“You could get kicked out of the Army?” she asked, and he nodded. “Prison?” She struggled to spit out the word.
“It’s possible. Especially since he’s overseas, tending to the needs of the good ole’ U.S. of A.” His lips twisted into a cynical smile. He fidgeted and careened against the back of the booth.
“I know what flying means to you.” She choked back the hurt that came with that statement because it meant they could never be together. “I’ll always love you, but I won’t ask you to risk your career or your life for me. I won’t let you do that.”
She looked away but spied Jack in her peripheral vision. His hand reached across the table, inching toward her. She withdrew her arm quickly, careful not to let him touch her.
She snuck a peek and saw the hurt and longing laying naked in his eyes. He was probably contemplating that very thing. He’d never be able to live with himself if he broke the Army’s Golden Rule—stealing another man’s wife.
“I’d give it up in a minute...if you asked me to.”
“I don’t want you to have to sacrifice flying for me.” She hated that thought.
“Sacrificing one love for the other, isn’t that what I’m doing regardless?”
“Well, I’d rather you hate flying than me, later on down the line.” She tried to laugh, but it came out as a whimper.
Jack chuckled.
“We’ll always have Paris, huh?” she supposed with an inferior shrug and a nervous giggle.
“Paris?”
“Casablanca.”
“Oh, right. A Bogart film.” He paused, and once again, she felt like they’d done this before. He laid an arm across the edge of the table and fiddled with the napkin. “I didn’t see it. I heard it was sappy.”
“Sappy? Are you kidding me?” She pounded her fists on the table and leaned toward him. “That’s one of the greatest films ever made.”
Jack laughed.
She felt pretty stupid. “You’re joking, right?”
“Yes, I am.” His stare nearly burned through the sunglasses still covering her eyes. “It was a superb film. One I suppose you’re going to designate as a classic.”
Their laughter filled the air and eased the tension, until someone else cleared their throat. Immediately, even before she glanced up, Izzy knew it was Jeannie.
Izzy cursed the luck of the draw, knowing when she looked up she was going to find her incredibly perturbed sister standing over her—ready to pounce.
“Hey, Jeannie.” She pursed her mouth into a narrowed, tight-lipped smile.
“Izzy—” Jeannie scolded her.
“Have no fear.” Jack threw his hands up in surrender and scooted out of the booth. “I just wanted to make sure Isabelle is okay, see.” He gestured toward the empty seat, inviting Jeannie to sit.
She eased down onto the edge of the seat and peered back and forth between Izzy and Jack. “Look, I can appreciate the difficulty of this situation...but for the good of everyone, you two should probably stay away from each other.”
“Probably.” Jack hesitated, his attention caught up in Izzy. “If there’s anything that I can ever do for you—” He turned to Jeannie. “Even if it’s staying away—” He paused before looking back at Izzy and a gentle smile curled on his lips. “All you have to do is ask.” He nodded slightly, swiveled and strolled away.
Izzy watched him go, probably a little longer than she should have before she turned to Jeannie. “Why do you have to be so mean?”
“Izzy, why do you have such little regard for this man’s livelihood or your husband’s feelings?” she asked, in a chastising tone that Izzy found annoying.
“I think we were saying goodbye.” Izzy paused, somehow she felt better knowing he cared.
“You’d better make sure it doesn’t keep on happening,” Jeannie continued to scold her. In fact, she seemed to like it. “Your frivolous, carefree attitude could destroy more than one life.”
Okay, okay. She got the point. “Geez, is being such a bitch really necessary?” Izzy hated that she was right. She despised the smug attitude accompanying her righteousness too.
“If that’s what it takes to keep you from making a huge mistake.” Jeannie stopped and stared at her. “Why are you wearing those glasses?”
“Because I don’t like people looking at my eyes.”
“Izzy, tell me you’re going to stay away from him?” Funny, the insistence that fueled Jeannie’s tone just a few seconds ago almost sounded like begging now.
“I’m trying, okay.” Izzy paused, avoiding eye contact. “That’s the best I can do.”
