You Can't Hurry Love by Beth K. Vogt

start praying now. Remember, God promises that he’s near us no matter what.”
    â€œCan you pray I feel that? I know it . . . I just feel so alone right now.”

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 shouldn’t have gone searching for her high school yearbooks when she’d been home for Christmas, telling her mom it was just because her ten-year reunion was coming up in the New Year—and 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.
    â€œYou want what?” Peter almost shouted the question at her through the phone line.
    â€œJamie Travers’s e-mail address.” Elisabeth ignored the pile of essays waiting to be graded. “I thought about calling him, but I think an e-mail might be a better first step.”
    â€œFirst step to what?”
    â€œSaying hello. Come on, Peter, I just want to e-mail him. Ask how he’s doing. And if he e-mails me back, then we can start a conversation.”
    â€œWhy?”
    She hadn’t expected Tori’s husband to grill her like some TV detective when she asked him for Jamie’s 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.
    â€œThings didn’t end well between us at your wedding—”
    â€œI know.”
    â€œYou know?” No wonder Peter was acting like some sort of self-appointed bodyguard for Jamie. “What did he tell you?”
    â€œNothing specific. We talked a few weeks ago and he said he was stupid to think that maybe you and he could start over again—”
    Elisabeth jumped up, scattering papers across the top of her small dining room table, her heart rate increasing. “He told you that?”
    â€œYeah. He also told me that he was wrong.”
    â€œPeter, please give me his e-mail address. I want to try to smooth things over with him if I can.”
    â€œI don’t know if that’s wise, Elisabeth.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause he deployed at the end of January. He doesn’t need anybody messing with his head—or his heart—right now.”
    Jamie was deployed. Where did the air force send chemical engineers? Was he someplace dangerous? Did engineers go anywhere like Iraq or Afghanistan nowadays?
    â€œElisabeth, did I lose you?”
    â€œI’m still here. I’d forgotten Jamie mentioned he was getting deployed.” She took a deep breath as she paced the confines of her apartment, hoping she didn’t sound like she was begging. “Jamie would like to get some mail while he’s overseas, right?”
    â€œLast I heard, Chloe was e-mailing him.”
    Ouch. She deserved that. “Okay, then. See? I’ll just e-mail him like . . . like Chloe. And if he doesn’t reply, I won’t e-mail him again.”
    â€œI guess that’s fair enough. But don’t hassle the guy, okay? He needs to stay focused on the mission.”
    â€œWhat’s he doing?”
    â€œEven if I knew, I wouldn’t be able to tell you.”
    â€œPeter, he’s just a chemist!”
    â€œDo you want his e-mail address or do you want to try to guess what the guy’s doing?”
    â€œGood point.” Elisabeth settled back into the chair, gathering up the school papers and lowering her voice. “And I promise not to stress him out.”
    Once she had Jamie’s e-mail address, it still took Elisabeth two days to finally sit down and compose a message to him.
    Dear