Point Hope (11 page)

“You don’t have to be polite, Angel. I need to know. I’m not talking about other people and other kids. I’m talking about mine. I’m so torn. I don’t know what I’m doing, or what Trey and I are doing by pretending things are the same.” She stopped and took a deep, long breath. Angel put an arm around her.

“Do you know what you want?” Angel asked. Rosette raised an eyebrow while Angel continued, “Are you miserable in your marriage and wanting out? Or, maybe the better question is, do you feel you’re unhealthy staying in your marriage?”

“I don’t know that I’m miserable.” Rosette took stock of her life. “Things have been so-so. It’s not like he beats me, drinks too much, or even puts me down. I’ve just been having these thoughts…”

“About?”

The teapot started to whistle. She yanked it up to stop the noise. “About being single. What would it be like to flirt with someone again? To have someone who wants to take me out and romance me?” She poured the water as she spoke. Angel took a minute answering. There wasn’t a need to rush, really; sometimes they preferred to let a few minutes go by without words.

“I think like that at times too. But that doesn’t mean I’d ever actually want to leave Mitch.”

Rosette wondered if even happy wives fantasized about some stranger romancing them. She glanced at Angel and realized she couldn’t imagine her best friend with a different man. Mitch was a hard-core outdoorsman who hunted every open season, up in the coastal mountains or over in Eastern Oregon. He hunted with a rifle and sometimes a bow, and even brought a mountain bike along so he could reach the most remote places. Angle and Rosette often called him
Crocodile Dundee
or
The Crocodile Hunter
after Steve Irwin. Mitch didn’t have the Australian accent, but he did have the boisterous, entertaining personality and attracted others with his crazy stories. He and Angel were a perfect fit together—and happy. They
were
happy, weren’t they? They had just one kid, a daughter, and said that’s all they wanted. Rosette had always assumed Angel had everything she needed.

Rosette guessed people who knew her probably thought the same. It’d been “Trey and Rosette” for twelve years now, counting from when they were dating.

“I didn’t think about it before,” Angel said, “But Trey’s been different since he was wounded. It wasn’t such a big change that I worried about him, but now that I think back, it makes me wonder if that caused the distance in your marriage.”

They were doctoring their tea, adding organic rock sugar. They had a routine. Each added sugar to her cup, stirred, and added more sugar. You had to get the exact right flavor, because it was so sweetly perfect when you did.

“Different how?” Rosette asked, even though she knew. It was something she couldn’t do anything about, couldn’t change. She led the way into the living room, and they sat on the big couch, looking out the window at the ocean blanketed with incoming fog flitting through the tree tops.

“He used to laugh and joke a lot. Like Mitch. He was confident, too. I remember all of us listening to his stories and how he’d joke around with Mitch. They had that running bet going about shooting hoops. Remember?”

“Yeah.” But she didn’t like to. It hurt to think about happy times with Trey, back when he’d wanted her all the time. He would come through the door and pull her into a hug, chew on her neck like a wild mountain man, or sometimes he’d take her hand and twirl her
. How was your day, Mrs. Sinclair?
She finished the story for Angel: “When he finally came home, after he was wounded, he became quiet and preoccupied. I remember you and I actually talked about it. We thought he was healing emotionally, and that he’d come back to us.”

Rosette was still waiting in some ways. In other ways she’d given up.

They switched to less serious topics and sipped their way through the pot of tea, but that previous conversation kept playing in the back of Rosette’s mind. Another cry came over the baby monitor, and this time Hope woke up. They went upstairs together to get her.

“What a pretty little princess!” Angel pulled her up into her arms.

Rosette watched her and asked, “Do you ever wish you had more kids?”

“After watching you? No. Oh, gosh, sorry! I didn’t mean anything, but no, I don’t think I could handle more than one.”

Rosette could hardly remember what it was like to have just one. She stood lost in thought until she noticed Angel watching her.

“You know,” Angel said, “Maybe we should try to get the guys together some time.”

Maybe that’s what their marriage needed. They just needed to get “their” life back instead of running two separate lives.

