With a sad smile, Agatha said, “If the man is the right man for you, you’d be surprised how long you can wait. But it won’t take John two years. He’s obviously crazy about you. He’ll work his way through this. Trust him. Give him a little time.”
But Lori didn’t see how he could ever forgive her. She’d seen the hurt, betrayed look in his eyes when he’d left.
She suspected it was similar to the hurt, betrayed look she’d given her father, and she’d never been able to forgive him.
She was going to free John from his obligation to her. It was the only gift she had left to give him.
~
An hour later, Lori’s heart pounded as she stood before John’s door.
A note seemed so impersonal, so she tried his cell phone number one more time. When she reached his voicemail again and heard his warm, deep voice, she fought back tears. This time, she left a message: “John, this is Lori. Charles came back early and I’m flying home today. I . . . I think it will be best for both of us to get on with our separate lives. I wish you happiness, John.”
Only after she hung up did she whisper, “I love you.”
Pain like barbed wire coiled within her, pricking her heart each time she moved. She pulled out the envelope she’d brought with her, the note she’d hoped she wouldn’t have to leave, the note that said pretty much what her voicemail had said.
Looking down, the sun glinted off the large diamond John had insisted be set into her engagement ring. With a sigh, she pulled the note out and added one more line: P.S. I’m giving you back the ring. It’s beautiful, but you gave it to the wrong woman.
Pausing, she looked at the ring—her last real link to John, to her hopes about their marriage, to her chance at true happiness. With a painful sigh, she slipped it from her finger, placed it in the envelope, licked and sealed it, and taped it to the inside of his screen door, down at the bottom so other people couldn’t see it.
“Good-bye, John Wayne Walker,” she whispered. “It was great while it lasted.”
Then she made the long walk back to the car and let Serena drive her to the Salt Lake airport.
Chapter Thirty-One
Lori was back to square one.
She was sitting alone in her bedroom at her mother’s house in Schenectady. She still didn’t have a play on Broadway. Her heart was broken more than ever before. And she was hosting another pity party. No, actually, it wasn’t so much a pity party as a time to catch her heartbroken breath before going on.
She wished John had loved her enough to forgive her, to follow her here, and to want her even though her body was defective in the reproductive department. But she knew that was just a dream. It truly had been a holiday romance, but one that had ripped her heart asunder and changed her forever. She’d always cherish the fact that he’d brought her back to the light of the Gospel and back to her Savior.
She was trying to read, but hadn’t gotten far when she heard a man’s deep voice coming from downstairs.
John! He’d followed her here!
She opened her bedroom door and darted to the top of the stairs.
Greg stood at the bottom. “Hi, sis.”
Her heart seemed to roll down each of the steps before her. She was such a fool. Of course John hadn’t come. She knew he wouldn’t. She didn’t really expect him to. But, like Dawn, her heart hadn’t gotten the message yet.
“Hi, Greg,” she said as she followed her heart down the stairs.
“My relationship isn’t going so hot, either. I figured we could have a pity party together.”
Despite her pain, Lori chuckled. “That sounds so very unattrac-tive, doesn’t it?”
“Okay, so I came to cheer you up instead. I brought your favorite ice cream.”
In the family room, the television set was on. Her mother must have been watching it before she left for the store. Lori’s heart was breaking, but apparently life still went on: a huge forest fire in Utah, a whale rescued in Maine, a Hollywood actress filing for divorce and already matched up with a new man.
Just like John was probably already matched up with Dawn.
“For what my opinion counts, I think John will come for you. If he’s any kind of man, that is.” He looked at her. “Mom said you weren’t going to tell him. What made you change your mind?”
“I prayed about it. Now don’t faint. I prayed after Dad left, too.”
He put his hand to his heart, in a gesture that reminded her of Agatha last week. “You mentioned both Dad and prayer in the same sentence. It boggles the mind.”
“Oh, shut up, you big goon, and just listen.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She found the remote and clicked off the television set, then sank onto the couch. Greg sat next to her, propping his long legs on the table. He looked at her, one eyebrow still raised.
“When Dad left, I prayed that God would make Mom and Dad get back together. So when Dad married Fiona, I stopped praying. But then, in Utah, I started again. And I felt impressed to tell John the truth. So now I’m trying my best to believe that God has my best interests at heart and that He’s not just ignoring my pleas again.”
For once, Greg stayed silent and just listened.
“And when I pray now, I feel peaceful. I guess it’s God’s way of telling me everything will be okay, even without John. But I keep wondering if I did the right thing, or if I just made another huge mistake.”
“I can’t answer that for you.” Greg took her hand—now it was her turn to be shocked—and said, “Sometimes people just make mistakes, even you, even fathers, even men you fall in love with. Even brothers, if you can believe that.”
She smiled at him and he smiled back. With a sigh, she said, “I keep thinking about Dad. I don’t want to, but I do.”
