He had. He dropped it, wiped the crumbs off on his napkin, and folded his hands on the table in front of him. “Guess I was full.” He tried for a sheepish smile.
She reached across the table toward him, an invitation. “I’ve been concerned. Mary always talked about how much fun you were, but you’ve been so quiet and serious since I arrived.”
“These are tense times.” Not only in the world, but in his own life.
“That’s true.” Quintessa wiggled her fingers on the table, the invitation even louder.
Jim ignored it, and he leaned closer so as to lower his voice. “We ship out today.”
“Today? So soon? We’ve barely had any time together.”
“We’re ready. I’m ready.”
“Oh.” She retracted her hand, and her mouth pinched.
He didn’t mean to hurt her feelings. “I can’t tell you or anyone else what we’re doing out there, but it’s necessary. Lives are at stake.”
“I understand.” She reinforced her words with a smile. “Sorry if I sounded selfish. I know you have important work to do. When do you have to be back?”
Jim checked his watch. “Half an hour.”
“Half an hour? Oh my. I thought we’d have the whole day. Well, we’ll just have to spend every minute together.” She peeked at him through her lashes. “May I see you off?”
His throat glued shut. Images flashed through his mind of the crowd on the wharf, the families embracing, the couples kissing, Mary’s soft hands pulling him down, deep into her kiss, his arms around her, his lips on hers—
“I’m sorry.” Quintessa glanced away, her forehead puckered. “That was forward of me.”
“No, it’s fine. Please come. Arch will want to say good-bye too.”
“Will he? He’s such a good friend for you. We have to find him a new girlfriend. Are you sure he and Mary—”
“No.” The word came out too loud and harsh, so he mustered a smile. “Trust me, no. Shall we go?”
Jim slapped down a couple of dollars for the bill and helped Quintessa with her coat.
On the walk to the Navy Yard in the cool clear air, Quintessa walked close to his side, her shoulder brushing his, an invitation for him to offer his hand or at least his elbow. But he didn’t want to, didn’t want her choosing his path for him, so he jammed his hands into his coat pockets.
At the wharf, a crowd of sailors and family members was forming. On Liberty Fleet Day, the men wore their summer whites, and he had Mary Stirling on his arm in her red dress. Now the men wore navy blue overcoats, and Quintessa Beaumont threaded her arm through his.
Never once had he minded when Mary held his arm. In fact, he offered her his arm all the time, even when he hadn’t been interested in her. It was the chivalrous thing for a man to do with a lady. But now Quintessa’s touch bothered him, as if her tiny gloved hand staked her claim.
Why did it irritate him? Why this discontent?
His eyes widened, taking in the gray ship and the blue sky and the truth he’d begged God for. This discontent was like sonar alerting him that he was floating toward the rocks.
His path didn’t lie with Quintessa, but along that uncertain and unpaved road.
A surge of rightness and determination rushed into his chest. If he showed Mary his interest, told her how he felt, maybe her heart would bend to him. Even if it didn’t, even if he made a complete fool of himself and lost his friendship with her, it was the true thing to do. True to his heart, true to where God seemed to be leading him.
If God wanted to lead him into a storm, so be it. He’d promised, “When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee.” The Lord would be with him in the storm, and something good would come out of it, some purpose, even if Jim didn’t see it for decades.
All around him, men and officers said their romantic good-byes. Jim needed to get away now, but how could he put this fresh new plan into words, knowing those words would hurt Quintessa?
Nevertheless, it had to be done. He faced her.
“Hey, Mr. Avery! Kiss her!”
Jim cringed. Oh no. Not again. Not with Quintessa.Please, Lord, make them stop.
