The Diary (18 page)

She began descending the steps, and the man started toward her, pausing under a streetlamp as he approached. As he stood caught in the pale cone of light, in which a swarm of snowflakes darted and spun as if alive, his face turned up to her and his blue eyes blazing amid all that whiteness, Elizabeth let out a small gasp of recognition.

AJ.

He was leaner than before, as though stripped down to the bare essentials, the cleanly hewn planes of his face even more sharply defined. He wore a sheepskin jacket with its fleece collar turned up and cowboy boots that had stamped a path in the crisscrossing tracks left by passersby on the snowy sidewalk. He wasn't wearing a hat, and she noted that his hair was shorter than it had been when she'd last seen him. It made him appear older somehow, though no more settled.

He slowed as he drew near, as if uncertain what his reception would be. Elizabeth was uncertain as well. How was she supposed to react after all this time with almost no word from him?

When he reached her, the corners of his mouth lifted in an easy smile that sent her heart aloft.

“Hey, lady, need a lift?”

“I have my own ride, thank you very much.” Elizabeth wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of thinking she'd been pining for him all this time.

“Did you get my postcards?” he asked.

“I did. I would've written back if I'd had a forwarding address.” There was a note of reproach in her voice.

“I was never in one place long enough,” he explained. “But I came back, didn't I? Just like I said I would.”

“And you thought I'd just be sitting on the shelf, waiting to be dusted off?”

“So you're mad at me now, is that it?” AJ didn't seem perturbed by her display of temper.

She stared at a snowflake stuck to one of his eyelashes, resisting the urge to brush it off. Airily she replied, “Mad? Why should I be mad? Really, AJ, it's not like I don't have better things to do than sit around waiting to hear from you.” The words sailed forth on a frosty plume of breath. Her hands were stinging from the cold, and she realized that, in her excitement at seeing him, she'd neglected to put on her gloves. Hastily she fished them from her coat pocket and tugged them over her numb fingers. When she looked up again, he was regarding her with bemusement.

“Can we go somewhere?” His affectionately teasing tone gave way to a more serious one. “Just to talk,” he added at the sharp look she flashed him. “I can see there are some things I need to clear up.”

“All right,” she said with a show of reluctance. “But don't think I can be bought off with some flimsy excuse.”

They decided against going to the Rainbow. Half the town congregated there, and it was especially crowded this time of year—they were sure to be spotted by someone they knew. The Brass Rail was equally out of the question. So they ended up driving all the way out to Cross Corners, on roads made nearly impassable in spots by the bad weather, to the tavern where AJ had taken her on a summer evening, a lifetime ago, when the night had been alive with fireflies instead of falling snow and she'd first learned that not every good thing in life came neatly wrapped.

The mood there was far different tonight. Other than a handful of die-hard patrons, the place was empty. Most of the locals appeared to be at home celebrating the holiday with their families. The upright piano against the wall by the door sat shrouded, the old Negro piano player nowhere in sight. The only music was that of the jukebox, at present Tony Bennett crooning his latest hit single, “Because of You,” to the off-key accompaniment of a grizzled veteran at the bar.

“Thank God it's not a Christmas carol. It'd drive away even old Saint Nick,” remarked AJ with a laugh, glancing at the would-be tunesmith, who was clearly soused to the gills, as they settled at a table in back with their drinks—whiskey and soda for him, gin and tonic for her.

Reminded of what day it was, she said, “I can't stay long. My mother's expecting me.” Mildred was having some of the neighbors over for a little holiday supper, and Elizabeth had promised to help.

“So why don't you phone her and tell her something came up?” He gestured toward the pay phone in back, then fished a dime from his pocket and plunked it down on the table in front of her, saying with a grin, “It's on me. That way you have no excuse not to let me buy you dinner.”

Elizabeth felt the gulf between them widen further. Bob would have understood, without her having to explain, the impossibility of attempting to palm off her mother with an excuse. Did AJ even have a clue of what she'd been through these past months, mostly on account of him?

