Operation Mail-Order Bride (10 page)

Saturday night was a repeat of Friday. Though I was glad business was so brisk—I was making good tips—I was impatient to spend some time talking quietly with David without interruption. To my relief, when he finished his share of the work, he didn’t leave. He changed into fresh clothes in the men’s room, bought a newspaper from the vending machine outside, and took a stool at the counter.

“I’m taking you out for breakfast as soon as you clock out,” he announced as I poured him his coffee. “We need to talk, and we can’t do it here.”

Later, sitting in a booth at a diner, he launched his proposition.

“I want you to come to Houston with me,” he began. “I know we haven’t gotten around to talking about the future, but it’s time to do it now. This is a big step for me, Cassie, and I want you with me in Houston. I’ll be making enough to support both of us. You could start school in the fall! We’ll be able to travel—a lot, at first.” He stopped, looking at me with shining eyes, reached across the table and took my hands. “You can probably tell I’m really excited about this, but I want you to know, it won’t mean much if you won’t be there to share it with me.”

I let him hold my hands in his and stared at him with dismay. It was happening again, twice in one year! Was I that big a pushover? Or did I just look like one? David was on his way up in the world. He would be fine no matter what happened between us. But here I was, in the same sorry position I was in when I talked myself into falling in love with Blair. The man I thought I loved was asking me to give up everything I had—a home, a job, good friends—and follow him to a new place.

I began to withdraw my hands, feeling the rebellious urge inside me grow, until I knew that heeding it was the right thing to do.

“No,” I said. I put my hands in my lap and looked at David calmly.

“We can … what?” He was stunned.

“No. I will not go to Houston. Not like this.”

I watched his face mirror the emotions that chased each other through his mind: disbelief, worry, a little fear, then a touch of sadness and finally, enlightenment.

“Oh, you don’t want to live together until we’re married. I understand that, Cassie. We’ll find you your own place. That won’t be a problem.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Will you explain it to me?” He folded his hands behind his plate of untouched food and waited.

“I have to stand on my own,” I told him, “I can’t just run off. I can’t leave a perfectly good job without giving them time to replace me. I can’t move out of my place without giving my landlord a chance to find someone else who can move in.”

“You want to keep your good reputation,” he chuckled.

“It’s more than that.” I was trying hard not to give in to the rising tide of panic within me. If I could keep talking; keep giving David good reasons for not going along with his plan, he wouldn’t have an opportunity to talk me into doing something I knew was a bad idea. “I believe that when you screw people over, it follows you. Sooner or later, the same things will be done to you. Maybe someday I’ll own a business. If I don’t give
Sue notice and just don’t show up at the shop now, some employee will do that to me—someday.”

David held his coffee mug in both hands. He was puffing air on the hot liquid and watching the steam respond.

“You don’t trust me,” he stated.

“I don’t know … maybe …. I don’t know, David. I’m sorry.”

He sighed. “I can’t blame you, Cassie. I haven’t exactly been straightforward about how I feel about you. I just felt it was a little early, that’s all.”

“And you want me to move to Houston
with you so you can find out for sure.”

“That pretty much sums it up.” He stopped watching his coffee and met my eyes. I could not believe that the inner struggle I was feeling was not visible to him. I could not believe that this was happening again.
Oh, why?
I wailed inwardly.
Why now, when life was beginning to be good again? Why couldn’t it have gone on as it was just a little while longer, until I was more sure of him? Why did this have to happen now?

“I can’t do it, David,” I choked out. “I’m sorry.”

Blinking back hot tears, I grabbed my purse and ran from the diner, hoping I could control myself long enough so I could safely drive home. As I reached the car and fumbled with the door, I could hear a commotion back at the diner’s entry: David bolted from the table in pursuit of me, and the manager was demanding payment for our orders, blocking David’s path outside. Thankful that I had an unwitting ally in my desire to avoid David and be alone for awhile, I started the engine before I closed the door, gunned it, and got away.

I cursed myself silently as I drove aimlessly about town, still and silent on the early Sunday morning. What was wrong with me? Why hadn’t I taken the initiative and told David how I felt about him? It was obvious that he liked me. Perhaps he even loved me. Why did the prospect of risking my hard-won stability lead me to reject the whole idea of going off on this adventure with him? The answer was obvious: I was leery of making the same mistake twice. I was afraid.

The next few days were copies of the previous week. As a consequence, I did not see David again before he left town.

Knowing he would never be there again when I arrived, I went to the doughnut shop heavy-hearted that Friday. I did my best to assist Akmed in getting the massive production done before the customers began arriving early Saturday morning, but I kept catching myself wondering what the point of it all was. By the time I clocked out, exhausted, I had to admit the truth: the thing that had made the job rewarding and interesting was David’s presence. With him gone it was just a job, and a crummy job at that.

My mood went nowhere over the next few days. I did my job listlessly, slept more than usual, and skipped midweek church service. My loneliness seemed to have reached a new intensity, for no one came to visit, either at my cottage or at the shop, and my phone stayed silent.

I was sitting on the steps with a mug of coffee on my next evening off, watching the twilight deepen and wondering what I could do with myself. A stray cat skirted the yard, keeping to the shadows. I wriggled my bare toes and thought about the building heat—each day seemed to be a little warmer than the one before. I thought about Houston, hundreds of miles south of where I was sitting, already poaching on the Gulf coast
, and came to a decision.

Air conditioning will cost the same whether you’re here or there. You have never been this miserable, Cassie, and you have never missed anyone so much in your life. You know you have to get a better job. You haven’t found one here in months of looking. You might as well start looking in Houston.

