16 Lighthouse Road (11 page)

She was probably right. He couldn't think about the events of last year and not feel depressed.

He stood and pulled out her chair. Ian remembered how she'd told him, after their first date, that those small old-fashioned courtesies impressed her. He had his father to thank
for that. Denny Randall had been a stickler for etiquette and taught all four of his sons well.

“I'm glad you came.”

Cecilia smiled as she reached for her linen napkin and set it on her lap before reading the menu. They always ordered the same dish, the phad thai, but it didn't hurt to look.

Ian suspected she was already regretting that she'd agreed to see him. He hoped that once he explained why he'd asked her here, she'd change her mind. It was hard to remember he wasn't supposed to love her anymore, because he did. He'd never stopped.

The waitress arrived and they ordered. Ian was mildly surprised when she asked for something different. He didn't hear the name. Perhaps this was her way of letting him know she was willing to try new things, to change. He wasn't sure if he was simply looking for signs, reading her behaviour too closely—and if it
was
a sign, was it a good one?

As soon as the waitress left, Ian decided to launch into his proposition.

“I'm really glad you signed up for those college classes,” he said. “How's it going?”

“Good. Although I feel like I'm a thousand years older than everyone else.”

Actually Cecilia had left high school only four years ago. He was two years older than she was.

“Your car's not giving you problems, is it?”

“No.” She sounded almost defiant.

“That's good.” He wanted her to know how strongly he approved of her going back to school. They'd had a number of arguments over her working at the restaurant; Cecilia
thought it was because he was jealous of her being around other men. Maybe that was a small part of his reaction, but there was more. He felt Cecilia was wasting her abilities, her potential. She was smart, a whole lot smarter than she gave herself credit for.

She glanced at him, and Ian had to resist an impulse to reach across the table and put his hand over hers. Sometimes he ached just wanting to touch her. It'd been months since he'd held her in his arms or kissed her. After Allison, it seemed that whatever she'd felt for him physically had died, too.

“My car's only two years old,” he said.

She didn't respond, as if she thought he was bragging or something.

“I know you're wondering why I asked to meet you, and it has to do with my car.” He had her attention, he noticed; that was a start. “I want you to drive it while I'm away.” He could see from her reaction that she was going to argue with him. “It's more dependable, especially in the mornings,” he added quickly, hoping she'd see the wisdom of accepting his offer.

Cecilia shook her head. “I appreciate it, but—”

“Actually you'd be doing me a favor.” Ian could tell she didn't believe him. “I mean it.”

“But…”

“It's not good to have an engine sit idle for six months,” he said in authoritative tones. “A lot of guys lend out their cars while they're deployed for that very reason.” Ian didn't know if this was true or not, but it made sense.

“I…I don't know.”

Their meals arrived, and Ian studied Cecilia's dish. Chicken breast on cooked spinach, he thought, with peanut sauce
ladled over top. He hadn't known she liked spinach. That was a pretty minor thing but it made him realize there was still a great deal they didn't know about each other.

“What do you think?” he asked. “About the car…”

“We're getting a divorce, Ian.”

He didn't welcome the reminder. “That doesn't have anything to do with it.”

“But…”

“The choice is yours, but like I said, I'll be lending it out and if you want to use it, fine. If not, I'll leave it with a friend.” He probably wouldn't, but he wanted her to think so.

“You don't have to do this.”

“I'd worry about you less.” That wasn't the smartest thing to admit. However, it was the truth. If she was driving twenty-plus miles every morning in the heavy shipyard traffic, he'd prefer to know she was in a more reliable vehicle than the dilapidated car she currently drove.

She smiled then, and it was as if everything in the world had righted itself. “This is really thoughtful of you.”

Damn, it was hard not to touch her. He shrugged off her words. “It's more for me and my car than anything.”

Her smile dimmed.

“And like I said, you'd be doing me a favor.”

