Forgetting Elizabeth

By Alyson L

Posted on Monday, 1 November 2004

"There's nothing you could have said that would have tempted me to accept! You are arrogant and conceited, and you criticize everything and censure everyone around you. I disliked you the first time we met, and everything that has happened since then has only made my opinion worse. You're the last man on earth I'd want to go on a date with, and anything more serious is absurd!"

I was astonished. I was mortified. I had never before in my life experienced such feelings as I had for Elizabeth, and it had taken me weeks to build up my courage to confess them to her. I didn't use the L word, but it was everywhere present in my declaration--respect, admiration, esteem. Ardency, allegiance, attachment. Fascination, attraction, magnetism. Humor, intelligence, sense. Blessing, fortune, fate. Value, cherish, need.

"I understand, Elizabeth--you've made yourself perfectly clear. I'm ashamed of what I've allowed my feelings to become, and I'm sorry we've spent so long discussing it." I turned to leave, but with my hand still upon the doorknob I said, "I wish you all the best, in everything you do." I hardly remember any of the drive home, and wondered how I'd gotten from point A to point B as I found myself hurtling up the driveway far too fast. I slammed the brakes, leaving two long black skid marks on the concrete. Hours later, with very little awareness of the time that had passed, I found myself pacing back and forth in front of my computer running her hurtful accusations and wounding words repeatedly through my head.

How did I lead myself so astray concerning Elizabeth? I actually assumed she was attracted to me, as well--that she liked me. That she was growing to love me. And all this time she believed what Wickham told her, and she even thought I condoned and supported Caroline Bingley's treatment of Jane.

Confusion and pain gradually gave way to anger. I won't allow her the satisfaction of making me the bad guy, I thought wrathfully. Elizabeth Bennet will come to know the person I really am. She will fully comprehend what she has refused. And she will regret it.

For two hours I wrote everything I was thinking and feeling. At the end I had 11 single-spaced pages that were half resentment, half self-pity. I deleted everything that contained emotion and retained only the facts, editing where I'd divulged too much and embellishing where the information was too scanty. Then I proofread and edited again, rephrasing and rearranging topics and paragraphs. As daybreak approached and the eastern sky bled a pale, washed grey, I once more scanned the long e-mail, which revealed my prior relationship with George Wickham and his motivation for slandering me, as well as my actions regarding about Jane and Bingley.

And that is as perfectly clear as her rejection was, and as absolutely unequivocal. I clicked send, and I put Elizabeth Bennet behind me. I will not spend a single moment grieving over her. She is not worth my time or my emotion. This is the end.

The following day at work I passed the new Assistant Director of Marketing several times. I had noticed her within a few days of her hiring--the long, straight blonde hair and the aerobics instructor body. Her arms were incredibly toned and lightly tanned. Her clothes were trendy and cut to fit her flatteringly, but not overtly revealing. Altogether she was nice to look at. I didn't allowed myself to make any comparisons, and I didn't argue with myself as I had previously about someone I might have found more attractive.

Late in the afternoon I passed her as she solitarily waited for the elevator. Impulsively I stood beside her and waited for the doors to open. "Hello," I ventured.

"Hi," she said with a professional, distancing smile.

I extended my hand. "I'm William Darcy."

Her smile was a little warmer this time. "Yes, I know. The CEO's picture is hanging in the lobby." She had a firm grip and a good shake.

The elevator doors opened.

"And you work in Marketing. Your name is...?"

"I'm Amanda Fischer."

"Ms. Fischer. How do you like Darcy Enterprises so far?"

"I haven't been here long, but I'm enjoying it very much."

"I'm glad to hear it." I smiled at her again, taking great care to give her a smile that was neither professional nor distancing, but keeping it far from suggestive and leering. "I'll let you get back to your work." I held my hand out to the waiting elevator.

"Thank you."

"It was nice to meet you."

"And you, Mr. Darcy."

For two weeks this near-flirtation continued as I sought chances to spend a few isolated moments with Amanda. When I asked her to accompany me to dinner Friday evening, she accepted happily, if a little cautiously.

From the moment I picked her up my head shrieked that this was the wrong woman, that I didn't want to sit at a table across from her, that I didn't care what her favorite foods were and that an evening together would be completely tedious. Even though I refused to dwell on which face I might rather see, which food preferences I might care about, it turned out my head was right. As I walked her to her door at the end of a long dinner I kept my hands firmly in my pockets to discourage any sort of physical contact--anything that might give her the idea I wanted to prolong the evening or that we might have another date on some future weekend. As I drove home I acknowledged I'd have to avoid Marketing for the next two months at least, and resolved to find my next potential girlfriend somewhere besides work.

