Alie Pleiter - Getting to Yes

7/31/2019 Alie Pleiter - Getting to Yes

1/21

Allie Pleiter

I have faith. Adam is the man God picked for me, I just know it. And I just know that when Adamfinally pops the question, we'll get married and live happily ever after. I say "when" because I'm an

optimist. And because I believe that God is a mighty God even mightier than Adam's paralyzing fear of

commitment!
http://www.eharlequin.com/author.html?authorid=1188http://www.eharlequin.com/author.html?authorid=1188


2/21

Chapter One

The silky ballad fades into my show's theme music.

"And that does it for me today. I'm your host, Suzann White, and I'll see you right here bright and

early Monday morning on WRXR, your prescription for light rock at 102.9 FM. Until then, make your day agreat one."

Your prescription for light rock. Trust me, I didn't write that one. Since this is L.A., a city where

people really utilize their pharmaceuticals, evidently the guys in marketing thought it might stick. It did, so

who am I to argue? I bet it sounded clever the first time.

Try saying it twenty times a day for four years, and you can see where it might wear on a soul. I

balked when someone suggested we ought to hand out little promotional pill boxes. I thought that was

pushing it (pun intended). Well, I tried not to hold it against management when they did it anyway.

I pull my headphones off and exhale. It's harder than you think voicing a sunny disposition from six

to ten a.m. everyday. There's only so much perkiness coffee and protein shakes can give you've got to

manufacture the rest. Sure, there are days when I want to go around sticking my tongue out at the world

after four hours of on-air cheeriness. I'm only human. But for the most part, my job's pretty wonderful.

Today, though, I can't wait to get off the air. It's Friday, and my weekend starts at 12:01 p.m. Off

the air at 10:00 a.m., two hours in the office, and I'm a free woman until the dastardly hour of 4:00 a.m.

Monday morning. Forget late-night TV I'm yawning by 8:00 p.m.

Good thing Adam's a morning person. It takes a special guy to date someone who can't stay out

much later than your average twelve-year-old. And Adam is one special guy. He even got up to drive me

to work the week my car was in the shop.

Okay, he loanedme his car after the second day, but it's the thought that counts. He still had to pay

for a cab to get his own adorable self to work for the rest of the week.

When we get married, I'm going to invest in one of those vibrating alarm clocks that fits inside yourpillow so that I can get up and still let him sleep in.

I say "when we get married" because I am an optimist. And because we've been dating seriously

for almost a year now. And because I believe Adam's the guy God's got picked out for me. And because

God is a mighty God, mightier than even Adam's near-psychotic fear of commitment.

And because we're going out to a fancy dinner for our one-year anniversary tonight. I may even

stay out past nine to celebrate.

Ifhe pops the question. Question is, how big an "if" is that?


3/21

Chapter Two

"So do you think he'll propose?" my friend Lindy asks over iced teas after work. She voices an

animated television character, so she gets off work in the middle of the day, too. I just found the most

perfect pair of shoes to go with the dress I'm planning to wear tonight. And, I just happenedto get my nails

done this afternoon. Really.

Yeah, well, Lindy didn't believe that, either. Hey, a smart gal prepares. If I'm going to be thrusting

my left hand under people's noses all weekend, it's only fitting that my nails be nice. "If he has any sense

of timing at all," I reply, "this weekend would be the perfect time."

Lindy, whose picture should be in the dictionary under the words "control freak," gives me the look I

know far too well. That you're-looking-on-the-bright-side-when-you-should-be-worrying look. "You have

been ring shopping together, haven't you?" she inquires in a low, suspicious voice.

Ring shopping is for control freaks like Lindy. I trust Adam's good taste. The guy has a natural

sense of style. Sure, I augment it occasionally, but that kind of collaboration is what will make us a great

couple. I am 100% certain I will not be standing in my bedroom three years from now looking at Adam and

saying, "You're not really going to wear that, are you?"

"I've pointed out rings that I like," I reply. "He gave me a gorgeous bracelet for Christmas. Adam

knows his hardware, trust me. I predict a classic Tiffany setting in platinum."

We joke about it, Lindy and I, but the truth is that if Adam asked me with a plastic ring from abubble-gum machine, I'd say yes. I'm so in love with this man it hurts. I can see our children when I close

my eyes. I can see the kind of man he'll be in twenty-five years and I want to be there so badly it takes my

breath away. When I look at him, I see the person I've prayed about since I was fifteen years old. I see

God's perfect mate for me.

"You're doing it again." Lindy waves her hands in front of my face.

"What?"

"You went to that dreamy married place again. Honestly, Suz." She mimes a phone next to her ear.

"Propose, Adam, and put the poor girl out of her misery."

I sigh. "Oh, from your mouth to God's ears," I quote my grandmother's favorite phrase. "Get on

your knees tonight for me, Lindy. Adam's going to need your prayers to propose, or I'm going to need your

prayers if he doesn't."

After Lindy and I say goodbye, I walk home, still in my "dreamy married place." I want so much for

tonight to be special that I'm afraid I'll mess it up with all my expectations. I'm walking down my block,

praying over the evening with each step, when I'm shocked out of my stupor by the sight of my dreamy

soon-to-be-fianc sitting on my front steps.

Looking awful.


4/21

Chapter Three

"Adam?"

"Oh," he says, almost distractedly, as if I'd been here for a while and hadn't just walked up to find

him slumped on my front steps. "Hi."

"Adam, it's three o'clock in the afternoon. I know we're having dinner tonight, but why aren't you at

work?" He looks like something horrible has just happened. I sit down beside him. "Honey, what's wrong?"

"Jacob."

Jacob is Adam's boss at the public relations firm where Adam works. Jacob's generally a nice guy,

but a bit of a soap opera. Loves emergencies. Works best in crisis mode. That kind. I've had many dates

go up in smoke because Jacob concocted a crisis at 4:30 p.m. I'm trying not to be bitter here, but if thisguy ruins tonight it'll take three months of prayer to get me to forgiveness mode. Maybe four. "What'd

Jacob do now?"

