The Major's Wife (Jubilant Falls series Book 2) Read Free Page A

good?" Her agitation increased.
    "Either one—you can choose."
    "Fine. You can pick me up at eight o'clock."
    "So the pilot never called back, huh?"
    She slammed the phone down, disconnecting us with a loud click. She was right; she couldn't live with anyone more sarcastic than she was.
    She stayed all night. It was so good to hold her. I whispered, "I love you," into her red hair all night long. Kay held me tightly, but was silent.
    In the morning, I woke before she did. I had converted the apartment’s other bedroom to a study and bought myself an old Underwood typewriter. I still held grand delusions then, forcing myself to spit out three pages a day on a novel that would later go up in smoke one drunk and sodden night. Like everything else in my life, it, too, would fail. But I didn't know that at the time. Dreaming of greatness and Papa Hemingway, I persisted.
    Before long, Kay entered, that morning’s Journal-Gazette under her arm and a cup of coffee in her hands. I was too involved with my characters to do more than look up and smile. We sat silently, as the room filled with the typewriter's metallic clamor.
    "Do you want some coffee?" she asked, after a while.
    "Sure." Without looking up, I handed her my mug.
    I don't know how long she was gone. My story had gotten away from me and a bad case of writer's euphoria was setting in, that wonderful high that must have prompted Thomas Wolfe to march down the street one evening, chanting ‘I wrote ten thousand words today, I wrote ten thousand words.’ I remember hearing Kay swear as the coffee pot shattered into the sink. The back door slammed, and, before I could catch her, she was gone.
    For two weeks, I tried to call, but she was too busy to talk at work, or her answering machine was always on at home. I knocked on the door, but she never answered. What the hell happened?
    When I finally nailed her down at work, I could see the wild, blue yonder in her eyes. She had fallen in love. Every sentence was Bear does this and Paul says that.
    I said something about hairy backs and palms.
    She showed me to the door.
    It was six months before I saw her again, accidentally meeting her on the street.
    "So, how are you and the colonel doing?" I asked.
    "He's not a colonel, he's a captain," she laughed, but there was an edge to her voice. I pushed a little harder.
    "I'm sorry," I drawled sarcastically. "How are you and Steve Canyon getting on?"
    "Stop it."
    I changed the subject. A few sentences later, we said goodbye. I walked away feeling as though my intestines were falling out onto the sidewalk.
    In another few months, I received an engraved wedding invitation. No personal note, no phone calls the night they set the date. I thought I meant more to her than that. I declined to attend, on the grounds that I refused to play the old boyfriend at weddings. I spent the afternoon of the ceremony with my head cradled in my arms atop the Underwood. I had really lost her.
    Now, seven years later, she was back. I wouldn't lose her this time.
    * * *
    Jess ran the story on Monday. When Kay's secretary put me right through to her office, I knew she liked it.
    "Marcus, I loved it! You haven't lost your touch."
    "Thank you. How about lunch at the Colonial Café? We can celebrate my journalistic expertise and your new job." I bounced my pencil nervously against my desk blotter calendar.
    The Colonial was the basement restaurant in Jubilant Falls' only department store, Hawk's, on North Detroit Street. It was shadowy and overpriced, like most of the legal community who dined there daily, mainly because of its proximity to the courthouse across the street.
    "Oh, today is pretty full, but I think tomorrow is open," Kay hesitated, and then rushed on. "Let me check my schedule and see. I'll have Barbara call you."
    "Don't do that. This is friendship, not business."
    "You're right. Tomorrow, then?"
    "Yes. See you then."
    The following day was filled with rain, a hard, driving downpour that brought