“Ruth, it’s your grandmother.”
“Grandma,” Ruth said, genuinely pleased to hear from Helen. “I’ve been meaning to call you and I haven’t. I’m sorry.”
Her grandmother chuckled. “I didn’t call to make you feel guilty. I’m inviting you to lunch.”
“When?”
“In a couple of weeks—on Sunday the seventeenth if that works for you. I figured I’d give you plenty of time to fit me into your schedule. I thought we’d sit out on the patio, weather permitting, and enjoy the view of the cove.”
Her grandmother’s duplex was on a hill overlooking the water with the lighthouse in the distance. Her grandparents had lived in Cedar Cove for as long as Ruth could remember, and Helen had stayed there after her husband’s death. Because Ruth had been born and raised in Oregon, she’d visited the small Washington town often through the years. “I’ve wanted to get over to see you.”
“I know, I know, but unless we both plan ahead, it won’t happen. In no time you’ll have your master’s degree and then you’ll move on and we’ll both regret the missed opportunities. I don’t want that.”
“I don’t, either.” Her Grandma Shelton was Ruth’s favorite relative. She was highly educated, which wasn’t particularly common for a woman her age, and spoke French and German fluently. She’d worked as a translator from the 1950s through the ’80s, specializing in French novels, which she translated into English. Her father hadn’t said much about his mother’s life prior to her marriage, and one of the reasons Ruth had chosen to attend the University of Washington was so she could get to know her grandmother better.
“I can put you down for lunch, then?”
“Yes, that would be lovely.” Her gaze fell on Paul’s letter and Ruth realized that the date her grandmother had suggested was the first weekend Paul would be in town. He’d specifically asked her to keep as much of that two-week period free as she could. She wanted to spend time with him and yet she couldn’t refuse her grandmother. “Grandma, I’m looking at my calendar and—”
“Is there a conflict?”
“Not…exactly. I’ve sort of got a date,” she said, assuming she and Paul would be seeing each other. It would be ideal if he could join her. “It isn’t anything official, so I—”
“Then you do have another commitment.”
“No…” This was getting complicated. “Well, not exactly,” she said again.
“I wasn’t aware that you were dating anyone special. Who is he?”
The question hung there for a moment before Ruth answered. “His name is Paul Gordon and we aren’t really dating.” She would’ve continued, except that her grandmother broke in.
“Your parents didn’t say anything about this.” The words were spoken as if there must be something untoward about Paul that Ruth didn’t want to divulge.
“No, Mom and Dad wouldn’t,” Ruth said, not adding that she hadn’t actually mentioned Paul to her parents. She’d decided it wasn’t necessary to enlighten them about this correspondence yet. Explaining her feelings about Paul to her family would be difficult when everyone knew her political views. More importantly, she wasn’t sure how she felt about him and wouldn’t be until they’d met.
So far, they were only pen pals, but this was the man she dreamed about every night, the man who dominated her thoughts each and every day.
“Grandma, I haven’t said anything to Mom and Dad because I haven’t officially met Paul yet.”
“Is this…” Her grandmother hesitated. “Is this one of those…those internet relationships?” She spit out the word as though meeting a man via the internet was either illegal or unseemly—most likely both.
“No, Grandma, it’s nothing like that.”
“Then why don’t your parents know about him?”
“Well, because…because he’s a soldier in Afghanistan.” There—it was out.
Her announcement was greeted by silence. “There’s something wrong with that?” she eventually asked.
“No…”
“You say it like you’re ashamed.”
“I’m not ashamed,” Ruth insisted. “I like Paul a great deal and I’m proud of his service to our country.” She downplayed her political beliefs as she expanded on her feelings. “I enjoy his letters and like him more than I probably should, but I don’t like the fact that he’s a soldier.”
“You sound confused.”
Ruth sighed. That was certainly an accurate description of how she felt.
“So this Paul will be in Seattle on leave?”
“Yes. For two weeks.”
“He’s coming here to meet you?”
“His family also lives in the area.”
“Invite him along for lunch,” her grandmother said. “I want to meet him, too.”
“You do?” Ruth’s enthusiasm swelled. “That’s great. I thought of it, but I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about having him join us.”
“I meant what I said. I want to meet him.”
“We’ve only been writing for a few months. I don’t know him well, and…” She let the rest fade.
“It’ll be fine, Ruth,” her grandmother assured her. Helen always seemed to understand what Ruth was feeling. She’d found ways to encourage the special bond between them.
“Grandpa was a soldier when you first met him, wasn’t he?” Ruth remembered her father telling her this years ago, although he’d also said his mother didn’t like to talk about those years. Ruth assumed that was because of Grandpa Sam’s bad memories of the war, the awful things he’d seen and experienced in Europe. She knew her grandparents had met during the Second World War, fallen in love and married soon afterward. Ruth’s father had been born in the baby boom years that followed, and her uncle Jake had arrived two years later. Ruth was Helen’s only granddaughter, but she had three grandsons.
“Oh, yes.” She sighed wistfully. “My Sam was so handsome, especially in his uniform.” Her voice softened perceptibly.
“How long did you know him before you were married?”
Her grandmother laughed. “Less than a year. In wartime everything’s very intense. People married quickly because you never knew if you’d still be alive tomorrow. It was as if those of us who were young had to cram as much life into as short a time as possible.”
“The war was terrible, wasn’t it?”
Helen sighed before whispering, “All war is terrible.”
“I agree,” Ruth said promptly.
“So you and this soldier you’ve never met are discussing marriage?” her grandmother asked after a moment.
“No!” Ruth nearly choked getting out her denial. “Paul and me? No, of course not. I promise you the subject has never even come up.” They hadn’t written about kissing or touching or exchanged the conventional romantic endearments. That didn’t mean she hadn’t dreamed about what it would be like to be held by Paul Gordon. To kiss him and be caressed by him. She’d let her imagination roam free….
“So you say,” her grandmother said with amusement in her voice. “By all means, bring your friend. I’ll look forward to meeting him.”
That was no doubt true, Ruth thought, but no one looked forward to meeting Paul Gordon more than she did.