I drove to the good newsstand downtown, but it was already closed. I knew that the mega-bookstore in the next town would have what I needed. Sure enough, in the periodicals section, I found a Houston newspaper. I bought myself a mug of overpriced coffee and opened the paper to the “help wanted” section. In five minutes, I found two job possibilities. I purchased the paper and drove home. My evening entertainment was settled: composing and typing a
résumé
and cover letter for each job opening. As I banged away on my ancient portable typewriter, I felt my mood lightening. For the first time since that final cup of coffee in the diner with David, I felt hopeful. It might take weeks or even months to get a response from the queries I would send, but at least I was doing something other than moping.

After I mailed the first two letters, I developed a job-hunting routine. Three mornings a week, I visited the library and scoured the Houston papers for job openings in my field. I responded to any I found. After two weeks, no replies had come, but my elation was growing: it was only a matter of time before some art director or print shop manager read my letter and
résumé
and knew that I would be a good “fit.” If he made the effort to check my references he would know that I was a good prospect before he even met me! The fact that I was applying from far out of town was a handicap, but a good worker with my proven skills could always find a good job eventually.

I was working at one of the library’s computers late one morning when Debra Stone found me.

“Aren’t you up late, Cassie?” She peered concernedly at my face.

I felt a stab of guilt. I had been concentrating so fiercely on getting my
résumés
out that I had neglected my friends lately: failing to hang around after church; not bothering to call….

“A little late. How have you been, Debra?” I indicated the empty chair at the unused computer next to mine as a way of inviting her to sit and chat. She sat.

“I’m okay. More importantly, how are you?”

“Better.” I glanced at the computer screen. “A few days after David left, I realized that I missed him so much I’d be a fool not to try to fix the situation somehow. I’ve been checking the Houston papers for jobs and sending out
résumés
.”

A smile began to spread across her worried face. “That’s great, Cassie! Larry and I were a little … well, you seemed so down.”

“I was. Thanks for noticing.”

“I kept wishing there was something we could do to help, but I knew it was between you and David, and if it was meant to be, one or the other of you would find a way to straighten it out.”

I nodded. “This is all I’m doing at the moment, but I think it’s a good start.”

“I agree.” She frowned. “Cassie, did you ever tell David about Blair?”

“Oh, sure. Blair stopped by the shop one night to yell at me about sabotaging his relationship with—Amelia? Is that her name? Anyway, David was there. He overheard, so I told him Blair was a former boyfriend who dumped me.”

“That’s not what I meant. Did you ever tell him about your friends getting the two of you together: the letter-writing, the long-distance phone calls, the photographs, your friends’ wedding—the whole story?”

“No, I didn’t. I learned a long time ago that boyfriends really hate it when you talk to them about your past conquests.”

“Well, I just wondered.” She gathered her purse and tote. “Larry and I are going to the fireworks show in the park on the Fourth. Do you want to come with us?”

“I’d like that. Yes, and thanks for asking me. Can I bring anything?”

“Just a lawn chair if you have one. We usually have to park a long way from where we watch, so we try not to take much.”

“I do have a lawn chair. Call me the day before?”

She agreed, and left. I turned back to the letter on the screen, finished it, then scrolled back to the beginning and proofread it. As I printed it out, I thought with growing excitement:
this is going to work. I am going to get a good job in Houston, where I can be close to David. If we do love each other and decide to get married, it will just make things simpler if I’m already there. If we decide we don’t have a future, I will still be on solid ground, financially. It’s a big city. If we break up and we both stay there, we could go the rest of our lives without running into each other. Yes, this is a good idea.

The heat began to intensify as the Fourth of July neared. As I waited on the steps for Larry and Debra to collect me and my folding chair, I felt grateful that fireworks displays could only be performed after dark, for this was not weather for sitting out in the sun. Afternoon temperatures were already over 100 degrees.

They arrived, and Larry added my chair to the others in the trunk.

“That’s a good idea,” he gestured toward the water bottle I carried on a shoulder strap. As we climbed into the car and started moving, he caught my eyes in the rearview mirror. “Any nibbles from the job applications you’ve been sending to Houston?”

“No, but the last job I inquired about sounded the best yet.”

“I admire your positive attitude, Cassie,” Debra said, half-turning against her shoulder belt so we could talk.

“The attitude is easy when you’re not desperate,” I told her. “After all, I have a steady job right now. I’m after a better one in another place, that’s all. Besides, the work of applying keeps me from dwelling on how much I miss David.”

The Stones glanced at each other. “You’re doing
the right thing,” Larry said. “and going about it the right way. I hope you get exactly what you want, Cassie, but I hope we don’t have to tell you how much we’ll miss you when you go.”

I was touched. “Thank you, Larry. I’m going to miss the two of you a lot. You’re good friends.”

The city-sponsored fireworks display was well-attended. After twilight faded, plumes of red, white, then blue sparks shot high into the air over the park to signal the beginning of the show. Thirty minutes of nonstop explosions of light followed, accompanied by country-and-western music played over the park’s public-address system, and punctuated by delighted “oohs” and “aahs” from the crowd. Larry, Debra and I didn’t talk much. We let the colors and lights take us back to the holidays of our childhood, when being allowed to stay up so long after dark to attend one of these displays was just as exciting as the show itself.

“Do you two have any plans for the rest of the weekend?” I asked as we trudged back to their car along one of the park’s walking trails.

“Nothing much,” Debra replied. “We’re planning to goof off.”