Unpredictable Love (5 page)

“
Hey, kiddo. It’s okay to cry. This is
crazy.”

“
I need to dump Archie. He keeps
asking me, and I keep turning him down.”

“
What about your job? Doesn’t he have
influence?”

“
I don’t know. Maybe I need a new one.
The guy from the Oak Bend Reporter has been calling me. Mac
Caldwell, my old dean from Kensington State, recommended me for
managing editor.”

“
Why don’t you go for an interview?
Not that I want you to move. But if it’s the best thing, then do
it.”

“
How will you and Amber get along
without my contribution every month?”

“
I’ll make Amber get a real job.” Nan
chuckled.

Jory dried her eyes and nodded. “I’ll talk
to him tomorrow.”

There was no time to call the Oak Bend
editor because Archie Peabody had been stalking her, hovering
around her desk all morning. Ever since she had written about the
Pine Grove soldier pen pals initiative, her sort-of boyfriend had
been shadowing her.

Archie strolled by Jory’s desk for the
hundredth time that day, and stopped. He leaned on the corner.
“After that piece on the soldier, I suppose you don’t want to go
out with tame old me anymore,” he said, making eye contact for a
few seconds before lowering his gaze.

“
I’m writing him letters, Archie.
That’s all. I wouldn’t know him if I fell over him.” She turned her
attention back to her computer and continued typing.

“
Does that mean you’ll go to the
concert with me?”

She looked up, frowned, and nodded.

Archie leaned over to whisper in her ear.
“And spend the night?”

“
Nope,” she replied, turning her
attention back to her work.

“
What’s the point?” His face flushed.
“I spend all this money on you, and you won’t even sleep with
me.”

“
Keep your voice down!”

“
It’s the truth. I’m the one who
should be ashamed, not you.”

“
So, it’s about money? Doesn’t that
make me a hooker if I sleep with you?” She drew her stare from the
keyboard to meet his and cocked an eyebrow.

“
You twist everything I say. Forget
the concert. I’m done, Jory. I like you well enough, but this
celibacy thing, it’s not for me. It’s gone on too long.”

Wounded by his words, she sat back. “Just
out for sex, eh? Goodbye. Forget it, Archie.” She made a shooing
gesture with her hand.

“
You don’t get it. Fine. We’re done.”
He stormed off in a huff.

Gladys in the advertising department looked
over at Jory. A sharp glance from the journalist sent the nosy,
older woman back to her computer.

Jory arrived home to find a letter
waiting for her. She took a cup of coffee and the envelope to her
room. Distracted for a moment by the feeder, she watched the birds
jockey for the best perch.
They’re no
better than we are. Fighting to live. Isn’t that what Trent is
fighting for?

She sat cross-legged on her bed and took a
final sip of coffee before opening it.

Dear Jory,

I assumed you don’t have a boyfriend. Maybe
that’s wrong.

Maybe you’re just a kind person writing to
me in your spare time? I get my hopes up for us, but then I
remember the picture. Any girl who looks like that has a million
guys asking her out.

Although I’m not sure I want to hear the
truth, please tell me. Are you dating anyone? Is it serious? I need
to know if there’s a chance for me or we’re just going to be
friends.

She skimmed through the rest. There
was news about Rocky and what music Trent was listening to.
Yep. Amber does have a million guys asking her
out.
She pulled up her lap desk and started a
reply.

Dear Trent,

To answer your question, yes, there was
someone. But it was never serious. This is a small town. There
aren’t too many guys here for me. Maybe I’m too picky . We decided
to stop seeing each other today. Frankly, I’m relieved. He’s not my
type. Though I’m not sure what my type is. So, there’s no
competition for you. Is that what you wanted to hear? What about
you? Aren’t there women where you are? I mean, American women, like
you, in the service? Are you dating anyone?

I’m not just being nosy. I spend a lot of
time thinking about you, writing to you. I don’t want to do that if
you have something else going on. I hope you understand. You’re my
one and only right now. I hope you feel the same.

