16
The memory of his beginning with Elizabeth wouldn’t leave him alone, just the way John had feared. He could only thank God that Elaine was understanding. She didn’t have to tell him how distant he’d been or how he’d barely engaged in their few conversations.
Yesterday evening he’d found her out front in one of their two rocking chairs. She was reading the Bible, and as he approached she looked up and smiled. Actually smiled at him. “Hello, John.”
“Elaine.” He took the chair beside her. “I’m interrupting.”
“Never.” Her tone was soft, and he could sense her spirit was, too. “I was reading Hebrews. About faith.”
John nodded. “One of my favorite passages.”
She looked more intently at him. “What’s on your heart?”
Elaine always said that. What’s on your heart? She didn’t want to know only the thoughts of someone she loved. She wanted to know what was going on at a deeper level. One of the reasons John cared about her so much.
“I’m sorry. I know . . . I’ve said it a few times these last weeks, but I really mean it. This whole interview thing . . . it’s taken me back, and it’s like . . .” He stared at the sky for a moment, then at her. “Like I’m living again in that faraway time and I can’t quite come home yet.”
Compassion colored Elaine’s expression. “Can I tell you a story?”
Her question caught John off guard. “Of course.” He settled back in his rocking chair. And Elaine proceeded to tell him about a high school friend of hers. Mary Ellen. Someone she’d just reconnected with through Facebook. The woman’s husband was killed in a train accident on a business trip to Europe when their kids were in middle school.
“The accident devastated her.” Elaine didn’t have to draw the comparison. It was obvious.
Elaine went on to explain that a few years later Mary Ellen fell in love with a single man from church. The two of them were very happy, but every year around the time of the accident, Mary Ellen took a week and deeply remembered her first husband.
“Mary Ellen goes to a quiet hotel up in the mountains. She reads letters from him and looks at photos. She writes in her journal the things she would like to say to him if she could. She prays for their children, that they’ll continue to grow strong in their faith and in their dad’s image.”
John sucked in a quick breath. What was Elaine saying? He shook his head without really knowing it. “How does . . . her current husband feel about that?”
Elaine’s face relaxed, filled with a beautiful understanding. “It was his idea.”
What? Sending his wife off to think about her first husband was the man’s idea? John hesitated for a few seconds and then he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “What does he do while she’s gone?”
“On the last day he meets her there. She tells him the story of her first husband and some of the happier moments.” Elaine paused. Like even she couldn’t believe how beautiful and unusual her friend’s story was. “They talk for hours and they pray for their family, and then—together—they come back home.”
John couldn’t think of a single thing to say. The idea of going back every year to the beginning with Elizabeth—the way he had these last weeks—was more than he could fathom. “I’m not sure I’d want to spend so much time in the past. Every year like that.”
The air was brisk between them, the moon a sliver in the sky. Elaine reached for his hand. “That’s what I thought you’d say.” She smiled, and even in the dim light, love shone in her eyes. “But whenever you do want to go back, whenever you need to go back, you have my blessing, John. Whenever.”
John’s heart felt suddenly light inside him. She was giving him a very great gift, something he had never expected.
Permission to remember.
“Elaine, I . . . I . . .” His throat was too tight to speak. He waited, looking into her eyes. “Thank you. This isn’t about my feelings for you.” He stood and eased her to her feet. “You know that, right?”
“I do.” She pressed the side of her face to his. “Take your time, John. And when you’re done, I’ll be here.” Her eyes met his again. “Always.”
And now it was Thursday again and Cole and Ashley were settling in with him in the living room. For the most part, John had been summarizing when it came to telling Cole what happened. He spared the teenager the specifics other than to say, “Your grandmother and I were passionately in love. We couldn’t stay away from each other. We saw each other as often as we could.”
That sort of thing.
John picked up a letter from the table beside him. “This letter”—he looked at Cole—“is what turned everything around.”
As he spoke, the story came to life in living color for John. Every touch and sound and smell and feeling.
The way it most certainly would today.
• • •
ONCE THEY’D CROSSED the line, once John and Elizabeth had gone places they never intended to go, there was nothing they could do to leave. It was fall, and the Wesley family spent every weekend at their lake house. John would normally have gone, too. But he was taking a heavy course load. Too much homework, he told them.
Which was true.
What he didn’t tell them was that those weekends gave him time with Elizabeth. And even though they’d gone too far, every Friday night when they went out, John promised himself nothing would happen this time. Nothing more than kissing. A few beers and a little kissing. He was determined.
And every time he was wrong.
John wasn’t the only one to blame. Some nights—when her parents thought she was at Betsy’s house studying—Elizabeth would ask to stay longer. Just another hour more. By the fifth weekend, they both knew what was going to happen. And though they promised each other it wouldn’t, they were simply unable to do anything else.
