Meant to Be
for Sofie on her birthday

From time to time something totally unexpected happens, rearranging and rerouting our lives onto a path we never expected we'd travel. Just such a string of events occurred in the summer between my sophomore and junior years of college.

My cousin Jane and I didn't spend too much time together when we were kids; not only did two states separate us, but she was calm and well-behaved, and I was, well, a tomboy--loud, fast, and active. At night (talking when we should have been sleeping) we found no end of subjects, but during the day our interests lay in different directions.

Until we both grew, that is. Eventually tomboys leave behind the trees and skinned knees, and Jane and I had much more common ground and our relationship flourished; so much so that we chose a reputable university somewhere in the middle of both our families and attended there together, e-mailing and calling constantly during summer break. Jane became my confidante, my closest friend, my sounding board, and my conscience.

During that fateful summer, Jane's parents, who had dreamed their whole lives of visiting Europe, finally had saved and planned and, with the help of a very fortuitous job assignment, were able to fulfill their dream. So Jane came home to live with my family for the four-month break.

On one of our first outings into town we happened to see Charlie and Carol Bingley, who I knew from high school. Our school was fairly large--about 2,000 students, graduating class of 660--so it was easy to see someone in the halls nearly every day for three years without ever becoming really close to them. Charlie was a good enough guy--basketball player, decent grades, nice to everyone. We never really hung out together, but I liked him from a distance. His twin sister Carol was another story entirely: she was the snobbiest girl in the entire school--you know the kind, drove an expensive car, wore the most fashionable clothes, wouldn't speak to anyone outside her clique.

I smiled and nodded at Charlie and ignored Carol. She wasn't looking at me, anyway. She was too busy following around some guy I'd never seen before. Not that I'd seen everyone; ours was only one of six high schools in the area, and two whole years had passed since graduation. He could have been a local, new in the area, here for college, or any one of a number of other possibilities.

The following evening, Charlie called for me. Well as it turned out it actually wasn't for me, but I was the only one he could talk to. "Hi, Liz, this is Charlie Bingley. How've you been?"

"Just great, Charlie."

"It's terrific to talk to you. You went out of state for college?"

"Yup."

"And how have you liked it?"

"It's been a riot. How is good old State U?" I asked him.

"Oh, you know...everything we always heard it would be."

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Of course..."

"The bigger question," I said impertinently, "is are you making good grades?"

"Yeah, well..." There was a short pause while each of us tried to think of things to say. We'd hardly spoken in high school, hadn't seen each other for two years, and had no base to build on. Charlie finally pressed on: "Listen, I saw you with someone at the mall yesterday..."

"My cousin Jane. She's here visiting for the summer." I swear I could hear an exhale of relief from his end of the phone.

"Well, Carol and I are sort of putting together a party for a new guy whose family has just moved here--just to introduce him to people our age, you know--and we were wondering if you and Jane would like to come."

Suddenly, I understood perfectly. He was calling for Jane. But he couldn't ask for her, because he didn't know her name and had never been introduced. "When are you throwing this party?" I asked.

"Well, it's really nothing--not so much a party as a casual evening--but we're doing it this Friday, at our parents' house."

"Just a minute, I'll ask Jane," I said. She agreed, and both our lives were about to receive a good jostling.

I'd never been to the Bingleys' home before, but it was clear from the location and the size that they had plenty of money. Charlie sought us out as soon as he saw us, and spent more time with Jane than with anyone else--even with his newly arrived friend William Darcy. Truth be told, William looked bored (or perhaps even displeased) with the gathering. He stood uncomfortably in a corner and only spoke when someone approached and addressed him. I had a great time--I was in a room full of people I hadn't seen for two years, and I spent hours in conversation.

It was getting late when Jane and I settled on a sofa to talk about everything we'd done and when we wanted to leave. I was particularly interested in what Jane thought of Charlie, so we sat together and spoke softly about her evening. Our location (near William's brooding spot) made us privy to a discussion between Charlie and the guest of honor. "William," he said, his voice quiet but chastening, "you haven't even moved. How are you supposed to meet people if you just sit here and don't make any effort?"

"Everyone you invited already knows each other, Charlie. They're not interested in me."

"They would be, if you'd talk to them," Charlie insisted.

"No, they're talking about old times and college and shared experiences. I have nothing in common with them."