I didn't let 24 hours waste in my pursuit. I had developed a preference for Japanese food from a specific restaurant, and made a habit of stopping there most days after work and many weekends for a small serving of one of my favorite dishes. The evening after my date with Amanda was no exception. I had, in my many dinners, also noticed the friendly and attractive hostess who was there often during the evening shift.

As I waited for my order of yasai tempura I asked, "So have you always lived in the area?"

"No. I'm attending the university." This surprised me--she was not old, but certainly looked more mature than the average university student. In response to my expression of incredulous query, she continued, "I'm a semester away from my MBA."

"And you work at a Japanese restaurant in your spare time. Naturally," I said with a smile.

"Well, graduate degrees are expensive." She grinned and tucked her hair behind her ears. "My father is a military man. We were stationed in Okinawa for a total of 8 years while I was growing up. I don't look it I know," she continued with a humble smile, "but I feel Japanese. I double majored in Computer Science and Japanese, and this is one way to keep track of that part of my life while I'm busy completing my education."

Personable, smart, independent, ambitious...excellent choice. "I'm William Darcy," I said, reaching out to grasp her hand. "And I love Japanese food...and this restaurant. You may be seeing a lot more of me."

"You're always welcome here Mr. Darcy," she replied.

"Please, call me William." I smiled invitingly and then stared pointedly at her nametag.

"And I'm Gwen."

"I'll see you Monday night, Gwen. And I'm going to order inarizushi."

She grinned her approval. "I love inarizushi."

I bit back the urge to invite her to split my order, and nodded as I carried my styrofoam container of tempura out the door.

Monday evening after a hectic day at work I drove slowly along the street, looking for an open spot close to the restaurant. I slammed on my brakes--thank heavens no one was behind me--when I saw Elizabeth's car parked near the door. I'm lucky I haven't seen her here so far. It is her favorite place to eat, I thought. I put off my craving for inarizushi one more evening.

When I entered the restaurant again, Gwen said, "You didn't want inarizushi last night after all?"

"Something unexpected kept me away," I answered truthfully, "but I'd love some tonight."

"I'll place an order," she said, smiling helpfully.

"And will you join me in eating it?"

She looked at me nervously and pushed her hair behind her shoulders. Glancing at her watch, she replied, "I suppose I could take my dinner break." So we sat together eating sushi and making small talk.

Another week and a half of nightly visits and several shared meals, and I was ready to promote her from flirtation to girlfriend. "Gwen, what are you doing Friday evening?"

"Working. Of course."

"How about after the restaurant closes? We could go see a late movie or something."

She accepted me, and I jumped in with both feet. I held her hand as we walked from the restaurant to my car; I whispered intimately into her ear while we stood in line for tickets, and put my arm around her during the movie. Before we left the theater I kissed her, rushing through my usual stages of familiarity in dating to convince myself I was moving on.

It was hard to make progress with a woman whose schedule only allowed us to be together for one hour between the end of her work shift and the time she needed to sleep, but I did my level best. I saw her every night, called her every morning, and ate so much Japanese food even I began to yearn for something different for dinner.

Over a plate of yakitori she mentioned a company that was courting her for employment after she finished her MBA.

"Are they local?"

She laughed. "If you consider Nagoya local."

"Nagoya?"

"Uh huh."

"Japan?"

"Of course! That's why I majored in Japanese and business! I'm finishing my Masters mid-December, and I'm moving just after Christmas!"

That night I had to face what I'd been avoiding for so long: she didn't mean enough to me to maintain a long-distance relationship. In fact she didn't mean enough to me to continue a short-term favorite-restaurant relationship. The next evening I made one of the most difficult explanations in my life, telling Gwen why I'd given so much of my time and energy to something that really didn't matter. I was searching for an external solution to an internal problem. She didn't cry, she didn't respond--she didn't even say goodbye as I let myself out her door.

And the next morning I was a free man again. Okay, can't troll for hotties at work. Do I have another favorite restaurant? Oh, there has to be some way for me to meet a great woman. I mentally made a list of the ways people meet their other halves. I tried to find a chat room where my future Mrs. Darcy awaited me, but observing a single partial conversation told me that was going to be fruitless. I checked the singles ads in the newspaper and saw only desperation in those poor women's descriptions. I was considering finally letting Caroline Bingley have her chance when my cousin Colin called, trying to needle me into a blind date.

"Sure."

"Huh?"

"Absolutely. Tell me when and where, and I'll meet this...what did you say her name was?"

"Gloria Trivedi."

"Well, there are lots of songs about Gloria. They can't all be wrong, can they?"

Gloria and I met at an exclusive restaurant in a trendily hip area of downtown. She was wearing a tight dark red dress and dark lipstick, her hair falling around her shoulders and down her back in loose, long ringlets. She looked foreign and exotic, the sort of girl I'm never drawn to though they may be attractive. "Ms. Trivedi? I'm William Darcy."

