One Lavender Ribbon (25 page)

Sammie sat quietly, letting Adrienne vent her frustration.

Adrienne placed a hand to her heart. “How much trouble
I’m
causing.” She shook her head, eyes sad. “That’s what he said to me when I told him I wanted a divorce. Not ‘I love you. I made a mistake. I’m sorry, you’re the one I want . . . ’ No ‘Can’t you see how much trouble you’re causing?’ ”

“I’m sorry, honey,” Sammie said. “From what you’ve told me, that doesn’t really sound like Will.”

Adrienne met her gaze. “I think it’s a little too early to tell.”

“So how are you going to find out?”

“Time, I guess.”

Sammie smiled. “He’s worth the investment?”

“I’m counting on it.”

Sammie reached over and squeezed her hand. “I think maybe he is. And by the way, when do I get to meet Mr. Hopefully Wonderful?”

Adrienne grinned. “I’m working on that.”

Was he Mr. Hopefully Wonderful? Adrienne wasn’t sure yet. But she had hopes.

Hope. One more thing William’s letters had taught her was about never ever giving up hope. So when Sammie left, Adrienne scrounged through the copied letters and found her new favorite.

January 1945

Dear Gracie,

Sometimes I fear I will forget your beautiful face or the sound of your voice. It seems so long since I’ve held you in my arms, so long since I’ve heard the sound of your words. At night, I close my eyes tight. I remember and relive every moment we’ve shared. Though my mind fails me, I have hope. It is the one force that I can depend on, the thing that doesn’t let me down.

How many ways can we count hope? It is every breath we breathe and every beat of our hearts. Hope is the flower that refuses to die off though winter’s chill lays claim. Hope is the rushing river, moving the earth and watering the banks. It is more than strength; it fills any vessel and it strengthens any fight. I won’t fall to despair, Grace. Hope keeps my feet moving. And though doubt tries to fill my mind, hope has taken me captive. I am its slave. And because I am, my soul is under obligation—hope blooms in me. I hope it is still blooming in you.

I love you,

William

Will drove to Sammie’s coffee shop, with the Florida wind surging through his car windows and rustling his hair. Until Adrienne, he’d always used the air conditioning in the car to stay cool, but after watching her soaking up the coast’s salty breeze, he had a new appreciation for it. The scent of orange groves drifted from the distance, and he knew the wind must be blowing in just the right direction to carry the citrus smell. It made his mouth water. Watching Adrienne sashay into the coffee shop while he parked his car made his mouth water more.

She introduced him to Sammie, and after a few minutes of friendly conversation, Sammie shooed them to a table nestled in the corner, where he could get her alone.

“What about a luau?” Adrienne suggested, flipping through a party magazine.

Will took a bite of turkey on wheat and considered the idea. “Yeah, Pops would love that. How do we do it?”

“Uh,” Adrienne’s eyes darted around the room. “We’ll need decorations, music, food. Oh, I went to a luau once and they used an old canoe as a buffet.”

He stared at her. “Wait, did you say a canoe as a buffet?”

A yellow pencil twirled around her finger. “You know. Fill the bottom with ice and set the trays of food on top. It looked really good.” Her eyes rolled. “If we can get a canoe.”

“I’ve got a kayak that’s no longer water worthy, would that work?”

Her palm rested against her cheek. “Maybe, I’d have to look at it.”

“It’s in my garage. Can you drop by later?” He liked this. The easy flow of conversation and planning and the fact that he could ask her to drop by later.

“Sure, but won’t Pops think it’s a little weird that we’re hanging out in the garage?”

He shrugged. “Nah, I’ll think of something to tell him. Besides, he’s been a little preoccupied.” This was all good. He decided to not worry about her skittishness. It seemed to be fading anyway. None of that at the zoo. Not even an inkling.

They both grinned. Will realized how nice it was having someone in his world, someone like her.

“He and Sara are on and off the phone all evening. After I got home last night, he called her twice.”

“It’s really so sweet, watching them.” Adrienne toyed with her lunch. She’d ordered a chicken salad sandwich but barely ate it. No wonder she stayed so tiny. The woman didn’t eat. Except cookie-dough ice cream. She’d devoured that like a gladiator.

Adrienne nibbled the croissant.

“And then she called him once.” His face scanned Adrienne’s. “It’s so good to see him happy. I was starting to worry about him.”

“What do you mean?” She took a sip of the vanilla Coke Sammie made for her.

“I don’t know, but it seemed like he was spending more and more time looking at those stupid photo albums and books from the war. I’m just glad he can finally close that chapter of his life.”

Adrienne tapped the edge of the table, eyes covered by caterpillar lashes. “It’s not a crime to want to remember your past.”

“Who
would
want to remember? It’s depressing and it’s gone. What good can come of bringing it up?” Of all the people in the world, she should understand. Hadn’t she just experienced years of pain in a bad marriage?
Does she sit around and dwell on it all the time? Maybe that’s why she still seems sad.
“People need to learn to let go,” he said aloud.

The nostrils on her dainty nose flared. Anger. This was anger. He’d never seen it on her before. “Those things shape who we are now. Good things and bad.”