"Actually, it's not Jacob that did the doing. It's sort of what got done to Jacob."

I'm just going to pretend like I understood that. "What happened?"

Adam looks at me, very serious. "His wife left him."

"Huh?" Not good. Definitely not good.

"Barb came into the office this afternoon, ranting and raving. She called him all kinds of names in

front of everyone. Nobody knew what to do. Then she threw a suitcase at him and told him not to come

home. That she was leaving for the Virgin Islands for the next few days, and that she'd had the locks

changed on their house this morning. She told him he'd have to call her lawyer to let him in, and that he

was to have his things cleared out by the time she got back. Man, it was ugly."

It does not matter that you could barely place Adam and Jacob in the same male species. It doesn'tmatter one bit that I am nothing nothinglike this Barb woman. You can just see it in Adam's eyes. In his

mind right now, this is how marriage ends. Public humiliation, predatory lawyers and ugliness. He's got

reason to react this way; Adam's parents had the ugliest divorce in the history ofwell, married people.

Lord, would it be too much to ask for Ruth and Billy Graham to walk down the street this very

minute? Our pastor and his wife? Anyone happily married for over four months?

Battlestations! Commitment path destabilizing! Evasive maneuvers! "I love you, Adam Torrence,

and I am not going to hurl luggage and insults at you, ever."

"I know," he says, sounding thoroughly distracted and unconvinced.

"Do you?" I say, fighting the urge to take his face in my hands and force him to look at me.

"Do I what?" He looks at me. "Do I still want to go to dinner tonight? I dunno. Do you?"


5/21

Chapter Four

He didn't. Tell me he didn't just ask me if I still want to go to dinner tonight.

Do I want to go to dinner tonight? What kind of question is that?

Actually, that isn't the real question at all, is it? Because I wouldn't care if Adam proposed in the

bathroom, on my rooftop or in the high-occupancy-vehicle lane of the freeway so long as he just popped

the question.

I want to go to dinner tonight. I want to go anywhere that will get me to "Yes!" As in "Yes, Adam

Torrence, I will marry you!" I sit next to the man I love, my hand on his slumped shoulder, vaulting every

prayer I can up to heaven on his behalf. Come on, Lord, I need a brilliant answer here.

"I want to be with you tonight, Adam. Celebrating our anniversary. If that means ham sandwicheson my living room floor because that's where you are, then okay." I kick the shoebox with the absolutely

adorable cream sling-backs out of view behind my handbag. "But," I say as gently as I know how, "I had

kind of looked forward to celebrating."

Adam turns and looks at me. He has the most astounding blue eyes I'd ever seen. Almost

turquoise, but shot through with flecks of deep sapphire. I see heaven when I look into them. Most of the

time. Today they looked clouded and strained. He grabs my hand. "I love you," he says, and I have the

same catch in my throat that I hear in his voice. "I love you so much."

If he produces a ring now I won't care if we eat at McDonald's tonight.

"Is it enough?" he says, breaking away from my gaze. "I mean, Jacob and Barb were crazy in love

only months ago."

Barb iswas Jacob's third wife. Would it be wise to point that out right now?

Adam holds my hand tighter. "I want it to be forever with us, Suz. When I stand in that church, I

won't ever go back on those vows. Never."

When. He said when, not if Hang on to that, Suz. It's lilting through my head like the lyrics to

Stand by Your Man. I say the only thing I can say: "It willbe forever with us, Adam. I feel it. We're not

Jacob and Barb. We're not anything like Jacob and Barb. And not just because we are different people,

but because God will be in our marriage."

Adam's sigh is so heavy I swear he's sinking into the concrete. "I know that here," he says, nearly

banging his head with his hand. "But I need to know it here." He places his hand over his heart. "I can't

stand the doubt. It makes me crazy."

"I don't think you ever get to know for sure," I reply. "Not at first. Marriage is a leap of faith. You

love someone, you commit your life to them and you trust love and God to do the rest." I grab Adam's

hand. "I trust us. And I trust God. Sure, I'm scared, but it's not enough to stop me from walking down any

aisles."

Adam pulls in a deep breath and straightens up. "You know, we shouldgo out to dinner tonight. I

mean really out, to someplace nice. I'll pick you up at seven-thirty. I've got a few things to do before then."

With a quick peck on the cheek, Adam trots off down the street.


6/21

Can you hear that? That chorus of cherubim and seraphim singing "Halleluiah?" I bounce up my

steps, sling-backs at the ready, humming What a Mighty God We Serve.

It'll be tonight. I just know it.

Chapter Five

Oh, if you could see me now: perfect red dress, the aforementioned adorable cream sling-backs

gracing my feet, demure blush-pink nails resting atop the tablecloth. It's more than perfect. It's our night, I

know it. One year ago today, when I saw that hunk of a guy hammering nails at the "House the Homeless"

fundraiser, I knew then what I know now: Adam is the guy for me.

It wasn't love at first sight I confess to something a little more carnal at first sight. Really, Adam's

bare arms could raise an eighty-year-old woman's blood pressure. But over time, that first shock of wild

attraction deepened into something warm and solid and worthy of a lifetime.

Seeing Adam dressed up a bit tonight, in that blue shirt I gave him for his birthday and slate-gray

slacks, my temperature's definitely on the rise. Do you think the bottom will still drop out of my stomach

after I've seen him dressed up fifty times? A hundred and fifty? Will I still think he looks amazing in his

retiree-white leather loafers and Bermuda shorts? Adam sighs and gazes at me. Oh, yep, he'll be the

senior center hottie, all right.

It's dessert. We never stay for dessert Adam's a get-an-ice-cream-on-the-way-home kind of guy.

