Ghosts of Romances Past

by Laura Briggs

  She pressed her forehead, wishing the ache would subside. Focusing was hard enough without a migraine. “Do you know where he went, by any chance?”

  He shrugged. “I dunno…he mentioned something about an internship with his uncle’s software company. Somewhere in Georgia, I think.”

  “Thanks.” She turned to go, the hallway blurring in front of her.

  “You OK?” the guy called after her.

  She raised a hand in answer, too busy fighting off tears and exhaustion to form a thought. Staggering down the stairs, she drew deep breaths in an effort to calm down. The possibility of Jamie giving up on his painting dreams never even crossed her mind. He should’ve been at the top of his class, not a drop-out halfway through the first semester.

  It’s all my fault. A dull ache filled her throat, a painful lump pushing its way upwards. I ruined both our lives. No wonder he didn’t answer my letters. He probably doesn’t care if he ever sees me again.

  On the train back to the airport, Alice faced an empty seat, the only one in the compartment it seemed. Valentine’s Day festivities were in full swing all around. Couples in love shared whispered conversations, their voices laced with deep, secretive tones. Dressed in elegant suits and gowns, most were on their way to candlelight dinners and theatre reservations. She would board a plane and return to an empty dorm room for what would surely be a sleepless night.

  Hot tears trickled unchecked from her eyes, as the pink glow of sunset arrived to bathe the train’s interior. The soft rays reflected off the stone that still encircled her ring finger. She stroked its smooth exterior, her memory returning to the moment Jamie slipped it on her hand, his dark eyes gazing up at her, their depths full of fear and expectation.

  I never meant to break your heart, Jamie. Or mine.

  With a twist, she pulled the ring off and slipped it inside her pocket. Then she buried her face in her hands, shutting out the romantic atmosphere and all its familiar promises.

  Ghosts Of Romances Past

  23

  What did Alice see in that guy anyway?

  Jamie groaned and leaned back against the bench in Willow Park. He’d come here to get his mind off his troubles, but so far it only magnified them. Happy couples were everywhere, strolling hand in hand by the water, sharing cozy lunches beneath sprawling magnolia trees. With that kind of scenery, he wasn’t likely to forget Alice and Warren’s burgeoning romance.

  Warren. He shook his head, a frown tugging the corner of his mouth. As much as he tried, he couldn’t picture an all-work-and-no-play type making Alice happy. For one thing, he didn’t respect her artwork—or ‘illustrations,’ as he insisted on calling them. Sure, Warren might see this as some kind of encouragement, a way to help Alice tap into hidden talents. But couldn’t he see she was happy with her work already?

  Easy now. It’s not like you’re a real relationship therapist. He thumped his pencil against the notebook, wishing something more than jealousy colored his opinion of Warren. After all, the guy had a lot of admirable qualities, especially from a woman’s point of view. Hard-working, ambitious, charming, thoughtful. An excellent dresser—this with a glance at his own faded jeans and jacket.

  A grin cracked his face despite the overwhelming odds. Yeah, he didn’t stand a chance against someone who was practically Prince Charming incarnate. But this wasn’t about his own happiness. Alice deserved someone who appreciated her special qualities. Whether or not he got the honor of being that person didn’t matter, just as long as she was happy.

  Give me the strength to really mean that, Lord. He pushed his sleeves up and tried to settle into sketch mode. A hard task, considering the decision he faced at approximately one-thirty. Because if Alice agreed on the Nursery Time Project, it would cement their partnership for a whole year, putting his heart in jeopardy and raising hopes he didn’t dare indulge under the present circumstances.

  “Just clear your head,” he murmured, his pencil flowing across the blank page, forming the shape of a twisted tree trunk and wide branches. This was his safe place, and by far, his best environment for thinking. More than once, he’d come here to wrestle over a tricky work assignment or spiritual matter. And he’d spent more than a few hours on this same bench that fateful day Alice reentered his life.