"Please, call me Gloria," she purred. I'd never heard a voice like hers. Banal conversation was rendered intimate and personal. Her dark eyes caught mine and held, promising me heaven knows what. "It is a pleasure to meet you, William. I've known your cousin for a long time, and I've been asking him to introduce us."

As we sat in our candlelit booth eating our expensive dinners, I felt a comforting sense of relief. This was no student, unfamiliar with my world, inexperienced in relationships, with too little time for me. This was no company-climbing employee. This was a real woman--mature, interested in me, a great conversationalist. This wasn't work and effort; this came to me naturally.

Gloria listened attentively to everything I said. She agreed with all my opinions and offered just the right inducements to continue talking. She was the perfect antidote for everything that plagued me.

When she suggested a quick turn on the dance floor before dessert, I readily agreed. I wrapped my arm around her waist, pulling her close to me, and clasped her hand to my chest. She rested her head on my shoulder, allowing me to bury my nose in her fragrant curls, feeling her warmth next to mine. She explored my arm and shoulder, then her fingers began to draw patterns on the skin of my neck, sometimes dipping below my collar, sometimes toying with my hair. I unclasped our hands, running my thumb over the soft skin of her cheek. She lifted her face, lips parted, eyes half closed, waiting for my kiss.

I had a moment of lucidity. What am I doing? I am purposely seeking out a rebound relationship. I am rushing headlong into anything to distract me from Elizabeth, knowing that I'm not over her.

Gloria's eyes beckoned me, called to me. She stretched up and her warm breath tickled my lips.

Elizabeth. Once I'd allowed my thoughts to drift to her, I had no more will to keep them away. I don't want to be over her. I just want...her.

And there it was: The Truth. Elizabeth had made me feel alive. Conversing with her stimulated my intellect. My love for her had awakened sensations of masculinity, tenderness, and protectiveness I'd never experienced. And I was trying to find all that again, and more. I wanted to be the center of someone's universe because Elizabeth had ejected me from hers; I wanted proof that my intelligence, feelings, and protection were of worth somewhere.

I straightened, moving away from Gloria's mouth and her empty promises. "It turns out I'm not very hungry for dessert, Gloria."

"Would you like to go find somewhere more entertaining? I'm sure there's some delightful way to prolong our evening..."

"I appreciate your offer," I said, seeing only the image of Elizabeth swimming before my eyes, "but I'm ready to call it a night." Gloria had played me like a fiddle, and I fell for it because I wanted so badly to be played. She was after only my money, perhaps my appearance. Against my own better judgment, despite the fact that I had avoided women like her my entire lifetime--even though I knew what she was, I had let my defenses down in order to have my ego stroked rather than battered. Is this how low I'll go to be important to some woman?

I won't put myself in that position again. I'll stay away from women until I'm over Elizabeth once and for all. I thought of her smile, of her laughter, of her soft hair and the way she smelled. And that might take a very long time.

"Ana, let's go up to the lake one last time this summer, what do you say?"

"Oh, Will! I'd love to! I'd go for the entire three weeks before school starts if you want!"

"You're on," I replied, and my sister's face lit up.

I prepared everything at the office so that I could work remotely through phones and internet connections, and Georgiana and I drove to our cedar cabin on Pember Lake at the very north most tip of the state. I took one suitcase filled with clothes and two suitcases filled with work.

I should have known better. The beach is not a place to work or to think. It is too warm, too bright, too soft and lazy for any sharp thoughts or mental discipline. I hear the rhythm of the water and feel the breeze as it rustles the leaves in the trees behind me, and my mind is forced into some instinctive, primeval pattern that I can't consciously find anywhere else. Nature drowns out all my schedules and routines, leaving me a ball of pliant, willing clay--ready to be sculpted into anything and everything. I feel, like the sand before me, that the waves have effortlessly washed away everything that has been scribbled and imposed upon me.

The morning after we arrived I dutifully set up my laptop under an umbrella at a table out on the balcony, arranging stacks of papers into piles topped with water-worn smooth grey rocks. Twenty minutes of organization later, I found myself staring out at the rippling waves, stretching my bare legs into the warm sunshine and wishing for sand on my toes. Before long I was sitting in a lounge chair beside Ana on the beach, talking about her friends and her fall semester schedule at the university, and listening to the waves lapping the shore and the sound of boats motoring past.

After lunch I thought if I moved my papers into the dining table I might concentrate better, but the sun spilled through the curtains and blinds and before long I was out on the balcony again, and then out on the sand. Ana persuaded me to take the boat out to explore a marina and gift shop further up the lake, and much later my work sat untended on the table as I slept peacefully with the sounds of lapping water coming through my open bedroom window.