They ate their dinner and lingered over tea. After an hour and a half, the restaurant was getting full, and their waitress was sending some obvious signals their way. But Ian didn't want the evening to end.

“How about a movie?” he suggested, hoping she'd agree but afraid she wouldn't.

To his surprise, she smiled and nodded.

Ian felt a surge of happiness…and optimism. He didn't care what they saw, as long as he could sit at her side and pretend the last eight months had never happened.

He let Cecilia choose the movie, and while he bought the tickets, she picked up a bag of buttered popcorn. They sat in the back row of the theater. Because it was a Thursday night, the place was practically deserted. Only one other couple showed up before the previews, and they sat near the front.

Ian placed his arm along the back of Cecilia's seat.

“We went to dinner at the Thai restaurant and then a movie on our first date, too,” she said casually.

As though Ian had forgotten. “Did we?”

“Yes.” Cecilia scooped up a handful of popcorn.

“Did I kiss you?”

She looked at him and blinked hard. “You mean you don't remember?”

He squeezed her shoulder. “I remember everything about that date,” he whispered. And every subsequent one. For the first month after they'd met, she was all he thought about. It was no thanks to him the Navy had survived, since his mind certainly wasn't on his job.

In addition to etiquette, his father had taught Ian about birth control. But every lesson he'd ever learned had vanished the first time they'd made love. He wasn't usually irresponsible, but he'd been so crazy about Cecilia they'd both taken wild chances. He didn't care, because he loved her. If she did get pregnant, that would be all the excuse he needed to marry her. He
wanted
to marry her. With an attitude like that, it was bound to happen sooner or later—and for them it had been sooner.

It took him weeks to talk her into marrying him. That
hadn't been easy on his ego. Her parents' failed relationship had left her with a real anxiety about marriage. The irony was that now
she
was the one who wanted out.

“I still remember our first kiss,” she said in a soft voice.

“You do?” Ian was surprised she'd admit it.

“No man had ever kissed me the way you do…did.”

“Do,” he corrected, and then not giving a damn if anyone saw him, he leaned down and brushed his mouth over hers. That kiss was an experiment to see how receptive she was. When her mouth parted and her tongue met his, Ian could hardly keep from groaning aloud. Her lips were soft and slippery from the butter and she tasted like popcorn and salt. His heart went wild; he loved her so much.

He knew he should stop. They weren't teenagers without a place to go for privacy. Nor did Ian want anyone to find him necking with his wife in the back of a theater. But those thoughts had barely made it into his head when he found any number of compelling reasons to continue doing exactly what he was doing.

“Ian,” she whispered, and slowly, reluctantly eased her mouth from his.

Ian kept his eyes closed and leaned his forehead against hers.

“Thank you for letting me use your car.”

He wanted to tell her how much he loved her, but he was afraid she'd pull away and the moment would be ruined.

“I'll take good care of it for you,” she promised.

“I'd rather you took good care of yourself,” he whispered back.

The movie started then, and Cecilia settled back, her head resting on his shoulder. He slid one arm around her; she
didn't object. Ian had no idea what the movie was about. He thought only of Cecilia, remembering the early days of their relationship and reveling in her nearness.

When the movie ended they walked slowly out of the theater, but Ian wasn't ready to leave her. “I want to come home with you,” he said, standing next to her car, the driver's door open. Just so there'd be no misunderstanding about what he intended, he kissed her again, his mouth hard and hot.

Her eyes still closed, Cecilia broke it off and lowered her head. “I don't think that's a good idea.”

“I do. Cecilia, we're married. It's been months since we made love.”

“We're getting divorced.”

“Fine, divorce me later, but love me now. I need you.”

“Ian…”

She didn't say no, but she didn't quite say yes, either. Ian followed her home. When she arrived, he climbed quickly out of his car and opened the building door to let her in.

He waited in the hallway while Cecilia unlocked the apartment. She glanced over her shoulder.

