Use Somebody (81 page)

Every time his smile made a resurgence, it grew a little warmer.

“I have no intention of making you give up all your dreams,” he said softly.

“But what about you?”

“My goals are to finish school and work on houses. I can do that anywhere. But you know what I can’t do anywhere?” He tenderly tucked a curl behind my ear. “Be near you.”

My eyes widened with realization. “You don’t mean—”

“There’s a house not far from here that could use some renovation,” he grinned widely at the prospect. “I’ve already got some projects on the calendar. That should keep me busy for a few months. And come January… I’ll officially be a junior at this fine institution.”

I stared at him, touched. “You applied to Rockwall University? For me?”

“I was hopeful it would all work out. Otherwise this might’ve been really creepy.”

“You’d move here, for me?”

He took my face in his hands. “Rosie, when will you realize I’d do anything for you?”

A joyous sound erupted from my throat, somewhere between a laugh and a cry. My heart felt happy, light; even the oxygen tasted sweet. At last, the man that I craved deep in my bones was back in my grasp. What had I ever done to deserve this wonderful, loving man? All I knew was this time, I was committed to spend the rest of my life loving him back.

“I love you, Vance.”

He closed his eyes momentarily to savor my words. “To the stars and back?”

“Well, I could prove it,” I said coyly, looking up into those curious, steadfast, amazing green eyes. “But I believe you said you weren’t going to kiss me?”

“I lied,” is all he said.

And then he did.

[Journal]

If someone were to ask me, “what was the worst time in your life?” I would pause. Sure, that year was by far the most challenging. I made mistakes. I faced horrific truths. But it was also when I learned the most. When I grew the most. When I discovered the meaning of forgiveness and redemption. And better yet, true love.

So how could I ever regret it?

* * *

I closed my journal and tilted my head back, letting the California summer warm my skin for the first time in almost three years. It was a perfect day, seventy-eight degrees and not a cloud in the sky. The aroma of roses in full bloom wafted along the open air. A light breeze blew through the trees, swaying the branches, rustling the leaves, and tossing my auburn curls like a lover’s fingers. I sighed contentedly in this moment of bliss.

Solitude.

Introverts lived for moments like this—to be surrounded by the beauty of nature, alone in peace and quiet. I had grown to learn it was so much more desirable than the noise pollution of other distractions. As much as I enjoyed the company of those I loved, there was something about quiet solitude that revitalized me. And oh, how I had missed those mountains.

“Hey Rosie.”

I turned and smiled as he approached, so handsome and warm, like my own personal sun. He smiled back at me, radiating hope and trust and love against the blue backdrop of a cloudless sky. By his presence alone, everything was right in the world.

He leaned down and kissed my temple.

“Mmm. Hi handsome.”

He walked behind me and gave me a gentle push, launching my swing into the air.

“I talked to the chapel,” he said, pausing long enough to build suspense. But I could tell by the smile in his voice that he had good news.

“And?”

“And… they’re available on our date. I put down the deposit.”

My laugh was lighthearted and my feet kicked, simply because they could not contain my joy. “We’re getting married in four months!” I shouted into the sky.

As my swing flew backward, he wrapped his arms around me, both of us rocking with the momentum.

“Perfect,” he said in my ear.

I giggled as he attacked my neck with tiny kisses. That’s right—even after three years together, we were still that obnoxious couple who was overly affectionate in public. But we were young and in love, and I was through holding us back. After I had denied him a real relationship for all those months, it was the very least I could do.

Not that it was completely selfless on my part. I could never get enough of him, either.

Vance and I had spent the last three years pursuing our dreams in Texas. This month we both graduated with honors in business; me specializing in communications, and him in entrepreneurship. He had successfully restored six residential properties, while I worked at the campus bookstore during the week and sang at the church on Sundays. Vance never missed a Sunday.

He nudged me, and gestured to an elderly couple walking by hand-in-hand.

“That’ll be us one day, Rosie.”

I smirked. “An old Vietnamese couple? I can’t wait.”

He pinched my butt for that comment.
So worth it.

