Lincoln barked once and shook seawater out of his thick fur.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
Lincoln jumped into the buggy after Tatum patted the spot next to her. Jordan tossed her a helmet and slid behind the wheel. Then Dusty gave them a push to get them going. Once the wind hit the kite, they were off. The buggy’s wheels kicked up sand as they zipped across the beach. Lincoln barked his approval after Jordan let out a rebel yell.
Tatum seemed nervous at first, but she soon began to relax. “Faster!” she yelled as the wind whipped her face. “Go faster.”
Jordan looked over at her, feeling the same sense of freedom she had experienced while running on the beach with Lincoln. “I’d love to, but there’s no gas pedal.”
After Jordan steered toward the water, Tatum ran her fingers through the spray. Then she brought her fingers to her mouth and licked the salty residue from her skin. Next to her, Lincoln could barely sit still. If he hadn’t been strapped into his seat, Jordan thought he might sprout wings and fly. Tatum’s laughter floated on the wind. The sound was more melodic than any music Jordan had ever heard.
Much too soon, their allotted time expired and they had to return the buggy. Using the techniques Dusty had demonstrated, Jordan tacked back against the wind. The move saved them from having to find an alternate mode of transportation back to the shop, where Dusty waited with his hands on his hips and an amiable grin on his face.
“How was it?” he asked.
“Awesome,” Tatum said as Lincoln rolled in the sand.
“I think someone wants to go again,” Jordan said after Lincoln leaped to his feet and shook himself off.
“I’m here seven days a week,” Dusty said, protecting his eyes from flying sand. “Come back and see me any time.”
“We will. Thanks,” Tatum said. “But this big guy needs a shower first.”
“I’ll take him.” Jordan braced her feet against the wheels of Tatum’s chair to keep it from moving as she transferred into it from the buggy. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Go.”
“Come on, boy.”
Jordan jogged toward one of the outdoor showers. She carefully rinsed salt and sand out of Lincoln’s fur, only to get soaked when he shook off the excess water before she could dry him off with a towel from her beach bag.
Standing on his hind legs, Lincoln put his front paws on Jordan’s stomach and stretched his neck forward as he tried to kiss her face. She leaned down so he could lick her cheek.
“You’re welcome. We’ll do it again soon, okay? I promise.”
He barked once as if to let her know he intended to make sure she kept her word.
“Did you have fun?” Jordan asked after she met up with Tatum on the sidewalk.
“My adrenaline’s still pumping even now. That was incredible, Jordan. I can’t thank you enough for this.”
“You don’t have to thank me. Seeing you this excited about something is enough.” Jordan knelt in front of Lincoln. “I already know what you think. You had fun, too, right?” He put his paws on her shoulders and gave her face another enthusiastic lick. “Glad to hear it,” she said, drying her cheeks with the back of her hand.
“If I buy you an ice cream cone, will you tell me what happened today?”
Jordan felt her smile begin to fade. “Are you trying to bribe me?”
“Whatever works.” Tatum drove to an ice cream shop near the north end of the beach and paid for their order. “Okay,” she said between licks of her rapidly melting scoop of butter pecan. “Spill.”
Jordan dipped her spoon into her cup of French vanilla. “I met Billie today. To say it didn’t go well would be an understatement. Grandma Meredith was cool about it—your aunt was, too—but I feel like I let them down.”
“Dang. You’re harder on yourself than I am. Today couldn’t have been that bad.”
Jordan nodded emphatically. “Yes, it could. I was trying to help and I ended up making things worse.”
“I doubt that. Just tell me what happened.”
Jordan took a deep, calming breath. “After I tossed some things in one of Billie’s dresser drawers in the trash, she went ballistic and clocked Grandma Meredith in the head with a paperweight. I thought Gran was going to need stitches, but one of the nurses bandaged her up and stopped the bleeding. I still think she’s going to end up with a scar, though.”
“Let me guess. You raided Billie’s stash.”
