sugar overload works, too.”
I find myself relaxing more, knowing that not everyone in Chase's family finds the idea of “us” to be absurd.
“You two are good together,” she says in all seriousness. “I can feel it.”
She turns to me, “Kate, I've never seen him so happy.” I blush as she continues, “I'm being completely honest. We all know it's been a tough few years, but Chase is so determined, so strong. I have no idea what on earth Mom and Dad are talking about.”
She turns to look her brother straight in the eye. “Chase, you will make a great husband and a great father. They're full of it!”
We all burst out laughing and I feel comfortable for the first time all night.
“Thanks, Chels,” Chase finally says. “But you might want to tone it down a bit. I don't think Kate is ready to marry me yet. We've only known each other a few weeks. You're going to scare her off.” He smiles and squeezes my hand.
We take Chelsea and Mike back to the cabin before Chase drives me home. He turns to look at me once we've parked in my driveway. “I am really so sorry, Kate. I had no idea any of that was going to happen. I guess it wasn't quite the right time to introduce you to my parents.”
“It's okay,” I sigh. “I just might not want to come back to your place for a while.” His face breaks into a wide grin and he pulls me in tight for a lingering kiss.
Chapter 7
I won't be able to see Chase much for a few days; I'm like a robot during finals week. I always throw myself completely into cramming for my finals. I brew huge pots of coffee each night and hole up in my room, studying until I can't stay awake any more. I sleep until it's time for an exam, go and take the test and then come back to my room to crash. After a few hours, I repeat the same cycle.
In the midst of my rigorous routine, I catch a few moments to think about Chase. How can I not think about him? I think about his gorgeous hair. The memory of his kisses comforts me between exams. I replay our many conversations in my mind.
However, I'm a little unsettled about what Chase said to his sister: “I don't think Kate is ready to marry me yet.”
Am I over-thinking this? He kissed me, but that doesn't mean he wants to marry me. Am I more serious than he is?
I've been telling myself all along that I can't be in love with him yet. His comment bothered me, and I can't figure out why. Sure, I know he likes me, but maybe I'm moving way too fast in my own heart. Was he saying that as a way to subtly tell me to slow down? I think back to my conversation with my dad. He told me to be careful, not to let my heart go too fast.
We've only known each other a few weeks, I think. What if Chase really isn't serious? I really do have to slow my heart down.
On Thursday, I sit on my bed, breathing a sigh of relief: My last final is over! The exam finished at 10:00 AM, and I'm sitting on my bed back in my pajamas. I'm seriously thinking about going back to bed until I have to get up tomorrow afternoon for my trolley shift.
I conclude that it will be best for me – and for everyone else around me – if I get some more sleep. Surviving on an average of three to four hours of shut-eye for the past several nights, I've become quite cranky.
I hear a knock on my door and I yell, “Come in!” I start to snuggle under my covers and figure that whoever needs to talk to me can do it through my comforter. They had better do it quickly or I will fall asleep on them.
My mom comes in and says, “Chase is here.”
I guess I can stay awake a little longer.
Just as I reach the bottom of the stairs, I realize that I'm in my pajamas and that I haven't washed my hair in far too long. I don't even remember the last time I brushed it. I've been conveniently keeping it out of my way with a ponytail holder or a small cap. And no makeup. I'm not sure if Chase has ever seen me in my full freckled glory. I hope he's not frightened off.
“Have you gotten any of my texts?” Chase asks. “I've sent like a hundred over the past three days.”
“Chase, I told you I had finals this week. I haven't had time to go out and do anything or hang out and talk or whatever. You may have finished your finals last week, but I haven't had time to do anything but study and sleep.” I realize that I sound far more annoyed that I intend to, but I'm just so tired.
“Kate, show me your phone....”
“It's in my room,” I grumpily reply and then plop myself down on the couch. I can't believe I'm talking to Chase this way, but I can't restrain myself. “You can go and get it if you want it. My room is the one on the very end.” I feel a little guilty that I've sent my boyfriend – with crutches – upstairs to get my phone. But not guilty enough to go get it myself.
Chase returns in no time and shows me my inbox.
Every single message is an encouragement from him:
Good luck, Katie!
You'll do great!
I believe in you
You rock
You've got this!
The list goes on and on and on. All from Chase. All to let me know he was thinking of me.
I am suddenly ashamed of my behavior. I look up at him and whisper, “I'm sorry.”
He sits down next to me. I let out a bizarre little laugh. “It's a good thing you're not really serious about me, right?” I ask and roll my eyes dramatically.
