Her Kind of Man: Navy Husband / A Man Apart / Second-Chance Hero

“Not yet.” Busy as she’d been, Ali hadn’t told Adam Kennedy—her husband’s best friend and Jazz’s godfather—that Jazmine would soon be living in Seattle.

“Then we have to tell him!”

“We will, all in due course,” Ali assured her.

“Do it now.” Her daughter leaped off the bed, sprinted into the living room and came back with the portable phone.

“I don’t have his number.” Ali hadn’t been thinking clearly; their phone directory had already been packed away and she simply didn’t have time to search for it.

“I do.” Once more her daughter made a mad dash out of the bedroom, returning a moment later. Breathless, Jazmine handed Ali a tidy slip of paper.

Ali unfolded it curiously and saw a phone number written by an adult hand.

“Uncle Adam sent it to me,” Jazmine explained. “He told me I could call him whenever I needed to talk. He said it didn’t matter what time of day or night I phoned, so call him, Mom. This is important.”

Ali resisted the urge to find out if her daughter had taken advantage of Adam’s offer before now and decided she probably had. For Jazmine, it was as if the sun rose and set on Peter’s friend. Lieutenant Commander Adam Kennedy had been a support to both of them since the accident that had abruptly taken Peter out of their lives.

It sounded so cut and dried to say a computer had malfunctioned aboard Peter’s F/A-18. He hadn’t had a chance to recover before the jet slammed into the ground. He’d died instantly, his life snuffed out in mere seconds. That was two years ago now, two very long years, and every day since, Peter had been with her. Her first thought was always of him and his image was the last one her mind released before she went to sleep at night. He was part of her. She saw him in Jazmine’s smile, in the three little lines that formed between the girl’s eyebrows when she frowned. Peter had done that, too. And their eyes were the exact same shade of brownish green.

As an SMO, or senior medical officer, Ali was familiar with death. What she didn’t know was how to deal with the aftermath of it. She still struggled and, as a result, she understood her sister’s pain. Yes, Shana’s breakup with Brad was different, and of a lesser magnitude, but it was a loss. In ending her relationship with him, Shana was also giving up a dream, one she’d held and cherished for five years. She was adjusting to a new version of her life and her future. Shana had flippantly dismissed any doubts or regrets about the breakup. Those would come later, like a sneak attack—probably when Shana least expected it. They had with Ali.

“Mom,” Jazmine cried, exasperated. “Dial!”

“Oh, sorry,” Ali murmured, punching out the number. An answering machine came on almost immediately.

“He isn’t there?” Jazmine asked, studying her. She didn’t hide her disappointment. It was doom and gloom all over again as she threw herself backward onto the bed, arms spread-eagled.

Ali left a message and asked him to get in touch.

“When do you think he’ll call?” Jazmine demanded impatiently.

“I don’t know, but I’ll make sure we get a chance to see him if it’s possible.”

“Of course it’s possible,” Jazmine argued. “He’ll want to see me. And you, too.”

Ali shrugged. “He might not be back by the time I need to fly out, but you’ll see him, don’t worry.”

Jazmine wouldn’t look at her. Instead she stared morosely at the ceiling, as if she didn’t have a friend in the world. The kid had moved any number of times and had always been a good sport about it, until now. Ali didn’t blame her for being upset, but there wasn’t anything she could do to change her orders.

“You’ll love living with your aunt Shana,” Alison said, trying a new tactic. “Did I tell you she has an icecream parlor? How much fun is that?”

Jazmine wasn’t impressed. “I don’t really know her.”

“This will be your opportunity to bond.”

Jazmine sighed. “I don’t want to bond with her.”

“You will eventually,” Ali said with forced brightness. Jazmine wasn’t fooled.

“I’m not glue, you know.”

Alison held back a smile. “We both need to make the best of this, Jazz. I don’t want to leave you any more than you want me to go.”

Her daughter scrambled to a sitting position. As her shoulders slumped, she nodded. “I know.”

“Your aunt Shana loves you.”

“Yippee, skippy.”

Alison tried again. “The ice-cream parlor is directly across the street from the park.”

“Yippee.”

“Jazmine!”

“I know, I know.”

Ali wrapped one arm around the girl’s shoulders. “The months will fly by. You’ll see.”

