“So I’d imagine it would be hard to find anyone who can measure up.”
“I don’t expect anyone to measure up.” I shoved my hands in my pockets and dug around for the words. “I mean, I’m not looking for an exact replacement, like a lightbulb.”
“Still, I would think it would be hard not to compare someone new against her.” Hope angled her face up at me, her eyes earnest and bright. “I’ve done a lot of reading about moving on after a marriage ends since my divorce. Not that my divorce was anything like losing your wife—your tragedy was much, much greater.” Her eyebrows pulled together, and I could see she was worried she’d offended me again. Once more, I felt a stab of remorse for acting like such a jerk around her. “Anyway, from what I read, apparently the first few times you’re with someone new, it’s inevitable that you’ll be thinking of the ways the person is physically like or unlike your ex—or in your case, deceased... or late... or missing... or... Oh, you know what I mean.” She looked down. It was too dark to see her face, but I was pretty sure she was blushing. The fast, nonstop way she was talking was a dead giveaway that shewas rattled. “The point is, when you kiss them, chances are you’ll be thinking about your spouse.”
I looked at her, amused. “Is that right.”
“Well, I wouldn’t know, personally. I mean, that’s what I read. I still have to go through it.”
I gave her a teasing smile. “Want me to help you out?”
I thought I’d embarrass her into silence, but when Hope was on a roll, apparently there was no stopping her mouth. “What a chivalrous offer! I mean, you’re really living up to your picture on the mural. Not that a real knight would actually kiss a lady—not on the mouth, I mean. I don’t think real knights touched a lady except maybe on the hand. We studied the Middle Ages pretty extensively in my art history classes, and...”
I’d made the offer in jest, but then I looked at her mouth, which had abruptly quit moving, and I realized she was looking at mine. And then... well, it just happened. I’m not sure of the specifics—if I stepped toward her, or she leaned toward me, or if we both moved simultaneously. I just know that the minute my mouth made contact with hers, an arrow of heat shot through my chest, down my belly, and kept on traveling south. My arms found their way around her, and hers wrapped around me, and then everything got all hot and smoky and urgent. I pulled her closer, and she stood on her tiptoes and pressed into my erection, and...
A car rounded the corner, the headlights glaring. Snowball barked. We simultaneously jumped away from each other.
We stood there, breathing hard, awkward and self-conscious as the car passed. Hope shifted Snowball’s leash to her other hand.
“Well,” I had the genius to say.
“Yeah. Well,” she echoed.
I hooked my thumb in the direction of my house. “I, uh, better be getting back.”
“Me, too.” But she didn’t move. We stood there, staring at each other, the awkwardness swelling to a crescendo.
“So, thanks for helping me past that hurdle,” she said.
My brain was still swaddled in lust. It took me a moment to recall what we’d been talking about. “No problem. Glad to be of service.”
I could think of another service I’d like to provide, but offering it would only make the situation worse.
She smiled at me—a quick, amused, embarrassed little half smile that made my temperature start rising all over again. “I’d better get Snowball home.”
I nodded and trudged along beside her. At the sidewalk to her grandmother’s porch, she turned to me.
“I didn’t think of him.” She spoke so softly I wasn’t sure I’d heard her correctly.
“What?”
“My ex. When you... when we...” She ducked her head. “I didn’t think of him.” She flew up the porch steps, opened the door, and slipped inside before I could muster a response.
I stood there for a long moment, staring at the closed door. Because the truth of the matter was, I hadn’t thought of Christine, either.
22
adelaide
Aheavy blanket of fatigue, along with a clutter of daily activities—doctors’ appointments, physical therapy sessions, and home nurses, aides, and friends running in and out of the house—made me lose a few days. It might even have been a week. Or more.
But one afternoon, I found myself awake and alone with Hope. “Where did we leave off talking about Joe?”
“You never told me if you saw him again after he left New Orleans.”
The memories came crowding in like animals on Noah’s ark, and then I was sailing into the past.
1943