She was even more gorgeous mad, with the gold flecks in her eyes turning to molten lava and stirring.

She leaned forward. “Are you even listening to me?”

Not really. He wasn’t interested in traveling down this path, so instead of answering, he ate a potato chip.

“You’re
not
listening to me.” She tilted her head and ran her slender hand through all that mink-dark hair. “What we learn from our mistakes makes us better people.”

“That’s probably easy to say for someone who lives in the past more than the present.”
Uh-oh
. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

The flick of her brows confirmed that his words stung. She pushed her food away. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “You spent a week reading my grandfather’s letters instead of working on your house. You apparently let everything around you go so you could stroll through someone else’s history.” He could see the fire, knew he’d said the wrong thing, but man, could this woman get his engine cranking.

“First of all, I didn’t just quit
living
so I could sit and
read
for a week straight.” She threw her hands up. “You really run hot and cold, you know that? And even if I had, so what? I can appreciate what Pops and those other men went through. That war shaped our world.”

Will swallowed.

She shook her head and leaned forward, capturing him. “Do you even know anything about your grandfather’s war experience?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but she forged on, anger fueling each word. “Do you know he was part of one of the most highly decorated units in the
entire
war? Did you know he spent weeks freezing in the woods at Bastogne? Did you know his company was involved in
every major battle
in Europe?” With the last sentence, she used her index finger to tap the table for emphasis. For a moment, she looked at him like she’d never really seen him before. “Do you even know your grandfather?” Or maybe like she’d seen him all along.

That was a stupid question and one she had no business asking. His anger flared to match hers. “Do
you
think
you
know him just because you read some letters?” He’d lived with Pops for nearly five years. Of course he knew him. He knew what kind of cereal he ate. What sports shows he liked to watch. He’d practically grown up at Pops’s house, spending every summer there. Pops had attended every one of Will’s baseball games. Junior high, high school, he was always there, on the top row, on his feet cheering Will on. When Will was small, every night at bedtime Pops had told him amazing stories about . . .

Blood drained from Will’s face. He had to look away as a sickening feeling roiled through his gut.
Pops had told him amazing stories about soldiers in a land far away.
Will searched his memory, mouth going dry. And Will loved them, loved every word,
hung on
every word. When had those stories ended? Did Will get too old to appreciate them? He tried desperately to remember even one detail but failed. Only faint shadows remained where there was once vivid life. It was like trying to capture sand in a screen that was being pounded by a steady rain.

For an instant, Will was reminded of the stack of books Pops had tripped on in his room. Will had moved them downstairs to the library. He remembered the deep sadness that had appeared across Pops’s face. But Pops had quickly blinked it away and joked about how much easier it would be to read them in the comfortable library. Will hadn’t paid attention to the titles. Frankly, he hadn’t cared about the old stack of books. History books.
World War II
books. Now he realized what they were. It was a history Pops himself helped write.

He shoved the sandwich away while Adrienne sat quietly as if her little outburst had shocked her as much as it shook him. Some kids stepped into the coffee shop, laughing and joking about seeing a shark at the beach, but he didn’t care. For five years he’d done everything in his power to make a good home for his grandfather.

Will drew a ragged breath and slumped against the chair. Though caring for Pops physically, he’d left Pops’s emotional well-being to starve. His eyes met hers slowly. She was right. He didn’t even know his grandfather.

Sure, he knew his favorite cereal, how he liked his eggs, what tennis shoes he preferred to buy, what kinds of birds he watched out his window. He knew that Pops wasn’t an easy man to stop, and if he wanted to take the boat out alone—even on dewy, hazy mornings—he did it. But he knew little to nothing about the man Pops had once been.

Will rubbed a hand over his face. “It caused him so much pain, I just thought he wanted to forget it.” His words slipped out quietly. Almost as an afterthought he added, “That’s what I would want.”

Adrienne exhaled. “Even though the past may be painful, it’s okay to remember it. That’s how we heal.”

Will wiped his mouth, tossed the napkin on his plate, and slid back his chair. “Adrienne, would you mind if we pick this up another day. I’m . . . I gotta go. I’m sorry.”

He started to step past her, but she caught his hand, her grasp firm. “Will,” she whispered, “It’s never too late to learn about someone we love.”

She’d read him like a book.

He swallowed. “I owe him that much, don’t I?”

She shook her head, sending shimmery lips into a fit of sparkles. “Don’t do it for him. Do it for yourself. You’re missing out.”

For an instant he wanted to pull her up into his arms. But one hug, one kiss, one press of his body to hers would only light a fire he couldn’t tend to right now. Instead, he rubbed his thumb over her clasped hand and lifted it to his lips. In the short time they’d known each other, she’d given him so much. Yes, sometimes her antics were risky. Some of the things she’d done could have backfired and had devastating consequences. But right now all he could feel was appreciation for her taking risks most people never would.

But a small, quiet voice in the back of his head warned that her lucky streak could eventually end.

I
t was after dinner when Will asked Pops if he had any war medals.

Pops nearly dropped the dish he was carrying to the sink. He turned to give Will his complete attention, watching the younger man a full minute before he spoke. “Yes.” It was a lonely word, filled with caution.