My stomach had decided that breakfast wouldn’t consist of bacon and toast today. That had been perfectly fine yesterday, but today, even the scent of it had sent me running to the bathroom.

Harrison, one of my favorite people, had already put a Sprite outside the bathroom on the small hallway table, along with some saltine crackers. I had been so relieved when he’d come home from the store with the bottled soft drinks. I had no idea when the soft drink had first started being made, and I didn’t care. I was just glad it was around in 1965.

It settled my belly and I sat in the front salon with my boring breakfast of crackers and the lemon-lime soft drink while I waited for the rest of the nausea to subside.

I ended up falling asleep. I did that too often these days.

The sound of a phone ringing jerked me upright and the bottle fell out of my hand to thud lightly on the carpet. Fortunately, it was empty. The few crackers remaining hit the ground as well, and I glanced up sheepishly at Florence as she stepped into the room to pick up the phone.

She winked at me as she answered with a bright and cheery, “Hello!”

But the smile faded all too quickly.

“What…Peter, slow down, say that again…” Her eyelashes started to flutter, tears welling up, then spilling over. “Oh, no. You’re certain? They couldn’t have been mistaken?”

I got up from the chair, twisting my fingers at my waist. The distress in her voice had a knot in my throat.

“Oh, no. No…”

Astor appeared in the doorway, as if his wife’s grief was a beacon and he’d been drawn straight to her.

She turned to him, still talking into the phone. “Yes…I know. Does…yes. Does Glenn know? He does? No, I imagine he’s not.”

Glenn.

My heart started to race, and I bit my inner cheek to keep from demanding to know what was going on.

A soft sob interrupted her before she could finish her next question, and Astor gently took the phone. He gave me a quick look and I went to Florence, escorting her to the couch while Astor spoke. “Hello…this is Astor…oh, hello, Peter. He…yes, I see. Understood. No, I wouldn’t think he would take it well. I’ll…yes, we can try to go over there, but Florence needs some time herself. They were…close.”

I tucked Florence against my shoulder as she cried, waiting for somebody to talk to me.

Glenn was fine.

That was what mattered.

Glenn was fine.

A moment later, Astor hung the phone back in its cradle gently and came to sit on Florence’s other side.

“He’s gone, Astor. Damn that war! I told him not to go!”

The war…dread crept through me and I squeezed my eyes closed.

Florence turned into Astor, but she still gripped my hand as she started to cry in earnest. There wouldn’t be any talking now. Not for the next few minutes at least.

Leaning in, I rested my head against the back of hers, while Astor rocked the both of us.

* * *

“Cane is dead.”

Sometime later, the storm passed and Florence rose to pace over to the window. She spoke in a sad, distant voice that sounded nothing like her. Slim shoulders trembled under the depth of her wracking breaths and she said it again, as if she had to hear it, just to be certain. “Cane is dead. He was killed in Vietnam—he wasn’t even there a month. Peter got the news this morning. He and Glenn were listed as next of kin and they just…well, they heard. Cane is gone.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, unable to think of anything else to say. What else was there?

Florence nodded. “Cane went into the same clinic where I was. Got out about six months after I did. We became friends. We…understood each other. The two of us did everything we could to help Glenn, but we helped each other, too. Nobody knows what it’s like to deal with addiction unless you’ve been there. We’d both been there. I feel like a piece of me is gone now.”

Astor went to her and wrapped his arms around her, his chin nestled in the waves of her hair. She didn’t resist, but she didn’t hold him back either. She kept her arms folded around herself, as if she thought she’d fly into pieces if she dared to move.

“Peter wants me to go see Glenn, Astor. I…I know I should. He shouldn’t be alone. But I don’t know if I can.” Her voice shattered.

“I’ll go.” I don’t know why I blurted it out. Immediately, I wanted to yank the words back. He wouldn’t want to see me. How in the hell would that help? It wouldn’t. It couldn’t.

But the words were out there and Florence lifted her head from Astor’s chest to stare at me. “That…yes.” She nodded. “Yes, you should go.”

“I…um, okay, but are you sure?”

“I won’t be any good for him. We’re both too hurt right now to hold each other up, and Glenn needs somebody there to make sure he doesn’t fall back down into that hole we dragged him out of. You can do that.” Florence stared at me with such hope in her eyes, it almost hurt.

It also made me feel a little sick inside and I couldn’t blame pregnancy hormones either.

I had a bad feeling what I was getting ready to do would make things worse, not better.

But it was too late to do anything about it now.

* * *

“You’re not going on a date,” I told myself, staring into the mirror over the sink.

The lights were too bright, too harsh and called out too many flaws. The sleepless bags under my eyes, the pallor of my skin. I wore a loosely flowing mini-dress with a pair of brightly colored tights that hid the very faint thickening of my waistline. It was very faint, but it was enough that my jeans were getting uncomfortable, so I was wearing dresses more often than not.

Fortunately, the loose flow of the current style meant it was pretty much impossible to distinguish any change in my figure.

But none of that mattered, because I wasn’t going over to Glenn’s for any reason other than to check on him.

Right?

“In a pig’s eye,” I muttered.

No woman ever goes to see a lover without primping a little.

But I’d done enough.

It had been nearly forty minutes since Peter had called Florence and every minute that passed was another minute that Glenn was alone.

Or maybe he wasn’t.

Maybe Kimberly was with him.

Clenching my hands into fists, I promised myself I would handle it if she was with him—and not by grabbing her by the hair and wrenching her away from him either.

I’d just…deal.

I’d cope.

I’d be fine.

I’d be jealous as hell.

On the way down the stairs, I committed myself to the fact that I’d hide my jealousy from him—and her—no matter what.