What God might think of what they were doing never occurred to John. His knowledge of God never intersected with his behavior. He was a good guy. He’d barely dated until Elizabeth. He felt bad about what was happening but only because Elizabeth was lying to her parents.
Things were a little different for Elizabeth. She also felt guilty for lying. But not nearly guilty enough to stop. This was her first ever experience with freedom. Her parents’ faith was the reason she hadn’t been allowed to dance or sing pop songs or attend school social functions. Spending time with John was the most exciting thing she’d done in her life. It didn’t matter if they went to the lake or on a drive into the country, wasn’t any difference whether they swam in the river or made a bonfire on the beach.
As long as they were together.
In their sixth week, when the semester was getting hectic, Elizabeth began feeling sick. Every morning she woke with nausea and dizziness. She’d rarely been sick in all her life, but she couldn’t seem to get out of bed without running to the bathroom. When the nausea turned to vomiting, Elizabeth knew she needed to see a doctor. And there was another problem.
Her period was late.
John was a premed student, of course, so when Elizabeth told him her symptoms, he didn’t need a pregnancy test to know what was wrong. Elizabeth was expecting. They confirmed it with a blood test, which John performed clandestinely at the University of Michigan laboratory.
“I’m not pregnant.” She had insisted as much from the moment he suggested it. “It’s probably allergies. Milk, maybe.”
The day John read the test results was one he would never forget. He found Elizabeth outside her next class and brought her to a picnic table on a quiet part of campus. They held hands across the splintered wood. What he was about to say would change their lives forever.
“Elizabeth, I’m sorry.” If only he could turn back the clock. If he could change things so he never would have taken her back to his house that first night. He closed his eyes for a brief moment and then looked straight at her. “You’re pregnant.”
“No.” She was in shock. She had to be. No other way to explain how her eyes grew wide and her face a chalky sort of pale. Elizabeth stood, her body clearly trembling. “I’m not, John. I can’t be.” She looked over her right shoulder and then her left. As if she were terrified someone might have heard him. Including herself. Then her eyes found his again. “I can’t be. No.”
“Elizabeth.” He stood and moved around the table. “We can do this. We’ll find a way.”
But as he came closer, she moved a few steps back. She shook her head, tears flooding her eyes. “No, John. It won’t be okay. This will never be okay.”
A rough few days followed. Elizabeth refused to see him or talk to him. He’d wait for her near her classroom, but she’d turn the other direction on her way out. Then on the fourth day, he was sitting at a table on the lawn of the medical building when she came up behind him.
She sat down and turned to him. “I’m sorry.” Again she seemed to be shaking.
They were in deep trouble, but the joy he felt that day was something he would carry with him forever. She had come back to him. His heart beat hard against his chest. “Why in the world are you sorry?”
Elizabeth could’ve answered a dozen ways but she didn’t. Instead she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on to him. Only then did her tears come in earnest. She began to cry and that led to a series of sobs.
The autumn sun shone down on their shoulders, and a breeze played in the red and yellow leaves nearby. Finally Elizabeth gained enough control to speak. “I couldn’t believe it was true.” She shook her head. “I felt like my world was falling apart.”
Her face was gripped with fear. He slid his fingers between hers. And in that moment he was home. No matter what came next, they would be together. “Elizabeth. I thought I’d lost you.”
“No.”
“And I’m the one who’s sorry.” He ran his thumb lightly along her cheekbone. “You’re just a freshman. I should’ve never taken you home, Elizabeth.”
Her cheeks grew red, but she didn’t look away. “I wanted to be with you. We’re both to blame.”
She was right, but John was the guy and he was older. He couldn’t let her feel this was her fault. “It’s me, Elizabeth. I knew better.” He could hear the other med students heading into the building. The break was over, but John wasn’t leaving. He blinked a few times. “Where do we go from here?”
“I need to tell my parents.”
“No.” This time he was sure what they had to do next. He would never let her face them alone. “We need to tell them.”
Which is exactly what they did. That night Elizabeth was home working on an essay for English 101 when John knocked on the door. Her father answered it. From where John stood he could see Elizabeth at the kitchen table, her books spread out. She turned toward him just as her father’s face twisted into a scowl.
“Can I help you?” His brow lowered down around the bridge of his nose.
For a second, John met Elizabeth’s eyes. She looked more certain than scared. She stood and took slow, silent steps in his direction. John looked at the man and cleared his throat. “Yes, sir. My name’s John Baxter.” He dug his hands deep into his jeans. “I’d like to talk to you and your wife. About your daughter, Elizabeth.”
