Navy Husband

“I hope so.” But Shana wasn’t sure that was true. There were only a few weeks left of the school year. Just when Jazmine had managed to adjust, it would be time for summer break. And what would Shana do with her then? It was a question she couldn’t answer. Not yet, anyway.

With reluctance she walked back to her parked car and drove to Olsen’s Ice Cream and Pizza Parlor. She’d thought about changing the name, but the restaurant had been called this for the last thirty years. A new name might actually be a disadvantage, so she’d decided to keep everything the same for now.

Shana’s day went smoothly after her visit to the school. She was on her own now, her training with the Olsens finished. They insisted the secret to their pizza was the tomato sauce, made from their special recipe. That recipe had been kept secret for over thirty years. Only when the final papers had been signed was Shana allowed to have the recipe, which to her untrained eye looked fairly unspectacular. She was almost sure her mother used to make something similar for spaghetti and had gotten the recipe out of a “Dear Abby” column years ago.

There was a huge mixing machine and, following the Olsens’ example, she went into the shop each morning to mix up a batch of dough and let it rise. Once the dough had risen, it was put in the refrigerator, awaiting the day’s pizza orders. The restaurant opened at eleven and did a brisk lunch trade. How much or how little dough to make was complete guesswork. Shana’s biggest fear was that she’d run short. As a consequence she usually mixed too much. But she was learning.

At three o’clock, Shana found herself watching for the school bus. Jazmine was to be dropped off in front of the ice-cream parlor. From noon on, she’d constantly checked the time, wondering and worrying about her niece. The elementary students she’d seen looked like a rough crowd—okay, maybe not the first-and second-graders, but the ones in the fifth and sixth grades, who were giants compared to Jazmine. Shana just hoped the girl could hold her own.

Business was constant—people waiting to catch ferries, high-school students, retired folk, tourists. Shana planned to hire a part-time employee soon. Another idea she had was to introduce soup to the menu. She’d already experimented with a number of mixes, both liquid and dry, and hadn’t found anything that impressed her. Shana was leaning toward making her own from scratch but her experience in cooking large batches was limited.

A bus rolled into view and Shana instantly went on alert. Sure enough, Jazmine stepped off, wearing a frown, and marched inside. Without a word to Shana, she slid into a booth.

“Well,” Shana said, unable to disguise her anxiety, “how was it?”

Jazmine shrugged.

“Oh.” Her niece wasn’t exactly forthcoming with details. Thinking fast, Shana asked the questions her mother had bombarded her with every day after school. “What did you learn? Anything interesting?”

Jazmine shook her head.

“Did you make any new friends?”

Jazmine scowled up at her. “No.”

That was said emphatically enough for Shana to surmise that things hadn’t gone well. “I see.” Glancing over her shoulder, Shana sighed. “Are you hungry? I could make you a pizza.”

“No, thanks.”

The bell above the door rang and a customer entered, moving directly to the ice-cream case. Shana slipped behind the counter and waited patiently until the woman had made her selection. As she scooped chocolate chip–mint ice cream into a waffle cone, she realized something was different about Jazmine. Not until her customer left did she figure out what it was.

“Jazz,” she said, startled, “where’s your backpack?”

Her niece didn’t answer.

“Did you forget it at school? We could run by to pick it up if you want.” Not until the parlor closed at six, but she didn’t mention that. During the summer it wouldn’t be until eight o’clock; she didn’t mention that, either.

Jazmine scowled even more ferociously.

Shana hadn’t known how much fury a nine-year-old girl’s eyes could convey. Her niece’s anger seemed to be focused solely on Shana. The unfairness of it struck her, but any attempt at conversation was instantly blocked.

It was obvious that someone had taken the backpack from Jazmine. No wonder the girl wasn’t in a happy frame of mind.

Feeling wretched and helpless, Shana slid into the booth across from her niece. She didn’t say anything for several minutes, then gently squeezed Jazmine’s hand. “I am so sorry.”

Jazmine shrugged as if it was no big thing, but it was and Shana felt at a loss. Without her niece’s knowing, she’d speak to the principal in the morning and see what could be done. She guessed it’d happened on the bus or off school grounds.

“Can I use your phone?” Jazmine asked.

“Of course.”

Jazmine’s eyes fleetingly met hers as she pulled a piece of paper from her hip pocket. “It’s long distance.”

“You’re not calling Paris, are you?”

The question evoked an almost-smile. “No.”

“Sure, go ahead.” Shana gestured toward the phone on the back wall in the kitchen.

Jazmine thanked her with a faint smile. This counted as profuse appreciation and Shana was nearly overwhelmed by gratitude. Despite their shaky beginning she was starting to reach this kid.

“I’m phoning my uncle Adam,” Jazmine announced. “He’ll know what to do.”

This uncle Adam seemed to have all the answers. She hadn’t even met him and already she didn’t like him. No one could be that perfect.

