by S. M. Smith
“I’m sorry, come in,” she steps back and lets me in. “I’ll be right back.” She sets her coffee on the counter, and I can’t take my eyes off her as she retreats back to her bedroom.
I am too anxious to sit, so I walk around her living room, looking at the pictures I already know are there. Most are of her and her father, a few of her mother, but there are several of her with friends. Her and Daphne at a Mizzou game, her and the girls from the youth group we sometimes assist with at a school play, and my favorite, the one of her and me. It was the day that I got the news I passed the bar; she kept telling me how proud of me she was. I had just cracked a joke about my being able to get her out of jail the next time she and Daphne got into some trouble. She had burst out laughing and Mom snapped this picture, perfectly capturing her radiant smile.
I stare at the picture, thinking it’s been too long since I’ve heard her laugh. Waiting for her has turned out to be much more problematic than I thought it would be. I thought I had lost her twice now, once to my high school best friend, and then to that douchebag, Caleb.
I waited a long time, too long, to tell her how I felt. So when she asked for me to wait a little while longer, I thought I could handle it. But she up and disappeared, not returning my calls, barely responding to my texts and email, and ran off to Mexico “to think”. I think I might combust if she doesn’t tell me what she’s needed to “think” about.
She walks back in, changed into yoga pants and a t-shirt. She has combed her hair out and pulled it back into a ponytail, looking a little more refreshed, yet not quite awake. Man, she’s beautiful first thing in the morning.
I set the picture back down and prop myself up against the back of her couch, still not able to calm down enough to sit.
“How was Mexico?” I ask.
“Mmm. It was good. Warm. Sunny. Perfect weather,” she says picking up her coffee and settling against the breakfast bar. She takes a sip and closes her eyes as if she’s enjoying it.
“You look great. Mexico really seemed to agree with you.” She blushes at my compliment.
“Thank you. It’s good to see you.”
She gives me a timid smile and I have to grip the edge of the couch to maintain my self-control. We sit in silence for a few minutes, not sure what to say to each other. I can’t take my eyes off her and she’s having a hard time looking away from her cup of coffee. Everything about her, those eyes, nose, lips, they are all better than I remember and I’m not sure if it’s because she knows my feelings for her now or if the glow the Mexican sun left on her has amplified their beauty. It takes everything within me not to charge the five feet between us and sweep her up into my arms. She asked for time, asked me to wait. So wait I shall.
“I’m getting promoted,” I finally tell her, trying to break the silence. The surprise of my news finally causes her to look up at me. Dear Lord, those eyes.
“Stephen, that’s….really great. Congratulations,” she says genuinely.
I can't take it anymore. I stand up and take a step toward her. She doesn't back down or break eye contact, and I take that as a good sign to continue. As I take a second step toward her, I hear her breath catch and my willpower implodes. I cross the remaining distance between us in one final step and take her face in my hands. Our lips collide and I feel all the anxiety that has been building up for the last three weeks sweep away. So much for waiting.
She wraps her arms around my neck and I'm lost in her touch, everything within me awakening. I tighten my grip on her, pulling her as close to me as I can get her. She responds, but after a few moments, pulls back, breathless and smiling. She takes up my hand and pulls me over to the couch.
I sit down and pull her so close, she’s practically sitting in my lap, but I don't let her go. I have this nagging feeling that if I do, she'll slip away again and I don't think I can let another three weeks go by without talking to or seeing her.
“I really missed you,” I tell her quietly as we just stare at one another.
“I really missed you too.”
“You did?” I can't help the surprise in my voice. She nods and I can't stop the words before they come out, sounding more hurt than I would have liked.
“You sure have a funny way of showing it.”
She hesitates, and I'm not sure if it’s because she's taken aback or if because she's feeling guilty.
“I needed to make sure that I’ve given myself enough time,” she says, finally breaking eye contact to focus on her hands.
“So you're afraid of being with me because you don't think you're over Caleb?” Unavoidable anger rises within and spilling out in my words. I don’t think it’s any big secret to her that I never liked the guy.
“Absolutely not! He really wasn't worth my time, and I really, really wish I had figured that out so much sooner. No, I just needed to be sure I wanted to be with you because of my feelings for you and not because I feel like I need to be in a relationship period. It's been a long time since I've been on my own.”
That makes sense to me, but the uber-selfish part of me says this isn't even important. I want to be with her, she wants to be with me. That should be all that matters. But she's right to be ensuring this for both of us. I care too much about her to ask her to start something with me because I don't think I want to wait anymore.
I place two fingers under her chin and lift gently to make her look up at me.
“And what did you decide?” I try to ask without sounding too pleading.
“I decided it has nothing to do with needing to be in a relationship. It's about not wanting to hurt you. You’re an amazing man and deserve the best, but I can’t not have you in my life. It just doesn’t work for me,” she says quietly.
Her words hit me like a freight train.
“So you can't live without me, and you think I’m amazing.” The goofy grin that grows on my face is totally involuntary. “So where does that leave us?”
“Can we take things slow?” she asks timidly. My chest constricts and I realize I've been holding my breath. “We can go out, like a date, and see where things go from there.”
