start praying now. Remember, God promises that heâs near us no matter what.â
âCan you pray I feel that? I know it . . . I just feel so alone right now.â
SEVEN
February
M aybe this phone call was a mistake.
Maybe Elisabeth should have figured out a way to ignore the whispered refrains of the conversation between her and Jamie the Sunday after the wedding that replayed in her mind. Maybe she shouldnât have gone searching for her high school yearbooks when sheâd been home for Christmas, telling her mom it was just because her ten-year reunion was coming up in the New Yearâand then flipped through the pages, searching for photos of her and Jamie. Maybe she needed to ignore the lingering sense of wanting . . . more.
But no. She had to go and call Tori. Ask how married life was. And then ask to speak to Peter.
âYou want what?â Peter almost shouted the question at her through the phone line.
âJamie Traversâs e-mail address.â Elisabeth ignored the pile of essays waiting to be graded. âI thought about calling him, but I think an e-mail might be a better first step.â
âFirst step to what?â
âSaying hello. Come on, Peter, I just want to e-mail him. Ask how heâs doing. And if he e-mails me back, then we can start a conversation.â
âWhy?â
She hadnât expected Toriâs husband to grill her like some TV detective when she asked him for Jamieâs e-mail address. She thought getting the information would be easy. That writing and sending the actual e-mail would be difficult, followed up by the even more challenging wait to see whether Jamie replied.
âThings didnât end well between us at your weddingââ
âI know.â
âYou know?â No wonder Peter was acting like some sort of self-appointed bodyguard for Jamie. âWhat did he tell you?â
âNothing specific. We talked a few weeks ago and he said he was stupid to think that maybe you and he could start over againââ
Elisabeth jumped up, scattering papers across the top of her small dining room table, her heart rate increasing. âHe told you that?â
âYeah. He also told me that he was wrong.â
âPeter, please give me his e-mail address. I want to try to smooth things over with him if I can.â
âI donât know if thatâs wise, Elisabeth.â
âWhy?â
âBecause he deployed at the end of January. He doesnât need anybody messing with his headâor his heartâright now.â
Jamie was deployed. Where did the air force send chemical engineers? Was he someplace dangerous? Did engineers go anywhere like Iraq or Afghanistan nowadays?
âElisabeth, did I lose you?â
âIâm still here. Iâd forgotten Jamie mentioned he was getting deployed.â She took a deep breath as she paced the confines of her apartment, hoping she didnât sound like she was begging. âJamie would like to get some mail while heâs overseas, right?â
âLast I heard, Chloe was e-mailing him.â
Ouch. She deserved that. âOkay, then. See? Iâll just e-mail him like . . . like Chloe. And if he doesnât reply, I wonât e-mail him again.â
âI guess thatâs fair enough. But donât hassle the guy, okay? He needs to stay focused on the mission.â
âWhatâs he doing?â
âEven if I knew, I wouldnât be able to tell you.â
âPeter, heâs just a chemist!â
âDo you want his e-mail address or do you want to try to guess what the guyâs doing?â
âGood point.â Elisabeth settled back into the chair, gathering up the school papers and lowering her voice. âAnd I promise not to stress him out.â
Once she had Jamieâs e-mail address, it still took Elisabeth two days to finally sit down and compose a message to him.
Dear