You Can't Hurry Love

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“The hardest arithmetic to master is that which enables us to count our blessings.”

—ERIC HOFFER (1898–1983), PHILOSOPHER AND AUTHOR

TO MY DREAM TEAM:

Each one of you has blessed me greatly. Thank you for believing in my writing dream enough to invest your time and efforts to tell others about my books. It's one thing for me to believe in my stories as I write them. It's something else altogether to find others who say, “I love what you write. How can I help you?” Know this: I believe in you and pray for your dreams to come true, too.

High School Senior Prom

Woodland Park, Colorado

T
onight was almost perfect.

Short of dismantling the basketball hoops at either end of the high school gym, the prom decorating committee had transformed the area into a glimpse of Hollywood from yesteryear.

Couples swayed to the music coming from the DJ's tower of speakers in one corner of the room. Strings of twinkling white lights and silver streamers hung from the ceiling. Round tables lined the perimeter of the room and black metal movie cameras were centered on the white tablecloths strewn with glittery gold stars. Faux strips of movie film wound around the camera bases and featured the graduating seniors' photos in retro black-and-white.
HOLLYWOOD
was spelled out in iconic large white letters against the back wall next to the photo area with a lush red curtain backdrop. The aroma of buttery popcorn from the old-fashioned electric popper scented the air.

With a soft sigh, Elisabeth snuggled closer to Jamie, his arms tightening around her. Now this . . . this moment couldn't be any better, even if it was the last dance of their senior prom. Mariah Carey crooned “Don't Forget About Us,” and Elisabeth closed her eyes, imagining Jamie and she were alone under a star-filled sky.

“Happy?” Jamie's whisper tickled her ear, the warmth of his breath trailing down her neck.

Elisabeth tilted her head up. Jamie's dark eyes sparkled in the reflection of the overhead lights. “Yes. This is just about perfect.”

“Just about . . . ?” He shifted, leaning away from her. “What's wrong?”

“I wish we had the whole summer—” Elisabeth pressed her lips together. She and Bellamy had talked about this earlier while they got ready for prom at Elisabeth's house.
Don't let Jamie's leaving later this summer ruin tonight. Have fun.
Her best friend was right. Saying her thoughts out loud didn't change the inevitable, even as Elisabeth's words shadowed the present.

“Me, too.” Jamie's steps didn't falter as he continued to lead her in the dance. “But you know how hard I worked to earn the appointment to the Air Force Academy—”

“I know.” She forced her smile to reappear, hoping it hid any sadness in her eyes. “I'm proud of you, too. I'm going to miss you, that's all.”

“I'll miss you, too.” Jamie bent to brush her lips with his, pulling her closer. “And besides, technically I'm not the one leaving the state to go away to college.”

“You could have come with me to Biola.”

“But the whole point is for me to fly jets in the air force. And lots of couples do long-distance relationships. The good thing is, we live in the same hometown, so we'll see each other for the holidays. And we'll have fun planning our future after we both graduate college and get married. We'll travel, and Uncle Sam will foot the bill.” Jamie shook his head, his lazy grin appearing. “Why are we being so serious? Tonight's prom and we still have a few more weeks before I report to the Academy.”

“You're right.” Elisabeth turned her head away, blinking back the sudden burn of tears, the cloth of Jamie's suit jacket soft against her cheek. No tears tonight. She'd save those for when she had to say good-bye to Jamie.

“We'll spend as much time as we can together until I have to leave.” Jamie sounded so sure of himself. Of them. “And while I'm getting my head shaved and enduring basic training, you'll be back here, sleeping in late—”

“And thinking about you.” She slipped her fingers through the dark blond hair curling at the nape of his neck. “I hate that all of your hair is going to get cut off.”

“You'll still love me, though, right?”

She paused, as if considering her answer. And then as the music ended, she gave him a slow kiss. How many more kisses would they share before he left? “Of course I'll still love you, Jamie Travers. And I'll write you. Every single day.”

ONE

Nine Years Later

E
lisabeth stared at the bumper-to-bumper traffic snaking out in front of her along I-25, a long line of red lights leading the way to nowhere fast. The sky overhead hung dark and low, hinting of snow.

“Drive to Denver Thursday afternoon.” She adjusted her Bluetooth earpiece. “The traffic won't be that bad. What was I thinking?”

“You were being optimistic. Unrealistic, obviously, but optimistic.” Bellamy was understanding but honest.

“Thanks for that. I don't know what's worse. Dealing with antsy middle schoolers ready to start Christmas break and griping about having to take a test—or dealing with traffic and people who think nothing about driving along the shoulder to get to their exit.”

Even programming her iPhone to a favorite Spotify Christmas list and indulging in not one but two grape sodas hadn't helped. She was stalled along I-25 with all the other holiday travelers eager to get an early start on vacation.

“How much farther do you have to go?”

“I talked with Tori right before I called you to let her know I'm running late. I'm only about forty minutes away, but I'm guessing there's an accident up ahead that's snarling traffic like this.”