It wasn’t always easy, especially in the beginning. Many obstacles awaited us after the initial hurdle of defining our relationship. Rebuilding trust. Communication. Not to mention working through my triggers, such as beaches, banks, and especially Valentine’s Day. The second anniversary I held up better than the first, and every year after that it got a little easier.

I continued to journal and met with my counselor regularly up until graduation. She said healing is like a river—neutral isn’t the goal, you have to keep moving or else you’ll get swept away.

Not to say that I didn’t have setbacks, but whenever possible, I tried to confide in Vance instead of pushing him away. I’d already spent too much time in self-inflicted seclusion. I never wanted to take him for granted again.

We came back to California every Christmas to see our families, including last year when Cole and Kiki tied the knot. Kiki made a beautiful bride, and Cole looked like the happiest man in the world.

Of course, it was a bit awkward with the maid of honor openly glaring at the best man.

That was another obstacle, as forgiveness went beyond just the two of us. Though I’d dragged Vance through a lot of drama, he wasn’t the only one who suffered.

Once they saw our relationship come to fruition, and that Vance was happy, Cole and Kiki warmed up to us again. That was important to me. Vance’s friends were my friends, and trust was a valuable thing. I promised myself to never give them another reason to doubt. By the time Vance was planning to propose, he had their full support.

But no matter what we tried (and helplessness was not something I easily accepted), the sandy-haired girl that spent her whole life wishing for the one thing I had, wanted nothing to do with us.

Vance tried to dissuade me from feeling guilty. At first I wondered, how could I not? Because of me, someone was hurting. Because of me, their lifelong friendship was strained. I had deceived a friend with lies and secrets, and every effort I made to spare her feelings along the way only made it a deeper betrayal.

But Vance said sometimes in life, the only choice we have is how to react. He chose to pursue me. I (finally) chose to let him catch me. Summer chose to disown us for falling in love. I didn’t think she’d ever forgive me for marrying Vance. But I love him. It’s good and it’s real. And I won’t let anything in this world come between us again. That is my choice.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he said. “My mom finished a sample invitation… want to see?”

“Uh, yeah!” I held out my hands, smiling widely. “Gimmie gimmie gimmie!”

He held it up just out of reach and gave me
the eye.
“There’s a price.”

Oh my. Vance and his games.

I jumped out of my swing but he dodged me. I chased him down for a good ten seconds before I finally caught up, and tackled him into the grass. He laughed as I smothered him in noisy kisses until he finally gave up the goods.

There it was in black and white—our names, our date, written in a lovely script. Wrapped in a jacket and tied with ribbon, hand-painted the image of three rosebuds.

Our marriage announcement…

Beautiful.

“I love your mom,” I said, teary.

He kissed my cheek. “She loves you, too.”

Both our families were elated to find out about our official relationship. Our first Christmas home, I was swarmed with embarrassing baby brother stories that even made the shameless Vance Holloway blush. I figured I got the stamp of approval when I was dubbed a “major upgrade.” And his gramps became my new favorite person in the world. Vance, on the other hand, was ever the gentlemen, charming the pants of my stiff parents with his lovably quirky but always respectful self.

When we announced our engagement last fall, my mama cried happy tears and wished us every happiness in our marriage that she had experienced in theirs. Yeah… I just bit my tongue and thanked her. It came from a good place.

Our relationship had changed a lot in the recent years. We’ve both made more of an effort to be open with each other, even if sometimes it involved getting a little ugly.

To my surprise, we even received a letter of congratulations from my brother, James, postmarked Okanawa, Japan. I was more than a little shocked to read the heartfelt words he had handwritten. The letter detailed how he was proud of me, and that Vance was a lucky guy and better treat his sister right. I flipped the page back and forth, scrutinizing the handwriting dozens of times. Still floored that the guy who grew up hating my guts had somehow been replaced by a real brother.

I wrote him back right away, and when Vance found out, he preceded to write James a letter, too, and we sent them together.

He amazed me time and time again.

My love for Vance grew every day, because every day he gave me a deeper understanding of what it meant to love. I’d become a firm believer in that love feels strongest when you’re giving it. Sometimes I tried to outdo him—not in a competitive way. I figured if we’re both trying to love each other harder than the other, nobody really loses.