The next day I was wiser. I packed up the work and left it in a corner, heeding the call of the water and the sun, waiting for a moment when I could hear the piles of papers over the quiet splashing of the waves.

"Would you like to go skiing, Ana? The water is still smooth."

"I'd love to!"

Ana and I passed the morning skiing and sunning, and after an impromptu boat-driving lesson she even pulled me for a slalom around the island. After lunch she went to a neighboring cabin to spend the afternoon with lake friends, and I sat on my lounge on the sand indulging, for once, in memories of Elizabeth. What was it about her that so caught my attention?

Her smile. And the way she refused to take my side in an argument. Her quick mind and informed opinions. Her beautiful, dark eyes that seemed to hold my future.

I shook my head. No. I can't do this. I need to forget her. I'll never see her again, and she hates me. There is no use dwelling on what can never be. I spent a solitary afternoon holding an unread novel in my hands, staring at the water, emptying my head of all fancies and dreams, letting the lake wash away anything that wasn't real and tactile and useful.

After dinner, while Ana curled up on the sofa with an oft-watched favorite DVD on the television, I finally hooked up my laptop and checked e-mail. In the middle of the communications from my work associates was a message from Bingley.

Darcy--

What's going on? I'm sorry I haven't been in contact. After Jane broke up with me I sort of withdrew from the world, I suppose, cutting off communication with anything that reminded me of her. (Despite our years of friendship, that included you.) I have slowly regained my productivity, and if you only saw the slice of my life that is work I think you'd say I have it all together.

But really I'm miserable. I constantly think about Jane, and I miss her. I believe, if not for Caroline's and Louisa's very vocal disapproval, if not for their pointed efforts in making her uncomfortable and unwelcome, we could have had something great. Something amazing. Something forever.

I wish I had a second chance, but some things can't be repaired, you know? Some situations are too negative for the positives to come out on top.

I didn't mean to go on like that. I meant to ask about you, about Ana, about work. I've held this in for so long, though, that it came out in the one place where I knew I'd find acceptance. Thanks as always for your friendship.

Let me know how you are,

Charles

The lake had stripped me of needless tact, of the desire to cajole or cushion. I replied from my heart:

Bingley,

Jane loved you. She probably loves you still. If you want a second chance you need to go to her and ask her for it, and you need to protect her from your sisters. The potential rewards are far greater than any reservations you might have.

Ana and I are fine, and we wish you all the happiness in the world.

WD

On day three Ana and I packed a lunch and took our bikes on a wilderness trail to a pristine, undeveloped portion of the lake, where there were no cabins and no beaches made of trucked-in sand. The brown, fertile dirt and lush green growth stretched to the water's edge and we constantly heard squirrel chatter and birdsong. Day four she again spent with friends, and I finally had the attention span to read through several memos and one proposal with the sun on my shoulders. Clouds began to build up the afternoon of day five, and while Ana and I were inside the restaurant at the resort near our cabin the rain began to fall. It rained for three days and was cloudy a fourth, but by the morning of day ten the skies were blue again--and after a few days of DVDs and work, Ana and I were ready to play on the lake. We grilled steaks and ate on the patio, sunburned and contented.

Day eleven brought a new e-mail to my inbox:

I've contacted Jane. She says she'll see me. Say a quick prayer that true love will conquer bad beginnings, and that an unfortunate ending can become merely an unfortunate middle, with a happy ending.

I closed my eyes and offered a heartfelt prayer right there, seated in front of my computer. I prayed for Bingley, and after I was done with him I lingered over a nameless, faceless prayer for myself.

Conclusion

Posted on Thursday, 4 November 2004

Day twelve was windy with high clouds, and neighbors invited Ana to spend the day with them on a sailboat. Belatedly I was included in the invitation, but I longed to walk the shores and trails, to see if I could get lost in the cool green sunlight filtered through leaves and pines, so I declined. I spent the morning hiking and exploring, always within a stone's throw of my little stretch of lake. I was tethered to the cabin by a feeling deep within me, a yearning and a wish that I didn't even have the power to voice.

I returned to the cabin mid-day and ate a spinach, avocado, and tomato sandwich, feeling the sun and the wind on my face. And then--without plan, without forethought--my feet led me back down to the beach, to dig into the sun-warmed sand. I spent a wordless, thoughtless hour staring at the water, amazed to find that I still had stress to release. I felt a kinship with everything animal as the birds flew overhead, sailing beneath the massive clouds and above the schooling fish.

The resort located a little more than a half-mile down the beach to the southwest had rental cabins, a small (and expensive) hotel, a nice restaurant, a marina, and boat and watercraft rentals. Though the beach area in front of each cabin is privately owned, the strand of imported sand stretches for just under a mile from the resort past our cabin and beyond. Very rarely a resort patron walks some length of the beach, and usually they are so friendly and respectful that individual cabin owners don't mind their short amble across each private property.

