“Man, that air smells good,” he said, as she retrieved her pocketbook and locked the van.
“What shall we do first?” she asked. “We could take a stroll to the end of the pier, or go get something to eat. Red’s Diner is always a good choice.”
A small burger shack stood near the entrance to the pier, and the smell of fried food wafted on the air. Jamie realized he was famished. He hadn’t eaten breakfast after Rachel had left that morning, and now his stomach was talking to him.
“Let’s go grab some food at that little burger joint, and take it out to the pier,” he suggested.
“That sounds perfect,” Rachel agreed, and made to grab hold of the handles on the back of the wheelchair.
“Whoa, what are you doing?” Jamie demanded, frowning at her. “I don’t need you to push me. In fact, I could use the exercise.”
He demonstrated his ability by grabbing the wheels and expertly maneuvering the chair in a circle, before rocking it back into a wheelie.
Rachel raised her hands in surrender, laughing. “Okay, I get it. Sorry to violate your man-card!”
She walked beside him as they made their way across the parking lot to the pier, and he reveled in the cool breeze on his face. Two young women, dressed in shorts and soft cotton tops, who clearly weren’t wearing bras, strolled past them and smiled at Jamie, before falling against each other, laughing.
He grinned broadly after they had passed. “I love when the weather turns warm.”
Beside him, Rachel gave an indelicate snort. “Aren’t they a little young?”
He had no interest in the girls, but he couldn’t resist baiting Rachel, just a little. “I don’t know,” he mused. “They looked to be in their early twenties. I’m twenty-six, so I think we’re in the same league. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Excuse me!” The two young women had returned, and now they were looking both sheepish and hopeful. The first girl smiled at Jamie. “We couldn’t help but notice nobody has signed your cast. Would you mind if we did?”
Jamie laughed in surprise. The girls were right; the plaster was still smooth and unblemished. He spun the chair toward them.
“Be my guest,” he offered.
The girls fished around in their purses until one triumphantly produced a couple of gel pens, in pink and purple. Jamie was acutely conscious of Rachel, standing just to one side, watching. He didn’t look at her as the girls knelt on the wooden walkway on either side of his leg, and proceeded to draw on the cast. Their hair fell forward as they worked, obscuring their efforts.
“Thank you for letting us do this,” the first girl enthused.
“Are you in the service?” The second girl glanced up at him, and her eyes swept over him, missing nothing.
Jamie nodded. “Yeah, I am.”
“Oh! Did this happen in combat?”
“It did,” he confirmed.
They both made little cooing sounds of sympathy, and renewed their artistic endeavors.
“There!” The first girl rose to her feet and surveyed her handiwork. “I hope you like it.”
Jamie nearly groaned aloud when he saw the swirly hearts and flowers she had drawn, along with the caption, Get Well Soon! Beneath the hearts, her name was a looping scrawl.
“Okay, all done,” declared the second girl. Standing up, she gave Jamie a shy smile. “I wrote my number, right there. If you ever want to get out, maybe have a drink, just give me a call.”
She had drawn two purple palm trees bowing toward each other, and between them, a setting sun complete with pointy rays of sunshine. In the center of the sun she’d written her name and number.
“Ah, thank you—” Jamie peered down at his leg “—Chelsea.”
“You’re welcome. Thank you for your service.” Chelsea’s smile broadened and she reached out to shake Jamie’s hand. “Well, we should get going. Give us a call sometime!”
“Bye,” said the first girl.
“Thanks again, ladies.”
He waited until they were out of earshot before he began pushing his chair again. “They obviously don’t think I’m too old for them,” he observed, suppressing a grin. “And they can’t be that young if they’re old enough to go out for drinks.”
Rachel was silent, and when he risked a glance at her, he almost regretted teasing her. He couldn’t see her eyes behind her sunglasses, but he recognized the disapproving set of her jaw, and her rigid posture. He sighed inwardly. The old Rachel—the one he’d been crazy about as a teen—wouldn’t have given a shit about other pretty girls, because she’d been that secure in herself. She’d had so much confidence, and such a zest for life that she hadn’t concerned herself with petty trivialities like jealousy or self-doubt.