Unlocked: A Love Story

  Cody didn’t move. He waited while she walked toward him, her steps measured, like she was in a trance. Her eyes locked on his and she never looked away, never even blinked.

  A hundred emotions and thoughts whirled in Cody’s mind. How beautiful she looked and how different from the last time they’d been together. There was a strength to her now, strength mixed with confidence. As if she were exactly where she needed to be. A sense of purpose and resolve shone in her eyes.

  Never had Cody been more drawn to her.

  When Andi reached him, she took him by the hand to a spot behind a grove of trees. So they’d be completely alone. “Cody . . .” Her tone was compassionate, but clearly she was confused. “Why are you here?”

  He had so many things he wanted to tell her. How he was sorry for letting her walk away and how he should have told her about the PTSD, how all he’d done since then was think about her and miss her and want her back.

  But none of that came out.

  Instead—with the greatest care—he took her into his arms and kissed her. Not a kiss of sudden passion or self-gratification. But a kiss that he hoped might tell her more than an hour of words ever could.

  She drew back first, breathless, her eyes a mix of sorrow and shock. “What in the world . . .” Her hand moved across her lips.

  Cody took a step back. Instant regret. “I’m . . . I’m sorry, I just . . . I couldn’t reach you and you wouldn’t take my calls or text me back. I saw you on the news and . . .” A soft rain started falling around them. “I missed you, Andi.”

  Her eyes welled up and for a while she stood there, watching him, like she was fighting herself for even staying around this long. Then as if she had no way to stop herself, she slumped a little. And finally she came to him and melted into his arms. For a few seconds she looked like she might kiss him. Instead, she kept her arms around his neck and rested her head on his chest. “I missed you, too.”

  The feeling of her in his arms was all that mattered. He could’ve left now and the whole trip would’ve been worth it. But he had so much more to say. He drew back and studied her face, her eyes. “I have to talk to you, Andi. What happened between us before, it was my fault. But there are things you don’t know.” He wiped the rain from his face and eyelashes. “Could we go somewhere, please? So we can talk?”

  “Everything is fine?” A guy’s voice came from a few feet away.

  Cody and Andi turned toward the sound. It was the dark-haired guy from a few minutes ago. Before Cody could say anything, Andi jerked away from him and crossed her arms in front of herself. She seemed guilty, like whatever was going on she didn’t want the guy seeing her with Cody. “It’s okay. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She looked at Cody and back at the guy. “This is Cody. My friend.” She glanced at Cody. “This is Caleb.”

  Caleb nodded, his expression stone-like. “Pleasure.” The guy had an accent. Something European, maybe.

  “Same.” Cody shoved his hands in his pockets. He felt the gift he’d brought Andi.

  The guy must not have been completely satisfied that Andi was okay, because he hesitated. Then after a few seconds, he turned and walked back toward the building. When he was gone, Cody looked at Andi once more. “Co-worker?” He didn’t have to ask whether the guy was more than that to Andi. Her tone said it all.

  She took several heartbeats before she answered. “Yes. Caleb and I . . . We’re . . . we’re friends.” She didn’t blink. “At least for now.”

  The rain was still falling, still making this time with her feel like something from a dream. “Okay.” He hadn’t for a minute thought she might be involved with another guy. His mind was reeling. “I guess.”

  “Cody, I can’t do this . . . You can’t just . . .” She looked down at the muddy ground and shook her head.

  Cody couldn’t tell if she was crying. Drops were running off her cheeks and nose, but they could’ve been the rain. When she looked up he knew the answer. Some of the drops had been tears. He took a step closer. “I’m sorry, Andi. Please . . . can we talk? Go somewhere? Just the two of us?”

  Again her expression eased and she came closer. “Why do you always do this, Cody? Draw me in again?” She put her arms around his neck and looked into his eyes. “So that all I want is you.”

  They couldn’t stop themselves from coming together again if their lives depended on it. They held on to each other for several minutes, swaying to the sound of the rain and wind in the tree branches overhead. Cody loved this, but he wanted to talk. He couldn’t wait to tell her the truth about everything.

  Finally he leaned back some and framed her face with his fingertips. The sight of her took his breath. He searched her eyes. It was all he could do not to kiss her again. “Where can we go?”

  “We can’t.” She shook her head, but this time her eyes remained soft. “I have meetings tonight. And I’m taking care of a rescue puppy. He’s just six weeks old.” She nodded back toward the shed. “The puppy stays here during the day, but I take care of him after work.”

  Cody was about to ask if he could go to the place where she was staying, wherever that was. They could talk in the lobby . . . or in the parking lot.

  But she came up with a different plan, first. “Let’s meet tomorrow. At that park.” She pointed across the street at a small playground. “Seven in the morning.” Her soft voice and the look in her eyes said she wanted to stay, wanted to make this moment last as long as they could. But she was listening to a different voice. The one in her head.

  Cody’s heart raced. “Okay.” He hesitated. “I can do that.” At least she wasn’t refusing to talk to him at all. “What about dinner?”

  “I can’t.” She looked back toward the shed once more. “I have plans.” She released a tortured breath. “I have to think, Cody. Me and God. This . . . I wasn’t expecting you.”

  Cody felt the blow of her words to his core. This was a different Andi, for sure. One who had options. That much was clear. This Andi had spent enough time helping people that she had no trouble now helping herself. Keeping her heart out of harm’s way when it came to Cody. Clearly right now she knew better than to stay with him another minute.

