You Can't Hurry Love by Beth K. Vogt Page B

let him write back. I don’t know why I’m doing this, except that I told Tori I would . . . and I feel like I’m supposed to.
    It wasn’t much of a prayer, but it was all she could muster.
    Dear Jamie,
    Yep, it’s me again. I hope you’re doing well over there—wherever “there” is. I’ve been praying for you to stay healthy and encouraged and that God would give you what you need. Even though I don’t know what that is, I figure he does.
    If you have any spare time, I’d love to hear how you’re doing. I’m going to visit Bellamy this summer. Looking forward to that. We’re already talking about our ten-year high school reunion coming up. Can you believe that?
    If you’d rather not hear from me again, just don’t answer this e-mail. I’ll get the hint and won’t e-mail you anymore. But I’ll keep praying for you.
    Elisabeth
    She pushed Send, closing her laptop and setting it aside, blinking away the tears that filled her eyes. There was no sense in crying over a stupid e-mail that Jamie Travers was probably going to delete without reading. And even if he did read it, her message probably wouldn’t change anything between them. Crying wouldn’t change anything, either—and she’d only fall asleep with a headache.
    â€¢ • •
    Jamie didn’t know which surprised him more—Elisabeth’s first e-mail or the second one that had showed up in his inbox two days ago.
    He hadn’t replied to Elisabeth’s initial communication, leaving it sitting in his inbox after reading it once, refusing to give in to the temptation to read it again.
    And now she’d contacted him again. All he had to do was ignore this second e-mail and she’d leave him alone. Never bother him again.
    Except in his head.
    What was the big deal, anyway? Maybe somehow he’d been tripped up by the romance of Peter and Tori’s wedding—seeing his friend find the woman who completed him. It wasn’t as if he had any foolish ideas of falling in love with Elisabeth again.
    But ever since Elisabeth’s e-mail had shown up in February, something had bothered him. At first, thoughts of her tried to shadow him all through the day, when he needed to be concentrating on the tasks required by Uncle Sam—duties that could mean the difference between life and death for military troops. So he’d disciplined himself not to think of her. He was deployed overseas and he had a job to do.
    But at night when he could relax—even just a little—thoughts of their last interaction rankled, like a thorn hidden underneath his skin. Unseen, but painful when touched.
    The thought of her kissing another guy when they were dating no longer burned. Why should it when it was all so long ago? They’d hardly been more than kids. And if he’d been honest with her—with himself—he would have to admit he’d noticed some of the female cadets at the Academy. Had even flirted with them. No harm done, right?
    But what if Elisabeth had walked in on him at one of those “no harm done” moments? How would she have reacted when she saw him with his arm around another girl’s shoulders? And what about the one cadet—what was her name?—who’d been surprised to find out that he had a girlfriend back home?
    Even acknowledging those mistakes didn’t ease the pain. So what was it? In the darkness of the night, he mentally pressed harder into the lurking questions . . . and realized he hadn’t given Elisabeth the very thing he’d asked for from her when he’d talked about their breakup. All these years later, he wanted her forgiveness for sending her the letter with all those cruel comments.
    But when she’d confessed her struggles, had he given her the same? No. He’d responded out of hurt and anger—as if it had all just happened—and walked away from her.
    Dear