Page 72 of Happy After All

I sort of wish he were a pirate, in one of those old-school romance novels. Then he could take me off to his pirate ship and we could forget about practical things like reality.

“Plundering and ravishing is something I’m known for.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” I say, my cheeks getting hot.

We walk out of the courtyard and into the lot.

“We can drive my car,” I say. “If you want. It’s a lot of dirt roads, and I have my little Jeep.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Sure.”

We get into my car, and I pull out of the parking lot, taking the familiar road to Joshua Tree.

“I have a pass,” I say. “I love to go up there. It’s beautiful when it rains.”

“I’ve been,” he says. “It’s just been a while.”

“Really? You haven’t visited in the summer when you come here?”

“No. I haven’t been in about ... nine years.”

“Oh,” I say. “That is a long time.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “So, what is the deal with all the people who just live in your motel?”

“Oh, well, I think Jonathan and Joseph have always loved the desert. Albert, like I said, may be on the run from the law. The older ladies are all widows.”

“Odd, living in a motel, isn’t it?”

“I guess,” I say. “But I do, so I can’t really throw stones.”

“I just mean . . .”

“I think it’s a little less constricting than assisted living, and none of them need any medical help. They have a sense of community, and the rooms are small enough, and they get maid service. They’re not alone. I think that’s important. Alice is in her nineties. She was with her husband for a long time, and when she lost him, she lost the life she loved. She moved to the Pink Flamingo, and she made friends. I’m grateful, because those women are the first healthy maternal figures I’ve ever had.”

“Right,” he says, sounding distracted. “You mentioned that your mom ...”

“Yeah,” I say. “She’s a whole thing.” I’m silent for a moment. “What about your dad?”

“My dad’s career military,” he says. “So that’s what he wanted for me.”

“Military,” I say.

I saw the military in him the night of the fire, and I see it now. Tall, broad shoulders, muscular. There is something hard and dangerous about him. But at the same time, he doesn’t possess an ounce of military precision. He isn’t the type to follow orders.

“Yeah, it’s a family thing, not just a me thing. I’m a West Point grad. I did my four years. And that was it. When I tell you that is not good enough for Captain Richard Hart, I’m not exaggerating.”

“Sorry. That must be difficult. My mom didn’t even have any expectations of me—she just didn’t seem to want me there. Especially after she and my dad split up. He had an affair. So, my experience of men and fidelity is ... limited. But you know, my dad ended up with this great woman. She’s really nice. My mom is a sour cow. Even though what he did was wrong, I ... I don’t blame him. It’s a tough one.”

“Family is complicated,” he says. “My mom was ... She was always great.”

“Sorry,” I say. I pick up on the past tense even though it goes by quickly.

“Yeah. Well. That’s the natural order of things, right?”

“I suppose so,” I say.

It hits me now, how long it’s been since I’ve done this. Not just the sex. I was extremely conscious of how long it had been since I’d done that. Talking to a man while being naked with him is still so fresh.

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