Читать книгу Her Kind of Man: Navy Husband / A Man Apart / Second-Chance Hero - Debbie Macomber - Страница 10

First thing Monday morning, Shana drove Jazmine to Lewis and Clark Elementary School to enroll her. Shana had to admit her stomach was in knots. The school yard was jammed with kids, and a string of vehicles queued in front, taking turns dropping off students. Big yellow school buses belched out diesel fumes as they lumbered toward the parking lot behind the building.

Shana was fortunate to find an empty parking space. She accompanied Jazmine into the building, although the girl walked ahead of her—just far enough to suggest the two of them weren’t together.

The noise level inside the school reminded her of a rock concert and Shana felt the beginnings of a headache. Or maybe it was caused by all those students gathered in one place, staring at Jazmine and her.

The school bell rang and like magic, the halls emptied. Within seconds everyone disappeared behind various doors and silence descended. Ah, the power of a bell. It was as if she were Moses, and the Red Sea had parted so she could find her way to the Promised Land, or in this case, The Office.

Wordlessly Shana and Jazmine followed the signs to the principal’s domain. Jazmine was outwardly calm. She gave no sign of being ill at ease. Unlike Shana, who was on the verge of chewing off every fingernail she owned.

“This is no big deal,” Jazmine assured her, shifting the backpack she carried. It was the size one might take on a trek through the Himalayas. “I’ve done this plenty of times.”

“I don’t feel good just leaving you here.” They’d had all of one day together and while it was uncomfortable for them both, it hadn’t been nearly as bad as Shana had feared. It hadn’t been good, either.

When they took Ali to the airport, Shana had been the one in tears. Mother and daughter had hugged for an extra-long moment and then Ali was gone. It was Shana who did all the talking on the drive home. As soon as they were back at the rental house, Jazmine disappeared inside her bedroom and didn’t open the door for hours.

Dinner had been a series of attempts on Shana’s part to start a conversation, but her questions were met with either a grunt or a one-word reply. Shana got the message. After the first ten minutes, she said nothing. And nothing was what Jazmine seemed to appreciate most. They maintained an awkward silence and at the end of the meal, Jazmine delivered her plate to the kitchen, rinsed it off, stuck it in the dishwasher and returned to her room. The door closed and Shana hadn’t seen her again until this morning. Apparently kids this age treasured their privacy. Point taken. Lesson learned.

“This must be it,” Shana said, pointing at the door marked Office.

Jazmine murmured something unintelligible, shrugging off the backpack and letting the straps slip down her arms. Shana couldn’t imagine what she had in that monstrosity, but apparently it was as valuable to the child as Shana’s purse was to her.

“I was thinking you might want to wait a bit, you know,” Shana suggested, stammering, unable to identify her misgivings. “Not do this right away, I mean.” The students she saw in the hallway didn’t look particularly friendly. Jazmine was only nine, for heaven’s sake, and her mother was headed out to sea for half a year. Maybe she should homeschool her. Shana considered that option for all of half a second. First, it wouldn’t be home school; it would be ice-cream parlor school. The authorities would love that. And second, Shana was completely unqualified to teach her anything.

“I’ll be all right,” Jazmine said just loudly enough for Shana to hear.

Maybe so, but Shana wasn’t completely convinced she would be. This guardianship thing was even harder than it sounded. The thought of leaving her niece here actually made her feel ill.

Jazmine’s eyes narrowed accusingly. “I’m not a kid, you know.”

So nine-year-olds weren’t kids anymore? Could’ve fooled Shana, but rather than argue, she let the comment slide.

Enrolling Jazmine turned out to be surprisingly easy. After Shana completed a couple of forms and handed over a copy of her guardianship papers, it was done. Jazmine was led out of the office and into a classroom. Shana watched her go, forcing herself not to follow like a much-loved golden retriever.

“It’s your first time as a guardian?” the school secretary asked.

Shana nodded. “Jazmine’s been through a lot.” She resisted the urge to mention Peter’s death and the fact that Ali was out at sea. Instinctively she realized that the less anyone knew about these things, the better for Jazmine.

“She’ll fit right in,” the secretary assured her.

“I hope so.” But Shana wasn’t sure that was true. There were only a few weeks left of the school year. Just when Jazmine had managed to adjust, it would be time for summer break. And what would Shana do with her then? It was a question she couldn’t answer. Not yet, anyway.

With reluctance she walked back to her parked car and drove to Olsen’s Ice Cream and Pizza Parlor. She’d thought about changing the name, but the restaurant had been called this for the last thirty years. A new name might actually be a disadvantage, so she’d decided to keep everything the same for now.