She thought about it even after Angel left as she walked with Hope and cooed at her. Somehow the opportunity hadn’t come up to tell Angel about the girl who walked by so often. Actually, she didn’t want to tell anyone—just in case Trey had something to do with that girl.

She heard the car pull into the garage and then the kids’ happy voices. The door into the house burst open a minute later.

“Mom! We saw a seal on the beach! And we went to Cranberry Sweets!”

A twinge of jealousy zinged her. She hadn’t stopped by Cranberry Sweets for chocolates in a while.

Candice plopped down next to Hope and started telling her about the beach. Jake pulled a seashell out of his pocket and held it out for inspection. That meant there was sand in those pockets as well, but that was typical.

Trey came in behind the kids and handed her a big white bag. “They had grab bags again. I checked—it has all of your favorites.”

She accepted the bag, too emotional to say thank you. It’d been a while since he’d brought her an impromptu gift…but maybe it was entirely the kids’ idea. They had probably asked to bring her back something. The bag had her favorite cranberry jelly candies, plain and covered in chocolate; the lemon meringue jellies she adored; and the raspberry cream chocolates. The store had jelly candy galore and everything a chocolate lover could want, and they always had free samples all over the store.

Trey sat down next to her as the kids rushed out of the room. Candice said something about adding their new seashells to the picture. The “picture” was a big board where they glued all their beach finds. It was messy, and Rosette wasn’t sure what they would ever do with it, but the kids worked on it together. That was reason enough to allow it.

“It’s almost Alex’s birthday,” she said. “His sixteenth birthday. I thought we should do something special.” Originally, they’d talked about taking a trip or doing something big over spring break, but that idea had been lost in the recent tragedies. She could see Trey remembered too. He leaned back, let out a breath, and stared out the window. His profile caught her off guard. Rather, her reaction surprised her. Trey had always been startling movie-star good looking, and it took her breath away at the oddest times. Like now. She wanted him, and it burned a hole deep down into her.

“He deserves a special birthday.” Trey smiled as he spoke, although it was edged with sadness as he gazed out the window, seeming to gaze out over time. “Sixteen, wow. How did that happen? He’ll want to get his license.”

Nervous excitement flooded her. Their “son” was growing up. Even if he wasn’t their son by birth, she had been just like his mother for most of his life.

Trey looked over at Hope nestled in Rosette’s arms. “I remember Alex like that,” he said, “then Candice and Jake.”

“And now our little blond Hope.” She didn’t think about the words until she’d spoken them.
Our?
Trey glanced at her. It felt nice that they had all but stopped fighting. Sadly that was due to two deaths. She looked back at him, into his familiar crystal-blue eyes, thinking of all the years shared between them.

The door to the garage opened. “I’m home!”

“Hey, Alex,” Trey called. “We want to talk about your birthday.”

Alex walked into the room in a windbreaker with his Under Armour showing at his collar—his typical biking attire. His hair was flat from wearing his helmet.

Alex slid his bag off his shoulder and looked at both of them. “I wanted to talk to you guys too. About a date night.”

“What?” They spoke in unison.

“I made dinner reservations for you two at Portside.” His hopeful expression made him look ten years old again. “I’ll watch the kids. And I can call if I need help with Hope.”

She glanced at Trey. Portside was less than ten minutes away—even though it was almost out in the boonies, the tiny town of Charleston had several outstanding restaurants.

Alex saw the look. “I’ve been taking turns feeding Hope. I even change diapers. And you guys know I’m good with babies.”

Alex probably thought they had to decide if he was capable enough. In reality, Rosette had to decide if she and Trey could make it through a dinner out alone.

“That was really thoughtful,” Trey said, making her think he was about to knock the idea down. “We’d love to go out.”

Rosette nodded in slow motion.

“I promise I’ll call if anything even starts to happen here, with Hope I mean. But I’ll do a great job taking care of her.” He looked over at the clock. “You might want to get ready. I had to take a six o’clock because it was busy after that.”

