by Laura Briggs
“It’s all right,” she answered, with a reassuring smile. The more private this conversation remained, the better. After two years together, she hated to end it this way, in an elegant restaurant on Valentine’s Day. But then, she hadn’t picked the setting, and she couldn’t change the outcome. Not after what she realized today, with MaryAnne’s story before her eyes.
The waiter approached and handed her a red and gold folder with a bow. “Your menu, madam,” he said, before moving on to the next table.
She didn’t open it, laying it next to her plate instead. Best not to put off the answer, no matter how unpleasant. “I’m sorry these last few days were so chaotic,” she began, her fingers toying with the silverware. “I must have seemed pretty distracted.”
Warren gave her a smile. “Never mind. We have this whole evening to catch up, so don’t let it worry you.” He reached into his pocket, withdrew his cell phone, and turned it off. A subtle reminder of how serious this occasion was meant to be.
Her courage dipped a little with the gesture. Give me strength to do this, Lord. You’ve carried me this far. Help me to end it the right way.
“Are you sure you’re a hundred percent better?” Warren asked, searching her face. “You seem a little pale. I think you should make another doctor’s appointment this week.”
“Actually, I’m feeling much better now, much clearer. About everything,” she added, forcing herself to hold his gaze.
“Maybe you just need that trip to Denmark we talked about.” He smiled and glanced at her hand. Surprise flickered over his features at the sight of her empty ring finger. “Time’s up, you know. It’s been three days.”
“I know.” Her voice trembled, as she wrapped her fingers around the jewelry box inside her pocket. “I realize I should’ve answered you before now, but this wasn’t easy for me.”
Confusion passed over his face. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, then slipped the box from her coat pocket.
He stared at her blankly as she laid it next to his hand. After a moment, he cleared his throat. “Alice…I don’t understand. Everything was on track. We were ready to make the final commitment.”
“But we weren’t,” she answered. “Not like we should have been. It’s something I realized about us these past three days. That we have a good relationship and care for each other…but not enough to build a lifetime together.”
“Don’t say that,” he answered. “I love you. We were happy together.”
“We were happy with our lives the way they were,” she said. With a gentle hand, she touched his fingers. “That’s why we’ve been stuck so long in one spot. We were both changing who we really are to fit together. Like pieces from two different puzzles trying to make a picture. Only we left out all the pieces that were most important.”
“Is this about your art?” He fingered the jewelry box, his eyes flashing with questions. “Was it my job that was holding us back? If there’s something we need to change then tell me. “
“I-it’s about the watercolors and freelance illustrations,” she stammered, struggling to find the words. “It’s about the tennis balls and sales proposals and all the things we’ll never understand about each other.”
“But we were trying,” he argued, placing his other hand over hers. “You’re exploring new potential with painting and water colors; I’m taking time off from work. And I’ll even skip some of the conferences, if it’ll help.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want you to change who you are to be with me. That kind of sacrifice should come as a gift, not because someone else demands it. It wouldn’t make either of us happy in the end.”
“I see.” He grew silent, as if considering the logic, then asked a question that made her heart stand still. “Does this mean…well, that you know someone else who is willing to make those sacrifices?”
How did she answer that? Yes, she had known someone like that once. But enough time and regret can change even the most devoted hearts.
“I made a mistake years ago.” Her voice cracked, a lump forming in her throat. “I gave my heart away, but not my hand. I can’t make you pay for that mistake now. Not when somewhere, there’s someone who’s meant to share your life in a way that I can’t.”
Releasing a long, low sigh, he slipped the jewelry box inside his coat pocket. “I’m sorry. Very sorry that you feel this way.”
“So am I.” She pressed his fingers tightly, then rose and gathered her coat and purse. Something like shock still lingered on his face, as she gave a long look. And who could blame him? After two years, her revelation seemed improbable. Even to herself, at this moment it seemed surreal that the last few days had changed her heart so dramatically.
“Take care of yourself.” Warren spoke without looking up at her.
“Goodbye. And thank you.” She leaned down and kissed his cheek.
“For what?”
“For letting me go.” She turned towards the stairs, resisting the urge to look back this time. She needed to let go of him completely, to set him free for whatever romance God had in store for his life. And as for her own? Well, that remained to be seen.
****
Moonlight glinted off the lake, as Alice hugged the gate to Willow Park. No wonder Jamie came here to think. Even in the darkness its beauty and calmness couldn’t be denied. The drizzle of rain had come and gone, leaving a cloudless night sky to frame the winter landscape.
Something small and hard pressed against her skin. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the familiar smooth jade stone. Her eyes closed and her mind went back to a different Valentine’s Day, twelve years ago. When a scared young girl set out to win back the boy whose love she abandoned in a moment of fear. Only to find he’d already gone.