Izzy didn’t plan on ruining Jack’s life. Not today, anyway. Now tomorrow, that was a different story. She couldn’t swear she wouldn’t go running back to him tomorrow. She’d try to stay away. That’s all she could promise today. She’d try.
CHAPTER 13
JACK WASN’T accustomed to going to the Rialto by himself. But these days he didn’t feel like company. The last thing he needed or wanted was to have to entertain someone.
He’d stopped in on a whim, after seeing the billboard out front. “Since You Went Away”. Although it wasn’t something he’d normally choose to see, it reached out and grabbed hold of him. Probably because he thought it was something that would appeal to Isabelle.
He parked the car and strolled up to the window. “One please,” he said, sliding the money toward the cashier. She grinned, chomping on gum, and passed a single ticket to him.
He nodded graciously, took the ticket and strolled inside the theatre, taking a seat near the back.
Not long into the movie he found himself making strange and odd comparisons between the movie and his own life. To be so different, they sure were a lot alike. He let his attention travel away from the screen, not liking his indiscretion, however innocent, smacking him in the face. Too bad he couldn’t be as discerning as Joseph Cotton and contain his feelings.
Mulling over the crowd, he saw Jeannie and George a few rows up and it annoyed him until he realized where there was Jeannie one might also find Isabelle. He scanned the theatre, delighted when he saw her sitting alone on the other side of the auditorium.
He wanted to go sit with her, but decided against it. For now, it was enough just to see her and know she was okay.
All through the movie, his thoughts and attention kept wandering back to her. When the final credits rolled, he didn’t have the slightest clue how the movie had ended. How did Anne fare after her husband came home and she no longer had the luxury of turning to Tony?
He shrugged it off, thinking the movie probably ended the same way this segment of his life would...with Isabelle’s husband coming home and taking up residence as the man of the house. The thought sickened him.
He stayed in his seat while the other movie-goers shuffled out of the theater. When the auditorium was empty he got up and left.
Pausing in the lobby, he peered outside and saw Isabelle standing alone. He was tempted to go outside and say hello, but seeing that vulture Jeannie approaching Isabelle stopped him just inside the entrance.
Safe and out of sight inside the theater’s lobby, he looked on at the vivid conversation ensuing. Each sister said her piece until, finally, Jeannie left with George. Isabelle strolled in the other direction until she wound up at the bus stop a few feet away.
Jack pushed the door open and stepped outside, glancing in the direction Jeannie and George had gone. Seeing them disappear around the corner, he grinned and crept toward Isabelle like a great cat sneaking up on its prey.
He stopped a few feet away from her. “Enjoy the movie?”
She jumped and whirled around, startled. Her face softened with a smile when her eyes met his. “Hi.” She glanced away shyly. “The movie was entertaining at times, but grew rather dark, I thought.”
Funny. Such an oddly accurate account of a really long film that felt a little too close to home.
“Didn’t care much for it, huh?” Feeling awkward, he slid his hands inside his pockets.<
br />
Fumbling with her purse, she managed to shrug and say apathetically, “I guess the thing that constitutes a happy ending is different for different people.”
That was one way of putting it. She did have a point. But he didn’t see how they, him and Isabelle, could have a happy ending. If her husband came home in a box, she’d never forgive herself. If he came home alive, he would live the life that Jack wanted. Either way was a no-win situation for Jack and Isabelle.
“You taking the bus home?” He acknowledged the sign looming above them.
“Yes.” She looked away, as if purposefully avoiding him. But the embarrassment tainting her cheeks crimson could not evade him, even underneath the burnished glow of the streetlamp. “Jeannie’s got herself a date.”
“And she left you here to fend for yourself?” He glanced at the bus heading toward them. “Why don’t you let me give you a ride?” he asked quickly, over the spent suffering of his lawless heart.