It was all the invitation Ian needed. She met him just inside; he closed the door with his foot and reached for her. She came to him willingly, throwing her arms around his neck.

Ian lifted her from the floor and they kissed with such abandon that the world could have come to an end and they wouldn't have noticed. He removed her sweater and her bra, kissing her as he peeled away the layers of clothing. Her breasts seemed to throb in his hands.

“Don't make me wait,” she pleaded.

Even in the dark, Ian had no trouble finding the bedroom. He held her by one hand and led her there.

He placed her on the bed, pressing against her, all the while kissing her slowly, dragging out each kiss until he thought he'd explode. The blood pounded in his ears as he stepped back and stripped off his own clothes. Cecilia shed her slacks.

It'd been so long, too long, and he was ready. He prayed she was, too. His gaze sought out hers in the dim moonlight that filtered through the bedroom curtains. She smiled softly and lifted her arms to him. He felt overwhelming relief—and then he was on his knees over her.

She linked her arms around his neck and they kissed until they were breathless and he entered her. Slowly, so slowly, for fear of hurting her. When he paused, Cecilia whimpered, urging him to continue.

“Cecilia…” He groaned her name when he realized what he'd done. He had protection with him, and here they were risking the possibility of another pregnancy. “I didn't… I should—”

“No.” Her arms tightened around him. “Don't stop. Not now. It's all right…this is my safe time.”

God forgive him his weakness, but he did as she asked and poured his life into her.

Afterward Ian held her, kissing her repeatedly. Maybe now this insanity about divorce would be over. Maybe now they could go back to being married. But he was afraid to suggest it, afraid she'd reject him.

A few minutes later, he stood and retrieved his clothes. Cecilia sat up on the bed, clasping her knees with both arms,
and watched him dress. He silently begged her to speak, invite him to stay the night.

She didn't.

This was crazy, idiotic! They'd just finished making love. She
had
to know how he felt about her. He hadn't tried to hide his feelings. He waited for her to say something, to stop him. A word, that was all it would take. One damn word. She wasn't willing to give him even that. So he left.

 

Grace was in a glorious mood. The entire world could now be viewed through rose-colored glasses, and all because she was going to become a grandmother. That news was just the boost her life and her marriage had needed. Dan's spirits, too, had revived, and they'd had a wonderful talk, reminiscing over the early years of their own marriage when their daughters were young. In the weeks since Kelly's phone call, Grace's love for her husband had been rekindled. The dark times they'd experienced recently had clouded her perspective on their years together. Maybe she didn't always get what she wanted from Dan, what she needed, but she did love him.

They'd been little more than teenagers when they got married. So young… It hadn't mattered that they'd lived below the poverty line, they were happy. Vietnam had shaken up their lives, but they'd survived and so had the marriage.

Wednesday night was her aerobics class, and Grace hurried in the front door, coming straight home from the library. To her surprise, the house on Rosewood Lane was dark and silent.

“Dan?” she called out. Almost always he was home before her.

Nothing.

The first thing her husband did when he walked in was turn
on the television. He showered and changed clothes, but the TV was on, even if he wasn't watching.

He hadn't mentioned anything that morning about being late. She checked the calendar to be sure he didn't have a dentist's or doctor's appointment, but nothing was noted. Pulling hamburger out of the refrigerator, she hurriedly put together a casserole and placed it in the oven, then packed her exercise clothes and tennis shoes inside her gym bag.

The phone rang and she answered it immediately, expecting to hear Dan's voice. The caller was someone wanting to ask her questions for a survey; she got rid of him in short order. Answering the phone prompted her to check the machine, but there were no messages.

When the oven timer went off sixty minutes later, she took out the beef-and-rice casserole and set it on the stovetop to cool. Wednesday evenings were hectic for Grace. Dan didn't object to her attending the exercise class, but he didn't like waiting for her to return before he ate dinner. Consequently, Grace rushed home, got a meal on the table and then rushed out the door to meet Olivia for their seven o'clock class.