Seal With a Kiss (8 page)

When he put it like that, Violet thought it sounded
almost reasonable. And tempting. She wavered until
she looked into his eyes and saw shadows of the
years that stood between them. She shook her head.
"I think I've had about as much `old times' sake' as
I can stand for one day." She gestured around the
park. "This was fun, but I think I'm ready to hit the
road rather than play another game of `Remember
When?' "

He was quiet a moment, sipping his soda. Then he
said, "What do you remember, Vi? You said something earlier that's been bothering me. Did you really
think I wanted a family more than I wanted you?"

Okaaay. It seemed that he wanted to rehash history
after all. Violet had a quick, insane urge to avoid the
whole discussion by chucking the nachos in his lap
and bolting for the park entrance.

Frankly, the only thing stopping her was the fact
that she had nowhere to go but back to Dolphin
Friendly, and Smitty was bound to turn up there
sooner or later. Besides, there had been times in her
life when she would have killed to have had this
conversation.

Ten years and one ex-wife ago, she would have
given anything to understand why he'd left her the moment he realized that she seriously wanted to wait
to get married and have children. Eight years ago
when she'd returned to Dolphin Friendly, she would
have paid money to understand why he'd barely acknowledged her presence, let alone why he hadn't
tried to pick up where they'd left off.

But now? Now it felt like the time for explanations
was past. They'd done what they'd done and it was
time to live with it and move on.

So she shrugged. "Don't worry about it, Smits. It's
ancient history and we got beyond it a long, long
time ago."

"Did we?" He leaned forward, his blue eyes intent.
She remembered how she used to think those eyes
were like the Caribbean, clear and deep at the same
time. Now they were just eyes, she told herself. He
was just Smitty. "Or is all the arguing we've been
doing for the last few years just our way of not
having this conversation?"

Violet sat back, stung. "No. I argue with you because you're wrong. There's nothing more sinister
about it than that." She sipped her soda and cursed
the quiver she felt in her lower lip.

It seemed that Smitty wanted things to change after all. Their pranks and spats energized her. Entertained her. Made her feel like someone on that boat
noticed her when Brody and Maddy were so wrapped up in each other that the world seemed to begin and
end with them.

"I like fighting with you," she said in a low voice,
hating to admit even that much to him.

Smitty leaned back in his chair and smiled crookedly. She saw the little chip on his front tooth where
he'd smacked into the wheelhouse one time when
Streaker was being tossed about by angry seas.

He'd been trying to reach her, Violet remembered,
because she'd just rejoined the boat after her sojourn
in Puget Sound and was reveling in the heave of the
open ocean. She'd insisted on clinging to the forward
rail while Streaker jolted from wave to wave. Smitty
had brought her a life vest and a line he'd tied to one
of the docking cleats. If she was going overboard,
he'd said, he wanted to have a way to haul her back
onto the boat. It wasn't the first time he'd looked
after her that way, and it certainly hadn't been the
last. Even when their fights were at their most bitter,
they'd looked after each other.

And in the end, wasn't that what friends were for?

Smitty saw the look in her eyes change, and wasn't
sure whether he should be relieved or terrified. One
of the things that had always fascinated him about
Violet was her ability to change moods so quickly,
so completely that he was left behind in her wake. He'd once heard an ancient Asian proverb, or maybe
it was a curse, he couldn't remember. It said, May
you live in interesting times. He'd always thought in
Violet's case it should've been, May you love an interesting woman.

Again, he wasn't sure whether it would be a proverb or a curse. Because he had loved Violet. Still
did, in an old-flame-turned-best-friend sort of way.
And Brody was right. She wasn't happy. Though her
eyes now reflected a tolerant sort of fondness, on an
overall, day-to-day basis, Violet wasn't happy.

Once, Smitty might have guessed it was because
of his marriage to Ellen. But if that were the reason
for her unhappiness, she would want to talk about it
now, wouldn't she? It was just the two of them. What
better time for a conversation that was arguably a
decade late? Though he wasn't sure he could excuse
all his actions back then, he'd sure like to try. Anything to hear her laugh for real again.