Jazmine shook her head. “No, they won’t,” she said adamantly, “and I have to change schools again. I hate that.”

Changing schools, especially this late in the year, would be difficult. In a few weeks, depending on the Seattle schedule, classes would be dismissed for the summer. Ali kissed the top of Jazmine’s head and closed her eyes. She had the distinct feeling her daughter was right. The next six months wouldn’t fly, they’d crawl. For all three of them…

Shana wanted children, someday, when the time was right. But she’d assumed she’d take on the role of motherhood the way everyone else did. She’d start with an infant and sort of grow into it—ease into being a parent gradually, learning as she went. Instead, she was about to get a crash course. She wondered if there were manuals to help with this kind of situation.

Pacing her living room, she paused long enough to check out the spare bedroom one last time. She’d added some welcoming touches for Jazmine’s benefit and hoped the stuffed teddy bear would appeal to her niece. Girls of any age liked stuffed animals, didn’t they? The bedspread, a fetching shade of pink with big white daisies, was new, as was the matching pink throw rug. She just hoped Jazmine would recognize that she was trying to make this work.

She wanted Jazmine to know she was willing to make an effort if the girl would meet her halfway. Still, Shana didn’t have a good feeling about it.

Her suspicions proved correct. When Ali arrived, it was immediately apparent that Jazmine wanted nothing to do with her aunt Shana. The nine-year-old was dressed in faded green fatigues and a camouflage armygreen T-shirt. She sat on the sofa with a sullen look that discouraged conversation. Her long dark hair fell across her face. When she wasn’t glaring at Shana, she stared at the carpet as if inspecting it for loose fibers.

“I can’t tell you how good it is to see you,” Ali told Shana, turning to her daughter, obviously expecting Jazmine to echo the sentiment. The girl didn’t.

Shana moved into the kitchen, hoping for a private word with her sister. They hadn’t always been close. All through high school, they’d competed with each other. Ali had been the more academic of the two, while Shana had excelled in sports. From their father, a family physician, they’d both inherited a love of science and medicine. He’d died suddenly of a heart attack when Shana was twenty.

Within months, their lives were turned upside down. Their mother fell to pieces but by that time, Ali was in the Navy. Luckily, Shana was able to stay close to home and look after their mom, handle the legal paperwork and deal with the insurance, retirement funds and other responsibilities. Shana had attended college classes parttime and kept the household going. At twenty-two, she was hired by one of the up-and-coming pharmaceutical companies as a sales rep. The job suited her. Having spent a good part of her life around medical professionals, she was comfortable in that atmosphere. She was friendly and personable, well-liked by clients and colleagues. Within a few years, she’d risen to top sales representative in her division. The company had been sorry to see her go and had offered an impressive bonus to persuade her to stay. But Shana was ready for a change, in more ways than one.

The last time the sisters had been together was at Peter’s funeral. Shortly afterward, Ali had returned to Italy. Although she could have taken an assignment back in the States, Ali chose to finish her tour in Europe. As much as possible, she’d told Shana, she wanted Jazmine to remain in a familiar environment. A few months ago, she’d been transferred to San Diego, but no one had expected her to be stationed aboard the Woodrow Wilson, the newest and largest of the Navy’s aircraft carriers. According to her sister, this was a once-in-a-career assignment. Maybe, but in Shana’s opinion, the Navy had a lousy sense of timing.

“Jazmine doesn’t seem happy about being here,” Shana commented when they were out of earshot. She understood how the girl felt. The poor kid had enough turmoil in her life without having her mother disappear for six months.

“She’ll be fine.” Ali cast an anxious glance toward the living room as Shana took three sodas from the refrigerator.

“Sure she will,” Shana agreed, “but will I?”

Ali bit her lower lip and looked guilty. “There isn’t anyone else.”

“I know. These next six months will give Jazmine and me a chance to know each other,” Shana announced, stepping into the living room and offering Jazmine a soda. “Isn’t that right?”

The girl stared at the can as if it held nerve gas. “I don’t want to live with you.”

Well, surprise, surprise. Shana would never have guessed that.

“Jazmine!”

“No,” Shana said, stopping her sister from chastising the girl. “We should be honest with one another.” She put down Jazmine’s drink and sat on the opposite end of the sofa, dangling her own pop can in both hands. “This is going to be an experience for me, too. I haven’t been around kids your age all that much.”