Shana’s day went smoothly after her visit to the school. She was on her own now, her training with the Olsens finished. They insisted the secret to their pizza was the tomato sauce, made from their special recipe. That recipe had been kept secret for over thirty years. Only when the final papers had been signed was Shana allowed to have the recipe, which to her untrained eye looked fairly unspectacular. She was almost sure her mother used to make something similar for spaghetti and had gotten the recipe out of a “Dear Abby” column years ago.

There was a huge mixing machine and, following the Olsens’ example, she went into the shop each morning to mix up a batch of dough and let it rise. Once the dough had risen, it was put in the refrigerator, awaiting the day’s pizza orders. The restaurant opened at eleven and did a brisk lunch trade. How much or how little dough to make was complete guesswork. Shana’s biggest fear was that she’d run short. As a consequence she usually mixed too much. But she was learning.

At three o’clock, Shana found herself watching for the school bus. Jazmine was to be dropped off in front of the ice-cream parlor. From noon on, she’d constantly checked the time, wondering and worrying about her niece. The elementary students she’d seen looked like a rough crowd—okay, maybe not the first—and secondgraders, but the ones in the fifth and sixth grades, who were giants compared to Jazmine. Shana just hoped the girl could hold her own.

Business was constant—people waiting to catch ferries, high-school students, retired folk, tourists. Shana planned to hire a part-time employee soon. Another idea she hadwas to introduce soup to the menu. She’d already experimented with a number of mixes, both liquid and dry, and hadn’t found anything that impressed her. Shana was leaning toward making her own from scratch but her experience in cooking large batches was limited.

A bus rolled into view and Shana instantly went on alert. Sure enough, Jazmine stepped off, wearing a frown, and marched inside. Without a word to Shana, she slid into a booth.

“Well,” Shana said, unable to disguise her anxiety, “how was it?”

Jazmine shrugged.

“Oh.” Her niece wasn’t exactly forthcoming with details. Thinking fast, Shana asked the questions her mother had bombarded her with every day after school. “What did you learn? Anything interesting?”

Jazmine shook her head.

“Did you make any new friends?”

Jazmine scowled up at her. “No.”

That was said emphatically enough for Shana to surmise that things hadn’t gone well. “I see.” Glancing over her shoulder, Shana sighed. “Are you hungry? I could make you a pizza.”

“No, thanks.”

The bell above the door rang and a customer entered, moving directly to the ice-cream case. Shana slipped behind the counter and waited patiently until the woman had made her selection. As she scooped chocolate chip-mint ice cream into a waffle cone, she realized something was different about Jazmine. Not until her customer left did she figure out what it was.

“Jazz,” she said, startled, “where’s your backpack?”

Her niece didn’t answer.

“Did you forget it at school? We could run by to pick it up if you want.” Not until the parlor closed at six, but she didn’t mention that. During the summer it wouldn’t be until eight o’clock; she didn’t mention that, either.

Jazmine scowled even more ferociously.

Shana hadn’t known how much fury a nine-year-old girl’s eyes could convey. Her niece’s anger seemed to be focused solely on Shana. The unfairness of it struck her, but any attempt at conversation was instantly blocked.

It was obvious that someone had taken the backpack from Jazmine. No wonder the girl wasn’t in a happy frame of mind.

Feeling wretched and helpless, Shana slid into the booth across from her niece. She didn’t say anything for several minutes, then gently squeezed Jazmine’s hand. “I am so sorry.”

Jazmine shrugged as if it was no big thing, but it was and Shana felt at a loss. Without her niece’s knowing, she’d speak to the principal in the morning and see what could be done. She guessed it’d happened on the bus or off school grounds.

“Can I use your phone?” Jazmine asked.

“Of course.”

Jazmine’s eyes fleetingly met hers as she pulled a piece of paper from her hip pocket. “It’s long distance.”

“You’re not calling Paris, are you?”

The question evoked an almost-smile. “No.”

“Sure, go ahead.” Shana gestured toward the phone on the back wall in the kitchen.

Jazmine thanked her with a faint smile. This counted as profuse appreciation and Shana was nearly overwhelmed by gratitude. Despite their shaky beginning she was starting to reach this kid.

“I’m phoning my uncle Adam,” Jazmine announced. “He’ll know what to do.”

This uncle Adam seemed to have all the answers. She hadn’t even met him and already she didn’t like him. No one could be that perfect.

On Monday afternoon, Adam Kennedy opened the door to his apartment near Everett Naval Station, glad to be home. He’d just been released from the naval hospital, where he’d recently undergone rotator cuff surgery. His shoulder throbbed and he felt so light-headed he had to brace his hand against the wall in order to steady himself. He’d be fine in a couple of days, but at the moment he was still shaky.

The apartment was dark with the drapes pulled, but he didn’t have the energy to walk across the room and open them.

It wouldn’t be like this if he had a wife, who’d be able to look after him while he felt so weak. This wasn’t the first time that thought had occurred to Adam. He’d never intended to be a thirty-two-year-old bachelor.

