Page 64 of James

The car ride to Laura's place was filled with an uncomfortable silence, both of them grappling with the weight of unspoken words and uncertain emotions. When they arrived, James insisted on carrying Laura's bag inside, his actions reflecting his desire to hold onto her, even if just for a little while longer.

Once inside, James pleaded with her once more. “Laura, if you don’t love me yet, that’s okay, but please don’t shut me out. We can keep seeing each other, can’t we?”

Imagining a mental shield, she took a deep breath and filled her voice with a gentle firmness. “No, James. I don’t want to break up with you, but I need some space right now. If you really love me, you’ll give me that.”

“All right, Laura. If this is what you want,” James said reluctantly. “Call me when you’re ready. I’ll be waiting. I will always be waiting.”

CHAPTER FORTY

The next week felt like an endless void for Laura. James's absence weighed heavily on her, leaving an empty space in her daily routine and a lingering sense of longing. Without him by her side, even the simplest tasks and activities lost their luster, and she found herself yearning for his comforting presence.

On Thursday, she laced up her running shoes and headed out for her usual jog. As she pounded the pavement, her steps lacked the usual rhythm and energy. She remembered how James used to join her on these runs, encouraging her every step of the way. She tried to focus on her breathing and the sound of her footsteps, pushing away the thoughts that threatened to bring tears to her eyes. The once-familiar routine seemed hollow without him by her side.

When she came to pick up the children the next Saturday, Suzie greeted her by the door with a cheerful, “Where’s James?”

Her sister’s innocent curiosity broke through the numb shell Laura had built around her, and her voicewavered slightly as she answered, "I don’t know, Suzie. It's complicated. Can we please not talk about it right now?" Her request carried a hint of vulnerability, a plea to avoid delving into the depths of her emotions and the complexities of her relationship with James.

Suzie placed her hands on her hips, rose to her full height of five feet-three-inches, and gave Laura their mother’s stern stare. “What’s going on? You two were practically living together before the business with Jake and now you don’t know where he is?”

“We’re taking a break from each other right now and I’d appreciate it if you’d leave the subject alone, please.” Laura’s throat constricted, a soreness building from the strain of her emotions. She fought back tears, the tightness in her chest making it difficult to breathe. Every word she spoke felt like a battle against the overwhelming turmoil within her.

“Okay, if that’s what you want –” Suzie softened her stance. “— but don’t make the mistake of leaving him alone for too long or you might lose him.”

Laura figured she dodged the bullet there, but reminders of James filled her days.

On Tuesday, when she came to see him alone, their father was even harder to put off. “What’s going on with James?” he asked.

It seemed like everyone and everything wanted her to remind her of him. “We’re taking a break from each other right now,” Laura said, hoping he would leave it at that.

“What do you mean, taking a break?” Laura's father asked. His eyebrows almost touched his receding hairline. “Did you break up? Why? He’s a great guy. He cares about you.”

“I’d rather not discuss it Dad,” Laura replied, frustrationbubbling inside like a pressure cooker. “Things got too serious, too fast. I need time to think about whether I can give him what he wants. Can we please drop it now?” In an obvious attempt to deflect, she asked, “How’s Beatrice?”

“She’s fine. It’s her bridge night.” Dan Turner waved a hand in the air. “What about James? That man is good to you and good for you. Everything about you changed when you two got together. You were brighter, stronger, and happier. Happier than I’ve seen you since before you were married to Jake.”

“Dad, this is between James and me,” Laura insisted. “I needed some space after Jake turned up and James is giving it to me. Can we please drop it now?”

“All right, I’ll drop it,” her father conceded, a hint of disappointment in his voice. “But I think you’re making a mistake. Men like James don’t grow on trees.”

“I know, Dad, I know.” She let out a weary sigh.

Awkwardly, he patted her hand. “Should I call him?” he asked.

“Da-ad!”

“All right, all right. I’ll drop it. But you’re not happy like this, babygirl, and I don’t like it.”

Laura steered the discussion to lighter topics and was relieved when it was time to leave, but her relief was short-lived.

Beatrice Shepherd was waiting for her when she came home from work on Wednesday. Before she could say anything, before she even knew which tone to take (she still found her rather intimidating), Mrs. Shepherd commanded, “Invite me in for tea.”

“I don’t have any tea.”

Mrs. Shepherd reached into her natty coat pocket and withdrew a fan of brightly-colored packets. “I brought some.”

So Laura heated up some water and Mrs. Shepherd walked her through the ‘correct’ process of tea-making, grumbling threats to buy her a proper kettle and service, and making her steep along with the tea leaves, waiting for the lecture to start. Her nerve broke first, and as Mrs. Shepherd took a testing sip, Laura said, “If this is about James, I really don’t want to hear it.”

Mrs. Shepherd gazed at her over the rim of her cup for a long moment, then swallowed and said, “And it has to be about James, eh? I don’t have enough of my own drama that I have to go stirring yours. I couldn’t possibly be here to ask you to be my maid of honor.”

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