He stared at the darkening water. “Do you remember your senior year of high school?”
“Sure,” she said. “Everybody does. It’s your last year of being a kid. Everything that happens, good or bad, is golden because you know it’s the last time you’ll experience it.”
“You know what I remember about my senior year?” He didn’t give her time to answer. “I remember my mom and dad selling eighty percent of our furniture. I remember them celebrating when they got their passports. I remember them spending countless hours a day learning some obscure language for people they didn’t even know.”
“You feel like your parents’ going to work overseas was more important to them than your senior year?” A cold breeze snuck up the side of her legs, and she pulled the towel closer.
He faced her. “I think that for an entire year I was brutally reminded that if it wasn’t for me, they would have left long ago. It was like a yearlong celebration that I would finally be out of their way.”
“Are you sure that’s how they felt? Have they said that?”
“Some things are louder when they’re not said.”
“And some things are bitterly misunderstood when they’re not said.” So many things she should have said to Eric early on in their marriage. Maybe it would have kept him from becoming such a tyrant.
“I know that,” he conceded. “But you can’t really have a heart-to-heart on a crackling satellite phone from five thousand miles away.”
Will pivoted so he could lean forward, elbows resting on his thighs. “I have wanted to ask my dad why. My parents aren’t cruel people by nature. I know they love me. But their actions . . . ”
Adrienne nodded and reached around him. Her gaze followed his to the dark water, the glow of the moon melding with the torches and creating fire sparks of illumination. Surprising herself, she put her hands on Will’s face and turned him to look at her. So much pain in those green eyes. She started to lean forward to kiss him but stopped. Again, the eyes. She wanted to ease that pain. Be the answer. Be his answer. Letting the beach towel fall away, she pushed her lips against his. Their faces came together in a sweet, tender movement. Warm, strong hands slid over her back to cradle her against him.
She was crushed inside his capable hold, feeling safer than she’d ever felt before, unconcerned about her salt-sticky body or the mess that was her hair. Because Will . . . well, Will made everything better. She didn’t have to care about her appearance, and that was liberating.
Her hands slid upward slowly, tangling into his hair. She was slipping, spiraling down an oiled slide into a vat of rich sweetness. And she was almost there, almost lost when he broke the kiss.
Hungry green eyes captured her as she dragged her lids open. He brushed his thumb across her mouth, but the spell was broken. Such a gentleman. Just like his grandfather.
Will pulled a deep breath and exhaled a shaky one. “You are the most captivatingly beautiful woman I’ve ever dated.”
Trying to calm the tribal drum that had replaced her heartbeat, she opted for humor. If she gave herself to anything else, they’d end up . . . well, they’d end up doing something she wasn’t sure she was ready for. “Who says I’m dating you?”
“You better be or this is completely scandalous.” His fingertips played with the end of her wind-dried hair.
“I haven’t had enough scandal in my life.”
“Nor have I,” he said in a playful tone. “Let’s see how much trouble we can cause together.”
His hands fell to her hips where one tug pulled her closer. Her bottom scooted across the deck, and a throaty giggle escaped her mouth. She pressed her hands against his chest, eyes widening. “Okay, maybe I’m not cut out for scandal.”
He nuzzled against her neck, lips finding the hollow below her jaw. “I could help ruin you,” he growled, hot breath scorching her skin. And oh, she so believed it. “Or, of course, there is the alternative.”
“Okay, okay. I’m dating you.” She pointed an index finger at him. “But only to avoid scandal.”
He sank his hands into her hair.
There was an intensity about this man that drove her nuts. She was about to move out of its trajectory, put some space between them, but instead she found herself moving toward his mouth again. He seemed lost somewhere in his scrutiny of her hair and how it slid from her shoulders. But he caught her moving in. All his attention focused on her mouth until it pressed firmly to his. The kiss deepened, her fingers grazing the planes of his cheeks.
She broke the kiss quickly. It wasn’t like her to be the aggressor. It wasn’t like her at all. But something about him made her feel safe, like she could take the risk. Like she had to take the risk. He made her feel strong. Powerful. And power was a beautiful thing . . . when it wasn’t misused.
“Don’t do that,” he whispered.
“What?” she managed, her own voice sounding foreign.
“Don’t feel embarrassed about kissing me.”
Was she really that easy to read? After all, this wasn’t their first kiss. But this time, she’d surprised herself. “I’m not, I just . . . ”
“Adrienne.” He stood and pulled her up to meet him. “Can I admit something to you?”
“Anything.” Blood surged into her stiff limbs, and she realized how long they’d been sitting on the deck.
“I’m scared.”
She frowned—it seemed so out of place, this admission from this man. Out of place and raw.
“I’m scared of how I’m beginning to feel about you.” His hands slid up and down her arms.
“I won’t hurt you, Will.” That much was true. She’d never hurt anyone intentionally, do to him what Eric had done to her.
“No, I’m not scared for me. I’m scared for you.” He shook his head. “I know it doesn’t make sense but I . . . I want you. Maybe more than I’ve ever wanted anything. The trouble is, I’m a really driven man. And I’m worried I’ll get too selfish and not put your best interest before my own. You’ve gotten under my skin and in my blood.”
