“And this time,” Valerie continued, “I want to give my letter to one of the men on theChenanext time she comes in. Angie thought it would be Friday, but that’s a holiday. Do you know?”
Jeremy sat up straight, suddenly animated. “They’re coming for sure on Friday. I could deliver the letter if you like. I know the cook. His name is Marcus, and he’s trustworthy.”
Valerie committed that name to memory. “I’d take you up on that, but I haven’t written the letter yet. I’ll probably ask Blaine to take me, because this time I want to hand deliver it myself and make sure it leaves town.”
Jeremy looked across at little Cameron, sleeping soundly in the cradle. “I hope you can finally reach him with that letter, and I hope he’s worthy of you. No woman should be with a man who doesn’t treat her right.” Jeremy sat back. “I wish I could convince Angie of that. If I could have it my way, I’d take her away from here, and I’d treat her like gold. I’d be a good father to her baby, and I’d never look at another woman. Not ever. Why would I? If I was married to Angie ...” He stopped himself and shook his head. “I just don’t understand Joe Brown. As far as I’m concerned, he’s a bonehead who doesn’t know how lucky he is.”
Valerie watched Jeremy for a moment and realized she had misjudged him the first time she’d met him. It was no wonder Angie refused to give up his friendship, even though it made things worse with Joe.
Valerie let out a sigh and turned her eyes toward Cameron.
What she wouldn’t give for her and Cameron to be loved like that.
CHAPTER 21
March 27, 1964
Jeremy steered his skiff around the stern of the supply shipChena. The city dock was buzzing with locals, delivery trucks, and forklifts on the go, but Jeremy wasn’t there to watch the unloading. He was searching for Angie.
He motored into the small-boat harbor and found a spot to tie up. Having secured his boat, he stepped onto the floating dock and started walking.
Head down, he passed the Village Morgue Bar and cast his mind back to the night of Carol Brown’s fiftieth-birthday party when he’d heard Angie crying on the bench. How pretty she’d looked in her party dress, but she had been miserable and shivering in the cold, tears streaming down her face. The sound of her weeping had broken him apart. It made him remember all the times she and her mother had welcomed him into their warm, happy home after a nasty fight in his own dysfunctional one. Angie’s mother must have kept a watchful eye on her backyard, because that was where he would run and hide whenever his father pulled out the strap. Jeremy would sneak behind her white snowberry hedge, and suddenly she would appear, as if by magic. Shewould offer comfort, a hug, and a glass of milk in her kitchen—which always smelled like cookies baking.
That was how Jeremy learned what love was supposed to look like. And he would never, ever take it for granted.
If not for Mrs.Hennessy, Jeremy might have grown up believing that all families were like his—that all grown men had scary tempers and enjoyed belittling others and that children feared their parents and hid in closets. He might have become a different person. Sure, he still had his problems. He had a hard time trusting people until they proved they were good hearted, and if they were, his loyalty knew no bounds. If they proved otherwise, good luck to them. He would treat them accordingly.
He paused and perused the end of the dock. At last, there she was. Sweet, lovely Angie, in a bright-red wool coat with a white scarf—a striking vision in a sea of longshoremen dressed in dull grays and faded browns. She was pushing her baby carriage from the end of the dock, where theChenawas tied up and unloading. She waved at him from a distance. Immediately, he began walking faster, in long sure strides toward her.
He reached the corner of one of the warehouses, and his knees nearly gave out under him when she smiled and said, “Hi, Jeremy.” Her blue eyes glimmered, and she radiated a charm he’d never seen in her before.It must be new motherhood,he decided as she looked down at her baby and pulled the canopy back.
“I was hoping I’d run into you today,” Angie said. “I’ve been dying for you to meet this little man.”
Jeremy bent to look at the sleeping infant tucked warmly under a heavy red-and-white-checkered quilt. Angie drew the blanket back to reveal his face, cute and pudgy.
“He’s wonderful,” Jeremy said and met Angie’s gaze. “How was it? Did it hurt much?”
“It hurt a lot,” she replied, “but it was worth every second. I love him so much.” She tucked Ethan back in and stood behind the carriage, both hands gripping the handle.
“What about you?” she asked. “How have you been?”
“I’ve been okay,” he replied, shrugging.
“I heard you spent a few nights at the Wilsons’ place last month. Valerie told me.”
“That’s right. I helped Mr.Wilson chop some wood.”
“She said you played cards—and you won every hand.”
“Lucky, I guess.”
Angie looked toward the cannery dock, which ran parallel to the city dock. “Valerie said you caught a rabbit.”
“I did. Maud used the meat for a stew.”
Angie couldn’t seem to look at him. Her eyes swung in every direction, except in his.
“Is everything okay?” His head dipped to try and catch her wandering gaze.
