“But I didn’t mean it,” I choke out, feeling a little panicked. “I thought I had no choice. I was afraid.”
“You always have a choice,” he says calmly. “The first time you said no, I understood. We were young. You were choosing a different life. That was your right, and you took it. Even though it broke my heart, it was your choice to make. But this timearound…you were running away from something that could have been good, could have been great. So tell me, Emmie, why should I trust you now? What’s to say you won’t change your mind in a few weeks or months? How can I trust you won’t be fickle? Because I’m not, Emmie. My feelings haven’t changed. I’d need to know the same about you before I could ever trust you with my heart.”
Somehow his words give me hope. He said “could,” which means all is not lost.
“Jakob, I’m not a fickle person,” I tell him, desperate to make him understand. “I’m dependable. I keep my word. You know me. You know I’m not wishy-washy.” It’s one of the core parts of my identity. Emmie Wynne is a responsible and steady human being. “I just got scared…and confused.” I lick my dry lips and taste the last of the sprinkles. I can feel my skin starting to pink in the glare of the sun the longer we sit here bobbing on the water. I’m desperate for him to understand how I feel, free from the constraints of the vision, how liberated I am now to choose my own path.
How can I make him understand that it was a misplaced sense of responsibility, a sense of obligation that was holding me back from what I really want? Him. Us. I feel panicky. I can’t lose him, not when I have finally given myself permission to see what the future might hold for us. Not when I’ve finally been brave enough to admit it.
He shrugs. “I’m not sure how to risk my heart again with you, Emmie,” he says, and there’s a note of regret and a fine thread of anger in his voice. Crushed, I nod. I don’t blame him. I would feel leery to trust me too. It’s ironic that when I finally get the courage to take the reins of my life, I find that I can’t have what I really want.
“I’m so sorry I hurt you, Jakob,” I tell him sincerely. “I knowmy confusion cost you a lot. I don’t expect anything from you, but please know that my feelings are real and they’re not going to change. And if you ever have a change of heart, I’d love to see what we could be together.”
I want to argue with him, convince him, but it is his choice. I have rejected him and hurt him, and now I’m trying my best to make amends, but he gets to decide what he’ll do. I make my choices and he makes his, and we both have to live with that reality. Jakob doesn’t say anything, just nods shortly. He wiggles his paddle free of my deck lines and we drift apart a little.
“Is it really over between you and Henry?” he asks abruptly.
“I broke the news to him this morning,” I confirm. “We’re friends. Nothing more. Honestly, it was never anything more than that. My heart wasn’t in it,” I tell him frankly.
He looks at me long and hard, his expression unreadable. “I need to go,” he says finally.
Just in time I remember the bakery bag.
“Here, wait. I got you something.” I paddle a few strokes and pull up flush with his kayak. I want to leap over the side and nestle down on his lap and put my head on his shoulder and have him wrap his strong arms around me and tell me I have another chance. Instead I hand him the bag. I almost drop it in the water, but he grabs it. Marine-quick reflexes.
“What’s this?” he asks.
“Open it and see,” I tell him.
He opens the bag and peers inside. “You brought me your favorite flavor of Danish?” he asks in bewilderment. Then, “Is this a Danish I made?” and “Why are there gold sprinkles all over it?”
“The sprinkles are a long story. I’ll tell you another time.” I wave a hand impatiently. “Yes, it’s a raspberry Danish you made. Yes, it’s my favorite flavor, but it’s not just my favorite flavor,” Itell him, looking at him steadily. “It’s yours too. All those debate study sessions, you always gave me the raspberry Danishes and took the cheese ones for yourself. You don’t even like cheese. You’re a little lactose intolerant. I know you, Jakob Kristensen, your kind heart and selflessness and quiet care. I hope someday I get the chance to care for you the way you’ve always cared for me. I want to, and I hope I can earn back your trust so I can show you how much I care for you, how much I love you.”
Jakob stares at me over the bag for a long moment. I can’t see his eyes, but I feel that icy-blue gaze boring into me. I wait for him to reply but he doesn’t say anything. He seems to be struggling within himself.
“I have to get back,” he says finally. “Tell Walt I’ll be in a little late today.” He tucks the Danish under his kayak seat where I’m betting it will get soggy with seawater.
I swallow my disappointment and nod. “Okay.”
Then I watch him paddle swiftly away, the defined muscles in his arms flexing with every powerful stroke. He does not turn as he heads back to the marina, slicing through the water with deep strokes. I follow behind at a slower pace, puffing and wincing. My arms are going to be so sore tomorrow.
I make it back to the marina in roughly double the time it takes Jakob. I’m disappointed by how our conversation ended, though not surprised. Jakob is loyal to a fault, but if you hurt him, he finds it hard to trust again. I don’t know what he’ll decide, but I’ve done my best to be brave and honest and make amends. Now it’s up to Jakob to decide what he wants to do. I don’t expect an answer anytime soon. I’ll give him all the time he needs. He doesn’t owe me anything, and it makes sense that he’d be hesitant. If I were him, I would be leery too. The best thing I can do is show him I’m a woman of my word. I need to keep writing myown list, keep making my own way. I need to prove to him and to myself that I am at the helm of my own life, that I stand by my choices, that I am living honestly and purposefully according to my values.
Back on the dock, I pull my purse from the dry compartment of the kayak and find the list and a pen. I scribble another item on the bottom of the list. There is no sign of Jakob. It looks like he already put his kayak back on the rack and left. Clearly he needs space. I see the empty bakery bag sticking out of the trash can and my heart gives an absurd little bump of hope. He ate the Danish. Somehow I think that is a good sign.
I focus on my list, on what I just wrote, on what I know I need to do next.
To-Do List
•Henry + Emmie fall in love
• Chocolate shop—need more $ and a name!!!
•Yellowdressthe right yellow dress thatfits!
•Engagementring + proposal
• Jakob?
