She thought that breaking off her engagement—or whatever it was—with Brad did call for a party, but a real party with banners and food, champagne and music and lots of people. She smiled as she considered how far she’d come.
“What’s so funny?” Jazmine asked.
Shana instantly sobered. “Remember a few weeks ago, when you said I had issues?”
“Yeah.”
“One of those issues was Brad.”
Jazmine rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it!”
Shana laughed out loud. “I was just thinking I never really had a pity party over him.”
Jazmine cocked her head quizzically. “Do women always throw these parties because of men?”
“Hmm.”
Shana had never given the matter much thought. “Yes,” she said firmly. “It’s always about men.”
“That’s what I figured.” Jazmine shook her head sadly, as if this reasoning was beyond her.
They loaded up with chocolate-mint ice cream, and whipped topping for good measure, and headed out the door. Shana had to make a quick stop at the bank, but they were home before the ice cream had a chance to melt.
Within ten minutes, they were both lying on their backs, dressed in old flannel pajamas, studying the ceiling.
“Remember when Brad phoned you a little while ago?” Jazmine asked.
“Yup.” Shana didn’t want to dwell on Brad. She wanted to think about Adam and how much they were going to miss him. Brad paled in comparison to Adam Kennedy.
“Why did he call?”
Shana rolled onto her stomach and raised her head. “He realized the error of his ways.”
Jazmine rolled over, too. “Are you going to take him back?”
Shana didn’t even need to think about it. “No.”
Jazmine solemnly agreed. “He had his turn.”
Boy, did he!
“Uncle Adam is next in line.”
It occurred to Shana to explain that pity parties were usually wakes for relationships. This wake was for Adam and her. Shana was cutting her losses now, doing her best to accept the likely end of their brief romance and move forward.
“What if Brad came to Seattle?” Jazmine asked excitedly, as if that were a distinct possibility. “What would you do then?”
Shana flopped onto her back again. “Nothing.”
“Not a thing?”
“Not a single, solitary thing.”
“What if he offered you an engagement ring?”
Shana grinned. “First, I’d faint from the shock of it, and then I’d…I’d ask to see his ID. Make sure this was really Brad.”
“Would you cry?”
“I doubt it.”
“But you’d turn him down, right?”
“Wait a minute.” Shana pulled herself into a sitting position. “Is there any particular reason for all these questions about Brad?”
Jazmine sighed loudly. “I wanted to be sure you’re really, really over that rat.”
“Rat?”
“That’s what Mom called him.”
Shana smothered a giggle. “Hey, I thought we were throwing this party because of your uncle Adam,” she said. It hadn’t escaped her notice how cleverly Jazmine had changed the subject.
“We are.”
“So, why bring up Brad?”
Her question was met with silence, and then Jazmine ventured, “Remember how you knew Uncle Adam might be stationed in Hawaii and you didn’t tell me?”
“Yes, but what’s that got to do with—” She hesitated and drew in her breath. “Is there something you aren’t telling me?” she demanded, aware that she was repeating Jazmine’s earlier question.
Her niece sighed dramatically. “Promise you won’t be mad.”
“Jazmine!”
“Okay, okay. Brad phoned again. I answered and I told him you’re seeing someone else now.”
“You didn’t!”
Jazmine giggled. “I did, and you don’t want to know what he said about that, either.”
Chapter Sixteen
“What do you mean Brad phoned?” Shana demanded. “When? And why?” Not that she cared. Okay, she did, but only a little. He’d talked to her once, a few weeks ago, and she’d been polite and stiff and frankly had never expected to hear from him again. At one time, she’d dreamed about a big wedding with lots of bridesmaids all dressed in lovely pastel dresses of pink and yellow. Her sister and three of her best friends would’ve looked like a neat row of huge after-dinner mints. At least she’d spared them that.
“He called last week and I answered the phone,” Jazmine muttered. “We…talked. For a while.”
That sounded ominous. Shana could only imagine what Brad had to say to her niece—and vice versa.
“He told me he wants you back.”
“Of course he does,” Shana muttered. That made sense. Now that she was out of his life, he missed everything she’d done for him.
“When he asked how your social life was these days—that’s exactly what he said—I told him about Uncle Adam and he wasn’t very happy,” Jazmine continued.
“No,” Shana agreed. “He probably wasn’t.” Just like Brad to pump a nine-year-old for information.
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Jazmine muttered, “but I wanted Brad to know he lost out on the opportunity of a lifetime.”
That was a typically grandiose Jazmine remark, and Shana smiled. Still, it was gratifying to know Brad missed her, even if it was for the wrong reasons. He must’ve been shocked to learn she’d met someone else.
“I hope you aren’t mad.”
“No, but…it isn’t a good idea to be giving out personal information over the phone.”
“I know, but he kept asking me about your social life and if you were seeing anyone, and it felt good to tell him you were and that Uncle Adam is a lieutenant commander in the United States Navy.” This was said with a good deal of pride.
Shana bet that caused ol’Brad to sit up and take notice.
“I wish my mom was here,” Jazmine confessed suddenly. “I’m worried about her.”