But if she was angry, it didn't alter the fact that she was glad to see him. All the old feelings had been stirred up, and only pride kept her from expressing what was in her heart. Suppose his feelings toward her had changed? Was that what he'd come to tell her? “I can't,” she told him, not without regret. “She's having some people over. It's a holiday tradition—she does it every year on Christmas Eve. Anyway, I promised to help out, and I don't want to let her down.” AJ didn't respond. He just sat there smiling at her as if he knew it was only a matter of time before he wore her down, which nettled her. “What? You don't believe in tradition?”

“Sure I do,” he said, raising his glass to his lips. “It's just that I don't have much experience in that department.”

“Your grandparents didn't celebrate holidays?”

“Not so's you'd notice. If I needed new underwear, my grandmother would wait until the middle of December to buy me some, then wrap it up and put it under the tree. The only time I ever got a toy was in school. One year I got this little tin wind-up car, but my grandfather confiscated it when I brought it home. He told me our family didn't accept charity. That,” he said, “was Christmas in our household.” He spoke without a trace of self-pity, as though merely reporting the facts, but Elizabeth felt a tug of sympathy nonetheless. At the same time, it highlighted the stark differences in their upbringing. Mildred, despite her faults, always went out of her way to make the holidays festive. She never stinted on material things, either.

“What are your plans for tomorrow?” Elizabeth inquired lightly. She wasn't expecting a gift but hoped he'd want to spend at least part of the day with her. That is, if he wasn't planning to take off again.

“Don't know yet. I'm sort of playing it by ear.”

In other words, his plans didn't include her. Elizabeth felt a tender spot in her chest bloom into an ache. Why had he bothered to come back at all? Clearly it wasn't to see her. “So what is it you wanted to tell me?” she asked somewhat brusquely. The Tony Bennett song had given way to Nat “King” Cole crooning about chestnuts roasting on an open fire. At the bar, the tin-eared drunk sat slumped over his bottle of beer, while the bartender was busy tacking up a string of Christmas lights that had come loose in one spot.

AJ leaned forward, growing suddenly animated. “What do you know about computers?”

“Not much,” she replied, puzzled by his question. What did computers have to do with anything? “I know they exist, that's about it.”

“Just wait. One of these days they'll be so much a part of our daily lives, we'll wonder how we ever did without them,” he said excitedly. His eyes glittered in the dim light, and flags of color stood out on his cheeks. “Ever heard of a semiconductor? They're what drives a computer. Well, there's this fellow I know out in California who's gearing up to produce them on a mass scale. He's been getting together the financing, and it looks like he's finally ready to pull the trigger. That's where I come in. You see, he's offered me a job. The pay isn't much to start with, but it's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to get a foothold in something that's going to be big—I mean really big.” He paused to knock back a gulp of his drink, the rattling of the ice in his glass making her think of dice in a game of chance. The enterprise he was describing sounded just as risky. “Of course it would mean we'd have to move to California,” he went on in the same fevered tone. “But I've already looked into it, and there are plenty of places for rent. Eventually we'll be able to buy our own house. Out there they're springing up faster than cornstalks.”

He was almost stumbling over his words in his enthusiasm. But Elizabeth was still stuck on a single, defining word. “‘We'?” she echoed in numb disbelief.

“You and me.” AJ seized her hands. “That's what I wanted to tell you. I would've told you sooner, but I wanted to have a real offer in hand before I did. Don't you see? I couldn't come to you with a bunch of pipe dreams.” He tightened his grip on her hands, never taking his eyes off her face, as if he could make her understand through the force of his gaze alone. “I guess I'm not doing a very good job of it,” he said, “but what I'm trying to say is … Elizabeth Harvey, will you marry me?”

For Elizabeth, time stood still and the earth stopped turning. There was only the rushing of blood in her ears and the single thought pealing inside her head like a church bell:
He wants to marry me
. It filled her the way water fills an empty jug, spilling over when it reached the top. When she could no longer contain it, she put her head down on their joined hands and began to weep.