But she didn't want to talk about Ellen. Ergo, her
unhappiness came from another source. Brody. And
her relationship with Brody was the last thing Smitty
wanted to talk about. The subject still made him a
little raw. He didn't like to think of his two best
friends together. Didn't like to think of her pining for
the relationship.

But Violet was special to him, and if she was hurting, then he was too. He could handle this.

So he took a deep breath. Stalled. Choked down a
cold nacho. Made a face and said, "It's not that I
mind fighting with you, Vi. But Brody's got a point
that it's all we do anymore. We used to get along
better than this. You started to say something in the
river and I interrupted you. So tell me now. What's
wrong, are you upset about Brody and Maddy getting
married?"

"Brody and Maddy?" She tilted her head, considering, and Smitty began to hope that she wasn't still
carrying a torch for the third member of their
Musketeer-like group. But his spirits sank again
when she said, "I guess that's a big part of it."

He swallowed. Okay. He could do this. He could
be the supportive friend if it killed him.

"I know you and he used to be ... close." He
sucked a mouthful of soda and forged on. "But he
and Maddy are together now. They love each other."

Violet shrugged and relaxed. "No kidding. That's
the prob-" She broke off. Narrowed her eyes at
him. "You're not implying that I ... That Brody and
I...." She sat back with a look of part annoyance,
part amusement crossing her face. "You are! You
think that I'm upset because-Gargk!" Her words
were muffled when a stream of water hit her full in
the face.

There was a childish giggle from the next table
over.

"Violet, what-Glurk!" Smitty turned just in time
to catch a mouthful of chlorinated water himself. The
next volley flooded the dish with the leftover nachos
and splashed Violet's chest.

A small, demonic-looking child at the next table
held a mega-soaker in his hands and laughed gleefully as he hosed down their table, their towels, and
what was left of their snack.

"Brian Patrick, you stop that this instant!" Rescue
appeared in the form of a harried-looking woman
with a toddler in tow. The woman grabbed the
battery-powered squirt gun from her grinning child
and shook her finger. "How many times have I told
you not to point this thing at strangers? What did I
tell you I was going to do the next time it happened?"

The child toed the ground and stared intently at
his feet, but Smitty could see he was far from remorseful.

Violet touched the young mother's arm and gestured at the soaker. The woman grinned and handed
Violet the mega-soaker while keeping her tone stern.
"Now you apologize to these people right now, and
make it good!"

As Smitty watched, little Brian Patrick looked up
and said, "I'm very-Eek!" as Violet squirted him.

Back on Streaker, they kept the mega-squirt cartridges in the refrigerator so the water was extra cold. Smitty had been on the receiving end of several
sneak attacks in the past, and could only smile and
watch as Violet tousled the boy's hair and handed
the squirt gun back to the child.

But then an unexpected lump backed up in his
throat.

Somewhere along the line, he'd forgotten how
good Violet was with kids. How had he forgotten that
she loved kids? Maybe, he mused, it had happened
the moment she'd rejected the idea of bearing his
children and providing him with a family.

Then he registered his own thoughts and stilled. A
family. No, that wasn't right. He'd wanted to marry
her because he loved her. He'd told her that, a decade
ago, in a water park just like this one.

Hadn't he?

"My mom says when I do something wrong, I
hafta 'pologize," the kid piped up, not looking very
contrite. He grinned from Smitty to Violet. "Sorry,
mister. Sorry, lady."

"No problem, kid. Just watch where you point that
thing, and listen to your mom, okay? She seems like
a wise lady." Violet waved to him and then turned
back to Smitty. "You about ready to go?"

But the boy's words rattled in his head. When I do
something wrong, I have to apologize.

He was beginning to think he'd done something very, very wrong ten years earlier. He took her hand.
"I'm sorry, Vi. I never meant to hurt you back then.
I hope you'll believe it. I truly am sorry."

She sobered instantly, caught her breath, and
seemed to lean towards him. The intimacy of their
earlier conversation dropped around them like a
cloak of emotion. "Sorry for what exactly?"

