More Than This: Contemporary Christian Romance Novel (21 page)

“I can’t even imagine trying to get all of that to line up. I mean first you’re in France and then back in America and then France again. I’d be completely lost. I don’t know how you do it.” She took a small sip, really liking how it felt to just sit and talk.

His smile was languid and barely there. “I don’t either. If I ever question it or start trying to do it, it just… leaves.” He knotted his long fingers in front of him. “It’s really frustrating sometimes because it’s like if I ever put my hands on the wheel, the whole thing just stops cold.”

“And it’s done that before? Stopped cold?”

“Yeah. For months at a time. Years even.”

“Years?” she asked with skepticism behind it. “You’re not that old.”

He laughed with a hollow sound. “Oh, you’d be surprised.”

But he had her hooked with the story and with him and with everything. “So, it really just stopped for whole years? Wasn’t that hard?”

“Hard. Yeah. There’s a word.” He looked like he was sinking into the darkness and the cushions.

The second before she asked more, the oven timer beeped. Liz sat up, ready to go get the things, but Jake was up first.

“Stay right there.” His command was firm, and Liz sat back, afraid to question him.

Sitting there on the couch, hearing and feeling him in her kitchen, she put her head down on the cushion and replayed him being right there, on the couch with her. It made her feel as warm as her apple cider which she took another small sip of.

“Here we go,” he said, and she sat up again. “For you.” He handed her a little treat and then set the plate down between them on the couch.

With one eye on him as he sat down, Liz took a small bite. It was sweet, buttery perfection. “Wow. That’s good.” She took another bite, fully aware that he was watching her with hopeful amusement. Snuggling into the feeling of simply being here with him, she turned and wove her legs together. “So, seriously. You bake, you cook, you write, and yet there aren’t a million girls beating down your door. Why is that?”

Jake ducked his gaze and reached for a pastry. “I don’t need a million girls.” He looked over at her, and a shadow crossed over his face.

“What was that look for?” She took another bite, really liking everything about this.

He shook his head as the pastry in his hand dropped to his knee. “I don’t know. I’m kind of surprised there might be one girl.”

“Might be?” Liz took a very small bite, hoping he was going the direction she thought he was. “Do I know her?”

This breath was long and slow. “I think so.” His eyes asked questions his lips didn’t say. “Be straight with me, okay? You don’t mind this whole Thanksgiving thing, do you?”

The question and the tenor of it threw her. “Mind? Oh, yes. Of course I mind. I wanted to spend five whole days here by myself looking at these lovely walls.”

“Yeah, but you could have done something, found something else to do.”

Sad knowing slipped into her as she took one more bite. “But I wouldn’t have.”

It was his turn to look confused. “Why not?”

For a long moment she didn’t answer. Finally, she took a sip and then shrugged, laying her head over onto the cushion. “I don’t know. Because somehow I always end up talking myself out of things. Like the theatre that night. I’d always wanted to go there, I bet I’d walked by that thing a hundred times, and I always wondered what it was like to go in, but I never had until we went there together that night.”

“And the museum?”

She shrank over her cup. “Guilty as charged.” This breath was soft and sad. “I think about doing cool stuff, you know? Like going to the library or the museum, but then when I get the chance, like I have a couple hours to kill, it’s just easier to find reasons not to. Like I’ve always wanted to go out to Ellis Island and Liberty Island— to see where the immigrants came in. When I first moved here, I thought I would get that done. Now it’s been nearly five years, and here I am, still stuck in my own little corner in my own little chair.”

“But you’re not sweeping cinders.” He smiled, and she caught the reference.

“I don’t know. Sometimes I’m not sure that what I do is a whole lot more exciting. I mean there’s this whole city out there, just waiting to be explored, and yet, I’ve seen what? Half of a percent of it?”

“Well, I’ve lived here my whole life, and I’ve seen more of New York on my television than I’ve ever seen in person.” He leaned his head onto the cushion where he sat. “That’s sad, huh?”

She let out a sigh. “Yeah.” After taking the last drink, she set the cup on her lap. “But I guess I’m doing a little better now.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, I’ve now been to the theatre and the museum, so things are looking up.” She smiled in genuine happiness.

“And Ellis Island?”