Harrison had already brought the car around and was waiting for me. We left without speaking to Florence or Astor. I could still hear them talking, and her voice was husky, rough with tears. I hurt for her, but the best thing I could do for her now was this—try to talk to Glenn.

Try.

Fail.

Make it worse for her and him.

“What am I doing?” I whispered.

“You’re helping a friend,” Harrison said softly as he opened the door for me.

I gave him a wan smile. “I feel like I’m about to face the lion in its den.”

“He won’t be much of a lion today, Miss Maya.” He gave me a tired smile and patted my shoulder before nodding at me to climb in.

As I sat in the back of the car, I found myself smoothing my dress down, then my hair. I could do this. I’d traveled back and forth through time. I could go up there and face the lion in his den.

* * *

“Wow. It looks like the castle where Beauty found the beast.”

Harrison chuckled. “Well, in that case, Miss Maya, you’ll have a much easier time of it. After all, the two of you are already in love.”

“Yes.” As we took the twisting road toward the house, I studied it, trying to figure out what had drawn Glenn toward it. It looked half abandoned, surrounded by a brick fence that faced the road. On the other side lay the ocean.

“How long has he lived here?”

“I’m not sure. It’s been in his family for a while. I guess he moved here after…well.” Harrison shrugged.

“After.” After me, I finished for him. “There’s a gate. It’s closed.”

“I can open it. He gave a key to Miss Florence, and I take care of it. I’ll get you in there.” He was quiet a moment, then he asked, “Are you comfortable talking to him, Miss Maya? I know you two didn’t part on the best of terms.”

“He’s angry with me,” I said, looking out the window as the car rolled to a stop in front of the gate. “I understand why. I’ll be fine. But thank you.”

It took another few minutes before we finally reached the house. The yard was overgrown. Rose bushes crept up the sides of the house and threatened to overtake what looked to be a fountain. I imagined this place would be beautiful if some time and love were put into it.

“Here we are,” Harrison said unnecessarily. “You’ll take the path there. It takes you through to the front door.”

I nodded as he parked the car and waited, for once, for him to let me out as I swiped my hands down the front of my dress. Florence really should be the one out here. I didn’t even know what to say to Glenn now.

But after Harrison gave me one more encouraging smile, I turned toward the house and took a breath. The sidewalk took a twisting path through an overgrown front yard, hidden behind private walls. It looked and felt a little like a jungle.

The lights in the house were off.

I heard nothing coming from within—but Glenn’s car was in the driveway. Harrison had pointed it out as we parked.

Didn’t mean he couldn’t have done somewhere with Kimberly in her car. That thought had me gritting my teeth, even as I pictured her being here, opening the door.

Or maybe she was in his bed. Naked. Oh, man. What was I going to do if the two of them answered the door together?

I’d die. I’d be crushed. I’d run back to Harrison crying, and I just might never stop.

Reaching the front step, I stood, practically panting. Get it done, I told myself. I had to, just so I could get out of here without making an idiot of myself.

Get it done.

So I could go back to the house and sit in my room, stay out of the way and not intrude on Florence’s grief.

Immediately, I felt like an idiot—she’d been nothing less than wonderful to me, but I couldn’t always be in somebody else’s home. That was their space, and she should be alone with her husband to grieve.

Just another thing I had to figure out.

Bracing myself, I squared my shoulders and knocked.

There was no answer.

I knocked again and listened as the sound echoed hollowly inside the house. I almost turned back to the car, back to Harrison. I could stay in the guesthouse for a few days. I’d been comfortable there before. It wouldn’t be hard to make myself comfortable there again, let Florence have some time, just her and Astor.

But instead of following the walk back down to where Harrison waited in the car, I chased the raging, rushing sound of the water. The ocean crashing into the sand. The day was overcast, the wind grabbing my hair and tearing it away from my face, only to slap it right back until it stung my eyes. Shoving it back and trying to tame it, I came to a halt as the walkway opened up onto a broad, open vista—a stone patio that looked like it had been crafted from the very earth itself. Following the natural path it cut into the lay, I found myself staring into Glenn’s eyes.

He sat on a table.

There was no surprise in his eyes as he looked at me.

There wasn’t much of anything in his eyes.

He looked dull, all but lifeless, and when he looked away to stare back over the water, the ache inside me spread so fast and cold, I thought it just might stop my heart.

“Glenn.”

Not even a flicker that he’d heard me.

I took another step closer, then another.

He kept staring out over the water, unblinking.

“I…” Hesitant, I came to a stop just off to the side. He didn’t still look at me. “I heard about Cane.”

No response.

“Peter called Florence’s house. He wanted her to come out and talk to you, but she’s…she’s not handling it too well herself. I said I’d come and make sure you were okay.”

A deep shuddering sigh escaped him and he dropped his head to stare down at the stones beneath us. His shoulders spasmed with each shudder, and every muscle, every sinew of his body was drawn tight enough to snap. I would have given anything to be able to reach out to him, to touch him and take away this pain.

Instead, I stood there with my arms crossed awkwardly around my middle as he lost himself in grief.

“Is there anything I can do?”

Abruptly, he pushed away from the table and stormed inside. The movement was so sudden, I jumped and he brushed close enough that I felt the heat of him. Longing swam through me and I shoved it deep, deep down inside me. There was no room for that, no time. I couldn’t be feeling any of that right now. Any of it.

Without saying a word, and while I was trying to get my stupid emotions under control, Glenn strode toward the French doors that opened onto the patio.

I slumped, expecting to hear them slam.

Seconds passed.

Silence.

Slowly, I looked up and found on the doors left open.

The lights inside were still off.

But he’d left the door open.

Something told me that it hadn’t been an accident. “Here we go, then.”