by Geri Krotow
“How did you know I wanted to see it?”
“What self-respecting physical therapist wouldn’t?” If she could’ve whipped the words back into her mouth, she would have. As his relaxed expression fell back into the perpetual frown he’d worn since Dottie’s death, she groaned.
“Drew, I’m sorry. This is a day to have fun, to try to forget about all the crap that’s going on. It’s a chance to remember what it’s like to live without fear, and with genuine hope that all of this will work out.”
“Gwen, I appreciate what you’re trying to do here. But I have a murder investigation going on in my workplace—my clinic. The clinic I’ve built from the ground up.”
“And I have to start facing the reality that my odds of adopting Pax are getting lower by the day. Even though I played by all the rules, even though I saved his life I might not get to be the one he calls ‘Mommy.’ So what’s your point?”
She took off her sunglasses so he could see her eyes, see her stubborn refusal to accept his emotional turmoil as an excuse not to take a break from it all.
He let out a breath that was curiously close to a laugh.
“You’ve got me there. But no movie about bones or muscles—or anything else that’ll remind me of work.”
“Fair enough.”
* * *
THE FERRY DOCKED at Mukilteo on the mainland, and Gwen put the car into drive, prepared to move down the ship’s steep ramp and onto the pier.
“I should be driving.” He’d always taken the wheel on ferry crossings. Gwen was an experienced pilot but balked at driving in such tight spaces. They’d laughed about it and Drew loved to tease her.
Before. Before it all changed... “I’m fine. Don’t be afraid!” She turned from him back to the windshield and slammed on the brakes, catapulting them both to the edge of their seat belts’ resistance and stopping the car from crashing into the tiny Fiat in front of them.
“Whoops! Don’t worry, I just did that to keep you guessing.” She found reverting back to their presplit joking banter came too easily.
“Hell, Gwen, you saved an entire crew from a crash, ditched a plane in rough seas but you still can’t drive worth shit.”
“Don’t get your panties in a wad over it.”
Dead silence as she drove down the ramp. As soon as the wheels hit the concrete pier they both laughed.
“I haven’t heard that one since we were junior officers.”
“It helped to have a sense of humor then, didn’t it?” Navy flight school was filled with stress and unrealistic but necessary expectations. Each flight built upon the last completed sortie or mission. Students who failed once risked being out of the entire program within one or two more training flights. There’d been no room for failure.
“Yes, a sense of humor goes a long way in life.” He had his hands on his thighs and he stared straight ahead. “I’ve lost my sense of humor.”
“No, you haven’t, Drew. It’s hard to joke when you think your life is falling apart.” She knew; she hadn’t laughed a whole lot in the jungle.
They enjoyed the quiet of the car.
“Did you feel like Tom Hanks in Castaway over there?”
“Sometimes. When I was hungry and didn’t have any food other than what I found growing on the jungle floor. I never had to kill to eat—I’m lucky I met the woman who took us in. She kept Pax and me fed and gave me time to regroup and heal from my crash injuries.”
“You never mentioned you’d been hurt in the ditch.”
“Nothing life-threatening, obviously. But I had some scrapes and bruises, that’s for sure. The cuts could’ve gotten infected if I hadn’t been able to rest and let them heal properly. I have scars on my legs and the back of my right arm. I remembered feeling some kind of metal brush against my arm when I dragged Lizzie out of the fuselage. It wasn’t until I was on the beach that I realized what a gash I had.”
“We’ve never discussed you saving Lizzie.”
“What’s to discuss? She was one of my crew members. I’d never leave anyone behind.”
“Of course not—but there is irony in it.”
Gwen drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “She avoids me at all costs, Drew. We made our peace with each other once we were on deployment—had a girl-to-girl talk about that night, about a lot of things.” Lizzie had admitted to being completely mortified by her behavior, and promised she’d never cause Gwen or the squadron any more trouble like that. “She’s the best TACCO in the squadron at this point. She’ll get command as long as she doesn’t have a major screwup between now and the selection board.”
“Sounds like you’ve had a positive influence on her.”
“I’m glad she made it back and that she’s doing as well as she is.” The significance of saving her crews’ lives wasn’t something she dwelt on. She occasionally thought about it in the quiet, early-morning hours when she couldn’t sleep. She’d done what she had to do.
“I’m glad you made it, Gwen.” What would have been too intimate, too revealing in any other setting, was a sincere and simple statement in the confines of her car.
“I am, too.”
Surprisingly, she meant it.
* * *
DREW FORCED HIMSELF not to order Gwen to the side of the road so he could escape the car and run for miles until he was too exhausted to think. Being in such close quarters made his focus too narrow, made his awareness of her painful. He wanted to hold her, to kiss the scars she’d talked about, to make up for how rough he’d been with her that first day.
No, he wanted to lose himself in hot sex with Gwen.
