I opened the door and walked into the comfortably dim light of the bar. Taking my usual seat near the end, I waited for Dottie to wander over and chat for a while, like she always did. When she finally came over to take my order, her usual welcoming smile was nowhere to be seen. Her face was more pale than normal except for her nose and eyes which were bright red. Before I could decide if she had a cold or had been crying, another woman came hurrying in the door.
The brunette burst in with a flash of bright sunlight from the door. "Dottie, sorry it took me so long but I'm here now. Are you sure you're ok to drive?"
Before the brunette had even set her purse behind the counter, Dottie had grabbed hers and her jacket and was walking out the door. "Yeah, I'm fine. I really appreciate you coming in today, Rach. I thought I could handle it but..." Her voice broke and she swiped a tear from her cheek impatiently.
"No problem. You go do what you need to do and forget all about this place for a little while. We'll be fine," the brunette replied to Dottie's back as she walked out the door.
As soon as she'd tied an apron around her waist, the new face walked down toward me. "Hi, I'm Rachel. What can I get for you?"
"What's wrong with Dottie?" I heard myself ask.
"It's June 11th," she replied, as if that answered everything.
When she saw my blank look, she elaborated. "Sorry, I thought everyone knew. Today is the day that her husband and child died ten years ago."
"My God." It hit me how little I really knew about this woman I'd been spilling my guts to. "How did it happen?"
"Car wreck. Some teenager in a stolen car hit them head on right after Travis had picked up Neely from school." Rachel cocked her head to the side as she watched me closely. "Mister, are you ok?"
I realized quickly that I wasn't. "No, I um... thank you." Grabbing my cover, I headed for the door, hoping I was fast enough.
Luck was with me as I saw Dottie's sedan pull out of the parking lot. I quickly got in my truck and followed her. I wasn't sure what I planned to do or why I was doing this at all. I knew she probably needed her space, but I needed to be nearby, just in case she needed me. A large part of my brain was telling me that she wouldn't need me, she didn't even know I was around, but a small corner, the part that had kept me alive in Viet Nam, was telling me to stick close to her. I made it a habit to listen to that part whenever possible.
After about fifteen minutes of driving, she pulled into a grocery store parking lot. I considered following her inside, but I just sat in the truck and watched for her. A few minutes later, she came out with a small bouquet of pink roses and climbed back into the car. Her next stop was at the nearby cemetery. I pulled up behind her, but she didn't notice as she got out carrying the flowers. I waited as she approached a tombstone a few yards from her car. She gently laid the roses down in front of the tombstone and knelt down. I saw her trace the writing with her fingers, and had to turn away. I was starting to feel like I was intruding on her grief, which I suppose I was, but I couldn't play the voyeur any longer. I got out of the truck and eased the door shut. She didn't hear me approach, so I stopped two headstones over and cleared my throat. Startled, she looked up at me, swiping her tears away again. That fierce determination to hide her vulnerability touched me much more deeply than I'd thought it would, and I realized that I wanted her to feel free to open up to me. That thought surprised me so much that I almost didn't hear her when she spoke.
"What are you doing here?" her voice was defensive so I knew I'd have to read lightly.
"I, um, I knew you were upset, so I followed you to make sure you were ok."
"Dammit. Rachel told you, didn't she?"
I nodded.
"She had no right. No Right, Dammit!" She gave up on keeping up with the tears now. They were falling faster than she could wipe them away.
Part of me wanted to reach out and hold her, and another wanted to turn and run. I've faced the Viet Cong, terrorists, Mafia gunmen, kidnappers, presidential inquiries, and the SecNav in a bad mood, but nothing gave me the jitters like a crying woman. Forcing myself to stand my ground, I tried just once. "Do you want me to go?"
"Yes. No. God, I don't know, AJ." The way her voice cracked at the end told me I was a goner.
In three steps I was beside her, then I was kneeling with her on the dry sun-baked grass, my arm around her shoulders as she sobbed into my chest. I tried not to think about how good her arms felt wrapped around me, holding her soft body close to mine. I couldn't stop my free hand from gently brushing her dark auburn hair away from her face, then continuing to run my fingers through the soft waves, watching the few silver strands catch the afternoon light. I whispered what I hoped were comforting words to her, but I couldn't even swear as to what exactly I said.
After a few minutes her sobs subsided and she pulled back from my embrace. I found myself reluctant to let her go. Her eyes, even though red and swollen, caught my attention. I'd never noticed before that there was a band of dark green surrounding the brown of her irises. Thinking back, I realized that her eyes seemed to change color from brown to green depending on her mood.
I handed her a handkerchief and she took it with a watery smile. "I didn't know men still carried these."
I just shrugged, no knowing what to say. She finished wiping her eyes and nose and tucked the handkerchief in her pocket. "I'll get this back to you."
"There's no hurry." Well, as Tiner would say, that was lame. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Dottie shook her head. "Not yet. Come on, let's get out of here. My knees are too old for this."
I stood and took her hand to help her to her feet. "Come on, Dottie. You're younger than I am."
"But you're in better shape than I am." The certainty in her voice spoke of previous inspection. I assured myself that she was simply an observant woman who paid attention to all of her customers. As I escorted her back to her car she walked slightly ahead of me, giving me the chance for a little inspection of my own. What I saw surprised me. Just how old was I getting that I hadn't noticed the way she looked until today? Damn, I must be slipping. The memory of her in my arms moments before came back to me and the combination of that and the long legs encased by her jeans gave me a good idea as to what exactly she kept hidden behind all those baggy sweatshirts she wore.
By then we'd reached her car, and she got in. "I'm going home, AJ."
Before I knew it, I heard myself asking, "Do you want company?"
Her eyes warmed as she smiled. "Yes, I think I'd like that very much. Why don't you follow me?"
As I drove behind her for the short trip to her house, I had trouble keeping my mind on the traffic. Visions of those changeable brown eyes kept swimming into my vision. Dancing with laughing green lights as she listened to a joke from a patron in the bar, soft and brimming with compassion as she listened to my problems with Bud, then dark brown and full of pain and grief as she mourned her family. There was a lot I didn't know about this woman, but at least I'd finally recognized that I wanted to know more.