He cast back through the years for the day that it
had all gone wrong for them. The day that had
spelled the end of their grad school romance. The
day at the water park when he'd asked her to marry
him and she'd turned him down. He said, "I'm sorry
I made you think that I wanted a family more than I
wanted you."

Her mouth twisted in a frown and she drew back.
"Don't apologize for what I thought, Smitty. Apologize for what you did. I loved you and you didn't
wait for me." She pulled her hand away. "I needed
you like I needed my next breath back then. Foolish
of me, wasn't it?"

She turned away and gathered their trash with restless hands. He had to stop himself from grabbing her
and shaking her until her teeth rattled. It made no
sense. "Then why did you turn me down? I wanted
to marry you, for heaven's sake."

"You wanted to get married. There's a difference."
She pitched their garbage into a barrel and draped
her towel over her shoulders.

"What does that mean?" he snapped, feeling irritation and confusion jumble together in his stomach.
"I loved you. I wanted to marry you, have a family
with you. Why is that so wrong?"

She spun on him, and Smitty was surprised to see
a suspicious glimmer in her eyes.

It must be a trick of the light. Violet never cried.
He was sure of it.

Jabbing a finger into his chest, she said, "If you
were so all-fired in love with me, then why'd you
turn around and marry Ellen not a month later?" Her
voice cracked.

"Ellen?" he practically bellowed, then lowered his
voice when he realized they were attracting attention
in the water park cafe. He hissed, "What does this
have to do with Ellen? I didn't start seeing her until
after we broke up. How is this her fault?"

"It's not her fault, and we didn't break up." Violet
grabbed her towel and reached down to unfasten the
locker key from its ankle strap. "You left me."

"Because you didn't want to marry me," he countered, feeling utterly lost. What was he missing here?

"I never said I didn't want to marry you." She had
her back to him now, and her words were muffled.

Smitty shook his head in bafflement. "Sure you
did. Well, first you gave me that line about only
having been away from home for a few months, and having our whole lives in front of us, and how we
should wait until after we graduated . . ." He trailed
off, because suddenly it didn't sound like as much
of a pile of tuna as it had when he was twentysomething and a confused mess of hormones and
loneliness.

"It wasn't a line, idiot." Her voice cracked again
and she still wouldn't face him. "It was the truth."

He tried to dredge up some of the anger he'd carried towards her for so long. "But if you wanted to
marry me eventually, what difference would a few
months or years have made?"

He could see the top of her head nod. "Exactly.
What difference would a little time have made? Not
one bit, if you'd wanted me. But you'd just lost your
mother. You were alone in the world and you wanted
to put down roots. You wanted an instant family and
I wasn't ready to be that for you."

Violet had obviously thought this through just as
much as he had. Too bad they'd come to opposite
conclusions.

"If you'd loved me, then you would've believed
that a few months either way wouldn't matter. You
would've married me," he said. He'd told himself the
words so many times they even sounded true now.

She shook her head and there were tears in her
eyes, he was sure of it now. "If you'd loved me, you would've waited until I was ready to marry you. But
you didn't." She sniffed. "You married an organic
pig farmer named Ellen instead."

He put a hand on her back. Her shoulders shook.
"Violet...."

She sniffed, and he broke. "Aw, Vi. I'm so sorry."
He gathered her into his arms, not sure whether she'd
cry or punch him. This new, emotional Violet was a
stranger to him.

She held herself stiff for a moment, then sagged
against him. Her arms crept around his waist and she
sighed. "God, Smits. We should've had this conversation years ago. Does it sound as stupid to you as
it does to me now? Quibbling over months when it's
obvious neither of us wanted to get married to the
other? You're right. If we had, the timing wouldn't
have mattered one way or the other."

Though he wasn't sure he agreed-he'd wanted to
marry her, darn it-Smitty dropped his cheek to her
hair and held her.

He'd forgotten how good it felt. How perfectly
they fit together. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I didn't
do it right."