The happiness flittered away. “Yeah, well, that’s a bus ride and a subway ride and a ferry ride.”

Jake’s gaze lit with excitement and challenge mixing in his eyes. “What? Are you, afraid of a little water?”

She knitted her eyebrows. “A little? There’s like the whole Atlantic out there.”

“So? Those people crossed the whole thing. This would only be a little piece of it— half of a percent at most.”

Liz smiled, liking his excitement but not sure she could rise to its challenge.

Suddenly he vaulted off of the couch and launched toward her looking like a ten-year-old at Christmas. “Wait. We could go Friday.”

“Friday?” Panic and surprise split through her. “This Friday?”

“Sure. We can get up, get an early start, go down to the ferry, and see Ellis Island. It would be the perfect thing to do over Thanksgiving. Besides, I could stand to do a little research there for the new book anyway.”

The new book.
That wasn’t fair to throw that chip on the table. “You’re serious?”

“Yes. Come on. What else do you have to do?”

Three days?
He was honestly sitting there proposing that they spend three whole days together? The most disturbing thing was she didn’t think it sounded so bad at all. It was just beyond her that he didn’t. Her eyes connected with his, and her heart said this was insane.

“Come on. It’ll be great,” he said, suddenly looking like a ten-year-old again. “Come on, please say yes. Please.”

“Okay.” She let out a breath. “Yes.”

“Yay!”

At this rate they were going to have New York explored in a week and a half.

The pie was cooling in the refrigerator, and Jake knew it was time to take his leave from this heavenly evening. The only thing that made leaving okay was the fact that he would get to see her again tomorrow and the next day. Still, leaving was not easy. This place, being with her, felt more like home than any place had in maybe forever for him, and all he wanted to do was hang onto that. At the door, he pulled on his coat, hoping for a reason to delay the inevitable.

A thought he’d had much earlier cracked through him, and though he didn’t know how to ask, he knew he needed to. “Oh, listen, I was wondering. I mean, this is kind of a dumb question, but do you… are you… I mean, I’m guessing you’re probably going to do the church thing tomorrow, right? I mean I’m not sure. I don’t know all of the rules about that stuff, but I figured with the whole praying thing and all…”

Her gaze came up to meet his with concern written in it. “Church?”

“Yeah.” Worry and embarrassment slithered over him. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe that was getting too personal. Maybe he was just being an idiot for thinking he could navigate any of this. “I just figured, you know, with Thanksgiving and everything. I don’t want to show up and you’re, you know, gone.”

“Oh.” She seemed to understand his pathetically bad attempt at communication although she looked a little taken aback by it. “Well, I was planning to go early tomorrow. That way it wouldn’t interfere with lunch.”

“Early?” He fought to get his coat on and adjusted. “What’s that? Like eight? Seven?”

Standing there, she dug her hands into the back pockets of her faded jeans. “Seven. It’s the first service.”

Jake nodded, standing by the door now, coat on, but not leaving. His gaze fell from hers as he fought with himself to decide if he should ask, could ask, or would that just make him look pathetic and desperate? “Well. Hm.” He readjusted the collar on his jacket that was suddenly impossibly hot and uncomfortable. “Well, I usually get up around five, even on my days off. So…”

When her gaze found his, there were only questions written there.

Was it cool to ask? To invite himself along? He’d already talked her into Friday and Thursday, and if everything went as well as he felt it was, surely he could find some reason they needed to get together Saturday. “I mean, if you don’t mind, hm…”

What he was actually not saying suddenly cracked over Liz’s consciousness. “You want to go to church with me?”

He shrugged, looking like a small boy who was huddled in the corner, afraid to be noticed. “I mean, not if you mind. I just thought…”

Disbelief rained through her for a moment, but then she shook it off hard. Here he was practically begging to go with her, and she was acting like an idiot. “Well, of course I don’t mind. Why would I mind? But, do you even know where the church is? I mean, my church?” The feeling that he might in fact be a stalker gripped her for one single second, and then she shook her head at herself. She was being ridiculous. “It’s St. Ann’s. Just down the street.”

With that she gave him directions although her heart was hammering so hard, she couldn’t even hear them herself. “I usually go a little early. I sit on the right. Unless you want me to wait for you at the door.”

