Chapter Two
Let me go back a bit, to explain.
On the first day of school at my new job, I had met a young man named Wes Radcliffe. He taught gym and had been working at the school for two years before I arrived. Like me, he was hired straight out of a local university.
We quickly discovered that we lived in the same apartment building, which was not far from the school, so we started walking back and forth together every day.
Our conversations were open and lively. Often we talked about our experiences and challenges as teachers. We shared funny stories and gave each other advice and support when needed.
On top of that, we had all sorts of things in common outside of work, like favorite movies and music. Soon we began spending time together as friends on weekends. But at the end of the school year, when he told me that a woman from his gym had asked him out on a date, I finally realized that I was in love with him—the elusive head over heels kind of love that I’d never imagined I would ever allow myself to feel.
Suddenly, the idea of my best friend going out on a date with another woman sent me into a jealous tizzy. As we rode the elevator in our building, going up, he turned to me and asked, point blank, if he should say yes to her.
My stomach churned with anxiety and I couldn’t look at him. All I could do was shrug and say, “If that’s what you want to do.”
The elevator doors opened, and before I realized what was happening, Wes reached for my hand, pulled me back in, and kissed me passionately on the mouth. The doors shut again and we rode the rest of the way up to his apartment while I lost my mind to happiness and desire, and melted in his arms.
That was the moment I knew that I would be his forever. Body and soul.
I’m not sure what exactly had caused me to throw caution to the wind so completely in the space of a single heartbeat. But looking back on it, it hadn’t actually happened in a heartbeat. The strength of our friendship had evolved slowly, building trust and affection one day at a time, walking back and forth from school, talking to each other about personal things without any pressure to date or kiss or flirt.
I had confided in Wes about my father’s death early on, and explained how it affected me—how that was probably the reason I’d never been in love. I believe that’s why Wes handled me with kid gloves during the first year. He didn’t rush me into anything, until that day on the elevator, but by then, we had already built the trust.
Wes, in turn, told me that he was blessed with two parents who were still together and in love after thirty years of marriage. He explained this to show me that happy endings were possible, and not every love story had to end in heartbreak. Not every parent is taken away from every child.
When he finally kissed me, I realized he was right—that sometimes love could last forever.
So I accepted the fact that I couldn’t live without him. How could I, when he’d become my best friend? (And he was wildly handsome as well; I couldn’t take my eyes off him whenever he walked into a room.)
Our blossoming romance was tricky at first, professionally. We both felt a need to keep it secret at work for as long as possible, but eventually—when there was no question that we were serious—we announced it to our co-workers.
Two years later, we tied the knot during the month of October in a cozy church wedding, just outside the city.
Bev was my maid of honor, and as my mother walked me down the aisle, I had a hard time holding back tears because I wished my father could have been there, too. But soon, my tears became tears of joy when I saw Wes looking at me with love and adoration, as if I were the perfect woman he’d always dreamed of marrying.
In his eyes, I saw anticipation for the future, and his expression caused a flood of emotion in me. He was the only man I had ever loved. The only man I trusted enough to keep my heart safe, and I couldn’t wait to begin our new life together.
We honeymooned on the Mediterranean—a gift from Wes’s parents, who were very well-to-do.
When we returned, we moved into his apartment, which was larger than mine and had better views of the water in the Northwest Arm. We enjoyed sitting out on our balcony in the evenings, watching the sailboats come and go from the yacht clubs.
Those early years as newlyweds were magical, and for the first time in my life, everything seemed to be falling into place, and the hole in my heart was beginning to heal. I wasn’t afraid anymore. I was confident that I had made the right decision, taking a fearless leap of faith into marriage and complete, uninhibited love, come what may.