Jordan did a double take. “How did you know?”
“See this?” Tatum showed her a faded scar on the back of her left arm. “When I made the mistake of touching something in that drawer, she stuck a plastic fork in my arm.”
“Ouch.” Jordan had assumed the wound was war-related, not inflicted by a supposedly helpless old woman.
“It’s happened to all of us at least once. Welcome to the sorority.”
“Thanks.” Jordan laughed for the first time since they’d left the beach. “I don’t feel so bad now that I know I’m not the only member.”
“You were hesitant to see Billie because you didn’t want the real version to be different from the one you’d imagined. Paperweight tossing aside, how was the rest of your visit?”
Jordan thought for a moment. “It was good. I’m glad I went. Even though she’s a shell of the woman she once was, I could see why Grandma Meredith raved about her as a leader. Billie would lay her life on the line for the women who reported to her. Her only goal wasn’t to make herself look good, but to make them better at their jobs. I can understand why Gran’s so upset at the prospect of losing her as a friend. Seeing them together made me envious.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t have any friends like that.”
Tatum reached across the wrought iron table and grasped Jordan’s hand. “You do now.” After Jordan laced her fingers around hers, Lincoln reached up and placed a paw on top of their clasped hands, prompting Tatum to amend her statement. “Make that two of them.”
Chapter Fourteen
Meredith sat on the front porch of her rented house and sipped from a glass of sweet tea while Frances Turtledove watered her teeming flower beds in the frontyard of the bungalow next door. Frances’s gaudy garden hat looked like a fruit salad on steroids, but it certainly provided ample coverage to protect her pale skin from the sun.
“Your bougainvilleas are gorgeous, Frances. What’s your secret?”
“I talk to them every day, water them religiously, and make sure they have plenty of fertilizer.”
“Whatever you’re doing seems to be doing the trick.”
Frances beamed. “Don’t say anything to Aaron and Erma, Meredith, but I think I like living next door to you better than I do living next to them. Even if you are a Yankee.” She jerked on the garden hose to clear a kink that had slowed the flow of water to a trickle. “Aaron’s ears are so big he can hear a dog fart from a mile away. Half the time, Erma acts like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. And if I have to hear another word about how much money their son the doctor makes or how many houses he owns, I swear I will lose what’s left of my mind.”
Meredith covered her mouth with her hand to stifle the laughter that threatened to escape. She was sure Aaron and Erma could probably say the same thing about Frances’s daughter the lawyer—if they hadn’t already.
“Like they say, good fences make good neighbors. What’s Marion up to tonight?”
Like Beverly’s partner, Mary, Marion Turtledove didn’t say much, preferring to let his wife do all the talking.
“That man. Sometimes he makes me want to knock him naked and hide his clothes.” Frances jerked the hose again. Out of frustration rather than necessity since, as far as Meredith could tell, the water was flowing just fine. “He grouses so much I’m tempted to book him a room at the Peaceful Manor. If I did, then you could tell him hello for me the next time you pay Billie Daniels a visit.”
This time, Meredith let her laughter out instead
of trying to keep it inside. When her glass of tea was empty, she rose from her rocking chair. “I’d better check on dinner before I burn the house down. Take care, Frances.”
“You, too.” Frances waved so enthusiastically one of her floppy garden gloves nearly flew off her hand.
Before Meredith made it to the front door, she saw Natalie’s Bronco making its way down the street. She paused to wait for her. “What’s in the bag?” she asked after Natalie parked the car and began to walk toward the house.
Natalie held out the package she was carrying. “I was going to bring a bottle of wine, but after the story you told at the potluck about the effect wine has on you, I decided to bring two.”
Meredith’s cheeks warmed. When she saw what looked like desire in Natalie’s eyes, the rest of her body heated up, too. “If I had a dime for every time I heard that, I’d have ten cents.”
“At least I’m original.”