Jake’s face registered not well-disguised panic, and Liz finally relaxed, realizing he was as lost as she felt.

She smiled to put him at ease. “I’ll wait. It’s not really that big of a deal anyway. The church is pretty small. You couldn’t miss me.”

Finally a real smile slipped up to his lips. “You’d be hard to miss.”

Liz felt the compliment wrap gently around her heart and flutter there as her gaze drifted up to his. “Thanks. For tonight. It was fun.” Then she saw it, even in the dim light. “Oh, you have some.” She reached for the flour clinging to his temple, just under the dark swath of hair. When her fingers touched him, he let out a soft breath, watching her, willing her not to leave him. Drawn to him, she let her fingers run the length of his face as she gazed up at him, in awe that she could be standing here like this with him and not completely panicking.

For a second nothing moved, and then slowly he bent until their lips met. Not one molecule of her said to back up, to end the kiss, to do anything other than melt into him and his presence. The world plummeted from beneath her feet as his strength took over her ability to hold herself up. His arms came around her, cradling her next to him, asking, seeking, wanting, and giving in return to everything her kiss held. When his lips left hers, he pulled her into his embrace, holding her next to the scratchy black wool of his coat. It was amazing how safe one space could feel.

Her hand felt so right on his back, as if it was made to go there. And his around her felt equally right and real and perfect. A breath as her eyes closed and a sigh that matched his, and then, not wanting to, she pulled back. “So. Church in the morning then?”

“I’ll be there.”

When Jake made it home, he went into the little apartment, shut the door, and sighed. It was everything he could do to keep himself from running back to hers. Here had always been depressing. Tonight it was worse. Tonight he finally knew this wasn’t the only option in the world. He left the lights off as he trekked to the bedroom and pulled off his boots and coat. Every movement, every memory brought back holding her in his arms, feeling her complete trust, her desire to be with him that was as real as his was to be with her.

Laying his coat on top of his boots, he leaned back and then lay down on the bed. Seven a.m. That meant he needed to be gone by six-thirty at the latest. He let his gaze find the clock— nearly midnight. Really he didn’t care, only that it was seven long hours before he could be with her again. He closed his eyes and let sleep take him. The faster it came, the faster the hours would pass. With a smile of anticipation, he relaxed until all else faded away.

Jasmine was back at the library. The satchel dangling from her hand could hold just any old thing, but it did not. It held everything. She climbed the steps, glancing about only once. There could be no nerves, no outward sign that anything was amiss, nothing to alert anyone who might be alert to her presence here. To the second floor and then upward, she climbed. Mr. Nguyen had made it very clear— when she returned the book, no one could know. No one.

At the fourth floor, Jasmine crossed the silent area filled with tables but no people all the way to the reference desk.

The person there looked up, and Jasmine shook off the alarms ringing through her. “May I help you?”

“Yes. I’d like to speak with Mr. Nguyen, please.”

“Mr. Nguyen?” the lady asked, and there was only the barest hint of recognition in her eyes. “I’m sorry. No Mr. Nguyen works in this department.”

With one jolt, Jake was awake. No Mr. Nguyen? But that would mean… pieces and possibilities snaked every which way from him. Why would Nguyen give her the book and then disappear? Was he murdered? Did anyone else know she had the book? And if so, who, and were they watching? Did the person at the desk know everything or nothing? And, what did Jasmine do now?

He yanked the covers from his legs and padded through the darkness over to the closet. It wasn’t a great solution, but he couldn’t afford to lose this scene, and it was too likely that by morning it would be gone.

Liz was beginning to question her memory. He had said he would meet her at church, right? And she was to wait for him at the back, right? Yes. She was almost positive that was the plan. So where was he? Had he gotten lost? Had he forgotten? Or had he decided against coming, and if he wasn’t coming now, had he also decided not to come later?

It was impossible to keep the panic and frustration out of her spirit. To think she had been ready to give him her heart…

The door to the cold, bleak outside world creaked open, and she looked up, knowing and yet wondering at the same time. Gratefulness and worry clogged her chest the second she saw him, and she stood as he entered, head down, clearly trying not to make any noise. Breathing and yet not, she stepped over to him just as he turned. “You made it.”