But we're staying for dessert. He orders the gazillion-layer chocolate cake because, you know, guys can

get away with those kind of weapons-grade desserts. Me? I'm playing with fire risking a crme brle,

knowing full well my "skinny jeans" won't fit tomorrow. Who cares? No one's going to be looking at my

thighs they'll all be sighing at my left hand. Who wants to tell their children "I splurged and ordered the

fat-free frozen yogurt the night your father proposed"? This is a crme brle kind of moment.

Adam clears his throat. "I think you're right about needing to celebrate tonight. We have something,

you and I. I thank God every night for you, because you make me feel like Well, l ike I could do anything.

Be anybody. God could ask something huge and impossible of me, and if I could be sure you'd be at my

side, then I'd know I could do it."

Thumping. Not just beating, thumping. My heart is thumping in my chest. If time could sparkle, it'd

feel like this.

"This year has been great." He takes my hand. My lefthand. He's not getting down on his knees or

anything, but who really does that anymore, anyway? "I love you, Suzann White. More than I ever thought

I'd love anyone. And I know you love me, too."

I'm going to cry, I just know it. I'm having trouble breathing.

"Suz, I don't think you realize how huge that is. I don't just thinkyou love me, or guess it, I knowit.

For sure. Every day. I can't get over that. I don't wantto get over that."

Breathe, Suzann, breathe and take in every nanosecond of this moment

"So," he says, his voice full of importance, "I've got something for you."


7/21

Chapter Six

It's a black velvet box.

It's an oblong black velvet box. Oblong as in not square or round or small.

As in Not. Ring. Size.

Breathe.

No, don't breathe, pray. For wisdom. For strength. For mercy. How could anyone produce an

oblong-shaped box after a speech like that? You heard that speech. Proposal material. This was

supposed to be a proposal. This sure sounded like it was going to be a proposal. I bet every woman in Los

Angeles thought this was a proposal! I know I did.

For one sick, twisted moment, my brain plays with the notion that Adam is pulling a fast one, that

he's hidden the ring in a diversionary box.

Right. Adam, who doesn't pull pranks. Ever. The tiny shred of hope fizzles and disappears. There

is no ring. No proposal.

But there is a box. Sitting, alone and awkward, defiant in all its blackness against the fancy-dinner-

promise-white of the tablecloth. A study in contrast.

Hang on, you ridiculous woman, you just heard a speech most men would never utter. The man

poured his heart out to you. Now you're stomping on it? What's the matter with me? He just told me he

loves me, just spoke the equivalent of wanting to spend the rest of his life with me.

And I'm griping?

I love this man. I already know I want to spend the rest of my life with him, and he just told me he

wants the same. So now I need hardware to seal the deal?

It feels like two hours have just gone by, but Adam seems unaware of the tiny war raging in my

brain. He's just sitting there, smiling, waiting for me to open the box. He probably thinks I'm savoring the

moment.

Yes, there was a lot going on in that moment, but I don't think you could qualify any of it as

"savoring." More like "unsavory," as a matter of fact. Greedy, ungrateful, biological-clock-crazed ugliness.

I confess to God that I'm disappointed, and beg him to change my heart fast enough so that Adam

will never know all that just shot through my brain.

I take a deep breath. I open the box.

You know there are those moments that make you so sad and so happy at the same time? When

you know God is doing something huge in your life and part of you is thrilled and another part of you is

buckling under the burden?

That would be now.


8/21

Chapter Seven

"A cross?! Adam takes you to a fancy restaurant, gives you a Hollywood-worthy declaration of love

and then hands you a necklace?!" Lindy is stomping around her kitchen, her hands flying wildly. "You're

joking. Tell me you're joking."

Maybe coming here was a mistake. Lindy's not exactly the calmest person God ever created. I've

almost got a grip on this whole non-proposal scenario. "You're not helping." I don't need her whipping me

into the frenzy I've almost got squelched. I yell into an imaginary megaphone, "Cue the supportive friend!"

Lindy slams a hand onto one hip. "I am supportive. I value you. As a person, as a friend, as a

woman who ought to be getting married." Lindy starts yanking open cabinet doors, getting out stuff to

make coffee. "You guys are nuts about each other. Totally, hopelessly in love. If I didn't like you so much

it'd be nauseating. What is this man's problem?"

You should see this woman make coffee when she's angry. I never knew coffee could be a weapon

until I met Lindy. I'm flattered she's so outraged on my behalf, but I'm not really sure I want to drink

whatever she's brewing right now. I'm not even sure I should be here. I feel my dander getting back up just

listening to her. I've stuffed this disappointment back down so many times in the last twelve hours I'm not

sure it'll stay down much longer.

I head to the living room mirror in self-defense. It's a beautiful cross. I've never owned one with tiny

diamonds sparkling on it like this one. It catches the morning sun and sends a smattering of tiny rainbows

on the wall.

"It beautiful," I declare, as much to myself as to Lindy.

She comes up behind me. "It's gorgeous. It's expensive. It looks great on you." She turns me by

my shoulders. "But it's not what you wanted."

Look at me. I spent half the night finding the bright side and carefully building a wall around this

disappointment. How can Lindy knock it down in two minutes?

Because she is my friend. And she knows me and loves me too much to pretend otherwise. I will

not cry. I have a handsome man who loves me and I will not cry.

Lindy merely hands me the box of tissues. "Oh, just cry, will you? I'm not going to think you an

ungrateful hag or anything. It's not wrong to want to marry someone you're crazy in love with. Just get it all

out and then we'll figure out what to do next."

"I'm not going to" Oh, who am I kidding? I'm already sobbing.

Fifteen minutes later, I'm still sobbing, only now it's into my coffee mug.

"When do you see Adam again?" Lindy says, bringing a second box of tissues over to the couch

where I have been single-handedly solving L.A.'s drought problem for the last quarter of an hour.

"Tonight. There's a thing at church. I'm supposed to call him at two to figure out what time we're

meeting."