I had been watching one such person make a journey from the direction of the marina for the past fifteen minutes, ambling slowly through the sand and pausing to look at the picturesque lake on one side or the wooded mountains on the other. Where my mind had refused to make comparisons before, it now felt very unfettered: the walker was obviously female, and roughly Elizabeth's height and build. As soon as she was near enough I could see that her hair was too light in color and too short, but it was curly like Elizabeth's.

She continued her leisurely progress, taking another five minutes before she came close enough that I thought her face even reminded me of Elizabeth's. And then, lest she think I was watching her, I trained my eyes back on the glistening water. I expected her to pass in front of me, but she didn't. I couldn't even see her edge into the periphery of my vision.

I was disappointed, part of me wishing to call out a greeting and wish the walker well, part of me wanting to find all the features that were unlike Elizabeth's. I turned my head to see if she had begun her return journey, and saw her standing a dozen yards away, staring at me intently.

"William?"

My lungs felt empty, like I couldn't breathe. "Elizabeth?"

She took a small, hesitant step toward me. "So this is the cabin on Pember Lake, huh?" She gestured with her hand.

"What? Oh, yes." I was so startled by the physical apparition that paying attention to conversation was almost beyond me.

"I can see why you love it here. Caroline Bingley didn't exaggerate when she gushed about it." The last she said with a tentative but saucy smile.

I had risen as she spoke and I approached her, making a very conscious effort, in the midst of my confusion, to welcome her to my beach and my home. I hope I can make her comfortable enough to stay and talk. "It's good to see you. How have you been?"

She shrugged and tilted her head to the side, and her shorter curls bounced and swirled around her cheeks. "Okay, I guess. How about you?"

"Fine," I said hastily, in such a rush to ask her another question that tossed out the automatic answer. "How is your family?"

"They're all well."

"Are you staying over at the resort?"

"No," she answered, looking over her shoulder in the direction she'd come, "my friends and I can't afford anything around here. We're 25 miles away in Nunn River in a motel." Rather than turning back to me, her eyes settled on the expanse of water in front of us.

"Oh." I couldn't have been more confused. Why is she here? Why drive all the way to Nunn River to stay in a motel? And then why drive 25 miles to this lake, to this marina, and walk this beach? "Are you here for pleasure?"

"Yes." She flashed me a smile. "But I'd love it if someone would send me here for business."

"Trust me, you wouldn't get anything done."

"Ah, the voice of experience? Let me guess--you have a suitcase full of unfinished work inside the cabin?"

"Two," I replied mournfully. "And no desire to work my way through either of them."

"And rightly so. You've earned a vacation. Take it guiltlessly." She smiled at me and it felt like the sun breaking out from behind the clouds.

I hope she understands that I'm not angry with her anymore. "How long will you be in the area?"

"I'm really not sure. I would think for a couple of days at least." Elizabeth fidgeted, smoothing her curls away from her face and digging in the sand with her toes.

"I like your hair. I almost didn't recognize you."

"Yeah..." She tucked a tendril behind her ear. "I wanted something new. I gave a lot of thought to the cut, but the highlighting I did on a whim."

It looks beautiful, I thought, wishing I could rest my cheek against her crown and smell the fragrance of her shampoo.

"William, may I be honest?"

I was taken aback by her request, and I felt more than a little anxiety at the thought that she hadn't been honest so far. "Please."

"I don't know why you're being so nice to me--heaven knows I don't deserve it after defending Wickham and his lies and saying those terrible things about you--"

"You believed me?"

Her smile went straight to my heart. "Yes, I believe you. I really should have realized it on my own, all the signs were there every time I was with him. He complained about everything, nothing was ever his fault...he even was talking about me behind my back. I certainly should have given you the benefit of the doubt. And Jane always told me you had nothing to do with the way Charles's sisters behaved, but I thought I saw something between you and Caroline...signs of her influence over you...."

There were so many things that she'd said that I wanted to respond to, to build on, but her last sentence stopped me cold. "Caroline?"

"Mmm hmmm. I thought I had your number, and Jane was the one who hadn't figured you out."

"Caroline and me?"

"Come on, now, William. She is kind of pretty, and you two were spending a lot of time together."

"Because we were both guests in her brother's house."

"And you were the only person she ever talked to."

"I can't control whom she speaks to..."

"Well I never saw any sign of displeasure. I thought the two of you had decided together that Jane wasn't good enough for Charles. But Jane had it right all along. It was me...I saw only what I wanted to see." The fidgeting returned, her hands moving to straighten her shirt, rearrange her hair, and then lingering, almost reaching, in space between us before brushing sand off her shorts. "Anyway, I don't know why you're being so nice to me, but it makes it easier for me to apologize. William, I'm sorry. And I came here to tell you that."