Thirty minutes later, Rosette waited for Trey so they could leave. She’d dressed first to give herself time to talk with Alex about what to fix the kids for dinner and what Hope would need for the evening. Trey had been in the garage when she came down, but she knew he was now dressing upstairs. She wondered if he was a little nervous too. It was silly, but she almost liked the feeling, like they had things to be excited about.

Trey came down the stairs in a navy blue dress shirt that made his eyes pop. She had always marveled at how his eyes stood out in a crowd or from a distance. They were so clear and deep, a light blue streaked with darker flecks. You could only see that up close. Five feet away and his eyes were amazingly blue, like a deep pool.

He’d sprayed on the cologne she had given him for Christmas just a few months earlier. It’d been an unusual choice, she recalled. They were at each other’s throats, and she had no idea what to get him. She’d noticed he was out of his favorite cologne, and on a whim, she bought him a bottle. It wasn’t something you’d normally get someone you’d been fighting with, but she couldn’t think of anything else. A tie? A wallet? Part of her loved him, no matter what. Part of her always would.

He took in her dress as if he
really
liked it. It was long-sleeved for the cool night, but form-fitting, and the smooth fabric was the deep burgundy color she liked so well. It wasn’t overtly sexy, though. Just pretty and, she thought, romantic. There were tiny flowers embroidered along the vee neckline.

Alex grinned at them as he waved them out the door. They got into the car and backed out of the garage without speaking. It felt as awkward as a first date, and she had no idea what they’d talk about.

She remembered how they used to schedule a weekly date night, but she hadn’t been this nervous on those date nights. The idea had actually come from Trey’s counselor, who’d recommended a regular night out—just the two of them—when Trey was recovering both physically and mentally from being injured. He shouldn’t have been hurt at all, actually. He was a medic. He didn’t go out to fight. But she knew his work was tough—to see people so devastatingly hurt from gunshots and bombs. Then, his own foundation was shattered when he was hit. When Trey finally came home, he pulled back from her and their life together. They went to counseling through the Veteran’s Hospital and tried all kinds of things to help him cope. She had never asked, but she’d wondered if part of his burden was ongoing worry about Ricky, knowing how easily he could get hurt. Ricky was a soldier, out there fighting and surrounded by danger.

Trey pulled into the parking lot, and they walked inside Portside’s front door in silence. Soon they were seated by the windows in the sunroom, facing each other over the small table.

“Your favorite spot,” Trey commented. The glass walls looked out over the bay. A single tiger lily was poised in a vase, and a chunky candle burned in the middle of the table, softly lighting the intimate space and throwing a flickering reflection on its surrounding glass cylinder. There was just enough daylight left to see outside, through their reflections. The sun was setting in the wispy fog and billowing clouds, shading the sky pink and orange.

They both picked up their menus instead of talking.

“Oh! They still have the Sherried Scallops.” She set her menu down, decided. Trey laid his menu flat but continued looking at it
. What if the entire night was this quiet?

“I wonder what this is about,” Rosette mused with a nervous laugh. “It’s not like Alex needs to butter us up for anything.” Trey looked at her but didn’t say anything. His worry line was faintly showing between his brows again. She knew how much had been on his shoulders from planning the funerals, dealing with grief, and adding a newborn to the family.

Their waitress approached. “Are you ready to order?”

Trey gave her a polite smile and surprised Rosette by ordering something new. “And my wife wants the Sherried Scallops.”

So he
had
been listening. “And a glass of white wine, please,” Rosette added. She glanced at Portside’s list and chose a sweeter white from their selection of Oregon wines. She wanted clam chowder before dinner, until she heard they had seafood chowder tonight. The only thing she liked better than a really good clam chowder was seafood chowder with clams, salmon, and that extra spice they added.

When they were alone again, Trey said, “He needs us to be a family. We’re the only parents he has.”

She looked down at that, question after question flowing into her mind.
Were they just a charade to make the kids feel secure? Could they live like that? Was it the right thing to do?

“Rosette,” he said, and waited for her to look up. “Can we forget our troubles and enjoy tonight? Alex went to all the work of setting this up for us.”