“What are you talking about?” Chase touches my chin and gently turns my face toward his beautiful brown eyes. How I've missed his eyes over the past few days. “Why would you think I'm not serious about you?”
I suddenly feel like a little kid and whimper, “You told your sister we weren't serious. I guess I was stupid enough to think maybe we were.” I bite my lip as the tears threaten.
“Well, if you remember, I said that maybe you weren't ready to marry me yet.” He
looks at me and continues with such sincerity that I can no longer doubt his words, “I've been serious about you since that first night I met you.” My heart leaps.
“Oh, yeah, you did say that, didn't you?” I laugh a little sheepishly. “Man, I'm such a mess when I don't get enough sleep. Sorry. I kind of made a big deal out of nothing. And I'm sorry I'm so grouchy. I'm just so fried from finals week.”
I frown and make a sad puppy dog face. “Forgive me.”
“Of course I forgive you.” Chase kisses me deeply.
After he pulls away, he cautiously says, “Katie...” When I give him a little encouraging smile, he continues, “Katie, you don't have to be sorry. I'm the one who's sorry if I haven't made it clear that I am falling for you.” My heart jolts as if it's been struck by lightning. “At first, I thought it was foolish to think I could love you after just a few weeks – after a few days, even – but I think we have something special, Katie. I'm not afraid to say it any more, because I'm pretty sure you feel the same way.”
I sigh and tell him, “Well, you must really like me if you're sitting here saying all this mushy stuff after the way I just acted. And when I look like this!”
“Katie,” he whispers. “You're beautiful. And I love you.”
The tears begin to fall freely – tears of happiness, tears of embarrassment, tears of fatigue – and he tugs me in as close to him as he possibly can. He kisses my ear, my neck, my hair, my forehead, my cheeks. He pulls back and wipes my tears away gently with his thumb.
I break into an uncontrollable grin and then kiss him hard on the lips. “I love you, too.” I watch his face as he hears the words from my mouth for the first time. He seems to light up from the inside.
“But now you know what you're getting yourself into. I'm a huge mess when I'm stressed out and don't get enough sleep,” I sigh.
More laughing follows. Then more kissing, until we hear an obvious, “Ahem,” from the doorway. My dad just caught us practically making out on the couch. I thought I couldn't be more embarrassed than having Chase see me in my pajamas.
Ever the gentleman, Chase gets up and makes his way to my dad. I hardly notice the crutches anymore. He swings them aside and extends his hand to my dad. “Nice to see you again, Ed.”
My dad gives me a little teasing smile because he knows I'm dying of embarrassment, but then he accepts Chase's handshake. He says, “I hope you can stay for lunch. It will give Kate a chance to get cleaned up.”
“Nice, Dad. Really subtle,” I laugh. I take the stairs two at a time as I prepare to take the fastest shower of my life.
“Katie? Are you still alive?” I hear Chase's voice over the sound of the blow dryer, so I switch it off and poke my head out of the bathroom door.
“What are you doing up here? What if I wasn't dressed yet?”
“Oh, sorry about that.” His face reddens slightly. “Your sister said you were blow-drying your hair and she told me to come up and find you.”
“Well, now you can witness, first-hand, the intense work that goes into making my hair presentable.” I turn the blow-dryer back on and proceed to comb through each section of my hair meticulously as the dryer offers some help in creating much-needed volume. Chase stares at me the entire time. I can't believe he isn't bored. It takes me a long time to get my hair just right.
Just before I'm ready to give it a spritz of spray, he scoots up behind me and moves my hair off the side of my neck. He plants a kiss just where my neck meets my shoulder. It feels like a little electric current runs through my body, radiating from that spot. I can feel his breath as he whispers, “have I told you that you're beautiful?”
“Yes, you've mentioned that,” I say. “Thank you.”
When Chase heads down the stairs ahead of me, I stand back to educate myself on how he does it. Two feet and two crutches seems like a recipe for disaster, but he makes it look effortless.
When he reaches the bottom of the stairs, he turns around and says, “What are you doing? Are you checking me out?” He shakes his backside at me, prompting a gigantic laugh.
I bound down the stairs behind him and admit, “No, I was just watching you use those. You're pretty agile for a...” my sentence trails off. “Are you disabled? I mean, is that the word I should use?” I feel a little stupid for asking such a naïve question.
“Yeah, I guess that's the technical term. I don't often think of myself that way, but I guess it's how you could describe me.”
“I don't know how you do it,” I marvel.
“Do what? Move around with these sticks attached to me all the time?”
