“Oh.” Gail leaned back against the bench, crumpling the remainder of her hot dog into the wrapper.
Why did she suddenly seem upset? “Was it something I said?”
She gave a nervous laugh then smiled—but not the easy one that crinkled the bridge of her nose. “No, not at all. It’s just that Marcia didn’t mention that… that you were going to… Vietnam.”
Alan took a deep breath, prepared to hear the barrage against the United States’ involvement there. “I didn’t think it would be an issue for you.”
By her expression, Alan guessed she was either offended or angry. Either way, he suspected their time together had come to an end.
A vivid picture of Marcia’s husband flashed into her mind. She’d seen the changes in Patrick, heard his screams just the other night—all the way down the hall—though she’d told her sister she hadn’t. The idea of Alan going through that pained her… though she barely knew him.
She didn’t have a clue why Alan rose so abruptly and now stood by the garbage can, head down. He hadn’t even finished his own hot dog. Had talking about his parents’ deaths and then the war hit too close to home? And what did he mean by “be an issue for her”?
Gail gave him a moment then ambled to where he stood. “Alan, are you okay?”
He lifted his chin. “Sure. We should probably get going. I’d imagine you probably have more important things to do.”
What in the world had gotten into him? She threw her leftover lunch and soda bottle into the receptacle with a loud thud. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, and I’m not sure I want to know.” She spun away and headed back toward the direction they’d come.
Alan’s steps rushed behind her. “You clearly have an issue with the war, despite the fact that good men are there trying to help. I thought for sure you would understand that.”
She couldn’t hold back her gasp. “I said no such thing!”
“It’s what you didn’t say, Gail.”
“Didn’t say?” She stopped and faced him. “How would you like me to say that I hope the war doesn’t change you like it has Patrick? Surely you’ve seen how he’s changed. How he hurts. I wish I could do more to help him, but I can’t.”
She stormed off again. No way would she let him see her cry. She’d find her own way home if she had to.
“Gail, wait!”
A sudden tug on her elbow brought her to a halt and turned her toward him. She kept her head down. “Just take me home, please.”
He lifted her chin. “I’m sorry. I misunderstood. I thought you were opposed to the war.”
She reached up and batted away a stray tear. “No, I just hate the idea of you being in such danger. I know how much it affected Marcia… not knowing if Patrick was okay or even coming home.”
Why was she so upset? And why did she feel so drawn to Alan? Had to be that he’d opened up to her and shared his story. Marcia always did accuse her of having too big a heart for those who had suffered loss.
“That I completely understand. The not knowing if someone you love will come home.”
She wanted to melt into his arms. The way he looked at her with total understanding based so clearly in his own loss. The man had a heart to match hers.
No, she couldn’t let herself think like that. Feel like that. She had Troy, and he wasn’t going to war or someplace dangerous. And he wanted to marry her. She had a secure future with him.
Alan tilted his head, giving her that goofy grin of his. “Forgive me?”
She nodded.
“Still friends, Miss Gibson?”
His words made her laugh. “Yes, Mr. James. Still friends.”
Chapter 4
They’d spent nearly every evening together over the last several weeks. Alan had taken Gail to see The King and I on Broadway, knowing the story alone would appeal to her tender heart. He hadn’t expected her tears at the end, which seemed to embarrass her but only endeared her more to him. And tonight, she was coming by his shop. Alan had already planned which of his favorite pieces he would show her.
He stood in front of the cash register going through the receipts.
“You’re whistling, little brother.”
He smiled and joined in the game they’d played since childhood. “Not little… big. And I’m not whistling, little sister. Just enjoying the day.”
She leaned against him. “Do I get to meet her?”
“Who?”
“Your girlfriend.”
He kissed the top of her head. With auburn hair like their mother’s, Tara looked more like her by the day. “Like I said, she’s just a friend.”
“Then do I get to meet your friend?”
“Of course. I’d like Gail to meet you.” He glanced at his watch and closed the register. “She should be here soon.”
“I don’t know. Wanting her to meet your family… sounds serious to me.” She winked at him then headed to the back room on whatever errand she’d thought of to keep the last word. Another game left over from their parents. They’d clung to the little things—the games and traditions—to keep their parents’ memories alive.
But Tara had hit closer to the truth than he wanted to admit. His feelings for Gail had grown quickly. He would have told anyone three weeks ago that he didn’t believe whirlwind romances were based in real love, but now… now he could almost believe it was possible to fall in love with someone in mere moments. If it was the right someone…
Perhaps it was good that Gail was engaged. She didn’t need to be worrying about him when he left. He just hoped she’d be happy with the guy. Hoped the guy appreciated her.
The bell jingled on the door. Gail walked in, wearing the same white headband she’d worn the day he met her. The rest of her outfit wowed him, from the miniskirt to the small square purse, which matched her white leather boots.
“Hi there.”
Pure pleasure at seeing her in his shop pushed aside any reticence he still held. “Hello. No problems getting here, I hope.”
She reached the counter and set her purse down. “No, Patrick dropped me at the station and the train ride was… entertaining.”
“Entertaining?”