The bus pulled up to the curb and the door opened. Isabelle’s fingers, tapered and long, fastened her hand around the bus’s railing. She placed one foot on the bottom step and glanced over her shoulder. “Thanks.” A smile spread across her face, one of those friendly, off-limits kind of smiles that kicked a man in his gut and deflated his ego. “But that’s not necessary.”
“It’s really no trouble, see,” he said, worrying that he might sound too eager.
She climbed to the top step and looked back again. “Thanks, Jack, but I really need to stop depending on you.” She didn’t wait for a reply. Instead, she ventured on inside the bus.
He liked her stockings, the way the line ran up the back of her legs. A wild whim pushed him to follow her onto the bus. Halfway down the aisle he dropped into the seat behind her.
“What are you doing?” Her tone, cool and disapproving, did not discourage Jack.
“Seeing you home.” He sank back into the seat and folded his arms over his chest.
“Suit yourself,” she said, inching toward the window. “What are you going to do?” She crooked her head to look at him. “Ride the bus back to your car?”
Jack ignored her. He had too. Otherwise, he might burst out laughing. Instead, he winked and looked her over seductively. The way her breasts filled out the red and white polka dot dress showered him with thoughts he shouldn’t be thinking. He wanted to kiss her, all over, and that left his heart aching. Her legs vied for his attention, dragging his thoughts away from his heartache.
A subtle moan rose in his throat and he choked it back, shifting in his seat. “Where’d you get that dress, Isabelle?”
She glanced down and then raised her eyes slowly back to him. A baffling, insignificant frown crossed her face. “I haven’t a clue.” Discomfort stained her cheeks red.
Jack offered her a wink and an easy smile, hoping to disarm her bewilderment. Her left hand, the bareness of her ring finger glared like a naked desert. “Isabelle, do you have a wedding ring?”
She glanced at her hand and gave a dismissive gesture. “I don’t know.” Her features settled into a frown. “Does that make me a bad person?”
The question hammered at his heavy heart. “Why...because you don’t know whether or not you have a wedding ring?” His tone was testy, yet tolerant.
“No.” She tilted her head with a cool stare in his direction. “Because I don’t care if I have one or not.”
“Isabelle, it’s not your fault that you don’t remember,” he said, hoping to soothe and calm her doubt.
The bus slowed to a stop across the street from the boarding house.
She pushed herself into a standing position. “Well, looks like this is my stop.” She smiled, all friendly-like, and moved into the aisle.
“It was nice seeing you again, Isabelle.” The gentleman in him stood and waited until she’d exited the bus.
Jack sat back down and the driver checked him in the mirror. “This is my last run,” he said. “Where you headed, pal?”
“Back to the Rialto.” Jack glanced out the window and watched Isabelle hurry up the walkway and disappear inside the house.
He found the missing symbol of marriage intriguing, if not suspicious. While he didn’t understand but easily accepted the amnesia and the peculiar things she sometimes said, he didn’t get why she wasn’t wearing a ring.
Knowing her as he did, he found it odd that she wouldn’t have one—or wear it if she did. If she were his wife, Jack would make sure she had the biggest rock he could afford so everybody would know she was married. Even so, Isabelle was not the kind of girl who married a guy who couldn’t or wouldn’t provide her with a ring.
Her husband, who just so happened to be overseas, aroused Jack’s curiosity. Never mind Isabelle’s criteria when it came to marriage; what kind of guy didn’t put a wedding ring on a girl like her?
Jack could be jumping the gun, but he didn’t think so. Aside from the fact that there seemed to be too many loose ends, there was something off about this conveniently absent flyer.
And Jack intended to find out what that was.
CHAPTER 14
JEANNIE QUICKLY recognized the meddlesome threat Jack Baker posed. Upon finding him with Izzy at Woolworth’s, she knew she’d have to resort to drastic measures. Nothing could bust up a budding relationship like a third party. In this case the handsome, not to mention irresistible, George Hadley was just the distraction Izzy needed.
