Molly - Sarah Monzon Page 0,33
in officer housing on the base, they had to meet me outside the gate and drive me in. Either that or I had to go through the rigorous vetting process every time with at least seventy hours’ advance notice. No thank you.
I turned off the car and twisted to reach into the back seat. Seemed my little Volkswagen had turned into a catch-all the last few days. Fish shaped cheese crackers littered the floor like a marine apocalypse had occurred and left a wave of death and destruction. A catch-all and a trash can. How could little people make such big messes?
I grabbed the Pyrex, my purse, and my laptop case. No point in tempting anyone to break in to steal it. Not that bakeries topped the height of the crime scene, especially ones so close to a military installation, but why press my luck?
As I slung the long strap of my laptop messenger bag over my shoulder, thoughts of the paper I’d been writing entered my head. And as thoughts of the Dr. Seuss paper emerged, reflections on Ben’s invitation to a field trip to La Jolla arose. And as the reflections of La Jolla appeared, so did the memory of the connection we shared as he confided in me about his deceased wife.
My thought pattern resembled If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, and that, of course, triggered a flush of warmth and a craving for Oreos.
Mom’s text and lunch date couldn’t have come at a better time. Without a distraction, I would’ve been reliving those moments this morning for the rest of the day. When I’d noticed him sitting in his car in the driveway, I’d started to worry. People took extra minutes in their car whenever they were either trying to compose themselves or, as I’d recently discovered, relishing the last moment of peace and quiet before entering a fray of constant noise. Maybe some people pumped themselves up behind the steering wheel if they had to get out and face something.
Whatever the reason, I’d taken a closer look and noticed he’d been crying. Side note: real men cry, and I’d get Betsy to throat punch anyone who said guys shouldn’t.
The track of tears along Ben’s temple had caused my heart to clench. But then he’d told me about his wife, and the ache in my chest made breathing difficult. When he’d gotten close and wiped away my own tear, I’d nearly leaned forward and pressed my lips against his.
Good thing he’d jumped back. I could dream about a kiss between us, but the actual thing could lead to a sticky mess. The wariness that had entered his eyes when he’d put distance between us however…
He’d looked at me as if I had the power to burn him. Didn’t he know causing him more pain was the last thing I wanted to do? Besides, the way my mind kept drifting to him these days, ruminating on his goodness and selflessness—not to mention the way my body felt like it had been zapped by a defibrillator whenever he was near—all pointed to the power to scald being in Ben’s hands rather than mine. I’d have to be more careful to put oven mitts around my heart where he was concerned.
I shook my head at that horrible analogy, thankful to spot Mom already at a table by the window. She could distract me and get me out of my own head.
She stood, looking stylish in a pair of black, high-waisted slacks and a silk top that tied in a loose bow near her collar bone. Always the professional, she forever insisted on being “put together” as befitting an officer’s wife. We hugged, then she took her glass baking dish from my hands and pushed it to the end of the table out of the way.
“I ordered you the broccoli and cheese soup in a bread bowl. I hope that’s okay.” She handed me a see-through plastic cup with orange liquid inside. “And a blood orange lemonade.”
“Thanks.”
An employee came at that moment and traded the folded number on the table for our soups.
“So how are things with you and Dad?” I dipped my spoon into the thick, hearty soup, steam rising into my face.
“Busy as usual. The USS Rushmore went underway last month, so my Ombudsman duties have tripled.” Mom pushed her wavy blonde hair out of her face with a pale pink fingertip. Twenty plus years of military life hadn’t detracted from her natural beauty, although there were