  She gave him a sad smile and took three steps back. “I have to go. We need to clean every cage before we leave.”

  He nodded. “Tomorrow then.” There was nothing else he could say. He didn’t want to leave her side while he was here, but she said she needed time. He pulled the gift from his pocket and handed it to her. “Here.”

  She took it and new tears pooled in her eyes. “Thank you.”

  It was the least Cody could do, proof that he understood her passion for working here and helping people. Proof that he was paying attention to her now, the way he hadn’t paid attention when they were engaged last time. Cody hoped the gift would tell her all of that and more, since they wouldn’t see each other until tomorrow. The gift was just what she wanted, after all.

  A simple pair of clean white socks.

  16

  The memory of his beginning with Elizabeth wouldn’t leave him alone, just the way John had feared. He could only thank God that Elaine was understanding. She didn’t have to tell him how distant he’d been or how he’d barely engaged in their few conversations.

  Yesterday evening he’d found her out front in one of their two rocking chairs. She was reading the Bible, and as he approached she looked up and smiled. Actually smiled at him. “Hello, John.”

  “Elaine.” He took the chair beside her. “I’m interrupting.”

  “Never.” Her tone was soft, and he could sense her spirit was, too. “I was reading Hebrews. About faith.”

  John nodded. “One of my favorite passages.”

  She looked more intently at him. “What’s on your heart?”

  Elaine always said that. What’s on your heart? She didn’t want to know only the thoughts of someone she loved. She wanted to know what was going on at a deeper level. One of the reasons John cared about her so much.
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  “I’m sorry. I know . . . I’ve said it a few times these last weeks, but I really mean it. This whole interview thing . . . it’s taken me back, and it’s like . . .” He stared at the sky for a moment, then at her. “Like I’m living again in that faraway time and I can’t quite come home yet.”

  Compassion colored Elaine’s expression. “Can I tell you a 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 you do want 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 CROSSED the 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.

  John was a premed student, of course, so when Elizabeth told him her symptoms, he didn’t need a pregnancy test to know what was wrong. Elizabeth was expecting. They confirmed it with a blood test, which John performed clandestinely at the University of Michigan laboratory.

  “I’m not pregnant.” She had insisted as much from the moment he suggested it. “It’s probably allergies. Milk, maybe.”

  The day John read the test results was one he would never forget. He found Elizabeth outside her next class and brought her to a picnic table on a quiet part of campus. They held hands across the splintered wood. What he was about to say would change their lives forever.

  “Elizabeth, I’m sorry.” If only he could turn back the clock. If he could change things so he never would have taken her back to his house that first night. He closed his eyes for a brief moment and then looked straight at her. “You’re pregnant.”

  “No.” She was in shock. She had to be. No other way to explain how her eyes grew wide and her face a chalky sort of pale. Elizabeth stood, her body clearly trembling. “I’m not, John. I can’t be.” She looked over her right shoulder and then her left. As if she were terrified someone might have heard him. Including herself. Then her eyes found his again. “I can’t be. No.”

  “Elizabeth.” He stood and moved around the table. “We can do this. We’ll find a way.”

  But as he came closer, she moved a few steps back. She shook her head, tears flooding her eyes. “No, John. It won’t be okay. This will never be okay.”

  A rough few days followed. Elizabeth refused to see him or talk to him. He’d wait for her near her classroom, but she’d turn the other direction on her way out. Then on the fourth day, he was sitting at a table on the lawn of the medical building when she came up behind him.

  She sat down and turned to him. “I’m sorry.” Again she seemed to be shaking.

  They were in deep trouble, but the joy he felt that day was something he would carry with him forever. She had
come back to him. His heart beat hard against his chest. “Why in the world are you sorry?”

  Elizabeth could’ve answered a dozen ways but she didn’t. Instead she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on to him. Only then did her tears come in earnest. She began to cry and that led to a series of sobs.

  The autumn sun shone down on their shoulders, and a breeze played in the red and yellow leaves nearby. Finally Elizabeth gained enough control to speak. “I couldn’t believe it was true.” She shook her head. “I felt like my world was falling apart.”

  Her face was gripped with fear. He slid his fingers between hers. And in that moment he was home. No matter what came next, they would be together. “Elizabeth. I thought I’d lost you.”

  “No.”

  “And I’m the one who’s sorry.” He ran his thumb lightly along her cheekbone. “You’re just a freshman. I should’ve never taken you home, Elizabeth.”

  Her cheeks grew red, but she didn’t look away. “I wanted to be with you. We’re both to blame.”

  She was right, but John was the guy and he was older. He couldn’t let her feel this was her fault. “It’s me, Elizabeth. I knew better.” He could hear the other med students heading into the building. The break was over, but John wasn’t leaving. He blinked a few times. “Where do we go from here?”

  “I need to tell my parents.”

  “No.” This time he was sure what they had to do next. He would never let her face them alone. “We need to tell them.”

  Which is exactly what they did. That night Elizabeth was home working on an essay for English 101 when John knocked on the door. Her father answered it. From where John stood he could see Elizabeth at the kitchen table, her books spread out. She turned toward him just as her father’s face twisted into a scowl.

  “Can I help you?” His brow lowered down around the bridge of his nose.

  For a second, John met Elizabeth’s eyes. She looked more certain than scared. She stood and took slow, silent steps in his direction. John looked at the man and cleared his throat. “Yes, sir. My name’s John Baxter.” He dug his hands deep into his jeans. “I’d like to talk to you and your wife. About your daughter, Elizabeth.”