"Of course they know each other! They all grew up in or live in the same city! And now, you live here too--and if you hope to make friends, you're actually going to have to talk to some of them." By now Jane and I had stopped our conversation; William and Charlie had all our attention, though we tried to listen discreetly.

"I can't make friends at a gathering like this," William insisted. "I can't remember all the names, and I can't talk about anything that matters. In a room this crowded, everything everyone says is meaningless."

"Nonsense!" Charlie exclaimed. "I met someone new tonight, and learned a great deal about her!"

"Yes, I noticed," William said with a smirk. "Ignored all the rest of your guests."

I was the only one with a clear view of their faces, so I chanced a glance at them and saw Charlie's expression go all dreamy. "I've never met anyone like Jane," he said with a sigh. "I'm glad she's going to be here all summer. Maybe I'll get a chance to..." His voice drifted off, but from the look on his face I guessed that his imagination was highly active.

"I suppose I should make other friends then, since you'll be busy all summer," William said.

That snapped Charlie out of his reverie. "Well, you've always got Carol." With my sneaky peek I couldn't quite make out William's opinion about that, but the expression that covered his face wasn't instant pleasure anyway.

"And Jane's cousin Liz is a really nice girl, and I've always thought she was cute." I kept my eyes carefully down on my lap, but when I dared a look up at Jane she was almost laughing at me. We both knew that William and Charlie were evaluating me.

"You were friends in high school?" William asked Charlie.

"Not really--I mean, I knew her, knew of her, and she's likeable, but...no, we never really moved in the same circles..."

"And why would I spend time with someone you didn't even befriend? You're friends with everyone Charlie, so I can only assume that there's something wrong with..." I think I heard a sort of "umf" noise, perhaps Charlie smacking William, and his comments ended abruptly right there.

At the same time, Jane gently took my arm and wrapped it around hers, saying, "You know, Lizzy, I'm pretty tired after all. Perhaps it's time to leave."

What would they all think of me if they knew I wasn't offended? Why would I care about William Darcy's opinion? I mean, it didn't make me like him any more, but what did that matter?

Charlie called three days later to invite us to the drive-in for a double feature. I hadn't been to the drive-in since I was a little girl so we said yes, even though William was going to be there too. Carol sat next to him and talked the whole evening, though, and I was on the other side of Charlie and Jane, so I never even had to say anything to him besides "hello" and "goodbye." I did catch him looking at me a few times, and I suspected he was finding the numerous things that were wrong with me.

I thought Charlie might be comfortable enough to begin asking Jane out without feeling like he needed to invite me too, but our entire summer progressed the same way--two or three nights each week we'd get together as a group. Our activities varied, but the participants never did--Carol (who ignored me and Jane almost completely), Jane and Charlie, William, and me. After a month or two I figured I couldn't politely keep avoiding William. He seemed to stare at me for most of the time we were together but he no longer looked as severe. I figured that, for whatever reason, he expected me to make the first overtures of friendship; so one evening when we went for pizza I sat next to him, and asked him about himself. I discovered that he had a cute half-smile, was sort of self-deprecating, and didn't have as much to say about himself as I would have expected. But he put his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand when I answered questions about me. His eyes never left mine, and he listened absolutely attentively.

Eventually, near the end of the summer, Charlie grew very serious about Jane: I think he would have offered to transfer to our university a state and a half away if she'd have given him any sign. But no--Jane knew she and Charlie came from different worlds and different states, and she tried her best to keep their relationship casual, even though I could tell she was deeply infatuated.

The night before Jane and I left to drive back to school Charlie and William came over to my house--sans Carol, for once. Jane and Charlie went out to the back yard to talk in the waning evening light, and William and I stayed in the kitchen with my parents and my sisters. He hinted several times that he'd like to take a walk or something, but we stayed in the kitchen until Charlie and Jane returned. When Jane and I walked them out to the driveway to William's car, William gently touched my hair, kissed my cheek, and told me he'd miss me. I figured he was struggling to know what to do, given Charlie and Jane's tearful farewell on the other side of the car.

After a month back at school, I could tell Jane missed Charlie. She was a changed woman--melancholy, preoccupied, unsocial. "I liked him more than I meant to," she explained one night with tears in her eyes. "I tried to just be a friend, but he was so sweet and so sincere and I just..." She sniffed and dabbed at her eyes. "I just fell in love, I guess." Charlie must have too, given his frequent, long calls.