“Tori . . . Remind me who she is again, please. It seems like every time I talk to you, someone else has asked you to be part of their wedding.”

“You're not responsible to keep track of my matrimonial who's who, Belle. Tori's my friend from Biola—she's a middle school teacher like me.”

“Got it.”

“She and Peter are having the wedding in Denver because that's where her grandparents live. They don't travel much because of her grandfather's rheumatoid arthritis. So the whole family's in town, combining the wedding with a family Christmas.”

“That sounds like fun.”

“Agreed.” She paused as two more cars drove past her on the shoulder of the road, swallowing back the desire to yell at them about unsafe, self-centered driving. “I confess to daydreaming I'm driving to the airport because they planned an exotic destination wedding in Aruba or Bermuda. Then once all my maid-of-honor duties are done, I could relax on the beach and read some of the novels that are stockpiled on my e-reader and come back to work with a tan.”

“No daydreaming while you're driving.”

“I've been at a standstill for so long, this hardly qualifies as driving.” Elisabeth decreased the heat level in her car. “Let's talk about something else. Are you and Reid settling in to your new home?”

“Finally, but it will take a while before San Diego feels like home.”

“Still think it was the right decision for Reid to start working for his father?”

“He'll inherit the company one day, so yes. Right now he's still working as a CPA, doing what he loves, so it's a good compromise.”

“Do you think you'd be ready for company in June? I thought I might come visit once school gets out for the summer.”

“I'd love that! We could have so much fun.”

“Great.” Elisabeth hesitated. Should she say anything? “And maybe we could talk some—”

“Of course we'll talk. We always talk.”

“No. I mean, talk about some stuff I've been thinking about.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“I don't even know how to explain it, really. I'm just feeling . . . restless. Like it's time for a change.”

“A job change?”

“I don't think so. I love my job—even after weeks like this one. And I haven't been there that long.” Elisabeth released her grip on the steering wheel, flexing her fingers. “It's something I can't quite figure out. This is the first time I've even said anything out loud.”

“Then yes, we'll definitely talk about it when you come visit. And I'll start praying about it now.”

“Thanks. That helps. Oh—it looks like we're moving. I think I'll sign off and concentrate. This is the perfect opportunity for a fender bender and I don't want to start the wedding weekend off with that.”

“Smart idea. Drive safe and I'll try to call before the New Year.”

“Love you, Belle.”

“Love you, too, Lis.”

After saying good-bye, Elisabeth switched off Spotify and tried to enjoy the silence in the car, despite being hedged in by slow-moving traffic. Come Monday, when all of the wedding festivities were over, she'd shake off the tension of the last few days. All of her students' amusing but not-to-be-believed excuses for missing homework. All the complaints about how hard her test was—and how unfair it was to have a test right before vacation. The phone calls with several parents who were too busy to come in for parent-teacher conferences.

Maybe she'd experience somewhere sunny and warm the next time she was called into maid-of-honor duty. With her track record, she'd be adding to her collection of wear-it-once fancy dresses again.
Soon.

The GPS on her cell phone helped Elisabeth conquer her woeful sense of direction and find Tori's grandparents' home along a crowded street in an older part of Denver. Her third time circling the block yielded a parking space three houses down from the Hesslers'—one that didn't require dusting off her parallel-parking skills.

White Christmas lights were strung along the roof of the house, and the front window framed a lighted Christmas tree. A couple entered the house ahead of her as Elisabeth made her way up the sidewalk, music spilling out into the night.

Wait a minute. How many people were going to be here tonight? Her friend had said “Come for a casual family dinner,” not “We're having a party.” In her jeans, purple sweater, and black boots, with her makeup faded to nothing and her brown hair hanging down her back in a long French braid, Elisabeth could pass for a high schooler—not a twenty-seven-year-old ready to mingle with other adults.

The front door, which was decorated with an oversize wooden Christmas ornament decorated with red-and-white ribbon, jingle bells, and a red
H
, opened just as Elisabeth reached the porch.

“Lis! You're here!” Tori launched herself down the steps, her mass of wild black curls flying out behind her.

Elisabeth braced for her friend's catapulting hug. Tori lived life full throttle and affection was given with the force of a small-scale hurricane.

“I'm so glad you finally made it.” Tori squeezed her neck, talking and not letting go. “I'm sorry you had such an awful drive.”

“I'm not the one who planned a wedding right before Christmas.”

“Spoken like a teacher, Miss Straker.” Tori linked her arm through Elisabeth's and moved toward the house.

“I am a teacher. Whom else am I supposed to sound like?” Elisabeth assumed her best teacher's voice.

“
Whom.
And that sounds like an English teacher.” Tori squeezed her arm and smiled. “I'm so sorry Caleb couldn't make it.”

“He's got family commitments. Sends his apologies.”

“Apologies accepted. So, how are you guys? Are you getting serious?”

“Serious? No.”

