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Hearts Divided Page 2
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The fact that he’d phoned and cried on her roommate’s shoulder was a good example of what she found adolescent about his behavior. She was absolutely certain Paul would never do that. If he had a problem, he’d take it directly to the source.
“I think you’re being foolish,” Lynn said, and added, “Not that you asked my opinion.”
“No, I didn’t,” Ruth reminded her, eyeing the mailbox again. There was an ornamental latticework design along the bottom, and looking through it, she could tell that the day’s mail had been delivered. The envelope inside was white, and her spirits sank. There just had to be something from Paul. If not a real letter, then an e-mail.
“He asked me to talk to you,” Lynn was saying.
“Who did?” Ruth asked distractedly. She was dying to open the mailbox, but she wanted to do it in privacy.
“Clay,” Lynn cried, sounding completely exasperated. “Who else are we talking about?”
Suddenly Ruth understood. She looked away from the mailbox and focused her attention on Lynn. “You’re attracted to him, aren’t you?”
Lynn gasped indignantly. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Sit down,” Ruth said, gesturing toward the front steps where they’d often sat before. It was a lovely spring afternoon, the first week of April, and she needed to clear the air with her roommate before this got further out of hand.
“What?” Lynn said with a defensive edge. “You’ve got the wrong idea here. I was just trying to help a friend.”
“Sit,” Ruth ordered.
“I have class in twenty minutes and I—” Lynn paused, frowning at her watch.
“Sit down.”
The eighteen-year-old capitulated with ill grace. “All right, but I already know what you’re going to say.” She folded her arms and stared straight ahead.
“I’m fine with it,” Ruth said softly. “Go out with him if you want. Like I said earlier, I’m not interested in Clay.”
“You would be if it wasn’t for soldier boy.”
Ruth considered that and in all honesty felt she could say, “Not so.”
“I don’t understand you,” Lynn lamented a second time. “You marched in the rally against the war in Iraq. Afghanistan isn’t all that different, and now you’re involved with Paul what’s-his-face and it’s like I don’t even know you anymore.”
“Paul doesn’t have anything to do with this.”
“Yes, he does,” Lynn insisted.
“I’m not going to have this conversation with you. We agree on some points and disagree on others. That’s fine. We live in a free society and we don’t have to have the same opinion on these issues or anything else.”
Lynn sighed and said nothing.
“I have the feeling none of this is really about Paul,” Ruth said with deliberate patience. She hadn’t known Lynn long; they lived separate lives and so far they’d never had a problem. As far as roommates went, Ruth felt she was fortunate to have found someone as amicable as Lynn. She didn’t want this difference of opinion about Clay—and Paul—to ruin that.
The other girl once again looked pointedly at her watch, as if to suggest Ruth say what she intended to say and be done with it.
“I don’t want to see Clay.” She couldn’t make it any more explicit than that.
“You might have told him that.”
“I tried.”
Lynn glared at her. “You should’ve tried harder.”
Ruth laughed, but not because she was amused. For whatever reason, Clay had set his sights on her and wasn’t about to be dissuaded. Complicating matters, Lynn was obviously interested in him and feeling guilty and unsure of how to respond to her attraction.
“Listen,” Ruth said. “I didn’t mean to hurt Clay. He’s a great guy and—”
“You shouldn’t have lied to him.”
Ruth raised her eyebrows. “When did I lie to him?”
“Last week you said you were going to visit your grandmother in Cedar Cove and that was why you couldn’t go out with him this weekend. I overheard you,” she added.
Oh, that. “It was a white lie,” Ruth confessed. She definitely planned to visit her grandmother, though. Helen Shelton lived across Puget Sound in a small community on the Kitsap Peninsula. Ruth had spent Thanksgiving with her grandmother and visited for a weekend before Christmas and then again close to Valentine’s Day. Her last visit had been early in March. She always enjoyed her time with Helen, but somehow the weeks had slipped away and here it was April already.
“A lie is a lie,” Lynn said adamantly.
“Okay, you’re right,” Ruth agreed. “I should’ve been honest with Clay.” Delaying had been a mistake, as she was now learning.
That seemed to satisfy her roommate, who started to get to her feet. Ruth placed her hand on Lynn’s forearm, stopping her. “I want to know why you’re so upset about this situation with Clay.”
“I already told you…. I just don’t think this is how people should treat each other.”
“I don’t like the way Clay’s put you in the middle. This is between him and me. He had no right to drag you into it.”
“Yes, but—”
“You’re defending him?”
Lynn shrugged. “I guess.”
“Don’t. Clay’s a big boy. If he has something to say, then he can come to me all on his own. When and if he does, I’m going to tell him again that I’m no longer interested in dating him. I’m—”
“Stuck on some gun-wielding—”
A look from Ruth cut her off.
“Okay, whatever,” Lynn muttered.
“What I want you to do is comfort him,” Ruth said, patting Lynn’s forearm.
“I could, I suppose.”
“Good,” Ruth said, hoping to encourage her. “He might need someone to talk to, and since you’re sensitive to his feelings, you’d be an excellent choice.”
“You think so?”
