The Choice (15 page)

“Sounds like they really love each other.”

“You inferred
that
from what I was saying?”

“That, and the idea that your mom isn’t a fan of the great outdoors.” That elicited a laugh. “They must be very proud of you,” he added.

“What makes you say that?”

“Why wouldn’t they be?”

Why indeed, she wondered. Let me count the ways. “Let’s just say that I’m pretty sure my mom prefers my sisters. And trust me—my sisters are nothing like Stephanie.”

“You mean they always say appropriate things?”

“No. I mean they’re just like my mom.”

“And that means she can’t be proud of you?”

She took a bite of her burger, taking her time before responding. “It’s complicated,” she demurred.

“How so?” he persisted.

“For one thing, I have red hair. My sisters are all blond, like Mom.”

“So?”

“And I’m twenty-six and still single.”

“So?”

“I want a career.”

“So?”

“None of that fits the image of the daughter my mother wants. She has definite ideas about the role of women, especially southern women of proper social standing.”

“I’m getting the sense that you and your mother don’t get along.”

“Ya think?”

Just over his shoulder, Gabby saw Allison and Laird strolling down the path toward the lighthouse, hand in hand.

“Maybe she’s jealous,” he said. “Here you are, making your own life with your own goals and dreams, dreams independent of the world you grew up in, the world she expected you to inhabit—simply because she did. It takes courage to do something different, and maybe what you think is disappointment in you is actually, on some deeper level, disappointment in herself.”

He took a bite of chicken and waited for her reaction. Gabby was flummoxed. It was something she’d never considered.

“That’s not it,” she finally forced out.

“Maybe not. Have you ever asked her?”

“Whether she felt disappointed in herself? I don’t think so. And don’t tell me that you’d confront your parents that way, either. Because . . .”

“I wouldn’t,” he said, shaking his head. “Not a chance. But I have a feeling that both of them are probably extremely proud of you, even if they don’t know how to show it.”

His comment was unexpected and strangely affecting. She leaned toward him slightly. “I don’t know whether you’re right, but thanks anyway. And I don’t want you to get the wrong impression. I mean, we talk on the phone every week and we’re civil. It’s just that I sometimes wish things were different. I’d love to have the kind of relationship where we really enjoyed spending time together.”

Travis said nothing in response, and Gabby found herself relieved that he didn’t try to offer a solution or advice. When she’d related similar feelings to Kevin, his first instinct had been to come up with a game plan to change things. Pulling up her legs, she wrapped her arms around her knees. “Tell me—what’s the best thing about being a vet?”

“The animals,” he said. “And the people. But that’s probably what you expected me to say, right?”

She thought about Eva Bronson. “The animals I can understand. . . .”

He held up his hands. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m sure that some of the people I deal with are a lot like some of the people you have to deal with.”

“You mean pushy? Neurotic? With tendencies toward hypochondria? In other words, crazy?”

“Of course. People are people, and a lot of them consider their pets members of the family. Which, of course, means that if they even suspect anything is wrong with their pet, they demand a full exam—which means they bring them in at least once a week, sometimes more. Almost always it’s nothing, but my dad and I have a system in place to deal with it.”

“What do you do?”

“We put a yellow sticker on the inside flap of the pet’s file. So if Mrs. Worried comes in with Pokie or Whiskers, we see the sticker, do a cursory exam, and tell them that we don’t currently see anything wrong, but we’d like to see the dog or cat in a week just to make sure. Since they were going to bring their pet in anyway, it helps get them in and out of the office quickly. And everyone is happy. We’re the caring veterinarians, and the owners are assured that their pets are okay, but that they’d been right to worry, since we wanted to see them again.”

“I wonder how the doctors in my office would react if I started putting yellow stickers on a few files.”

“That bad?”

“Sometimes. Every time there’s a new issue of
Reader’s Digest
, or some news show that identifies a rare disease with specific symptoms, the waiting room fills up with kids who naturally have exactly those symptoms.”

“I’d probably be the same way with my kid.”

