Wind whipped around the bow of the ship. Ahead lay Liberty Island and its most famous female regaled in patina green. The sea air held the rumble of boats and the smell of diesel. Sunlight glinted off the rippling water like floating gems. Gail pulled out the scarf she’d thoughtfully stuffed into her purse and tied it over her hair.
Though cordial, Alan had remained distinctly quiet during the brief ride from the Wolfe estate to the city. Had he really only offered out of her sister’s bullying? Gail hadn’t missed the exchange yesterday between Marcia and Alan as she went up the stairs to check on her niece. When would she learn to not let her sister goad her into rash decisions? Maybe she should have turned Alan down.
Or better yet, face the question head-on: “Alan, why did you offer to show me around the city?”
He studied her a moment then laughed. “Now that’s a question I hadn’t expected.”
Gail smiled, looked back to the water. “My sister isn’t the only outspoken one in our family. I just implement more tact than she does. I do hope I didn’t offend you though.”
“No, I like directness.” His jaw tightened then relaxed. “All right, I’ll be direct, too. At first I’d hoped to get to know the pretty redhead with smoky eyes better. A lot better. But then your sister mentioned you had a fiancé.”
“Oh, she did, eh?” She snapped her attention back to him.
Alan nodded, but his brown eyes remained steady and focused on her. Almost seemed to challenge her to deny the truth.
“I tried to tell you yesterday before Marcia interrupted. Then when I came back downstairs, you were gone. I guess I could have asked Patrick how to contact you and called….” She’d actually thought about doing that very thing but didn’t like telling him over the phone, where she wouldn’t be able to gauge his reaction.
“But…”
She turned to face him and added some spunk to her tone. “But I could use a friend this summer. My sister isn’t exactly friendly material.”
“Yes, I noticed. She’s one extreme to another.”
Gail waited a moment to speak, fighting off the familiar embarrassment over her sister. She’d long bypassed offense when others spoke of her sister’s behavior, though that alone saddened her. “I guess you’ve been around her enough.”
“Enough.”
She wanted to ask what he held back. Her sister seemed to have driven off many of Patrick’s friends. Would Alan be next?
An awkward silence fizzed around them.
“I can be a friend.”
His blurted words startled her. He held his head partly turned toward her, brow raised with a funny grin lifting one side of his mouth. Now he was just humoring her.
“Is that a willing offer or a duty to be filled, Mr. James?”
“Oh, definitely a willing offer, Miss Gibson. One I dearly hope you’ll accept.”
“Then, I do, Mr. James… Alan. Most gratefully.”
“Good, then that’s one question settled. Now it’s my turn.” She leaned against the railing. “Shoot away.”
“This won’t be easy, mind you. I’m not in the habit of asking easy questions.”
“I think I’m up to the task.”
“Are you sure, because I wouldn’t want to wear you out before we even get to see Lady Liberty.”
“I promise to give it my best effort.” She giggled.
“Okay, here goes. Now be honest.”
She nodded.
“Do you like hot dogs?”
The mix of relish with mustard, ketchup, and onions sent his mouth on a happy journey. And judging by Gail’s sigh as she chewed, she’d joined the ride. Their explorations up and then back down the Statue of Liberty had liberated both their appetites.
He wiped his mouth. “I told you it would be worth the wait. Casey’s dogs are the best.”
Gail swept a drip of ketchup from her hot dog bun and popped it into her mouth. “Okay, you win. Definitely better than anything we have in Rhode Island.”
“That’s because we’re in the city. Central Park vendors make fast food an art.” He bit into his hot dog again.
“You have some mustard on your mustache.” She reached out with her napkin and wiped the corner of his mouth.
Though her eyes were focused on her task, Alan still had a clear view of the dark brown band surrounding the hazel color of her eyes. The green shirt she wore brought out more of the green flecks. A waft of her rosy perfume filled his nose. He wanted to touch her hair and see if it felt as silky as it looked. He’d never been more thankful to have a messy hot dog in his hands.
Not good, not good. He shifted on the park bench to disguise his attempt to put distance between them. “Thanks.”
She blinked and drew her hand back. “Happy to help.” Gail took a bite of her hot dog.
“You like to help a lot, don’t you?”
Still chewing, she nodded then swallowed. “Am I that obvious?”
“Just shows through. It’s nice.”
Her smile hit full beam, bringing a delightful tilt to her eyes. Those eyes…
“Really?”
“Yeah, hasn’t anyone ever told you that before?”
She sighed. “You would think that with all the money many of our friends and acquaintances have, that they’d be more interested in helping those less fortunate.”
“But they’re not.” He stated his words as fact but lifted his brow in question.
“No, not really.”
He couldn’t let the wistful expression on her face pass. “What is it you want to do, Gail?”