“I can tell.” Jazmine frowned at the open door to her bedroom. “I hate pink.”

Shana had been afraid of that. “We can take it back and exchange it for something you like.”

“Where’d you get it? Barbies R Us?”

Shana laughed; the kid was witty. “Close, but we can check out the Army surplus store if you prefer.”

This comment warranted a half smile from Jazmine.

“We’ll manage,” Shana said with what she hoped sounded like confidence. “I realize I’ve got a lot to learn.”

“No kidding.”

“Jazmine,” Ali snapped in frustration, “the least you can do is try. Give your aunt credit for making an effort. You can do the same.”

“I am trying,” the girl snapped in return. “A pink bedroom and a teddy bear? Oh, puleeeze! She’s treating me like I’m in kindergarten instead of fourth grade.”

Shana had barely started this new venture and already she’d failed miserably. “We can exchange the bear, too,” she suggested. “Army surplus again?”

Her second attempt at being accommodating was less appreciated than the first. This time Jazmine didn’t even crack a smile.

Ali sat in the space between Shana and Jazmine and threw her arms over their shoulders. “If I’ve learned anything in the last few years, it’s that women have to stick together. I can’t be with you, Jazz. That’s all there is to it. I’m sorry, I wish things were different, but they aren’t. If you want, at the end of this deployment, I’ll resign my commission.”

Jazmine’s head rose abruptly. “You’d leave the Navy?”

Ali nodded. This was as much a surprise to Shana as it was to her niece. From all indications, Ali loved military life and had fit into it with comfort and ease.

“Now that your dad’s gone, my life isn’t the same anymore,” Ali continued. “I’m your mother and you’re far more important to me than any career, Navy or not. I won’t leave you again, Jazmine, and that’s a promise.”

At those words the girl burst into tears. Embarrassed, she hid her face in both hands, her shoulders shaking as Ali hugged her.

Ali seemed to be trying not to weep, but Shana had no such compunction. Tears slipped down her cheeks.

It would be so good to have her sister back again. If she had any say in the matter, Ali would move to Seattle so the two of them could be closer.

“If you get out of the Navy, does that mean you’ll marry Uncle Adam?” Jazmine asked with the excitement of a kid who’s just learned she’s about to receive the best gift of her life.

“Who’s Uncle Adam?” Did this mean her sister had managed to find two husbands while Shana had yet to find one? Ah, the old competitive urge was back in full swing.

“He was one of my dad’s best friends,” Jazmine supplied with more enthusiasm than she’d shown since she’d arrived. “He’s cute and funny and I think Mom should marry him.”

Raising one brow, Shana turned to her sister for an explanation. Ali had never mentioned anyone namedAdam.

“Uncle Adam is stationed in Everett. That’s close to here, right?” Jazmine demanded, looking to Shana for the answer.

“It’s a bit of a drive.” She wasn’t entirely sure, never having made the trip north of Seattle herself. “Less than an hour, I’d guess.”

“Uncle Adam will want to visit once he learns I’m here.”

“I’m sure he will,” Ali murmured, pressing her daughter’s head against her shoulder.

“You like this guy?” Shana asked her. Ali was decidedly closemouthed about him, which implied that she had some feelings for this friend of Peter’s.

“Of course Mom likes him,” Jazmine said when her mother didn’t respond. “So do I. He’s totally fabulous.”

Ali met Shana’s gaze and shrugged.

“Another pilot?” Shana murmured.

She shook her head. “He’s a Supply Officer. You’ll like him,” her sister was quick to say, as if this man might interest her romantically. No way. Shana had sworn off men and she was serious about that.

“He said I can talk to him anytime I want,” Jazmine went on. “I can phone him, can’t I?”

“Of course you can.” Shana was more curious than ever about this man her sister didn’t want to discuss.

Shana turned to gaze at Ali, silently pleading for more information. Her sister ignored her, which was infuriating. Clearly, Adam had already won over her niece; he must be the kind of guy who shopped at the army surplus store.

Chapter Three

First thing Monday morning, Shana drove Jazmine to Lewis and Clark Elementary School to enroll her. Shana had to admit her stomach was in knots. The school yard was jammed with kids, and a string of vehicles queued in front, taking turns dropping off students. Big yellow school buses belched out diesel fumes as they lumbered toward the parking lot behind the building.