"You came all this way just to talk to me?" I hope that we can be friends.

Elizabeth turned her face away from me, toward the mountains and trees. "Well, and to see if Caroline Bingley and I could agree on anything. She was so fond of your cabin here and praised it so excessively that I didn't know what to think. She caused profound curiosity, I can tell you that much. Of course I had no idea which one was yours, which is why I was walking down the beach. I didn't even know if we'd come to the right part of the lake, but it is a beautiful afternoon and I wondered if I might be able to find your cabin based on what I know of you. Caroline spoke as though it were immediately obvious from the exterior that it was yours."

"Do you agree with her?"

She smiled impishly, tilting her head to the side. "No. She made it out to be a mansion among fishing huts. It fits in with the neighboring cabins, and the cedar siding and the green roofing blend in beautifully with the scenery. I like it."

"Thank you." My heart was pounding--I had no idea her approval would mean so much to me--but I fought to keep my expression steady.

"I didn't know you'd be here. I've wanted to apologize for a while now, but I wasn't sure when our paths would cross again."

I reached out, wanting to touch her hand but losing my courage at the last moment. My fingertips brushed the skin of her wrist before my arm fell back at my side. "I'm sorry too, Elizabeth."

She held up her hand. "Don't you dare apologize for anything, William. I came 250 miles to say my piece, and I will not have you interrupting!" The last was said with a twinkle of impertinence in her eyes. But immediately she regained her serious demeanor. "I just...I really want you to know that I'm sorry. I misjudged you, and I said some things that I have regretted every day since. I thought, given our last interaction, that you'd angrily turn your back and I'd have to restrain you with ropes to make you listen to my apology. But I was determined to do it anyway."

She fell silent then, and looked at me uncertainly.

"I forgive you."

She shook her head. "It can't be that easy."

"It is."

"No. You need to yell at me and tell me how wrong I was..."

"I did that in the e-mail I sent you."

She smiled, and laughed just a little bit. "I guess you did."

"And now I'm telling you I'd like to begin again." I held my right hand toward her, inviting a conciliatory handshake.

Instead she lifted her left hand and placed it softly in mine. "I really can't see why, William, after my complete and total misjudgment of you. But if you want a new beginning, you have it."

My heart twisted inside my chest, and the flicker of hope I'd been trying to extinguish for months roared into a flame. I want so much more than just a beginning.

"And I'll begin this beginning of ours by saying that--though I don't know everything about you--I know you are a good man. It will be an honor to be called your friend."

I couldn't tell if the sudden wave of heat I felt was because we'd been standing in full sun, or because I finally had received some measure of what I'd been hoping for--searching for--all along: the respect of a woman whose respect was worth earning. I stood on the sand looking at Elizabeth's beautiful dark eyes and merry countenance, holding her hand in mine. For a brief, shining moment everything felt perfect.

I gestured toward the cabin. "Would you like to come in? Get some juice or water? Are you hungry?"

She glanced at her watch. "I need to make my way back to the resort, actually. My friends are probably wondering what has become of me."

"May I walk back with you?" I asked, tugging gently on the hand I held.

She fell into step beside me. "What about all the work you have to do? I wouldn't want to interrupt anything."

Looking into her eyes I replied, "You're no interruption, Elizabeth."

As we walked we spoke about my sister, and I asked if it might be possible to introduce Ana to Elizabeth sometime while she was in the area.

"In some ways I'm at the mercy of my friends, but I would love to meet her William. I've heard only good things about her, and since it wasn't all from Caroline I don't doubt it."

I couldn't help laughing. "You really don't like Caroline, do you?"

"Not much," she admitted. "I really tried to notice her positive attributes when we were together so much last autumn and winter; but everything she did to Jane put her on my bad list forever."

"Implacable resentment, eh? Perhaps we have more in common than we thought."

She looked up at me and her grip on my hand tightened. "I think we both know your resentment isn't implacable."

"Once I form a bad opinion of someone, they lose my respect forever. But I always thought well of you. I was angry and disappointed, but not because of any defect in you."

"This is dangerous territory," she said, turning her gaze to the lake. "I know my deficiencies too well, and I'm not sure I want you to dwell on them just now."

"I won't." I wanted to reach out and brush her hair from her face, but I contented myself with keeping hold of her hand.

When we arrived at the resort she pulled away from me as we crossed the beach in front of the log cabin-style hotel. She picked up her pace, almost running up the stairs toward the entrance, hurrying across the lobby toward a couple peering into the restaurant. When I caught up with them she stood apart from me while introducing her friends. "William, this is Ed Gardiner and Maddie Lamb. Maddie was one of my roommates at college, and Ed would be her fiancé if only he'd ask."

