Chapter 5

five

JACOB

Two months ago, if someone had told me I’d be sitting in a bar in the middle of Colorado, I’d have said you were crazy. But here I was and, what was even more surprising, I was enjoying myself.

It was easy to see why Andrew, Jonathon, Paul, and Elijah were friends. They shared a similar sense of humor, they finished each other’s sentences, and they genuinely cared about each other.

Shane easily slotted into their meandering thoughts, listening more than talking but still contributing.

I looked across the bar as a burst of laughter erupted from another booth. A pregnant woman laughed at something a friend said, then sat back in her chair, content to let the conversation carry on around her.

A sinking feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. I thought about the pregnant women in the camp where I worked, the dire living conditions that made it difficult to keep everyone safe and well, let alone raise a newborn baby.

“What was it like living in Afghanistan?”

I turned to Andrew and looked into his deep brown eyes. The words I told most people stuck in my throat. He hadn’t asked me the question out of politeness. I saw genuine interest, a curiosity about what was happening on the other side of the world.

“It’s difficult living in Kabul,” I told him. “Throughout Afghanistan, millions of people have lost their homes, their livelihoods, and their future because of the droughts and conflict. Sometimes, you feel as though you’re making a difference. Other days, you could be banging your head against a brick wall.”

“What are the biggest problems?”

“Poor sanitation, malnutrition, and infant mortality. The aid agencies are doing everything they can to help, but it’ll never be enough.”

Andrew frowned. “Why do you keep working in refugee camps? Wouldn’t it be less stressful to work in America?”

The answer to his question was as complicated as the conflict I’d left behind. “It would be less stressful, but I want to work where I’m needed the most. If a doctor leaves a camp, it has a huge impact on everyone.” There were more reasons I chose to stay, but sharing them had never been easy.

I looked across the table at Shane. I envied my friend’s ability to let go of the past, to create a future with the man he loved.

After ten years of giving everything to my job, I had nothing left for anyone, including myself.

A gentle nudge on my arm pulled my thoughts back to the table.

Andrew smiled. “You look like you’re a million miles away. I hope they’re happy thoughts.”

I forced a smile. “I discovered you’re the person who left the preserves and jams in my pantry. They’re amazing. I’d like to pay you?—”

“You don’t need to. When Jenny told me you’re working for Doctors Without Borders I wanted to do something for you and your guests. It’s the least I could do.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Is that what you do for a job or is it a hobby?”

Andrew’s grin made my heart pound. “Baking’s a hobby. I’m a photographer.”

My eyes widened. He didn’t look like any photographer I’d ever met—not that I’d met many. “Do you prefer landscapes or portraits?”

“Portraits, but I make more money taking photos of the wildlife and scenery around Colorado. Have you spent your entire career working in refugee camps?”

“You like to change the subject.”

A blush swept across his cheeks. “Your life’s probably a lot more interesting than mine.”

I tilted my head to the side. “Most people like talking about themselves.”

“Maybe I’m not like most people.”

A spark of something dangerously close to hope flared inside my chest. I studied the serious expression in Andrew’s eyes, the determined angle of his jaw. He pulled at the deepest, darkest part of my soul and made me wish for things I’d pushed aside to get through each day.

Jonathon leaned across the table. “Andrew isn’t like anyone you’ll ever meet. Did you know that he used to be a —”

“Jacob doesn’t want to hear about me. Why don’t you tell him about the cake Paul made for your wedding?”

Jonathon sent Andrew a searching glance before turning to me. “Paul creates the most incredible cakes I’ve ever seen. Our wedding cake’s four tiers of decadence decorated in vanilla buttercream icing and wafers of dark chocolate.”

“It sounds impressive.”

Jonathon took his cell phone out of his bag. “I’ll show you a picture.”

While Jonathon hunted through the photos on his phone, I watched Andrew. There was more to his life than he’d told me. And one day, I’d like to hear the full story.