Ruth nodded and then Lynn stood up. She went inside to get her books and left with a cheerful goodbye as if they’d never had an argument. With her roommate gone, Ruth leaped off the step and across the porch to the mailbox. Lifting the top, she reached inside, holding her breath as she pulled out the electric bill in its white envelope, a sales flyer—and a hand-addressed air mail letter from Sergeant Paul Gordon.
Two
April 6
My Dear Ruth,
We’ve been out on a recon mission for the last four days and there wasn’t any way I could let you know. They seemed like the longest four days of this tour, and not for the reasons you might think. Those days meant I couldn’t write you or receive your letters. I’ve been in the marines for eight years now and I’ve never felt like this about mail before. Never felt this strongly about a woman I’ve yet to meet, either. Once we were back in camp, I sat down with your letters and read through each one. As I explained before, there are times we can’t get on-line and this happened to be one of those times. I realize you’ve probably been wondering why I wasn’t in touch. I hope you weren’t too concerned. I would’ve written if I could.
I have good news. I’m coming home on leave….
Ruth read Paul’s letter twice. Yes, he’d definitely said he was headed home, to Seattle, for two weeks before flying to Camp Pendleton in California for additional training. He was looking forward to spending most of his leave with her. His one request was that Ruth make as much time for him as her studies would allow and, if possible, keep her weekends free.
If Ruth thought her heart had been beating hard a few minutes earlier, it didn’t compare to the way it pounded now. She could barely breathe. Never had she looked forward to meeting anyone more.
Sitting on the edge of her bed in her tiny room, Ruth picked up the small framed photograph she kept on her nightstand. Paul’s image was the first thing she saw when she woke and the last before she turned off her light. In four months, he’d become an important part of her life. Now, with his return to Seattle, their feelings for each other woul
d stand the real test. Writing letters and e-mail messages was very different from carrying on a face-to-face conversation. At the same time, Ruth was afraid. She feared their differing views on the war in Iraq would come between them. She feared, too, that if he was being sent for additional training, he might soon be stationed there.
At the end of his letter, Paul suggested they meet at 6:00 p.m. on Saturday, April 17, at Ivar’s restaurant on the Seattle waterfront. She didn’t care what else was on her schedule; any conflicting arrangement would immediately be canceled.
Rather than begin her homework, Ruth sat down and wrote Paul back, her fingers flying over the computer keys as she composed her response. Yes, she would meet him. Nothing would keep her away. While she was nervous at the prospect of meeting Paul, she was excited, too.
Her letter was coming out of the printer when the phone rang. Absently Ruth grabbed the receiver, holding it against her shoulder as she opened the desk drawer and searched for an envelope.
“Hello?”
“Ruth, it’s your grandmother.”
“Grandma,” Ruth said, genuinely pleased to hear from Helen. “I’ve been meaning to call you and I haven’t. I’m sorry.”
Her grandmother chuckled. “I didn’t call to make you feel guilty. I’m inviting you to lunch.”
“When?”
“In a couple of weeks—on Sunday the seventeenth if that works for you. I figured I’d give you plenty of time to fit me into your schedule. I thought we’d sit out on the patio, weather permitting, and enjoy the view of the cove.”
Her grandmother’s duplex was on a hill overlooking the water with the lighthouse in the distance. Her grandparents had lived in Cedar Cove for as long as Ruth could remember. Because she’d been born and raised in Oregon, Ruth had visited the small Washington town often through the years. “I’ve wanted to get over to see you.”
“I know, I know, but unless we both plan ahead, it won’t happen. In no time you’ll have your master’s degree and then you’ll move on and we’ll both regret the missed opportunities. I don’t want that.”
“I don’t, either.” Her Grandma Shelton was Ruth’s favorite relative. She was well educated, which wasn’t particularly common for a woman her age, and spoke French and German fluently. Her father hadn’t said much about his mother’s life prior to her marriage, and one of the reasons Ruth had chosen to attend the University of Washington was so she could get to know her grandmother better.
“I can put you down for lunch, then?”
“Yes, that would be perfect.” Her gaze fell on Paul’s letter and Ruth realized that the date her grandmother had suggested was the first weekend Paul would be in town. He’d specifically asked her to keep as much of that two-week period free as she could. She wanted to spend time with him and yet she couldn’t refuse her grandmother. “Grandma, I’m looking at my calendar and—”
“Is there a conflict?”
“Not…exactly. I’ve sort of got a date,” she said, assuming she and Paul would be seeing each other. It would be ideal if he could join her. “It isn’t anything official, so I—”
“Then you do have something scheduled.”
“No…” This was getting complicated.
“I wasn’t aware that you were dating anyone special. Who is he?”
The question hung there for a moment before Ruth answered. “His name is Paul Gordon and we aren’t really dating.” She would’ve explained, except that her grandmother broke in again.
“Your parents didn’t say anything about this.” The words were spoken as if there must be something untoward about Paul that Ruth didn’t want to divulge.
