Copyright 2005 by Elizabeth Delayne



Dorie drove passed the city limits before nine a.m. and sighed with relief when she saw the sign pointed to Steven’s university. It shamed her that in the four months of dating ... dating again, she had never been here ... had never reached out to him this far.

She was ashamed of herself. She’d held off, held back ... for what?

She gripped the steering wheel at ten and two, intentionally drove the speed limit, and kept her eyes forced open and on the road. She was tired. The weeks leading up to the weekend had been hard and rough—finishing the last of her classes, working as lead intern pulling together the trade show.

Steven had come down to surprise her, to lend an extra hand.

And it had backfired.

Her friends had started the questions all over again. When was he going to ask her to marry him? What were their plans? Why on earth was she planning to stick around after she graduated? Didn’t she know what Steven wanted ... what Steven planned ... what Steven thought?

She’d been so busy, wrapped up in details, wrapped up in her own fears.

And remembering, all to clearly, what had happened the last time she’d made plans for them, around the idea of them. Hadn’t it ripped her heart out? Hadn’t she learned that some boxes should be left closed ... until?

Until what?

The words replayed themselves over and over again in her mind as she drove north—not really sentences, but phrases, meanings.

I can’t do this.

What?

Had she really spoken allowed?

It’s just so ... overwhelming, Steven. We weren’t, then we were. It’s all screaming big commitment. I’m not ready. Don’t you see that? I’m not ready.

He’d stared at her, so stunned, as if—despite the fact that she had continued to hold back from him—she’d dealt him a blow he hadn’t seen coming. Didn’t he remember what it had felt like? Didn’t he remember having to put his dreams into place all over again?

That is, if he had dreamed of being with her ... of having their family. They’d both been so young.

I’m not ready.

For what?

For marriage. For forever.

Point of Information, Dorie. I’m not asking. Not yet.

You’re doing a lot of pushing.

Pushing? What, do I have to walk on eggshells with you? Watch what I say, what I do? Am I not allowed to plan into the next month?

Next month? That’s like planning a vacation. You came for a freaking job interview.

Fine. I can turn the internship down. It’s not a problem. If we have to work it out, we work it out—if there’s something worth working out.

But it wasn’t their only argument. He’d stepped back, let her do her job, let her finish out the night.

But the expectations, the anger, the disappointment ... remained in his eyes, unvoiced, but there.

I’m not ready for this.

What exactly?

Frustration—on his part, and hers. She hadn’t known how to tell them. How could she explain the gnawing knot in her stomach when she didn’t understand it?

You’re crowding me.

I’m trying to compromise.

Compromise isn’t trying to set your life up around another person.

Yeah. You’re right.

He’d stared long and hard at her, with sad ... so un-Steven like eyes.

What had she been thinking?

She hadn’t slept since he’d left the night before. He’d headed home for a long drive after a very tense weekend. Her fault. She could admit that—now. She’d finally given up on sleep and had climbed out of bed, left her roommates a note, and started the three hour drive to where Steven lived.

Where he went to school.

She could kick herself for making such a big deal out of it. She did miss him, terribly ... and couldn’t imagine continuing through next year with him so far away.

But she’d felt boxed in ... wasn’t that the point? He was talking about moving down, working out his own internship, then grad school. He was making plans, this time, around her.

Commitment.

She wasn’t ready for a commitment. They’d had it ... or the semblance of it before, in high school. Of course, he’d said recently that they’d been moving in different directions—but she hadn’t. She’d been the one with the goals and the dreams of a shared future. She’d planned her life around his.

Until the last moment when he broke things off, switched schools, and moved out of her life.

She’d picked up her dreams, concentrated on her own life, and promised herself she would never do that again. And now, wasn’t that what he was doing? Wasn’t that what he was asking her to do?

Oh, God ... how do I know this time?

At the stoplight, she picked up the print out that explained directions to his rented house.

* * *

Steven got out of his SUV and looked back to the street where Dorie’s car sat at the curb. He drew in a deep breath and tossed his keys lightly in his hand. It gave him hope that she’d followed him down.

It wouldn’t have been easy on her.

But it hadn’t been easy on him, either. She’d kept her distance from him since they started dating again. He’d felt it, hoped that the could cross over it ... hoped that it was just the distance.

He headed to the house with his Bible tucked under his arm, and loosened his tie. He looked at the peeling shutters and wondered what she thought, compared to her own stylish apartment. It was old, but it was a rental. They took good care of the yard to keep the cost down.

He reached for the door, found it locked, and used his key.

When he stepped in, he saw her asleep on the sofa. She looked ... exhausted. He’d forgotten how tired she’d looked, how tired she’d sounded. He thought his presence would help her, instead it suffocated her.

That didn’t bode well for a relationship.

God?

He didn’t have answers. He didn’t have certainty. He only knew that he was deeply attracted to her all over again.

He walked over, picked up his roommate’s blanket and spread it over her. She didn’t move. He reached out, traced her cheek bone with his finger, brushed her dark brown hair out of the way.

She was so beautiful.

And so very tired.

How long had she been here? She looked as if she’d been asleep for awhile. If his roommate had let her in, that would mean that she’d gotten here just before ten ... which meant she would have left her apartment before seven.

As tired as she’d been.

Steven sighed. She shouldn’t have been on the road, but here she was. For what reason?

Feeling the answers stirring, he left her sleeping on the couch and headed into the kitchen to fix them both something to eat.

* * *

Dorie awoke groggy and blinked against the light as she woke. She sounds, the smell ... the feel was different.

She was at Steven’s.