Was he actually saying he was afraid he cared about her too much? This wasn’t really a bad problem to have, unless . . . No. She stopped that train of thought.
Will read her silence and stepped away. Hands on the deck rail, he stared out at the water.
The light of a torch danced across his features. Adrienne tried to continue to gauge the words. He was actually saying he cared so much for her that his own selfishness could get in the way. If that confession was meant to make her turn and run, it did the opposite. His admission meant a desire to control it. So he had a natural bend toward selfishness. Big deal. He knew it, and better yet, he wanted to change it.
Adrienne stepped to him, fingertips grazing first over his back, then his arms. On her tiptoes, she glanced over his shoulder toward the dark water. Seeing nothing out there, she laid her head against his back and listened to him breathe.
I’m not too sure about the sushi,” Pops said, looking down at the accumulation of odd and unusual ingredients for the sushi rolls Adrienne was preparing. “But that chicken smells divine.”
“The sushi is just to nibble on. Will said you’d never tried it.”
It was a Tuesday night, and she’d invited Will and Pops over for an Asian-infused gourmet dinner. Sara was back in Winter Garden, though her weekends in Bonita Springs were getting longer and longer.
Pops used a chopstick to lift the edge of a piece of sushi. Adrienne had taken a class at a chef school when she lived in Chicago. Weeknights without Sara seemed dull and boring, so she’d planned the sushi gathering, wanting to try out her culinary skills on someone who would appreciate her effort. The two Bryant men were the perfect victims.
At one time during her marriage, Adrienne had wanted to attend culinary school. Eric had laughed at her. His words still stung. Culinary school? Why? So you can make gourmet meals for the cat? Please, Adrienne, be serious. The last thing in the world I want is a fry cook as a wife. If Adrienne we
re a fry cook, she’d be proud of it. She thought of Leo and what a service he’d offered by feeding families all these years. It was a noble profession. As were so many Eric had always made fun of. How had she ever fallen in love with him?
Pops, still skeptical, used his finger to poke the seaweed. “There’s a reason I’ve never tried it. Doesn’t raw fish carry salmonella?”
“These are California rolls.” She grinned over at him, placing a delicate mound of wasabi by the now completed roll. “No fish,” she added when his quizzical look didn’t change.
“That’s good. Where I come from, raw fish has a different name.”
Wiping her hands on her apron. “What name?”
“We call it bait.”
“Funny, Pops.”
He pointed to the green pyramid. “That’s guacamole?”
“No, wasabi. It’s very hot Japanese horseradish.”
“I thought you’d jumped to a different continent.” Pops really did seem younger than when she’d first met him. Ah, what love could do. Her back patio was lit with torches, and their light flashed now and then into the kitchen window, catching her attention. Soft music floated from the living room, completing the atmosphere. The scent of roasting chicken and fresh rosemary filled the house.
Adrienne checked the contents of the oven, lifting the tinfoil and peeking beneath; then she attacked the refrigerator.
Will stepped behind her. “What are you looking for?”
“Soy sauce.” She rummaged through the doors like a raccoon. “I must be out.”
“I’ll go get some,” Will said, reaching for his car keys. “Want to ride along, Pops?”
The older man shot a glance over to Adrienne, still tucked in the fridge. She was mumbling about mustard, mayo, minced garlic.
“No,” Pops said, “I’ll just stay here.”
Once Will was gone, Pops and Adrienne moved out to the back deck to wait for the chicken to finish cooking.
“Adrienne, I was hoping I’d get a chance to talk to you.” A sailboat moved silently along the horizon and looked like it could drop off the edge of the world if it veered in the wrong direction.
She turned toward him. “What is it, Pops?”
“I’ve never really gotten the chance to thank you for all you’ve done for me.” He added, “For us.”
“I feel like I’m the one who has benefited from all that’s happened.” She leaned toward him. “I gained a wonderful set of friends.”
“Well, we’re all pretty fond of you.” His gaze narrowed. “Especially Will.”
“Pops, can I ask you something?”
He nodded.
“What happened between Will and his parents?”
The older man shrugged and shook his head, sadness entering his blue eyes. “Nothing happened. That’s what’s so frustrating about it. Will is an incredible young man. Will’s parents are wonderful. Somewhere along the way, things just got strained.”
“Would you tell me about them?”
He smiled. “Charles and Peg are ordinary people making an extraordinary difference. You know they’re in Senegal?”
She nodded.
“Well, the area where they work used to have a child mortality rate of seventy percent.”
She straightened. “That’s awful.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “No fresh water. Between that and disease, the children didn’t stand a chance.” He let this sink in before he continued. “They began setting up medical teams first, sending over doctors, nurses, and medical personnel.”
“They sound like amazing people. I hope I get to meet them someday.”
“I’m sure you will.” He thought for a moment. “They were supposed to be coming home in about a month, but won’t be able to. There’s a lot of unrest in the country right now, but . . . ” He rubbed his chin. “I don’t think that’s why they cancelled.”
“Why, then?”