Maddie rolled her eyes, but Ed reached out to grasp my hand. "Nice to meet you William. I wondered why Liz was so fired up about coming to a lake where we had no cabin, no boat, and no friends." He spoke to her over his shoulder. "Sly girl."

Elizabeth blushed bright red.

Maddie shook my hand, too. "Liz mentioned you at Christmas time. I'm glad to meet you."

"And what do you think of the lake?" I asked.

"It's wonderful," Ed said. Elizabeth nodded but remained silent.

"I couldn't wait to come--I was ready to saddle up and ride as soon as Elizabeth suggested a road trip. My grandparents had a tiny cabin on the other side of the lake when I was a young girl, and I spent many happy summers fishing with my grandpa. My father and his two brothers sold the land after my grandparents passed, but it's like returning home to come here again--to smell the pines and feel the breeze."

Maddie's speech gave me the courage to do what I'd wanted to ever since I learned Elizabeth and her friends were based 25 miles away in Nunn River. "Would you all consider staying in my cabin as my guests, rather than the motel? I have plenty of room..."

"We couldn't possibly...!" Elizabeth began, but I intrepidly pressed forward.

"My sister is here with me, you'd have both a host and hostess. I'd be happy to take you out on the lake tomorrow--Maddie, you could show us where your grandparents' cabin was." I grew flustered when I noticed the shock in Elizabeth's eyes. "It wouldn't be any trouble," I hurriedly finished.

Maddie didn't even look at her traveling companions as she answered, "We'd love to stay on the lake!"

"Are you sure you have enough bedrooms?" Ed asked.

"I can easily find places for all of you, for however long you intend to stay in the area," I answered. "Can you be back in time for dinner? I'll throw something together while you check out of the motel."

"We couldn't impose like that," Elizabeth said.

"Please--Ana will love it. I will love it. It is always a pleasure introducing new people to our favorite places."

"You don't have to convince me, William. It sounds absolutely perfect," Maddie said. "As long as Elizabeth can vouch for you not being a homicidal maniac. Let's go get our stuff, you two!"

When Ana arrived from her day of sailing she passed through the kitchen quickly en route to shower and change. "I'm home!" Ten seconds later she returned to the kitchen, walking backward and retracing her steps. "What happened while I was gone?"

"Why do you ask?"

"For one thing you're actually cooking. I mean, I know you can, but you're really going at it. Is that apple chicken I smell?"

"Yup."

"But the biggest giveaway is you're smiling. Beaming. William, you look like the happiest man on earth. It's...eerie. Tell me what happened."

I continued chopping vegetables for salad. "I ran into a friend, and invited her to stay with us."

"Her. I see. This wouldn't happen to be Gwen, would it?"

"No, it isn't Gwen."

"An old girlfriend?"

"Hey, I said friend."

"Yes, you did. And then you used the feminine pronoun. And your face is almost split in two with joy. I think there's a connection between the female friend and the smile."

"Her name is Elizabeth," I said, "and her traveling companions are coming, too. Go shower."

I knew Ana was nervous, thinking she was so much younger than any of the rest of us and would have nothing in common. So I loved the way Elizabeth put her at ease, discussing classes, professors, music, and movies as though she were one of Ana's roommates. I loved watching them together, acting like old friends, even if it meant that Elizabeth didn't have much to say to me.

After dinner and dishes were done Maddie suggested we play cards, as she had always done in the evenings while visiting her grandparents' cabin, and Ana found an old deck of "Go Fish" cards in a drawer in the kitchen. The others actually played a hand while I searched through drawers and bureaus, coming up with several decks of playing cards. I returned to the living room to see all four of them sitting on the floor.

"Ana--do you have a Leroy Lobster?" Elizabeth asked, holding a single card.

"You know I don't! Go fish!"

Elizabeth pulled the last card from the pile at the center and, with a smile on her face, muttered, "I've had this card the whole game, can't get rid of it..."

"Liz, do you have Olivia Octopus?" Maddie asked.

Elizabeth handed over the card she'd just drawn.

"Fish, fish, got my wish! I'm out!"

When all the cards were paired up Elizabeth triumphantly announced, "See!? I was cursed with the unmatchable card! There is only one Leroy Lobster!"

"Fear not, Elizabeth, I have a full deck with all 52 cards. What shall we play?" I asked.

We worked our way through Hearts, 99, and President before Maddie announced that she just couldn't stay awake another second. I had hoped for a couple of moments alone with Elizabeth, but she walked downstairs with the others, a quick, "Goodnight, William, and thanks for everything," tossed over her shoulder before she passed from view.

