“I took them sailing,” Nate said. “Nice day, steady breeze, we beat one of my least favorite people ever in a race with Marissa at the helm, which made the victory all the sweeter. Had some lunch. Got sunburned. I dropped them off at the club, and they left. What was that all about, anyway? Adam called and asked if I could recommend a place for day lessons in Chicago. I could tell this wasn’t just any person, so I volunteered the Resolute.”
Alana laughed, a trill of delight Lucas hadn’t heard from her. “So instead of Marissa spending the day tacking around the beaches on a rowboat with a mast, she spent the day sailing a Herreshoff yacht?”
“It was the most use I’d been to anyone in months,” Nate said with a shrug. “She was a natural. Lots of reading, not too self-conscious to ask questions and put the answers into practice. What did you know about her interest in sailing?”
“I was her enabler, or maybe her dealer. When I got to Walkers Ford, she asked me to order books through the interlibrary loan for her. All of them were about sailing. She was very quiet about it. Adam took it from there.”
“And now they’re back in San Diego after six months cruising around the Pacific, about to get married.”
Both men got a little quiet then. She had a quick glance at Nate’s left hand. Bare. She tried to remember if her mother had mentioned a divorce or even a separation, and came up blank. Freddie wouldn’t have bothered to pass on the gossip, even if she knew. But Nate left her relationship status alone, so she didn’t bring up his marriage.
The conversation continued until the Rockies rose from the western plains. Rock climbing and other extreme sports took over at that point, carrying on until the western deserts in California appeared below them. Lucas asked questions about Nate’s military training and service, and Nate started telling funny stories again, about Adam, then the men they would meet when they landed.
It was easy for Alana to slip back into her lifelong role as the smiling observer.
They landed in San Diego. After the plane taxied to a halt, Alana woke up Darla and helped her get the dress from the hanging cupboard. Nate opened the door to a wave of heat and sunshine so tangible Alana felt her skin soaking up the heat. She slipped her sunglasses from her purse. Nate went down the stairs first, then reached up to help Darla, then Alana from the plane.
“Oh, goodness,” Darla said.
At first Alana thought she was commenting on the brilliant blue sky and the hint of ocean breeze, but when a crowd of whooping men engulfed Nate, taking him to the tarmac in a group tackle, she just smiled and stepped back.
“I understand why it was so hard for Adam to come home,” Darla said quietly.
The pile of muscles and boots untangled and righted itself, ending with Nate, grinning and cursing under his breath as he brushed dirt from his clothes. As one, the group turned to face Lucas, Alana, and Darla.
“Gentlemen,” Nate said. “Ms. Alana Wentworth. Lucas Ridgeway. Mrs. Collins, Adam’s mother.”
Respectful smiles and handshakes for Darla morphed into something slightly edgier and more inviting for Alana, then the whole group turned for the waiting vehicles, sorting out people and luggage with a fair amount of discussion. Lucas opened the back door of the car for Alana, then slid into the backseat with her. The small convoy headed west, toward the ocean, and came to a halt at one of San Diego’s hotel/marina complexes, where Adam and Marissa were renting a slip. Alana eagerly slid out of the car, scanning the sterns for Prairie Dreams.
“There she is,” Nate said, pointing over her shoulder.
She was used for both women and boats, and in this case could have referred to either Marissa or her sturdy, practical little boat. Alana stopped in amazement, staring at the woman confidently crossing the gap between boat and dock. Her hair streamed down her back, honey streaked in the darker brown and red strands. She wore a pair of khaki shorts and a red halter top. Swimsuit straps clung tight against her shoulders. Every inch of exposed skin was tanned to the color of caramel, but the most shocking change was in her face.
Laughter danced in Marissa Brooks’s eyes. She looked gloriously, radiantly happy, deliriously pleased with life. The woman Alana had met in Walkers Ford was pretty, dark, compressed under the weight of over a hundred years of family history and obligation. This was a woman bursting with life, and confidence, and sheer joy.
She loped down the dock to envelop Alana in a hug. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re here!” she said.
“Ack!” Alana said, hugging her back tightly. “I’m glad to be here, too. Oh, let me take that!” she said, turning to Darla.
She relieved Darla of the precious dress mere moments before Adam swept his mother into a tight hug. She kissed his cheek, then stepped back to let him greet people he hadn’t seen since he left the Corps.
Holding her ground in the milling crowd of big male bodies, Marissa peered at the dress. “I can’t believe you made this in time,” she said to Darla. “Oh, I can’t wait to see it!”