Navy Husband Page 22


“For her pity parties, Mom likes popcorn best. The more butter the better,” she said matter-of-factly. “We had several of them after Dad died. But Mom didn’t call them pity parties.”

“What did she call them?”

“Tea parties, but we only had them when we were feeling sad.”

“Always with buttered popcorn?”

“It goes good with tea,” Jazmine said. “I don’t think she had a name for them at first. I woke up one night and saw her crying in front of the TV, and she said sad movies always made her cry. Then I asked her why she watched them.”

Shana already knew the answer to that. “Because she needed a good cry.”

Jazmine nodded again. “That’s exactly what Mom said.” The girl sighed heavily, then added in a small voice, “I don’t want her to be sad.”

“Me, neither, but it’s part of life, Jazz. It’s not good to be too sad or for too long, but being sad has its place. For one thing, sadness makes happiness that much more wonderful.”

Jazmine looked at her thoughtfully, awareness dawning in her eyes.

“Now, it’s been a while since I had an official pity party,” Shana said briskly. “One is long overdue.” She’d made a couple of weak attempts when she left Brad, but she’d been too angry with him to do it properly. If anything, their breakup had left her feeling strong and decisive. That high hadn’t lasted, and she’d found it emotionally difficult to reconcile herself to the end of the relationship—but only for a short time. Thanks to Adam…

She thought that breaking off her engagement—or whatever it was—with Brad did call for a party, but a real party with banners and food, champagne and music and lots of people. She smiled as she considered how far she’d come.

“What’s so funny?” Jazmine asked.

Shana instantly sobered. “Remember a few weeks ago, when you said I had issues?”

“Yeah.”

“One of those issues was Brad.”

Jazmine rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it!”

Shana laughed out loud. “I was just thinking I never really had a pity party over him.”

Jazmine cocked her head quizzically. “Do women always throw these parties because of men?”

“Hmm.”

Shana had never given the matter much thought. “Yes,” she said firmly. “It’s always about men.”

“That’s what I figured.” Jazmine shook her head sadly, as if this reasoning was beyond her.

They loaded up with chocolate-mint ice cream, and whipped topping for good measure, and headed out the door. Shana had to make a quick stop at the bank, but they were home before the ice cream had a chance to melt.

Within ten minutes, they were both lying on their backs, dressed in old flannel pajamas, studying the ceiling.

“Remember when Brad phoned you a little while ago?” Jazmine asked.

“Yup.” Shana didn’t want to dwell on Brad. She wanted to think about Adam and how much they were going to miss him. Brad paled in comparison to Adam Kennedy.

“Why did he call?”

Shana rolled onto her stomach and raised her head. “He realized the error of his ways.”

Jazmine rolled over, too. “Are you going to take him back?”

Shana didn’t even need to think about it. “No.”

Jazmine solemnly agreed. “He had his turn.”

Boy, did he!

“Uncle Adam is next in line.”

It occurred to Shana to explain that pity parties were usually wakes for relationships. This wake was for Adam and her. Shana was cutting her losses now, doing her best to accept the likely end of their brief romance and move forward.

“What if Brad came to Seattle?” Jazmine asked excitedly, as if that were a distinct possibility. “What would you do then?”

Shana flopped onto her back again. “Nothing.”

“Not a thing?”

“Not a single, solitary thing.”

“What if he offered you an engagement ring?”

Shana grinned. “First, I’d faint from the shock of it, and then I’d…I’d ask to see his ID. Make sure this was really Brad.”

“Would you cry?”

“I doubt it.”

“But you’d turn him down, right?”

“Wait a minute.” Shana pulled herself into a sitting position. “Is there any particular reason for all these questions about Brad?”

Jazmine sighed loudly. “I wanted to be sure you’re really, really over that rat.”

“Rat?”

“That’s what Mom called him.”

Shana smothered a giggle. “Hey, I thought we were throwing this party because of your uncle Adam,” she said. It hadn’t escaped her notice how cleverly Jazmine had changed the subject.

“We are.”

“So, why bring up Brad?”

Her question was met with silence, and then Jazmine ventured, “Remember how you knew Uncle Adam might be stationed in Hawaii and you didn’t tell me?”

“Yes, but what’s that got to do with—” She hesitated and drew in her breath. “Is there something you aren’t telling me?” she demanded, aware that she was repeating Jazmine’s earlier question.

Her niece sighed dramatically. “Promise you won’t be mad.”

“Jazmine!”

“Okay, okay. Brad phoned again. I answered and I told him you’re seeing someone else now.”

“You didn’t!”

Jazmine giggled. “I did, and you don’t want to know what he said about that, either.”