“You are that.” Meredith took the bag out of Natalie’s hands. A bottle of red wine and a bottle of white rested inside. “Have a seat while I open one of these and pour us a glass.”
“Is there anything I can help you with?”
“Don’t even think about it. Dinner’s almost ready. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
When Meredith came out of the kitchen with a glass of wine in each hand, Natalie had taken a seat on the slipcovered couch. Despite the chair’s comfort, Natalie looked like she felt out of place. She looked like Meredith felt the night she walked into Suzy’s. She looked like she wanted to leave. She looked like she wanted to stay. She looked like she wanted to revisit the past. She looked like she wanted to let it lie fallow.
Meredith handed her a glass of white wine and sat across from her. Natalie lifted her glass and downed half its contents in one long swallow. In Vietnam, Natalie had faced machine gun fire and mortar rounds with aplomb, but here, in this setting, she looked scared to death.
Meredith had hoped rekindling their relationship would be easy. Now she realized how difficult a task she faced. Natalie was settled in her life. Settled in her ways. Meredith’s visit had obviously prompted Natalie to re-examine both. She didn’t look comfortable with the process. Was she willing to take another chance on an idea Meredith had asked her to abandon long ago or had their years apart convinced her that they weren’t meant to be?
“Something smells good,” Natalie said. “What are we having?”
“Baked salmon, roasted asparagus, and rice pilaf. If we have room left, there’s rhubarb pie for dessert.”
“You must have gone back to the Bread and Butter. Beverly serves rhubarb pie every Thursday like clockwork.”
“I know. I’ve been there almost daily since the afternoon you introduced me to the place.” Meredith patted her middle. “Does it show?”
“Hardly.” Natalie’s eyes slowly traveled over Meredith’s body.
Meredith was wearing yellow Capri pants and a matching sleeveless top. The way Natalie was looking at her, though, she wished she had chosen something more revealing.
“You look as fit and trim in that outfit as you did when all your clothes were Army-issue green. What’s your secret?”
“I do an hour of yoga every morning and thirty minutes of Pilates each night. In between, I walk more than I drive and stay as active as I can. I try to eat right, but when I find places like Beverly’s where everything on the menu looks good to me but might not be good for me, I occasionally give in to the urge to have one of everything and worry about the consequences later.” She looked Natalie up and down, treating her to as thorough as inspection as Natalie had just given her. “The years have been kind to you as well. You used to run laps around us on the base. You look like you could still clock a five-minute mile.”
Natalie snorted laughter. “I’m too creaky for that now. Even in my dreams.”
“That’s funny. In my dreams, you’re still eight feet tall and bulletproof. You’re still the woman who runs toward danger instead of away from it. You’re still my knight in shining armor.”
Natalie’s gaze was challenging but transparent. Meredith could clearly see the questions in her eyes. If she had been Meredith’s knight in shining armor, why hadn’t Meredith allowed her to fill the role? Why had she cast George in the part instead? If Natalie had fought harder for Meredith’s affections, would it have made a difference? Would Meredith have chosen to follow her heart instead of bowing to the demands of societal pressure? Now that they had a second chance, would the outcome be different this time around?
But Natalie’s questions went unasked and, for the moment, remained unanswered.
“One thing you have never been is a damsel in distress,” Natalie said. “And I hardly think a confused woman wielding a paperweight constitutes an invading army.”
The reminder of the afternoon’s events prompted Meredith to stare into the depths of her wine glass as if she were a fortune-teller perusing a set of tea leaves. But she didn’t need to be able to predict the future to know what Billie’s held.
“She seems weaker to me. When I went back in to see her today, she slept through the rest of my visit. Her outburst this morning felt like a last-ditch effort to win a battle that’s all but lost. She’s raging against the dying of the light. It’s only a matter of time now, isn’t it?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
Meredith took a sip of wine for fortification. “I want to be there when it happens. Will you call me when her time draws near? I want to be there for her the way she was for me. For all of us.”
