Have you ever tried using a chat room? It's a way to type to each other in real time. There's a chat room called LDSChat with the password: Moroni, if you click this link.

Marc.

He pasted the link, hit SEND, and the agony kicked in before the screen even refreshed. He should have reread that e-mail. He'd probably sounded overeager, and she'd definitely be scared off by that.

After an hour of lurking in the chat room with no sign of Angela, Marc emerged to forage in his freezer for a Hot Pocket. His roommate, Jake, sat on the couch reading for his homework and waved without looking up.

"No Chrissie tonight?"

"I hope not."

"Aw, just buy her a ring." He looked up, eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Right, because that'll fix things."

"She's the most stubborn girl I've ever seen."

"She and my mother believe that God's in favor of us getting married, so who cares about trivialities like my opinion?"

Jake chuckled. He was Mormon by upbringing, but hadn't been to church in as long as Marc had known him, and hadn't gone on a mission. He thought the whole prayer to God and getting detailed answers was a sign of lunacy, and in the current situation, Marc couldn't argue.

Right then, there was a knock at the front door. "Hey!" chirped Chrissie's voice. "I brought dinner."

Jake got to his feet, shook his head, and retreated into his bedroom.

"Come on, bro," Marc called after him.

"She is your problem."

"You don't even want to help me eat her food? She's a good cook."

"For a crazy person, sure." He shut his door behind him.

Marc answered the door, but kept his foot braced against it so that Chrissie couldn't open it all the way.

"I'm not feeling well," he lied.

"I made tuna casserole, and blondies for dessert."

"Thanks, but I'm good."

"No, you just take them. You can put them in the fridge or whatever."

"Chrissie, you don't need to cook for me."

"I know. I chose to. And I don't mind. You know how much I like to cook."

"Well I do mind, okay? I do."

"Just take the food. It's better than that microwave crap you always eat."

"I'll see you later." He shut the door in her face.

"I'm leaving it on the doorstep," she hollered through the door. "Let it spoil if you want, I guess."

Back in his room, he glanced at the chat room, then turned away, only to spin around and look again.

BellaFeliz: Is Marc in here?

Marc dove across the room and hit the keyboard, hard.

Marc: Yep! Hello!

BellaFeliz: Hello. Nice to see you.

Marc: Nice to see you, too.

The next line from Angela was in Spanish.

BellaFeliz: So how are you?

Marc switched languages too.

Marc: All right. Just working hard at school.

BellaFeliz: Are you in university?

Marc: Yes.

BellaFeliz: What's your degree in?

Marc: I'm not sure how to say "computer science" in Spanish.

BellaFeliz: No, I understand. That's very exciting. So that's why you know how to use e-mail and chat rooms.

Marc: This is the kind of stuff I'm interested in.

BellaFeliz: And now you know it works as far away as Chile.

Marc: Yep, but that's not why I wrote to you.

He winced. That was way too obvious. She'd shy away for sure.

BellaFeliz: So do you have a girlfriend?

Marc had to reread that one, to make sure that he'd seen it right.

Marc: No, I don't. Do you have a boyfriend?

BellaFeliz: No.

Marc: Oh good, no one to come kick my teeth in for talking to you.

BellaFeliz: You are funny.

Marc: I'm really glad you logged in.

BellaFeliz: Yes?

Marc: Yes.

BellaFeliz: Me too. This is fun.

Marc: You asked if I'd ever be back in Chile for a visit.

BellaFeliz: Yes?

He took a deep breath, as he knew his answer could put her off.

Marc: Not for a long time. I can't afford it.

BellaFeliz: Well, my cousin lives in Utah and I am going to visit her in a couple of weeks. Is Provo close to where you are?

He had to wipe his eyes and read that again. She was coming here? To the United States? He'd be able to see her?

Marc: Not too far!

BellaFeliz: Maybe I can visit you?

Marc: Or I can come see you.

He ignored the pointed remarks of other people in the chat room who didn't like the unending stream of Spanish. She filled him in on the details of her trip. She'd be in Utah for a month to help her cousin with newborn twins.

That was plenty of time to really get to know each other.

BellaFeliz: Okay, it's late. I will talk to you in here some other time?

Marc: Yes, see you later.

BellaFeliz: Good night.

A knock on his door five minutes later startled him. He'd been reading and rereading the chat room conversation until he'd put himself in a trance.

"Dude," said Jake's voice, "phone. It's your mother."

Marc groaned as he got up from his desk and accepted the phone from his roommate's hand. "Hi-"

"Marc, what's going on? Why don't you even talk to Chrissie when she does something nice like make you dinner?"

"Did she call you, Mom?"

"No, her mother did. She called home. That is a sweet girl, Marc, and she waited for you through your whole mission. Do you know how rare that is?"

"Listen, I'm sorry, but I'm dating someone else now."

"Not the girl on the Internet, from your mission?"

"I gotta go." He hung up fast.

Before he turned in for the night, he did remember to retrieve the food Chrissie had left him off the doorstep. She was an excellent cook, but she spent so much time at it and was the only person Marc knew who actually used the wheat-grinder attachment on her KitchenAid.

Angela was online when Marc got back to his apartment after class the next day and he talked to her for an hour, during which she sent him three pictures of herself, looking gorgeous, toned, and tanned. She really was out of his league, but while he might not have the looks of her usual suitors, he bet he had many times the income potential.

That night he shaved off his scruff and even tried to work out a little. Jake, passing through, gave him an indulgent smirk.

Two days later, as he took his time to get to class, he noted the mountains towering over the campus and the pioneer-built city of Salt Lake spread across the Wasatch Front below. How had he never noticed how beautiful it was? He could even make out the temple, jutting up from its spot on Temple Square.

Someone bumped shoulders with him, knocking his books out of his hand, and when he turned to see who it was, Rick Gardner, a guy on the football team, was glaring back over a well-muscled shoulder. He wasn't from Bend, but rather a little town outside of Bend. He'd gone to the next high school over, but now apparently he was inserting himself into the Bend High School pecking order to help remind Marc of the fact that he was at the bottom.

Marc brushed it off. If a bunch of Idaho hicks had it in for him, he didn't care. They would matter less and less as his life went on.

BellaFeliz: Do you miss Chilean food?

Marc: Oh yeah. There's a guy from Chile in my class, and we complain about how much we miss it all the time.

BellaFeliz: I'll have to cook for you, then.

Marc: And I'll have to take you to some American restaurants.

BellaFeliz: To eat hamburgers?

Marc: Yeah, if you want. Or I need to take you someplace to get a good milkshake. Utah has some of the best milkshakes in the world.

BellaFeliz: Sounds like fun. So I arrive in ten days at 3 p.m.

Marc: Do you want me to pick you up?

BellaFeliz: No, I don't want to bother you.

Marc: No, let me pick you up. That way your cousin's husband doesn't need to take time off work. And it'd save your cousin from having to drive.

BellaFeliz: You're sure?

Marc: Positive.