“No,” I say. “How do you keep your attitude so positive? You went through something really life-changing, but I've never seen you feel sorry for yourself or get really angry about it.”
“That's because you didn't know me two or three years ago when I was still dealing with it. You know, when I was still grieving the loss of my old body. Of course, I told you that God helped me a lot, but I still went through the grieving process. I used to get so mad because I wanted to run. I told you that I was a runner, and the accident put an end to that pretty quickly. It wasn't as hard to let go of the other sports, but I still miss running.”
“Is that why you were surprised to see me running the other day?” I ask.
He nods and continues, “And self-pity? I think I spent at least a year feeling sorry for myself. But once I had worked really hard and mastered the use of the crutches, I figured, Okay, this is my baseline. I can start from here. I can do a lot more with crutches than I can with a wheelchair.”
“Scarlett's encouragement helped me a lot. I mean, you know she prayed for me, but God used her to draw me closer to Him. I've always been a pretty positive person in general, but God definitely helped me to get past the challenges in the past four years. He gave me perspective. I lost something, but I still have so much to be thankful for. So, I know this is how strong I am right now, but I can always get stronger. Maybe some day I won't need these at all.”
“You really are the strongest person I know,” I whisper in his ear and plant a kiss on his cheek.
Chapter 8
December is passing quickly. After saying I love you, Chase and I have been almost inseparable. We have started doing everything, planning everything together, as a couple. I can't believe how fast we realized that we were meant for each other. I'm certain that God had something to do with that. Maybe He is more like my dad after all.
We have ten days until Christmas; not nearly enough time to do everything we want to do together.
On an unusually slow day, we spend hours at Sue's Brews. It's my favorite thing to do, just to sit and discover more and more about the man I love.
There, I admitted it. It's not a question in my mind any more.
I love Chase Nichols and he loves me.
However, it may take some time to convince the other people in our life that our love is real after only a few weeks.
I ask Chase, “Does it bother you that I'm a runner?”
His confused look surprises me. It turns out he's not confused about my question, but about his own reaction. “I don't know,” he finally admits. “I mean, I love that you're a runner. But I assume you're wondering if it will bother me that we can't run together, or that I'll have to watch you do something I can no longer do.”
“Exactly,” I respond.
“I honestly don't know yet,” he admits quietly. After several moments in thought, he finally continues. It sounds as if he's changing the conversation, but his thought process must have brought him to this conclusion. “I think the only thing I can't let go of is my dad's resentment towards me. Our relationship has never been great, but since the accident, it's been almost non-existent.” He tells me this in a very matter-of-fact way, but I can imagine it feels much heavier than he's letting on.
What would it be like for my dad and I to have such a huge obstacle between us? Or my mom? Mom and I have our differences, but we don't exactly have a p
ermanent blockage in our relationship. In spite of his unemotional statement, I think I've hit a nerve with Chase. He doesn't say anything else about it, so I decide to take him at his word and leave it at that.
After coffee, we go Christmas shopping together, mainly so I can show Chase some of my favorite shops in our tiny downtown. I know he's been down here before, but there are a few places that are special to me. The area seems kind of magical at Christmas time.
We happen upon an antique store that I've only visited once or twice. Chase suggests we go in and look around because Oma is kind of a collector. He wants to find something to add to one of her antique displays. I wouldn't know an antique if it was staring me in the face. As we pass a jewelry display, however, I am captivated by a delicate Celtic knot necklace. I can't stop marveling at how fine the chain is and how dainty the tiny knots are. I tell Chase that I've always liked the Irish design because it's part of my family's heritage. The salesperson offers to take it out so that I can have a closer look. The price tag is staggering, so I simply say, “Um, no thanks.”
A few days later, we decide to try our hand at baking gingerbread cookies. I'm glad that Chase isn't high-maintenance, that he enjoys such simple things as hanging out in the kitchen with me.
We've been listening to a variety of music while cutting out the crazy little gingerbread shapes. We have enjoyed almost all of the selections, covering a wide range, including alternative, pop, hip-hop, and some popular Christian CD's that Chase had brought. We've also heard a smattering of Indie, retro, and yes, even some country.
Once the cookies are cool, we attempt to frost them. I guess my mom's baking skill hasn't rubbed off on me because we end up with tie-dyed, lopsided gingerbread men.
After washing the frosting from our hands, I tell Chase that there is one more song I want him to hear, but he doesn't seem thrilled when I pull out one of Fiona's new CD's. “Absolutely not,” he states. “I draw the line at One Direction.”
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