Chapter Sixteen

“What do you mean Brad phoned?” Shana demanded. “When? And why?” Not that she cared. Okay, she did, but only a little. He’d talked to her once, a few weeks ago, and she’d been polite and stiff and frankly had never expected to hear from him again. At one time, she’d dreamed about a big wedding with lots of bridesmaids all dressed in lovely pastel dresses of pink and yellow. Her sister and three of her best friends would’ve looked like a neat row of huge after-dinner mints. At least she’d spared them that.

“He called last week and I answered the phone,” Jazmine muttered. “We…talked. For a while.”

That sounded ominous. Shana could only imagine what Brad had to say to her niece—and vice versa.

“He told me he wants you back.”

“Of course he does,” Shana muttered. That made sense. Now that she was out of his life, he missed everything she’d done for him.

“When he asked how your social life was these days—that’s exactly what he said—I told him about Uncle Adam and he wasn’t very happy,” Jazmine continued.

“No,” Shana agreed. “He probably wasn’t.” Just like Brad to pump a nine-year-old for information.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Jazmine muttered, “but I wanted Brad to know he lost out on the opportunity of a lifetime.”

That was a typically grandiose Jazmine remark, and Shana smiled. Still, it was gratifying to know Brad missed her, even if it was for the wrong reasons. He must’ve been shocked to learn she’d met someone else.

“I hope you aren’t mad.”

“No, but…it isn’t a good idea to be giving out personal information over the phone.”

“I know, but he kept asking me about your social life and if you were seeing anyone, and it felt good to tell him you were and that Uncle Adam is a lieutenant commander in the United States Navy.” This was said with a good deal of pride.

Shana bet that caused ol’Brad to sit up and take notice.

“I wish my mom was here,” Jazmine confessed suddenly. “I’m worried about her.”

Shana wrapped her arm around Jazmine’s shoulders and drew her close. “She seems to be in good spirits.” Or she had been until recently.

“She sounds happy when she e-mails me,” Jazmine said. “But sometimes I wonder if she’s telling the truth.”

The kid certainly had her mother pegged.

Jazmine leaned against Shana. “This has been good,” she said decisively. “It’s even better than a tea party. Except we didn’t watch a movie or eat our ice cream—but we can do that now. How about…the first Harry Potter movie? I’ve got the DVD.”

“Sure.”

“I’m going to miss Uncle Adam,” Jazmine told her sadly. “It won’t be the same without him.”

Shana could only agree.

Jazmine was asleep an hour later. She lay curled up on the sofa with an afghan covering her. Shana turned off the television set and logged on to the computer.

Sent: July 15

From: [email protected] /* */

To: [email protected] /* */

Subject: My love/hate relationship with men!

Dear Ali,

I hope you realize what a terrific kid you have. Jazmine and I have just spent the last two hours sharing secrets (plus eating ice cream and watching a Harry Potter movie).

Adam got his orders for Hawaii and didn’t even have time to say goodbye. Even worse, I got stuck telling Jazmine.

Trust me, I wasn’t too happy with him. I would’ve let him know how I felt about that, but I was in shock. Do transfers always happen this fast in the Navy? Never mind, he already explained that they don’t. Getting back to Jazmine. She took the news about Adam fairly well. I wasn’t sure what I expected and I know she’s upset, but as Adam said, she’s a Navy kid. She did ask if I knew in advance, and I had to confess that I did. Once I admitted I’d been holding out on her, her own heavily guarded secret came out.

Are you ready for this? Our Jazmine had a conversation with Brad! Apparently he phoned and she informed him I was seeing someone else. I wish she hadn’t…. Well, to be honest, that’s not entirely true. He told Jazmine that he misses me. Interesting, don’t you think? Not to worry, I’d never go back to him.

Once we’d both confessed our secrets, we talked about you and discovered we’re both concerned. Jazz is afraid you’re hiding your feelings from her—and Alison, I have to tell you that your daughter has good instincts. I didn’t say anything, but I know you’ve been down lately. You refuse to answer my questions about Commander Dillon, and my guess is this involves him. I know, I know, you’ve already said it a dozen times—there’s nothing between you. Technically I’m sure that’s true, but…there’s more to the situation, isn’t there?

What you say or don’t say to Jazz is up to you, but she sees through you far too easily, so don’t try to pull the wool over her eyes. Jazmine would rather deal with the truth than worry about what’s troubling you. Oh, one last thing. The kid has graduated from tea parties to ice cream. You can thank me for that.

Keep in touch.

Love,

Shana

The following evening, when Shana arrived home from work exhausted, cranky and hungry for something other than pizza or canned chili, the phone rang. With unwarranted optimism, she opened the refrigerator and searched for inspiration—something easy and fast that would pass for healthy. Or sort of healthy. The wilted green pepper, leftover Chinese fried rice and half can of clam chowder weren’t appealing.

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