I let that breath out slowly. She's saying yes. It’s not a let's-run-off-to-Vegas-and-elope kind of yes. But it's a yes I will take.
I lean forward and kiss the tip of her nose, and lean back to find a genuinely happy look on her face.
“Sounds good to me.”
“Good. Um, are you hungry?” she asks. She gets up and I fight the urge to pull her back down.
“I could eat.” I get up and follow her to the kitchen, taking up a post at the end of her kitchen island.
She opens the fridge to find a bottle of mustard, half a bottle of wine, a half-empty container of leftover spaghetti, and some coffee creamer. A lifetime of Sunday lunches tell me she’s a good cook, but unless she’s David Copperfield and can make some ingredients magically appear, we’re going to have to go out for groceries anyway.
“You know, I know a great little diner just a few blocks away.” I chuckle at her. She gives me a guilty smile.
“Good idea. Let me go put some jeans on and we’ll go.”
***
We get back to her apartment and I’m not ready to let go of her hand. I’ve had ahold of it every possible moment since we left for the diner, still trying to ground myself from the Cloud Nine I’ve been on since we kissed this morning. I’ve waited so long to be with the girl of my dreams and she finally is choosing me. I’m one happy man.
“When are you headed home?” I ask her as we reach her building.
“I will probably head down just as soon as I finish putting everything away and can repack for the night. You?”
“I promised Grady and a couple guys from the gym a game tonight, so I will be down first thing in the morning.”
We stop as we reach her door. I really don’t want to leave, but I know her dad is anxious to see her so I need to let her get on her way. I pull her in and inhale her sweet scent one last time. She reaches up on
her tiptoes to kiss me and I instinctively squeeze her tighter.
“Speaking of going home, do you think we should tell our parents?” she asks breathlessly when she steps back down.
“What do you want to tell our parents?” I raise an eyebrow, curious as to how she is going to phrase this. I honestly don’t care what we tell them, but I’m going to have to tell them something. I’m not sure I can keep the stupid grin off my face through the church services, let alone a “family” dinner.
She matches my ear to ear grin before answering, “That we’re dating.”
“Okay…. As in plural, multiple dates...” The blush on her face gives her away. “Okay, yes, I do think we should tell them that we’re dating. But I would like to talk to your dad before we say anything officially. You know, to make sure that we have his blessing,” I say timidly.
Not that her father strikes fear in me or anything, although I have hunted with the man and he’s an expert marksman so I do not in any way want to cross him, but I respect him as a man and as our pastor. And if he says that he doesn’t think this is a good idea, then…well we’ll cross that bridge should we come to it.
Her grin grows into a full megawatt smile. She’s happy, and I’m elated that I can say or do something to bring that out in her. I lean down to kiss her this time but make it quick, because otherwise if I don’t, I’ll never leave.
***
I can’t sit still for the two and half hour drive to my parents’ house. I’d like to blame it on the two cups of coffee that I’ve downed already this morning, but I know it’s because I just can’t wait to see her again. And because I’m so anxious, the drive that normally takes me two and a half hours only takes me an hour and forty five minutes.
I slow my Audi down, thankful I managed to arrive without getting pulled over at all, and I turn onto the old farm road that leads home. I see her silver Outback sitting in her father’s driveway, and it takes quite a bit of effort to keep on track to my house. I manage, however, by telling myself that we have to be at the church within the hour so I won’t have to wait too much longer anyway.
I pull into my parents’ driveway and park out of the way so that my dad won’t run his massive farm truck over my Audi RS 5. I love this car, but ever since Jess finally said we could try us out, my long term plan making has been on overdrive. If I have my way, we’ll be married by Christmas. And of course she wants kids, so the idea of a bigger, more family friendly vehicle has me checking out larger cars. I haven’t found anything as sexy as my Audi yet, and I know it’s a little presumptuous but I’ve got some time.
I walk in the back door and smell my mom’s infamous chicken roasting. Her light brown hair is clipped up in wide pink curlers piled top of her head, and she’s already dressed in a pretty salmon colored dress, covered by her apron so she won’t splash anything on herself. She’s still in her soft white house slippers though, no doubt waiting until the last minute to step into the heels she loves the look of but hates to wear. She peers over her shoulder to smile at me.
“You’re early. Did you have a good trip this morning?” she asks, turning back to some delicious smelling boiling substance on the stove. I wrap my arms around her and give a proper greeting by way of a big hug and a kiss on the cheek.
“I did.” I smile at her. She cocks an eyebrow at me and smirks.
“Something’s different. You’re in a good mood.”
“I’m always in a good mood.” I say a bit defensively.
“Morning son. Coffee?” Dad asks, refilling his favorite mug and opening the cabinet to pull one out for me.
“He’s in a good mood, Mark. Something’s up.” My mother spills the beans.
“Oh, no! A good mood, you say?” my father mocks surprised concern. “To what do we owe the honor?” He turns to me and hands me a steamy cup of black coffee, a playful smile on his face.