She lifted her brows. “Quite. One of the passengers played his guitar the whole way in.”
“Played well then?”
“That depends on whether you like to hear music played with just fingers, or fingers and toes.”
“Toes?”
“And that was the good part.”
Tara emerged from the back room. “Toes?” She clasped her hands in front of her and stood by Alan. She only did that when she felt nervous.
Alan put his arm around his sister and tucked her to his side. “Gail, this is my sister, Tara.”
Gail smiled at her. “Hi, Tara. By your brother’s description of you, I was expecting to see a girl, not a beautiful young woman. Shame on you, Alan.”
He glanced from Gail to his sister’s wide smile. Tara wasn’t easy to win over, yet Gail had done so in less than a minute. His admiration for her jumped a few notches. “Only because I’m not in a hurry to see her grow up.”
Tara elbowed him in the side. “Spoken like a true big brother.”
“And how lucky you are to have such a great big brother.” Gail glanced at him shyly.
“Not lucky, blessed.”
“Oh, I see.” Gail kept her smile in place, but Alan didn’t miss the surprise in her eyes.
“Tara, you can head upstairs if you want. I’ll finish closing up and show Gail some of our better pieces.”
Gail shifted her gaze from Tara to Alan. “Upstairs?”
Tara headed for a door behind the counter. “Yeah, that’s where we live, in the apartment above.” She leaned in front of her brother. “Don’t be too long. The roast will come out of the oven in half an hour.”
“Roast? I’m taking Gail out.”
His sister laughed at him. “Hot dogs are not what I call dinner out.”
“No, not hot
dogs. Someplace else.” He tossed a wad of paper at her.
Tara paused with her hand on the doorknob. Her eyes pleaded with him. “I made plenty.”
“I would love to stay, that is, if you don’t mind, Alan. I don’t get to eat a roast very often. I’d consider it a treat, especially since I can’t even boil an egg.” Gail winked at Tara.
He felt his chest expand. Why did the perfect woman have to walk into his life just as he was about to ship out, and with a fiancé to boot? Although he had noticed her finger still remained bare.
“Then roast it is.”
His sister bounced with her smile. “I’ll let you know when it’s ready.”
Alan glanced over his shoulder as Tara disappeared through the door. The dwindling sound of her footsteps as she climbed the stairs and the rumble of traffic outside kept the store from total silence.
Gail moved closer to the counter. “I see your sister shares your faith.”
He bobbed his head and shrugged. “Yes, she does. She’s pretty straightforward about it.”
“As are you.” Gail smiled. Genuine and warm.
He held his arms out to his sides. “Hope you don’t mind.” He held his breath. Tara was his world. He could only make room for those who wouldn’t upset the balance of their diminished family.
“You really didn’t do your sister justice, you know.”
And a few more notches added to the admiration scale. He wished he could hold her, tell her how much her words meant to him. “Tara’s a dynamo in the kitchen. She says she likes taking care of me.”
“I bet she’s looking forward to getting married then.”
“Just because she likes to cook?”
“And take care of you. I know I would—did at her age. Still do.”
He didn’t miss her stutter and quick cover-up. “What, take care of me?” He loved the flustered look on her face, bordering on mortification. Along with the blush on her cheeks.
“No! I mean as long as I can remember I’ve wanted to get married and have a family to take care of. I guess that makes me pretty old-fashioned in this day and age.”
“No, just more intriguing.”
“Marcia says I’m stodgy.” She kept darting her gaze away from him.
“I dearly hope you don’t listen to her. Based on her judgment—” He may disapprove of Marcia’s behavior, but he was wrong to judge, let alone speak ill of Gail’s sister.
“I try not to.” Her unspoken “but” hung in the air.
Alan wouldn’t ask this time though. “How about I show you around?”
Her usual perkiness returned. “I’d love it.”
He gave her the full tour of the store, starting with the fine crystal, which seemed to enchant her the most. Especially the salt dishes, which looked like miniature bowls.
“They look like something my niece would love to use with her Barbie dolls.”
Alan laughed, soaking in the delight in her expression. “Now that’s one idea I don’t think I ever would have thought of.”
He finished the tour at an old mirror dating from the turn of the century. “This is the piece responsible for my love of antiques. It belonged to my grandmother, who passed it down to my mother.”
Gail ran her fingers over the grooves and curves of the wood. “It’s beautiful. Almost reminds me of some of the Art Deco designs of the twenties.”
“I’m impressed. You’re not too far off.”
The door behind the counter swung open.
“Dinner is served.” Tara glanced between them, waiting expectantly by the counter.
Gail joined Tara then turned around as if waiting for him. Both women smiled at him, standing side by side.
“Let me take a picture.” Alan raised the Polaroid he used to record his inventory, capturing them both in the viewfinder. “Keep smiling.”
He pressed the button. The camera whirred and spit out the undeveloped picture. Tara turned around then headed up the stairs.
Gail remained, still smiling but different somehow. “You’ve done a great job raising her, Alan.”