She shook her head. “I doubt that. You strike me more as the walk-it-off or sleep-it-off kind of guy. And as a parent, I don’t think you’ll be any different.”

“Maybe you’re right,” he admitted.

“Oh, I’m right.”

“Because you know me?”

“Hey,” she said, “you and your sister started it.”

For the next half hour, they sat together, talking in a way that felt remarkably familiar. She talked more about her mother and father and their polar personalities; she told him a bit about her sisters and what it was like to grow up with so much pressure to conform. She filled him in on college and PA school and shared some of her memories of the evenings she’d spent in Beaufort before moving to town. She mentioned Kevin only in passing, which surprised her until she realized that even though he was a major part of her life now, that hadn’t always been the case. Somehow, talking to Travis reminded her that she’d become the woman she was going to be long before meeting Kevin.

As the conversation wound down, she found herself confessing to her occasional frustration at work, the words sometimes spilling out in a way she didn’t quite intend. Though she didn’t mention Dr. Melton, she did relate stories about some of the parents she’d met in her practice. She didn’t give any names, but occasionally Travis would smile in a way that suggested he knew exactly whom she was talking about.

By then, Megan and Liz had packed most of the food back inside the coolers. Laird and Allison had gone for a walk. Matt, on the other hand, had half his body buried in sand by the toddlers, who didn’t quite possess the coordination to prevent their shovels from raining sand into his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears.

Just then, a Frisbee landed near Gabby’s feet, and she saw Joe approaching.

“I think it’s time we rescued Matt,” he called out. He pointed toward the Frisbee. “You up for it?”

“Are you saying they need some entertainment?”

Joe grinned. “I don’t think we have a choice.”

Travis looked at her. “Do you mind?”

“No, go ahead.”

“I have to warn you—it’s not going to be pretty.” He stood up and shouted in the toddlers’ direction, “Hey, kids? Are you guys ready to see the World Champion Frisbee expert in action?”

“Yay!!!” came the chorus. They dropped their shovels and dashed toward the water.

“Gotta go,” Travis said. “My audience awaits.”

As he jogged down to the waterline and sloshed in, Gabby found herself following his movements and feeling something oddly like affection.

Spending time with Travis wasn’t at all the way she’d imagined it would be. There was no pretension, few attempts to impress, and he seemed to have an intuitive feel for when to stay silent or when to respond. It was that feeling of engagement, she realized, that led her to embark on a relationship with Kevin in the first place. It wasn’t only the physical excitement she felt on the nights they spent together; more than that, she craved the comfort she experienced during those quiet moments they spent talking or when he gently took her hand as they walked through a parking lot on the way to dinner. Those were the moments in which it was easy to think he was the one she was meant to spend her life with, moments that lately had been fewer and farther between.

Gabby reflected on this as she watched Travis dive for the Frisbee. He bungled the catch, allowing the Frisbee to hit him in the chest, and landed in the surf with a dramatic cascade of water. The toddlers squealed with delight, as if it were the funniest thing they’d ever seen. When they shouted, “Do it again, Uncle Travis!” he jumped to his feet with equal flamboyance. He took three long, slow-motion strides and sent the Frisbee flying back to Joe. Putting on his game face, he assumed the exaggerated crouch of a baseball player, readying for the next catch in the infield. With a wink toward the kids, he promised, “The next time, I won’t even get wet!” and followed his comment with a splashing, seizurelike miss that elicited even more squeals of delight. He seemed genuinely to enjoy performing for the kids, which only increased her feelings of warmth toward him. She was still trying to make sense of her reaction to Travis when he finally emerged from the ocean and started toward her, shaking the water from his hair. A moment later, he plopped down on the sand beside her, and when they accidentally touched, Gabby had the briefest flash of them sitting together just like this on a hundred different weekends in the future.

Eleven

T
he rest of the afternoon seemed to replay the events of the morning in reverse. They spent another hour at the beach before reloading the boat; on their way back, each couple rode once more in the parasail, though on her second trip Gabby rode with Stephanie. By late afternoon, the boat was cruising through the inlet, and Travis stopped to buy some shrimp from a local fisherman he obviously knew well. By the time they finally docked back at the house, all three toddlers were sound asleep. The adults were windblown and content, their faces darkened by the hours in the sun.

