The Calendar of New Beginnings (42 page)

Not that he could eat anything, mind you. He picked up his gift for her and exited his car. She was either going to get it or she wouldn’t, and there was nothing he could do to change that.

When she opened the door, the brilliant shades of her auburn hair and green eyes seemed all the more dear, all the more lustrous. There was worry between her brows, and when he leaned down to kiss her cheek, he felt like he was wading through raw honey to get close to her.
 

Things were weird between them again, and part of him wished he’d never opened his big mouth. But he knew better. A person got the kind of love they asked for, and he wasn’t going to keep hiding what he wanted from himself or her because it was more comfortable or convenient.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said, putting her arms around him suddenly. “When you said you couldn’t see me yesterday, I got a little worried. I was the one who supposedly needed more time to think about things.”

He edged back and produced the gift he’d hidden behind his back. “One day didn’t seem like a lot of time, but I needed it to arrange this. I…” Crap. What should he say? “I hope you like it.”

She gave him a puzzled look, but stepped back to let him inside. He closed the door behind him.

“Why don’t we sit in your parlor?” he suggested. “You can open it there.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” she said, but she went ahead and sat down.
 

He sat down beside her, putting more space between them than usual to set her at ease.

She unwrapped the orange wrapping paper from the large white box he’d selected to disguise the shape of the gift. When she pulled back the purple tissue paper Moira had thrown into the box, she pressed a hand to her mouth.
 

But he heard the soft exclamation of air escape from her mouth.

He shifted on the couch. “I couldn’t reach you the other day, so I thought I’d try to speak your language. Don’t you always say, ‘a picture is worth a thousand words’?”

She turned and stared at him.

“Lucy, these photos are my words to you,” he told her, wanting to take her hand. “And Danny’s. He helped contribute too.”

The graceful line of her throat rippled with emotion. “You called it The Calendar of New Beginnings,” she said, tears filling her eyes.

He cleared his throat. “I thought it was a pretty great title, and since it’s only for you, I knew it would be okay if I used it. Our moms wouldn’t care.”

“But this is your
house
on the front!” she said, puzzlement washing over her face. “And you and Danny sitting on the front porch? How did you do this? When?”

“I asked Moira to help me. I had some photos, and she took the ones we were missing. There are plenty of online calendar makers in case you didn’t know. I couldn’t get it finished and printed yesterday, so that’s why it had to wait until this morning.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry I put you off, but I…needed to have this ready before we talked. Lucy, I want you to understand what I’m saying about the future.”

She touched the cover then and started flipping through the calendar. “I remember this photo of us,” she said, tracing the edges of the photo he’d selected for January.

Their teacher had caught them napping together in kindergarten.

“Mom had this one,” he said, remembering how moved she’d been by his request to go through the old albums for photos of him and Lucy. “She said Mrs. Hanover thought it was the cutest thing she’d ever seen in all her years of teaching, the way we’d cuddle up together, forehead to forehead, holding hands while we napped on our colored mats.”

Her head was nodding as she sniffed. “We really were the best of friends. Even then.”

“Yeah,” he said, trying to hold it together. They were only on January.

She finally flipped the page. February put the first brush of a smile on her lips. “I always was shoving you up a tree when we were kids.”

“It’s a medical fact girls have more upper body strength than boys before puberty.”

There was a decided snort beside him. “Keep telling yourself that. I liked that you climbed trees with me.”

“You liked to, so I had to keep up. It’s what friends do.”

She sniffed again and turned the page. March showed them doing math homework on her bed when they were in sixth grade. “I think you spent more time with me in my room growing up than I did by myself.”

“That’s because we hated to be apart,” he said, nudging her with his shoulder.

“My mom took this picture,” she said, turning and narrowing her eyes at him.

Busted. “I had to go to your mother for some of the photos I had in mind, but I swear we didn’t speak. Neither of us wants to get into any more trouble with you.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder like she used to when they were kids together. “You’re not in trouble. I’m sorry you thought that. I just…had things to work out.”

He bit his tongue to keep from asking for more clarification. She turned the next page. April showed them hanging out at a high school football game.

“Personally, I don’t know what you were thinking with your hair,” he said dryly.

She made an aggrieved sound. “Is that a scrunchie?”

He had sisters. He knew what a scrunchie was. Peering closer, he said, “Yep, hot pink.”

“I was making a statement.”

“Sure you were,” he added, feeling the rhythm of their friendship returning.

When she turned the page to May, she said,
“I don’t remember seeing this.”

“My mom did,” he said, feeling his ears burn. “She hid it from me. I found it when I was going through the albums.”

“But why? So, we danced at prom. All I remember is you stepping on my toes to ‘Candle in the Wind’ by Elton John.”

He still hated that song. “You don’t see it, do you? Look closer. There’s a reason my mother took the photo and didn’t show it to us.”

She lifted the calendar until it was a foot away from her face.
“Oh!”

“Yeah,” he said, clearing his throat. “I might have had a moment. All I remember is dancing with you, and then suddenly all I could think about was how good you smelled, which turned into thinking about how pretty you looked. I lost the beat and stepped on your feet.”

“It wasn’t a fast song,” she said in a dry tone. “You
liked
me.”

“Yeah, in that moment,” he admitted. “I liked how soft you felt in my arms, and I had some pretty lusty thoughts for my age. It scared me. We were friends. I was sure you’d kill me if you realized what I was thinking.”

“I didn’t realize it at the moment. My toe was throbbing. Those were open-toed shoes!”