Who was he kidding? It wasn’t just sex.
He wanted to make love to her.
He was losing it. He hadn’t called sex anything but sex since their marriage imploded. Since he’d been too tired to fight for it any longer. Since he’d realized Gwen was better off without him, without the encumbrance of a marriage that required so much work.
Guilt niggled at him for not telling her about his insight into Dottie’s death but he couldn’t, not yet. He’d called Cole to make sure it was okay to go off island, and Cole reminded him to keep it all quiet for now.
“Do you ever wonder why it was so much work to stay together?”
He’d surprised her; she stiffened and her fingers slid to the top of the steering wheel, tightening their grip. He knew her hands like his own. But hers made him hard with a single stroke, a well-placed grasp.
“It wasn’t that much work, Drew. Not for the first several years. In some respects we were spoiled. We were focused on getting stationed together, and that probably kept us from dealing with the normal stuff that comes up for couples who aren’t military and don’t have the mobile life we do.”
“Civilian couples have to transfer, too.”
“Yes, but they don’t have to worry about being deployed downrange for a year, not knowing if they’ll come back in one piece, with a prosthetic limb or in a body bag.”
He winced. Her frankness had always cut through the trivialities, but he didn’t want to dwell on the fact that she’d survived more than her share of life-threatening situations.
“I never thought of it that way. If we’d lived together, never moving, for the entire ten years, don’t you think we would’ve gotten to the same point?” She glanced at him and her eyes were assessing. Did she think he couldn’t handle her response?
“Hang on.” She turned her blinker on and changed lanes, passing a slow-moving, old pickup loaded to the gills with furniture and suitcases, all secured with bungee cords.
“We might not have. But there’s no telling. Maybe if we’d been together all the time, never worried about who was going where, never wondering how we were going to get you through PT school, we would’ve gotten bored with each other.”
Her father’s death had been one of the roughest spots of her young life.
“What do you want me to say? He committed suicide—the great navy man who’d survived so much, only to be brought to his knees by his alcoholism and his mental illness. It was tough.”
“You’re not him, Gwen. You have your mother’s strength.”
“Thank God for that. But I have to admit I don’t feel very strong right now.”
“You’re still processing everything. I’m not convinced you’ve accepted that you’re really back here, safe and sound.”
“I’m never going to feel that way until I have Pax in my arms again.” She paused. “Unless I have him in my arms again.”
She spoke quietly, with no accusation. She’d fought so hard when she first got back to get him onboard with supporting her in the adoption. Maybe she’d finally accepted that—as he’d told her himself—he wasn’t the best recommendation for her cause.
At his silence she sent him another glance. I-5 wasn’t a highway to take one’s eyes off, and he shifted, leaning toward her.
“I’m fine. Just getting used to the idea of you being a mother.”
“Is it really that difficult to imagine?”
“It’s never been difficult to imagine.” An image of Gwen, her belly large with their child, threatened to undo his composure. “I’d always hoped we’d have a family.”
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you.”
He didn’t stop the bark of laughter that shoved its way past the lump in his throat.
“Not for either of us. But if you’re sure this is what you want, that it’ll make you happy, I hope it all works out.”
“That’s what I can’t explain, Drew. It’s beyond ‘wanting.’ It’s...an imperative. Pax needs a mom, and I was there for him at the right time.”
“Makes sense.” He knew in his bones that otherwise she wouldn’t have stopped to consider having kids until it was too late—she was on a fast career track. That, and her need to prove she could do it all on her own.
“I know what you’re thinking.”
“I doubt it.”
“Let me guess. You think that if fate hadn’t put this baby in my arms, forced me to live with him in the jungle for months, I wouldn’t ever have become a mother.”
“You might have.” He knew better than to have this conversation on the highway, with her at the wheel.
“No, let’s face it. I don’t have time to date, much less find someone to spend the rest of my life with. Add the fact that I’d be moving every two years for the next ten, until I retire—”
“You could retire at twenty.”
“But not as an O-6.”
“There’s give and take to everything, Gwen. You could have a life partner who’d help you with the parenting. You don’t have to do everything alone.”
“Speaking of give and take, we have to pick a neighborhood and a place for breakfast. Any preference?” She maneuvered the car into the fast lane, while completely ignoring his salient point.
He didn’t argue with her change of subject. It was too hard on both of them to keep bringing up the past choices they’d made, all the might-have-beens.
“As long as there’s a place to eat, I’m happy.”
* * *
“YOU USED TO love pancakes.”
“Still do.” Drew dug into his stack of apple-pecan pancakes while Gwen relished her salted-caramel crepes. They sat in a cozy booth at a favorite Seattle haunt; she’d been delighted to learn via the internet that not only was the place still in business, but it had expanded its menu to include brunch during the week.
“Carb heaven.”
“We’ll walk it off, I’m sure.” She heard the note in his voice. Resignation.