Once the boat was unloaded, the couples departed one by one, until only Gabby, Stephanie, and Travis remained. Travis was on the dock with Moby; he’d already spread the parachute on the dock so it could dry and was currently rinsing off the boat with a garden hose.

Stephanie stretched her arms overhead. “I guess I should be on my way, too. Dinner with the folks tonight. They get hurt feelings if I come down here and don’t spend enough time with them. You know how it goes. Let me say good-bye to Travis.”

Gabby nodded, watching lethargically as Stephanie leaned over the deck railing.

“Hey, Trav!” Stephanie shouted. “I’m outta here. Thanks for today!”

“Glad you could come,” he shouted with a wave.

“You might want to toss something on the grill. Gabby just said she’s starving!”

Gabby’s lethargy vanished immediately, but before she could say anything, she saw Travis give a thumbs-up.

“I’ll be up in a minute to start the grill!” he shouted. “Just let me finish up here.”

Stephanie sauntered by Gabby, obviously pleased with her social engineering.

“Why’d you say that?” Gabby hissed.

“Because I’m going to be with my parents. I don’t want my poor brother to have to spend the rest of the evening alone. He likes to have people around.”

“Well, what if I wanted to go home?”

“Then tell him when he gets up here that you’ve changed your mind. He won’t care. All I did was buy you a couple of minutes to think about it, since I guarantee that he would have asked you anyway, and then—if you’d said no—would have asked a second time.” She slung her bag over her shoulder. “Hey, it was great getting to know you. I’m glad we had the chance to meet. Do you ever get up to the Raleigh area?”

“Sometimes,” Gabby said, still thrown by what had just happened and unsure whether to be pleased or angry with Stephanie.

“Good. We can do lunch. I’d say we could do brunch tomorrow, but I really have to get back.” She removed her sunglasses and wiped them with her shirt. “See you again?”

“Sure,” Gabby said.

Stephanie went to the patio door, slid it open, then vanished inside, cutting through the house on the way to the door. By that point, Travis was already strolling up the dock, Moby trotting happily by his side. For the first time today, he’d put on a short-sleeved shirt, though he left it unbuttoned.

“Just give me a second to get the coals going. Shrimp kabobs okay?”

She debated only an instant before realizing that it was either this or head home to a microwave dinner and some awful show on television, and she couldn’t help but remember the feeling she’d had when watching Travis frolic in the surf with the toddlers.

“Just give me a few minutes to change?”

While Travis got the coals going, Gabby checked on Molly, finding her sleeping soundly along with the puppies.

She took a quick shower before changing into a light cotton skirt and blouse. After drying her hair, she debated whether to put on makeup, then decided on just a bit of mascara. The sun had given her face some color, and when she stepped back from the mirror, it occurred to her that it had been years since she’d last had dinner with a man other than Kevin.

A case could be made that it was simply a continuation of the day, or that she’d been tricked into dinner by Stephanie, but she knew that neither was completely true.

Still, was her decision to have dinner with Travis something she should feel guilty about, perhaps even conceal from Kevin? Her first impulse was to insist that she’d have no reason
not
to tell Kevin. The day had been harmless—technically, she’d spent more time with Stephanie than she had with Travis. So what was the big deal?

You’re dining alone tonight, of course,
a little voice whispered.

But was that really a problem? Stephanie had been right: She was hungry again, and her neighbor had food. Human Necessity 101. It wasn’t as though she were going to sleep with him. She had no intention of even kissing him. They were friends, that’s all. And if Kevin were here, she was sure that Travis would have invited him along, too.

But he’s not here,
the voice insisted.
Will you tell Kevin about your little dinner for two?

“Definitely. I’ll definitely tell him,” she muttered, trying to quiet the little voice. There were times when she absolutely hated the little voice. The little voice sounded like her mother.