Shana was fortunate to find an empty parking space. She accompanied Jazmine into the building, although the girl walked ahead of her—just far enough to suggest the two of them weren’t together.

The noise level inside the school reminded her of a rock concert and Shana felt the beginnings of a headache. Or maybe it was caused by all those students gathered in one place, staring at Jazmine and her.

The school bell rang and like magic, the halls emptied. Within seconds everyone disappeared behind various doors and silence descended. Ah, the power of a bell. It was as if she were Moses, and the Red Sea had parted so she could find her way to the Promised Land, or in this case, The Office.

Wordlessly Shana and Jazmine followed the signs to the principal’s domain. Jazmine was outwardly calm. She gave no sign of being ill at ease. Unlike Shana, who was on the verge of chewing off every fingernail she owned.

“This is no big deal,” Jazmine assured her, shifting the backpack she carried. It was the size one might take on a trek through the Himalayas. “I’ve done this plenty of times.”

“I don’t feel good just leaving you here.” They’d had all of one day together and while it was uncomfortable for them both, it hadn’t been nearly as bad as Shana had feared. It hadn’t been good, either.

When they took Ali to the airport, Shana had been the one in tears. Mother and daughter had hugged for an extra-long moment and then Ali was gone. It was Shana who did all the talking on the drive home. As soon as they were back at the rental house, Jazmine disappeared inside her bedroom and didn’t open the door for hours.

Dinner had been a series of attempts on Shana’s part to start a conversation, but her questions were met with either a grunt or a one-word reply. Shana got the message. After the first ten minutes, she said nothing. And nothing was what Jazmine seemed to appreciate most. They maintained an awkward silence and at the end of the meal, Jazmine delivered her plate to the kitchen, rinsed it off, stuck it in the dishwasher and returned to her room. The door closed and Shana hadn’t seen her again until this morning. Apparently kids this age treasured their privacy. Point taken. Lesson learned.

“This must be it,” Shana said, pointing at the door marked Office.

Jazmine murmured something unintelligible, shrugging off the backpack and letting the straps slip down her arms. Shana couldn’t imagine what she had in that monstrosity, but apparently it was as valuable to the child as Shana’s purse was to her.

“I was thinking you might want to wait a bit, you know,” Shana suggested, stammering, unable to identify her misgivings. “Not do this right away, I mean.” The students she saw in the hallway didn’t look particularly friendly. Jazmine was only nine, for heaven’s sake, and her mother was headed out to sea for half a year. Maybe she should homeschool her. Shana considered that option for all of half a second. First, it wouldn’t be home school; it would be ice-cream parlor school. The authorities would love that. And second, Shana was completely unqualified to teach her anything.

“I’ll be all right,” Jazmine said just loudly enough for Shana to hear.

Maybe so, but Shana wasn’t completely convinced she would be. This guardianship thing was even harder than it sounded. The thought of leaving her niece here actually made her feel ill.

Jazmine’s eyes narrowed accusingly. “I’m not a kid, you know.”

So nine-year-olds weren’t kids anymore? Could’ve fooled Shana, but rather than argue, she let the comment slide.

Enrolling Jazmine turned out to be surprisingly easy. After Shana completed a couple of forms and handed over a copy of her guardianship papers, it was done. Jazmine was led out of the office and into a classroom. Shana watched her go, forcing herself not to follow like a much-loved golden retriever.

“It’s your first time as a guardian?” the school secretary asked.

Shana nodded. “Jazmine’s been through a lot.” She resisted the urge to mention Peter’s death and the fact that Ali was out at sea. Instinctively she realized that the less anyone knew about these things, the better for Jazmine.

“She’ll fit right in,” the secretary assured her.

“I hope so.” But Shana wasn’t sure that was true. There were only a few weeks left of the school year. Just when Jazmine had managed to adjust, it would be time for summer break. And what would Shana do with her then? It was a question she couldn’t answer. Not yet, anyway.

With reluctance she walked back to her parked car and drove to Olsen’s Ice Cream and Pizza Parlor. She’d thought about changing the name, but the restaurant had been called this for the last thirty years. A new name might actually be a disadvantage, so she’d decided to keep everything the same for now.

