by TWCS Authors
“Well, that’s a relief,” she teased. “You’re looking well. Lori, of course, has been keeping me up to date.”
Justin nodded and sipped at his drink, his eyes warm. “Thanks. Good to reconnect with your family, too.” A quick look touched April palpably. “Mom’s been pretty discreet over the years, so it’s been good to catch up.”
April nodded slowly. “It has been.”
Hannah slurped some of her cocoa. “So are you really walking to the train? You’re gonna take a train? Mom? I want to ride the train.” Another slurp. “Mr. Clark? You’re gonna show Mom how it works, right? So she can take me?”
“Hannah!” April rolled her eyes and polished off her coffee. “The world does not revolve around you. Just remember that.”
Her mother scoffed and moved to kiss her granddaughter on the head. “Well, my world will today, sweets. So we’ll make it a great day.”
Justin passed very close to April on his way to the sink to rinse out his cup. “Ready? I know it’s cold, but the walk will feel great.”
“I’m from Southern California,” she groused, only partly feigning her annoyance. She loved how pretty the neighborhood looked with the light blanket of navigable snow, but she wasn’t used to winter feeling like, well, winter. “Cold is not great, yet.”
Her mom laughed. April rolled her eyes. C’mon, Mom, quit flirting. Okay, so her mother wasn’t actually flirting, but she was being all girly and that made April feel a bit inadequate. And she didn’t even know why.
“Let’s go,” she suggested, pushing away from the counter and walking around it to where Hannah was seated on a high stool. “Have a good day with Gramma.”
“I will, Mom.”
“Love you.”
“You, too!” Hannah gave her a slightly chocolatey kiss on the cheek and April reciprocated. “Don’t forget your camera! I want to see pictures of the train!”
Knowing in advance that there would be a lot of walking that day, April was wearing her new favorite walking shoes—a pair of black, thick-soled Mary Janes that were water-repellent and extremely comfortable. She wore them with heavy black tights and a below-the-knee denim skirt. Not knowing exactly what Justin had planned, she wanted very much to be “dressed” if they went to a restaurant as well as “comfortable” if they spent the day taking in museums. So she had a black leather coat over a pink cashmere sweater. Outfitting themselves for a winter that had actual snow had been an adventure for her and Hannah.
Wearing a black, cable knit sweater over a white shirt and a light, all-weather coat, Justin looked like he was fully acclimated to the Maryland winter. “Thank you,” he said once they’d stepped beyond the boundaries of the yard and were making snow-crunched steps on the pavement. “Thanks for giving me a day.”
Heat flooded her cheeks. “Thanks for being patient and waiting for it.”
“It’s been less than two months since I asked, April. Not a significant amount of time if you count all the years we go back.”
“Yeah,” she said, watching her step. She slipped anyway, but Justin caught her with one arm wrapped around her back. “Thanks. I am so blushing now.”
He chuckled. “You are, but you look fantastic.”
He let his arm slide down and around, but he didn’t let her go. He simply took her hand in his. Even through two sets of leather gloves, she was aware of warmth and a feeling of safety.
Safety. It had been a long time since she’d felt protected like this. Even in so casual a way. Oh, she had had security at first, after John died, but when her name had ceased to appear in the news outlets, she had let them go. Let them go and run away, really, across the country to where she hoped she’d feel . . . normal?
Smiling shyly at Justin, whose expression radiated contentment, she was surprised at how normal she felt. They had stories to tell one another today, she understood that. She just didn’t know how significant those accounts would be. To either of them.
“So we’re going to the train, right?”
“Yep. I’ve got a plan.”
It felt odd, being out without Hannah. Odd and disconnected, but also carefree. The feeling slid through her limbs and she swung the hand joined with Justin’s, just as if they were small children together. “Good. I’m really looking forward to it.”
