Chapter 71 Jess - Bound
seventy-one
Jess: Bound
Ikeep listening for his car, checking the window.
Two steel-gray envelopes hide in my top drawer, taunting me. I haven't turned them over to the lawyer yet.
"Michael" has called a couple more times, always with the same message: Tell Jess I'm thinking of her.
But it can't be Michael. I haven’t talked to him in months, and he's still in Korea.
I've been trying to figure out how to tell Jacob about the messages I’ve gotten from Brad.
It's probably something we should figure out together, but Jacob is already stressed about something else.
I hear it in his voice whenever we talk.
He told me he got the promotion, so not that.
I'm guessing it's because he knows he's being transferred and he's not sure how to tell me.
I'm hoping it's because he has something planned, that there's something he wants to ask me.
If not, I'm prepared to ask him. Tradition be damned.
I'm going to ask Jacob to marry me. If he says yes, we can get married as soon as possible.
If I have to finish my last semester at another college, or wait until we're back.
it's okay. I’m ready to stop doing the distance thing and just be with him.
The sooner, the better. I've never cared about a big wedding like Kendra.
Something simple, maybe in the barn or my backyard—sweet and romantic, just our family and close friends.
We can be far away by the time Brad gets out of jail. More importantly, we can stay together.
I don't know what I'll do if he says no.
His car pulls up out front. I stand at the window, waiting. He stays in the car for what seems like forever. He leans over, as if he’s putting something in the glove compartment, and finally gets out.
I don’t give him a chance to knock. I open the door, jump into his arms, and wrap my legs around his waist. I'm kissing him before he can even say my name.
He carries me to the couch. Then pulls away, looking at my empty apartment. “Where is everyone?”
“Out. They won't be back for hours.” I lean in to continue what I started.
He pulls away. "That's good. We have a lot to talk about."
"Talk?" I tease him. "My apartment is completely empty; we're finally alone, and you want to talk?"
"Yeah." His face twists like he's in pain.
I slide off his lap. "Are you okay?"
He reaches for my hand. "There's something I need to tell you."
I hate to see him so worried, so I jump in. “I know about your transfer."
“You know?” Relief floods his face. "And you're okay with it?"
"On one condition." I lean into his ear. "Take me with you."
He looks confused. “Jess, you can’t go with me.”
“I could if we were—” I stop, and look down, embarrassed. Obviously, he hasn't been thinking about the same thing I have. I feel foolish, like a little girl again, begging for his attention and jumping to a place he’s not ready to go.
"If we were…married," he finishes after the long, painful pause it takes for him to figure out what I mean.
I nod.
He laughs, but there's something guarded about it. "I'm not sure if I should take that as a proposal or an acceptance, since I didn’t get the chance to ask."
I can't tell if he's serious or so caught off guard he doesn't know how to respond. I work to keep my voice light. "We could call it both, or…"
He nods, and now I'm wondering if that's his answer. None of this is going the way I thought it would. He's holding something back. “Who told you I was leaving?”
“Becky. She said your entire unit is going to Germany.”
A shadow passes over his face. “She was wrong. Not everyone is going.”
“So you’re staying?” The thought gives me hope and terrifies me at the same time. I won't have to say goodbye. We won't have to rush into anything, but I'll have to tell him about the messages Brad has been sending me. I probably should have told him a long time ago.
"No." He rubs his thumb across the back of my hand. "I’m not going to Germany, and I’m not staying. My promotion came with a transfer. I’m joining a unit at Fort Bragg.”
“Fort Bragg, isn’t that in North Carolina, near your parents? Your mom will be happy." I force enthusiasm into my voice because I still don't know what he's thinking. "I could see if I can finish my last term there and then we—"
“I won’t be at Fort Bragg very long.”
He sounds so serious that I’m afraid to ask, but I do. "Why not?"
“The unit I’m joining is deploying to Iraq six weeks after I get there. I’m going too.”
