“Then I wish you well” was the instant response. She wasn’t sure what she had expected. An argument? An insult?
“You were the best husband a woman could ever ask for, George. Kind and loving, warm and generous, brilliant and thoughtful. I will never, ever forget you. Not for a day, not for a moment.” It was true. Eleven years had passed since she had lost George and, for Edith, he was still the one who made her heart happiest.
“I loved you wholeheartedly, Edi. But I see that the time has come for us to part ways. I wish you well and send you all the love and luck in my heart.” There was a long pause. And then came the end. “Goodbye, dearest wife.”
Just like that, the silence was so thick, so deafening, that Edith wondered if she’d lost her hearing. Only the sound of her puff on the cigarette in her hand let her know that her senses were still intact.She snubbed the cigarette forcefully into the ashtray. She knew that it was her last one. And good riddance.
Tears filled her eyes again as she realized that it was the only good riddance that night. A knowledge washed over her: This library had gone quiet. She had made her decision, drawn her line in the sand. And she was certain she would never hear the voice of George Vanderbilt, her great love, ever again.
JULIAUntil We Meet Again
There is something almost indescribable about the way time passes when you are completely engrossed in the person that you know you might be falling for. The hours on the clock don’t matter. A rumbling stomach is the only indicator of mealtime, and exhaustion so pure that you fall asleep in the other person’s arms is the only sign that it’s time to sleep. That was what happened to Conner and me. Waking up in his arms on his borrowed boat—the light streaming through the windows overlooking the glorious sea, making love before breakfast—beat the pants off waking up to a bumped head in the bunkhouse.
But I had to face reality. My flight to Asheville left the next morning. I had to go back to a world where I had no safety net.
“Tomorrow,” I said, my face buried in Conner’s chest.
“Tomorrow isn’t real,” he said. “Tomorrow is a construct of someone else’s time, and I think we should live in ours.” I lookedup to see if he was serious. He was not. He sighed. “I know. Tomorrow. Then Monday, it’s back to the real world. Back to schedules and meetings and client pitches.”
I felt a rush of excitement. “I’m suddenly jealous of all those things.”
He sat up. “You don’t need to be jealous. You’ll be doing all that soon.”
I rubbed my eyes. “I hope so.”
“Hey,” he said. “You should come to New York. Transfer to Cornell or Columbia or Pratt.”
I laughed. “Come on, Conner. I can’t do that.”
“Why not? You have to finish school somewhere. Why not New York?” He took my hands in his. “We can see what we’re like. Outside of paradise.”
God, it sounded magical. But I couldn’t do that. “Conner, I don’t have some huge nest egg to fall back on. I’ll be taking out student loans and teaching yoga to support myself if I go back to school. I can’t afford a place in New York.” My face fell. “Reality is super unsexy.” I sat up cross-legged across from Conner. “Plus, don’t you see?”
He shook his head.
I sighed. “If I do that—move to New York—I’m just relying on you to save me like I did Hayes. I have to see if I can make it on my own. I just broke up with my boyfriend of ten years. I don’t even know who I am without him.”
He nodded. “And you can’t run straight into another relationship or you won’t know who you are without me.”
“Is that okay?”
He laughed. “Jules, that’s more than okay. I knew it was a long shot.” He shrugged. “But a guy’s gotta ask.”
It was so supportive; it made me wonder if I would ever find anyone else that good.
He pulled me to him. “So maybe someday?”
I nodded. This conversation was the exact opposite of the last decade of my life with Hayes. Instead of guilting or manipulating, Conner understood I had to choose what was best for me. And what’s more, he respected that.
“One day,” he said, his eyes bright with laughter, “we’ll be walking down the street, and our paths will cross again.”
“My heart will race because it’s you—and I’ll be ready for this then,” I said back, putting my hand over my heart dramatically, continuing the game of writing our fairy tale.
He pulled away from me. “I won’t be able to take my eyes off you, not just because you’re so beautiful but because you’ll be so in your element. You’ll be so alive, living your purpose. And I’ll know that we were right to wait, that you couldn’t be with me until you really knew yourself.”
“Our eyes will lock,” I continued. “And I’ll wink.”
“And, without a word between us, that’s how I’ll know you’re ready.”