His gaze slid down her and then back to her eyes as a sparkle she had never seen lit his. Reaching up, he pulled the little brown knit hat from his head and scraped his fingers through his chocolate brown hair. “Sorry I’m late.”

“‘s okay. Come on.” She took his hand, not wanting to tempt fate any further by letting him get away again.

Into the church they went, her leading, him following although his steps behind her felt vaguely unsteady as if he wasn’t paying any attention to walking. When they got to a bench that had seats available, she slipped in and turned to check on him. Awe was the only word that could describe his face. It shone as he looked all around the beautiful church. It was small, but it was decorated in the old style décor. Statues and pillars. The whole nine-yards.

Liz knelt for two seconds, knowing the service was well-started. Then she sat back with him and reached for his hand again. Jake’s gaze came over to her, and the writing in his eyes spoke eloquently of wonder and admiration and surprise. She wanted to ask, but now was not the time. Instead, she turned her attention to the front, glad beyond words that he had suggested accompanying her today. It truly was a day to give thanks.

Jake knew he should stop gawking, but he simply couldn’t help it. Everywhere he looked was something new to contemplate, to admire, to marvel at. The statues were incredible, the colors, the faces— filled with compassion and love— gazed down at them. The large stained glass windows that lined the walls. The fresco at the front depicting a man and woman on some kind of journey. What it meant, he could only guess, but it filled him to the brim with wonder just the same. There were words too, but he couldn’t concentrate on them long enough to decipher what they were saying.

It was like being immersed in sensory overload, the library and the museum times a million. He couldn’t explain that, but he felt it to the middle of the depth of his soul. How had he lived for nearly 30 years without experiencing this?

“Amen,” Liz said next to him, and they stood together. Why? He had no idea, but he didn’t question it. No. He stood and retook her hand, glad to be here, with her. Thanksgiving. Yes, he was very thankful to the One who had graciously brought her into his life. If God was real, He must really love him because the gift of her could not be a coincidence or even fate. No. As sure as he stood there, Jake knew there was more to it than that. He could feel it deep in his bones, and right then and there, he bowed his head and thanked the God he had never really known for coming after him even when he was lost, even when he didn’t believe.

The shake of his head and the smile came without him even realizing they were there. He was so lucky. Unbelievably lucky.

A hard yawn from the all-night writing session slipped through him. Beating it back didn’t work and he shook and then sniffed it back. However, as he stood there, feeling like God’s new special assignment, he couldn’t help but wonder if God had had a hand in that as well. Jake smiled at the possibility. The world in all its mystery opened up before him. Maybe there was more to this whole life thing than he’d ever realized. When he looked down at her, he almost couldn’t help laughing for the joy. It was just too unbelievable to be true, and yet somehow here he was, standing in a church, holding hands with the most beautiful girl in the world. There was definitely more to life than he had ever realized. Together felt better than he could ever have imagined.

Liz breathed in the chilly air as they ambled down the sidewalk back to her apartment. Maybe it was the early morning or the holiday. Whatever it was, it felt like they had the whole city to themselves. “So…?” She looked up at him, trying to fit the fact that he was here walking with her into the belief that this wasn’t a dream. “How was church?”

He lifted his chin and nodded as if to say
not bad
. “Different.”

“Different?”

“Yeah. I guess I always imagined it to be like all woo-hoo, call down the spirits or something.”

“So you didn’t go to church when you were younger?”

“Nah. Mom wasn’t big on that stuff.”

“And your dad?”

“Dad was glad to have a day to sleep off the night before.”

It was Liz’s turn to lift her chin. “And when you were on your own…”

He shrugged. “It just never felt that important.”

She digested that, trying to figure out where that left them.

“But today was cool,” he said quickly as if he sensed her thoughts. “Peaceful-like, you know.” The black shoulders of his coat arched up. “I guess it’s been awhile since I’ve had much peaceful in my life. Mostly it’s been boredom punctuated by short bursts of chaos.”

“And that’s easier?”

“I don’t know that it’s easier exactly. I just never could quite figure out how to get out of it. Get up, go to work, make enough not to freeze or starve to death, go home, sleep, and start all over the next day.”

