A Soldier Saved--A Clean Romance

by Cheryl Harper

  Stumped by her reaction, Jason returned the hug, his arms tugging her close enough that he could smell her shampoo. She was close enough to kiss, but there was no romance in the room.

  He’d killed that by making her cry with his sad story.

  When she eased back, Angela’s face was composed. “Post-traumatic stress. Is that what caused your retreat at Domino Park?”

  Okay. This was another peeve. People who wanted to diagnose him without all the facts.

  “Not really. I don’t know. If it makes you feel better to call it that, go ahead.” Jason held up his hands. “I don’t have to put a label on every little thing. I lost a leg. I can’t do everything you want. Now you know. Now you have to decide how to deal with it. This is why I don’t talk about it.” His pulse was pounding. The anger was there, but it wasn’t wild or unfocused. Every word was razor-sharp. “The few people who know? They don’t need a diagnosis.”

  “Because they’ve had the same experiences,” Angela said. “They’ve been there. I’m glad you have someone who can listen the way you want.”

  That was a stinging blow. Was he being unfair? She’d reacted as he’d expected. This was the result he’d feared, and it hurt worse than he’d believed it could. Confusion. Anger. And loss. It was a bad mix.

  “This weakness is new to me. When it catches me off guard like that and I fall, there’s this instant anger that boils up. I need to put myself back together to get rid of it. Sometimes that means a quiet, cool place.” Always. It always meant a place like a cave, but Angela didn’t need to know that. He’d hit her with enough. “Let’s end this topic for today.” Once he’d absorbed this, he’d have more patience for all her questions.

  “Having a body that lets you down might be new to you, but a lot of us mere mortals have to learn how to handle falling gracefully. I do it often enough I know the drill. Laugh no matter how much it hurts, brush yourself off and dance like it never happened. You should try it.”

  Stung, Jason started to argue and then snapped his mouth shut.

  She didn’t understand him.

  “Says the woman who doesn’t need any man.” Jason snapped his fingers. “Oh, except for the ‘adventure coach’ who will be able to accomplish that most important thing of all. Not parasailing. Not bungee jumping or skydiving or swimming with sharks, because you will never do those things. How do I know? I know because you don’t want to do them. If you did, you would already have shown the world. You moved away from your family to build the career you love. You don’t need anyone’s company for something you want badly enough.”

  Angela tilted her chin up. “What about the most important thing? What’s that?”

  “Proving it to your ex-husband.” Jason leaned back, ready for her to disagree. “That’s what you really want. The captain would have worked very well for that. A busted-up old vet who can’t manage to dance and chew gum at the same time won’t impress the ex.”

  It was the thing he’d been most afraid of all along. He’d spent entirely too much time thinking about a woman who could do better whenever she liked.

  “Well.” Angela stood and held out a hand when he made a move to follow her. “No need to walk me out.”

  “Guess that’s a good thing,” Jason snapped, ready to argue. The tension between them was wrong. “For someone who showed up without an invitation, you’re in a big hurry to leave.” The throbbing in his head matched his leg.

  “You’ve made it clear you’ve got other plans now.” Angela moved closer to the door. Was she ever going to meet his eyes? “I hope the things you love don’t cause you any falls, Jason. Have fun at the birthday party.” She shut the door quickly and he was left with silence.

  Birthday party?

  He rested his head against the cushion behind him, the familiar paint job the only distraction he could see.

  Then he remembered Mira saying something about a niece or a nephew or both having a party at an arcade.

  Angela assumed he was going with Mira because...

  Jason pinched his nose in his best imitation of his mother.

  Then it hit him with a flash. She thought he and Mira were dating.

  If they were a couple, she had every reason to play off all the conversations they’d had because... What had she said?

  “Everything has changed.” He’d taken that as a comment on his leg. She’d meant his friendship with Mira.

  Angela had read more into Mira’s conversation than he’d realized.

  And he didn’t have her phone number to clear it up.

  Since she’d never asked for his number, either, Jason had to decide whether he wanted to keep pushing this thing between them. Pushing usually led him to a hard fall.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  BY THE TIME she made it home from Concord Court, Angela was exhausted. For a relatively short drive, she’d had plenty of time to swing through a wide range of emotions.

  Okay. Two emotions.

  Anger had arrived first. It had jumped into the passenger seat as she’d turned over the ignition, and it had never left. She didn’t need a lecture about rearranging her life to prove something to her ex-husband. It was silly. Worse, if she’d done so, it could have been so much fun to have Jason along for the ride.

  He’d been right. She didn’t need him.

  His own inability to see that his leg was no reason to sit out life... That was what turned up the heat under her temper.

  He was afraid of his own feelings. She should have said that.

  Not that it mattered. Not anymore.

  And then disappointment chimed in from the back seat on the drive home. She’d anticipated more time with Jason, a guy who made benches exciting.

  No matter how many times she tried to convince herself that Jason and Mira made sense together in a way the two of them didn’t, disappointment elbowed back in.

  “There’s got to be a way to chase this mess away,” she muttered to herself as she unlocked her door. A long Saturday night of wrestling with anger and disappointment would be terrible.