He explained to her about the different trains they’d be taking to get into D.C. while they stood at the station and, when their train arrived, he stepped up into their car ahead of her so he could help her in from in front of her and not from behind. She was grateful. She slipped and his hand enveloped her forearm with sure strength.
If he had been behind her, he might have had to catch her with his arms around her, she was pretty sure. That would have been embarrassing.
“You okay?” His eyes were warm.
She could feel the heat in her skin under that look. “Yeah, thank you.” Part of her actually wanted to say something flirtatious, like, Good hands, Marine, or the ridiculous You’re so strong! but she refrained. Long ago, she had put herself forward for this man and he’d ignored her. The memory of how that felt lingered, even as he had been showing her for about two months that he was investing himself in her. They still talked about movies, as they had before, but now he asked about Hannah, too. And their current lives—not their pasts, as they had silently decided to save that talk—with their different occupations and so on. His dedication to his unit, her endeavors to find something useful to do that would not take away from her time with Hannah.
It was effective, and April knew that he was serious about her. He hadn’t pushed to see her, but daily emails, texts, and phone calls had been communicating more than just his words.
Just as the expression in his eyes was on the train into D.C.
“So, what are we going to be up to today?” she asked, trying not to sound nervous. Part of her felt embarrassed about that, but mostly . . . she didn’t.
His eyes danced. “I’ve got an itinerary,” he told her, reaching for her hand and turning slightly in his seat. He was sitting on the aisle and the misty light from the overcast day clarified every aspect of his face. “If it doesn’t snow too much,” he went on with a nod toward the window behind her head, “we should be able to get it all in.”
His enthusiasm was contagious. “Sounds busy! All right, tell me.”
“Well, the only real time constraint we have is that I made dinner reservations . . .”
April felt her smile grow as he told her about the place where they’d filmed St. Elmo’s Fire and the Smithsonian.
“I thought we’d just catch the Museum of American History today, but if you want to come back to see some of the others? You know most of my weekends are free for the time being.” He also mentioned the National Archive where President Lincoln’s telegrams were on display, as well as ideas for lunch and perhaps a stroll in front of the White House, time permitting.
April felt overwhelmed and ducked her head. “That took a lot of work to plan.”
“You’re worth it.”
She turned away a little and tried to focus on the passing, winter-bare scenery. “John used to say that,” she whispered, knowing Justin would hear her.
There was a pause, then, “He was right.”
“I had to be reminded, sometimes.”
She could hear Justin’s sigh as he tugged gently at her hand in a silent invitation to turn to him again. “Tell me?”
Nervous, she drew her lips into her mouth to moisten them. Was it time? The deep blue eyes across from her beckoned, his lips pressed together as if he were restraining himself against his own wishes. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t told him time and again what had happened. She had. Often.
Maybe she could start there.
Ignoring the fact that her heart was pounding, she began. “I used to tell you about it, you know. I mean, right after.”
“Right after I didn’t answer?”
“Yes.” She couldn’t watch him as she spoke, but she paid careful att
ention to the changes in pressure he exerted on her hands as he held them. Around them was the constant rumble of the train and she felt it sway slightly as it took curves in the track. These things soothed her so that she felt able to continue. “I’d talk to my mirror, or when I was cleaning up in my classroom after the kids left for the day. I didn’t get it, you know? Why would you completely blow me off?”
“April, I—”
Firming her expression, she met his. “No. Let me just do this, okay?”
He nodded slowly, apparent pain creasing at the corners of his mouth.
“Okay. I figured that maybe I’d been reading you wrong, like, for years. Or maybe I’d really failed in the e-flirtation department, you know? Or that you’d found someone and didn’t want to tell me. Or that I just . . . wasn’t worth answering.”
At his sharp breath, she straightened her spine and waited until she was sure he was listening and not preparing to talk. “Justin. You should probably know right now that I can take a lot of things, but I can’t and won’t take being ignored. Period. My parents learned that when I was tiny. My students all had it in their heads by the end of the first period we spent together. And I told John the first time he seemed not to hear me when I was speaking.”