  Four months. It hardly seemed possible they’d worked together that long. Even now, surrounded by open sky and sunshine, the shock of that meeting was easily recalled.

  The way his breath stuck in his throat the moment he saw the familiar green eyes and red hair. His inability to speak when introductions were made, the surreal quality of sharing a cup of coffee and civil conversation minutes later. While deep down, his emotions churned with a mixture of shame and childish resentment.

  Yes, that meeting had ripped the foundation right out of his world. And he couldn’t help wondering how things might be now if he’d reacted differently. If only….But then hindsight was twenty-twenty, right? His mind wandered back to that day.

  ****

  One of us should apologize, and it’s not me.

  Those words had chased each other through Jamie’s mind as he squeezed Alice’s hand across the café table. Twelve years since he’d laid eyes on her, twelve years since she’d crushed his heart with an unexpected goodbye. And now they were sealing the deal on a business partnership. Stranger things must have happened, but not to him.

  “It’s good to call a truce.” Keeping his gaze, Alice drew her hand away and curved it around her coffee mug. “Seeing you walk through that door was kind of like a punch in the stomach. The last thing I expected, if you know what I mean.”

  He did. Secretly, he’d always hoped to see her again, almost as much as he’d dreaded it might actually happen. Funny how one could want something and fear it all at the same time.

  “More coffee?” the waitress asked, stopping to fill the silence between them.

  “Thanks,” said Jamie, shoving his cup in her direction. He’d drunk less than half, but just now it helped to have a third party present. Because the remaining part of this conversation was bound to turn personal, and he wasn’t quite ready for that.

  As the waitress departed, Alice pulled a small chunk from her cheese cake pastry. “So you’re a graphic illustrator, now. That really surprises me.”

  “I’ll bet,” he said, reaching for a creamer packet. “Pretty much everyone I knew thought I’d end up selling my artwork out of a car trunk.”

  “That’s not what I meant—”

  “Hey, I know.” He grinned, his heart softening enough to cut her a break. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what a goof I can be?”

  “No.” A hint of playfulness appeared in her jade green eyes. “Not completely. But time can change a person.”

  Did he imagine the significance behind those words? If she meant time had changed her own heart and feelings…Way too soon for that kind of speculation.

  “Anyway,” Alice said, “I just meant it’s surprising to find you designing digital stuff. You’re such a good painter.”

  “So are you,” he counteracted. “But that doesn’t stop you from dabbling in illustrations.”

  “Painting and sketching go hand in hand for me. I’m not sure I could choose one over the other. And I’m pretty average at them both. “

  “Says the girl who earned a scholarship to Canada’s premier art school.”

  “But scored at the bottom of her class,” Alice insisted.

  The need to check her ring finger was unbearable, but pride wouldn’t let him get caught in something so obvious. “I saw your work in a couple issues of Children’s Hour,” he said, over the rim of his cup. “It’s good stuff.”

  Actually, he’d clipped it and stored it in an envelope with various other mementos of the past. Crazy sounding now that he thought about it, kind of stalkerish. Would Alice think so?

  “That was my first freelance piece,” she said, wiping her hands on a napkin. “Before that I worked for a greeting card company. But i
t got too boring, too comfortable. Freelance is so much more adventurous. You never know what might be around the corner.”

  Like the guy you almost married once, but didn’t? He wanted to say it out loud but figured there was no better way to kill the stream of conversation. Instead, he cleared his throat and asked the burning question. “Do you, uh, have a family, now?”

  “No.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The nervous “tell” he remembered from their school days. “Since you don’t wear a ring, I’m guessing the answer’s the same for you.”

  “Good guess.” He pushed his now lukewarm coffee to the side.

  “But you’re seeing someone?”

  The question seemed casual, yet managed to send his heart into a spiral motion nonetheless. For a moment, he didn’t know how to answer. And then the words seem to pop from his mouth before he could pre-approve them. “Oh, you know, here and there. Dinners, trips to the park, a concert or two. It hasn’t gotten too serious yet, but life can change in a heartbeat, right?”