  As she paced in front of the television, she turned her phone over and over, as if it was the talisman with the answer.

  “In the movies, it’s always girls’ night out. That’s the answer for man troubles.” She grimaced at “man troubles” coming out of her own mouth.

  How weird would it be to call her crush’s mother to ask if she wanted to go out?

  Since Mae Ward was the only face that came to mind when she pictured all the local contacts in her phone, she shrugged and found her number. “Can’t be any stranger than driving to Concord Court without an invitation. You are really broadening your dating skills today.” She made herself into a tiny ball, the world’s smallest target, while the phone rang. If Jason and Mae were discussing her unexpected visit to a guy who had found a great girl or replaying their argument, she did not want to know.

  “Why, Angela, I was just talking about you.” Mae cleared her throat. It was easy to picture her pointing at the phone to show Jason who she was talking to. “What can I do for you?”

  Two quick choices sprang to mind.

  She could pretend this was an accidental pocket dial, end the phone call and go hide in the bathroom.

  Or she could do what she’d called to do. “Mae, I know this is short notice, but I have two tickets for a mermaid show with dinner included. Would you be interested in going with me? They’re for tonight.” She had them because she’d purchased them while Jason was in the shower, just in case she needed to have actual plans to back up whatever lie she told him to get out of there with her pride intact. The sports car tour she’d originally planned to claim was way too rich for her cover story.

  The long pause concerned her.

  “I couldn’t think of anyone else who would enjoy this like you would, Mae.” That much was true. Jason’s mother didn’
t let things like what other people thought bother her.

  “Well, now, that’s very sweet.” Mae cleared her throat. “Do I need a swimsuit?”

  Angela laughed. “No, we aren’t part of the show. If you’ll text me your address, I’ll pick you up.”

  “I’d love to, but I’ve already made plans with this new fella I met on the singles’ cruise.” There was a pause. “I’m guessing Jason’s a no-go on this one, is that right?”

  Angela sighed. “We need a break from each other for a minute.” She’d said it to keep his mother happy. Then she realized it was true. He had to get a handle on his own issues, and she would prove to the whole world and Jason Ward that she’d meant what she said all along. She could be happy on her own. “But that’s okay. When you have some time, let’s get out our calendars. I really do want to go parasailing. If you’re up for being my partner, I want to do it.” She would spike this particular ball for the whole world, both men who’d said she’d never do it, to see.

  Mae gasped. “Oh, honey, you’ll be so happy you did. Next week okay? I don’t know what you have to do to get ready for school, but I am purely dying to get back up in the air.”

  Relieved, Angela smiled. “Let’s do it Monday. I’ll book it and send you the time. How’s that?”

  “Fabulous! Now you go out and have yourself a big time, sweet girl,” Mae said. “You won’t always be single, hon. Better do everything you dreamed of while you got the free time. That’s my philosophy.”

  Angela was pleased as she ended the call. Before she could second-guess her intentions, she found the website and paid for the parasailing tour of the Bay. Some of the bad emotions were receding.

  Then she realized she was heading out to watch a mermaid show on her own.

  And she was fine with it.

  What did a person wear to a mermaid dinner theater?

  If Greer was here, she’d moan about how silly the whole thing was. It might be, but there was no way Nashville, even with as many charms as Music City claimed, had a mermaid dinner theater.

  So she slipped on the dress she would have chosen for a date, if she were so inclined, and picked out her most comfortable sandals. Angela plugged the address into her phone and settled behind the wheel.

  And her own gasp of happy surprise filled the car as she turned into the parking lot. Triton’s Theater was over the top in the way that only the very best tourist traps can be. The billboard pointing the way to the door featured a beautiful mermaid with shimmering blue-green scales on her tail. Since there was not much of a building, the billboard was a necessary hint on how to get into the place. Angela immediately stepped into an elevator that took her down. Under the sea. The walls were glass with a view of the growing depths of water, but it had to be the best theme-park illusion.

  Didn’t it?

  After she was seated, she glanced around. One corner of the room featured a sunken ship with eerie lights. Columns of coral were scattered here and there, and the walls were covered in murals featuring sea life. If it were possible to have fabric tablecloths in an underwater restaurant, it would look just like this place. “I have to take pictures.”

  She was still laughing as she placed her dinner order. Maybe it wasn’t “authentic” water, but this was exactly her speed as far as sand and water went.

  The lights dimmed and a loud splash clouded the water in the tank that took up the center of the room. When the three mermaids struck a pose, Angela picked up her phone and immediately took a picture. The show was a mix of synchronized swimming, campy theatrics, lights and music. About halfway through, Angela gave up counting how many mermaids were in the tank. They had to rotate in and out, but it all happened so seamlessly that it was impossible to tell where one actor ended and the next began. After a ten-minute performance, the music trailed away and the house lights came back up as Angela’s waitress slipped her plate in front of her.

  “That was amazing,” Angela said. “Can you even imagine the career path that leads you to becoming a performing mermaid?”

  The waitress shrugged. “That’s not something you train for. Life and luck brings you to the job.”

