Ever After (32 page)

She smiled and looked to the most tender place in his heart, the place where the teenage Shane still lived. “And this year, you taught me something else. Real love lets you figure out the answers by yourself. It says good-bye for a season and prays for your return. Real love understands about love and sacrifice and is willing to live accordingly.” She held onto his hands tighter than before. “Shane, you’ve spent your life showing me what real love is. I understand now, and I promise to spend the rest of my life loving you like that.” She blinked back tears. “As long as we both shall live.”

From a few feet away, they both heard Emily stifle a squeal, and again there was laughter.

The pastor stepped closer and took the rings from Emily and Gary. He explained the significance of the unbroken circles, and the promise they would represent for all time. As Shane slipped the band of white gold onto her finger, she felt the greatest sense of rightness. Yes, her life was full before she found Shane again. She had a career and a purpose. But her life wasn’t complete until now.

The rings in place, the pastor nodded to Shane. “You may kiss your bride.”

He did so in a way that took her breath and made her anxious for every tomorrow they’d share together. Before they parted, before the pastor could present them as husband and wife, out of the corner of her eye, Lauren saw Emily close her eyes and lift her face skyward.

Their daughter was praying, no doubt. Thanking God, because no matter how hard the journey, they were here. Where they had always belonged. And this time no one and nothing would separate them until death intervened. The bridge to this place had been built with wisdom and prayer and love and sacrifice.

But most of all, it had been built by God.

As Shane drew back, as they shared a smile of sweet expectation and oneness, Lauren was reminded. The miracle God had given them was greater than either of them had imagined possible. Because they had found something they never really believed they’d find, something only God could’ve given them. A place to start and stand and build upon. A place to love and laugh and live.

Precious, priceless common ground.

T
HIRTY
-O
NE

Eighteen Months Later

The haunting sound of taps rang out across the base as the Memorial Day service came to an end. Rain had fallen relentlessly all day, but it stopped an hour earlier, and now only the gray clouds remained.

Emily took the hand of the soldier beside her, and silently they walked to his pickup truck. When they were inside, as Joe Greenwald started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, Emily turned to him. He still held her hand. “It feels like yesterday.”

“I know.” He smiled at her, no longer the tentative smile of a young man uncertain about how to proceed. Rather, a smile born of friendship forged in the flames of grief. Friendship … and something else.

Something deeper.

They had planned this day for a month, knowing what they would do, where they would wind up, and now Joe drove his truck onto the southbound I-5 freeway and settled into a steady pace. They were headed for Kelso, for the place where Justin was buried.

There had been no way to foresee how the past year and a half would unfold, no way of knowing how pain would bring the two of them so close. Emily leaned her head back and closed her eyes. They had been determined to be friends because Justin asked them to be.

But from there, the bond between them took on a life of its own.

It started with the teen center. A month after Justin’s death, Joe picked her up at her residence hall and drove her downtown. She had worried that the familiarity of the afternoon would wear her out, leave her emotionally drained. But instead, the time together that day had breathed new life into her. Justin’s work, being carried out the way he would’ve wanted it to be.

Snow fell lightly as they made their way into the center that day, and there they were. The guys who had loved Justin so much. Bo seemed to notice them first. He gave Emily a questioning look, and then he turned to Joe.

“What’s up?” The question was loaded, fully defensive and almost threatening.

Joe separated himself from Emily and approached him. “Thought we’d play a little ping-pong.” He shrugged. “You know, since there’s snow on the court.”

Bo crossed his arms and stuck out his chest. He looked at Emily and back to Joe. He began to shake his head, slowly at first and then faster. “Oh, no you don’t.” He jabbed a finger at Joe. “I know what you’re doing.”

“Bo …” Emily took a step forward.

Joe held out his hand, stopping her. “It’s okay.” He looked at Bo. “I’ve got this.”

“No, you ain’t
got
this, man.” Bo raised his voice. He gestured hard toward Joe. “You think you can walk in here and take his
place
? Is that it?” He waved off Joe, turned, and paced three steps. Then he stopped, his voice louder than before. “You can’t take his place, man. No one can.” He pointed to the door. “Get out. We don’t want you.”

Dexter lifted his chin. The others looked like they felt the same way.

Emily felt tears on her cheeks even before she knew she was crying. Of course they didn’t want Joe, they wanted Justin. They all wanted Justin. But he was gone, and Joe was determined to help these kids, to pick up where his buddy had left off. She reminded herself to breathe as she watched Joe.