I hope to look as good as my father does when I get to be his age. The man has kept in shape, mostly by still maintaining the farm. His eyes still dance with youth, letting only the white hair that he keeps buzzed and the laugh lines around his eyes and the corners of his mouth show the signs of his age. He wears the signs of a life well lived well.
I take a sip, trying to stall hoping the phone will ring or something. I don’t necessarily want to tell them anything until I’ve had the chance to talk to Jessie’s father. But I know I’m going to get a full interrogation if I don’t say something.
But it looks like I don’t have to. My mother’s intuition has kicked in.
“Jessie got in last night didn’t she?” There’s a glow in my mother’s eyes that tells me I can’t fool her.
“Friday night actually.” I say, trying to hide the obvious smile behind a cup of coffee.
“Hmmm,” is the only response I get from my mom before she gives me this look like she knows exactly what is going on. Dad winks at me as he picks up the newspaper off the counter, tucks it under his arm and exits the room. I probably should have followed him.
“I do have some good news, but I’d like to discuss it this afternoon, if you can be patient,” I tease my mother. She raises an eyebrow at me that says I better not push my luck, but there’s another look there, too, that says she knows exactly what is going on.
“Well I’m sure I will like whatever news you have to share,” she tells me, turning the stove off. “You’ve seemed a little less than happy lately, and I’m just glad that whatever has happened has livened you back up.”
She stands on her tiptoes so that her five foot, four inch self can kiss my cheek, then unties her apron and hangs it on the hook beside the back door. I follow her into the living room where my father peers over the glasses perched on the end of his nose to watch my mother walk through the room. Knowing he’s watching her, she gives him an ornery smile and shakes her hips as she rounds the corner toward their room. It used to gross me out when they would do stuff like that, but now I find it endearing. Doesn’t keep me from shaking my head at them though.
Their relationship is legendary, almost thirty-eight years of just about everything a couple can go through, multiple miscarriages, a failing business, moving themselves away from family and friends to serve at a church they knew next to nothing about. Yet they still look at each other like there is no one else in the world.
I have been in love with Jessie for as long as I can remember, and even after everything we’ve already been through, I still think she’s the only girl in the world for me. I let myself wonder if we will look at each other the way my parents do after thirty-eight years from now, and the idea brings another lovesick smile to my face.
“Good news, huh?” my dad asks, bringing me back down to Earth.
“Yes, sir,” I tell him, taking another sip of coffee.
“She’s a remarkable girl,” he says slyly as he gets up from his easy chair and heads back into the kitchen to put his coffee mug in the sink.
***
The drive to church is agonizingly slow. I swear my father doesn’t know that he will not crash the truck if he drives above 45 down these back roads. When we finally do pull into the church parking lot, Jessie’s father is unlocking the door, and beside him stands the most beautiful creature God has ever created. She sees our truck and her cheeks flush the color of the red pea coat she’s wearing. Her father opens the door for her before we are fully parked, and again my self-control is tested as I fight the urge to jump out of the truck and rush after her.
I help my mother, who is oddly quiet for a Sunday morning, watching me with a careful eye, out of the car. I can’t hide the blinding smile Jessie inspires so I just go with it.
“Good morning Mrs. Cahill, Mr. Cahill.” Jessie addresses my parents politely as we all enter the building. “Stephen.” She nods at me with a grin that nearly breaks my carefully reinforced willpower.
“Jessie, honey, please. I think we both know it’s time you start calling me Janine, don’t you? You look so lovely this morning,” my mother gushes and g
rabs her into a tight hug. Jessie gives me a surprised look over my mother’s shoulder and my dad and I both chuckle.
“Thank you. What can I help you with this morning, Janine?” Jessie asks hesitantly as she pulls out of my mother’s embrace.
Informality time is over and Mom is back to barking out orders. Fortunately for us, she sends both of us to the printer. I wait until we are around the corner and out of earshot before scooping my girl up in my arms. She squeals and I have to cover her mouth with mine, you know to keep us from being heard.
“I thought you wanted to wait to tell them until you talked to my dad?” she asks pulling out of my arms and reaching for my hand.
“Ugh, my mom had it figured out not twenty seconds after I walked through the door,” I tell her exasperatedly. Jess gives me a suspicious look. “I honestly don’t know how she knew it was you, but seriously all I had to say was ‘good morning’ and that I had a good drive. She figured the rest out entirely on her own. Dad too.”
“It’s that ridiculous grin on your face.” She cocks an eyebrow at me, and highly inappropriate thoughts dash through my mind. I quickly remind myself we’re in the house of the Lord and decide I should probably focus on the task at hand.
“By the way,” she starts again, “Dad is already looking forward to a conversation with you this afternoon.” She winks, let’s go of my hand, and picks up her pace toward the printer room.
Chapter Three
~Jessie~
I get stared down by a slack-jawed Daphne as I trot through the lobby in my best gray pencil skirt and black pointed toe stilettos. I really can’t help that I’m feeling on top of the world, and apparently it’s noticeable because she storms into my office once she recovers from her shock and awe.
“Wowza!” Her eyes sweep me over again before a knowing smile splays across her face. “You did it, didn’t you?” she demands.
“Did what?” I ask, pulling my laptop out of my bag.
