Page 71 of Ten Years and Then…
He slit it open with a finger, pulled out the letter—two pages, surely that was a good sign?—unfolded it. He started reading aloud:
“Dear Mr. Keller, we are pleased …”
He wasn’t sure if he or Valerie shouted first. All he knew was that, suddenly, she was in his arms, and her lips were on his, and his on hers, and then, almost without transition, they were on his bed, and his shirt was unbuttoned down to his navel and her hands were working that very last button.
It had been almost two years since this had happened. Since he’d been with a girl. Since a girl had looked at him the way Valerie was right now, with desire. With … love?
Two years since Nora had looked at him that way, since they’d made love without ever looking away from each other.
No, not two years. Twenty-one months and thirteen days.
And if he could still count it like that, from memory, then his heart was still with her.
He took her hands, gently but firmly, and pulled them off of that last shirt button. Outside of breaking up with Nora, and maybe his freshman year calculus final, this was the most difficult thing he’d ever done.
“I can’t. I’m so sorry, Valerie. I want to—God, I can’t even tell you how badly I want to. You’re amazing. And beautiful. You helped me believe I could get the job. You didn’t just change my life, Valerie—you changed how I see myself. But …”
She was panting; it took her a moment to settle herself. “But what?”
He owed her the truth. Even if she would hate it. “There was—two years ago I broke up with her. She was—she was my first girlfriend. And I loved her. We were in love. But—the timing was wrong, and we were—too whatever. Or not whatever enough. We both knew it. The last day of the semester, my sophomore year, we broke up. And it’s all this time later …” He didn’t need to tell her he knew it to the exact number of days. She probably already figured that.
“All this time later, and you’re not over her. She must have been something.” She wasn’t angry. Why wasn’t she angry? He tried imagining how he’d feel in her place, and angry was the first thing that came to mind. “I wish you weren’t so—whatever you are.” She laughed, and there was a trace of bitterness in it—but only a trace. “But I don’t think I would have been interested in you if you weren’t. I understand. I don’t like it, and I’m going to need a cold shower when I get home. But I understand.”
She wasn’t looking away from him. And he saw in her eyes that she did understand.
“I—like I said, I’m sorry. You deserve somebody who’s totally with you. Their heart is completely yours. I wish it could be me, because you’re—seriously, whoever you do find is going to be the luckiest guy in the world.”
She reached over, started buttoning his shirt back up. “Right back at you. If you ever do get over that girl, you’ll make somebody a pretty fantastic boyfriend. But,” now she laughed again, without any bitterness at all. “This doesn’t get you out of helping me in the lab the rest of the semester. I’ve got a 20 page paper next week I’m going to need you to proofread.”
When she finished with his shirt, she got up and retrieved the letter from the floor, read it quickly, muttering approvingly to herself as she did. “And you’re going to need my help, too. Bring the letter to the lab tomorrow, and we’ll talk about negotiating their offer.” She waved it in front of his face. “This isn’t bad, but we can do better for you. Don’t call them or write them until I tell you what to say. Okay?”
He hugged her, held her for a couple of moments. “Okay. And thank you. For everything. I’m glad—even if I blew it with you,”—he nodded towards the bed—“I hope we’re still friends.”
“You bet we are, Daniel. It’s not that easy to get rid of me.”
Just like Nora.
Some people were with you forever.
Chapter 22
Spring Break 1991—Albion College/Manhattan, NY/Providence, RI
Nora, March 7
Nora was sitting in Addison Hall, Room 303 for Media Ethics and Law, but her mind was 160 miles away.
Specifically, in the workshop of Uncle Bruce’s jewelry shop back in Providence. She was picturing him working on the pendant she was sketching right now in her notebook. She could see the tiny pliers, the miniature torch and that curved, pronged thing she never remembered the name of.
He could do it. He could turn her design into reality—if she ever got it right. She’d been making sketches—and then tearing them up—for three days now. This had to be perfect. If it was going to embody everything she felt for Daniel, everything she hoped he still felt for her, everything she couldn’t put into words …
“Miss Langley?” Professor Morrison’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Is there something you’d like to share with the rest of the class?”
She could have—should have—mumbled an apology and sunk into her chair like a normal person. Any other day, if she’d been thinking about anything else, she probably would have.
“Sure.” She stood up, notebook in hand, and walked to the front of the room. She stood eye to eye with her teacher—well, eye to hairline; she was a good three inches taller than the man. She showed him what she’d been working on while he’d been lecturing. “I’m designing a necklace. For—for someone who’s really important to me.”
Professor Morrison blinked in confusion. “Did I hear you correctly? A necklace?” Nora heard chuckling—and sniggering—behind her. She didn’t care.