We got an early start the next morning, skiing while the lake was still smooth and exploring lakeshore before the sun got too high. In the afternoon we drove to a nearby stand of ancient forest, untouched by forest fires for upwards of 400 years, and hiked through an ancient path cluttered with fallen trees. While Ana and I prepared dinner Elizabeth went out to the balcony and called her family on her cell phone.

The conversation was long, extending past the preparations and--with Elizabeth's nodded permission--into mealtime. When she joined us she wore a somber expression, and she said little for the remainder of the night. Though she sat beside me while we watched one of Ana's DVDs, her concentration was elsewhere. When it was time to retire she stood before me, searching my eyes before she smiled at me. "Goodnight, William. Thank you for inviting us here, and for such a marvelous day."

"Why do I feel like you're saying goodbye?" I asked.

"Not goodbye. Just goodnight." She walked downstairs with the others again, and I stood and listened until her bedroom door was closed for the night. I walked out onto the balcony, looking at the stars and wishing she were with me, warm in my embrace.

The next morning I woke early and, peering out my bedroom window, saw Elizabeth on the beach, pacing in front of the lake, her cell phone to her ear. I dressed hurriedly and rushed to the balcony. She finished the conversation and flipped the phone shut just as I descended the stairs to approach her.

"Is everything okay?" I asked.

"Oh, yes," she said, forcing a smile on her face. "Good morning, William." She hadn't showered yet. Her curls were untamed and wild, her skin free of make up and soft from sleep.

"Are you sure?" I placed my hands on her arms so she'd look at me.

Instead her eyes dropped to my chest. After some hesitation, she said, "Yes. Everything's fine."

"It isn't. I can tell from your voice. Elizabeth, what's happened?"

She cleared her throat; and then, as though she'd just had an idea, a smile crossed her face. "Jane and Charles had dinner a few days ago, and I think they might get back together."

"That would be wonderful," I said. "Charles couldn't find anyone more perfect for him."

"I don't think he could find anyone more perfect, period."

"She's a great match for him, but she isn't perfect for everyone. For example, she wouldn't suit me."

"Oh?" Elizabeth said. But she refrained from asking, as I wished she might, "Who would?"

"What else, happened, Elizabeth? What has you so worried and quiet?"

"Nothing."

"Is it something you can't tell me?"

A breeze blew her hair, making it even wilder. In a voice so quiet I almost couldn't hear her, she said, "What would you think of me?"

"What do you mean, Elizabeth?" I asked, growing concerned.

She turned to face me, her eyes locked on mine. "My youngest sister Lydia ran away with her boyfriend the night before last. My parents think they may have gone to Vegas, but they haven't heard from her. Of course it goes without saying they don't like him much. Anyway, they asked me to come home." Her eyes flickered toward the cabin. "And I said no."

"Why, Elizabeth?" I asked, my grip on her arms growing tighter. "Do you need to go? I mean, what I can I do to help? I can take you to the airport, save you a few hours driving time...I can drive you back to your parents' house myself, if Ed and Maddie don't want to leave yet..."

"It isn't that I'm not worried, but...but what would I do? Just sit there with them and fret? Lydia's choices are her own and she'll make them regardless of what the rest of us do. And meanwhile, this is my future." Her speech came to an abrupt halt, and her gaze dropped to the sand. "This is my choice. This is my chance."

"Chance for what, Elizabeth?" I asked, pulling her closer to me.

When she raised her face again she had tears glistening in her eyes. "Chance with you."

That was all it took. The dam in my heart burst and all the love I felt for her pulsed through me. I gathered her into my arms, kissing her forehead, hesitant to pull away. Slowly, deliberately, my lower lip traced the line from her forehead down her nose, following the curves of her face, lingering somewhere between a kiss and a caress. I could feel her breath on my neck, her arms wrapping around my waist. As I reached the tip of her nose she raised her face, finding my mouth and kissing me eagerly.

How many times since I met her had I envisioned greeting the day together--kissing as the sun rose? How many times before she rejected me did I see her here, on my beach--our beach--with the breeze teasing her hair? How many times had I dreamed the feeling of her skin, the taste of her mouth? I would have thought this just another fantasy if not for the reality of her body softly pressed to mine, her arms around me, her fingers in my hair, and her gentle sounds of encouragement. I slowly savored her kiss, feeling complete with her in my arms, holding her tightly so that she could never leave me. Never.

Her lips lingered on mine, planting soft, quick kisses before she opened her eyes. When she smiled at me, my heart soared.

Efforts at forgetting Elizabeth had always been futile; she was air and food to me, basic and essential. She was the one woman who would forever be etched in my heart--the one woman upon whom my happiness absolutely depended. "I never want to be anywhere without you again."

Her fingertips trailed across my eyes, nose, cheeks, and lips. "Thank God," she whispered. And then she kissed me.

The End

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