So in the last half of October we took a long weekend and drove back to my parents' home--and to Charlie. Jane's happy smile and glowing countenance returned and Charlie looked like he was walking on air. We went to the drive-in the last night before it closed for the winter, toting chairs and blankets and coats, prepared to huddle in the cold autumn night. Carol was dressed in something flimsy but fashionable. "Oh, William, I'm so glad I'm here with you to keep me warm on a night like tonight!"

I had long ago noticed William didn't enjoy Carol's constant fawning. He even once confessed (kindly, for William Darcy was nothing if not polite) that he wished she'd give him a little more space. So given his tolerance and politeness, I didn't expect his reaction to Carol's overt invitation. "Carol, I'm more with Liz than I am with you!"

Carol gaped, her jaw inelegantly slack. I'm sure my expression was not far different. I stuttered, "You're...what?"

William stood in my space, right next to me, and gave me the sexiest half smile I'd ever seen. "I'm with you," he said. And then he kissed me. It was soft, but not tentative; I felt his arms go around me, felt his hand in my hair, cradling my head. It progressed into the most amazing kiss--long, strong, deep. It felt so good I never wanted it to end.

But it did. I opened my eyes and saw William's face close to mine wearing an enigmatic smile. He settled me into the seat next to him, covered us both with blankets, and wrapped his arm around me. Even after the movie started I could feel his gaze turned to me more often than toward the screen; he frequently pressed short kisses on my cheek or nuzzled my neck.

I was in turmoil. How could kissing William feel so deliciously good? I hardly even liked him. He thought there was something wrong with me, after all. I was torn between being uncomfortable sitting beside him, and relishing his warmth and attention.

An hour into the movie William began tracing my chin--first with his fingers, and then with his nose. When I defiantly turned my face toward his to demand an explanation he kissed me again, most insistently. Carol was huffing and puffing in indignation on the other side of Charlie, paying more heed to us than to the movie.

I needed to speak with him privately. "Listen, uh...William, I need a drink. Or something. Are you thirsty?"

"I'll walk back with you," he said, taking the bait.

As soon as we were out of our companions' hearing, I said, "You're laying it on a little thick, don't you think?"

"Pardon?"

"If you're trying to discourage Carol, I think you could have done that just by sitting next to me, maybe sharing a blanket. Okay, maybe it would have taken one kiss, but..."

"You think I'm doing this for Carol?" he asked, chuckling. "You think I kissed you to prove something to her?" That sexy half smile reappeared. "Elizabeth, it has nothing to do with Carol. I'm in love with you. I've loved you for so..." He sighed and shook his head, and then kissed me again--more intensely than ever. "You are the smartest, funniest, most amazing woman I've ever met." I allowed myself to be swept away by his passion, and I returned his kisses with equal fervor.

We returned to our seats, and I relaxed into the heat of his embrace, listening happily to his murmurs and confessions. He was saying everything I'd ever longed to hear. I felt so treasured. When we returned to my house he walked me to my door, holding my hand tightly. He put his forehead on mine and said, "You are the most beautiful person I know," and kissed me again. I felt the warmth and affection that emanated from him, and I slept contentedly all night.

But I woke in the morning and immediately began with self-evaluation. He loved me? Since when? And if so, why stare at me for hours on end without speaking? Why skip over dating and right to kissing? Why not put in some effort at being likeable? Did he just assume that I'd be in love too, because he was? That his affection for me (however charming) would override all the silence and distance of our entire previous relationship? Did he think that I could ignore the fact that I barely knew him and just decide (based on nothing) that he was the man for me?

It didn't take long before I'd worked myself into indignation, and I was still fully fired up when William arrived mid-morning with a smile as wide as Rhode Island and a small bouquet of flowers. He didn't even wait for a word from me before pulling me into his arms and kissing me. You know, I can almost believe that he does love me, I thought. I've never been kissed like this. But he didn't ask. He didn't even say hello. He just...

I pushed him away. "What do you think you're doing? You can't just march in here and..."

He interrupted, still grinning. "Good morning, sweet Elizabeth. Do you know how many times I've wanted to kiss you? How often I wished I could see you every morning, afternoon, and night? I don't know what I'm going to do when you go back to school. I'll probably call you every day until Christmas break, and then I won't let you out of my sight..."

"That's pretty presumptuous. What if I don't want to see you every moment?"

