Marisa felt an urge to giggle rising in the pit of her stomach. “You sound manic.”
“Comes from dealing with five-year-olds. Can’t keep their attention for long. Talking rapidly is necessary. You never noticed before?”
“I guess not.”
Julie rolled her eyes. “Call the man. He must be at the motel. Besides, I want to size him up. Protective urges also go with being a teacher.”
And a friend, Marisa thought. But Julie had leavened her mood, and she decided she wouldn’t at all mind hearing Julie’s opinion of Ryker. Right now she herself couldn’t make up her mind about the man. He’d zoomed in from nowhere, and experience with Johnny had taught her that he’d zoom away again just as unexpectedly, and probably without any explanation except he had to return to work. She also wondered if Julie would sense the secretiveness in him, would also feel that Ryker was withholding important information.
Because, honestly, she didn’t quite trust the man, whatever his association with Johnny.
Julie left the food on the counter and got them both some coffee. Sitting at the table with her felt good and familiar. “Call him,” she said more gently. “A second opinion is good and, frankly, I’ve been wondering about him all day. Strangers make me uneasy. So let’s sort it out.”
With an almost leaden hand, Marisa reached for the wall phone and called the motel. One click, and then a voice answered. “Ryker Tremaine.”
“Ryker, it’s Marisa. My friend Julie and I wondered if you want to join us at my house for dinner. Nothing fancy, just chicken casserole.”
Julie grabbed the phone from her hand. “Hi, Ryker, this is Julie. Believe me, my chicken casserole is fancy. Say an hour? We can chat while it cooks. Thanks. Looking forward to it.”
Then Julie hung up the phone.
“Why did you do that?” Marisa demanded. She may have been living in a state of near paralysis for months now, but she was still capable of making a phone call.
“Because,” Julie said frankly, “you sounded like you didn’t want him to come.”
“Maybe I don’t!”
“Too late now.” Julie grinned. “I’m going to get you out of that shell before it hardens into an unbreakable habit. Anyway, I need to start cubing the chicken.”
Marisa’s curiosity overwhelmed her irritation. It always did with Julie. “What did he say? Did he hesitate?”
“No hesitation. Just asked for time to shower since he was out running.”
Marisa’s gaze drifted to the window, still frosty in many places. “In this?”
“The tough get going,” Julie tossed back as she rose and pulled out the cutting board. “Did you exercise today?”
“I forgot.” The realization shocked her. What had happened to the entire day? Had she just sat here brooding for all these hours?
“Bad girl. If you want to ride your exercise bike while I cook, go for it.”
Marisa had a recumbent bike to ride every day. It had become too risky to walk outside with patches of ice scattered everywhere, and the bike was designed so that she could lean back and leave plenty of room for her belly. “No. One day off won’t kill me.”
“Probably not, but you know what the doc said. More exercise means easier labor.”
“Like he knows for sure.”
Julie giggled. “It’s got to be better, and you know it. For bunches of reasons. But you’re right, one day off won’t kill you. Now enjoy your cup of coffee and watch me slave after a long day of sitting in chairs that are way too small for me and listening to piping voices that never quiet down unless I roll out the nap mats.”
However Julie talked about it, Marisa was certain that she loved teaching kindergarten. She’d had a chance to change grades more than once, but she stuck with her five-year-olds.
“Formative years,” Julie had explained once, but Marisa had always believed that Julie got a kick out of the little ones. She also believed that getting them young gave her the best chance to instill a joy in learning. “Not that some other teacher won’t knock it out of them,” she had added wryly. “But I can’t do anything about that. All I can do is give them the best start.”
“Well, they’ve sure lost their interest by the time they get to me,” Marisa had retorted.
“That’s your fault,” Julie had answered. “You should have majored in something besides the classics and dead gods.”
Much to her surprise, Marisa felt her mood elevating. Having dinner with Julie and Ryker might well be enjoyable, especially since Julie never pulled her punches.
But the instant she felt her spirits improve, she felt guilty, and her thoughts tried to return to Johnny and his death. For the first time, it occurred to her that she shouldn’t feel guilty every time she enjoyed something. In her heart of hearts, she knew Johnny wouldn’t have wanted that. She shouldn’t want it, either. Grieving was hard enough without adding guilt to the mix every time she knew a few moments of respite from the loss. Julie was right, fifty years was too long to waste.
So she pushed the guilt down and focused instead on the here and now. Julie been trying to tell her for some time that there was no proper way to grieve, no set of requirements to be met. Her heart had been ripped wide open, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t allow herself to heal.
Locking herself in a permanent purgatory helped no one. It didn’t bring Johnny back, and it wouldn’t be fair to her baby. Time for some stiff upper lip.
“I was thinking it’s time to shop for the baby,” she remarked as Julie began to scoop chicken and vegetables into the casserole.
“I saw the list on the fridge. About time, kiddo. But first we’ll have the shower. Friday evening. Then I can go shopping with you on Saturday. Or if you really want to splurge, we can go to Casper or Denver. It might do you some good to get away.”
Indeed it might. “You’re the best, Julie.”
“I know.” Julie flashed a grin over her shoulder. “The world spins because of me.”
Marisa actually laughed. That made two laughs in one day. Maybe she was improving.
Ryker arrived just as Julie was popping the casserole into the oven and setting a timer. “I’ll get it,” she said when the bell rang. “I want a first view all to myself.”
“Do you want a spear and shield, too?” Marisa tried to joke.
“My tongue can take care of all that. Just relax.”
Marisa listened to the greetings at the door and thought it all sounded pleasant enough. Julie apparently gave Ryker time to doff his jacket and gloves in the hall, then the two of them returned to the kitchen. She didn’t feel tension between them, but somehow she didn’t think that would last. She knew Julie too well.
Once they were all seated around the wooden table, Julie plunged right into the inquisition. “So what took you so long to get here?”
Ryker arched one brow. “Meaning?”
“Well, the funeral was nearly six months ago. Most planes are faster than that.”
Marisa battled an urge to quell Julie, realizing that she needed to hear some of this, too. And count on Julie to address it baldly.
Ryker rested his arms on the table. He wore a gray Yale sweatshirt that looked as if it had seen