"Okay," pronounces Lindy in a brisk voice. "So now we know step one"

Step one of what?


9/21

Chapter Eight

Step one was what it should have been all along: seeing Adam. Actually, step one wasn't a step of

anything thanks to all those prayers for wisdom, I think. Lindy had a sixteen-stage battle plan drawn out

by the time I left her place. I stopped her when she offered to make a subliminal message tape of "Ask

Suzann to marry you" and slip it into Adam's stereo. She voices an animated cartoon character, andthey've got all kinds of audio toys up there at the studio. I don't doubt she'd have done it if I gave her the

go-ahead.

Which, of course, I didn't. Actually, after about ten minutes of thought and prayer, I ignored all of

her suggestions. I love Lindy, but she's more of a control freak than she knows, and I need to cope with

this my way. Actually, not my way, but our way. "Our way" being the one Adam, God and I use to work

things out.

Why didn't I realize that one look at Adam in the light of a calmer day would help far more thananything else? Well, yes, the fact that he's holding a red rose does help, I admit. But he's adorable even

without the rose. Did I mention how much I love red? And roses? See what I mean about this guy?

I accept the beautiful flower. "Why the rose?"

"It's the first day of our second year together. I thought we ought to start it off right."

I give him a kiss and the world falls back into place. Mostly. There's still the whole host of people

we'll see in church in ten minutes, many of whom were thinking I'd be sporting precious metal today. Well,I am sporting precious metal. It's just around my neck instead of around my finger. And that's okay.

Mostly.

Almostly. Hey, I'm in broadcast communication, I can make up a word. And don't tell me you don't

know exactly what I mean by "almostly." Because if you're female, and you've been within ten feet of a

decent guy, you know exactly the sort of semi-satisfied at-least-we're-getting-somewhere compromise I'm

talking about.

"I'm liking year two very much so far." That's almostly true. Will Adam and I talk about what our

future holds? Yes, we will. But not today. Today I'm going to remember that I have a wonderful, faith-filled

man who loves me. That I'm holding my favorite flower, that a sparkling, lovely cross now graces my neck.

I won't forget what I want, but I won't forget what I have, either.

"Me, too," Adam replies, gazing at the cross he fastened around my neck a mere twenty-four hours

ago. "Me, too."

It's going to be okay. I know that now.

"Hey, guess what I remembered this morning?" Adam says as we walk up the sidewalk to the

church's activities center.

"What?"

"It's Valentine's Day in three weeks."

All that lovely contentedness, that blissful almostlyness, evaporates in the space of seven seconds.

Valentine's Day. Ground zero for serious relationships. Now? He brings that up now?


10/21

Where do guys learn to mess with our minds like that?

Chapter Nine

An open letter to bridal magazines everywhere:

Stop it.

Don't flirt your lovely, white-silked lushness at me from the magazine rack at the convenience

store. Take your rose-petaled happiness and keep it to yourself until I ask you for your help. I do not need

to hear about how French tulips make the elegant statement I've been looking for. I can't bear to know

what this year's "must have" bridesmaid's dress is. I don't need to know which colors are "in" I've

already been planning that sort of thing for years and it doesn't matter that I won't admit that to anyone.

How dare you thrust your buttercream frosted layers at me when I'm just trying to innocently browse a

copy ofNewsweek!

And you, television shows, no fair ganging up on me, either. Don't think I haven't noticed the

astounding number of weddings and proposals popping up on my favorite shows. What's the matter with

you people? Can't a self-respecting single woman get through the first half of February without seven

thousand dousings of marital bliss? Does every single soap opera on the planet have to involve a wedding

just because it's the second month of the year?

And, oh, you, shameful jewelry stores. You are the cruelest of all. Must you tempt us with sparkling,

glittering trinkets until we're ready to hiss "my precious!" like Golem in Lord of the Rings? Do you not

realize that healthy, serious relationships can exist for years at a time, even without the inclusion of

diamonds? Not every man can look stunning and romantic as he proposes to his wife-to-be on the Tuscan

cost with a ring that would send most of us into cardiac arrest. Keep your impossibly attractive tableaus

the gorgeous men in the fairytale settings uttering the things every woman longs to hear away from our

vulnerable imaginations! We've been fed Prince Charming since we were three. We know the deal. We

already want it (even when we say we don't need it).

Don't make it worse. Don't feed the frenzy.

And, if it's not too much to ask, would every engaged woman in Los Angeles please hide her left

hand for the next three weeks? Come on now, be a sport. You got yours. You know it. We know it. Enjoy it

with your friends, but leave the rest of us naked-fingered women to our struggles with the men we love. To

our almostlyness.

Thank you.

I'm done now.


11/21

Chapter Ten

"What do you want to do for Valentine's Day?"

Get engaged. "Oh, I don't know, something nice."

Adam puts down the book he's holding as we browse our favorite bookshop. "Oh no you don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't do that thing. That 'read my mind' thing women do. Men are terrible at it, and it always gets

us into trouble. 'Something nice' is the minefield of relationships." He extracts me from the mystery novels

I've been scanning by pulling both of my hands toward him. Then he plants my hands around his waist

and pulls me close. Wow, I love it when he does that. I just melt. "I'm not brave enough to venture out into

that minefield. C'mon, Suz, what do you want to do?"

How would you answer that in my position? Do I go for brutal honesty? Do I respect the Universal

Guy Commitment Fear as the unopposable force that it is? I stall. "I want what every woman wants. I want

to feel special and to make a big deal about being in love. You know, a nice dinner, flowers, that sort of

thing."

Adam furrows his eyebrows. "I think I need more detail than that. You know me a nice dinner

could mean a really great cheeseburger. Tell me which restaurant you'd like." He attempts a bow. "Your

wish is my command, madam." He looks up and winks. "Within budgetary reason, of course. This isHollywood and some wishes go far beyond my means."