I pull my hand from his and cover my mouth.
“No.” I shake my head. “No.” I stand and stumble a couple of steps away from him.
I can't process what he just said. I can’t let him go.
I can’t lose him. I lean my head against the wall and close my eyes.
He comes behind me. I turn and wrap my arms around him.
He kisses my forehead, and I lean against his chest, my tears soaking into his T-shirt.
"I'm sorry. I should have warned you this was a possibility. I know guys who are already on their third tour in Iraq.” He leans back so I’m looking in his eyes.
There’s a fire there that I haven’t seen for a long time.
He cups my chin. "Marry me, Jess. Before I go or after I get back, it doesn't matter.
I just want to be with you. I just want you to be mine. "
I step out of his arms. "No." There's more strength behind the word than I thought I had left.
He looks thunderstruck. "No? You don't want to marry me?"
"No. I don't want you to go to Iraq. I just got you back. I don’t want to spend the next year waiting and worrying.”
He puts his hands on my shoulders. "It will be okay. It's only a year, and things have settled down some. Iraq isn't as dangerous as it once was."
My heart clenches in fear, anger rises in my chest and comes out in my voice. “Do people still die there? Can you guarantee that you'll be coming back?"
“No. But you can’t guarantee that you won’t get hit by a bus tomorrow.”
I step away from him, wanting to protect myself, wanting to push him away. “You’re right. There are no guarantees. So we shouldn’t make promises we can’t keep.”
He closes his eyes. “Jess, don’t do this. You’re upset. We both are. We should–”
“No.” It comes out with more force than the first time. “They can’t make you go again. Tell them you won’t go.”
His voice is calm, but with an undercurrent of irritation. “I don’t have a choice, you know that."
"You do have a choice. You're not a slave to the Army. Michael didn't have to go to Iraq."
His name makes Jacob's lips tighten. "I'm not Lieutenant Stephens."
I know I'm pushing it, but I can't stop myself. "Your brother was killed in Iraq. Isn't there some Saving Private Ryan clause you can invoke? We could go to the media, ask them to—"
"No." His no is even more forceful than mine was. I step back. His voice is full of a conviction I’ve never seen before. "I took an oath. I gave my word. I'm not going back on that."
I ask the question I know isn’t fair. "Not even for me?”
He shakes his head. "No. And that you're even asking me…that you ever thought I would… shows me you don't know me at all."
Too late, I realize I pushed him too far.
“You knew who I was when we got together. You knew how important this is to me. You knew, Jess. Don’t act like any of this is a surprise. If you want me, really want me, then you have to take everything I am and that means accepting that I’m a soldier first.”
I shake my head. I can’t accept that. I can’t let him go for another year, knowing he might not be coming back. “It was just a dream, wasn’t it? I loved you, and you loved me. We were together, and we thought we could live happily ever after, but that’s not how the world works, is it?”
His righteous indignation dissipates. It’s replaced with a kind of anguished resolution.
“You’re right. This won't work. I can’t go back on my word, not for you, not for anyone.
I love you with everything I have, but that’s never going to be enough for you.
I can’t give you what you want. I’ve already given too much of myself to the Army. ”
My chest hurts. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying maybe it’s time to admit defeat. I can’t make you happy. I can’t be the man you want me to be. I should step aside and let someone else try.”
I stare at him for a long time, afraid to move, afraid to say anything. The muscles in his jaw work, but the rest of his face could be made of stone. I pushed him too far. This is really over. I take the earrings out of my ears and press them into his hand.
“I’m sorry, Jacob.” A sob rises in my throat without my permission. I turn away so he doesn’t have to see my tears.
Part of me wants to take back everything I said and beg him for forgiveness, but I know he’s right. I’m not strong enough to be the woman he needs. I’m not strong enough to be a warrior’s wife.
“I’m sorry too,” he says. He slides the earrings into the bag he came with and walks out the door.