  Alice nodded, a half-hearted smile curving her lips. “Yeah. In a heartbeat.”

  ****

  What was I thinking?

  Jamie cringed at the memory of those words, his foolish need to maintain an air of mystery and cool indifference. As if he could pull such a cosmopolitan, casual move. She’d probably seen right through it.

  A pair of mallard ducks rippled the nearby waters, chasing after crumbs that park visitors tossed in. Jamie lowered his pencil and gazed at the faint etchings he’d made. A sweeping magnolia, lush grass, a cloudless sky. Still nothing but a skeletal frame for what he had in mind. He sighed and flipped the notebook shut.

  Bundling pencils together with a rubber band, he added them to the contents of his shoulder bag and checked his watch. One o’clock. In half an hour, he would know whether he and Alice would continue sharing the same artistic goals and visions, with the possibility of something more in the future. Or whether their paths would diverge, this time for good.

  Ghosts Of Romances Past

  24

  “You’re late.”

  Alice flushed under her business partner’s teasing accusation, as she rushed through the doors of Café au Lait. One-thirty had come and gone as she grappled with buried memories. Praying for the strength to move forward with her life, to embrace the possibility of happy-ever-after.

  “Sorry, Jamie,” she said, pulling out the chair across from his. “I sort of lost track of time. I hope I didn’t ruin your surprise.“ She tucked her hands beneath the table, concealing her own surprise. A sparkling square cut diamond.

  “It’s OK.” Jamie grinned, and yanked his shoulder bag from the back of the chair. “You took some of the steam out of it, but it’s still pretty exciting. Brace yourself, Ali.”

  She stared in silence as he placed a stack of stapled papers in front of her. Her gaze took in the familiar Storyhour Books symbol, the paragraphs of legal jargon.

  “It’s a contract. A year-long contract.” He leaned across the table, his brown gaze locking her own. “It’s a whole line of creations for kids. Pictures, greeting cards, storybooks, paper dolls, you name it. Pretty incredible, huh?”

  “Um…” She pressed her forehead, aware the sharp pain had returned. Just a headache, of course. A lingering side effect of three very emotional days.

  But Jamie misinterpreted her reaction. “Kind of leaves you speechless, doesn’t it? I know you’ve taken up watercolors again, but you had so much fun with the circus series I thought maybe…” He trailed off as his gaze settled on the diamond ring, the cocky smile on his face melting into a look of surprise.

  Neither of them spoke as the waitress approached, pen in hand, to take Alice’s order and offer Jamie a refill. Grateful for the breather, Alice ruffled the pages of the Storyhour contract. Her eyes drank in the details, the endless creative possibilities for an imaginative illustrator. But she couldn’t possibly tackle something this big and start married life at the same time.

  In the silence that followed the waitress’s departure, Jamie gave a long, sharp exhale, then leaned back in his chair and offered Alice a weak smile. “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks,” she whispered. “But it’s not official. Not yet. I’m going to answer him tonight.”

  “And I’m pretty sure I know what the answer will be. He’s one lucky guy. I hope he knows it.”

  A flush spread across her cheeks and neck. “I know it seems kind of sudden,” she said, wishing they could stop talking about this as soon as possible. Because the sooner he knew, the sooner she could move on to another equally dangerous topic.

  Jamie snorted. “Two years isn’t sudden, Ali. Trust me, you haven’t rushed into anything.”

  A dull ache filled her temples. Now was the time to explain about the contract, something she knew would come off like a traitor. Already, it killed her to say ‘no’ to the sweetest gesture anyone ever made on behalf of her artwork.

  “Jamie…” She slid the contract to the middle of the table, keeping her grip on it as she talked. “I’m thinking of taking some time off from work. I mean, things are going to be kind of crazy for a while. Wedding plans and the honeymoon and family stuff.”

  “I see.” His tone was cool, his gaze shifting to the table next to them. “Are we talking a couple of months or what?” He drummed his fingers against the table.

