Moments We Forget

by Beth K. Vogt

  “What happened?”

  “When we came back that night, we ate the German chocolate cake Nonie had made him—it was his favorite.” Retelling Geoff the memory burned my throat. “I kept thinking they’d bring out my cake. Kept waiting. Nothing. When we were getting ready to leave, I snuck back into the kitchen . . .”

  “Did you find your cake?”

  “Yes. It was in the trash.”

  “Oh, Jill—”

  “I mean, why did I ever think he’d eat my cake? It shouldn’t matter after all these years . . . I’m an adult . . . but it seems like I can never get away from being ‘just Jillian.’ I’m stuck in the middle . . . and whatever I do just isn’t good enough.”

  Geoff pulled me closer. “You’re not ‘just Jillian’ to me—you never have been. I love you because of who you are. And I’m sorry I hurt you the other day. That I didn’t value you.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not okay. Forgive me?”

  “I do.”

  Memories and tears now stained the day, even as I sat in my husband’s embrace. It seemed, more and more, life was a precarious balance of yesterday and today—and I had no idea what tomorrow would bring. Or how to prepare for it. How to be enough.

  THE RUMBLE OF ZACH’S TRUCK, the crunch of the tires on the gravel driveway, preceded his arrival.

  Payton leaned against the back of her car, hoping to achieve a relaxed look. Casual. Boots. Jeans. Winter coat. Beanie hat pulled over her hair. But trying to appear calm was absurd, since she hadn’t seen him since before Thanksgiving—and now she’d shown up, after nothing but a text, at his cabin.

  Five weeks of separation—no phone calls, no coffee get-togethers, no meeting for church, no anything—and she’d missed him every single day. Went to sleep longing for him—the sound of his voice, his laughter, his questions about her classes and her volleyball team—and woke up some mornings with the dream of their last conversation creating an ache inside her that lasted all day long. She wouldn’t have blamed him if he’d ignored her when she contacted him yesterday morning. Deleted her “Can we talk?” text without responding. But this was Zach, and he understood her better than anyone else ever had.

  He pulled the truck up alongside her Subaru, the glimpse of his profile causing a fresh ache to rise up inside her. By the time his boots hit the ground, she was on the other side of the truck.

  “How long have you been here?” His question appeared in small white puffs.

  “Not long. I know your Sunday morning routine.”

  “You were welcome to join me . . .” Zach tucked his hands into his jeans pockets. “You know that. Sorry.”

  “I do.” She offered him a smile, trying to bridge the distance between them. “It was just that I had a long Saturday—some private lessons—and then I was up late last night, trying to finish up some things . . .”

  “No problem.”

  He probably thought she was offering him excuses.

  “Go for a walk with me?” She nodded toward the field and wooded area behind her.

  If her request surprised him, Zach didn’t let on. “Sure. Can we take Laz?”

  “I already let him out. He’s off running around.” She shrugged. “Hope that’s okay. He was barking like crazy.”

  “One of his favorite people was here—what did you expect him to do?”

  Payton motioned toward the house. “You need to put anything in the cabin first?”

  “I’m good.” He shut the truck door, pocketing his keys.

  Neither of them spoke as they left the cabin behind. The midmorning air was crisp and clean, and areas of leftover snow sparkled in the sunshine. They both headed toward Pepper’s bench without either of them acknowledging their destination. In some ways, today was like returning to the beginning of their relationship—back when Payton had resisted Zach’s first invitation to see the bench he’d made in honor of her twin sister’s memory. Now, it was one of her favorite places to be . . . with him.

  They’d both tucked their hands in their coat pockets, a light breeze tugging Payton’s hair beneath the cap. Zach’s arms were pulled up close against his body as if he were protecting himself.

  “How’ve you been, Payton?”

  “I wanted to tell you—”

  Their words ended up in a tangle of awkward bursts of laughter.

  “Before we do the ‘You go first. No, you go first’ thing, can I just say that I’d like to go first?” Payton rushed ahead.

  “Okay.”

  “I’ve done a lot of thinking since we saw each other in November. I even had a bit of an interesting conversation with Jillian—”

  “She did talk with you, then?”

  “Yes, although I didn’t know you’d told her to until I suggested she talk with you.” This time they laughed, easing some of the tension between them. “Did she talk to you again?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, well, maybe she’s planning on it.” The conversation was drifting off course. “I even talked with Sydney . . . but mostly I’ve been thinking since the last time I saw you. A lot.”

  “Has the talking and thinking helped?”

  “Well, I don’t think my conversation with Jillian helped her very much.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I’m certain about that, Zach. You can’t answer someone else’s questions when you’re still struggling with your own.”

  Zach nodded but remained silent.

  “That’s what it’s been like for most of the time we’ve been apart. Trying to figure out who I am and what I believe. Why I believe.”

  “I’ve been . . .” Zach caught himself. “Go ahead. I promise to not interrupt again.”

  He was probably going to say he’d been praying for her. He had been for months—nothing would have stopped him.