She wasn't just weeping out of joy and relief. She was weeping for Bob, too. Dear Bob, who would soon be off fighting in Korea, the only thing keeping him going the thought of being able to return to her one day. She hadn't led him on, but the mere fact that she was corresponding with him implied some kind of commitment. Also, she'd vowed to spare him a ‘Dear John' letter, and if she were to accept AJ's proposal, it would mean breaking that vow.

Marrying AJ would also mean giving up the only life she'd ever known. It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if her mother were to banish her; in some ways, it would be a relief. But did she want to leave behind the entire community? Like it or not, she inhabited this town the way she inhabited her body: It was part of her. Yes, there were those in Emory too small-minded to see past their own noses, but most of the people were generous and good-hearted. There were few in Emory who wouldn't give the shirt off their back to help someone in need. It was par for the course when a farmer fell ill or became injured for his friends and neighbors to pitch in, working extra hours to sow his fields or bring in his crop. Driving by the Findlays' farm not long ago, she'd seen a new barn going up, a swarm of people, most of them volunteers from the look of it, knocking themselves out to get it raised before the cold weather set in.

This was where her father and his people were buried. And where she'd hoped to raise a family of her own one day. If she were to move to California, whom would she know other than AJ?

She raised her head, using the heel of her hand to brush the tears from her cheeks. “I'm sorry,” she said, reaching for her napkin, which she used to dab at her eyes. “I don't know what came over me.”

AJ looked a bit befuddled, but he attempted to make light of it by teasing, “Hey, I know I'm no catch, but a guy doesn't expect a woman to burst into tears when he proposes to her.”

“It's not you. It's just … it's a little overwhelming is all.”

“I guess I kind of sprang it on you, didn't I?” he acknowledged sheepishly.

“You could have given me some warning.”

“In that case, I'll warn you that I'm not about to take no for an answer.”

“Let me at least sleep on it.” In her present state, she wasn't capable of deciding which way to go down a oneway street.

He regarded her intently for a moment before giving a slow nod. It wasn't the answer he'd been hoping for, but he was trying to put the best face on it. “Fair enough. Just tell me one thing.”

“What?”

“Do you love me? Because damnit, woman, even if you don't, I love you enough for the two of us.”

A bolt of lightning shot straight down through the pit of her stomach. Love? It was the one thing she hadn't taken into account. The one thing she couldn't measure against all the rest. She could no more hang a future on it than she could on air. At the same time, she knew it was that very air upon which her existence depended.

She looked him straight in the eye when she said it: “I love you. God help me, I do.”

His smile was slow to break but dazzling when it did. “I'm going to hold you to that.”

Tomorrow she would have to make the most important decision of her life. But tonight she wanted to savor this moment and the giddy sense of possibility it brought.

By the time they'd finished their drinks and stepped outside, the snow had stopped falling and a hush lay over the white-blanketed landscape. It was as if the world had taken a collective breath. Colored lights twinkled on the houses across the street, reflecting off the snow piled against doorways and under eaves. The sky overhead was so clear and sharp that the stars seemed newly minted, just for them.

“Merry Christmas,” he murmured, taking her in his arms.

They kissed, standing there in the snow under the stars. AJ's lips were soft against hers, asking rather than demanding, his gentle embrace leaving room for the unspoken question between them. They stayed that way even after they'd stopped kissing, their arms around each other, Elizabeth's head resting on AJ's shoulder. From inside drifted the sound of the jukebox, Mario Lanza singing “Be My Love” in his soaring tenor. Spontaneously they began to sway in time to the music, both thinking the same thing: Christmas had come early this year.

He stroked her hair, whispering in her ear, “I love you, Elizabeth Harvey. Whatever happens, don't ever forget that.”

“I won't.” She smiled into his shoulder, a secret smile just for her.

Whatever happened, she would always remember this Christmas. For the rest of her days, she would hold it as close to her heart as she was holding AJ right now. It would be the still breath at the center of each thought, the rest note between each beat of life's song. Someday, when she had children, she would wish the same for them: a moment in time when love was that all mattered.