A Winter Dream(57)

Even though they were open for New Year’s Eve, the diner was nearly empty. It was that slow hour—too late for lunch, too early for dinner. Everything looked the same as before. I sat down at a booth and picked up a menu, even though I already knew everything on it. Nothing had changed. Not even the daily special.

No, everything had changed.

“May I help you?” I looked up to see Ewa standing above me. “Hey, long time no see,” she said awkwardly as if she’d just learned the phrase.

“It’s good to see you, Ewa.”

“It is good to be seen,” she said. “How have you been?”

“Surviving,” I said.

“That is better than not.”

“Usually,” I said. I took a deep breath. “You haven’t heard from April, have you?”

She looked at me as if she didn’t understand my question. “Haven’t heard?”

“I mean, has she called?”

“Yes.”

“How is she?”

“She is okay, I think. She could be better, but okay.”

“Is she happy?”

Her brow furrowed. “That is a very difficult question to answer. Maybe you should ask her for yourself.” Ewa turned back toward the counter. I looked over. April was standing there, staring at me.

“April.” I jumped to my feet and walked to her, our eyes locked on each other. I couldn’t read her. I didn’t know what she was thinking.

We stood there, just inches from each other. Maybe miles. I wasn’t sure. “I never meant to lose you,” I said.

Tears began to well up in her eyes.

“I came back to find you . . . but you were gone. Then they sent me to New York.” I wanted to touch her—to throw my arms around her. “I never stopped thinking about you.” I just looked into her eyes, hoping she would say something. She didn’t. “Why did you leave?”

She wiped her eyes. “After what I told you, I thought you had left me. It was too much for me. You’re the first man I’ve ever truly chosen. At Christmas, I called Ewa to wish her Merry Christmas. She told me you had come for me. So I called, but your phone was turned off. So I came back. I went to your apartment . . .” She paused. “But you were gone.” She wiped her eyes. “I didn’t know a heart could break twice.”

“I’m so sorry.” My voice cracked. “I was so stupid. I scared you away.”

“You didn’t scare me away,” she said. “I needed to go back. I needed to take care of my past, so I could have a future.”

I stood there, still frozen, afraid to ask. “Am I a part of that future?”

She looked into my eyes with a peculiar light, then slowly shook her head. “No.”

My heart fell. “No?”

“Not just a part,” she said. “I was hoping you would be my future.”

She fell into me and we kissed. Passionately. Fully. This time there was no past to suppress, no secrets to steal her away, no guilt to own her. This time, for the first time, she was mine. I would never let her go again.





EPILOGUE


Life’s greatest lessons are often those we most wished to avoid.

Joseph Jacobson’s Diary





The day I graduated from college my father gave me this letter.

My Dear Son,

I am so very proud of you. Now, as you prepare to embark on a new journey, I’d like to share this one piece of advice. Always, always remember that—

Adversity is not a detour. It is part of the path.

You will encounter obstacles. You will make mistakes. Be grateful for both. Your obstacles and mistakes will be your greatest teachers. And the only way to not make mistakes in this life is to do nothing, which is the biggest mistake of all.

Your challenges, if you’ll let them, will become your greatest allies. Mountains can crush or raise you, depending on which side of the mountain you choose to stand on. All history bears out that the great, those who have changed the world, have all suffered great challenges. And, more times than not, it’s precisely those challenges that, in God’s time, lead to triumph.

Abhor victimhood. Denounce entitlement. Neither are gifts, rather cages to damn the soul. Everyone who has walked this earth is a victim of injustice. Everyone.

Most of all, do not be too quick to denounce your sufferings. The difficult road you are called to walk may, in fact, be your only path to success.

I’ve read that letter many times throughout my life. I never could have imagined how prophetic my father’s words would prove—especially the last line. Had it not been for the difficult circumstances I was thrown into, I never would have been in the position to ultimately save those I cared most deeply about. I never would have found my true soul. And I never would have found her. A philosopher once wrote that we “understand our lives looking backward, but we must live them forward.” He was right. Looking back, the journey all makes sense. At the time, none of it did.