The Guardian (20 page)

Through their drinks, he kept up a stream of conversation and even made her laugh a couple of times, but by the time dinner came, his nerves were so jangled that he couldn't remember much of anything that was said.

Get a hold of yourself, he thought.

Mike was not being himself.Julie wasn't surprised. She knew it would take a while for him to loosen up. Still, she hoped it would happen a little sooner rather than later. She wasn't completely comfortable, either, and he wasn't exactly making it easy on her. The way his eyes kept boggling every time she touched her glass made her want to ask if he'd ever seen anyone drink wine before. The first time it happened, she thought he was trying to warn her that she was on the verge of swallowing a bug that had landed in her drink.

Tonight was different from the night he'd come over to fix her faucet, but she hadn't anticipated how awkward it might feel when she'd asked him out at Tizzy's yesterday. After all, Mike was not only a potential part of her future, he was a fixture in her past as well. And, of course, Jim's.

She'd thought about Jim more than once as they were eating and found herself comparing the two. What surprised her was that Mike, even while making this harder than it should be, was holding up fairly well. Mike would never be like Jim, but there was something about the way she felt when she was with him that reminded her of the good times in her marriage. And she felt sure, as she had with Jim, that not only did Mike love her now, but there would never come a day when he wouldn't. There was only a brief moment during dinner when the feeling of betrayal forced its way to the forefront of her thoughts, leaving her with the impression that Jim was somehow watching over them, but it passed as quickly as it came. And for the first time, in its wake, she was left with a warm sensation, one that reassured her that Jim wouldn't be upset at all.

By the time they finished their dinner, the moon had risen, leaving a fan of white over the darkened water.

"Would you like to take a walk?" Mike suggested.

"That sounds great," she said, putting her glass on the table.

Mike stood. Julie straightened her dress, then adjusted the strap that had fallen over her shoulder. Moving to the railing, Mike squeezed past her, and through the smell of salt and brine came the odor of his cologne, reminding her how much had suddenly changed. Mike leaned over, looking for Singer, his face passing through a shadow, but when he turned his head, the moonlight seemed to catch and hold the rough texture of his skin, giving him the appearance of someone she barely knew. His fingers, perched on wrought iron, were stained with grease, and she realized once again how different he was from the man who'd once walked her down the aisle.

No, she thought, I'm not in love with Mike.

Julie felt herself begin to smile. Not yet, anyway.

"You got kind of quiet there toward the end of dinner," Mike said.They were walking along the water's edge; they had taken off their shoes, and Mike had rolled up his pants legs to midshin. Singer wandered ahead of them, his nose to the ground, in search of crabs.

"Just thinking," Julie murmured.

Mike nodded. "About Jim?"

She glanced at him. "How did you know?"

"I've seen that expression lots of times. You'd make a terrible poker player." He tapped the side of his head. "Nothing gets by me, you know."

"Yeah? So what was I thinking, exactly?"

"You were thinking . . . that you were glad you married him."

"Oh, now that's going out on a limb."

"Was I right, though?"

"No."

"So what were you thinking about?"

"It's not important. Besides, you don't want to know."

"Why? Is it bad?"

"No."

"Then tell me."

"All right. I was thinking about his fingers."

"His fingers?"

"Yeah. You have grease on your fingers. I was thinking that in all the time I was married to Jim, I never saw his fingers look like yours."

Mike self-consciously moved his hands behind his back.

"Oh, I didn't mean it in a bad way," she said. "I know you're a mechanic. Your hands should be dirty."

"They're not dirty. I wash 'em all the time. They're just stained."

"Don't be so defensive. You know what I mean. Besides, I kind of like it."

"You do?"

"I guess I kind of have to. They come with the package."

Mike's chest puffed out as they walked in silence for a few steps. "So, do you think you'd like to go out tomorrow night? Maybe we could head into Beaufort."

"That sounds like fun."

"We might have to leave Singer this time," he added.

"That's okay. He's a big boy. He can handle it."

"Is there any place in particular you like to go?"

"It's your turn to pick. I've done my duty."

"And you did it well." Mike sneaked a look at her, reaching for her hand. "What a great idea to go to the beach. It's beautiful tonight."

Julie smiled as his fingers interlocked with hers. "Yes, it is," she agreed.

They left the beach a few minutes later when Julie started getting chilled. Mike was reluctant to let go of her hand, even when they reached his truck, but he didn't have a choice. He considered taking it again once he was in the car, but she'd put both hands in her lap and was staring out the side window.Neither of them said much on the way home, and when he walked her to the door, he realized that he had no idea what she was thinking. He knew exactly what he was thinking, however-he hoped she would hesitate on the porch, right before they said their good-byes, giving him the chance to make sure his pucker was just right. Didn't want to blow this, either.

"I had a great time tonight," he said.

"Me too. What time should I be ready tomorrow?"

"Seven o'clock?"

"Sounds great."

Mike nodded, feeling like a teenager. This was it, he thought, the big moment. It all comes down to this.

"So," he said, playing it cool.

Julie smiled, reading his thoughts. She reached for his hand and squeezed it before letting go.

"Good night, Mike. I'll see you tomorrow?"

It took a second to process the rejection, and he shifted his balance from one foot to the other, then back again. "Tomorrow?" he asked uncertainly.

She opened her purse and began searching for the keys. "Yeah. Our date, remember?"

She found the keys and slipped one into the lock, then looked up at him again. By then, Singer had joined them and she opened the door, letting him inside.