“Oh, Lis, really? Last time we talked didn't you think—”

“Last time we talked, I was still in the ‘maybe this relationship could go somewhere' phase. I'm past that now—and so is he. We realize we like the same things, we get along well . . . and there's just no spark.” Elisabeth shrugged. “But until one of us finds someone who does create a spark, well, it's fine. For now, it's nice to have someone to go see a movie with.”

“One day you'll find the right guy. He's out there looking for you right now.”

“Yeah, yeah. He's just lost. Needs to stop and ask for directions, right?”

Tori stopped inside the foyer, which was cluttered with an assortment of shoes and boots, winter coats and scarves tossed on the wooden bench. Bing Crosby crooned “I'm dreaming of a White Christmas” in the background. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving. I grabbed a smoothie on my way out of town and had some veggies and nuts in the car. And I confess I indulged in a couple of grape sodas.” She put her hand on Tori's arm, stopping her from moving forward. “I thought you said we were having a family dinner. I'm not exactly dressed for a party.”

“
Pffft.
It's just the bridesmaids and groomsmen and some relatives. You look fine.”

Elisabeth tugged at the hem of her sweater. “I feel like I walked all the way here from Woodland Park.”

“You can freshen up in my bedroom.” Tori led her past the living room that was filled with dozens of people, the sound of conversation mingling with the lyrics of “I'll Be Home for Christmas.”

“Compared to you, I look like I'm going to run to the store to pick up groceries. Do I need to change?”

Tori shook her head. “You're fine. A lot of people are in jeans. I just threw on this dress because it's comfortable.”

“Okay. I'll slip upstairs and do something with my hair and then come join the party.”

Tori led the way, talking over her shoulder. “I wish we could put you up here, but my parents are staying here, of course. And me, too. I hope you like the hotel where you're staying.”

“The Brown Palace? Are you kidding me? I'm ready for a grand weekend away. Is anyone else local?”

“You live the closest, although one of the bridesmaids drove from Wyoming. So, yes, everyone else is from out of state, including Peter's best man. Oh my gosh . . . the best man is the nicest guy. And drop-dead gorgeous.”

Elisabeth arched an eyebrow. “Are you crushing on Peter's best man?”

“I'm about to become a married woman, remember? I was thinking about you.”

“But I'm dating Caleb.”

“You also said it was nothing serious, so why not have some fun this weekend?”

“Are we going to stand here and have a ridiculous conversation about a man I've never even met, or can I go and get ready, please?”

Tori opened the door to a bedroom. “Here you go. This is where I'm staying. The bathroom is right next door and my makeup is in the top vanity drawer. Use anything you want—Oh! My grandmother always keeps some spare toothbrushes in the linen closet. I'll bring you one. Hurry up, okay? My mom and grandmother have been making lasagna and fresh rolls for dinner and I want to introduce you to everyone before we eat.”

“Everyone?”

“Okay, not everyone. But at least the rest of the bridal party.” Tori hugged her again. “I'm so glad you're here. It's going to be the best weekend.”

• • •

Fifteen minutes later, Elisabeth did a quick bend over and flip back up, having undone her French braid in an attempt to look a little more dressed up. Her hair fell down to her waist in loose waves. Utilizing Tori's makeup, she'd refreshed her eyeliner and blush, and even spritzed on a light floral perfume she carried in a purse-size atomizer. Her outfit still bordered on plain, but at least she'd thought to wear a pair of silver hoop earrings.

It was simple enough to find her way to the kitchen. All she had to do was follow the rich aroma of baked lasagna mingled with the yeasty smell of bread down the hallway all the way to the kitchen. Tori's mother, who had the same curly black hair as her daughter, only cropped shorter, greeted Elisabeth with outstretched arms.

“You're here at last.” Her embrace was gentler than her daughter's, but just as affection-filled. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you, Mrs. H. I've missed you.”

“I haven't seen you since college graduation. And now can you believe Tori is getting married? You're next.”

“Oh, I don't know about that—”

“Tori told me you were dating someone—”

“Caleb's nice enough, but we're just friends. And he'd say the same thing about me if he were here.”

With her arm around Elisabeth's waist, Tori's mom turned her to face a plump older woman with short gray hair wearing a bright green apron decorated with a cheery red-nosed Rudolph the reindeer. “Mom, this is Elisabeth. She's Tori's maid of honor.”

“It's so nice to meet you, dear.”

“I'm so glad to finally meet you, too. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Before her grandmother could answer, Tori invaded the kitchen. “Is Lis in here? She needs to meet everyone.”

“Yes, I'm right here, but I just offered to help your grandmother—”

“You are not hiding in the kitchen. I want you to meet some people—” Tori clasped her hand around Lis's wrist and tugged her away from the kitchen counter. “—Starting with the guy I was telling you about. Jet is Peter's best man and he'll be your partner for the weekend.”

Elisabeth followed Tori through the dining room into the living room, where clusters of people stood or sat together. Conversation flowed through the room, which contained the tall Christmas tree decorated with tinsel and twinkling white lights centered by the front window. Leading her up to a trio of men, Tori started right into introductions.