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Where even to begin? His failings or hers? One had begat the other, he supposed.
“The easy answer is that my wife left me. She had an affair with the handyman who was working on our house. But…” He let out a breath. “The long answer is, I wasn’t very good at marriage.” He winced at how he’d phrased it, because that made him sound like some philandering jerk, and he may have been many things, but he hadn’t been that. “I was very young when I got married. Twenty-two, and I wasn’t much good with the emotional stuff. I think it had to do with the way my mother was… she could be incredibly volatile, her emotions up and down in a matter of seconds. My way of dealing with that was to shut down, in a way. I became remote, at least when things got intense. Emotionally unavailable, was how my ex-wife put it, and I came to realize she had a point.” Because emotion, intensity, had scared him. Still did, which maybe was why he liked Abby—because, like him, she was contained. He kept it light and she kept it back. They were surprisingly similar, even if they showed it in different ways.
“You were emotionally unavailable?” Abby’s eyebrows rose. “Because, I have to say, you certainly seem pretty in touch with your emotions now.”
Simon gave a soft huff of laughter. “On the surface, maybe. But, yes, I do hope I’ve learned something from everything that happened.”
“I feel like I’m the emotionally unavailable one,” she said, meaning it, Simon thought, as
a bit of a joke, but it made them sound like a couple and he could tell she realized that as she looked away quickly.
“Maybe that’s why I’m attracted to you,” he returned before he had time to think it through.
Abby jerked back to face him, her eyes widening, and belatedly Simon realized what he’d said. He’d been following the train of his thoughts without meaning to verbalize it out loud.
“That was not the best time to say that,” he admitted in a slightly strangled voice.
“You’re blushing.”
He forced a laugh. “I’m embarrassed.” Here he was, talking about the breakdown of his marriage, his failure as a husband, and he’d just told this lovely woman that he was attracted to her. Really smooth. Really great timing.
Abby simply stared at him, and recklessly deciding he might as well go the distance, Simon leaned forward and kissed her.
ABBY
The feel of Simon’s lips on hers, cool and soft, was the equivalent of putting her finger in an electric socket and having no idea what might happen. Every sense suddenly sprang to buzzing, panicked life. Where did that come from? Lips on lips, so close. She’d forgotten what it felt like.
Abby hadn’t been kissed for two years. She’d gone through most of her twenties with barely a smack or a buss, and actually it had been okay. Mostly. Yes, she’d had some yearning and loneliness like any normal woman, but she’d kept herself busy with the orchard and the shop and keeping the home front going. She hadn’t wanted the emotional mess of a romantic relationship.
But now she resented the yawning lack of experience, the emotional emptiness of an entire decade, when she felt as if she had to remember how to kiss by reading an instruction manual, her brain telling her body what to do.
Eyes, close. Lips, open, but not too wide. But she didn’t want to breathe into his mouth, that would be gross, surely. What if she passed out from holding her breath? How did she do this?
And then, suddenly, she remembered; it was really just like riding a bike, except a thousand times nicer.
Simon’s hand cupped her cheek and she leaned into him as his lips moved gently over hers and her eyes fluttered closed and it felt entirely natural and right.
It lasted a couple of seconds, if that, and then it was over.
Simon eased back with a self-conscious smile and worried eyes. Abby’s breath came out in a rush; she’d been holding it after all.
“Well, then.” His gaze moved over her face, as if checking for injuries. Was she okay with the kiss? his slightly anxious expression seemed to be asking. Yes, Abby realized, she was, even though she had no idea what it meant, if anything. It had just been a kiss, after all. “So.” He smiled, seeming content with whatever he saw in her face. “Why would someone give up a Distinguished Service Cross… unless he’d died?”
Abby had the urge to shake her head to clear it. They were talking about Matthew Lawson again, but she was still reliving those three seconds of wonder. But surely it was better to move on… the last thing either of them wanted was an analysis of what had just happened.
“Do you think he died?” she asked, doing her best to seem normal, as if a simple little kiss hadn’t blown her world apart, which it shouldn’t have.
Simon considered her question for a moment. “We could look it up, I think. They have a registry online for DSCs, like they do for the Purple Heart.”
“So we could find out?”
“It depends on how much is recorded. Usually there’s at least some reference to what the Cross was awarded for, as well as birth and death dates of the recipient.”
Abby hesitated, wondering again how her father would feel about any of this, and then she nodded. This wasn’t even about Tom Reese anymore; it was about the mysterious Matthew Lawson, whom her dad most likely had never heard about. It was about a mystery that was drawing her and Simon together, never mind what her father thought. She didn’t need to think about him now. She didn’t want to. “Okay, she said. “Why not?”
Simon slid his phone out of his pocket. It only took a few seconds for a registry of names of DSC recipients, some accompanied by photos, to appear on the phone screen. A minute or so passed as he scrolled through the names, and then he sucked in his breath.
“Here he is.”