"But...why wouldn't you...?"

"Why? You kissed me, William Darcy. Any talk of feelings has been one-sided. You don't even know what I think of you, do you? I'll tell you. I'm not in love with you--I only barely like you. You never spoke directly to me, for months! You talked to everyone but me, and even told Charlie there must be something wrong with me because we weren't close friends in high school!"

"I didn't mean...Elizabeth, I didn't know anything about you!"

"All the more reason to hold your tongue!" I yelled, my temper fully inflamed.

He took my hands very gently into his, and said pleadingly, "Elizabeth, you are everything I had ever hoped to find. I want to make you happy. We were meant for each other--can't you see that?"

"No, I can't see that! I don't even know anything about you, William, except that you moved here about four months ago because your dad got a big promotion. You never give me a glimpse into your thoughts. I can't tell what you're feeling by looking at your face. I have no idea what you like, what you believe, what you think..."

He looked shaken and insecure. "I think of you. Constantly."

"Great. I'm glad you think well of me. But you have to accept that I've never thought at all of you." As true as that may have been, I knew it was too harsh the moment I said it. William's entire countenance fell. "I never knew you had any feelings for me. I always thought you were...well, sort of stuck up, because you never talked to us. You just sat and stared."

He put his hands on my cheeks. "Elizabeth, I'm in love with you. You have no idea how deeply I feel. I need to... I want a chance to make you love me, too. Please, Elizabeth. I can't imagine my life without you." Everything about him, from his voice to his eyes to his body posture, bespoke begging.

"Can't imagine...? William, your life has always been without me! What do you mean you can't imagine it?"

He had no answer. He just took my hands in his again and looked at me absorbedly, pleadingly--with such intensity that I grew uncomfortable. How could I be anything but? Here was an incredibly attractive man holding onto my hands and telling me he loved me, and I had just told him I had no feelings for him.

Which wasn't precisely true. All that stuff about not knowing him was accurate, but how could I have remained unaffected by those kisses? How could I stay neutral through his declarations--through the admiration that was so obvious in his eyes?

"William, I...I'm not comfortable with this. This...this contact, this closeness." He let go of my hands and dropped his arms to his sides, making me feel even worse. "I don't have the feelings that would allow me to..."

"I'll leave," he said with a deep sigh. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable. But I can't stay away, Elizabeth--I can't." He looked at the floor and spoke quietly. "You mean too much to me."

Unsurprisingly I could think of nothing else the rest of the day. William--his tenderness, his kisses--filled my idle moments, and made me ineffective in my activity. Late in the evening William called me, his voice subdued. "Will you tell me your e-mail address? I have something I'd like to send you."

I told him, and waited with greatest curiosity for it to appear in my inbox.

I love you, Elizabeth.

My favorite color is green.

I grew up in New Jersey.

I attended Catholic private schools from kindergarten through high school graduation, even though I'm not Catholic.

I'm majoring in business, minoring in Japanese.

I have a little sister--Anna, age 11. No other siblings.

We moved here because my father was promoted to CEO when his predecessor retired.

You're my favorite thing about this place. I don't even miss NJ when I think of you.

I love you.

I'm sorry I never told you anything about myself. I was more interested in you. If you have any questions, please ask.

My heart started to pound. He wanted me to know him. Two I love yous. My mind was a flurry of confusion, and I slept poorly all night.

The next morning he called, thankfully while I was in the shower so I didn't have to talk to him. In late afternoon I had another e-mail waiting in my inbox.

I'll assume you didn't have any questions.

I learned how to surf in Hawaii when I was 12 years old. I love surfing, and I love Hawaii. I'd like to go there someday...with you.

My best friend from elementary school is in prison now--convicted of dealing drugs. I haven't seen him since his family moved away from Jersey when we were in fourth grade.

My mother loves sewing. She makes quilts.

I broke my nose playing peewee football when I was 10, so at the delicate age of 11 I had plastic surgery--a nose job.

Mice don't bother me, but I would scream and run from a rat.

I love you.

I smiled as I thought of William Darcy screaming and running from anything. I imagined news of the rhinoplasty would only make Carol like him more. I could hear my pulse pounding in my ears, but I couldn't think of anything to say in reply.

Jane and I left early the next morning to drive back to school. Before I left I found this message waiting for me:

Please drive safely. I'll miss you. I love you.