“Maybe you’re ready to call him now.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Lori, just do it. Put aside your hurt and your pride—”
“Pride?”
“Yeah, pride. Stubborn, obstinate, monumental pride. Call him.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
Greg grinned and let go of her hand. “I’m pulling out the darts. If you lose, you have to call Dad. If you win, you don’t have to call him ever.”
“I always win, you know that.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. Stupid darts, anyway. I mean, look what happened last time you played darts—you had a grand adventure and fell in love.”
“And I am now alone in my mother’s house talking to my dweeby brother.”
“Good point. No darts. How about a soda?”
She smiled. “Now that I’m not in Brigham City anymore, I’d like to have something caffeinated.”
“Fuhgetaboutit,” he said. “The prophet said we don’t drink them. I gave them up, too, in honor of your adventure.”
“Oh, well, I kind of got hooked on root beer while I was in Utah.”
“Then let’s go get one.”
“Greg?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for trying to cheer me up.”
He pulled a face. “Big baby.”
“Freakishly tall dweeb.”
Some things never changed. She and her brother loved each other and tormented each other. And for that, at least, she was thankful.
~
The next evening after church, Lori sat on her bed, having changed out of her dress and into casual clothes. She’d been pondering what she was going to do with her life.
In fast and testimony meeting, she’d felt impressed to bear her testimony, while her mother had sat crying on the bench—along with a lot of other women who’d known Lori her entire life. She knew how much her coming back to church, to the Gospel, meant to her mother.
At home, her mother
had served a delicious roast beef dinner with creamy mashed potatoes and slightly lumpy gravy, and a big tossed green salad.
Sitting there for the last few hours, she’d felt the ache of losing John for good. Instead of a forever family, she had only bittersweet memories.
But she couldn’t allow herself to dwell in that sad place or she’d have to give up right now. And she wasn’t going to give up. She was going to get on with her life. And to do that, there were two things she needed to do: call her father and tackle her screenplay.
Ever since Lori had talked with Greg yesterday, she hadn’t been able to get her father out of her mind. Surprisingly enough, for the first time, she thought it would be less painful to call and talk with him than it would be not to call.
She had finally admitted to herself that her mother—and Greg and Marti and Serena and John—had all been right. She had to reconnect with her father, forgive him, and heal from the hurt. She had to grow up; she wasn’t thirteen anymore and she couldn’t live her life as though she were.
She’d already asked her mother for the phone number. To her mother’s credit, she hadn’t made a big deal about it. She’d just written the number down and handed the paper to Lori, hugged her, and said, “I love you, Lori.”
As she sat there, phone in hand, she went over the memories of her father’s betrayal and her pain. From the time he’d left, she’d refused to go visit him, and he hadn’t asked. And then, two years ago, she’d learned he’d taken his three new daughters for the camping trip at Yellowstone he’d promised her so many years ago. Instead of Lori, he’d taken Fiona and the H’s. And, despite the fact that
she’d refused to do anything with him for years, despite the fact
that she’d have refused to go even if he had invited her, the fact that he hadn’t asked had ripped her heart out.
Help me, Father, to make this call. And help me know that no matter how my father reacts today, You love me.
Taking a deep breath, she punched in the numbers and listened to the phone ring.
A girl answered. One of the H’s, but whether it was Hillary or Hailey or Hannah, Lori couldn’t tell. “Is your dad there?”
“Just a minute, please,” the girl said, not hideously at all but quite politely. And then she called out, “Dad. Telephone.”
After a moment, her father answered.
As soon as Lori heard his deep voice, she had to blink back tears. “Hi, Dad. It’s me.”
“Lori?” He sounded surprised, hesitant but also hopeful. “Is this really you?”
It was hard to get the words out. “I just . . . wanted to say hi.”
“I am so glad you called. I’ve been thinking about you so much lately. Is everything all right?”
He sounded genuinely concerned, almost as if he really cared. But she wasn’t ready to trust him enough to confide in him. Not yet. “Everything’s good, Dad.”
“We’d love to have you come over and visit us.”
“Maybe soon.”
He paused for a second. “Okay. Whatever you want.”
He sounded like a little boy who wanted a puppy and was trying to pretend very hard that he didn’t really want it that much. Did he really want to see her that much? Was it her love that he needed? When she visualized him like that, her anger melted and tears began to flow. “Dad, I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too.” She could hear him crying, too.
“Just a minute,” she said while she found a tissue to blow her nose. When she got back on, she said, “Dad? Are you there?”
“I'm sorry, Lori. I know I wasn’t there for you when I should have been. And I will always regret that.” His voice was shaky with emotion. “But I will always be here for you from now on, if you’ll let me. Always. I promise.”
She wiped her eyes and whispered, “Thanks.”
“I’d really like to see you. Can I come get you and bring you over here to visit?”
“I’m not ready to be around the others, Dad. Not yet.”
Her feelings were still too raw.
“Oh. Sure. That’s okay.”