She stared across the room to th typical male set up—entertainment center with TV, DVD player, cable and at least two game consoles. The games that had been scattered around earlier were now put away. The glasses that had been left in different places around the room were gone. The half dozen frames of friends and family—some, of which, had been of Steven—had been straightened.

And Steven lay reclining in the ancient and faded blue easy chair.

She pushed back the afghan she’d only dimly remembered noticing laying on the floor not far away, and sat up. She felt better.

He blinked open his eyes, and suddenly he was looking at her ... so intense.

So very familiar.

“So, you finally decide to wake up.”

She shrugged as her dimples appeared, though she could feel that familiar shield rise up between them. “I was tired.”

“I know.” He pushed out of the chair and crossed over to her, dropping down on one knee in front of her. “I’m sorry I added to your stress this weekend.”

Dorie closed her eyes in relief. Maybe it wasn’t over.

But she owed him more than that.

“Steven, I—“ she opened her eyes and reached out her hands. She watched as his closed over hers. “I haven’t made it easy on you, these last few months. I don’t think I’ve been honest with you.”

“Dorie—“

”No, Steven, it’s not about now, it’s about before...” she looked at him. “I don’t think you realize how much you hurt me when you broke things off in high school. It was the right thing, but I ... I must have had more invested in what I thought we had ... then what you had invested in me.”

“Dorie...”

“I wanted so much what we had together to last. I wanted the house and the family. I could see what our children would look like, what it would be like to work on the lawn together, or cook dinner at night. I didn’t even see myself with a job, just as a wife. And now ...” she shrugged. “I see myself as more. It isn’t easy to combine the pictures, the ... who we were, with who I am now.”

He stared at her for a long time, his eyes studying hers, his hands holding on. “Dorie, I always saw more for you then that. You were brilliant, dedicated, passionate ... so able to see things in so many different directions. When I was watching you this weekend, I was thankful...so very thankful that you’d had the chance to spread your wings. You were a natural juggling all those details.”

“I don’t even remember half of them,” she grinned woefully, “except us arguing.”

“I put too much on you.”

“You didn’t do anything. You were trying to take the steps ... and I automatically thought you were taking a leap.”

“It was the wrong weekend.”

“But you didn’t think it was a big deal. It shouldn’t have been a big deal. You arranged to handle things so that you would be here on an important weekend for me ... I know you were just trying to make it work, and you’d thought you’d lend a hand at the same time.” She released his hands and paced to the other side of the room. “Steven I—I don’t want to loose you, but I’m afraid to ... leap again.”

“It isn’t a leap to think that I want to work things out, is it, to be with you the rest of our lives?”

She turned around, looked at him. “I don’t understand, Steven. I’m not afraid of you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Come here,” he stood slowly and held out his arms.

She stared at him, unable to move.

“Dorie, do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

Her first step was tenuous, at best, but then the next few were easier. She nearly fell into his arms.

He held her and she leaned into him, breathed him in.

“Dorie, what do you feel right now?”

“Right now?”

“Right now. Right this moment.”

She closed her eyes, absorbed his scent, and knew she had unconsciously relaxed. “Right. Just right.”

“Do you want to be with me? Just think—just for tomorrow and the day after that.”

She tried to picture it and saw it all, as easily as she had years before. It had been dangerous to let those dreams have so much control over her heart. She could still picture it all—and wasn’t that what she was afraid of?

“Steven, I want to be with you a hundred years from now.”

He stared at her, his dark eyes so full of emotion—but this time she couldn’t look away.

“Then maybe one day we’ll talk about marriage. Maybe one day I’ll ask you.” He leaned back and looked into her eyes, cradling her face between his hands. “But not until we’re both ready. Okay?”

He gave her a moment, sought out her eyes.

She smiled, though she could see in his eyes that it wasn’t easy on him. And still, he was willing. And the willingness swept over her like a vibrant wave of hope. “Okay.”

He stepped back, let his hands slide down her arms until he took her hands in his own. He just looked at her. “I don’t know how to say this without it sounding high-handed and bossy, but don’t make a drive like that when you’re as tired as you were ... and I’ll promise not to do the same thing. We can’t let the distance be a problem in any way.”

“I had messed things up so badly.”

“I wasn’t about to let you go.”

”There was part of me that hoped you would ... and that part scared me just as much as when you left so upset, knowing you were tired, knowing you were driving. I might not want to feel this way, I might be afraid ... but I don’t want to feel this way without you.”

He brushed at a tendril of her hair with their hands still joined. His gaze was achingly tender. “ I shouldn’t have left. Not with things that way between us.”

“Not upset ... if something had happened,” she drew in a breath. “And if you hadn’t, I might not of realized that the corner I felt backed into was one of my own making.”

“I’m sorry that I hurt you. Back in high school.”

“And I’m sorry I put more on you then you were ready for.”

He smiled gently and he leaned down to gently kiss her. Her hands flexed in his and held on even as he stepped back. “Then we’re even. I fixed us something to eat, hours ago. You hungry?”

“Starving.”

He let go of her hands and headed for the kitchen. He was so handsome and steady. So there, willing to see to her needs. Worried about her, wishing for their future.

So much a part of her, she ached.

She pressed her hands to her eyes and steadied herself. She was strong, she knew where she wanted to go, what she could accomplish—not just to be with him, but to walk with him, and to find a place to go together.

And she knew in her heart, that even though she wasn’t ready to talk marriage, to open a box of dreams and hopes ... she knew it just might be soon. HEY! and don't forget to e-mail me if you have a comment!





Return to Dorie's Story

Cybergrace Banner Exchange 2000