Adam sank into his favorite chair and winced at the pain that shot down his arm. Leaning his head back against the cushion, he closed his eyes and envisioned what his life would be like if he was married. A wife would be fussing over him now, acting concerned and looking for ways to make him comfortable. Granted, if comfort was all he wanted, he could pay for it. A wife—well, having a wife meant companionship and sharing things. Like a bed…It also involved that frightening word, love.

If he was married now, she’d be asking how he felt and bringing him tea and caring about him. The fantasy filled his mind and he found himself smiling. What he needed was the right woman. His track record in that department left a great deal to be desired.

He’d started out fine. When he graduated from college he’d been engaged, but while he was in Officer Candidate School, Melanie had a sudden change of heart. Actually, she still wanted to get married, just not to him. The tearful scene in which she confessed that she’d fallen in love with someone else wasn’t a memory he wanted to reminisce over, especially now. Suffice it to say, his ego had taken a major beating. In the long run, though, Melanie wasn’t that great a loss. If she had a roving eye this early in their relationship, it didn’t bode well for the lengthy separations a Navy career would demand of their marriage.

The thing was, Adam wanted children. One of his proudest moments was when Peter had asked him to be Jazmine’s godfather.He took his duties seriously and loved that little girl, and he’d felt especially protective of her since his friend’s death. He hadn’t heard from her in a while and wondered how she was doing after the recent move to San Diego. He’d have to get in touch with her soon.

Adam had envied Peter his marriage. He’d never seen two people more in love with each other or better suited. They were about as perfect a match as possible. Adam suspected that fact had been a detriment to him in his own quest for a relationship. He kept looking for a woman as well suited to him as Ali had been to his friend. If such a woman existed, Adam hadn’t found her, and he’d about given up. It wasn’t Ali he wanted, but a woman who was his equal in all the ways Ali had been Peter’s. A woman with brains and courage and heart. At this stage he’d take two out of three. Ali had brought out the best in Peter; she’d made a good man better.

A sense of sadness came over him as he thought about Peter. Adam had a couple of younger brothers, Sam and Doug, and the three of them were close, but Peter and Adam had been even closer. They’d met in OCS, Officer Candidate School, kept in contact afterward and later were stationed together in Italy. During weekend holidays, Peter and Ali had him over for countless dinners. The three of them had sat on their balcony in the Italian countryside drinking wine and talking well into the night. Those were some of the happiest memories of his life.

Then Peter had been killed. Adam had been a witness to the accident that claimed his best friend’s life. He still had nightmares about it and experienced the same rush of horror, anger, frustration he’d felt at the time. He’d gone with the Casualty Assistance Counseling Officer to tell Ali that her husband was dead. In his heart, he’d promised Peter that he’d look out for both Ali and Jazz but the Navy hadn’t made it easy.

Ali was currently stationed at the hospital in San Diego and he was in Everett. He phoned at least once a month to check up on them and Jazmine called him every now and then when she needed to talk. He always enjoyed their conversations. Peter would be proud of both the women in his life, he mused. Jazmine was a great kid and Ali was a wonderful mother.

Adam noticed the blinking light on his answering machine. He knew there were more messages than he had the patience or endurance to deal with just yet. He’d leave it until morning when he had a fresh supply of energy.

He sighed. He wasn’t used to feeling like this—despondent and weary. Coming home to an empty apartment underlined a truth he didn’t want to acknowledge. Lieutenant Commander Adam Kennedy was lonely.

He stared blankly across the room, half toying with the notion of a romantic relationship with Ali. It didn’t take him more than a second to realize it wouldn’t work. He loved Ali—like a sister. Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to view her as a marriage prospect. She was his best friend’s widow, a woman he admired, a woman he thought of as family.

Yet…he wanted what she’d had, what she and Peter had shared, and the deep contentment their marriage had brought them.

By morning, he would’ve forgotten all these yearnings, he told himself. He’d lived alone so long now that he should certainly be accustomed to his own company. When hewas at sea, it was a different story, since hewas constantly surrounded by others. As a SupplyOfficer he was normally stationed aboard the Benjamin Franklin. Unfortunately the Franklin was currently headed toward the Persian Gulf. Until his shoulder healed, he’d be twiddling his thumbs behind some desk and hating it.

After a while Adam felt better. His head had stopped spinning and the ache in his shoulder wasn’t quite as intense. It would be easy to close his eyes and sleep but if he slept now, he’d spend the whole night staring at the ceiling.

A wife.

It was something to consider. Maybe he should resume his efforts to meet someone, with marriage in mind. The time was right. His parents wanted more grandchildren and he was certainly willing to do his part. According to Ali, he was an excellent candidate for a husband and father. She’d tried any number of times to fix him up, but nothing had ever come of her matchmaking efforts.

A wife.

He relaxed and smiled. He was ready. All he needed now was the woman.