by Beth K. Vogt
“Are you saying you don’t love me?”
“I do love you—but not in the way I should—or the way you want me to. Not enough to marry you. And I love you enough not to let you marry me, either.”
The can of soda almost slipped from her hands. As if in slow motion, Vanessa set it on the coffee table that was covered with an odd assortment of magazines. “You’re breaking our engagement—here? Now?”
“Yes, I guess I am.” He offered her a half smile. “Ironic, isn’t it?”
Was the man actually finding humor in this?
And what was she supposed to do? Argue with him when he was saying she was right—breaking up with her using her very words to do it?
Vanessa twisted the diamond around her finger before slipping it off—the ring that fit so perfectly now that it was resized—and held it out to him.
“I guess this belongs to you.”
Ted hesitated. “Do you want to keep it?”
“No. No, it’s an engagement ring—and there’s no longer an engagement, is there?” She covered one hand with the other. At least she and Ted could handle this themselves. No need for lawyers. No need to sign papers.
Ted didn’t even look at the ring. “You understand . . .”
“Yes. Of course.”
After all, she’d given him all the reasons to break off their engagement.
The door to the lounge opened and a nurse looked inside. “Dr. Topliff, we have an admission—a fifty-five-year-old male with chest pain.”
Vanessa stood. No need to draw things out. “You need to go.”
“Yes. Looks like it’s going to be a busy night.” He slipped the ring into the pocket of his dress shirt beneath his lab coat. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For realizing we both deserve more than what we had with each other.”
“Oh. That.” She waved his comment aside. “You’re welcome.”
Vanessa stepped back. A hug seemed out of place. Ted needed to go to work. And she, well, she needed to leave. Go home.
Whatever that meant.
TWENTY-FIVE
I think if I’ve learned anything about friendship, it’s to hang in, stay connected, fight for them, and let them fight for you. Don’t walk away, don’t be distracted, don’t be too busy or tired, don’t take them for granted. Friends are part of the glue that holds life and faith together. Powerful stuff.
—JON KATZ (1947– ), AMERICAN JOURNALIST AND AUTHOR
She’d asked Mindy to be her matron of honor. To help her plan a wedding. Was it so wrong to ask her to unplan a wedding, too?
No matter what Mindy said, it was time to make the phone call and begin dismantling her beautiful, elegant Florida destination wedding. As usual, Mindy’s exuberance burst past Vanessa’s attempt at hello.
“Hey, Vanessa! You calling to tell me you want a puppy?”
At Mindy’s question, Vanessa couldn’t help but laugh. “Hello to you, too. And no, I do not want a puppy. Besides, haven’t Minion and his brothers and sisters found homes yet?”
“Yes, but we’ve got a new batch now. Only four this time.”
“You’re going to stop fostering puppies once the baby arrives, right?”
“Yes. This is our last litter.” Mindy breathed a sigh of relief. “So, why are you calling? Something to add to the matron-of-honor duty list?”
“Not exactly. I’m, um, calling to take a few things off your plate. A lot of things, actually.”
“Vanessa, I told you not to worry about me. Yes, I’m pregnant, but I’m perfectly capable of helping you with this wedding—”
“Ted broke up with me.”
Mindy’s chatter—so reminiscent of high school—ended. And then came the expected, “What did you say?”
“Ted broke up with me.” Vanessa turned her hand so that she could see her bare ring finger. “Soooo . . . you are hereby relieved of all matron-of-honor duties.”
It sounded as if Mindy was pacing around her house. “Why would that man not want to marry you?”
“I basically talked him out of it.”
“You did not!”
“Yes, I did.”
“Vanessa, you’re not making any sense. Why would you talk Ted out of marrying you?”
“Well, that wasn’t my intent . . . it just happened.” Vanessa sat on the couch and tried to gather her thoughts. “Let me save you from having to ask me twenty questions, okay? Ted and I realized we didn’t love each other enough to marry each other. He admitted he was more excited about the medical conference than the destination wedding.”
“He did not say that to you.”
“He did.”
“My new matron-of-honor duty is to find your ex-fiancé and smack the stupid right out of him.”
Again Mindy made her laugh. “It’s okay, Mindy. Really. Ted’s right—I’m right. We’re both right.” Vanessa finger-brushed her bangs. “We needed to call off the wedding.”
“And how are you doing with all this?”
“I’m fine. Maybe I’m meant to be alone. My first attempt at marriage failed. My second attempt didn’t even get me to the altar—which is for the best.”
“This question is going to come out of left field, so don’t hang up on me, okay?”
“Okay . . .”
“Have you prayed about any of this?”
“Prayed about . . . why are you asking me that, Mindy?”
“Fair enough question. I admit faith didn’t figure in my life much during college. Becoming a mom does funny things to you, Vanessa. I’ve been talking with Jett about what we believe—how do we want to raise our children? And then one of his coworkers invited us to church a few weeks ago.”
“And you went?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, I’ve always believed in God, you know that—just like you. It’s just that I kinda got lazy and acted like my faith wasn’t that important to me. But now, well, now I want to change that. Trying to figure out motherhood all on my own is kind of scary.”