Who could resist the strong, sturdy, clean-shaven man with an impressive, appealing face. George was chosen specifically because of his handsome features, but he also had a bit of larceny operating in him. With a little convincing, Jeannie was sure she could influence him to make a move on Izzy. It would take some doing, but Jeannie’s persuasive powers were strong enough to sway Izzy into thinking that sleeping with George was a good idea. Once she put her mind to it—no one had ever been able to ignore her suggestions. She wasn’t about to lose that distinction now.
Jeannie eased the front door of the boarding house shut and tiptoed upstairs. She’d come home early, hoping to find Izzy still sleeping. It would be much easier to start the persuasion process if the girl was slumbering.
Thankfully, Izzy was in her bed snoozing away. Jeannie smiled and crept across the room, pausing at the bed’s side before easing down on the edge.
She waved her hand in a slow, gentle motion above Izzy’s head and spoke in a voice inaudible to humans. Her words translated roughly to: George...George Hadley. He’s the one now.
She paused a moment, waiting—hoping—for a reaction from Izzy. When the ghost whisperer stirred and muttered George’s name, Jeannie exhaled a long sigh of triumph.
“Excellent.” She smiled and stood over Izzy. “In your waking hours, when I say, don’t fight it...you will not battle with the urge to get closer to George.”
Jeannie drifted to her empty bed, toed off her shoes and began undressing. The mortal sex with George was good, and she knew she’d sleep well as a result.
No mortal could’ve slept a mere twenty-five minutes and risen as if they’d slept for hours on end, another indication that she was different, superior to these humans.
Jeannie dressed for work and left before Izzy awakened. It was better this way. Her suggestion needed time to take root, to mature. If Izzy got up before she left, Jeannie would be tempted to pick her brain. And that might jeopardize her plan.
CHAPTER 15
JACK HAD two problems. First, how was he going to find Isabelle’s husband? And once he did, and brought him home, how was he supposed to stand by and watch another man love her? He didn’t know about the latter, but Jeannie seemed like the place to start with the foremost problem.
Judging by the look on her face when he walked into Dr. Odell White’s office, he’d say she was surprised to see him turn up at her place of employment.
She was quiet for a second or two, then smiled easily and remained in her seat as she greeted him. “Jack, to what do I owe the pleasure?” She flashed him a smile th
at exuded confidence, but her eyes said something entirely different. Jeannie was nervous.
Jack helped himself to a chair, dragged it across the floor and sat it down in front of the desk, across from her. “I have a couple of concerns and I wanted to run them by you, see,” he said, fully intending to take advantage of her misplaced assurance.
“All right.” She didn’t falter under his steady gaze. The girl was tough and getting information from her might prove difficult.
That didn’t discourage Jack. “First off...Isabelle’s wedding ring?”
A perfectly arched eyebrow perked up, but her eyes, typically a lighter shade of green, darkened with worry and gave her discomfort away. “Her wedding ring?” Her voice shook with the same discomfort that had flooded her eyes seconds before.
“What happened to it?” Jack continued his pursuit of information. He didn’t care that she appeared uncomfortable, maybe he could use that to his advantage.
“I’m not quite sure I understand what you mean.” Outwardly, she remained calm, but he knew she was rattled. Why? She had to be hiding something.
He was starting to find her stumbling interesting. “Do you expect me to believe she doesn’t have one?”
“Oh, she has one.” Jeannie recovered quickly, her demeanor a little too certain to suit Jack. “But if she doesn’t have it on, I don’t know where it is.” Her gaze traveled back to the fashion magazine on her desk, signifying she was done with Jack. She traced a well-manicured red fingertip over the page, blatantly ignoring him.
“Fair enough.” He hesitated, wondering what to make of her unassuming candor. If she thought he was done, she was in for a surprise. “Her husband’s name was what again?”
“Harry. Harry Walker.” The name rolled off her tongue almost too easily. He didn’t like that. He didn’t know why. He just didn’t like it.
“Walker.” He repeated the name, something about it bothering him. Of course. “She didn’t take his name?” Jack found that hard to believe. What self-respecting woman didn’t take her husband’s name?
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