seemed to her that he still felt guilty about some of it and she wondered why he should hold this against himself for so long.
He seemed concerned about her interests, financial as well as personal. She hadn't taken a penny from Jim so it was hard to get along now living in Boston on a RN's salary. He advised her on a few investments to increase her capital. They talked movies, books, television. He seemed shy about expressing critical opinions, as though afraid to offend, though when he did express them he was smart and kind of funny. He made her laugh.
She thought it amazing and delightful to find that they had actually gone to the same school together and at roughly the same time, had probably passed one another at some point in the halls.
Sometimes he'd fly down to Boston for the weekend. Though it was hard for him because the restaurant was busiest on weekends, that was her only time off. Occasionally she'd drive to Plymouth.
In bed he was gentle, considerate, undemanding. She liked the feel of him, the smell of him.
She noted that while he had many acquaintances made through the business he seemed to have few friends. None of them close. She attributed this to his work schedule and a basic reserve in him. She had dinner a few times with his mother and father. The father seemed to warm to her immediately in his quiet way but his mother never did, nor Lydia to her. She thought the woman was probably a tough old bird—she was handling a severe case of rheumatoid arthritis with nothing more than the occasional dose of Tylenol and Lydia could admire that—but Ruth struck her as coarse, not the least endearing.
In July of 1986 they took a whole week off and flew to Jamaica to a resort where silly plastic shark's teeth substituted for money and the two of them lay basking in the sun drinking
piña
coladas and a lethal rum punch, dashing indoors to escape the drenching daily ten-minute rainstorms, dancing at night and eating the wonderful island food alfresco and making love, and at the end of that week, on a starless moonless night on the terrace of their hotel, he proposed to her.
She did not accept immediately. There was no question of his leaving the restaurant in New Hampshire. And it was hard for her to consider leaving behind her friends and job in Boston for a man she knew mostly from telephone calls and weekends. Hard to consider marrying any man again even though she had come to be very fond of this one. Almost, but not quite, in love with him.
She reminded herself that she had been in love with Jim.
And that was a disaster.
Love was not necessarily a requirement.
She consented in September over drinks at The Caves. Quite a number of drinks. Enough so that in the future she'd wonder sometimes how much they'd actually had to do with it. By then she'd seen certain sides to him that had not been apparent before and which would certainly have prevented her from marrying Arthur Danse had she known of them. No matter how many margaritas she'd had that night.
By then she knew all about the guns.
She knew about the father and mother.
She knew about the bouts of drinking.
She also knew that the expected had happened, that she had come to care for him despite all this. Sometimes she thought you could fall in love with anyone if you lived with them long enough and got to know them. She saw the remorse in the aftermath of his drinking. She saw the deep, almost childlike dependency upon his parents—especially upon his mother. She saw that to him firearms meant a kind of status and power and wondered why he needed them.
But for all this she doubted he was much different from any man.
That was how she felt at first.
It all changed when she had her baby. Their son Robert.
Their only child.
Seven
Coming Out Party
Plymouth, New Hampshire
September 1987
He watched her read in bed.
The night was unseasonably mild so she had the bedroom windows open and the covers off the bed and she lay there on the
He seemed concerned about her interests, financial as well as personal. She hadn't taken a penny from Jim so it was hard to get along now living in Boston on a RN's salary. He advised her on a few investments to increase her capital. They talked movies, books, television. He seemed shy about expressing critical opinions, as though afraid to offend, though when he did express them he was smart and kind of funny. He made her laugh.
She thought it amazing and delightful to find that they had actually gone to the same school together and at roughly the same time, had probably passed one another at some point in the halls.
Sometimes he'd fly down to Boston for the weekend. Though it was hard for him because the restaurant was busiest on weekends, that was her only time off. Occasionally she'd drive to Plymouth.
In bed he was gentle, considerate, undemanding. She liked the feel of him, the smell of him.
She noted that while he had many acquaintances made through the business he seemed to have few friends. None of them close. She attributed this to his work schedule and a basic reserve in him. She had dinner a few times with his mother and father. The father seemed to warm to her immediately in his quiet way but his mother never did, nor Lydia to her. She thought the woman was probably a tough old bird—she was handling a severe case of rheumatoid arthritis with nothing more than the occasional dose of Tylenol and Lydia could admire that—but Ruth struck her as coarse, not the least endearing.
In July of 1986 they took a whole week off and flew to Jamaica to a resort where silly plastic shark's teeth substituted for money and the two of them lay basking in the sun drinking
piña
coladas and a lethal rum punch, dashing indoors to escape the drenching daily ten-minute rainstorms, dancing at night and eating the wonderful island food alfresco and making love, and at the end of that week, on a starless moonless night on the terrace of their hotel, he proposed to her.
She did not accept immediately. There was no question of his leaving the restaurant in New Hampshire. And it was hard for her to consider leaving behind her friends and job in Boston for a man she knew mostly from telephone calls and weekends. Hard to consider marrying any man again even though she had come to be very fond of this one. Almost, but not quite, in love with him.
She reminded herself that she had been in love with Jim.
And that was a disaster.
Love was not necessarily a requirement.
She consented in September over drinks at The Caves. Quite a number of drinks. Enough so that in the future she'd wonder sometimes how much they'd actually had to do with it. By then she'd seen certain sides to him that had not been apparent before and which would certainly have prevented her from marrying Arthur Danse had she known of them. No matter how many margaritas she'd had that night.
By then she knew all about the guns.
She knew about the father and mother.
She knew about the bouts of drinking.
She also knew that the expected had happened, that she had come to care for him despite all this. Sometimes she thought you could fall in love with anyone if you lived with them long enough and got to know them. She saw the remorse in the aftermath of his drinking. She saw the deep, almost childlike dependency upon his parents—especially upon his mother. She saw that to him firearms meant a kind of status and power and wondered why he needed them.
But for all this she doubted he was much different from any man.
That was how she felt at first.
It all changed when she had her baby. Their son Robert.
Their only child.
Seven
Coming Out Party
Plymouth, New Hampshire
September 1987
He watched her read in bed.
The night was unseasonably mild so she had the bedroom windows open and the covers off the bed and she lay there on the
Similar Books
Deeper Water
Robert Whitlow
Her Cyborg
Nellie C. Lind
Cobra Alliance-Cobra War Book 1
Timothy Zahn
Crossed: Book Two (A NEW ADULT ROMANCE)
Emma Browning
Secret Seduction
Jill Sanders
Secrets Behind Those Eyes
S.M. Donaldson
The Billionaire's Island Romance (The Romero Brothers, Book 3.5)
Shadonna Richards
Snowleg
Nicholas Shakespeare
Falter
Haven Cage
Demon Wind
Kay wilde