She filled two plates with fruit and cake and then delivered his plate to him. “I’d love to sit and chat, but I’ve got to make the rounds. Do you want to join me?”
He slid the plate closer to him. “No.”
She waited a beat for him to say something else, but when he didn’t, she headed back outside.
“Thank you.” The words were soft, maybe even forced, but they were there. Progress.
Gretchen didn’t turn around, but she lifted a hand in acknowledgement. “Any time.”
Maybe she could get through to the injured soldier somehow.
Chapter 2
Arthur was a rude, obnoxious idiot. His mother would be appalled at the way he’d spoken to Gretchen. Grief swept over him, and his gut clenched. He’d spent years not allowing himself to think of her but seeing Amy again had brought memories flooding back. So many of them good ones, and he squeezed his eyes shut to stop the tears.
When she’d died and Amy had disappeared, he’d had no one to turn to except his father. And the Major believed emotions made you weak.
Gretchen chatted to passengers as she passed around plates of food and offered them drinks. She hadn’t offered him food because she pitied him, but because it was what she did. It was her job. The realisation soothed some of his bitterness that had been building since he’d stepped onto the boat.
He was being baby-sat. Sam didn’t trust him enough to leave him alone but had framed it as if he needed a hand on the boat. Bollocks. His crew worked in a synchronised rhythm which reminded him of his own army teammates. Sam had tried to convince him to go swimming, but he didn’t need the shocked looks when people noticed his missing leg. He didn’t want to be the subject of pity porn photos.
Another part of him was worried he’d make a fool of himself. What if he couldn’t get back on the boat without help? That would be completely demoralising. Plus, his temporary prosthesis would rust if he swam with it.
Arthur bit into the sweet, juicy segment of orange and was taken back to his primary school days. Getting home from school, Amy in tow, and finding their mother waiting for them, afternoon tea already on the table. If they were lucky, they had melting moments with glazed cherries on top, however it was usually some kind of fruit, often oranges, and he’d stick the peel in his mouth and pretend it was his teeth. It always made Amy laugh.
He’d forgotten that.
Without thinking, he stuck the peel over his teeth and glanced out the door where a few passengers were still hovering around the table. A teenager looked at him and smiled. Arthur smiled back, forgetting about the peel, and the boy laughed, giving him the thumbs up.
Arthur hastily removed the peel, but it was too late. The boy’s laughter had pierced his self-pity.
But if the kid had known about his leg…
The warmth left him. He had nothing to smile about.
The boat slowed and someone shouted, “Look!” Everyone rushed to the right of the boat, watching something in the water beyond where Arthur could see. Probably the whales.
In all his travels with the army, he’d never spent much time near the ocean, never seen whales in the wild. Some people were climbing the ladder to the top deck to get a better view. He wanted to see them too. He checked to make sure no one was watching him and then shifted, craning his neck to spot them. Nope, wrong angle. If he wanted to see them, he had to get up and walk out on the deck.
He glanced down at his right leg. He’d worn long pants and his sneakers matched.
Then there was the whole issue of his sensitive nerve endings, the pins and needles. Every step was a reminder he hadn’t practised as regularly as the therapist had told him to, not seeing the point of it. He felt as if he was walking with a peg leg.
Outside, Gretchen laughed at something a passenger said and then bent down to pick up goggles which had been abandoned on the floor. Long smooth legs, leading to very short navy blue shorts and a curvaceous butt.
Perfection.
His mouth went dry, and he smothered his body’s reaction. She wouldn’t look twice at him.
She spotted him watching her and smiled, walking over. “You coming out to have a look?”
He swallowed. “Not much space.” The words felt odd on his tongue. He was never good at speaking, and he hadn’t made much of an effort since the accident.
“There’s always room for one more.” She gestured him to stand. “Come on.”
He shifted and his leg spasmed, sending pain throughout his body. He groaned.
She hurried over. “Are you all right?”