“I don’t know. I just know I’m distressed by it because I thought it would be a great opportunity for Will and Charles to sit down and talk.”
Adrienne reached over and squeezed his hand. “Well, miracles can happen,” she said, trying to lift the older man’s spirits. “How can I learn more about them?”
“Lots of information is online. Also, I have some photos at the house.”
“Thanks, Pops.”
“No, it’s you who deserves the thanks. You’re like our personal guardian angel.”
“You’re the angel, Pops.” She thought about the soldier Pops had been. “I’m honored to know you, Mr. Bryant.”
This seemed to catch him off guard, and he straightened. “I’m honored as well.” Age-weathered fingers rubbed against his thighs in the same manner she’d watched Will’s do many times.
He winked over at her. “Life is about relationships. The rest is all gravy. Hey, maybe gravy would make that sushi taste good.”
Adrienne laughed. “Oh, Pops.”
They stayed on the back deck until the very last bits of sunlight drained from the horizon, and only the stars and torchlight lit the world around.
Will and Pops went home, and Adrienne left the dishes in the sink while she dug through William’s letters in search of one. When she found it, she sat down at the table where Pops and Will had been just minutes before.
October 1944
Dear Gracie,
This may seem a strange topic, but it’s been going over and over in my head. When I come home and we become man and wife, how many children will we have? We’ve never discussed it. I don’t even know if you want a whole house full of kids or just one or two. Would you like a girl or a boy? I’d be happy with either. A little princess who looks like you. A boy I can toss a ball with and take fishing.
For a bunch of men in a foreign land with a job to do, we sure do talk about home. No, not talk, we dream. We dream with our eyes wide open and our hearts bare. We dream out loud, Gracie, and though a lot of teasing and ribbing goes on here, we don’t tease each other about that. There’s nothing funny about a soldier trying to remember home.
Come to think of it, we do harass Rick. He swears he’s going to marry Marlene Dietrich. Says he met her once in California. She was hiding under an awning in a downpour. He says the two of them had quite a nice time waiting out the storm.
I guess that’s what we’re all doing, isn’t it? Waiting out the storm.
I’m ready to build a life with you, Grace. Ready to hear the sound of babies crying, children laughing. Ready to smell fresh bread baking in the kitchen and fresh fish frying in the skillet. Think about it, Grace. When this is over, we’ll build a life around our dreams.
A boy, I think. Yes. I can see us having a boy.
Your future husband,
William
Adrienne pressed a hand to her heart. All those years ago, Pops had wanted a son. She retrieved her laptop from the front closet. She’d started storing it there after having to have sheetrock dust removed from her PC by a computer repair shop in town.
While it booted up, she thought of Pops and the son he spoke of in the letter, the son he knew he’d have, only it would be with a different woman than Grace. She narrowed her search to Africa and typed in “Charles and Peg Bryant.” Her computer screen illuminated the kitchen with a warm but mechanical glow as she studied photos of the couple.
Will favored his father but had his mother’s wavy, dark hair. They were an attractive couple and seemed most alive in the pictures that sported a dozen dark-headed, dark-skinned children. Adrienne studied the schoolhouse. It looked like concrete, with holes for windows and doors. Special attention was given to photo after photo of the water reservoir and villagers filling everything from bowls to gourds with the clear liquid. Once she reached the bottom of the page, the good feeling dissolved. Concern drew her brows together as she read the words Charles and Peggy Bryant’s funding has been cut in half. This was effective in January; however, they have continued their work with little interruption. If you’d like to donate
to this important cause, contact us.
Could that be why they weren’t able to come back for Pops’s birthday? Adrienne tapped her index finger on her bottom lip. Of course, she should leave this alone. It wasn’t her place—as Will was always so quick to remind her—to get involved.
Adrienne stared at her kitchen counters, wondering what two airline tickets from Africa might cost. Her gaze fell to the granite samples stashed in the corner. She let out a long, agonizing sigh. Granite probably wasn’t that great after all. She chewed on the inside corner of her mouth. Did she really want granite or was she just getting it because it was the counter choice du jour? But she knew the answer. She had wanted granite countertops since she’d taken the gourmet cooking class.
While struggling with the choice that lay in front of her, Adrienne was reminded of something she’d once read. “When one is confronted with a random act of kindness that is neither expected nor ordinary, one is obligated to meet that kindness and exceed it if possible.”
She squared her shoulders, smiled to herself, and typed in “International Airlines.”
After getting the ticket prices, she looked up the number and was now speaking to a Peace Corps representative.
“I’m interested in information about a couple in Africa. Their names are Charles and Peggy Bryant.” After being connected to the right person, Adrienne asked when the Bryants were planning to come back to the States.
“The Bryants will not be stateside for nearly a year.”
Adrienne could hear the woman typing something on the other end of the line.
“Actually, they put in a request for a trip next month; however, due to funding, they withdrew the request.”
Adrienne’s heart began to beat harder. “Would it be too late if they still wanted to make the trip?”
There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment. “You mean, if enough money were to come in to cover the tickets? No, it wouldn’t be too late. We encourage our people to get back to the States when they can.”
“Is there a way you can find out if they still want to come?”
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