Fondly,

Jory

She chewed her lip. Waiting was the hardest
part of her relationship with Trent. Within a week, she had her
answer.

Dear Jory,

Did you hear my cheer when I read your
letter? You made my day.

Not that I’m happy you broke up with
someone. Well, to be honest, yeah, I am. (he drew a small smiley
face) So, it’s you and me. Am I single? You bet I am. I’ve had a
few friends with benefits out here. It’s not an easy place. But
nothing serious. Last I heard, Sheila, the last girl I dated, had
been shipped back to the States. I have no idea where she is
now.

I know we don’t know much about each other,
but being here makes every minute precious. You appreciate what you
have, even just life itself. I hope it isn’t too soon to say you
mean a lot to me. It might sound crazy to someone else, but I feel
we have a connection, something, bringing us together. I hope you
feel the same way. If you don’t, please forgive a lonely soldier
hoping you’re the one.

Trent

Jory grinned so wide it hurt. She blasted
the song “Dancing on Sunshine” and twirled around the room. She
threw open the window and whistled to the birds perched on her
feeders. Blood pumped through her veins at a record rate, beating a
quick, steady rhythm in her ear. Denial was out. Celebrating was
in. Winning his heart lifted her spirits until she was light as
air.

She snatched a piece of pink paper and
plopped down on the bed with her laptop.

Dear Trent,

I was so happy to receive your letter today.
I haven’t had a real boyfriend for a while. I don’t fall in love
every day. Not saying I’m in love with you, but I’m happy with the
way things are between us.

I feel I could tell you anything, and you’d
understand. And you’re so smart. You know everything there is to
know about birds and a helluva lot about people too. Things here at
the paper are getting sticky with the guy I was dating huffing
around me all the time, glaring. He’s pissed, and I’m worried about
my job.

She filled in some details about the finches
at her feeders, commented on her favorite music, and then closed.
When Nan called up that dinner was ready, Jory brought her letter
down, took a deep breath, and placed it on the dish by the front
door for Nan to mail the next morning.

At the evening meal, Jory expressed
her curiosity about food in the military. She
lifted
her fork, ready to dig into her Aunt’s beef stew pie, but stopped
short. “I wonder what Trent gets to eat?”

“
Probably shit on a shingle,” Amber
said, taking a forkful of the hearty dish.

“
Meaning?” Jory cocked an
eyebrow.

“
Crappy stuff. Yucky, smelly,
disgusting.” Amber made a face and shivered.

“
You don’t know. Can’t feed them
garbage if they have to fight.”

Later that night, driven by curiosity, the
older sister wrote to her military friend. In two weeks, she had a
reply.

On base, we get hot meals. Not like home,
but okay. Even fast food sometimes. In the field, we get MRE’s.
Meals, ready to eat. They’re pretty bad. Some parts, like the
bread, peanut butter, and cookies are okay. But the main course
stuff is brutal. Except for the ravioli. Kind of like the stuff my
mom served from a can.

I got hungry visualizing your aunt’s meat
pie. Would you make one for me when I get home?

“
Aunt Nan,” Jory called from her attic
room.

They met up in the kitchen.

“
Can you teach me how to make beef
stew pie?”

When her aunt stared at her with narrowed
eyes, the young woman explained.

“
I can teach you. But when he returns
stateside, how are you going to explain to him that you’re not
Amber? Or rather, Amber isn’t you?”

“
I haven’t figured that out yet. Maybe
we’d better forget it. I mean, when he returns, this charade’ll be
over, right? He probably won’t speak to me again, so I don’t need
to learn.”

Nan grabbed her niece’s elbow and steered
her back into the room. “If it’s not this man you’ll be cooking
for, there’ll be another.”

“
I don’t think so. But what the heck.”
Jory donned an apron.

* * * *

As the days marched on, spring warmed Pine
Grove. Trees unfurled light green leaves. Roses grew buds. Bundled
up to the eyeballs in down became wool coats, and then lightweight
fleece jackets. Jory worked away at the paper, avoiding Archie
whenever she could.