He opened his mouth, regret clear in his narrowed gaze.
“So, yeah, I was upset. I thought, you know, if you hadn’t wanted to go out with me, you would have told me or changed the subject or told me not to go all Fatal Attraction or something, you know? But you didn’t.”
“I couldn’t lie to you,” he murmured.
“But you could have answered.”
“I should have.”
“Yeah.”
He cocked his head a little and slid one hand from their doubled clasp to remove his glove and cup her cheek in his palm. The warmth of his skin brought tears to her eyes and she didn’t know why. Her chest ached.
“I’m sorry. I know I keep saying that, but it’s true.”
Nodding, she pressed her own hand to his. “I know.”
He let his hand slide from her skin but left his glove off. “So, John Sinclair?”
Memories filtered behind her eyes as the train sped along. “Well, I was working, as you know, and trying to shake off how I felt, after . . . you know. So. One of the other teachers was throwing a party at New Year’s and I went because I didn’t have a date.” She shrugged, eyes downcast as a smile tilted at her lips. Telling the story of how John had rescued her from an importunate, handsy, intoxicated man at the party was bittersweet, but it still made her smile a little. “He literally swept me off my feet, since I was a bit unsteady, and he stayed by me for the rest of the party.” She hadn’t known who J.P. Sinclair was at the time, which had amused her future husband. “We dated and he really blew me away, you know? He really was a good man, Justin. He was smart and funny and he had a really stable faith, too, which helped me to trust him so fast, I think.”
Justin was a bit pale, but he seemed to be listening intently. He said, “I saw your wedding invitation, you know.”
That hit her like a kick in the ribs and she winced. “What?”
“I wasn’t home, April,” he assured her, his color returning as his grip tightened briefly on her fingers. “I had been away. Traveled a lot on my leaves, that year. So,” he pushed out a breath and leaned more closely to her, “I saw it about the same time as your mom called my mom to tell her you were pregnant.”
She felt horrible, as if guilty of some grave crime, and could only stare at him.
“Camden Station,” came the announcement over the public address system on the train. Around them, commuters put on hats or scarves, some picking up packages or brushing their hair.
“That was maybe the hardest day of my life,” Justin remarked, his tone far too light for the shadows in his eyes.
As the train slowed to a stop and many of its passengers prepared to disembark, April stood, too. “You are telling me about this,” she stated, using her teacher voice.
Rising to his feet, he nodded. “Of course.” He removed his other glove and tucked them into the pocket of his coat and she did likewise, following his lead. When he held out his hand to her, she took it without hesitation. It felt right, natural, as if they’d always done this. But they never had, before that day.
Nerves and expectation swirled in her midsection as they walked hand in hand about the train station. Tile lined the walls, directories were everywhere, and it was loud. So loud. Voices echoed off all available surfaces as commuters chatted with one another or on their phones. Overhead electronic signs indicated how much time until the next train would be there.
Forty minutes. That was enough time, April decided. She squeezed his fingers with hers, gratified when he pulled his entire focus from watching the people around them to watching her face.
“Everything all right? You look pretty serious,” he said. The shadow was still in his eyes, which were accented under his dark blond eyebrows. His eyelashes, though, were black. It didn’t seem fair, she observed, that a man should have lashes that long. He studied her another moment and swallowed visibly. “Okay. The long version.”
“Please.”
He settled himself against the wall, next to a large poster with an advertisement for the Smithsonian. “I got sent to Afghanistan with my unit,” he said, his voice firm and intimate. His eyes focused over her head, though, and she could only imagine the scenes that played behind his eyes. “It wasn’t an easy place for guy our age to go, but I was proud to do it.”
“I remember,” April affirmed, squeezing his hands in hers. She was facing him, her feet between his slightly spread stance as he leaned back. “Your letters were always welcome, you know.”