“My daughter?” He shook his head. “We’re not interested. She’s not interested.” He stepped back to shut the door. “Besides, she’s too young to date.”
Elizabeth had reached the place where she was almost standing next to her father. “Daddy . . . he needs to talk to you.” She put her hand on his arm, but he jerked away. They’d come too far for either of them to turn back now.
“Sir, if you’d let me in.” John waited. He didn’t want to have the conversation on the porch.
“Please, Daddy.” Elizabeth sounded stronger than John had ever heard her before. “We need to talk to you and Mama. Both of us.”
Her father’s scowl worsened. “I have no interest in speaking to this boy, whatever he has to say.” He hesitated. “Leave this house now, you hear me? Leave or I’ll—”
Elizabeth’s mother had come up behind her husband. She must’ve caught the gist of the conversation, because she put her hand on his shoulder. “Let’s hear the young man out.”
The woman didn’t look any happier than Elizabeth’s father. But at least she was willing to listen to what John had to say. What they both had to say. An awkward few minutes later they were seated in the family living room. John and Elizabeth together on one sofa. Her parents beside each other on the other.
Another person could’ve sat between them for the space John was careful to leave. He started the conversation. “I realize you don’t know me. But I’ve been dating your daughter for the past several weeks.”
It was a bad beginning to the conversation, and things went downhill from there. John explained that the two of them had fallen in love and then John said something he hadn’t planned to say. Not yet anyway.
“I want to marry your daughter, sir.” His eyes found those of his nemesis across from him. “I’d like your permission for her hand.”
The yelling began then. “You’re out of your mind, boy.” Her dad was on his feet. “Get out of my house.” He pointed toward the front door. “Now!”
At that point Elizabeth was on her feet, too. “Daddy! Sit down! Please! John’s not going anywhere.” She looked at John, and despite the anger and tension of the moment, her eyes told him yes. Yes, she wanted to marry him. As much as he wanted to marry her.
“What’s this all about?” Her mother slid to the edge of the sofa. Uptight didn’t begin to describe her expression. “Elizabeth, you sit down. And don’t ever take that tone with your father.”
All of them sat once more, and John had no choice. He swallowed hard. “Sir, this is complicated.”
Elizabeth reached over and took John’s hand. He had never loved her more. “Daddy, I’m pregnant.” She took a quick breath. Again, John could see her heart beating at the hollow of her throat. “John and I are going to have a baby.”
No matter how hard John tried he couldn’t remember everything that happened next. For nearly an hour, everyone took turns yelling and crying and making sweeping statements about what the plan of action should be. But the bottom line was simply this:
John couldn’t take care of Elizabeth. He was a medical student, not a doctor. No matter how he might be able to support her in the years to come, he wasn’t there now. And her parents made it very clear that the two weren’t welcome to live with them.
Then Elizabeth’s father produced an ultimatum. She would withdraw from school and leave for a home for unwed teens. Perhaps in Minnesota. Or maybe Wisconsin or Illinois. Somewhere far enough so John couldn’t find her, couldn’t see her.
Elizabeth would go away and have the baby, and then she would give the infant up for adoption. At that point, she would return to Ann Arbor and start school again.
As if nothing had ever happened.
Elizabeth told John later that she had wanted to scream or throw something, gather her belongings and run out the door all the way to his house. But what were her options? John certainly understood why Elizabeth felt trapped.
She explained everything to him the next day before class. Her parents were making the call to withdraw her later that afternoon. John figured the two of them had just one last chance. He went home that day and told the Wesleys. They weren’t angry or demeaning. They admitted these things happen.
But even if John and Elizabeth married that week, there was no way the two of them could move in with them. Not enough room. “It was one thing to take you in.” Mr. Wesley was kind as he gave his answer. “We cannot take in you and your wife and a baby. I’m sorry.”
And that was that.
John could do nothing to stop the chain of events that followed. He felt like a statue, his heart more stone than flesh. He was powerless to change things, unable to be with Elizabeth or even talk to her. The day after the Wesleys told him no, John went to her English class and waited for her.
But she never came out.
Like her dad had promised, she’d been pulled from school. So he drove to her house the next night at two in the morning. Her parents wouldn’t be awake then, he figured. He was right. John tapped on Elizabeth’s window, and she slipped out. She was wearing a long flannel nightgown, and she began crying as soon as she saw him.
“You came!” Her voice was a tortured cry.
“Shh . . .” She was in his arms now and he whispered into her hair. “We can’t let them hear us.”
“Right.” She stifled the sound of her sobs and clung to him. “I’m so scared, John. I leave in a week. I don’t even know where I’m going. Somewhere in Illinois. That’s what I heard my father say.”