Rumor had it he’d started dating Marla
from the post office. Jory let out a breath when she heard. He no
longer scowled at her, but gave her a knowing look.
He thinks I’m jealous?
She could
barely keep the grin off her face.

As Pine Grove blossomed, Jory’s heart still
hung heavy. She’d been living a seriously big lie with Trent that
only got bigger and bigger week after week. The weight seemed to
get heavier with every letter she received.

Dear Jory,

Rumor has it spring is happening in your
neck of the woods. I remember spring, green leaves, flowers
everywhere. At least I think I do. This place is still a hellhole.
Then, I think of you. You’re like a spring flower. A daffodil. I
don’t mean to get poetic or anything.

Just that I think of your golden hair and
the fresh spring air and my heart takes off. You do that to me.
That and more. I’ll show you when I get home. I’m coming home, by
the way. In case you had any worries. No body bag for me. I’ve got
someone to come home for. You, beautiful Jory, my springtime
girl.

I know we agreed not to say it. We agreed we
couldn’t possibly know it, not even meeting or anything. But I’ve
never met a kinder or smarter girl than you. And pretty—hell, you
wrote the book on that one. So, I’m going to break the rules and
say it. I love you. I do. I know I do. Every letter lifts me up in
many ways.

Oops, there I go, getting hinky again. Sorry
about that. Lol.

Seriously, I mean it. And when I get back,
I’m going to spend the rest of my life showing you just how much. I
hope you feel the same and will break the rules too. Be safe, well,
and happy. I still have to be in Afghanistan for a while, but as
soon as I can get back to the states, I will. Having you to come
home to makes all the difference.

Love,

Trent

There it was, in black and white. The thing
she had most hoped for and most dreaded at the same time. Love. Did
she love him? Of course she did. Would she send him one like this?
Impossible.

She clasped the pages to her chest. Warmth
coursed through her veins. Happiness and sadness blended, making
her eyes water. Guilt swirled through her. Only one path would
alleviate the bad feelings –she had to tell him the truth. She
slipped out a fresh piece of paper and clicked the point out on her
pen.

When she sat down to write, all her regard,
her love for Trent, welled up. She longed to tell him how she felt,
but words wouldn’t come. Spinning a tale of her love for him around
the reality that she was a liar and a fraud didn’t work.

Courage gathered in her. If she really
loved him, she had to confess. That was the only way they could
possibly stay together. Although fears and doubts flashed through
her, she had to take the chance. The flutter in her chest as she
sat down to write made her hand shake.
Where to begin?

Dear Trent,

I know you’re falling for me, but I’m a liar
and a phony.

She balled up the paper and shot it at her
waste basket. She missed.

Dear Trent,

Sometimes things aren’t what they seem.
People too.

She shook her head and discarded it.

Dear Trent,

It’s time I told you the truth. The real
truth about who I am.

She took a deep breath and continued
writing. Jory tossed off most of her correspondence to Trent in a
matter of minutes. This one took her an hour and a half. Strong
tears stung her eyes, and she had to stop several times. Taking the
gamble that he’d understand, and not toss her out on her butt, made
her heart beat faster.

Always clinging to the safe side of life,
Jory had ventured out on a tightrope without a net. She’d chided
herself a thousand times not to take it further. But each time a
letter arrived, she opened it, eagerly drinking in his words of
friendship and love, then responding in kind. Had she remained cool
with him? No. Had she hidden her ardor for him? No. She had no one
to blame but herself.

His words had morphed from discussions of
birds and childhood experiences to more intimate topics.
Handwritten, steamy scenarios exchanged pulled her closer. Finally,
Trent had declared his love for her. It had pushed her over the
edge. She had to fess up now. Although she hadn’t shared her
feelings with him, she knew she loved him, and it ate her up.

When she finished, she cried herself
to sleep. The letter sat on her dresser for several days. She
agonized over whether to send it or not. Maybe she should take her
chances when he got back.
If you really
love him, you have to do the right thing. You owe it to
him.