  “I’m not sure. And that’s why I can’t sign this, as great as it is. Believe me, I want to.” She drew a breath, rushing to finish before her courage expired. “It wouldn’t be fair to you if I was too busy to hold up my end of the deal. You need someone focused on the art form, someone in tune with the project.”

  “So that’s it.” His voice dropped as the waitress placed Alice’s coffee on the table. “Our partnership expires with the next deadline.”

  “But not our friendship,” she insisted, panic building inside, along with the desperate sense that the past was repeating itself in the form of a painful goodbye.

  His jaw clenched. “So was this break your idea or his?”

  “It’s nobody’s idea, Jamie.” She scrunched a napkin between her fingers. “It’s so I can spend some time with him, meet the rest of his family. Things that naturally come with marriage.”

  “But we’re talking about your artwork,” Jamie argued. “Not just a nine-to-five job here. It’s a part of who you are. Are you sure you can walk away from that?”

  “It’s just a little break. And Warren promised to take time off, too.”

  “So you can play tennis,” Jamie reminded her. “Something I’m pretty sure you hate.”

  “I don’t hate it. I’m just bad at it. It’s not the same thing.” Her voice was laced with irritation and louder than it should have been.

  “I suppose if you’re happy, it doesn’t matter.” He ran a hand through his hair and let out a long breath. “It won’t kill me to go back to being a hack for any artist who needs a digital design.”

  “Go back to being a painter, instead.” She touched his arm despite the eye roll he offered this statement. “You have a tremendous gift and you’re wasting it. Maybe this is part of God’s plan to get you to see that.”

  But her words weren’t convincing to herself, much less Jamie.

  He pulled away. “We’ve been over this, remember? I like the work I do and it pays the bills. What’s the problem with that?”

  “The boy I remember from art school loved his work,” she said. “It wasn’t something he would give up easily. People would commission your gift if you gave them the chance.”

  His shoulders hunched as he fingered his coffee cup. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I’m done painting for now and that’s it. End of discussion.”

  For a moment, they had nothing to say. There was no excitement for the future, just a painful sense of separation. She felt as if their lives were so intertwined that they could never fully pull apart again without damage. Like vines climbing the same arbor.


  “I’m sorry,” he said, after a moment. “I didn’t mean to be so harsh.”

  “You don’t have to apologize. We always push each other’s buttons, don’t we? I guess we can’t escape it after all this time.”

  He offered her a tired smile. “There’s nowhere else for us to go.” Pulling out his billfold, he motioned for the waitress.

  God, this isn’t right. He can’t just leave like this. Her mind raced for words, afraid to let him walk out. What if this was the last conversation they shared as friends? The thought was so unbearable it took her breath away.

  “The mural on the wall is new, isn’t it?” He jerked his head in the direction of the space behind him. “It sort of reminds me of that art school project from the summer institute.”

  She followed his gaze, expecting to admire the same kind of bold colors and strokes that defined their long-ago collaboration. But what caught her eye was anything but the artist’s talented vision.

  A woman with red hair was seated in an armchair in the corner lounge. Her fiery tresses were piled high in an elegant pompadour above her lavender dress. So still and solemn in appearance, she might as well be part of the scenery amidst the lively bustle of customers.

  It’s happening again.

  “Ali? You Ok?” Jamie was staring at her open-mouthed shock with raised eyebrows. He reached for her hand and pressed her fingers. “You look pale. Really pale. Let me get you some water.”

  She closed her mouth, discovering it had gone dry. “No, don’t. I don’t need anything.” Her gaze slid from his face to the wall behind him. Nothing there except a woman reading to her twin toddlers from a storybook.

  “Are you sure?”

  She nodded. “I’m fine; the doctor said so.” Her voice trembled despite the reassurance, palms sweating. Another pain stabbed her head, making her place her fingers against it.

  Jamie scooted his chair back. “I’m getting that water. Don’t move.”