My brain shuffles through proposal-worthy-but-not-too-pricey restaurants. I can drop a big hint here

if I name somewhere famous for proposals but someplace still within Adam's non-movie-star price range.

Bingo! That wildly romantic fondue restaurant, Grotto. There was just a piece in the paper about how the

restaurant averages six proposals a weekend. The place should be filled with guys popping the question

on Valentine's Day. Adam will get safety in numbers and maybe even moral support in the men's room or

something. Don't balk I'll employ any means necessary here.

"Grotto," I declare. "Let's get really romantic and go to Grotto. There was even something about it

in the paper this week so you can go dig up the info." That wasn't too blatant, was it? Like I said, any

means necessary.

"Grotto." His eyes light up. "Hey, I read that article. It sounds like just the kind of place I've been

looking for."

He read the article? The one about how many people get engaged there? And he wants to go?

He's eager to go?

Oh, don't go there, Suz. Don't get your hopes all whipped up.

Too late


12/21

Chapter Eleven

Did I mention Valentine's Day is my favorite holiday? All that red, all those roses, all that love and

happiness; it just makes my heart swoon. And I am so in the mood to swoon. I was practically gushing on

the air today, playing all my favorite love songs, taking requests and dedications. It's Valentine's Day and

baby, love is in the air.

Adam looks sharp tonight. He has a tie on that's got to count for something. It's a red tie, too.

Did I mention red is my favorite color? I'm repeating myself, aren't I? Well, cut me a bit of a break, I know

perfectly well why I'm jittery tonight. I've tried and tried not to get my hopes up, but they went up without

my consent. Come on, getting engaged on Valentine's Day is almost a no-brainer the whole day's built

around love, you just fill in the blanks. It can't be wrong to think that tonight might be the night, could it?

Okay, fine, I know it could. God and I even had a long talk about my expectations this afternoon.

Yes, it counts even if you're doing your nails while praying. I'm female and all females know how to multi-task. Lindy knits while she prays. Monks and nuns have walked while they prayed. That Brother Lawrence

guy peeled potatoes while he prayed. What's a little nail enamel between the faithful?

I admit it, I was openly begging God to get Adam to propose. I figure He knows what I'm thinking

anyway so why try to hide it? I didn't get a whole lot back in response. "My timing is perfect" was all I kept

receiving. My head knows this. I understand the concept of God's perfect timing. My heart, however, is

fond of jumping the gun. Like Lindy said, it's not wrong to want to marry the man you're crazy in love with.

When we got out of the car in the restaurant parking lot tonight, I got a kiss that pulled the world out

from underneath my feet. That man can kiss. He's no poet, and he's not really much of a communicator

(which is okay since I communicate more than enough for the both of us I'm a professional, after all),

but the man's non-verbal skills speak volumes. The way he touches my cheek, the way he pulls me into

his arms that is about two hearts that belong together. We belong together. I know it. I know Adam

knows it.

Come on Adam, just ask. It's four words. "Will you marry me?" Four words. I'll make up a cue card

if you need one. I'll play charades. Hey, you can even do it in two: "Marry me" works just as well. I canname that proposal in four words. I can name it in two. Name that proposal! He is staring dreamily into my

eyes over dessert and I'm sending every telepathic shout of "I want to marry you" that I can.

He's fidgeting. For that matter, so am I. That's got to be good.

"Suzann, I've got a question to ask you, and I think I already know the answer, but I feel like I've

got to ask it anyway, because it's important."

Houston, we have liftoff in fivefourthree


13/21

Chapter Twelve

"Suzann, do you want to have kids? Do you want to be a mom? You know, the at-home, carpool,

Play-Doh-and-Legos kind of mom?"

Okay.

Notthe question we were shooting for. Perfect timing, huh, Lord? I know You're God Almighty and

all, but could we have a talk about Your concept of perfect timing?

But, I remind myself, a question highly pertinent to the issue at hand. We're definitely heading in

the right direction. I can't fault the guy for wanting to cover all his bases before popping the big question,

can I?

Sure I can, but that's beside the point here.

"Yeah," I say, although it comes out more of a sigh than a word.

"I didn't have that," Adam says quietly. "I think kids should have that. I'd want you to want that. I

mean, we should want that together. I'm not making any sense. Am I making any sense?" He's twisting his

napkin into knots, staring down at it and looking as if it just cost him a great deal to admit that. At this

moment, I love him more than I've ever loved him.

His look and his words fuel the ferocious craving in my soul. I'm sucked into the power of themoment, into my bone-deep desire to be with this man and build a family with him. "I want to have kids.

Lots of kids. I want to be a mother. Badly. I'veI've always wanted to be a mother." And suddenly I'm

tearing up in a way I never expected, as if saying that gave it new strength and urgency. I grab Adam's

hand, no longer able to stop myself. "I want to have children with you, Adam. I want yourchildren. I want a

life with you." I'm openly crying now, not caring that the people at the next table are staring at me. "I want

to marry you, Adam Torrence. I want to marry you. So for heaven's sake, will you please ask me?"

Oh, mercy. What have I done? I have practically just begged this man to marry me. Not good. Light

years from good. Oh, Lord, I cry to heaven, please make this okay.

Adam looks like a five-alarm fire just went off in his chest. There's such a crowd of emotions on his

face that I can't tell if he's going to cry or cheer or run from the room. I know he loves me. But I can't for

the life of me tell what he's thinking right now.

Utter terror. My pride is worn raw and my heart laid open in utter terror.

The pause before he answers is beyond enormous.

"I know," he says softly.


14/21

Chapter Thirteen

I know? I know?

"I know" is what Han Solo said to Princess Leia when she finally admitted she loved him.

It wasn't an acceptable answer then, either.

I know what Adam was saying. I know he was being honest at a tremendous cost. I know he loves

me. None of that stopped this moment from hurting like an open wound. Because no matter how I

rationalize it, it feels like Adam knows full well how much I want to marry him and he still can't bring

himself to take that step.