  “I’ll start with Pepper.” The threat of tears surprised her. “The truth is, I can imagine my life without Pepper. I mean, I’ve done that for years now. I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing her, but I’ve learned to be me without Pepper. More successfully, now that I’ve told my family the truth.”

  She paused, waiting to see if Zach wanted to comment.

  Nothing.

  “And . . . I can even imagine life without you—although it would break my heart in a way I can’t even begin to express.”

  Zach stumbled. Regained his footing. “I get it, Payton. I understand.”

  She’d known telling him this way would confuse him, but she didn’t know any other way to help him understand what she’d discovered.

  He kept walking, his boots crunching on the sticks and dried ground, refusing to look at her.

  And she had to tell him the whole truth.

  “Zach, let me finish, please. It’s important for me to tell you everything.”

  “Fine.” His voice was rough as if he was fighting a cold. His eyes red-rimmed. “I owe you that.”

  “So Pepper . . . you . . . but after living most of my life without God, now I can’t imagine continuing that way. I’m not even sure how it happened. It’s as if God’s been walking alongside me for months now. As if He’s been saying, ‘Take your time, Payton. No rush. You’ve got questions? Ask them. This isn’t a test. I’m only asking you one question—if you believe in Me for Me. We can figure out the particulars along the way.’”

  Zach stopped walking. Turned to face her. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying I know what I believe about God. I know that I do believe in God. And I believe—just for me. Not because I have to make Pepper happy. Not because I love you.” Payton held her hands out, palms up. “For me, faith has been more like a slow walk toward the sunrise. Me moving toward God . . . and God moving toward me. Asking questions. Reading books. Talking with you. Watching you. Going to church. Even my friendship with Sydney that started back in high school was part of it.”

  “So you and God . . . you’re good?”

  “Completely good. The best we’
ve ever been.”

  She knew she didn’t have to explain herself to Zach—make sure he approved of where she was or how this all came about. This wasn’t about satisfying Zach. It was about sharing the truth with him . . . the truth that changed everything for her.

  And for them.

  Zach’s eyes filled with tears as he pulled her close. Payton wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head against his chest and treasuring his nearness, something she was afraid she’d lost. But too soon, he held her away from him, resting his forehead against hers.

  “Not to be pushy or anything, but where does all of this leave us?”

  “I love you, Zach Gaines.” She framed his face with her hands, his jaw rough beneath her fingertips. “I fell in love with you as I was falling in love with God. The two are intertwined. I thought that was wrong . . . that I couldn’t be falling in love with you and finding my way to God at the same time. But now I realize I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  His kiss took her breath away, his lips cool against hers, his hands stealing up so that his fingers tangled in the ends of her hair. “I love you, Payton. I’ve wanted to tell you that for so long.”

  “Kiss me again, please.” She whispered the words, their lips close. “That was even better than I dreamed.”

  AN APOLOGY WAS NOT the best way to start her third meeting with Dr. Miller. But since she was showing up a good ten minutes late, based on the last time she’d checked her phone, there was nothing else she could do.

  Johanna could have postponed the meeting. Called in sick. Struggling to sleep the last ten days had left her pale, with dark circles under her eyes. Any cover-up attempts only seemed to highlight her exhaustion.

  “I’m sorry for not being here on time.” Johanna pulled out the chair across from Dr. Miller, motioning for him to remain seated.

  “It happens, Johanna.” His eyes narrowed. “Do you want to get some coffee?”

  “No. Thank you. I forgot mine at home.”

  “Not a fan of the café coffee?”

  “No. Not really.” He was probably trying to make a joke. She hadn’t laughed and couldn’t force even a small smile to form with her tight lips. “I like French press with fresh-ground beans and real cream. My sisters say I’m a coffee snob.”

  “And my wife says I’d drink mud if she set it in front of me.”

  Another joke. At least she’d caught on this time. Had the chance to laugh. And without meaning to, she’d provided her boss with more personal information. That should make him happy.

  Of course he had the book. Again. Her copy was somewhere at home. She could tell him that she’d reread it. Even underlined more parts of it because she knew he’d wanted her to.

  Or she could tell him the truth.

  If she was going down, she’d go down telling the truth.

  “Dr. Miller . . . Axton.” Should she be formal or informal with him when she was being blunt? “The leadership book you asked me to read? I suppose if I owned the Broncos or ran Anheuser-Busch, I’d buy into the positive-leadership philosophy more. But when it comes to running hospital pharmacies, I’m more a ‘know the rules, follow the rules, pay attention to the details’ kind of person.”

  “Casual conversation over, I see.” He slid his cup to the side of the table. “So you’re saying that you don’t see the benefit of developing strong relationships, of ensuring good communication?”

  “You may think you’ve built a strong relationship and discover you haven’t. That’s why I value structure and rules.”

  She and the man across from her could be talking about two very different things and not even be aware of it. Sitting so close and be miles apart. And they were—he just didn’t know it.

  Johanna tucked her hands in her lap, shielding the now-bare ring finger on her left hand. No need to give her boss a clue that something was wrong. This was business. Not personal. Business.

  “And love?”