Fine. If Mindy wanted to reconnect with God because she was having a baby, great.
“I know what you’re thinking.”
“Oh, yeah? Do pregnancy hormones make you a mind reader?”
“No, but I know you. And you think it’s fine for me to go back to church—but this has nothing to do with you.”
“It doesn’t.”
“What do you believe about God, anyway?”
“I believe he exists.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“You tell me. What else?”
“I believe he . . . he must not love me enough to let me have a lasting relationship.” Vanessa covered her mouth with her hand.
Where had those words come from?
“I didn’t mean that.”
“I think you did.”
“Look, Mindy, I was a military brat. We moved a lot. There wasn’t any way to have long-term friendships. And then my marriage ended in a divorce—more proof I don’t belong in a relationship. And now Ted quits on me before we even finish planning the wedding.”
“What about us? We’re friends, aren’t we?”
“You’re my friend—although I don’t know why. It’s the most lopsided relationship I’ve ever known. I never call you. I never text. We hardly ever see each other—”
“We’re friends, because I like you, Vanessa. And because I want to be your friend. And yes, because I realized you needed a friend—a real friend. And I thought maybe I could be that for you.”
“But I’ve been a lousy friend all these years . . .”
“Yes, you have been.” Mindy’s laugh lightened her words. “But you know what? I’m okay with that. If that’s all you’ve got to put into this friendship—fine. But if you ever want to change things up a bit—call me, text me, IM with me on Facebook—I’m up for that, too.”
“How did we get from my wedding being canceled to talking about God and being better friends?”
“It�
�s what girlfriends do, Vanessa. Just go with it. So listen, about canceling the wedding, what do you want me to do?”
“Would you talk to the hotel wedding coordinator and the florist in Destin—cancel things for me?”
“Sure. Do you want me to contact the Henderson Park Inn, too?”
“No. I’ll handle that part since I put down a deposit.”
“Have you told your parents already?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“Let’s just say my mother handled it better than my elopement with Logan. Compared to my ‘worst mistake ever,’ a broken engagement is easier to accept. Plus, she’s dealing with my dad’s recovery right now.”
“You aren’t going to disappear again on me—now that you don’t need a matron of honor? I’ve liked being back in touch.”
Vanessa hesitated, but only for a moment. Maybe she could “change things up a bit,” like Mindy said. “I won’t disappear. We’ll just talk about you having a baby instead of me getting married.”
“And who knows? Maybe I’ll convince you to take one of these puppies.”
TWENTY-SIX
Absence sharpens love, presence strengthens it.
—THOMAS FULLER (1608–1661), ENGLISH HISTORIAN
Vanessa should have called to check on the Wrights sooner.
But she’d allowed all of the . . . the commotion with Logan and Ted to distract her. She wasn’t going to label it heartbreak—because her heart wasn’t broken over Logan. Or Ted. She was stronger than that.
After all those years of moving—helping her parents pack up the house and then unpacking their clothes, their kitchen stuff, watching her mother and father arrange their furniture in a new house, in a new city—she realized something. Something vital and important. She knew how to say hello. How to say goodbye. She just didn’t know how to do any of the relationship in between.
Thinking she could marry Ted and make the relationship work, make it last, had been foolish.
It had all been too easy with Ted. Too safe.
And when she’d gone back to Florida and run into Logan again, somehow, some way, she’d gotten caught up in the excitement that surrounded Logan. The façade of “for old times’ sake.”
But she wouldn’t make that mistake again—she was steering clear of both easy and excitement when it came to men. She’d emailed the wedding coordinator and canceled the “just in case” wedding for next April, requesting her deposit back. So far, her bank account remained the same, but things like that took time. For now, she’d focus on today—not the wedding that wasn’t going to happen—and check on Mrs. Wright to make sure the older couple was getting settled in their new home.
Of course, she didn’t know where their new home was—or if they were still staying with their daughter. Thankfully, she’d stored Ruth’s cell phone number in her iPhone.
“Hello?”
“Ruth? This is Vanessa Hollister. I’m a friend of your parents—we met after Hurricane Cressida . . .”
“Oh, yes. I remember.” There was a slight pause. “I’m glad you called. I wasn’t sure how to reach you.”
Why would the Wrights’ daughter want to reach her—and why did her voice sound so tenuous?
“Is everything okay? Is your father doing well?”
“My father’s fine.” Another pause—longer this time.
A chill snaked its way up Vanessa’s spine. “Your mother . . . ?”
A tremulous sigh, choked with unshed tears, preceded Ruth’s words. “My mother had a stroke . . . a few days after she came here.”
Vanessa’s fingers tightened around the phone. “How bad?”
“She went upstairs to rest one afternoon, saying she was tired. I—I didn’t think anything about it.” The woman’s voice wavered. “Mom didn’t recover. Her . . . funeral was four days ago.”
Vanessa closed her eyes. “No . . .”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t have your phone number, so I couldn’t reach you—the only thing I knew was that you didn’t live in Florida. My mother talked about you quite a bit while she was here. She said you were like a granddaughter to her.”