Shana’s day went smoothly after her visit to the school. She was on her own now, her training with the Olsens finished. They insisted the secret to their pizza was the tomato sauce, made from their special recipe. That recipe had been kept secret for over thirty years. Only when the final papers had been signed was Shana allowed to have the recipe, which to her untrained eye looked fairly unspectacular. She was almost sure her mother used to make something similar for spaghetti and had gotten the recipe out of a “Dear Abby” column years ago.

There was a huge mixing machine and, following the Olsens’ example, she went into the shop each morning to mix up a batch of dough and let it rise. Once the dough had risen, it was put in the refrigerator, awaiting the day’s pizza orders. The restaurant opened at eleven and did a brisk lunch trade. How much or how little dough to make was complete guesswork. Shana’s biggest fear was that she’d run short. As a consequence she usually mixed too much. But she was learning.

At three o’clock, Shana found herself watching for the school bus. Jazmine was to be dropped off in front of the ice-cream parlor. From noon on, she’d constantly checked the time, wondering and worrying about her niece. The elementary students she’d seen looked like a rough crowd—okay, maybe not the first—and secondgraders, but the ones in the fifth and sixth grades, who were giants compared to Jazmine. Shana just hoped the girl could hold her own.

Business was constant—people waiting to catch ferries, high-school students, retired folk, tourists. Shana planned to hire a part-time employee soon. Another idea she hadwas to introduce soup to the menu. She’d already experimented with a number of mixes, both liquid and dry, and hadn’t found anything that impressed her. Shana was leaning toward making her own from scratch but her experience in cooking large batches was limited.

A bus rolled into view and Shana instantly went on alert. Sure enough, Jazmine stepped off, wearing a frown, and marched inside. Without a word to Shana, she slid into a booth.

“Well,” Shana said, unable to disguise her anxiety, “how was it?”

Jazmine shrugged.

“Oh.” Her niece wasn’t exactly forthcoming with details. Thinking fast, Shana asked the questions her mother had bombarded her with every day after school. “What did you learn? Anything interesting?”

Jazmine shook her head.

“Did you make any new friends?”

Jazmine scowled up at her. “No.”

That was said emphatically enough for Shana to surmise that things hadn’t gone well. “I see.” Glancing over her shoulder, Shana sighed. “Are you hungry? I could make you a pizza.”

“No, thanks.”

The bell above the door rang and a customer entered, moving directly to the ice-cream case. Shana slipped behind the counter and waited patiently until the woman had made her selection. As she scooped chocolate chip-mint ice cream into a waffle cone, she realized something was different about Jazmine. Not until her customer left did she figure out what it was.

“Jazz,” she said, startled, “where’s your backpack?”

Her niece didn’t answer.

“Did you forget it at school? We could run by to pick it up if you want.” Not until the parlor closed at six, but she didn’t mention that. During the summer it wouldn’t be until eight o’clock; she didn’t mention that, either.

Jazmine scowled even more ferociously.

Shana hadn’t known how much fury a nine-year-old girl’s eyes could convey. Her niece’s anger seemed to be focused solely on Shana. The unfairness of it struck her, but any attempt at conversation was instantly blocked.

It was obvious that someone had taken the backpack from Jazmine. No wonder the girl wasn’t in a happy frame of mind.

Feeling wretched and helpless, Shana slid into the booth across from her niece. She didn’t say anything for several minutes, then gently squeezed Jazmine’s hand. “I am so sorry.”

Jazmine shrugged as if it was no big thing, but it was and Shana felt at a loss. Without her niece’s knowing, she’d speak to the principal in the morning and see what could be done. She guessed it’d happened on the bus or off school grounds.

“Can I use your phone?” Jazmine asked.

“Of course.”

Jazmine’s eyes fleetingly met hers as she pulled a piece of paper from her hip pocket. “It’s long distance.”

“You’re not calling Paris, are you?”

The question evoked an almost-smile. “No.”

“Sure, go ahead.” Shana gestured toward the phone on the back wall in the kitchen.

Jazmine thanked her with a faint smile. This counted as profuse appreciation and Shana was nearly overwhelmed by gratitude. Despite their shaky beginning she was starting to reach this kid.