Shana wrapped her arm around Jazmine’s shoulders and drew her close. “She seems to be in good spirits.” Or she had been until recently.
“She sounds happy when she e-mails me,” Jazmine said. “But sometimes I wonder if she’s telling the truth.”
The kid certainly had her mother pegged.
Jazmine leaned against Shana. “This has been good,” she said decisively. “It’s even better than a tea party. Except we didn’t watch a movie or eat our ice cream—but we can do that now. How about…the first Harry Potter movie? I’ve got the DVD.”
“Sure.”
“I’m going to miss Uncle Adam,” Jazmine told her sadly. “It won’t be the same without him.”
Shana could only agree.
Jazmine was asleep an hour later. She lay curled up on the sofa with an afghan covering her. Shana turned off the television set and logged on to the computer.
Sent: July 15
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: My love/hate relationship with men!
Dear Ali,
I hope you realize what a terrific kid you have. Jazmine and I have just spent the last two hours sharing secrets (plus eating ice cream and watching a Harry Potter movie).
Adam got his orders for Hawaii and didn’t even have time to say goodbye. Even worse, I got stuck telling Jazmine.
Trust me, I wasn’t too happy with him. I would’ve let him know how I felt about that, but I was in shock. Do transfers always happen this fast in the Navy? Never mind, he already explained that they don’t. Getting back to Jazmine. She took the news about Adam fairly well. I wasn’t sure what I expected and I know she’s upset, but as Adam said, she’s a Navy kid. She did ask if I knew in advance, and I had to confess that I did. Once I admitted I’d been holding out on her, her own heavily guarded secret came out.
Are yo
u ready for this? Our Jazmine had a conversation with Brad! Apparently he phoned and she informed him I was seeing someone else. I wish she hadn’t…. Well, to be honest, that’s not entirely true. He told Jazmine that he misses me. Interesting, don’t you think? Not to worry, I’d never go back to him.
Once we’d both confessed our secrets, we talked about you and discovered we’re both concerned. Jazz is afraid you’re hiding your feelings from her—and Alison, I have to tell you that your daughter has good instincts. I didn’t say anything, but I know you’ve been down lately. You refuse to answer my questions about Commander Dillon, and my guess is this involves him. I know, I know, you’ve already said it a dozen times—there’s nothing between you. Technically I’m sure that’s true, but…there’s more to the situation, isn’t there?
What you say or don’t say to Jazz is up to you, but she sees through you far too easily, so don’t try to pull the wool over her eyes. Jazmine would rather deal with the truth than worry about what’s troubling you. Oh, one last thing. The kid has graduated from tea parties to ice cream. You can thank me for that.
Keep in touch.
Love,
Shana
The following evening, when Shana arrived home from work exhausted, cranky and hungry for something other than pizza or canned chili, the phone rang. With unwarranted optimism, she opened the refrigerator and searched for inspiration—something easy and fast that would pass for healthy. Or sort of healthy. The wilted green pepper, leftover Chinese fried rice and half can of clam chowder weren’t appealing.
The phone was still ringing and Shana looked around to see where Jazmine had disappeared. Normally she didn’t need to worry about answering the phone because her niece leaped on it like a hungry cat on a cornered mouse.
“I’ll get it,” she called out when she saw that the bathroom door was closed. Grabbing the phone, Shana cradled it against her shoulder and turned to the cupboard in a second attempt to find a supper solution.
“Hello.” The cupboard, stacked with canned foods, offered little in the way of ideas.
“Shana.”
“Adam?” In her excitement she nearly dropped the phone. She’d hoped she’d hear from him, but hadn’t dared believe. He missed her, he said; he’d been thinking about her. Instantly her heart went on alert. She was afraid to put too much weight on a single phone call and yet so pleased it was all she could do not to leap up and down.
“How’s my girl?” he asked in a low, sexy voice.
Shana sighed and leaned against the wall. “I’m doing great.” Especially now that she’d heard from him.
“I was asking about Jazmine,” he teased.
Shana laughed. “She’s great, too. I want you to know we had a pity party over you.”
“A what?”
“Never mind—it’s a girl thing.” She felt so buoyant, so happy, she couldn’t prevent a giggle from slipping out.
Adam went directly to the reason for his call. “I got an e-mail from Jazmine and it started me thinking.”
“You received an e-mail from her already?”
“Actually she sent this before I flew out. Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Jazz said that Brad phoned you recently.”
“Jealous?” she asked lightly, dismissing the question because he had no reason for concern. It would be manipulative to play one man against another, and she refused to do it.
“A little,” he admitted with obvious reluctance. “I need to know if you’re serious about Brad.”
“You’re phoning me all the way from Hawaii because you’re afraid of a little competition?” she asked. “Adam, you should know better than that.”
“Competition doesn’t frighten me, but I have to know where I stand with you.”
“I can’t believe you’re talking about Brad,” she said, letting her bewilderment show in her voice.
Adam held his ground. “According to Jazmine, you have what she calls issues and one of those issues is Brad, and I figured—”
“Brad,” she interrupted, “is out of my life.”
