Joey held her face between his hands and must have spotted the gleam of tears in her eyes. “It’ll be all right,” he said, misreading the tears. “I’ll be back before you know it. We’ll live here and take care of your gram for as long as she needs us, I swear it.”
She didn’t know how to answer him. He had such gentle eyes, such a sweet nature. And most important of all, he would never, ever break her heart. He was perfect for her—loyal and affectionate and dedicated.
“Final boarding call,” came the canned voice. “This is your final boarding call for the southbound express.”
“I need to go,” Joey said. He took her left hand and placed a kiss on her palm, then closed her fingers around it. “I’ll call you every chance I get. I’ll write you every day.”
“Good luck,” she said, fighting tears. “Keep yourself safe.”
“I will.”
“Promise me. I swear, Joey, be safe, no matter what.”
“Of course.”
A whistle sounded. He bent and kissed her, then grabbed his bag and ran along the walkway and through the waiting room. She could see him emerge on the other side of the wrought-iron bars of the platform. He stepped up to a passenger car, turned to give her a last wave. A cloud of dust from the tracks swept across the platform, shrouding him in translucence as the train pulled away.
Jenny simply stood there in the park in front of the station, staring at the empty space where the train had been. The air smelled hot and cindery, and sounds were oddly muted—the traffic, the voices of people passing by. At some point, she sat down on the park bench. With her left thumb, she touched the hard circle of Joey’s ring. What have I done? she asked herself again and again. What have I done?
She lost all track of time. It might have been minutes or even hours later. Afternoon shadows slipped over her. In the clock tower of the town hall, a bell sounded. Finally she got up and wiped her hands on her skirt. She’d best get home. Gram would worry.
But Gram didn’t seem worried. She was waiting, her soft white hair freshly done by the visiting nurse who looked after her each day. She was watching Oprah, but when Jenny came through the door, she turned off the TV.
Jenny sat down across from her, still feeling a bit stunned. She held out her hand with the ring on it. “Joey gave me this. He wants to get married.”
“Yes,” Gram said. “I know. He asked me.” Gram’s smile was crooked, a side effect of the stroke, but her eyes shone with happiness. “It is such a blessing. I have always wanted you to find someone who looks at you and sees what I see. He will make you happy.”
“I’m afraid,” Jenny said. “I’m not sure I love him in a marrying way.” She had dreams. Aspirations. She didn’t know if any of them were enhanced by this engagement. “I didn’t say yes.”
“You took the ring.”
“Oh, Gram.”
“Joey is a good man. He is like us, not like a rich boy who is careless with your heart.”
“I want to make sure I’m not being careless with him,” Jenny said. She felt weighed down by the awesome responsibility of making another person happy, sharing her life with him. She had no idea if she could do that. Joey thought she could, though. He believed in her.
* * *
When Rourke pulled up in front of Jenny’s house, he saw her on the front porch, writing longhand in a spiral-bound notebook. She worked with such deep concentration that she didn’t seem to notice him as he parked at a bad angle along the curb and jumped out, leaving the door ajar.
She looked up and saw him and for a split second he was sure he saw unguarded pleasure in her eyes. Then she slapped her writing book shut and stood up. “Rourke, is something wrong?” she asked.
He stood at the bottom of the porch steps and looked at her, and the tightness in his chest finally unfurled. Her question was ironic because something had been wrong all summer, and he’d finally figured out how to make it right. It was so simple, really. He was in love with this beautiful brown-eyed girl, whom he’d known since they were kids. Sure, it was complicated, since she’d been going out with Joey, but that was over now. Joey had left on the morning train.
Rourke had put himself through hell, trying to convince himself that what he felt for her wasn’t love. He was done with all that. He joined her on the front porch and took her hand. “I came to talk to you about something,” he said. He voice sounded too low and rough. He cleared his throat. “It’s kind of important.” And God, he hoped it was to her, too. “I wanted to tell you that I’m—”
A train whistle sounded, drowning out his next words. At the end of the street, red lights flashed as the gates started to close. A car heading toward town sped up, clearly attempting to get across the tracks before the train arrived. Rourke tensed as the gates lowered, nearly crashing onto the hood of the car. Idiot, thought Rourke. His hurry could have gotten him killed.
The moment passed and he looked back at Jenny. “Sorry. What I meant to say was—”
“There’s something I need to tell you, too,” she said, very gently extracting her hand from
