up at the ceiling and listening to Lexie’s even breathing beside her. She lay awake, thinking of John’s angry reaction, and her confusion grew.
She thought of his wives, but mostly she thought of Linda. After so many years, he still couldn’t bring himself to talk about her death. Georgeanne wondered what sort of woman inspired such love in a man like John. And she wondered if there was a woman somewhere who could fill Linda’s place in John’s heart.
The more she thought about it, the more she came to realize that she hoped not. Her feelings weren’t very nice, but they were real. She didn’t want John to find happiness with some skinny woman. She wanted him to regret the day he’d dumped her at Sea-Tac. She wanted him to walk around kicking his own behind for the rest of his life. Not that she’d ever get together with him again, because, of course, she wouldn’t even consider it. She just wanted him to suffer. Then maybe when he’d suffered a long time, she’d forgive him for being an insensitive jerk and breaking her heart.
Maybe.
Chapter Thirteen
Georgeanne had a choice between riding a sand bike, driving bumper cars, or inline skating along the Promenade in Seaside. None of the choices thrilled her-in fact, they all sounded like her idea of hell- but since she had to choose or go along with Lexie’s choice of bumper cars, she picked Rollerblading. She hadn’t chosen it because of her ability. The last time she’d tried it, she’d fallen so hard she’d had to blink back the tears stinging her eyes. She’d sat there while little kids zipped past, lights flashing, and her tailbone throbbing so bad it had taken all her strength not to grab her behind with both hands.
Her experience with Rollerblades was so vivid, she’d almost chosen bumper cars and taken her chances with whiplash, but then she’d seen the Promenade. The Prom was a nice expanse of sidewalk stretching along the beach and was bordered on the ocean side with a stone wall about two to three feet high. The benches built into the stone caught her eye immediately, and she’d made her choice.
Now as the ocean breeze picked up the ends of her ponytail, Georgeanne sighed happily. She stretched one arm along the top of the stone bench and crossed one knee over the other; the Rollerblade on her left foot swayed to and fro like the tide of the ocean several hundred feet in the distance. She thought she probably looked a little strange sitting there in her sleeveless white silk blouse that laced up the front, her white and purple gauzy skirt, and her rented Ultra Wheels. But she figured it was better to look weird than get up and fall on her behind.
She was more than content just to sit right where she was and watch John teach Lexie to Rollerblade. At home, Lexie buzzed the neighborhood on her Barbie roller skates, but learning to balance on a row of rubber wheels took practice, and Georgeanne was relieved that there was someone more athletic than herself to help Lexie. She was also a little surprised to discover that instead of feeling deserted, she felt as if she’d been released from hazardous duty.
At first, Lexie’s ankles had wobbled a little, but John positioned her in front of him, took her arms in his hands, and placed both of his Rollerblades on the outsides of hers. Then he pushed off and the two of them began to move. Georgeanne couldn’t hear what he said to Lexie, but she watched her daughter nod and move her feet at the same time as John.
With the added height of the wheels, John looked huge. The back of Lexie’s head barely reached the waistband of his jean shorts where he’d tucked in his “Bad Dog” T-shirt. Lexie, with her neon pink bicycle shorts and pink kitty shirt, looked very small and very dainty skating between her father’s large feet.
Georgeanne watched them skate away, then she turned her gaze to the tourists who walked the Promenade. A young couple strode past, pushing a two-seated stroller, and Georgeanne wondered, as she often did, what it would be like to have a husband, to have a typical family, and even though she did well on her own, to have a man to share half the worry.
She thought of Charles and felt guilty. She’d told him of her and Lexie’s plans to vacation at Cannon Beach, but she’d left out one important detail. She’d left out John. Charles had even called the night before she’d left to wish her a safe trip. She could have told him then, but she hadn’t. She’d have to tell him sometime. He wouldn’t like it, and she couldn’t blame him.
A flock of seagulls squawked above her, drawing her attention from her problems with Charles to several children tossing bread crusts over the Promenade wall toward the beach. Georgeanne watched the birds and the people for a while before she spotted John and Lexie. John skated backward toward her, and she let her gaze slowly slip up his muscular calves, over the backs of his knees and hard thighs, to the wallet making a bulge in his back pocket. Then he crossed one foot behind the other and was suddenly skating forward, beside Lexie. Georgeanne looked at her daughter and laughed. Lexie’s brows were lowered and her face pinched as she concentrated on what John was telling her. The two of them slowly wheeled past and John glanced at Georgeanne. His brows lowered when he saw her, and Georgeanne was struck by how much he and Lexie resembled each other. She’d always thought Lexie looked more like John than herself, but with both of them scowling, the similarities were striking.
“I thought you were going to practice around here,” he reminded her.
That’s what she’d told him, and he’d believed her. “Oh, I did,” she lied.
“Then come on.” He motioned with his head.
“I need to practice a little more. Y’all go on without me.”
Lexie raised her gaze from her feet. “Look, Mommy, I’m good now.”
“Yes, I see that.” As soon as they wheeled past, Georgeanne resumed her people watching once more. She hoped when John and Lexie returned next time, they would have grown tired of skating and the three of them could retire their Rollerblades and get serious in the gift shops lining Broadway.
But her hopes were dashed when Lexie boldly rolled past as if she’d been born with wheels on her feet.
“Don’t go too far now,” John called after Lexie, and took a seat by Georgeanne on the stone bench. “She’s pretty good for a kid her age,” he said, then he smiled, obviously pleased with himself.
“She has always picked things up quickly. She walked a week before she turned nine months old.”
He looked down at his feet. “I think I did, too.”
“Really? I worried that she’d become bowlegged from walking so early, but there was no way, short of hog- tying, that I could stop her. Besides, Mae said all that bowlegged stuff is an old wives’ tale anyway.”
They were silent for a moment while both of them watched their daughter. She fell onto her behind, picked herself up, and was off again.
“Wow, that’s a first,” she said, surprised that Lexie didn’t skate toward her with big fat tears in her eyes.
“What?”
“She isn’t howling and demanding Band-Aids.”
“She told me she was going to be a big girl today.”
“Hmm.” Georgeanne’s eyes narrowed on her daughter. Perhaps Mae was right. Perhaps Lexie was more drama queen than Georgeanne realized.
John nudged her bare arm with his elbow. “You ready?”
“For what?” she asked, although she had a real bad feeling she knew the answer.
“To skate.”
She uncrossed her legs and turned toward him on the bench. Through the thin fabric of her skirt, her knee brushed his. “John, I’ll be real honest with you. I hate skating.”
“Then why did you pick it?”
“Because of this bench. I thought I could just sit here and watch.”
He stood and held out his hand. “Come on.”
Her gaze traveled from his open palm and up his arm. She looked into his face and shook her head.
He responded by making chicken sounds.
“That’s so juvenile.” Georgeanne rolled her eyes. “You can coat me with secret herbs and spices and serve me in a bucket, but I’m not skating.”
John laughed and creases appeared in the corners of his blue eyes. “Since I promised to be on my best behavior, I won’t comment on how I’d like to see you served.”