He laughed, as if Bo’s attitude hadn’t affected him at all. “Man, I didn’t come to babysit you.” He crossed his arms. “I came to whip your tail in ping-pong.” He held up his hand. “But hey, if you’re afraid, that’s cool.” He looked at Dexter, and then at the others. “Someone’s gotta be up for the challenge, right?”

A gradual shift happened among the teens. They glanced at each other and then at Bo, as if to question whether he would really back down from someone calling him afraid. Bo looked angry; he’d been tricked. He gritted his teeth and hissed in Joe’s direction. “Someone wants me to beat ’em at pong — ” he flicked his shirt, all macho and tough guy again — “then I say bring it.”

He walked to the table and picked up a paddle and a ball. “Come on, white boy, bring it.”

Joe rolled up his sleeves. “Yeah, that’s the Bo I heard about all those nights in Iraq. All talk, no action.”

“What?” Bo let his mouth hang open. “I could take Justin any day.”

“Fine.” Joe practically spat the word. “Let’s see what you got.”

That first game was one of the fiercest, most intense competitions Emily had ever seen. When it was over, Joe had won more than the game. He had won the respect of every boy at the center. Once a week they began coming, and over time Joe forged a relationship with the guys, a friendship. And at the end of that semester, Bo showed them his report card. Nothing less than a
C
, even in math and science.

Joe would never be Justin.

But he brought his own brand of loving and learning, and that was more than enough. Emily liked watching him, liked seeing how he was quieter than Justin in some ways, and yet maybe more able to connect with the teens individually. And he was funny. Humor gave Joe a connection the guys hadn’t expected. Half the time Joe was teasing them, and the other half he was telling them how God was the only way off the streets.

Joe’s parents lived in Ohio, the Akron area. He was the youngest of six kids, the sometimes quiet one in a loud and fiercely loyal family. Three of them had already decided on military careers. Emily liked hearing stories from Joe’s childhood, the growing-up years, how Joe and his brothers would wrestle and chase after each other and stage contests for everything, from eating hot dogs to swimming across the river that ran through town.

His parents thought Joe was headed for a military career too, but he was only serving for a season, getting money for college. Joe wanted to be a doctor. “There’s a lot of ways to help people,” he had told Emily. “Serving your country in war, or serving your fellow man in a doctor’s office.”

She agreed with him and found their discussions more fascinating all the time — whether they centered around Iraq, and Joe’s thought that the country should be divided into three states — one for the Kurds, one for the Shiites, and one for the Sunnis. Or whether they were talking about the application process for med school. Joe was twenty-one back then, a year older than her, and already he’d taken enough classes between tours in Iraq that he was midway through his sophomore year at the University of Washington.

That same month, when Joe first made contact with the teens at the center, they took the first of several trips down to Kelso. Buster was getting slower. Maybe because he missed Justin, or maybe because he was getting older. Either way, he needed to be walked, and Emily had developed a fondness for him.

Justin’s parents welcomed them like long lost friends, though Emily caught his mother looking at her, watching the easy way she had with Joe. That first time, the two of them went outside and hooked Buster to his leash. Justin’s old matted sweatshirt was in his doghouse where he had been sleeping.

“Hey, boy … remember me?” Emily petted him behind his ears, the way Justin had always done.

Buster wagged his tail.

“See that?” She smiled at Joe. “He likes me.”

Joe stooped down and patted the dog. “Justin was crazy about him.”

Buster hid behind Emily’s leg, fearful and maybe a little puzzled over the young man who had some of Justin’s mannerisms, but yet wasn’t Justin.

They walked Buster through the Bakers’ neighborhood, and after an hour, the dog warmed up to Joe. Before they left, Justin’s mother pulled Emily aside. “I’m glad you and Joe are … you know, becoming better friends.” She smiled, but tears filled her eyes at the same time. “Justin would’ve wanted that.”

Suddenly Emily understood the haunting looks she’d been giving them since they arrived. She must’ve thought Emily was developing deeper feelings for Joe, feelings that went beyond friendship. And only one month after Justin’s death. Emily shook her head, her voice low so she couldn’t be heard by the men in the other room. “Mrs. Baker, there’s nothing between us.” She shrugged and felt her own eyes tear up. “We have Justin in common, that’s all.”

Mrs. Baker gave her a sad smile, and she nodded as if to say she understood more than Emily on this matter. “It’s okay, Emily. You’re young.” She put her hand on Emily’s shoulder. “No one would expect you to stop living. Especially not Justin.”

The conversation stayed with Emily and troubled her. For another three months she worried about what people might think, what they might say. When she talked to her parents — who were happier than ever — she downplayed the time she was spending with Joe.

