Dammit, everything was so complicated! She didn’t understand her own feelings, and certainly not his. All these contradictory emotions—anger and yearning and regret. Well, she had six months to think about the divorce and how she should proceed. Ian had time to think, too. His leaving was good for them both, she told herself. Still, she had to admit she hated the idea of not seeing or talking to him for half a year.
Ever since the news broadcast, Cecilia had thought about what she should’ve said the day they met at the cemetery. She was sorry she’d been so quick to take offense and realized Ian hadn’t been trying to upset her when he asked about the credit card. He’d been clumsy. It occurred to her later that he was no more skilled at expressing his real feelings than she was. She wished she’d hugged him before they parted. It would have felt good to have his arms around her again.
Cecilia was getting ready to leave for the night when her father came looking for her.
“Did you hear about Ian?” he asked.
“Hear what?”
“He might be back.”
“Ian?”
“You said he was on the George Washington, didn’t you?”
Cecilia frowned in confusion. “You mean the carrier’s returning to Bremerton?”
“That’s the way it sounds. I heard two sailors talking, and they said there’s something wrong with the navigational gear.”
Cecilia knew she shouldn’t be pleased, shouldn’t listen to gossip, either. She’d heard rumors such as this before, and they hadn’t been true.
“You can ask them yourself,” Bobby said with a shrug.
“I think I will.” She entered the bar, which by this time was thick with cigarette smoke. Two sailors sat at the counter, nursing mugs of beer.
Cecilia walked over to them. Both men turned to her, smiling in welcome.
“Bobby here just told me you have some information about the George Washington,” she said.
The heavier of the two nodded. “Join us?”
“No, thanks, I’m on my way home. Can you tell me what you know?”
The two shared a look of disappointment. “I got a buddy on the George Washington,” the first one said, “and he e-mailed me that they’re having some technical problems.”
“Then it’s coming back?” Eagerness crept into her voice.
“Maybe. He thinks so, but—”
“For how long?”
“He isn’t sure it’s returning to port. Won’t know for a day or two. Why do you ask?”
“My husband’s on board,” she said quickly.
Both men looked at her left hand, where she continued to wear the plain gold ring.
“You’ll probably hear from him soon,” the first sailor said.
“But don’t get your hopes up,” the second added.
Even though Cecilia knew he was right, she couldn’t help feeling hopeful. Ian might be back—but only God and the Navy knew for how long.
The phone rang just as Olivia was putting the finishing touches on her makeup for her dinner date with Jack Griffin. She glanced at her watch; she still had fifteen minutes before he was due to pick her up.
“Hello,” she said cheerfully, half expecting it to be her mother. Charlotte had fallen completely under Jack’s spell and had been singing his praises ever since they’d met last Friday night.
“It’s Stan.”
Her ex-husband always did have a no-nonsense way about him. He got directly to the point. “You’ve heard from James?”
Olivia had spoken to her son and his wife the afternoon Justine had delivered their news. It had been an emotional conversation, filled with congratulations and with tears, on her part and Selina’s. She’d called again after her head had cleared, asking all the questions she’d forgotten the first time. “I spoke to him twice last week,” she responded.
“Then you know.”
“That he’s married and about to be a father? Yes.”
“What’s all this about James converting to Catholicism?”
“You’ll have to ask him yourself.” She paused, wondering why he’d brought up that particular aspect of their son’s news. “You’re not upset about it, are you?” Olivia would be astonished if he was. Stan had never been too concerned with religion; he didn’t object when she attended worship services or brought the children, but it wasn’t something that interested him. Sunday mornings were for golf games, in his view.
“I couldn’t care less,” he said. “I’m just surprised.”
“That’s what I thought,” she murmured. “He sounds happy, don’t you think? When did you speak to him?”
Stan hesitated. “Just a few minutes ago. He seemed to be in a rush so I figured I’d get the story from you.”
Her ex-husband apparently believed she knew more than she did. “I’m not sure what to tell you. Our son is married and we’re both about to become grandparents for the first time.”
Stan chuckled, sounding slightly chagrined. “I was beginning to doubt that was ever going to happen.”
The tension left her and she smiled. The circumstances weren’t what she would have preferred, but she was absolutely delighted at the prospect of a grandchild.
“I suppose you’re going to spoil that baby rotten.”
“I certainly plan to,” she said. But Stan was the indulgent one, and they both knew it.
“I wish James had been a bit more forthcoming with the details,” he muttered.
Olivia concurred. “I’ve decided to fly down once the baby’s born and meet Selina and her family and welcome her to ours.”
“Good idea. I cut a five-hundred-dollar check as a wedding gift.”
