Jenny laughed aloud, the tears streaming down her face as she snatched up the phone and said, “Joey.”
There was a long-distance delay, and then he said, “Babe, I’m so glad you picked up. I know it’s five in the morning there, but I had to let you know I’m okay. I just got off the phone with my dad. There was a big mix-up at the last minute. I wasn’t on that transport…”
She couldn’t speak. She could barely breathe, and she was shaking with relief as Joey explained something about a manifest made out by a staff sergeant and handed off to someone else to be recorded. While boarding the chopper, Joey was injured and sent to the infirmary. “Like an idiot, I didn’t have my goggles on and something flew into my eye. They’re sending me to Germany for surgery.”
“Jen?” Rourke called from the bed. “Who’s on the phone?”
She whirled around to shush him, but it was too late. “What’s Rourke doing there at this hour?” Joey asked, his voice changing, sharpening.
And Jenny knew, in that instant, that Joey had probably been aware for a long time of this thing between her and Rourke. “I asked him to come over the second I heard,” she said. “He’s your best friend. Who else would I call, Joey?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he said, “I’m being discharged. The Rangers don’t have much use for a one-eyed soldier. I’m coming home.”
She was standing there, still naked and warm from Rourke’s touch, holding the phone when he crossed the bedroom toward her, his hair tousled, his eyes confused. And even now, when she looked at him, Jenny felt a surge of pure helpless lust, mingling with the shame.
And she realized then that she wasn’t going to burn in hell after all. She was already there.
Food for Thought
BY JENNY MAJESKY
On Fire
People like to set things on fire. Admit it, when you see a flaming dessert, you’re impressed. There’s something mesmerizing about the way the flames run like a river and then go out, leaving behind a delicious, unmistakable essence.
There’s a primal attraction to burning things. According to a Polish proverb, fire is never a gentle master. Henry James claims that what is needed is “unrestrained passion, fire for fire.” Which is a little scary, if you ask me, but that just makes this all the more delicious.
BURNING LOVE
8 slices bread
3 cups heavy cream
1 whole egg
3 egg yolks
1-½ cups sugar
½ teaspoon nutmeg
½ teaspoon cinnamon
¼ cup rum
½ cup raisins or currants, steeped for 15 minutes in a cup of very hot water (reserve liquid)
Preheat the oven to 350°F. Dice bread into cubes. Whisk together cream, whole egg, egg yolks, ½ cup sugar, nutmeg, cinnamon, and 1 tablespoon of rum. Combine bread cubes and cream mixture.
Drain raisins and reserve the liquid. Add raisins to bread mixture. Spoon mixture into soufflé cups. Place cups in a baking pan filled with hot water ½ inch deep. Bake until a knife inserted in center of custards comes out clean, about 30 minutes.
Just before serving, combine reserved liquid and remaining sugar in a small saucepan and bring to a simmer, whisking constantly, over high heat. When sugar turns amber, carefully whisk another ½ cup of hot water. Return to a simmer and cook until mixture becomes the consistency of syrup. Stir in remaining rum and return to heat for 15 seconds. Remove saucepan from heat and touch a match to sauce. Pour flaming caramel over puddings and serve.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Daisy was surprised and even somewhat pleased by the way her family reacted to her news. Almost everyone took it in stride. There was no shock and horror. More like sympathy and understanding. Oh, her brother, Max, thought the whole thing was gross and told her she was an idiot, but at his age—eleven—he pretty much thought all girls were idiots. And he did admit the prospect of becoming an uncle was cool.
On the day she had chosen to tell her friends, she awoke to the blinding white beauty of a snow day. Even before she checked the school district’s Web site for closure information, she knew. Snow day. What greater gift could there be? There was something so magical about a snow day—unplanned, an entire day when everything would simply stop, suspended until the roads were cleared. No school. No work. All obligations and appointments canceled, all deadlines extended. Nothing to do except laze around. Instead of squirming through civics, she could sleep in and eat breakfast while watching Dialing for Dollars. Instead of scrambling for an excuse about her undone physics assignment, she could finish it up at her leisure.
She was just about to burrow back under the covers when her cell phone rang. She glanced at the screen and then flipped it open. “What are you doing up? It’s a snow day.”
“Exactly,” Sonnet said, her voice musical with excitement. “Dress warmly, but wear layers. We might be working up a sweat where we’re going.”
Daisy couldn’t help smiling. Sonnet always had some kind of adventure up her sleeve. “What’s up?” she asked.
“Bring your camera,” Sonnet said. “Meet us at the bakery in half an hour. We’re going snowshoeing. Zach’s bringing all the gear.”
It must be a sign, Daisy thought, closing her phone and pulling on insulated underwear. A snow day, and an invitation out of the blue. Maybe today was the day she was supposed to tell them. As she brushed her teeth, she turned sideways and studied her silhouette in the mirror. Her body had been taken over by an alien life force. She vacillated between bouts of nausea and insatiable cravings. Her boobs were tender and getting too