I thought it was a sign Lord—a sign that we weren’t meant to be after all. And so I gave up hope. But everything I learned from these visions, these voices of the past, has led me straight back to him. Awakening feelings I thought were buried too deep to ever unearth.
Three lives, three lessons. And it took only three days for their stories to change the course of her own happiness. Helping her to understand that the question was not whether she should surrender her heart to commitment, but rather who she should commit to.
She slipped the ring onto her finger, a shiver passing through her frame at the touch of the metal. Jamie’s apartment was two blocks away; if she started walking now, she’d be there in fifteen minutes. But would he?
Doubt stirred inside her with the memory of his “mystery” appointment the day he met her at the ER. The lipstick-stained coffee mug she spied on his coffee table the night afterward. And the way he avoided answering even the slightest attempt to pry into his love life.
Would you have shown me all this if it were too late, Lord? I truly believe you led me to those letters and journals…but will Jamie believe I still love him? And could he possibly love me, after what I did to him all those years ago?
She sighed, aware there was only way to find out. Pulling at her coat, she turned and headed in the direction of Maple Street. To keep the date she’d made twelve Valentine’s Days ago.
32
Alice’s stiletto heels scraped against the pavement, as she hurried past partygoers returning home from theatres and restaurants. Mere yards remained between herself and the course of her future happiness. She would confront her own “ghost” and hopefully put it behind her forever.
Breathless, she pushed on the lobby door, praying it was unlocked. It opened without resistance, letting her into a dim foyer populated by mail slots and a garbage can. Three flights of stairs and she would be there.
Alice’s pace slowed, her heart drumming. She climbed to the third floor, passing rows of numbered doors, pausing in front of the one marked 307.
Numb from the cold, or maybe fear, she hesitated, her hand touching the knocker. Be brave one more time…just once more put your heart on the line.
No
light showed beneath the door and no sounds echoed from within. What if he wasn’t there? And instead was on a date with someone who shared the spark he was waiting for?
Alice pounded twice, praying he would answer. Nothing stirred behind the door, no flicker of light or movement. She knocked again, and then stepped back, breath held. Please be here. Please don’t let me be too late again.
Silence.
Heart sinking, she started to turn back towards the stairs, then froze, as a scraping noise reached her ears, the sound of a bolt being drawn back. The door opened and Jamie stared into her eyes.
His clothes were rumpled, his brown hair tousled in a way that suggested he’d fallen asleep. He stared at her with astonishment, as if he didn’t know whether he was dreaming or awake. “What are you doing here?”
She was aware how strange this must seem. Showing up at his door at nine o’clock at night when she was supposed to be celebrating her engagement to another man. “I-I’m sorry, Jamie. Were you asleep? I should’ve thought about the time.”
“No, it’s all right.” He ushered her inside, where only a corner lamp cast a soft glow across the room. “Weren’t you having dinner with Warren tonight? Is that over already?” He checked his watch as he closed the door.
“It is over,” she said, her voice cracking a little with the confession. “Everything. Between me and Warren.” This with a shy glance to test his reaction.
“What do you mean?” Jamie stared, his hand still on the doorknob. Confusion clouded his brown eyes, as well as something she couldn’t quite read. “When I saw you at the café, you had the ring on—”
“I gave it back,” she answered, keeping her hand tucked in her coat pocket as she spoke. “We weren’t right for each other. Something I couldn’t admit until now.”
“Wow.” He rubbed the back of his neck, a dazed expression on his face. The sound of the wind rustling the branches outside seemed to rouse him after a moment.
“You’re cold,” he said, touching the damp fabric of her coat. “Take that off and let me make you some coffee.” He moved to the kitchen and fumbled for the canister over the stove.
She draped the coat over the nearby rack and paced across his living room floor. There were sketches and newspapers littering the coffee table, a sofa draped with half-folded laundry. The covered easel still stood in front of the window, Jamie’s paints and palette piled nearby.
“So what happened, anyway?” Jamie called from the kitchen. “You seemed so confident after your doctor’s visit. All that stuff about your doubts—the visions—coming from the head injury.”
“I was wrong.” She hugged herself as goose bumps crept across her arms. “The tumble down the staircase triggered the visions, but they weren’t just side effects. More like signs. God’s way of saying I’m meant to be with someone else.”
The kitchen tap shut off abruptly. “What did you say?”
Spotting a piece of paper on the floor by the canvas, she bent to pick it up. And forgot to answer Jamie as she stared into her own face, eighteen years old, and smiling as if her fondest dreams had just come true. One of the images from the photo booth.