  “Yeah. And really, that’s how the best jobs work, right?” Angela said as she examined her plate. “Seafood. Seems like a strange choice. What if the mermaids stage a swim-out in protest?”

  “You here by yourself tonight, honey? Did you get stood up?” The waitress’s smile was there, but Angela would have called it “playing along.” She probably listened to similar jokes every day she showed up to work.

  “No,” Angela said as she picked up her water glass, “this is just for me.”

  “Don’t see too many singles, mainly happy women and bored men, but you enjoy your meal. If you want a little more excitement above the water, we’ve got free tickets for a haunted boat tour. You can see some wrecks and ruins, one or two unexplained phenomena, and hear some great stories.” The waitress held out a ticket. “My boyfriend’s the captain. He does a much better ghost than King Triton. Want one?”

  Angela nodded. She hated ghost stories. Like, even more than sand, but this was an opportunity.

  By the time this show was over, a full twenty minutes of spectacle that involved a romance between two merpeople, lots of exciting lights and music, a mediocre tilapia entrée and a complimentary slice of key lime pie, Angela was more content with her life and choices than she had been in a while.

  No daughter to whine about missing her favorite podcast or whatever.

  No husband to explain the literary fallacies conflating sirens with mermaids.

  Just the ability to grin and wonder at a wide, weird world she hadn’t known existed before that night.

  All that was left was to find an awesome caption.

  “Does this seashell bring out my eyes?” she muttered as she made the short drive to Captain Dave’s Spooky Swamp Tour. “Zumba until your fins fall off.” The last tour of the evening, the one that all the big spooky fans wanted to be on was about to leave. She quickly typed, New water aerobics class. Think I’m going to like it. She put up a few of the pictures and then dropped her phone in her purse.

  This time, there were no signs pointing the way. There was very little light until the boat appeared out of the darkness. This captain was dressed like he’d helmed an eighteenth-century whaling ship, even in the Florida heat.

  He helped her down into the boat. Angela handed her ticket to a young girl dressed as if she’d been first class on the Titanic. “If you’re going to take photos here, you might want to do it now. We’re headed out into the darkness.” Her monotone delivery. Was that intentional? Angela shook with an almost delighted shiver. She hated ghost stories. But apparently ghostly actors thrilled her.

  “All three of us, one selfie.” The girl held out her hand, so Angela fished out her phone and then moved to stand behind her. The captain loomed. That was the only description she could come up with. When she saw the photo, she understood. He was almost out of the frame.

  As if no one knew he was there to include him in the shot.

  Like a ghost. Woo-hoo.

  “I’m going to post this with ‘Made a new friend.’ Is that good?”

  The downside to being on her own was that she couldn’t pretend she was doing anything other than talking to herself.

  The old-timer in the seat next to hers tipped his head to the side. “Good, sure. But great?” He leaned forward. “Try ‘Anybody seen my boo-y-friend?’ Because he’s a ghost, and you’re by yourself. Get it?”

  Yeah. She got it. He didn’t have to point it out, though. Since this was her show, she went with her original idea and then squeezed into her seat. When she realized she was near the water, she almost tried to convince the old guy to switch. Dark plus the edge of the boat plus the unknown of the water plus the power of suggestion would equal a big case of the willies. Then she noticed the smal
l panel of controls behind his shoulder.

  Knowing the show was orchestrated would calm her nerves. Surely it would.

  Before she could explain to the old-timer that good boo-y-friends were as difficult to find as real phenomena, the captain stood up and began his story. Now he had a thick Massachusetts accent. Apparently, he’d been marooned, which meant left to die by his mutinous crew, on one of the unnamed keys in the year 1832. That was how he knew so much about the ghosts. He’d had a long time to meet them. The boat silently pulled away from the dock, each small ripple and shift in the water filling in the space between the growing darkness, and the cool breeze on the water sending a shiver down Angela’s back.

  “Already scared?” the old guy asked. “We haven’t gotten to the good stuff yet.”

  Angela turned to say something, but saw him reach behind his shoulder. Foggy green light lit up the bottom of the boat and the Japanese couple in front of Angela gasped. She leaned closer to him. “Nothing to be scared of. I’m a fan of special effects.” He shot a frown at her and held one finger over his lips.

  For an hour or so, the captain talked. His stories were told in English first and then Spanish. The night was dark, but on the water, the moon shone brightly on deserted stretches of beach, the homes built above the water at Stiltsville, and along the old Florida homes grouped tightly together on the banks of the sheltered bay. More than once, she clamped down on nerves. The people on the boat didn’t help. The gasps and shrieks that accompanied the light hitting a wispy shadow in the trees entirely too close to her side of the boat almost got to Angela, but she closed her lips tightly, certain the old guy was waiting for her reaction.

  She might have nightmares for days. This was definitely a date activity. Someone alive and warm needed to wrap his arm over her shoulders and fast.

  How they’d done this tour, with actors and special effects and whatever it was that could turn into a bouncing orb of light and the whispered word beware at the right time—it was good. Impossible to distill in pictures, but there was the idea for a poem that kept popping up. Something about finding the role you were born to play.