And that cuts through me in ways I can't even put into words.

"I I" I choke on any reply I attempt. Where do we go from here? Where can we go from here?

I've done everything but do the asking myself. If I thought it would solve anything, believe me I'd have

asked Adam weeks ago. But my asking won't change his fear of the commitment. It'd just make things

worse, backing him into an emotional corner.

I want the man I love to propose because he can't imagine life without me, because he loves me.

Not because he's feeling pressured or cornered or that it just seemed the right thing to do at the time. Not

because I wouldn't wait any longer for him to spit the words out.

But that's just what I've done, isn't it? Asking him no, begging him to ask me isn't any different

from asking him. I've ruined everything. I've let myself get caught up in a rush that never should have

happened and I've ruined everything.

Half the restaurant is staring at me. Those that didn't hear my pathetic begging can't help but notice

my current crying. And it's not the lovely, tear-running-down-one-cheek crying here. I'm choking out ugly,

gasping sobs. I've got to get out of here. Right now, and I don't care who's looking. This is horrible and

awful and all my own doing. I want to die. To just curl up in an unmarried little ball and die.

I fumble for my handbag, knocking silverware onto the floor. My vision is a teary blur, but I don't

care. Oh, Lord, what have I done?

"No, Suzann, don't" Adam sounds so hopelessly lost.

As I push past the dropped jaws of the other diners, I somehow catch the most unexpected

conversation. The older gentleman to Adam's left has slammed something down on the table.

"Land sakes, young man, do you love that woman?"

I stop dead in my tracks, suddenly needing to hear his answer. Could this get any more public or

painful?

"Yes," Adam gulps out.

"Well then, you idiot, go get her!"


15/21

Chapter Fourteen

I'm standing in the parking lot, clutching my handbag and trying to breathe when I hear Adam's

footsteps behind me. He just stands there for a moment. What is there to say? This isn't one of those

moments you can fix with a well-turned phrase. I can't even bring myself to look at him.

"I love you, Suzann. You know that. And I wish I was at the place you are, that I could say the

things the thingyou want to hear from me"

The unsaid "but" hanging off the end of that sentence could rip a girl in two. Already has, actually. I

squint my eyes shut and apply every ounce of will I have into standing up straight when I want to crumple

into tiny bits.

"I love you too much to fake this," he goes on, and there's a gut-wrenching catch in his voice. "To

say it before I'm sure. Before I mean it with every bone in my body."

Oh, Father, save me. I didn't think this could hurt more. "What else do you need, Adam? What is it

that's missing?"

"Don't you think I've asked myself that a million times? Don't you think I want to be sure? When I

look at you, when I know how I feel and what you want, don't you get that it's ripping me up not being

sure?"

Adam slams his hand on his car hood, pushing out an exasperated breath. I look up at him, and ithits me. It comes over me as if I have just turned to stone. As if all the pain and aching have just solidified

into cold, unflinching fact. "It's not about 'sure,' Adam," I say with a voice that's so steady I'm not even sure

it's mine. "I can't fix this for you. And I don't know how much longer I can wait for you." Part of me is

wailing inside, refusing to accept what I've just said. But a deeper part of me knows that no matter how

sharp and stabbing, it is the truth. "Find your way out of this, Adam," I plead.

"I don't know how. You have to help me." He looks at me and I actually feel my heart breaking. I

could swear I heard the snap.

"I can't help you. I'll love you and pray for you and wait for you as long as I can, but I can't do this

for you. Nobody can. The world will always be full of bad parents and horrible childhoods. It'll be full of

people who can't stay married and who mess up marriage and mess up each other. Until you can ask me

anyway, until you know that you want this enough to not care about the odds against us, then I" I cannot

finish that sentence. I can't even bring myself to think of it, much less to speak it. "Ineed to go." I can't

bear the thought of being in his car, so despite my ridiculously high heels, I turn away and start walking

toward home. It's early, and I'll get a cab somewhere along the way. Right now I just need to be moving.

"Come on, Suzann, won't you at least let me take you home?"

He was asking that a third time when I turned the corner. Some blisters are worth having.


16/21

Chapter Fifteen

I don't remember much about how I got here. I remember crying in the cab, I remember the first

candy bar, but there are four wrappers in my handbag. How I got to be standing in the checkout line of a

toy store buying Spring Wedding Barbie and Commitment-Ready Ken (not their real names but I

imagine you guessed that) and a host of matrimonial accessories, I'm not sure.

I think it started with the Skipper bridesmaid that looked so much like Lindy. There's some

disturbing impulse at work here, but I don't have the emotional fortitude right now to stop it. Besides,

bingeing on Barbie attire seems a lot safer than several other things my credit card could be doing right

now. Like six dozen pairs of expensive shoes.

Like booking a three-week vacation to Fiji.

Or signing up for a lifetime subscription to a Christian online dating service with an ad that reads"Only Commitment-Ready Males Need Apply."

I can't go home. I know Adam, he's going to be waiting for me there and I don't want to see him yet.

I can't spend the night in ToyMania. My folks live three hundred miles from here. If I head to the all-night

diner across the street, I might eat every pie on the West Coast. Plus, I'd have to explain why I'm dining

with an entire Barbie bridal party. It's Valentine's Day, and the whole world is on a date. There's only one

place I can go.

* * *

Lindy didn't even ask why I appeared on her door with a bag full of dolls and their tiny special-

occasion outfits. She didn't need to evidently Adam's been phoning all over town trying to find me. "I

figured you didn't want to be found," she says after hugging me. "Plus, I figured you'd end up here

eventually if you suspected Adam was camping out on your doorstep." She stares at my shopping bag

with one raised eyebrow. "I didn't figure on the Barbie thing, though." She adopts a five-year-old voice.

"You wanna come in an' play? My mom says it's okay."

