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Carla placed her hands over her eyes. All this time they’d been fooling themselves to think that either of them could change.
“I think you’re right,” she whispered in a voice that was pitifully weak. “Good-bye, Philip.”
He started to say something, but Carla didn’t wait to listen. Very gently, very slowly, she replaced the receiver. She expected a flood of tears, but there were none—only a dry, aching pain that didn’t ease. In some ways, Carla doubted that it ever would.
Ten minutes later the phone rang again. Carla didn’t answer it, knowing it was Philip. The phone was silent for the remainder of the evening.
Carla found two messages on the kitchen counter when she returned home from work the following afternoon:
PHILIP PHONED.
CLIFF DID, TOO.
Carla returned Cliff’s call. They made arrangements to go to dinner Thursday night. Carla wasn’t particularly interested in continuing her non-relationship with Cliff. But not for the world would she let someone—anyone—accuse her of burying her head in the sand. That comment still hurt. Most girls should consider themselves lucky to be going out with Cliff. Obviously there was something about him she was missing. Thursday she’d make a determined effort to find out what it was.
—
Two days later, a letter arrived from Philip, and Carla silently cursed herself for the way her heart leaped. She managed to make it all the way into the apartment, hang up her sweater, and pour a cup of coffee before she ripped open the envelope.
Dearest Carla,
I promised myself I wouldn’t rush you, and then I do exactly that. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me? At least give me the chance to make it up to you.
Be patient with me, too, my love.
Philip
Carla read the letter twenty times nonstop. Never had any two people been more mismatched. Never had any two people been more wrong for each other. But right or wrong, Carla couldn’t ignore the fact that she’d never felt this strongly about a man. If this was what it meant to love, she hadn’t realized what a painful emotion it could be.
Dear Officer Garrison,
It’s been brought to my attention that two people who obviously care deeply for each other are making themselves miserable. One has a tendency to expect overnight changes, and the other’s got sand in her eyes from all those years of protecting her head. I’m writing to seek your advice on what can be done.
Carla
P.S. I’ll be more patient with you if you’re still willing to stick it out with me. P.P.S. I’ve got a date with Cliff Thursday night, but I promise not to go out with him again. Maybe I should cancel it.
Two days later, Carla got a phone call from Western Union.
“Telegram from Mr. Philip Garrison for Miss Carla Walker.”
She had never received a telegram before, and her heart leaped to her throat as she searched frantically for a pencil. “This is Carla. Will I need a piece of paper?”
“I don’t think so. There are only two words: ‘Break date.’ ”
Seven
Early Thursday evening, Carla rushed home from the hospital. “Did Philip call yet?” she asked breathlessly as she scurried inside the apartment.
Nancy looked up from her magazine, happiness lighting up her face. “Philip didn’t, but Eduardo did. He’s in Colorado on a business trip and wanted me to hop in the car and join him.”
“You’re joking.”
“No,” she countered, “I’m totally serious. Obviously he had no idea how far Seattle is from Denver. We did have a nice talk, though.”
From the look on her roommate’s face, Carla could see that the conversation with Eduardo had been satisfying. Fleetingly, she wondered where the relationship would go from here. It was obvious the two were strongly attracted to each other. For Eduardo to have swallowed his pride and contacted Nancy revealed how much he did care.
“So Philip hasn’t phoned?” Disappointment settled over Carla. Everything was going so well with Nancy that she couldn’t help feeling a small twinge of envy.
