Share A Slice With Me

My Dearest Elizabeth,

I hope this letter finds you well.

Now what? Wasn't that too obvious? Of course he wished her well, obviously Elizabeth knew that; but "my dearest?" He'd never called her that before. Come to think of it, the first and only time he ever called her "Elizabeth" was when he finally had to say goodbye. Was he stepping too far too fast? John crumpled the paper and threw it over his shoulder. He missed the wastebasket, but didn't notice. He knew what he was trying to say, but the words just wouldn't come. He'd never done this before. What was he supposed to say? He smoothed out a fresh piece of paper.

Dear Smitty,

My sister made a chocolate cake today. If you were to find yourself in Boston soon enough, I would save you a slice. I do wish you were here to share it with me.

Now wasn't that ridiculous? The last time he'd seen Elizabeth had been such a tearful affair, and John was talking about chocolate cake. Though, it wasn't just any chocolate cake. It was his sister's special recipe. The sponge was rich and moist, with a coffee flavored filling, and a thick creamy icing. In the three years he'd served in Korea, John almost forgotten its flavor. It made him happy and sad in the same swing: He was happy to be home, but he was sad not to be sharing it Elizabeth. He hadn't seen her since the ceasefire. There had always been a professional barrier between anything more than a friendship. Elizabeth or "Smitty" as everyone called her over there, when asked about her feelings for John, simply said:

"You're easily my best friend over here, and I value that too much to pursue a dead end fancy." John conceded that she was right at the time, and never pushed her about it again. Captain John O'Malley was serving as a chaplain in an American field hospital. Being a religious example and guide for his unit, he had maintained a chaste lifestyle.

Lieutenant Elizabeth Smith had literally rolled into his life during the first year of the war as a field medic from the Canadian Armed Forces. The American driver had been killed, and the bus was filled injured soldiers. If Smitty hadn't taken the wheel, no one on the bus would have survived. When Smitty finally lurched the bus to a halt in the middle of the field hospital's compound, all the doctors and nurses swarmed the back of the bus for the wounded men; so no one but John and a young corporal saw the driver door swing open, and Smitty spilling out of the seat; Her hand clutching tightly to a red splotch spreading across her ribs. The corporal caught her, and John helped him carry Smitty to triage. She recovered from her bullet removal surgery fairly quickly, left a lasting impression on the hospital, and her commanding officer. Smitty was promoted to Captain six months later.

John and Smitty always had an easy rapport. Smitty had a sympathetic streak from all her back and forth trips to the front, and John had the perfect disposition for his role. When John had doubts of his usefulness in a war zone, Smitty reassured him of it. When Smitty was afraid to undergo anesthesia to get the bullet removed, John stayed with her through the whole procedure. Smitty always set aside a few dollars for John's local orphans' charity, adored his innocent sense of humor, and admired his strength of character under pressure. Smitty, being aware of John's chaste nature, always tried to remain platonic; but despite her best efforts she still caught feelings, and unbeknownst to her, so did John.

How perfectly dramatic was that mess? Two people find true love in each other, but may never address it or act upon it lest they break a holy vow and a true friendship in one felled swing. John gained consciousness of his own feelings in the last year of the war. Smitty became engaged to a doctor in the same camp. John wished her happiness, but felt hollow about it. He remained in denial as to why, until the doctor confronted Smitty about how much time she spent with to John. It was a dramatic argument in which Smitty passionately defended her platonic relationship, and openly pitied her fiance for not having his own best friend to confide in. The doctor took his confrontations to John directly afterwards.

"You can't fool me. You look at her the same way I do - you love her don't you?"

John was caught off guard. He'd never looked at anyone with longing before - because he wasn't supposed to.

"A true friend is someone to cherish," he answered slowly "though I assure you; you needn't worry about me." The doctor wasn't convinced, and neither was John.

This argument was the first of several, until Smitty called off the engagement. When she did, John felt relieved, and guilty. He braced himself for the inevitability of losing her, because one way or another:

The war would eventually end. They could part ways on grounds of friendship. They could keep in touch through letters, and move on with their lives in true happiness for each other. Then in the last hours before the ceasefire, a blast went off in the middle of the camp, and took John's hearing with it.

Suddenly his entire world was changed. Suddenly he couldn't do the very thing that made him a good priest - he couldn't listen. He couldn't help people in the way his position demanded. Suddenly it wasn't just his personal relationships that were limited - it was the very thing that made him swear his vows to begin with. He had some serious thinking to do.

Smitty found out in spite of John's keeping his condition to himself; and she was never in a worse state of mind then when the ceasefire was called, and suddenly walking away was more than just difficult - it was gut wrenching. She couldn't, in good consciousness, part ways without knowing he would be alright. Her aloud confession of

"I love you" fell literally on deaf ears, and Smitty's heart convulsed with the blow of emotional shrapnel. When the camp disbanded, and they couldn't avoid it anymore, she gave him the copy of her favorite book she'd kept in her duffel bag. Inside the front cover she had left a message:

Dear John,

I hope you don't find I'm overstepping. It makes me sad to think of what you've lost, and all I want now is to help you - and I don't know how except to be kind word to count on. I've included my parents' mailing address at the bottom of the page. I'll be living there for a few months until school starts. I hope you'll use it. I will never forget you.

Love,

Smitty/Elizabeth

Love - she'd said. Smitty said love. She loved him; and all she wanted from him was to know that he was alright.

Several months had passed since then. In his deaf condition, John had seen fit to become laicized. He had given up the rights and privileges of priesthood, but had also been relieved of many limitations. God had seen fit to take away John's priesthood, but now was opening the door to new blessings. Sitting in his sister's kitchen, with this ordinary yet extraordinary chocolate cake, he started his letter again:

My Dear Smitty,

It's truly remarkable the way we see the world now. In my case, a piece of chocolate cake seems extraordinary after three years of army food. My sister made it today (the cake), and I

wish you were here to have a slice with me.

It's just as remarkable how coming back from Korea has changed my life. Had someone asked me three years ago where I would be after the war, I certainly wouldn't have guessed to be laicized; nor did I ever imagine I would be writing a love letter.

I'm trying to remember the last thing I actually heard you say before the blast. I can't recall exactly what we were talking about, but I know we were laughing. Your laugh was full and musical, and I've only just realized I rather took it for granted. I love your quick wit, the glint that appears in your eye at something funny, and the way you see right through people. You always look for the best in people, and for the ways in which they can overcome the worst of themselves. During my time in Korea, there were many who came to me for comfort and reassurance - but very few that I could turn to. You, my dear, were always my first choice.

I remember how alone I felt in the days that followed my incident. I remember how afraid I was to face you - the last thing I wanted was to trouble you with my plight. I should've known better than to pretend I was alright - that you would see right through me. A trait you and I share is: Neither of us can stand to feel helpless when someone else is in pain - especially not someone we love. It's only since removing my cross and collar, that I've begun to recognize a solution that would not have been possible had I not been injured. I continue to be proven that God moves in mysterious ways. He has closed one door for me, but I believe I've found the one He opened in its' stead. I believe you, Elizabeth, are on the other side of that door. This is me knocking; and praying you'll answer. I hope that even with you returning to university to become a teacher, that you might have time to let me come see you.

Yours in faith and love,

John

Only a few weeks passed.

Dear John,

The response began,

I hope you've saved me a slice of that cake; we can share it when you get off the train. I'll be there waiting for you. I'll wear a big hat so you can see me in the crowd.