He didn’t know what to say to the admiration he saw in her eyes. She left him speechless, so he simply returned her smile. The moment locked them together in a mutual communication without words. Gail seemed reluctant to break their silent conversation, but she turned and headed up the stairs.
Alan waved the picture back and forth to dry the coating. The image of his sister with Gail appeared slowly, faded at first, then more vibrant. He hadn’t noticed that Gail had put her arm around Tara’s waist and that Tara had leaned her head toward Gail.
Just like she used to do with their mother.
“You’re right, Tara’s a wonderful cook.” Gail gazed into the distance, soaking in the blush of sunset resting on the treetops of Central Park. An older couple passed by with two leashed corgis trotting in front of them. Another couple—younger and oblivious to all but each other—walked slowly ahead. Snippets of their laughter drifted back to where she and Alan meandered their own path in the failing daylight.
Alan smiled but kept his face forward. “She really likes you.”
“I really like her. She’s so charming.”
He shook his head. “No, you don’t understand. Tara doesn’t warm up to people easily. Took her months to finally admit she liked Patrick. Marcia never stood a chance.”
Gail couldn’t help it. She giggled at first but then flat-out laughed so hard her stomach hurt. Finally, she had one on her sister. She collapsed on a bench, hands on her stomach. “If only I could share the mental picture that creates.”
“I had no idea I was so funny.” He clasped her hand in his and tugged her back to the path, but he didn’t let go.
Gail dabbed her eyes as a way to sneak a peek at their intertwined hands. She should let go but had no desire to. The warmth of his hand made her feel safe… protected. Alan was a good man. She mourned again that he’d soon be exposed to the ravages of war. She hadn’t really put much stock in praying since she was a little girl, but maybe, just maybe, God would hear her prayers for Alan.
They reached a bridge with ornate railings. A recent rain had turned the wood to a deep red. “Oh, I love this bridge. My father took me on it when I was a little girl.”
“Bow Bridge. Did you come in the fall?”
“No, it was winter. Snow covered most of the ground, and the trees were bare. It was gorgeous.”
“You should come back in the fall then. The trees turn yellow and red.” They’d reached the center and stopped, overlooking the lake. Alan brushed his fingers over her bangs. “And a burnt orange that matches your hair.”
Heat raced up her cheeks, most likely making her look like a tomato again. But she couldn’t look away.
His warm brown eyes held her, captured her attention and her heart. “I love it when you blush like that.”
“You do?” No one had ever told her that.
His hand cupped her chin. He drew her in gently with his hand and with his gaze, full of love.
Love? Was it possible Alan was falling in love with her? Was she falling in love with him? If she let him kiss her, would she know for sure? What about Troy?
She pulled back.
“Gail, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Hand held up, she said what she thought she should but not what she wanted to. “No, it’s okay. It’s late and the setting is so romantic. We just got carried away.” Oh, how she wanted to go back. She wanted his kiss, wanted to know what it would feel like to share that with him.
Marcia would have. Why couldn’t she be just a little like her sister right now?
“I should get going. I told my niece I’d be there to tuck her in tonight.”
“I’ll drive you home.”
When they reached the shop, Alan guided her around to the back of the building. He rolled up a green metal door to reveal his car.
“I wondered where you parked your car in the city.”
“It’s a sw
eet deal. One of the few places that still has space for a car.” Alan opened the door for her then shut it once she got in. But he didn’t leave her side. Instead he leaned down, his head in the open window.
Gail couldn’t stand to keep looking at him. She wanted to though. Wanted more than anything to answer the question in his eyes.
“I hope he knows how lucky he is, Gail.”
She forced a smile. “Don’t you mean blessed?”
He nodded his head, as if to say she won. “Indeed I most certainly did.” He pushed away from the car, leaving the window empty like a gaping hole.
Much like the one that would stay in her heart once he shipped out.
Chapter 5
Alan paced in front of the bus station, waiting to say good-bye to Patrick. Tara sat on the bench nearby, peaceful as a statue. He envied her ability to be still. Compounding his stress for his friend was the aspect of seeing Gail again. He’d left messages twice, but she hadn’t called him back.
He reflected on their last evening together, just as he had every day over the week since. Should he have kept his mouth shut about her fiancé? But that would have gone against his growing feelings for her. And if his parents’ deaths taught him anything, it was that you didn’t always get a second chance to tell someone you loved them.
Love? He rolled the word around in his brain like a rough stone, smoothing its edges to a soft shine. Did he love Gail? Could he fall in love in such a short time? His mother would have said yes, if it was the right girl. So maybe the question he needed to ask himself was whether or not Gail Gibson was the woman he was meant to love… to spend his life with. The one God had in mind for him.
How could he answer that question when she was engaged to another man? Plus he wasn’t sure if they stood on common ground faithwise. Another piece of wisdom from his mother…
He turned around and directed his gaze down the walkway. Patrick walked confidently in his uniform with his duffel slung over one shoulder and his son in his other arm. Marcia swaggered next to him, her face sour and her arms crossed. Behind them came Gail, holding Jennifer’s hand. The little girl clutched a Barbie doll in her other one. Henry secured the flank with their other daughter.
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