They used to burn off calories in other ways.
Stop.
It had to be the fact that she’d been living under the same roof with him, that she had to see him, hear him, smell him, every day since she’d returned. Not to mention that first day back. It was as though all the sexual urges and needs she’d repressed since they’d gone their separate ways had spilled out.
It was painful enough to face the truth that she wasn’t as good at doing things on her own as she used to be. Regardless, she could not allow her sexual needs to get her in too deep with Drew.
“Well, we do have all day.” She swigged her ice water and studied him. “You’re enjoying your pancakes, obviously.”
He looked up and gave her a wide grin. “You know it.”
Finally. The intensity of the last month retreated into the background, if just for this moment. Drew was eating, talking, smiling.
Relaxing.
“Do you want another order?”
“No, but you could use more.”
She glanced down at her plate, almost empty, and laughed. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was. I’ll save the rest of my appetite for some madeleines from Nordstrom’s.”
“No packaged cookies today. Let’s go find a bakery.”
Gwen laughed again and reached across the table to wipe syrup from Drew’s chin. It was pure reflex. Only when he grasped her wrist and held tight, forcing her to meet his eyes, did she recognize that she’d broken her promise to herself.
Her desire for him was getting the better of her.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“CAN YOU CALL Ro and see if she’d mind taking Nappie for the night?” Drew’s warm breath tickled her ear as they looked at a particularly evocative display in an art gallery they stumbled upon.
“You’re having so much fun that you want to stay?”
His eyes sparkled in response, and Gwen swallowed. Why not? They were two consenting adults. Once they got back on the island Drew might lose his life’s work or at least his business, and she’d be gaining a new life or so she hoped—Pax. They’d go their separate ways then.
Just for today I can let it go and enjoy this.
“I’ll text her.”
Gwen stepped away from his heat, his touch, to pull out her phone. She needed space or she’d jump him right here. Her fingers shook as she punched in the message. Her best friend would stop her if she was being crazy, wouldn’t she?
Can you keep Nappie tonight? Also, give Rosie fresh water and a grape.
The phone vibrated with Ro’s reply before Gwen could drop it back into her tote.
Should I be popping champagne?—Ro
Get your mind out of the gutter. Thanks for doing this for me—Gwen
My pleasure. Enjoy and forget about the past. Let go of it.—Ro.
Didn’t ask for therapy, just take care of the dog and the bird —Gwen
I’m not charging you for my advice, but heed it, anyway. Love you!—Ro
“Can she do it?”
Drew’s eyes were intent, his hands in his jeans pockets, which drew her gaze to what lay between those pockets.
Anticipation stroked her insides, pooling heat between her legs.
This was going to be interesting.
“Yes, Ro said it’s no problem.”
One side of his mouth lifted in a wry grin. “That’s not all Ro said, is it?”
“No.”
He chuckled and reached for her, sliding his arm around her waist and urging her to walk with him. “I’ve always liked Ro.”
“You wouldn’t talk to her for the longest time.”
“What, when we were splitting up? Hell, no, I wouldn’t. You two have some kind of blood-sister/warrior-woman thing going on. I’m not stupid enough to get in the middle of that.”
“Even if she never really took sides?”
He grunted. “Ro
and Miles are our friends, yes, but she’s your friend first. That’s just the way it is.”
They walked past the contemporary artists’ room and wandered into the display of Impressionist paintings, Gwen’s favorite.
“I love the colors!” She studied a canvas in the Manet collection on loan from Paris. The blues and greens calmed her nerves, the vibrant yellows made her smile, made her want to heed Ro’s suggestion and let go.
Just this once.
“I could’ve done that. A splash here, a splotch there.” Drew spoke in a low, serious tone.
She giggled. “Like your work in the master bathroom?”
“Ouch, take the knife out of my back, will you?” He smiled, and she stared at him as the memory of painting the house together came back in a rush of light, laughter and love.
Love.
She’d walked in on him trying out her favorite colors—blue, yellow and green—on the bathroom wall with a scrunched-up plastic grocery bag. They’d watched a home-improvement show a few weeks earlier and she’d commented on how much she’d like that “marbled” effect on a wall in their house.
It’d been two days before their anniversary. She’d been putting in long hours at work, assigned to the patrol wing on shore duty prior to being selected for her department head tour. That was several months before everything had fallen apart between them.
There’d still been a chance to prevent what had happened, or more accurately, what hadn’t happened.
“Hey, that was one of my best gifts.”
“It would’ve been, if it had looked any good.”
“Hey, it wasn’t that bad!”
“It was worse than if we’d had the dog paint the wall with her paws.”
“Yeah,” he said with a shrug, “it was pretty ugly.”
Drew had wanted to surprise her but he was in a hurry. He hadn’t allowed the paint enough time to dry, so instead of a marbled effect, the wall looked as if he’d applied a glob of gray paint.