Before she knew it, her hand reached up and pulled the tarp from the canvas, revealing an image halfway complete in strokes of oil. A red-haired girl with a warm smile peered playfully from its surface. A face Alice had seen framed only by photographs and her mirror until this moment.
A sudden noise made her turn around. Jamie stood there, holding a cup of coffee. “You weren’t supposed to see it,” he said. His face was red, his eyes accusing and reproachful.
“Jamie…” She stared at the delicate brush strokes, the soft, rich colors. So perfect that it seemed to bring her smile to life in a way she had never seen. “It’s beautiful.”
“Yeah, well twelve years is a long time to spend on a canvas. I guess I had plenty of time to get it right.”
She closed her eyes, remembering those afternoon break sessions on the school lawn. The secret project Jamie wouldn’t let her see, his look of concentration with each brush stroke on the canvas.
“You kept working on it. Even after…after what I did to you?” She struggled to keep the tears from her voice, the rush of tenderness his devotion inspired.
By all rights, he should have held a grudge. Instead, he paid her the highest compliment an artist ever could.
He shrugged, a guarded look on his face. “Guess that cliché about artists being sentimental must be true.” Raw pain flashed in his eyes as they met hers. “You know, this is the only canvas I’ve worked on since we broke up. Sort of a vow I made. Kind of crazy, huh?”
“I don’t think so. And you’re not the only one who’s sentimental.”
Her fingers wrapped themselves around her left hand in a soft twisting motion. His eyes followed the movement to her ring finger, where the large jade stone shone in its silver setting.
“You still have it.” He inhaled sharply, then reached to touch the stone, as if to make sure it was real. “I-I thought you would’ve given it away or something.”
“I could never do that.” Her voice broke, a lump climbing her throat. “So I put it out of sight, thinking I could bury my feelings with it. But believe me, I never stopped regretting the moment I ran away from you. I even tried to tell you a few times—”
“Your letters,” Jamie interrupted, and his brown eyes grew wide with realization. “The ones I threw away. And the phone call I didn’t take.” He groaned and rubbed his face. “I was so stubborn, so full of pride.”
“Me too,” she said, a gentle smile tugging her mouth. “I let fear stop me from following my heart. Fear of disappointing others and maybe myself, too.” She reached up and touched his face. “But I didn’t want to say goodbye, not deep down. And I meant it when I said wouldn’t forget you.”
His dark eyes searched her gaze. “Are you…is this real?”
“Very real. I promise.”
He leaned in to her touch, his fingers covering her own. “I don’t believe in coincidences. When that job assignment brought you back in my life, I knew there was a reason. But I didn’t dare hope…”
Their faces were close now, a kiss apart. “I still love you, Jamie,” she said. “Please forgive me for taking so long to realize it.”
“Ali,” he whispered. He pressed his lips to hers, the touch of his mouth releasing a flood of old memories and feelings that swept through her with abandon.
She wrapped her arms around his neck in a passionate embrace, aching to make up for lost time.
Forgotten, the photo fluttered from her hands to the floor, the breeze sweeping it across the room like a butterfly in motion, past the smiling portrait whose gaze included two hearts united by its careful and colorful brush strokes.
Epilogue
The faces smiled from the mantelpiece in various moments of importance. Fragments of their lives captured and framed, from weddings and births to candid moments. Grandmother Ruth peering skyward in her garden hat; Aunt Phylis’s secretive smile and graceful pose.
In front was a photo of Alice, her arms wrapped around her fiancé’s neck, both wearing silly smiles. Only the photograph was old now, superseded by a long line of photos that crowded the front of the row. Alice in a white dress and veil. Jamie with his arm draped around a dark-eyed little boy whose head showed traces of his mother’s red curls. A Christmas postcard from Warren and his new bride, featuring a photograph of them smiling as they posed in an Italian vineyard. An image that gave Alice peace, knowing he had found his perfect match as well.
A large portrait occupied the space above the mantelpiece: a smiling young woman with red hair against a green backdrop. Alice had argued for her great-great grandmother’s portrait to hang there instead, but Jamie vetoed the idea.
“But I feel like I owe her,” Alice said. “She was the great romance of my family’s history, you know. Think of her as the one who inspired me to follow my heart.” This was said with a significant glance in the di
rection of the old-fashioned portrait, the carved wooden box on the table below.
“I know,” Jamie answered. “But everybody deserves their own love story. So I’m pretty sure the most prominent space in this room belongs to ours.” With that, he slid his arm around Alice’s shoulder and kissed her cheek.
Under the watchful eyes of images forever fixed in time, the ghosts of romance, past and present.
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