There are days when it's weird having a cartoon character voice for your best friend. Then there

are the days when the weirdness is just what the doctor ordered.

Lindy plops down in the middle of her living room floor and starts rummaging through the bags.

"That mean boy who called b'fore," Lindy says, still in kiddie mode, as she pulls Barbie from her box, "I

called him baaad names for bein' so mean to you."

And so I sat there, laughing and crying, as Lindy re-enacted her conversation with Adam using

Barbie and Ken. I'm sure she didn't say half the things she said she did, but it made me feel better

anyway. Lindy's so hilarious she could make a funeral funny. Right now, I need that.

My cell phone rang eight times in the next hour.

I didn't answer it.


17/21

Chapter Sixteen

I spent the night at Lindy's. We stayed up talking, accessorizing Barbie and then accessorizing

ourselves. Just being generally silly, which was my best defense against the tide of despair that

threatened to overtake me at any moment. We dreamed up complicated schemes to get Adam to

propose, and I laughed over them until my giggles finally dissolved into the full -scale sobbing I knew wouldsurface sometime that night.

I always thought "broken-hearted" was a sort of ridiculous phrase.

I know better now. Only I don't just feel as if my heart is broken, I feel as if my whole life is broken.

Last night I slammed up against the truth I wouldn't face before: it's not just a matter of time. Adam may

never be ready to commit to marriage. I know that the man's lived with the worst model of marriage the

world has ever produced. But having an injury is not the same thing as choosing to heal. Adam has to

choose to heal, choose to make that leap of faith. We belong together. Adam knows it. Now he has tobelieve it.

I held my breath as I got out of the cab at my apartment. If Adam has pulled an all-night vigil and is

still there, I wasn't sure what I'd do. But he's not here. There's just a single red rose pinned to my door. No

note. What's left to say? Before last night I might have spent today consoling myself, convincing myself

that Adam just needs more time to work through his issues. Last night I realized this is not a question of

time. This is a question of Adam.

And of God. I have sent up so many prayers over the past twelve hours. Not just because I need

God to fix this, but because I love Adam so much that I'm desperate to see him healed. Even if it's not to

marry me.

But, oh merciful Lord, what if it's not to marry me? How, Lord, can you help take down the life I've

built up for myself with this man? How do I dismantle the dreams I've pieced together? How do I stop

loving him now that I've stopped waiting for him?

I didn't like the answer that came back to me.

You don't. You can't.

I won't stop loving Adam anytime soon. I still love him. Desperately. It'll just be about hurt now,

instead of about happiness. I'm usually such a happy person, I don't know how I'm going to do this.

I walk right past my answering machine, with its eleven messages waiting for me, and simply go to

bed.


18/21

Chapter Seventeen

You know, when you sleep the entire weekend, don't answer your phone and call in sick to work

the following Monday, you'd think the world would get the hint that you'd really rather be alone.

No chance. At 4:00 p.m. Monday afternoon, someone was thumping on my door. I figured Lindy

had decided it was time to drag me out of my despair.

It was Adam.

I suppose, on some level, I knew it might be him. I did brush my hair on the way to answer the

door, after all. I knew I'd have to deal with him eventually. There was some tiny, catty part of me that

relished the fact that he looked terrible. I wanted him to suffer as much as I had over the past three days.

But, man, the guy looked really bad. I had to stop myself from hugging him. I wanted to. I wanted to letmyself slip back into the old "us," but that also meant living the cycle of disappointment, cajoling and

waiting for Adam to come around. It would have been so easy. Even bleary-eyed, he's still the most

handsome man God ever created.

But I held back.

He stood there for a moment, hands stuffed awkwardly in his pockets. "Can I come in? Just for a

minute?"

I almost said "No," but I can't just extract him out of my life like a bad tooth. We're still too

connected. Even if it's excruciating, I want to end this the right way.

Adam doesn't even sit down. He just stands in my kitchen, mussing his hair, picking at a photo of

us on my fridge. I wonder, for a disconnected moment, how many photos of us there are around my

apartment. I grab a soda and sit down at my kitchen table, feeling better by knowing there's a whole

dinette set between us.

"IumI got laid off today. Jacob's decided to declare bankruptcy if it'll keep Barb from gettingany more of his money. He called us all into his office, drank half a bottle of scotch in front of us as he told

us how ugly things have gotten between him and Barb, and then told us all to box up our stuff and go

home. Handed each of us two weeks' severance and told us to not come back on Tuesday."

Adam is the kind of man who needs to have things in order before he can move on. The guy who

can't buy a new carton of eggs until the last egg is gone in the old carton. That's actually a huge part of his

problem. He's waiting for life to fall into place before he thinks we can get married.

And now he's unemployed. Life just exploded out of place. How cruel is it to be shot by the stray

bullet of an ugly divorce?

Fsst. The tiny flame of hope that had been lingering in the back of my heart was snuffed out. I

didn't even know I'd kept it lit until I felt it go out.

This morning, I asked God to be merciful and make this a clean break.

When will I ever learn to be careful what I pray for?


19/21

Chapter Eighteen

"So what'd you do then?" Lindy asks as we're walking home from our favorite yarn shop, where she

just bought me some gorgeous red boyfriend-breakup-yarn as a consolation gift. Lindy got me stuck on

knitting. It's a safe, non-caloric passion. And, if you're lucky, you get a cool sweater out of your efforts.

Okay, sometimes, it's too large to fit a linebacker or might only fit Aunt Lucy's Chihuahua, but a satisfyinghobby nonetheless.

"What was there to do? I told him I was sorry, that I'd pray for him and then told him it was better if

he left."

"Whoa," says Lindy, who often speaks the truth whether or not you want to hear it. "Kick a guy

when he's down, huh?"

I shoot her the look she deserves. "What was I supposed to do? If I comfort him through this, thennext month there'll be another reason why he's not ready to get married. If it was a month or so from now

and I could be his friend without it ripping my heart to shreds, then things might be different. But I can't be

that for him. Not now. It just hurts too much."