When we arrived at school many hours later and unpacked, this was in my inbox:

I love the way your eyes sparkle in the sunlight. Your laughter sounds like a cross between a tinkling bell and a flowing stream. I always smile when I hear you laughing. I wish I could hear it right now.

I'm always too warm at night. Even in the winter I need no more than sheets. (My sheets are navy blue.)

Autumn is my favorite season--I like the sunny days, just warm enough to get away with only a sweater, and the cold nights. I love the colors of autumn leaves. Maple leaves are my favorite.

I love you.

Even though I never responded, William continued to fill my inbox with both trivia and deep thoughts. I learned what flavor toothpaste he used and received a long essay about his favorite novel. He told me at length why he thought James and Dolly Madison had a model marriage, and he scanned and sent doodles from the margins of notes he took in statistics class. He never failed to tell me he loved me.

I was scared to go back home at Christmas break--scared to see him again. I still wasn't clear about my own feelings, but I knew without doubting that he loved me. Loved me enough to tell me anything and everything he could think about himself--enough to persist without a speck of encouragement.

When I saw him again--from a distance, across a crowded room--I felt like a voyeur. In two short months I had learned the inner working of his heart and mind. I knew things about him no one else on earth knew. His eyes met mine and even far away I could see the love and hope in his face.

I left. I didn't know what to say or how to act, and I left the party before we could even talk. I hid in my bedroom on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, and then I did the most cowardly thing of all.

I ran away.

Far away, to my grandmother's house in Northern California. I didn't know how accept his love or handle his devotion, and I ran away. But his e-mails found me at Grandma's .

I miss you so much. I didn't even get to hear your voice or touch the soft skin of your face. I didn't get to hear your laughter.

I want to come visit you. I want to see you and hold you in my arms.

Christmas was wonderful, except that I wished you could be a part of it. Anna gave me a cup she made in art class that says "William" on it, glazed in green. The handle is crooked...

Every day he wrote to me as though I was part of his life, as though he knew I cared, as though I responded. He shared his hopes and his dreams, and never, never let me doubt his love.

I found a job close to Grandma's house and registered for distance courses from my university. I missed Jane so much, but she and Charlie had finally confessed they were in love, so she was happy and preoccupied.

My second week at Grandma's I opened a message from William.

I wonder what you thought of me last summer whenever you looked at me. Did you like what you saw? Did you even think about it? Did you have any feelings about me at all?

I know you're going to think me stupid, but I never realized you weren't falling in love with me. I was so smitten I couldn't read you. Every time I looked at you, I only saw my life companion...the mother of my children...the most amazing woman I've ever known. I guess there wasn't any room left for me to realize you didn't like me.

Even now, despite evidence to the contrary, I imagine that you read every single one of these letters--that in some small way, you care. I try to imagine your responses, to envision what you'd want to tell me.

I love you, Elizabeth. I miss you so much I ache.

Through my tears with a powerful emptiness in my soul, I wrote,

I love you too, William.

I cried myself to sleep thinking of him.

I allowed my feelings to grow gradually, though they were already well progressed when I acknowledged them; I savored the feeling of loving and being in love, of learning and telling and sharing. From that night on, I responded to every message he sent, printing and keeping all the letters--the feeling was too new, too strong to send it through e-mail or the postal system. If I was going to give him my heart, I wanted to do it in person.

In March the messages slowed down to every other day, then to twice a week. In April they came once a week, but they were still the same messages, full of love and devotion. He wrote,

It is the end of another semester. I remember a year ago when I met you for the first time. Did you know I was attracted to you the moment I saw you? I thought you were--I think you are--beautiful. But it was really listening to you talking to Jane, listening to your jokes and mirth, listening to your ideas about things, watching you defend yourself or support someone else--those were the things that made me fall in love with you. The way you planted your feet before you argued with me, as though you were standing your ground. The way your laughter showed in your eyes whenever Carol did something ridiculous. The way you held my hand in yours when I cut it on the fence, pressing gently on the wound to stop the bleeding. My heart was completely yours, and you never even asked for it. Maybe never wanted it.

I love you, Elizabeth. I think about you all the time. I have to struggle not to think about you when I have other things to do--like right now. I miss you. I wonder when I'll see you again.