His mouth tilted wryly. “Yeah, well, I did what I could, you know? But it was . . . it was hard, hon. It was. I think the first deployment always is, during a war.” His gaze touched hers for a moment. “Your letters helped more than you could have known. You made me laugh. Gave the other guys something to tease me about—”
“Sorry?” April felt her skin heat, though it had been many years since then. Yes, they had been lightly flirting by that time in their correspondence. She could remember the bright red lipstick she had used on at least one envelope in the hope that Justin would get teased.
His chuckle relieved her. “Remembering the lipstick? I haven’t forgotten a thing,” he said. Then, he sighed and the laughter went away. “So I came home from that, you know. I was feeling conflicted, to be honest. About a lot of things. When you—you’ve seen and done things, it changes you. I had to figure that out. And then, the girl I’d been dreaming about for years asked me out and I didn’t know what to say to her.”
A thrill tingled up her spine and goose bumps arose everywhere. She was glad they weren’t visible since she was wearing long sleeves and everything. Still, she couldn’t look away from his face. Regret and hope flashed in his eyes as they met hers. “You could’ve said yes,” she whispered.
He didn’t look away this time. “I wanted to. I did. But I felt . . . I felt different, April. Different from the guy who had gone away. Different from the guy who got into food fights at barbecues and couldn’t find the nerve to ask you out. I didn’t know, see, if it’d be right for me to spend that day with you, then. I didn’t know if you’d even want to see me if you knew . . . knew everything.”
“Justin,” she whispered, stepping even closer to him, feeling his jeans through her stockings. “You didn’t have faith in me.”
“I was afraid you’d hate me, if you knew.”
“Never.”
He looked over her head again. “And, if we had spent that day together? I wouldn’t have wanted that to be it. I’d have wanted more. I knew it even then. I would have wanted more and it wouldn’t have been fair to you, because I’d be gone so much. Stationed in Okinawa, maybe, or deployed somewhere else. It wouldn’t have been fair to you.”
It didn’t require a great deal of thought for her to re
ach up and bracket his jaw in her palms. She had to see his eyes. She couldn’t let him distance himself. Not now. “Hey. I just wish you had told me some of this, then, you know? Given me a chance.”
“I told you. I was young and stupid.”
“So you ignored me?”
“I couldn’t say no to you, April. I tore myself up but I couldn’t. And I couldn’t say yes, so . . .”
“So you didn’t say anything.” She shook her head and dropped her hands. “I get it. But yeah. You were young and stupid.”
“Thanks,” he said, his tone lighter than it had been. He cupped her face and tilted her head and she let him. “Forgive me? I know that hurt.”
Warmth raced from his fingers to her skin, warmth that she never thought she’d feel again. Her heart seemed to do a double-thump in her chest. “It did, but I forgive you, Justin.” She leaned into one of his hands and smiled a little. It soothed her to know that he had done what he had out of a misguided sense of right, as opposed to disrespect. They had been young. And stupid, maybe. Both of them.
“Thank you,” he whispered. The air suddenly grew heavy between them and April couldn’t help that her focus slipped to his mouth. It was drawing nearer and she realized all at once that she was entirely okay with that. His breath was warm and smelled like hot chocolate and toothpaste and she smiled just as his lips touched hers. She didn’t care that they were in the train station and there were people walking behind her, to and fro. All that mattered was that he kissed her and she kissed him back. She closed her eyes and grabbed his jacket with both hands as she felt her way through the give and take, the introductory engagement of lips meeting lips. The rush of sensation surprised her. He was only the second man she had ever kissed.
Somewhere, she felt sure that John would be okay with it.
Before she lost herself entirely, Justin pulled back a bit and rested his forehead to hers. His breath came fast, and she blushed. She didn’t know what to say and nerves raced under her skin. “I feel like I’m sixteen again,” she confessed to the air between them.
He pressed his lips to her forehead and straightened, moving to check his watch. “There’s one more thing,” he told her.