“She and your father were . . . are two of the nicest people I know.” Vanessa stood, unmoving, in the center of her apartment. Mrs. Wright was gone. Dead. “I met them when I was eighteen—the new girl in town. Again.”
“I remember hearing about you back then. You moved a lot growing up?”
“In a military family, it’s what you do.” Vanessa pressed her fingers against her lips, holding back a sob. “I used to drink lemonade on their porch—me and my boyfriend.”
“Logan, right? My dad mentions him a lot.”
“And the motorcycle, right?”
Finally a hint of laughter tinged the other woman’s voice. “Yes.”
“Does your father understand . . . understand . . .” Vanessa’s voice wavered. Broke.
“Some days I don’t think so. And then others . . . yes.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I’m trying to remember what my mom always told me.”
“What’s that?”
“That God knows what he’s doing, even when life doesn’t make sense to us. It helped her these past few years as she lost my father to the stronghold of dementia.” There was silence on the other end of the phone for a few seconds. A sniffle. “I always thought my father would die before my mom. That seemed kinder . . . easier. But it’s not the way it worked out. I miss my mother terribly—and I’m only a few days into this. And I’m scared for my father. How long will he live like this? He’s only going to get worse.”
Vanessa listened. Nothing she could say would ease the other woman’s recent loss—or her ongoing one.
“I try to be like my mom. To trust God in all of this. Some mornings I wake up with the smallest bit of trust . . . of hope—nothing more. But it’s a start.”
“Will you tell your father that Vanessa . . . and Logan send their love?”
“Yes, I will. I know that will make him happy.”
When she got off the phone, Vanessa crawled into her bed, pulling the covers up to her shoulders, trying to get warm.
Could she also trust God about where she was? Alone—again. She hadn’t moved . . . but it was as bad as being the new girl in town. No one really knew her. No one cared. She shifted beneath the blankets. Yes, there was Mindy, but she was all the way back in Niceville—with her husband and baby-to-be.
Could she ask God to increase what little faith she had? Could she find some way to believe he would accomplish what concerned her? Her future—even when it made no sense?
Can you see me, God? Can you find me . . . and be enough when I feel so alone?
TWENTY-SEVEN
There is nothing wrong with making mistakes. Just don’t respond with encores.
—AUTHOR UNKNOWN
How ironic that she didn’t know Logan’s address. Didn’t know where he lived in Oklahoma.
She gathered the cardboard box, bubble wrap, the roll of packing tape, and the scissors from her dining room table, carrying them back to her bedroom and dumping it all on top of her bedspread. This was the last thing she needed to do to erase Logan Hollister from her life.
The six Royal Doulton figurines still stood on the bookshelves, as if frozen in time. Lovely ladies, one and all, in long gowns. Some wearing dress gloves. Some with bonnets with bows. All with smiles—knowing or coquettish or shy.
Which statue should she wrap up first?
Why not the lady all in white—the very first figurine Logan had given her for Christmas when they had just started dating?
“What . . . what is this?” Vanessa held the beautiful china lady, tracing the outline of the red ribbons adorning her bonnet.
Logan couldn’t stop smiling. “It’s a Royal Doulton figurine. My grandmother collected them—and this one was one of her favorites.”
“This was your grandmother’s?” Vanessa turned the figurine around, studying it from all ang
les.
“Yes, a few of them somehow survived the tornado. A miracle, my grandfather said. But don’t worry. I asked my mother if I could give it to you, and she said yes.” His hand rested on hers. “Do you like it?”
“She’s beautiful, Logan. Absolutely beautiful.”
And the figurine was exquisite—too lovely, too valuable for Vanessa to keep. Something irreplaceable like this belonged in Logan’s family. And she was no longer a part of that. She should have sent them back to Logan right after their divorce, but she’d forgotten all about the figurines. That oversight wasn’t going to continue.
Vanessa wrapped the statue in two layers of bubble wrap, sealing it with tape. She did the same with each of the other five figures. Then she lined the bottom of the box with bubble wrap and placed the statues inside.
Almost done.
The wooden box containing Logan’s class ring and her white-gold wedding band went into the box next, nestled among the bubble-wrapped figurines. Then she sealed the box shut with packing tape.
Now all she had to do was to figure out where to send the package.
Mindy to the rescue—again.
But for once, Mindy didn’t answer her phone. Of course, the woman deserved a life of her own. She wasn’t waiting around to rescue Vanessa whenever she had a problem. She’d leave a voice message and go on with life—normal, everyday life.
“Hey, my friend. It’s Vanessa. Would you call me back when you get a moment? I need Logan’s sister’s address, if you’ve got it. Or his parents’ address—although that would be my last resort. Thanks.”
Now all she had to do was wait.
Again.
She placed the box on the top shelf of her closet, shoving it all the way to the back. Until she heard back from Mindy, she wasn’t going to trip over the thing.
• • •
Logan set his plate of microwave lasagna on the table beside his couch. Not just like his mother made—but he was hungry and this was easy.
He took a couple of quick bites, grimacing when one bite was too hot and another was still cold in the middle. He set the dish aside, powering up his laptop. Time to work on his résumé so he could continue pursuing job options, post-Stormmeisters.