Laying in the grass between the swing set and the old oak tree, I suddenly realized we were in the exact spot where we shared our very first kiss. Caught up in the memory and my all-encompassing adoration for him, I leaned in and kissed his perfect lips, slow and sweet. Warmth thrummed between us. As he kissed me back, his hand tenderly brushed aside my hair.

“I never even knew it was possible to be
this
in love with somebody,” I whispered. “Or even what it meant.”

Soft, olive green eyes looked directly into mine. “We’ll never stop falling more in love, Rosie. That’s my vow to you, the day I get to call you my wife.”

Good gracious,
I couldn’t wait. Four months to go; four months too long!

Originally I suggested a quick elopement, but Vance was adamantly against the idea. He pointed out that our relationship began in secret, and he wouldn’t feel right starting our marriage that way. (He might’ve also been a little turned off by the thought of following the same elopement plan I had with Miles.)

Thus, we were having a real ceremony in an adorable chapel in the mountains, and the reception at a nearby lodge. At first I didn’t think I needed a huge party and a ton of attention. But Vance was right, we were lucky enough to be surrounded by people that loved us, and the event was worthy of celebrating together.

Meanwhile, there was still one boundary we had yet to cross.

So far, we’d honored our decision to wait until after the wedding to…ahem… consummate our relationship. Some days (or nights, rather) were harder than others. Surprisingly, the wait often seemed more difficult for me than it did for him. We tested and pushed our boundaries, having plenty of fun practicing for the main event. But somehow
(Vance)
we had successfully evaded home plate.

For the next four months, he and his new puppy, Orion, would be living alone in the cabin, where I was no longer allowed. He said it’s to avoid temptation, but I suspected he’s renovating again. He swore that we’d have the perfect wedding night, and it’d be worth the wait, and everything I ever wanted. And I didn’t doubt that for one second.

This man has proved to me time and again the lengths he will go for me, and I trust him with my life—even if it can be pretty frustrating to hear him say ‘no’ in the heat of the moment. Nevertheless, there’d never been a moment he left me uncertain of his love, his respect, or his desire for me. Not one solitary moment.

We’ll see… This marriage just might get consummated in the car between the chapel and the lodge.

As for after the wedding?

Following a few days secluded in his cabin, the tentative plan was Oregon—a little closer to home, but with actual seasons, known for its beautiful mountains and great fishing. He had his eye on a few houses on the market, ones with big yards for Orion to run around and play. I was happy to find whatever work came along, so long as I had time to keep up with my personal journey blog,
Forgiven.
Over the last few years, it had gained quite the following.

I loved that we got to finish school in Texas, and I’d miss our church and the band and my book club friends, but we didn’t feel the pull to settle there. I always assumed we’d move back to California after graduation, but after he got out of his comfort zone, my man caught the travel bug. Vance had followed me as I chased my dreams, and I’d do the same for him. I’d follow him anywhere.

“You hear from Anthony and Claire?”

“She emailed me,” I said, lying next to him in the grass. “They made it to Africa okay. Their team will be training for another two days, then they leave for the first village.”

Over these last few years, the four of us had become really close. Claire and I lived together up until they got married. Vance had helped to paint their new place, where they only lived for a grand total of one year—they both joined the peace corps after Claire finished school this last month. It was easy to see they were destined for greatness.

“Think we could ever do that?” he asked, facing me and squinting against the sun. “Move across the world? Give it all up?”

“First of all, I wouldn’t be giving anything up, if you were there with me,” I smiled at him. He grinned back. He loved it when I unleashed my cheesiness on him. “And second,” I said more seriously, “I would support you in anything you felt led to do. I’ve learned to trust that heart of yours by now.”

I watched as he closed his eyes and tilted his face up towards the sun, soaking in its warmth. “Who knows, Rosie? We’ve got our whole lives ahead.”

When I laced our fingers together, the three small, inked stars on my inner wrist aligned with the bow and arrow on his. “We’re going to be something amazing,” I whispered.

Reuniting the old clique for Phoenix’s funeral only lasted one night. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of him, every time I see a surfer or hear a drum solo. Every time I face the choice to either run from life or embrace it.