On Monday afternoon, Adam Kennedy opened the door to his apartment near Everett Naval Station, glad to be home. He’d just been released from the naval hospital, where he’d recently undergone rotator cuff surgery. His shoulder throbbed and he felt so light-headed he had to brace his hand against the wall in order to steady himself. He’d be fine in a couple of days, but at the moment he was still shaky.

The apartment was dark with the drapes pulled, but he didn’t have the energy to walk across the room and open them.

It wouldn’t be like this if he had a wife, who’d be able to look after him while he felt so weak. This wasn’t the first time that thought had occurred to Adam. He’d never intended to be a thirty-two-year-old bachelor.

Adam sank into his favorite chair and winced at the pain that shot down his arm. Leaning his head back against the cushion, he closed his eyes and envisioned what his life would be like if he was married. A wife would be fussing over him now, acting concerned and looking for ways to make him comfortable. Granted, if comfort was all he wanted, he could pay for it. A wife—well, having a wife meant companionship and sharing things. Like a bed…It also involved that frightening word, love.

If he was married now, she’d be asking how he felt and bringing him tea and caring about him. The fantasy filled his mind and he found himself smiling. What he needed was the right woman. His track record in that department left a great deal to be desired.

He’d started out fine. When he graduated from college he’d been engaged, but while he was in Officer Candidate School, Melanie had a sudden change of heart. Actually, she still wanted to get married, just not to him. The tearful scene in which she confessed that she’d fallen in love with someone else wasn’t a memory he wanted to reminisce over, especially now. Suffice it to say, his ego had taken a major beating. In the long run, though, Melanie wasn’t that great a loss. If she had a roving eye this early in their relationship, it didn’t bode well for the lengthy separations a Navy career would demand of their marriage.

The thing was, Adam wanted children. One of his proudest moments was when Peter had asked him to be Jazmine’s godfather. He took his duties seriously and loved that little girl, and he’d felt especially protective of her since his friend’s death. He hadn’t heard from her in a while and wondered how she was doing after the recent move to San Diego. He’d have to get in touch with her soon.

Adam had envied Peter his marriage. He’d never seen two people more in love with each other or better suited. They were about as perfect a match as possible. Adam suspected that fact had been a detriment to him in his own quest for a relationship. He kept looking for a woman as well suited to him as Ali had been to his friend. If such a woman existed, Adam hadn’t found her, and he’d about given up. It wasn’t Ali he wanted, but a woman who was his equal in all the ways Ali had been Peter’s. A woman with brains and courage and heart. At this stage he’d take two out of three. Ali had brought out the best in Peter; she’d made a good man better.

A sense of sadness came over him as he thought about Peter. Adam had a couple of younger brothers, Sam and Doug, and the three of them were close, but Peter and Adam had been even closer. They’d met in OCS, Officer Candidate School, kept in contact afterward and later were stationed together in Italy. During weekend holidays, Peter and Ali had him over for countless dinners. The three of them had sat on their balcony in the Italian countryside drinking wine and talking well into the night. Those were some of the happiest memories of his life.

Then Peter had been killed. Adam had been a witness to the accident that claimed his best friend’s life. He still had nightmares about it and experienced the same rush of horror, anger, frustration he’d felt at the time. He’d gone with the Casualty Assistance Counseling Officer to tell Ali that her husband was dead. In his heart, he’d promised Peter that he’d look out for both Ali and Jazz but the Navy hadn’t made it easy.

Ali was currently stationed at the hospital in San Diego and he was in Everett. He phoned at least once a month to check up on them and Jazmine called him every now and then when she needed to talk. He always enjoyed their conversations. Peter would be proud of both the women in his life, he mused. Jazmine was a great kid and Ali was a wonderful mother.

Adam noticed the blinking light on his answering machine. He knew there were more messages than he had the patience or endurance to deal with just yet. He’d leave it until morning when he had a fresh supply of energy.

He sighed. He wasn’t used to feeling like this—despondent and weary. Coming home to an empty apartment underlined a truth he didn’t want to acknowledge. Lieutenant Commander Adam Kennedy was lonely.

He stared blankly across the room, half toying with the notion of a romantic relationship with Ali. It didn’t take him more than a second to realize it wouldn’t work. He loved Ali—like a sister. Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to view her as a marriage prospect. She was his best friend’s widow, a woman he admired, a woman he thought of as family.

Yet…he wanted what she’d had, what she and Peter had shared, and the deep contentment their marriage had brought them.

By morning, he would’ve forgotten all these yearnings, he told himself. He’d lived alone so long now that he should certainly be accustomed to his own company. When he was at sea, it was a different story, since he was constantly surrounded by others. As a Supply Officer he was normally stationed aboard the Benjamin Franklin. Unfortunately the Franklin was currently headed toward the Persian Gulf. Until his shoulder healed, he’d be twiddling his thumbs behind some desk and hating it.

After a while Adam felt better. His head had stopped spinning and the ache in his shoulder wasn’t quite as intense. It would be easy to close his eyes and sleep but if he slept now, he’d spend the whole night staring at the ceiling.