“No, Mom and Dad wouldn’t,” Ruth muttered, not adding that she hadn’t actually mentioned Paul to her parents. She’d decided it wasn’t necessary to enlighten them about this correspondence yet. Explaining her feelings about Paul to her family would be difficult when everyone knew her stand on the war. More importantly, she wasn’t sure how she felt about him and wouldn’t be until they’d met.
So far, they were only pen pals, but this was the man she dreamed about every night, the man who dominated her thoughts each and every day.
“Grandma, I haven’t said anything to Mom and Dad because I haven’t officially met Paul yet.”
“Is this…” Her grandmother hesitated. “Is this one of those…those Internet relationships?” She spit out the word as though meeting a man via the Internet was either illegal or unseemly—and probably both.
“No, Grandma, it’s nothing like that.”
“Then why don’t your parents know about him?”
“Well, because…because he’s a soldier in Afghanistan.” There—it was out.
Her announcement was met with silence. “There’s something wrong with that?” Helen eventually asked.
“No…”
“You say it like you’re ashamed.”
“I’m not ashamed,” Ruth insisted. “I like Paul a great deal and I’m proud of his service to our country.” She downplayed her political beliefs as she expanded on her feelings. “I enjoy his letters and like him more than I probably should, but I don’t like the fact that he’s a soldier.”
“You sound confused.”
Ruth sighed. That was certainly an accurate description of how she felt.
“So this Paul will be in Seattle on leave?”
“Yes. For two weeks.”
“He’s coming here to meet you?”
“His family also lives in the area.”
“Invite him along for lunch,” her grandmother said. “I want to meet him, too.”
“You do?” Ruth’s enthusiasm swelled. “That’s great. I wanted to, but I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about having him join us.”
“I meant what I said. I want to meet him.”
“We’ve only been writing for a few months. I don’t know him well, and…” She let the rest fade.
“It’ll be fine, Ruth,” her grandmother assured her. Helen always seemed to know what Ruth was feeling and thinking. She’d found ways to encourage the special bond between them.
“Grandpa was a soldier when you first met him, wasn’t he?” Ruth remembered her father telling her this years ago, although he’d also said his mother didn’t like to talk about those years. Ruth assumed that was because of Grandpa Sam’s bad memories of the war, the awful things he’d seen and experienced in Europe. She knew her grandparents had met during the Second World War, fallen in love and married soon afterward. Ruth’s father had been born in the baby boom years that followed World War II, and her uncle Jake had arrived two years later. Ruth was Helen’s only granddaughter, but she had three grandsons.
“Oh, yes.” She sighed wistfully. “My Sam was so handsome, especially in his uniform.” Her voice softened perceptibly.
“How long did you know him before you were married?”
Her grandmother laughed. “Less than a year. In wartime everything’s very intense. People married quickly because you never knew if you’d still be alive tomorrow. It was as if those of us who were young had to cram as much life into as short a time as possible.”
“The war was terrible, wasn’t it?”
Her grandmother hesitated before whispering, “All war is terrible.”
“I agree,” Ruth said promptly.
“So you and this soldier you’ve never met are discussing marriage?”
“No!” Ruth nearly choked getting out her denial. “Paul and me? No, of course not. I promise you the subject has never even come up.” They hadn’t written about kissing or touching or exchanged the conventional romantic endearments. That didn’t mean she hadn’t dreamed about what it would be like to be held by Paul Gordon. To kiss him and be caressed by him. She’d let her imagination roam free….
“So you say,” her grandmother said with amusement in her voice. “By all means, bring your friend. I’ll look forward to meeting him.”
That was no doubt true, Ruth thought, but no one looked forward to meeting Paul
Gordon more than she did.
Three
“How do I look?” Ruth asked her roommate. She hated to sound so insecure, but this was perhaps the most important meeting of her life and Ruth was determined to make a perfect impression.
“Fabulous,” Lynn muttered, her face hidden behind the latest issue of People magazine.
“I might believe you if you actually looked at me,” Ruth said, holding on to her patience with limited success. The relationship with her roommate had gone steadily downhill since the confrontation on the porch steps two weeks earlier. Apparently Clay wasn’t interested in dating Lynn. What Ruth did know was that Clay hadn’t contacted her since, and her roommate had been increasingly cold and standoffish. Ruth had tried to talk to her but that hadn’t done any good. She suspected that Lynn wanted to be upset, so Ruth had decided to go about her own business and ignore her roommate’s disgruntled mood. This might not be the best strategy, but it was the only way she could deal with Lynn’s attitude.
Her roommate heaved a sigh; apparently lifting her head a couple of inches required immense effort. Her eyes were devoid of emotion as she gave Ruth a token appraisal. “You look all right, I guess.”
That was high praise coming from Lynn. Ruth had spent an hour doing her hair, with the help of a curling iron and two brushes. And now it was raining like crazy. This wasn’t the drizzle traditionally associated with the Pacific Northwest, either. This was rain. Real rain. Which spelled disaster for her hair, since her umbrella wouldn’t afford much protection.
If her hair had taken a long time, choosing what to wear had demanded equal consideration. She had a lovely teal-and-white summer dress from last year that made her eyes look dark and dreamy, but the rain had altered that plan. Now she was wearing black pants and a white cashmere sweater with a beige overcoat.