Crystal Cove (Friday Harbor #4)(40)

His mouth twitched. “How do you feel?”

“Fine. Great.” Justine sounded breathless. Her gaze took a swift, nervous inventory of him. “How about you?”

“Hungry.”

She motioned in the direction of the kitchen, nearly knocking over a candlestick. “Dinner’s almost ready. Those clothes are great on you.” She hitched up the side of the sweater again.

“How do you feel?”

“Better since you put me on a defrost cycle.” Her color deepened. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t mind thawing you out,” Jason said, reaching out to stroke his fingers through a few of the wavy, shiny locks of her hair. Gently he tugged the sweater down her shoulder, caressing the silky exposed curve with his palm. He heard her breath change. He thought about the things he wanted to do to her, all the ways he wanted to penetrate, pleasure, possess her. And he forced himself to let go of her while he was still able. Justine wandered into the kitchen, seeming dazed, while Jason went to the front door and opened it.

Standing in a blast of cold air, he tried to create a peaceful scene in his mind … an Alaskan glacier, a snow-topped mountain. When that didn’t work, he thought about foreign debt crises. Piranhas. Oompa-Loompas. When that didn’t work, he began to list prime numbers in his head, backward from one thousand. By the time he reached 613, he was able to return to the keeping room.

Justine was setting bowls of vegetable soup on the table. She glanced at him, her cheeks pink.

“Can I do something?” he asked.

Rosemary replied as she carried baskets of bread from the kitchen. “All taken care of. Have a seat, please.”

He went to help Rosemary and Sage into their chairs, and took a seat next to Justine.

Rosemary blessed the meal, praising the earth for growing the food they were about to enjoy, thanking the sun for nourishing it, the rain for quenching its thirst, and so forth.

“Jason,” Sage invited when the blessing was finished, “tell us about your foreign relatives. I find that so intriguing. Were both your grandparents Japanese?”

“No, my grandfather was an American serviceman, stationed at Naha Port—a logistical base in Okinawa—during Vietnam. He married my grandmother against her family’s wishes. Not long afterward he was killed in action, but by then my grandmother was pregnant with my mother.”

Justine passed a basket of bread to him. “How did your mother end up in America?”

“She visited Sacramento when she was a teenager, to get to know some of her American relatives. She ended up staying here for good.”

“Why didn’t she go back?”

“I think she wanted the chance to live independently for a while. In Okinawa, her family had kept a close eye on her, and they all lived under one roof: my grandmother and assorted aunts, uncles, and cousins.”

“Heavens to Hecate,” Rosemary exclaimed, “how large was the house?”

“About three thousand square feet. But it allowed a lot more room than the American equivalent. Not much furniture, and no clutter. The interior could be made into different rooms with all these sliding paper doors. So when it was time to go to sleep, everyone laid their futons on the floor and pulled the doors shut.”

“How could you stand the lack of privacy?” Justine asked.

“I learned that a sense of privacy doesn’t have to depend on walls and doors. At least not external ones. Two people could sit in a room and read or work separately without ever breaking the silence. It’s an ability to put up walls in your mind, so no one can get through.”

“And you’re good at that, aren’t you?” Justine asked.

Relishing the challenge she presented, he gave her a level stare. “Aren’t you?” he countered.

Her gaze was the first to fall.

Jason turned the conversation to Sage, asking what life had been like on Cauldron Island when she’d first moved there. She described the years she had been employed as the island schoolteacher, with approximately a half dozen students. They had all met every morning at a one-room schoolhouse at Crystal Cove, not far from the lighthouse. Now the only families who lived there were retirees or part-timers, so the school had been closed.

“We still use the schoolhouse from time to time,” Sage volunteered. “The building is in perfect condition.”

“What do you use it for?” Jason asked, and felt Justine’s toes in a warning nudge against his ankle.

“Social gatherings,” Rosemary said briskly. “Are you enjoying your dinner, Jason?”

“It’s terrific,” he said. The soup was hearty and fresh-tasting, made with potatoes, kale, corn, tomatoes, and herbs. Honey-sweetened Dark Mother bread was served with homemade apple butter and slabs of local white cheese.

Dessert consisted of an eggless breadcrumb cake sweetened with molasses and dried fruit. According to Sage, the recipe was from the Depression era, a time when eggs and milk hadn’t always been available.

The elderly women were like an old married couple, reminiscing about their life on the island. They told stories about Justine as a child, such as the time she had been so determined to have a surprise birthday party for herself that she had planned it out and given Rosemary and Sage meticulous instructions. They had thrown it for her, of course, and had called it Justine’s unsurprise party.