"And thanks again for a nice evening."

She waved before following Singer into the house. When the door closed behind her, Mike simply stared before he realized she wasn't coming back out. A few seconds later, he left the porch, kicking at the gravel as he made his way to the truck.

Knowing she wouldn't be able to fall asleep, Julie began flipping through the pages of a catalog as she sat on the couch, replaying the evening. She was glad she hadn't kissed Mike on the porch, though she wasn't sure why. Maybe she just needed more time to adjust to her newfound feelings toward him.Or maybe she just wanted to see him squirm. When he squirmed, he was cute in a way that only Mike could be. And Henry was right, he was fun to tease.

She picked up the remote and turned on the television. It was still early-not even ten o'clock yet-and she settled on a CBS drama about a small-town sheriff who feels compelled to risk his life to rescue people.

Twenty minutes later, just as the sheriff was about to save a youngster trapped in a burning car, she heard a knock at the door.

Singer rose quickly, bounding through the living room. He poked his head out the curtains, and she assumed that Mike had come back.

Then Singer started growling.

Richard," Julie said."Hey, Julie." He held out a bouquet of roses. "I picked these up at the airport on the way home. Sorry they're not as fresh as they should be, but there wasn't much of a selection."

Julie stood in the doorway, Singer by her side. He'd stopped growling as soon as she'd opened the door, and Richard offered an open palm. He sniffed before looking up, making sure the face matched the familiar scent, then he turned away. Oh, him, he seemed to say. Not thrilled with this, but okay.

It wasn't so easy for Julie. She hesitated before taking the flowers, wishing he hadn't brought them.

"Thank you," she said.

"I'm sorry for coming by so late, but I wanted to say hi before heading back to my place."

"It's okay," she said.

"I called earlier to let you know, but I guess you weren't in."

"Did you leave a message?"

"No. I didn't have time. They were announcing final boarding and my seat wasn't confirmed. You know how it goes. I left you one yesterday, though."

"Yeah"-she nodded-"I got that one."

Richard brought his hands together in front of him. "So, were you in?" he asked. "Earlier, I mean?"

She felt her shoulders give a little. She didn't want to do this now.

"I was out with a friend," she said.

"A friend?"

"You remember Mike? We grabbed a quick dinner."

"Oh, yeah. From the bar that night, right?" he said. "The guy who works in the garage?"

"That's the one."

"Oh," he said. He nodded. "Have fun?"

"I haven't seen a lot of him lately, so it was nice to be able to catch up."

"Good." He glanced off to the side of the porch, then down at his feet, then at her again. "Can I come in? I was hoping we might be able to talk for a few minutes."

"I don't know," she hedged. "It's kind of late. I was just getting ready for bed."

"Oh," he said, "that's fine. I understand. Can I see you tomorrow, then? Maybe we can have dinner."

In the shadows his features seemed darker, but he smiled, as if he knew what her answer was going to be.

Julie blinked, holding her eyes closed for an extra instant. I hate that I have to do this, she thought, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. Bob, at least, probably had the suspicion that the end was coming. Not Richard.

"I'm sorry," she said, "but I can't. I already made plans."

"With Mike again?"

She nodded.

Richard absently scratched the side of his cheek, continuing to hold her gaze. "So that's it, then? For us, I mean?"

Her expression answered for her.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked.

"No," she protested, "it's not that."

"Then . . . what is it? Didn't you have fun when we went out?"

"Yes, I had fun."

"Then what is it?"

Julie hesitated. "It's not about you at all, really. It's about Mike and me. We just seem . . . Well, I don't know how to explain it. What can I say?"

As she struggled for words, his jaw began to tighten and she could see the muscle flexing in his cheek. For a long moment, he said nothing.

"Must have been an exciting few days while I was gone, huh?" he said.

"Look, I'm sorry. . . ."

"For what? For going behind my back as soon as I left? For using me to make Mike jealous?"

It took a moment for his words to register. "What are you talking about?"

"You heard me."

"I didn't use you. . . ."

Richard ignored her, his tone becoming angrier. "No? Then why are you ending this when we're still getting to know each other? And how did Mike suddenly get so interesting? I mean, I leave town for a few days, and the next thing I know, it's over between us and Mike has taken my place." He stared at her, his lips beginning to turn white at the edges. "It sure as hell sounds to me like you planned this all along."

His outburst was so startling, so unexpected, that the words came out before she could stop them. "You're a jerk."

Richard continued to look at her for a long moment before finally glancing away. His anger suddenly gave way to an expression of hurt.

"This isn't fair," he said softly. "Please, I just want to talk for a minute, okay?" he pleaded.

When Julie looked at him, she was amazed to see tears forming in his eyes. The man was an absolute roller coaster of emotions, she decided. Up, down, all around. "Look, I'm sorry, Richard. I shouldn't have said what I did. And I didn't mean for you to get hurt. Really." She paused, making sure he was listening. "But it's late and we're both tired. I think I better head in before either of us says anything else. Okay?"

When Richard didn't respond, she took a step backward and began to close the door. Richard suddenly thrust his hand out, stopping her.

"Julie! Wait!" he said. "I'm sorry. Please . . . I really need to talk to you."

In the future, when she remembered this moment, she would always recall with shock how quickly Singer moved. Before she had time to process the fact that Richard had taken hold of the door, Singer had launched himself toward the hand, as if trying to catch a Frisbee in flight. Singer's jaw found its target, and Richard howled in pain as he tumbled over the threshold.