then what’s wrong?”
Justine ignored the question and doctored her tea. “I heard from James last week.”
Her mother stared at her blankly. “What does James have to do with this?”
“He sounded good.”
“Good?”
“Happy,” she elaborated.
“Does he have a new girlfriend?”
She couldn’t believe her mother hadn’t made the connection. “Not…exactly.”
“He’s seeing the same girl as before? Selina? I can’t recall her surname at the moment.”
“Solis.”
“Hmm. Every time James mentions her, they’re fighting over one thing or another.”
“They’re getting along just fine at the moment,” Justine said, struggling not to laugh outright. Her mother appeared to be completely dense.
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“Are you, Mother?” Justine pressed.
“Of course I am.” Olivia hesitated. “Are you trying to tell me that James and Selina are engaged?”
“No, I’m here to tell you they’re married.”
“Married?” Olivia came out of her chair and just as quickly sat down again. “Married? Without letting me know? Without a word until the deed is done?”
“James was afraid of how you’d react.”
“He should be a lot more afraid of what I’m going to say now,” Olivia muttered grimly. “Why would he think such a thing? What about Selina’s family? Was it as much of a shock to them?”
“Apparently not.”
“How do you mean?”
“Selina’s father insisted they be married by a priest.”
“James isn’t Catholic.”
“He’s converting.” Justine could see from the bewilderment in her mother’s eyes that she found it difficult to take in the news. The son she’d raised Protestant had converted to Catholicism overnight.
“He must love her very much,” Olivia responded thoughtfully.
“I’m sure he does.”
“So in other words, my son and this young woman I’ve never met were married in a Catholic ceremony without telling anyone from our family?”
“Yes,” Justine concurred.
“Why?”
Justine held her breath for an instant. “James wanted you and Dad there, but he was afraid you might disapprove.”
“For the love of heaven, why? Because Selina’s Hispanic? James knows us better than that.”
Justine shrugged. She disagreed with what her brother had done, but it was too late to worry about that.
“When will I meet her?”
“Mom, there’s more.”
Olivia set the cup back into the saucer.
“Selina’s pregnant, isn’t she?”
Finally, Mom. It took you long enough. “I talked to Selina myself,” Justine said cheerfully. “She sounds delightful. James is crazy about her and I’m sure she’s going to make him a good wife.”
Her mother didn’t look nearly as certain. “How far along?”
This was the hard part. “She’s due in four months.”
“Four months,” her mother echoed. “I’m going to be a grandmother in four months?”
“It seems that way.”
Her mother didn’t say anything for several moments, then her eyes glistened and Justine could tell she was struggling not to cry.
“Mom, does being a grandmother bother you so much?”
Olivia shook her head and dabbed at her eyes with the napkin. “Oh, no… I just wish my son had the courage to tell me himself.”
Justine hugged her close. “He’s waiting to hear from you now. Do you want me to dial the phone for you?”
Her mother nodded. “Please.”
Five
Cecilia arrived for work at four, an hour earlier than she was scheduled to start. The bar at The Captain’s Galley was already getting crowded. She slipped onto a padded stool, hoping for an opportunity to speak to her father.
“How you doin’, kiddo?” Bobby Merrick asked from the other side of the counter. “Can I get you something to drink?”
Cecilia hated it when he treated her like a customer. “Okay, how about a cup of coffee?”
“You sure you don’t want anything stronger?”
“Positive.” In some respects, her father had never grown up, still dressing and acting like he had as a young man. He had shoulder-length graying hair, and his wardrobe consisted of wildly printed shirts that he wore with jeans. While that didn’t bother Cecilia, there were times she wanted and needed him to be a father. This afternoon was one of those times.
He brought her a mug of stale black coffee, waited on someone else, then drifted back to visit with her. “Heard from your mother lately?” he asked.
After her parents’ divorce, Bobby—which he insisted Cecilia call him—had left New Hampshire and moved first to New Mexico, then Arizona and had gradually drifted north to Washington State.
“She phoned this weekend.”
“She’s well?” To the best of her knowledge, her parents hadn’t spoken to or seen each other in years, until last May, when her mother flew out for Cecilia’s wedding. Now all of a sudden Bobby was asking about her.
“Mom’s doing fine.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” he said, leaning against the bar. “She’s one hell of a woman.”
That being the case, Cecilia wondered why he’d abandoned them both, but she didn’t want to bring up any unpleasantness. She understood her father. He couldn’t tolerate conflict of any kind. He wanted people to love each other and get along, as he’d frequently explained to Cecilia. He couldn’t function if anyone was upset with him; he even disliked being around other people’s arguments. When a situation became too intense for him, he simply moved on.
He’d asked