“What about the writing? That’s more than boring and less than chaos.”

He took three steps before he shrugged. “I don’t know. A distraction maybe?”

“From what? Life?”

“Something like that.”

Part of Liz wanted to argue, but when she looked at her own life, she could hardly find the argument to refute his version of reality. Her mind worked through it all— his reality, hers and theirs. “So what happens when your book gets published and you make a million dollars?”

His smile was barely there. “That’d be nice, but…”  He kicked his boots down the cold, hard, concrete, saying no more.

“But…?” She looked over at him, waiting for the answer that didn’t come. Then she understood. “You don’t think it’ll ever happen.”

When he shrugged, it barely moved anything, and his gaze slid out to the storefronts and traffic beyond.

“Why don’t you think it will happen?” She walked and waited, but no answer came. “Jake?” A step and his gaze slid over to hers. In it, she read the hurt and despair. “What?”

But he just shook his head and twisted his gaze away from her. “Nothing.”

Liz tried to divine what he wasn’t saying. “The story is really good, you know? I mean, I’m hooked, and I haven’t even actually read any of it.”

He sniffed in the cool air but never really looked back at her. “It’s a lot easier to come up with the story than to get it written down. The story’s the easy part.”

She thought about that for a little bit and then half-shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I could probably write it if I could come up with something to say.”

They turned into the parking lot of her apartment and went in. Once inside, they pulled layer after layer off and hung them at the door.

“Whew,” Liz said, fingering through her hair to get the static out of it. “Nothing like winter in New York.”

“Tell me about it.” When he was sufficiently de-layered, Jake heaved a breath and slapped his hands together. “Well, we’d better get to cooking.”

The turkey was in the oven along with the sweet potatoes. The rest of the meal was in the process of cooking as well, but everything was on low because neither of them was really hungry yet. Back on the couch, which Jake was starting to love, Liz reached over and punched the buttons on the remote.

“You a football fan?” Jake asked, fighting off the yawn. Three a.m. was dogging his heels again.

“Dad always watches it,” she said. “It doesn’t feel much like Thanksgiving without it.”

Jake nodded and settled back into the cushions, grabbing a pillow to hug, and fighting another yawn. “So who’s playing?”

“Uh, Detroit and…”  Liz squinted to read the tiny print. “Looks like the Jets.”

“Oh.” Sleep was coming at him hard now. “Is it supposed to be a good game?”

“It’s Detroit. What do you think?”

He didn’t know, really, but he acted like he did. The couch was getting softer and more comfy by the second. It felt like falling into a soft, safe embrace. For a second he gave up the fight and let his eyelids fall closed. Then he jerked them open, willing them to stay that way. Such great company he was. “What’s the score?”

“I think it just started.” She swiveled around to look at the clock. “Yeah, it just started.”

“Oh.” It was the last thing he thought on the way out.

Liz realized he had fallen asleep when she heard the soft sounds of his breathing. Surprised, she carefully leaned over to check. Yes, he was, in fact, asleep. “Well, that’s good, Liz-bet. You put him to sleep in record time.”

Pulling her shirt down over her jeans, she stood and went into the kitchen. She stirred first one pot and then the other, checking them over and turning them down to really low. Opening the oven, she checked the turkey. It would be all right. Then she closed the oven and looked around for something else that needed done.
Set the table.

She got the dishes out— the best ones she owned and took them out to the dining room. Quietly she set them out, completing the setting with nice glasses and silverware. She wished she had nice cloth napkins but paper towels would have to do. When the table was fully set, she wondered what else might keep her busy.

His soft snoring on the couch made her shake her head. It was strange how normal this all felt— as if she had been doing it just like this her whole life. Figuring it would be awhile before they ate, she went back to the living room and curled onto her side of the couch. She looked over at him, wondering how he could sleep like that. It didn’t look very comfortable. As she half-watched the television, she wondered why he was so tired. Maybe it was because he hadn’t had his requisite seven cups of coffee the night before. Or maybe it was just that he had a day off, and he was tired.

She finally decided that she could sit here and be upset or she could get something productive done while she waited. So she got up and grabbed the book on dyslexia she had picked up at the library. There hadn’t been much time to get it read. Now was as good a time as any.