Stan had always been excessively generous and she said so. “I sent flowers,” she added ruefully. “I’ll bring a real wedding gift when I visit.”
“He’s the first one of the kids to marry—and he’s expecting a baby. It was the least I could do.”
The doorbell chimed and Olivia was surprised to realize they’d been talking for fifteen minutes. “That’s my dinner date,” she said.
“You’re dating?” There was no jealousy in the question, just curiosity.
Olivia laughed softly. “Don’t sound so shocked.”
“I’m not. Who’s the lucky fellow?”
“Jack Griffin. He’s new in town.”
“Don’t keep him waiting, then.”
“Goodbye, Stan. It was good to talk to you.”
“You, too, Olivia, and listen…”
“Yes?” she said, eager to get off the phone.
“Have a good time. You deserve a decent man in your life.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, and replaced the receiver. She glanced down at the phone, overwhelmed by an unexpected rush of regret. They’d had a good marriage once…. The divorce had been final years ago, but she’d never stopped loving Stan. They’d had their problems—every marriage did—only she’d believed that the bond between them was strong enough to survive a crisis. Unfortunately she’d been wrong. Still, she’d always feel connected to him; they shared children and a history, and nothing could change that.
She hurried to answer the door. Jack stood there, looking the same way he did every time she saw him. He wore a raincoat, black slacks and a blue shirt with the top two buttons left unfastened. She was beginning to wonder if he owned more than one set of clothes.
“Ah,” he said, his eyes sweeping over her. “You look fabulous. Wow.”
Assuming something formal, Olivia had gone to a lot of trouble. The navy-blue wool dress was new; the straight skirt was a flattering mid-calf length, and the bodice, decorated with a row of gold buttons, was formfitting. She purposely wore heels and dark hosiery, contrasting the outfit with the pearls her father had bought in Japan fifty years ago.
“Am I overdressed?” She asked the obvious. They hadn’t discussed where they’d be dining.
“No,” he said. “I’m underdressed.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Where are we going for dinner?” She should have asked much sooner.
Looking embarassed, he told her, “I was thinking about the Taco Shack.”
The restaurant, on the highway outside town, was a roadhouse of sorts, where patrons ordered at the counter and served themselves. The food was some of the best in the area; it was also fast and cheap. The salsa was freshly made every day and known all over the county.
“I’ll change,” Olivia offered quickly, and left the room before Jack could protest. So much for a hot date. She’d been thinking they’d linger over wine and candlelight, and he’d envisioned tacos and margaritas. Fortunately she was a flexible person.
When she returned, Olivia had changed into blue-green plaid wool slacks and a matching green turtleneck sweater. “That’s better,” she said, hoping to put him at ease.
“You don’t mind?”
“I love the Taco Shack,” she assured him, and it was the truth. She should’ve known better than to expect fine French dining. Jack was a taco kind of guy.
He looked vastly relieved as he led the way to his vehicle. She could tell he’d made an effort to clean off the front seat of his car; he’d tossed everything in the back, which was littered with wadded-up bags from fast-food establishments, old newspapers, books and a variety of other junk she didn’t get a chance to see.
Jack seemed oblivious to it all. By nature, Olivia was neat and orderly. One look at his Ford Taurus told her Jack Griffin was her exact opposite.
Olivia had to fumble with her seat belt before she managed to secure it. It was obvious he didn’t often have anyone riding with him.
“Have you ever had the stir-fried jalapeños at the Shack?” he asked as they headed out of town.
“You can stir-fry them?” Olivia asked, thinking that sounded more like Chinese cooking than Mexican.
“Sure. Just until the skins start to blister. Then they squeeze lime juice over top, sprinkle on seasoned salt—and serve them with plenty of water.”
“You eat whole jalapeños?”
“You don’t?”
Olivia enjoyed a bit of spice now and then, but she wasn’t interested in experiencing pain as part of her meal. “Food isn’t supposed to hurt.”
Jack laughed. “You have a sense of humor. I knew there was a reason I liked you.”
Olivia liked him, too.
He pulled into the gravel parking lot outside the Taco Shack and hurried around to help her out. Not until he slammed the car door did she notice that it was dented and didn’t close properly.
Ever the gentleman, he held the door to the roadhouse for her. They walked up to the counter, and stood in line; the place was deservedly popular. Olivia studied the menu, hand-printed on a large board suspended from the ceiling. She ordered the combination plate, which included a cheese enchilada and a bean burrito, and iced tea. Jack ordered something she’d never heard of, plus a side of the stir-fried jalapeños. That suggested he wasn’t planning to kiss her—definitely a disappointment.