I remember the first time I saw you, too. I remember watching Carol follow you around that store in the mall, hanging on your arm. I thought you were handsome, and I never imagined you would look twice at me. It took me so long to understand what was under the silence, the reserve--but now I understand. We are meant for each other. I love you so much.

I didn't receive a single message from William in May, though I didn't doubt he still loved me. My stack of letters to him continued to grow.

Today I drove to a state park and walked for an hour through the trees, listening to the silence, thinking of you. I wonder what you're doing? How are you spending your summer?

I, too, wonder what will happen when we see each other again. How I wish I could go back to last Christmas and do things differently. I would run across the room to you and throw my arms around your neck, thanking you for the wonderful gift of yourself that you have shared in your messages. I did read every one, William. I saved most of them, perhaps all of them. You let me see inside your soul. I love you.

In early August, I knew it was time. I gathered all of my courage about me and I prepared to return home. I sent William a single e-mail message:

I'm coming home, and I have a present for you. I'll see you soon.

My entire family was gathered to celebrate my return. It felt strange not to have Jane waiting for me--instead, she was at her own home two states away. Charlie was visiting her there, so even he wasn't around when I arrived. I never expected William to be waiting at my parents' home, but I felt his absence most keenly.

The following week Charlie returned, bringing Jane with him. The first time I saw William was at Charlie's house, where we'd gathered for pizza and a video. William walked through the door, looking everywhere but at me, and shyly pulled a girl in afterward. At first I hoped it was Anna, but realized that she was too old, and that as they held hands their fingers were laced together. No, this wasn't Anna.

William introduced Darla to everyone, looking at me only for a flicker of a second as he said my name. He and Darla sat on the far side of Charlie, and I sat next to Jane; I couldn't concentrate on the movie because my heart was breaking.

I volunteered to go to the kitchen to get drinks for everyone; it was all I could do not to cry as soon as I was out of the room, but as I filled a tray with sodas and glasses I was glad I'd fought it. I heard footsteps behind me, and a deep sigh. "Hi, Elizabeth."

"Hello, William."

"You're finally home."

"Yes--finally." Home too late, I thought.

"Can I help you with those?"

Forcing a smile onto my face, I turned and said, "No, I've got it, thanks."

He stared at the tray, and then looked into my eyes and flashed me a disarming smile. "You said you have a present for me."

I swallowed the lump in my throat as I thought of the stack of letters I wrote him, each one containing my mind and my heart. "I didn't bring it. I didn't know you'd be here. I'll have to...uh...bring it the next time we...see each other."

He looked in my eyes a few seconds more and said, "I can't wait to see what it is."

Me, either, I thought. I can't give him all those letters now. I'll have to think of something else.

For the week that remained before Jane and I had to drive back to school, we met as a group every night. William never mentioned the present again, which suited me fine since I couldn't for the life of me think of a replacement. Sometimes Carol joined us, sometimes she didn't; most often I was the fifth wheel. I was so involved in watching William with Darla that I wasn't even properly thrilled for Jane and Charlie.

Saturday--our last full day before leaving--Charlie planned a hike in one of the local canyons. Early in the morning he arrived to pick Jane and me up. To my great surprise, William was already in the back seat of Charlie's car.

"Where's Darla this morning?" I asked without looking at him.

William's voice dropped very low. "She knows who you are, Liz."

Knows who I am? What does that mean? I wondered.

William continued, "She said she would be uncomfortable spending a whole day with all of us."

"More uncomfortable hanging out with us than sending you alone? I'd worry..." I said, but stopped abruptly when I realized that I could hardly finish the sentence. I'd worry that someone would steal you away.

William shook his head. "No, she's not worried. She knows exactly how I feel."

I was silent during the ride into the canyon, struggling to keep the pieces of my broken heart from exploding all over the car. I was likewise quiet through most of the hike; just thinking about Darla--so confident in William's love that she didn't mind sending him away for a day with me--made tears creep into my eyes, and I knew if I spoke the dam would burst.

After lunch Charlie and Jane walked down a side path, leaving William and me alone with the weight of everything that had never been said or acknowledged. I slowly began to pick my way down the trail, just to give me occupation and distraction. William followed immediately behind me, never saying a word, only silently reassuring and protecting me. A small part of me basked in having him near me again, watching over me.

