“Uncle Adam lives in the Seattle area,” Ali reminded her. She’d been saving that tidbit, hoping the news would make her daughter feel more positive about this most recent upheaval in their lives.
“He’s in Everett,” Jazmine said, her voice apathetic.
“I understand that’s only thirty or forty minutes from Seattle.”
“It is?”
Her daughter revealed her first spark of interest since they’d learned of the transfer. “Does he know we’re coming?” She sat upright, eager now.
“Not yet.” Busy as she’d been, Ali hadn’t told Adam Kennedy—her husband’s best friend and Jazz’s godfather—that Jazmine would soon be living in Seattle.
“Then we have to tell him!”
“We will, all in due course,” Ali assured her.
“Do it now.” Her daughter leaped off the bed, sprinted into the living room and came back with the portable phone.
“I don’t have his number.” Ali hadn’t been thinking clearly; their phone directory had already been packed away and she simply didn’t have time to search for it.
“I do.” Once more her daughter made a mad dash out of the bedroom, returning a moment later. Breathless, Jazmine handed Ali a tidy slip of paper.
Ali unfolded it curiously and saw a phone number written by an adult hand.
“Uncle Adam sent it to me,” Jazmine explained. “He told me I could call him whenever I needed to talk. He said it didn’t matter what time of day or night I phoned, so call him, Mom. This is important.”
Ali resisted the urge to find out if her daughter had taken advantage of Adam’s offer before now and decided she probably had. For Jazmine, it was as if the sun rose and set on Peter’s friend. Lieutenant Commander Adam Kennedy had been a support to both of them since the accident that had abruptly taken Peter out of their lives.
It sounded so cut and dried to say a computer had malfunctioned aboard Peter’s F/A-18. He hadn’t had a chance to recover before the jet slammed into the ground. He’d died instantly, his life snuffed out in mere seconds. That was two years ago now, two very long years, and every day since, Peter had been with her. Her first thought was always of him and his image was the last one her mind released before she went to sleep at night. He was part of her. She saw him in Jazmine’s smile, in the three little lines that formed between the girl’s eyebrows when she frowned. Peter had done that, too. And their eyes were the exact same shade of brownish green.
As an SMO, or senior medical officer, Ali was familiar with death. What she didn’t know was how to deal with the aftermath of it. She still struggled and, as a result, she understood her sister’s pain. Yes, Shana’s breakup with Brad was different, and of a lesser magnitude, but it was a loss. In ending her relationship with him, Shana was also giving up a dream, one she’d held and cherished for five years. She was adjusting to a new version of her life and her future. Shana had flippantly dismissed any doubts or regrets about the breakup. Those would come later, like a sneak attack—probably when Shana least expected it. They had with Ali.
“Mom,” Jazmine cried, exasperated. “Dial!”
“Oh, sorry,” Ali murmured, punching out the number. An answering machine came on almost immediately.
“He isn’t there?” Jazmine asked, studying her. She didn’t hide her disappointment. It was doom and gloom all over again as she threw herself backward onto the bed, arms spread-eagled.
Ali left a message and asked him to get in touch.
“When do you think he’ll call?” Jazmine demanded impatiently.
“I don’t know, but I’ll make sure we get a chance to see him if it’s possible.”
“Of course it’s possible,” Jazmine argued. “He’ll want to see me. And you, too.”
Ali shrugged. “He might not be back by the time I need to fly out, but you’ll see him, don’t worry.”
Jazmine wouldn’t look at her. Instead she stared morosely at the ceiling, as if she didn’t have a friend in the world. The kid had moved any number of times and had always been a good sport about it, until now. Ali didn’t blame her for being upset, but there wasn’t anything she could do to change her orders.
“You’ll love living with your aunt Shana,” Alison said, trying a new tactic. “Did I tell you she has an icecream parlor? How much fun is that?”
Jazmine wasn’t impressed. “I don’t really know her.”
“This will be your opportunity to bond.”
Jazmine sighed. “I don’t want to bond with her.”
“You will eventually,” Ali said with forced brightness. Jazmine wasn’t fooled.
“I’m not glue, you know.”
Alison held back a smile. “We both need to make the best of this, Jazz. I don’t want to leave you any more than you want me to go.”
Her daughter scrambled to a sitting position. As her shoulders slumped, she nodded. “I know.”
“Your aunt Shana loves you.”
“Yippee, skippy.”
Alison tried again. “The ice-cream parlor is directly across the street from the park.”
“Yippee.”
“Jazmine!”
“I know, I know.”
Ali wrapped one arm around the girl’s shoulders. “The months will fly by. You’ll see.”
Jazmine shook her head. “No, they won’t,” she said adamantly, “and I have to change schools again. I hate that.”
Changing schools, especially this late in the year, would be difficult. In a few weeks, depending on the Seattle schedule, classes would be dismissed for the summer. Ali kissed the top of Jazmine’s head and closed her eyes. She had the distinct feeling her daughter was right. The next six months wouldn’t fly, they’d crawl. For all three of them…
Shana wanted children, someday, when the time was right. But she’d assumed she’d take on the role of motherhood the way everyone else did. She’d start with an infant and sort of grow into it—ease into being a parent gradually, learning as she went. Instead, she was about to get a crash course. She wondered if there were manuals to help with this kind of situation.
Pacing her living room, she paused long enough to check out the spare bedroom one last time. She’d added some welcoming touches for Jazmine’s benefit and hoped the stuffed teddy bear would appeal to her niece. Girls of any age liked stuffed animals, didn’t they? The bedspread, a fetching shade of pink with big white daisies, was new, as was the matching pink throw rug. She just hoped Jazmine would recognize that she was trying to make this work.
She wanted Jazmine to know she was willing to make an effort if the girl would meet her halfway. Still, Shana didn’t have a good feeling about it.
Her suspicions proved correct. When Ali arrived, it was immediately apparent that Jazmine wanted nothing to do with her aunt Shana. The nine-year-old was dressed in faded green fatigues and a camouflage armygreen T-shirt. She sat on the sofa with a sullen look that discouraged conversation. Her long dark hair fell across her face. When she wasn’t glaring at Shana, she stared at the carpet as if inspecting it for loose fibers.
“I