His frustration was rising, for both himself and the boy he’d been. “Would you forget about the shoes? I showed you this because I wanted you to see there was always the promise of something more between us. Now turn the page.”

When she looked at him, she blinked a few times. “You’re upset.”

He strove for patience—like he did when Danny asked for a drink of water for the fourth time at bedtime. “A touch. I’ll get over it.”

She turned the next page. June showed them together with their respective families and Kim. They were all gathered together at Lucy’s parents’ house amidst an abundance of Christmas lights. She was sitting between him and Kim, and they were all laughing at one another’s holiday sweaters.

“I never fully told you how happy it made me that you and Kim got along so well,” he said, his throat thickening as he stared at the woman who had been his wife next to the woman he now hoped to spend the rest of his life with. Choosing this picture had been the most difficult for him, but after changing his mind more than a few times, he’d decided to go with his gut.

“How could I not like the woman you’d fallen in love with?” she asked, and he wondered if it was his imagination, but she seemed to cuddle closer to his side. “Besides, she made you so happy.”

Tears popped into his eyes. “Yeah, she did, and I’ll always look on our time together with love and joy. But she’s not here now. You are.”

When she met his gaze, there were tears in her eyes too.

Chapter 33
      

Lucy wanted to bundle Andy up in a giant hug. How hard must it have been for him to include a photo of the three of them together?

“You make me so happy, Lucy,” he said, wiping at his eyes with his jacket.

Her heart continued to expand in her chest, smarting with every millimeter it gained. “You make me happy too. You always did.”

His smile flashed across his serious face. “Okay. Now turn the page.”

She was going to say,
yes, sir,
to lighten the mood, but when she saw the photo he’d chosen for June, she pretty much dissolved.

“Where did you get this?” she asked, tracing a photo of herself on assignment in Uganda. “I was working with a local photographer on an AIDS calendar. He took this photo of me at the orphanage where we were taking photos of children whose parents had died from AIDS. Part of my contract with the NGO was to train a leading local photojournalist. Anthony was great. He works for
The London Times
now.”

“Moira found this picture by doing a simple Google Images search of your name. Then she copied it and worked her magic to include it in the calendar.”
 

A sense of wonder furled around her still-expanding heart. He’d valued this part of her enough to include it in the calendar.

“Lucy,” he said in a deep voice. “I know you still don’t believe I understand what your career means to you, but I do. I want you to be who you are. It’s who I love. Your work is important.”

She was too moved to speak.

“I hoped showing this to you would help you understand that I mean that,” he said, taking her hand and putting it on his heart. “I want you to have everything you could ever want. I just hope that will include me.”

Hope was shining in his eyes, as bright as the stars over the savannah. She could see he meant it. A surge of emotion pushed through her chest, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. Everything felt like it was crumbling again, but she wasn’t scared.
 

Arthur had helped her bring the old frame through which she had seen herself and her relationships into full focus. But now it was starting to crack and fall away, like an old camera lens dropped on the ground. She tightened her grip on Andy’s hand.

“Andy, I’m not afraid anymore either,” she said as soon as she could talk again. “I want it to include you. And Danny and the rest of our family.”

His other hand came up and cupped her cheek. “You have no idea how happy that makes me,” he said, wiping more tears away from her eyes. “Okay, go ahead and turn the page.”

Turn the page? She was almost too lost in the moment to register the words. “I love you.”

His face softened. “And I love you. Let’s move on to August.”

Since he was being so unusually insistent, she went ahead and did as he’d suggested. Then she laughed. “Oh, I see how it goes.”

“I wanted to make sure you understand I have another purpose outside of the home too.”

The photo was of him sitting beside an elderly woman, who was hooked up to all sorts of tubes and IVs. Her face was taut with pain, but she was smiling weakly at Andy.

“That’s Mrs. Grayer,” he told her. “I asked her if Moira could take this picture yesterday when I was doing rounds. She has stage four lung cancer, and she knows she isn’t going to make it. I was talking with her about hospice.”

Looking at the photo again, she noticed the compassion and sadness on his face. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, me too. She’s a really nice lady. Has fifteen grandkids, all of whom are decimated at the thought of losing their nana.” He took a breath. “I included this photo because I want you to know that sometimes I bring work home with me. Emotionally. I try not to. I didn’t always tell Kim about the bad cases. There was this one time the medics brought in a three-year-old who’d been run over by a car…”

She gripped his hand. “I want you to tell me about those days,” she said, realizing they were making a pact of sorts.

“And I want you to tell me about hiding from soldiers who are shooting street children,” he said in a harsh tone. “I can’t guarantee it won’t upset me because that’s fucking awful, and I love you. I’ll worry too, but I’ll manage it.”

“Deal,” she said, giving him an encouraging smile.

“Seems we’re making some progress here,” he said with an answering smile. “Turn the next page.”

She did, and that’s when everything inside her exploded anew. September displayed two half-eaten ice cream cones resting on an outdoor table.

“And when we do have bad days or bad moments,” he said softly, “we’re going to share our ice cream cones because that’s what partners do.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“And if you’re on assignment, I’m going to send you ice cream emoticons over Skype or something until you come home.”

Home. For so long it had been something other people had. She leaned over and kissed him on the mouth. “Thank you for believing I’ll be able to return to what I love. I talked to Arthur yesterday, and he helped me see that I may feel differently about my lifestyle than I did before. I won’t want to spend as much time in the field as I used to because…”