She shot a quick glance at him, as if waking from a dream. Her passion was evident as she leaned toward him and spoke with her hands. “I want to teach English in underprivileged areas. Literature has so much to teach and show us about perseverance and serves as a powerful witness to what we, as human beings, can overcome and accomplish in our lives.” The pretty girl who was quick to laugh at his jokes had transformed into an animated teacher.
“And even more so with faith.” He said the words before he even thought them.
“Faith? I guess so, but that’s not what these kids need to overcome their difficult circumstances.”
“I disagree. It’s what they need most.” He knew firsthand. Knew what had brought him and his sister, Tara, through those first dark days after losing their parents.
“Why does it have to come back to religion?”
“I’m not talking about religion here. I’m talking about leaning on a belief in God with the understanding that He loves us and cares what happens to us. That’s what faith is to me anyway.”
At Gail’s silence, he realized he’d spoken with the same fervency she had.
He glanced down at what remained of his hot dog, the angry swirl of red and yellow on the wreckage of his bun. “Seven years ago, my parents were killed in a plane crash. I was eighteen. My parents had left me in charge of my sister. Tara was only eleven at the time. Faith is what got us through it all. And each other.”
She reached out and squeezed his wrist, her eyes wide and vulnerable. “I’m so sorry, Alan. I had no idea.”
He covered her hand with his own. “We’re okay now. At first it was hard to accept. I kept thinking there had to be some mistake and that they’d extended their trip to celebrate their anniversary.” He laughed softly. “Tara was the one who finally made me embrace the truth with her prayers.”
“I can’t even imagine. Who took care of you?”
“I did. We don’t have any family. Thankfully I was old enough to take care of Tara, and I landed a job at Mr. Wolfe’s firm.”
“Is that how you’ve managed to avoid being drafted?”
“No, I was. Just got a deferment because of Tara. She’s eighteen now, and I’ve finished my business degree. I ship out at the end of the summer.”
“Oh.” Gail leaned back against the bench, crumpling the remainder of her hot dog into the wrapper.
Why did she suddenly seem upset? “Was it something I said?”
She gave a nervous laugh then smiled—but not the easy one that crinkled the bridge of her nose. “No, not at all. It’s just that Marcia didn’t mention that… that you were going to… Vietnam.”
Alan took a deep breath, prepared to hear the barrage against the United States’ involvement there. “I didn’t think it would be an issue for you.”
By her expression, Alan guessed she was either offended or angry. Either way, he suspected their time together had come to an end.
A vivid picture of Marcia’s husband flashed into her mind. She’d seen the changes in Patrick, heard his screams just the other night—all the way down the hall—though she’d told her sister she hadn’t. The idea of Alan going through that pained her… though she barely knew him.
She didn’t have a clue why Alan rose so abruptly and now stood by the garbage can, head down. He hadn’t even finished his own hot dog. Had talking about his parents’ deaths and then the war hit too close to home? And what did he mean by “be an issue for her”?
Gail gave him a moment then ambled to where he stood. “Alan, are you okay?”
He lifted his chin. “Sure. We should probably get going. I’d imagine you probably have more important things to do.”
What in the world had gotten into him? She threw her leftover lunch and soda bottle into the receptacle with a loud thud. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, and I’m not sure I want to know.” She spun away and headed back toward the direction they’d come.
Alan’s steps rushed behind her. “You clearly have an issue with the war, despite the fact that good men are there trying to help. I thought for sure you would understand that.”
She couldn’t hold back her gasp. “I said no such thing!”
“It’s what you didn’t say, Gail.”
“Didn’t say?” She stopped and faced him. “How would you like me to say that I hope the war doesn’t change you like it has Patrick? Surely you’ve seen how he’s changed. How he hurts. I wish I could do more to help him, but I can’t.”
She stormed off again. No way would she let him see her cry. She’d find her own way home if she had to.
“Gail, wait!”
A sudden tug on her elbow brought her to a halt and turned her toward him. She kept her head down. “Just take me home, please.”
He lifted her chin. “I’m sorry. I misunderstood. I thought you were opposed to the war.”
She reached up and batted away a stray tear. “No, I just hate the idea of you being in such danger. I know how much it affected Marcia… not knowing if Patrick was okay or even coming home.”
Why was she so upset? And why did she feel so drawn to Alan? Had to be that he’d opened up to her and shared his story. Marcia always did accuse her of having too big a heart for those who had suffered loss.
“That I completely understand. The not knowing if someone you love will come home.”
She wanted to melt into his arms. The way he looked at her with total understanding based so clearly in his own loss. The man had a heart to match hers.
No, she couldn’t let herself think like that. Feel like that. She had Troy, and he wasn’t going to war or someplace dangerous. And he wanted to marry her. She had a secure future with him.
Alan tilted his head, giving her that goofy grin of his. “Forgive me?”
She nodded.
“Still friends, Miss Gibson?”
His words made her laugh. “Yes, Mr. James. Still friends.”