Then she confided more than she ever thought she would. “It’s hard to be around the family you replaced me with.”
“Oh, Lori, baby,” he said, and she could hear the pain and regret in his voice. “I’ve made some huge mistakes. I never meant to replace you. You are my baby girl. The first little girl I ever had. I was so excited to hold you for the first time. That’s why I’ve stayed here in town, even though I’ve had several job offers out of state. I wanted to stay close to you and Greg, to try to make up for not being there in other ways.”
A longing to see him built inside her. “Maybe I could see just you to begin with. Maybe that would be okay.”
“That would be great. I could come over tomorrow evening and take you for a drive. Maybe we could share an extra-thick chocolate malt.”
Her favorite. He’d remembered. “I’d like that, Dad.”
“Maybe we can work up to including Fiona and the girls, too. But only if you want.”
“Maybe.” She wasn’t ready to be around Fiona yet. Or the H’s, even if they were hospitable instead of hideous. She’d go for ice cream with her dad and see where things went from there.
After they hung up, she cried for a long time, only these tears were thick and heavy, washing away the old hurt from long ago. Cleansing tears that left her exhausted, but feeling lighter at the same time.
After awhile, she wiped her tears.
If she was going to truly get on with her life without the man she’d grown to love, she might as well go all the way.
She pulled out the box with her screenplay, lifted the lid, and reached for the pages.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Hopeful. Hopeless.
Lori alternated between the two extremes.
Her father had taken her for a malt on Monday evening, the day after their talk, and they’d had a very nice visit. They were still tentative and feeling their way around each other. He was very careful and tender with her. She was hopeful that they might repair their relationship and she could have a father again, even though he hadn’t been there for her before.
They even had plans for the weekend. He was going to pick up both her and Greg tomorrow and they were going to spend a nice Saturday morning at the art museum. Maybe the next time, she’d be ready to include his other daughters. But not just yet.
On the other end of the spectrum, it had been twelve days since John had last called—nearly two weeks—and he hadn’t written or
e-mailed or called again. She had finally accepted that he really wasn’t going to be part of her future. He wanted his own children and he probably couldn’t forgive her for keeping the truth from him. And how could she blame him?
Lori had put off job hunting since she’d arrived home, but after the weekend, she would start looking. She needed cash while she finished her screenplay.
A knock was followed by Lori’s mother peeking around the bedroom door. “Hey, hon, want to go out to a movie?”
“I don’t think so, Mom. Maybe next weekend.”
Her mother stepped into the room. “You’re too young to be wasting away at home.”
Lori smiled. “And I’m too old to be guilt-tripped into going out.”
“I guess you are, at that. Okay, another exciting Friday night watching a DVD and munching popcorn?”
“You choose the movie.”
“Return to Me.”
Lori sighed. “Mom, he’s not coming for me. It’s over. I’ve accepted it.”
“Never stop dreaming, Lori. Don’t give up on love.”
Lori smiled. “What time is Greg coming over?”
His brother had called earlier to announce he wanted to show them the new suit he’d
bought for a date with a woman he’d met.
Her mother glanced at her watch. “Any time now.”
“Anybody home?” a woman called from downstairs.
“Up here, Marti,” Lori shouted back as she stood and joined her mother. “We’ll be right down.”
“Come on.” Mom wrapped an arm around Lori’s waist. “Let’s party.”
Lori laughed. “Let’s do.”
As they walked down the stairs, Marti looked up at them, her hands on her hips. “I hear there’s a wild movie night here every Friday. When does it start?”
“As soon as you rowdy yourself up a little.”
Marti did a few dance moves from their high school era, and both Lori and her mother laughed.
“All right,” Lori said. “Let the wild party begin.”
Someone knocked on the door. “Oh, for Pete’s sake, Greg,” called out her mother. “You don’t have to knock.”
Another knock.
Lori rolled her eyes. “I’ll get it and smack him around a little while I’m at it.”
As she swung open the door, she said, “Come in, already, you freakishly tall—”
She stopped, frozen in place.
It wasn’t Greg.
John Wayne Walker stood on her porch.
Shocked into silence, she stood still for the longest moment.
Dressed in slacks and a white button-down shirt, he’d obviously dressed up for the occasion.
She still couldn’t move. “What are you doing here?”
He looked nervous. “I’m sorry I haven’t called.”
She whispered, “It’s been nearly two weeks.”
“I know. We were out of contact with everyone during the worst of the blaze. Then, after I got home and found your note and your ring, I decided I had to come talk to you in person. It would be too easy for you to tell me to get lost over the phone.”
“Oh.”
“Oh,” her mother repeated as she stepped up beside Lori. She smiled widely. “You must be John Walker.”
He smiled and put out his hand. “Yes, ma’am, I am.”
“I’m Irene Scott.” Her mother beamed as she shook his hand. “Please do come in.”
How to Stuff a Wild Zucchini Page 27