The trail became increasingly steep as we descended. I learned first-hand that it is easier to climb up than to scuttle down, although we made steady, silent progress. At the top of a deeply inclined wall I stopped to rest, and William stood with me, close, but not close enough. "Would you like a drink of my water?" he asked, holding out the water bag he'd been carrying. "It's a little warm, but..."

"I'd love some, thank you," I answered, taking the bag from his hand. Our fingers touched and I almost lost control of my turbulent emotions. I was glad for the chance to close my eyes tightly and drink. I took a deep breath before looking at him again. "So what do you think? Do we turn around and climb down this one backward?" I asked.

"That's probably safest. I'll go first, and if you come right after me I can...help you...if you need it. Not that I think you can't do it yourself, but..."

"Thanks, William. I'll follow."

He turned around and began climbing backward down the face of the rock. When he was one body length down, he waited for me. "Are you okay? Feel stable?" he asked.

"I'm fine. Feels just like when we climbed up."

We negotiated the rock without incident. Sometimes William grabbed my foot and guided it into the most secure spot, sometimes he held my leg while I moved into a new position. It was more than I needed, but it made my heart soar to think he might still care for me enough to get me down safely.

He reached the bottom, and said, "I can help you down the last little bit. Turn around." He placed his hands on my waist and helped me turn to face him. "Just put your hands on my shoulders, and..." He lifted me off the rock and placed me safely on the ground with him. He never removed his hands from my waist, but looked intensely into my eyes; I could see inside his gaze the man I'd come to know and love through the messages. I felt in my soul every assurance he'd ever given me that he loved me. I had no thoughts of Darla, or of Charlie and Jane, nor anyone else in the world--only him.

Without thinking, without evaluating, I moved my hand across his shoulder, behind his neck, and into his hair, pulling him closer, while I rose on my toes to reach his lips. I kissed him timidly at first, but then I began to pour out all my feelings and longings, thinking of every word I'd ever written in those letters. Before long, his arms were around me, pulling me close.

He inhaled sharply and gripped my shoulders, holding me away from him. With furrowed brow, he asked, "Why did you kiss me like that, Elizabeth?"

In a flash I remembered leaving him without a word at Christmas. I remembered all the tender messages that he never received a response to. I remembered Darla's hand entwined with his. "I thought...we were... I'm sorry, William. You're seeing someone seriously, and I had no right..."

His grasp tightened. "No apologies. No excuses. Just tell me why you kissed me like that." He moved his hands to my cheeks. "And please, Elizabeth, I need the truth. Please."

"It just...seemed so right," I floundered. "But it wasn't, was it?"

"Why did it seem right? Please, tell me."

I felt the tears I'd been suppressing all day fill my eyes. "Because I'm in love with you."

His entire body relaxed, and he smiled at me before drawing me into his arms and kissing me again and again. He pulled away, keeping his arms around me. He sounded almost stern as he said, "That's essential information, Elizabeth! When you fall in love with me, you tell me!"

"I just did." I traced the outline of his face with my finger.

"No, you don't understand. You can't let me spend my life with someone else when I'm in love with you and you with me!"

I swallowed hard. "The rest of your...?"

He gently held my chin. "You never responded. You left without saying a word. After six months of trying, I had to accept that you would never love me. Elizabeth, I don't want to be alone--no one wants to be alone. I figured I'd find someone who would understand, that perhaps I could have a home and a wife and children..."

"You gave up on me the same time I admitted I was in love with you."

"Why didn't you say something?" he asked, with pain in his eyes. "Why didn't you call or write? The minute you got home, why didn't you tell me?"

"William, I had no right. How many times had I rejected you before? Why should I think I'd still have a chance? Why would you be waiting for me to change my mind? What about Darla?"

"I told you, she knows how I feel. She knows I'm in love with you--I was always honest about that. And why should you tell me? Because you are part of me. We were meant for each other. Because I could never really be happy with anyone else. Because you are my partner, my friend, and the mother of my future children."

Now my tears were falling in earnest. "Oh, William..."

"I love you Elizabeth."

"I love you, too."

This time we were so lost in each other we didn't even realize when Charlie and Jane caught up with us. If they struggled down the rock face, we didn't hear any of it. Minutes or hours might have passed, I knew not which. I only knew I was in William's arms, where I was always meant to be.

We were married the following May, just weeks after we had each graduated from college. Our first child arrived two summers later. William kept my stack of letters in a drawer in his desk, and he often reread my account of falling in love with him, as I was always meant to do.

The End

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