“I’ll make sure you’re notified when she makes the inevitable turn for the worse.” Natalie’s voice was clinical. As if she’d had entirely too much practice delivering the line to bereaved family members. Then her tone softened. “As a matter of fact, I’ll call you myself.”
“Day or night?”
“Day or night.”
“Thank you.”
Meredith was quiet for a moment as she tried to absorb the enormity of the events to come. Events that were bound to take place much sooner than either she or Natalie desired.
“Do you remember when Billie was wounded in Xom Que and she chose to stay with her team rather than cashing in a guaranteed ticket home?” Natalie asked. “She wanted to finish the job she started. Now it’s my job to make sure she does it with dignity.”
“No,” Meredith said, “it’s ours. Has she told you what kind of service she would like?”
“She wants to have a small memorial service in Savannah for friends and family. Then she would eventually like to have her ashes scattered at the base of the Wall in DC. She says she left a lot of friends behind when she left Vietnam and she wants to be reunited with them, if only in spirit.”
“A fitting final tribute. How would you like to be remembered when it’s your time?”
Natalie frowned as if she found the subject distasteful. “That’s a rather morbid question, don’t you think?”
“It’s the kind of question the soldiers used to discuss on an almost daily basis but you never would answer. Why?”
“For the same reason I refused to write my own obituary during a high school English assignment. I was afraid what I said or wrote would actually come to pass. I wanted my life to be beyond the scope of my imagination, not bound by what my fourteen-year-old mind managed to put on paper.”
“Has it?”
“Yes. Because when we left Vũng Tàu, I didn’t think I’d ever find myself sitting across from you again.”
Meredith’s heart stopped for a moment. Time seemed to stand still. She was transported back to Vietnam. Back to Vũng Tàu. She could feel Natalie’s lips on hers. Caressing. Exploring. Kissing her hello. Kissing her good-bye.
“I want to be with you,” Meredith had said that night, “but I can’t. I just can’t.”
She had wanted a family. She had wanted to live a “normal” life without the glare of accusing eyes questioning her choices. And Natalie had let her go. Now Mer
edith wanted—needed—Natalie to take her back. She didn’t know how much time she had left in this life, but she didn’t want to waste any more of it playing what if. She was ready now. Ready to stop existing and live—truly live for the first time.
A bell dinged in the kitchen, breaking the grip Natalie’s eyes held on her.
“Dinner’s ready,” Meredith said reluctantly. “I hope you’re hungry.”
Natalie followed her into the kitchen, where they fixed their plates. After they sat at the dining room table, Natalie unfolded her napkin and spread it in her lap. Meredith reached for her hand. They bowed their heads as Meredith asked the blessing.
“Lord, thank you for the food we are about to receive. Thank you for family. And thank you for friends long lost but newly found. For all these things, we pray in your name. Amen.”
“Amen,” Natalie whispered in a voice choked with emotion. She took a moment to gather herself before she attempted to say anything else. Smoothing her napkin with one hand, she lifted her fork with the other. “I’ve heard you talk about your granddaughter several times, but you’ve mentioned your daughter only in passing. Is there a reason for that?”
“Diana and I aren’t especially close. We never have been.”
“Are you estranged?”
“I wouldn’t say that. Our relationship is…complex. We’re like opponents in a political debate, saying how much we respect each other on one hand while refuting each other’s arguments on the other. The sad part is, no one wins.”
“Just like in an actual debate. Has it always been this way?”
“When Diana was born, the nurse placed her in my arms, I looked down at her, and I felt like I was meeting my best friend for the first time. As she began to grow up, it quickly became clear we were more like acquaintances. She was, without doubt, daddy’s little girl. She went to George for everything—approval, comfort, reassurance. I felt extraneous. The more I tried to build a relationship with her, the more she pushed me away.”
“Why?”
Meredith pushed what was left of her meal around her plate. “Because she realized very early on I was a fraud.”
The War Within Page 24