Meanwhile, she and Joe continued to spend all their free time together. They met with the teens once a week, and every now and then they visited the Vets at the American Legion hall.

“I love this,” he told her once, “carrying on in Justin’s place.” The look in his eyes was deep and sincere. “But there’s something I’ve always wanted to do. Those roadside bombs maim as many guys as they kill. If you’ll go with me, I think I’d like to start visiting the VA Hospital.”

And so they did that too, spending an afternoon every few weeks hanging out with soldiers who had lost an arm or a leg, or who were recovering from some other sort of war injury. Emily enjoyed the conversations they had with the soldiers, but even more, she liked watching Joe. She was struck by the easy way he had with people, his sense of humor and how it created an almost instant bond with anyone he met.

On the six-month anniversary of Justin’s death, they spent a day at Blake Island State Park, a tiny oasis in the middle of Puget Sound, eight miles out from Seattle’s waterfront. They hiked the trails and explored Tillicum Village and spotted a pair of bald eagles diving for fish near the shore.

But not until after lunch, when they were sitting on a fallen log staring at the ocean, did Joe turn to her. And suddenly, there it was. The one thing they’d never discussed, never dared to imagine. At first he said nothing, but he didn’t have to. His eyes told her that he was feeling the same way she was.

Somewhere along the path of healing and holding onto Justin’s memory, a special sort of love had taken root. And now it was deep enough that they could no longer ignore it, no longer spend an afternoon together without somehow acknowledging the feeling.

He took a long breath. “Can you feel it, Emily?” His voice was so soft, it mixed with the ocean breeze and resonated deep in her soul.

She didn’t have to ask what he meant. Her eyes held his. “Yes … I feel it.”

A consuming guilt gathered around them, staring them down, daring them to state the obvious. Emily couldn’t look at Joe. She let her eyes find a place in the sand near her tennis shoes. How had it happened? Having feelings for Justin’s friend was wrong. She’d known when she lost Justin that she would never love the same way again, that no one could ever take his place. So how had they come to this place, to these feelings? And worse, how could they deny their strength, when quietly, beneath the surface, their hearts had already started something too strong to walk away from?

Joe reached for her hand. “We can take it slow, Emily.”

The touch of his fingers against hers sent shivers down her spine. She could barely breathe, had to will herself to stay there beside him. What would Justin think? How could they live with themselves for letting this happen? Justin had asked them to be friends, nothing more.

But even so, she didn’t let go of his hand. What had he said? They could take it slow? She nodded. “Yes. We … we have to.”

“Look at me, Emily.” Again his voice was tender, resigned.

She lifted her eyes and realized that her knees were shaking. It was May, and the weather was still cool. But the chill inside her came from their conversation and not the temperature.

He looked long at her, studying her eyes. “Justin wouldn’t be angry with us. He …” Joe’s chin quivered. “He asked us to spend time together. Deep inside — in those last minutes — he had to know.”

Emily thought that through. He had to know? Was it possible, that as he lay there dying he had asked Joe to be her friend so that one day she could find a love with him, the love Justin could no longer give her? She swallowed hard. “I don’t know.” She felt sick, ashamed of herself for being attracted to Joe, for having feelings for him. “It’ll take time.”

And it had. Their first kiss came seven months later, on Christmas Eve. By then there was no denying the obvious. Through a trail of grief and sorrow, God had forged in them a friendship that would never be broken. Could never be broken.

The bond they shared was deep and anchored in a faith that had survived the most difficult test. Her parents celebrated with her when she told them the news — that she and Joe had moved into a dating relationship. And Justin’s parents had rejoiced as well, telling the two of them that it was right and fitting that they find their way together.

“Justin would’ve wanted this,” his mother said. “I saw it coming, Emily. We’re happy for you both.”

Emily appreciated their support, though she suspected they had shared tears over the situation as well. Same as she and Joe. This wasn’t how things were supposed to work out, but they had. Now everyone involved needed to find a way to understand and move on.

Some nights, before she returned to her room, they would sit on the bench — the one she and Justin once sat on — and they would hold hands in silence. Simply missing Justin and all he’d meant to them. But by the time they reached the one-year anniversary of his death, after they took a week over Christmas break and visited her parents in their Fallon home, this much was clear: Justin had brought them together.

There was nothing guilty or shameful about that, and they agreed to let the New Year define a change, an end to the constant grief and sadness, and a tender new beginning for the two of them.

Emily opened her eyes and let the memories of the past eighteen months fade. She had Joe now, and she loved him with everything inside her. No, he would never be Justin, but that was okay. What she and Joe shared would always — in some ways — be deeper, stronger, because of the painful journey they’d traveled together.