  She couldn’t have heard him correctly. “What was that?”

  “I assume you don’t agree with the author’s principle on loving tough. The need to love someone enough to work with them—to fight for them.”

  “The author sounds like a self-help guru.”

  “You do acknowledge that employees are people, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, there’s something we agree on.” He grinned. “Common ground at last.”

  Her cell phone buzzed right as Dr. Miller declared that minor victory. A quick glance proved it was Beckett. Again.

  Johanna, call me. Please.

  “Do you need to answer that?”

  “No. It’s not important.” She slid her phone back into the pocket of her white lab coat. “You were saying?”

  “Johanna, I was hoping for something different this morning.”

  Welcome to the club, Dr. Miller. You’re not the only one dealing with disappointment.

  He wanted something different? Fine.

  “I can save us both a lot of time and energy.” The back of her throat burned. “I . . . I quit.”

  She might as well be back at home, in her bedroom, staring at Beckett’s phone screen just before she shattered it. Only this time, her actions—not someone else’s—were destroying her future. It didn’t matter. Dr. Miller was probably counting down the days until he fired her. At least she’d beat him to it. Quitting like this left her in charge.

  But instead of accepting her resignation, he stared at her, brows furrowed. And then, “What’s going on, Johanna?”

  “What’s going on? The last time we met, you wanted to know if we could work together. You asked me to prove I could change. You’re all about team and positive leadership and . . . and love.” She forced the word past her lips. “I want things to be efficient. Black and white. I’m not interested in changing.”

  “What else is going on?”

  “Besides the fact that I just told you I quit? Nothing.”

  He sat back, staring at her and doing the not-blinking thing again. “You look upset about something. Is everything okay with your family? Your fiancé?”

  Oh no. They were not going there.

  “Dr. Miller, you are my boss, not my friend or my mental health counselor. We are talking about work-related issues, not about things that are wrong with my personal life—not that I’m saying there are problems with my personal life.”

  “Fine. I’m your boss.” He rapped his knuckles on the top of the wood table. “And I’m ending this conversation because I do think there’s something personal going on that you don’t want to talk about. You are too valuable an employee to lose because you are not thinking clearly.”

  Johanna tried to keep up. Tried to process everything he was saying. Now she understood how Jillian must feel every day. “You’re not accepting my resignation?”

  “No, I’m not. We haven’t worked together that long, but I know enough about you to know you are not a quitter.” He pushed his chair back. Stood. “I’m taking some time off between Christmas and the beginning of January. We’ll talk after then. I’ll contact you.”

  “But—”

  “That’s all for today, Johanna. I would tell you to take the day off, but I also know you’d probably argue with me. If you want to, take a half day.”

  And with those words, he left her sitting at the table.

  Was everyone in the room watching them? Watching her? All she wanted to do was lay her head down on the table and, for once, let the tears fall—in public. But instead, she stiffened her shoulders. Stared straight ahead. Waited for her heart to settle back into a regular rhythm. Then she stood and exited the café, ignoring everyone else in the room.

  As she passed an atrium located near the staff café, the soft notes of piano music caught her attention. For a moment, she stopped. Who would be playing a piano? The slight form of an older woman wearing a pale-blue pantsuit sat at the grand piano positioned in the atrium—where hospital volunteers sometimes performed during the day to en
tertain, to lift the spirits of patients and visitors . . . of employees, too.

  Soft winter sunshine streamed down through the windows, surrounding the piano and the player in a golden glow. Johanna escaped into a shadowed corner and closed her eyes, exhaling as the music found its mark.

  It was as if the woman offered her a cup of water, lifting the glass to her parched lips and whispering, “Drink . . . drink.” How she longed to lean in, to accept what the woman offered. What she’d missed. To let each chord touch the dry fragments of her soul.

  There’d been no music in her life for so long.

  For a moment longer, Johanna stood with her eyes closed. And then she shook her head as if to dispel the pull of the music and walked away.

  “THANKS FOR LETTING ME drop by on short notice.” Payton slipped off her coat, a light dusting of snowflakes spread across the dark material and the layers of her hair.

  “It’s snowing?” I kept Winston snugged up in my arms, shushing his barks.

  “It just started. Hey there, good boy.” Payton ruffled Winston’s ears before hanging her coat in the closet. She bent over to pull off her boots. “That feels so good to have those off my feet. I much prefer my volleyball shoes.”

  “Are you driving back up to Denver tonight?”

  “Yes. It’s not supposed to snow that much, and I don’t worry about driving unless the roads get icy.”

  “Come on in.” I tightened my grip on Winston, who was now determined to jump into Payton’s arms. “You look nice.”

  “We had a Christmas party for the volleyball club tonight.” She tugged at the sleeves of her soft white sweater.

  “Sounds fun.”

  “It was. It’s a chance for the girls to hang out together, get to know each other a little bit before the season starts in January.” Payton followed me through the living room, sidestepping past the childproof barriers surrounding the Christmas tree, and into the kitchen. “I remember doing the same thing when Pepper and I were in club together. We always knew a couple of the girls, but some were from competing high schools.”