Page 50 of Love 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 youdowant 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 CROSSEDthe 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.