"You're sure?"

I stop dead on the sidewalk. "Of course I'm not sure. I don't love him any less now than I did a

week ago. Do I still want to " My voice catches and I am reminded how much hurt is still lurking just

below the surface. " to marry Adam Torrence? Yes. But I don't know if he can marry me. I don't evenknow if he knows if he can marry me." I pull in a big sigh designed to keep the tears at bay. "And it hit me,

in that parking lot, that there isn't a single thing I can do about that. I can't love him out of it, I won't corner

him into proposing and I don't want to marry him until he works his way through this. Trouble is, I'm not

sure he can work his way through this."

"Don't get me wrong," Lindy replies, "I want to tell the guy off as bad as you do. And I think you're

doing the right thing by pulling back. And the guy certainly has issues. But God's a big God, you know."

"Don't do that," I shoot back. "Don't go feeding me any hope. I've squashed that little bit of hope

down so many times I think I'll choke on it if it shows up again. Adam's parents hate each other. Now he

just lost his job because of a bad marriage. If he had issues before, he's got whopping issues now." I

practically stamp my foot in defiance. "No. If in the course of a year and all we've been through, if that isn't

enough to pull him out of his doubts, then there isn't anything that will. Or anyone. I'm just trying to get to

the place where I can thank God for protecting me from what might have happened if I'd let this go any

further."

"Suz?"

"What?"

"I wouldn't follow that train of thought right now."

Great. Just what I need. More Lindy relationship lectures. From a woman who hasn't had a

successful date in months. "And why not?" I bark back.

Lindy points to the front steps of my apartment, where Adam Torrence sits.

Holding a small black velvet box.


20/21

Chapter Nineteen

I repeat: holding a small black velvet box! A ring box!

"I think I hear my mom calling me," Lindy says, heading off in the opposite direction.

"Don't you dare leave me," I say, grabbing her elbow. "Not until" Until what? I don't even know

what I'm saying.

"That man does not look like he wants an audience. I'm just going to go sit over there on that

bench andumknit something. Send up a flare if you need me, but I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to

talk to me."

Adam stands up. I drop my shopping bag on the ground. Suddenly I can't seem to find enough

oxygen to breathe. He walks toward me, and I faintly notice Lindy gathering up my shopping bag andbacking away. My feet are glued to the ground, and I'm suddenly acutely aware how poorly I'm dressed. In

the instant I register that I look like an idiot, I realize that I don't care.

When he reaches me on the street corner, he gets down on one knee. I watch his hand lift the lid of

the box to reveal the most beautiful ring ever created. It's completely different than what I had in mind. It's

absolutely perfect.

Adam clears his throat. A passing driver cheers and beeps his horn. "My life fell apart this

weekend. I lost my job, but more important, I lost the woman I love. I'm in lousy shape, and the world iscrumbling around me. I thought this would be the last situation on earth I'd find the courage to ask you to

marry me. Nothing is how I wanted it to be, and I'm scared to death.

"But I realized yesterday that I can't fix any of it without you. The world is a messy place. People

are trashing their marriages left and right. I don't even know if I know what a good marriage looks like. But

I know there's only one person on earth I couldmake a good marriage with. There's only one person I

could ever try to be a good husband for. Who I could be scared with. And that one person is you."

Tears are streaming down my cheeks as I watch Adam take the ring out of the box and reach formy hand.

"Suzann White, I don't know how to make this work, but I could never make this work without you.

Will you marry me?"

I could barely choke the word out I was crying so hard. I nodded so enthusiastically I thought my

head would fall off. I pulled that man to his feet and kissed his socks off.

In the distance, I heard horns beeping, someone applauding and Lindy whooping "Thank you,Jesus!" from her bench.


21/21

Chapter Twenty

An unemployed man should stop at four dozen roses.

I'm not going to tell him that.

"And that's today's weather, brought to you today by Olsen Motorsports, where cars are their

passion." A yellow light flashes on my console. "But before we return to our Wish 'Em Wednesday Music

Jam, we'll take a few more music wishes from callers." I push the connection switch on my console and

wait for the cue from my engineer. "Hi, you're on with Suzann. What's your Wednesday Music Wish?"

"Suzann, will you marry me?"

I look over to see my engineer grinning shamelessly, giving me a thumbs-up. "And yes, folks, just

in case you just tuned in, that would be the fourth time this morning. Yes, Adam, I will marry you."

Sound effects of wild applause and the Wedding March fill my earphones. Interns are dancing in

the hallway, making doe-eyes at me behind the red roses they've swiped from my bouquets. A woman

from sales somehow made a veil from shredded paper and tried to put in on my head during the last

newsbreak. Two hundred people have asked to see my ring, even though I haven't had a spare moment

to go get my nails done.

Adam has called and proposed every hour of my show. It seems he's decided to make up for lost

time by backing up his first proposal with several very public declarations of his intentions. If he tries to getout of this, I imagine I now have two or three hundred thousand audio witnesses.

Not that I'll need it. Sure, it took him a while, but this guy didn't just grasp the concept of

commitment, he embodied it. Now do you see why God wanted him on His side? I'd be annoyed if I

weren't so absolutely lovestruck.

I mute my microphone and yell, "No more" into the studio intercom. My engineer just taps his

earphones, miming that he can't quite make out what I'm saying. His grin tells me Adam might make it on

the air a time or two more before I sign off today.

Three bakeries have faxed over offers to do the cake. Two restaurants have offered to host the

reception for free if I'll agree to a live broadcast.

Me? I'm just staring at my left hand, speechless.

I suppose I should have a long conversation with God about my concept of perfect timing.

Because, sometimes, "perfect" doesn't look at all like what you had planned. And getting to "yes"may just be the most amazing journey of all.

The End

Alie Pleiter - Getting to Yes

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