Mostly, she’d been distracted and playing around on her phone. He’d really liked those brief few days when they’d gone without technology. Maybe he could suggest a reprise for Bermuda? “You’ve been awfully busy,” he said, trying not to sound annoyed.
“I’m sorry.” She looked up, appearing regretful. “It’s Hope. I just wanted to fill her in.”
Now he felt bad for being annoyed. It was natural she wanted to check in with her sister. It must have been heartbreaking to not have Hope at the wedding. “How’s she doing?”
“Finally better. Almost completely. She says the airline delays were probably a blessing in disguise. She had another minor relapse last night.”
“Oh no.”
“She’s going to be fine,” Jackie said. “She went to the doctor earlier and will check in at urgent care later this morning just to be safe.”
“Good. That’s good. She can update us before we board the plane, then.”
“Yes.”
She kept madly typing away, her fingers thumping against the tiny keypad.
“Looks like you’re writing a whole novel.”
“Nope.” She smiled sleepily, and Brent could tell she still wasn’t totally awake. Perhaps they could grab more coffee in Boston before heading to their gate. “Just the story of our love.”
That sounded terribly sweet to him, and he said so. “It’s got kind of a ring to it.”
“Ha-ha, yeah.” She kept typing and glanced up only briefly. “I’m sending some photos, too. You know, group photos and a few couple shots.”
“Great idea.”
“She wants to know what she missed.” From the constant buzzing indicating her replies, he surmised Hope was pretty enthusiastic about it.
“It’s a shame she couldn’t make it.”
“Yeah, but you’ll meet her soon.”
“When?”
Jackie bit her bottom lip, which was a new habit of hers he’d noticed. She’d only started it this week. “Um, maybe after we get back from Bermuda? Hope has the summers off, so we could go down to Durham sometime.”
“That would be fun.” He set his gaze back on the road. They were on I-95 now and approaching Boston, so traffic was getting thick. “Or she could come see us.”
“Yeah, that, too.” She turned off her phone with a flourish. “There. All done.”
He glanced at her phone lying dark on her lap. “It’s funny how those things have taken over our lives.”
“It’s true. They can be a pain but necessary.”
“Not necessary,” he told her. “Maybe a plus.” He centered his hands on the steering wheel. “We seemed to get along just fine without our phones those first few days.”
Jackie laughed. “I loved our picnic. Even the trek through the mud.”
“That was a bit dicey. What with that gigantic stick-worm chasing us.”
Jackie laughed again. “Right.” She dumped her phone in her purse. “It was kind of fun not being distracted by phone calls, emails, and such.”
“The Internet and social media, too.”
“Yes, all of that,” she agreed.
“Sometimes I wonder what life must have been like in the old days.”
“Which old days?”
“Well,” he said, “Grandmother Margaret and Grandpa Chad’s day. Back when there were only three television channels—”
“Four, counting PBS.”
“Yeah.” He chuckled at her attempt at accuracy. “Did you know that my grandmother still communicates with some of her friends by snail mail?”
“How archaic,” she teased.
He shot her a grin. “When’s the last time you wrote a real letter?”
“On paper, you mean?” She settled back against her seat, adjusting her shoulder strap. “Last month.”
“Liar.”
“Hey! Our wedding invitations went by snail mail.”
“That was an exception. An event. I hardly think that counts.”
“Oh yeah, Mr. Smarty Pants? When’s the last time you sent a snail mail?” Before he answered, she jumped in. “Business correspondence doesn’t count.”
“Hmm.”
“See? You can’t remember.”
“I would have if it was important.”
“That’s exactly it,” Jackie said. “There’s something so much more serious about snail mail.”
“Do tell.”
“I mean it. Nobody jokes around or says ‘LOL’ in a handwritten letter.”
“Maybe you just haven’t read one in a while?”
“Ha-ha.”
Brent smirked. “Or written one, either.”
She swatted his arm. “When I have something important to say, I’ll write one.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she said smugly. “Absolutely.” Her face lit up as she stared out the window and up at the sky. “Look. There goes an airplane. And another.”
“We’re almost there,” he said with a grin. “Get ready for Bermuda.”
…
Hope walked beside Brent at a brisk pace, pulling her rolling carry-on bag behind her as they entered the airport. They’d left his SUV in the long-term parking lot and taken a shuttle to the building. Though she’d spent a large part of the trip here catching Jackie up on particulars and coordinating their meet-up, she’d truly enjoyed her lighthearted banter with Brent. He was so easy to talk to, even when they were kidding about something as mundane as snail mail.
She fretted over his interest in meeting “Hope.” Naturally, he was simply being a caring husband and trying to be a good brother-in-law, but she couldn’t help but wonder what would happen the next time they saw each other. Would he experience any spark of recognition in seeing her? Or would he remain so completely convinced that she’d been Jackie that he’d never guess a glimmer of the truth? She was glad this whole charade would soon be over, because she couldn’t endure playing her sister for one more day—or night. It was too painful.
Poor Brent. She’d really put him through the ringer on his wedding night. There’d been no prospect of romance at all. She supposed he and Jackie would work that out in Bermuda. The sad part was Jackie didn’t know Brent any better than she had before, while Hope felt like she knew him inside and out. She’d come to understand how thoughtful and caring he was—secretly romantic and adoring, too. He clearly adored her, at least.