For a long while they held each other. Time was short, so John got to the point. “We need a plan. They can’t keep us apart forever.”
Elizabeth nodded. Her beautiful eyes were so afraid. “Like what?”
John’s mind raced, desperate for a solution. “Try to find out where you’re going. You can tell Betsy and she can tell me. Then I’ll come to you, Elizabeth.”
Her tears came harder. “What about the baby?” She put her hand on her stomach. “I don’t want to lose our child, John. It’s not fair.”
John had wrestled with this, too. Her father was right about one thing. Elizabeth was young. She deserved the chance to finish her education. Until now John hadn’t known whether she wanted to raise the baby or not. “So . . . you’re saying you do want to get married? Keep our child?”
“Of course. School can come later. Or not at all.” She used the palms of her hands to wipe her tears. “I want us to be a family.”
John had never felt more helpless. “We have nowhere to live, no money.” He clenched his jaw, his mind racing. “I’ll find a way to make it work, Elizabeth. I’ll do whatever I can.”
They kissed goodbye, both of them desperate to see a light at the end of their tunnel. John almost wished he had a faith in God. Because he needed help now more than ever. Instead, as they were kissing a light came on at the back of the house. Elizabeth jerked away. “I have to go.”
“I love you.” John helped her up and through her window.
“I love you, too. Come tomorrow, John. Please.”
He was moving away now, heading for the street. He’d parked several houses down. “I will. I promise.”
His feet pounded a rhythm keeping time with his heart as he made his way to his car and drove off. Over the next few days he couldn’t call her, didn’t know how she was feeling or what she was doing or where her parents were about to send her. That night he waited up until two in the morning and again he went to her house.
But this time she wasn’t there. He could see her bed through a crack in the curtains. It was empty. John took a few steps away from the window, shocked. What was he supposed to do now? Where had they taken her? Just then the front porch light flicked on.
“I knew that was you last night.” Her father spat the words in his direction. “She’s gone, John Baxter. We moved her to a place where you can’t find her.” He took a couple menacing steps in John’s direction. “Don’t come here. Not ever again.”
There was nothing John could say. Nothing he could do.
The next day he talked to Betsy. “Find her for me. Please.” He must’ve sounded desperate because she looked almost alarmed. His voice broke. “I have to see her before she leaves.”
By then Betsy knew about the pregnancy. “I’ll try, John . . . Her dad would kill me if he knew I was talking to you.”
He thanked her but after a few days Betsy got back to him. Elizabeth was gone. Betsy had no idea where her parents had moved her. There was nothing more she could do to help.
And then John had no choice but to live his life. Wake up each morning and go to class, study for exams, write papers, then come home and fall asleep, only to do it all over again the next day.
All while he felt like he was dying.
Nights were the worst. John would lie in bed, eyes open, trying to imagine where she was or how she was feeling. He missed her so much most days he felt like he was suffocating. He’d dream at night about falling into a raging river and never having the strength to get to the bank. Just tossing and turning helplessly through the churning water.
Waking up from the nightmare didn’t help.
As the days turned to weeks, and the weeks to months he did research on the progress of her pregnancy. What she must’ve been feeling, what her body was going through, how the baby was growing.
When the semester ended, he got a call from Betsy. She met him at a park halfway between their houses.
“I have the address. Here.” She handed him a folded few pieces of paper. “She wrote you a letter, too.”
He thanked her, and long after Betsy was gone, John sat at the park in the freezing cold and stared at the letter. Her words kept him warm. Over and over again he let his eyes wander the length of the page. Then he’d start over again at the beginning.
Dear John,
I’m so sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye. They moved me to my aunt’s house at first, and then a few days later my father drove me to Illinois. I live in a house with five other girls. Pregnant, like me. All of them sent away. Most of us want to keep our babies, but none of us know how to make that happen.
John, I ache for you every day, every hour. I want you to know that. But I couldn’t write until now. My father left strict instructions with the houseparents that I wasn’t supposed to write letters to anyone.
Yesterday, he called me to tell me the final adoption plan and I begged him to let me write to Betsy. I still can’t believe he agreed. I guess he thinks you’re out of the picture. Out of my life—just because we haven’t seen each other.
Anyway, I’m sending you the address. You can’t write to me, unless you give the letter to Betsy and have her send it. That would work, I think. For now, anyway. Until my father figures out what we’re doing.
I still don’t want to give our baby up, John. But I don’t see any other way. It’s harder every day without you, every day watching my belly get bigger and knowing that I’ll never see this child grow up. If only there were something we could do.
I love you always,
Elizabeth
John couldn’t get enough of the precious few pages. And by the next day—despite everything working against them—he had something he hadn’t had since they’d gotten news of the baby.
He had a plan.