“Apparently no one bothered to tell him that. I know of two times he’s contacted you. Are there others?”
Shana was completely dumbfounded now. “You men are all alike,” she snapped. “You’re so…so territorial. Why are we even having this conversation?” She lifted the hair from her forehead and pressed her hand there as if to contain her outrage—or her growing headache. Unfortunately it didn’t work. She could think of only one reason Brad had revealed any new interest, and that was because he believed she’d become involved with another man. He considered Shana “his.” Now Adam was doing the very same thing.
“Are you upset with me?” he had the audacity to ask.
“You must be joking.” If she had to tell him, then there was something lacking in her communication skills. “Yes, Adam, I am upset. You don’t seem to care about me. Your big concern is that I might be tempted to go back to Brad.”
They both took a moment to let the sparks die down. Shana was afraid to say anything more, afraid the conversation would deteriorate further and they’d reach a point of no return.
The bathroom door opened then and Jazmine stepped out, hair wrapped in a towel.
“Here,” Shana said, shoving the telephone receiver toward her. “It’s your uncle Adam. Talk to him.”
“Shana, we aren’t finished yet,” she heard him yell.
“Oh, yes, we are,” she said loud and clear. She just couldn’t resist.
Jazmine tentatively accepted the phone, but the conversation was short. Angry, and uncertain how to cope with her anger, Shana paced across the kitchen floor to the window and stood there, staring out at the garden.
Jazmine turned to her after she’d hung up the phone. “Should I get out the ice cream?”
Shana managed to smile. “You know, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”
Chapter Seventeen
Commander Frank Dillon figured he had to be the biggest jerk alive, but in his own defense, his behavior toward SMO Karas was motivated strictly by self-preservation.
A week after he’d gone back to sick bay, he was released. Unfortunately, it wasn’t soon enough. Every second he spent in close proximity to Alison was pure agony. More times than he wanted to admit, he had to remind himself that she was married. Married with a capital M. All he had to do was glance at the ring to remember she was off-limits. Granted, she’d switched it to her right hand, but that act of deception actually bothered him more.
He’d fallen for her, and fallen hard. Whenever he saw her, his heart did a free fall—like a paratrooper diving from a plane—until he saw that damned ring. Then he knew it was time to pull the rip cord and put an end to his ridiculous fascination with the woman.
This sort of thing didn’t happen. Not to him. He was particularly confused by the fact that although Alison wore a wedding band, she’d sent him some pretty clear signals—signals that said she was interested and available. While he was undeniably tempted, Frank felt sickened by her lack of respect for her husband and her vows. He wanted nothing more to do with her.
Back on the bridge at the end of his shift, Frank knew the crew had been eagerly waiting for the USS Woodrow Wilson to make its port call in Guam. Shore leave had been granted.
During his years in the Navy, Frank had sailed all over the world, and his favorite destination was the South Pacific. He’d read many accounts of the action here during World War II, as well as histories of the explorers.
“You headed ashore?” Commander Howden asked, joining Frank on the bridge.
Frank, still feeling the effects of his surgery, had decided against leaving the carrier. There would be ample opportunity on other voyages. “Not this time.”
“A few of us are talking about golf and dinner. Why don’t you come along?”
“Thanks, I’ll give it some thought.” Frank wouldn’t willingly admit it, but he felt too weak. A round of golf would p
robably do him in.
Howden started to walk away, then unexpectedly turned back. “I met the senior medical officer the other day—Alison Karas,” he said casually.
Frank stiffened at the sound of her name.
“She’s a good woman. I knew her husband.”
Frank’s jaw tightened at his use of the past tense. “Knew?”
Hal nodded. “He was killed a couple of years ago in a training accident. He’d been aboard the USS Abraham Lincoln. You heard about it,” he said.
“Yes—but I didn’t make the connection.” Frank spoke quietly.
“No reason you should, I suppose,” Howden continued. “I just realized it myself.”
Frank felt angry with himself for the false assumptions he’d made. Alison was a widow and all along, all this time, he’d believed she was married and unfaithful. He hated everything he’d been thinking about her, hated the way he’d magnified her supposed transgressions in his mind. He knew why he’d done it—because he was afraid of what might happen.
As soon as possible, Frank went down to sick bay. He needed—no, wanted—to apologize. He couldn’t explain his behavior, but he could let Alison know he regretted what he’d said and done. Perhaps the best course of action was to leave things as they were, but he was unwilling to do that.
He found Lieutenant Rowland on duty in sick bay. Not an enviable task when the majority of his shipmates were touring paradise. The lieutenant snapped to attention when Frank came in.
“Can I help you, Commander?”
Frank returned the salute. “At ease. I’m looking for Ali. Do you know where I might find her?”
“Ali?” The young officer couldn’t hide his surprise. “I’m sorry, sir, she’s gone ashore.”
Frank had guessed as much. “Did she happen to mention where she was going?”
“No, sir, but I suspect she’s headed toward the Farmer’s Market. A few of the other women officers mentioned they were planning to check it out.”
Navy Husband Page 14
