Page 21 of The Launch

“Oh, my,” Jo says, laughter bubbling out of her. “Hard to avoid the ladies, is it?”

Mr. Dandridge shrugs and peers at her cart. “You’d be surprised. At a certain age, the women outnumber the men, and they start competing for our affections. You wouldn’t understand yet, my girl. For you, the world is still lousy with men.” Doug talks loud, and Jo notices a hearing aid in one ear. “But someday they’ll be dropping like flies, and you and the other ladies will find yourselves putting on lipstick and hanging around the shuffleboard courts, trying to find an old coot with a little spark left in his plug.”

Jo can scarcely imagine herself being old and alone; it seems impossible to fathom, given how little time she has to herself these days. “I’m sorry to hear about your wife,” she says.

“Tell me, Josephine.” Doug sits up slightly and with some effort. “What does this husband who does not jump for joy every time you enter the room do for a living? Is he a busy man?”

Jo pulls a package of peanut butter crackers and a bottle of orange juice from her cart and sets them on Mr. Dandridge’s bedside table. “He’s training to be an astronaut. Before that, he was just Lieutenant Colonel Booker, but now he’s aiming for the stratosphere.”

“A man could do worse,” Mr. Dandridge says, looking impressed. “Kind of beats the hell out of teaching calculus to teenagers as a career.”

“Oh, no, not at all,” Jo promises him. “I think teaching is a wonderful job. Honorable. And you never forget your favorite teachers.”

“That’s true,” Mr. Dandridge muses. “I heard once that being someone’s favorite teacher means you get to live forever. Even when you’re long gone, you’re still in someone’s heart. I thought that was nice.”

“That’s a lovely sentiment.” Jo pulls a selection of books and magazines from her cart that she thinks Mr. Dandridge might like. “Could I interest you in a novel or a magazine?” she offers, handing him a stack ofTimemagazines and two Western novels.

Mr. Dandridge looks at them with disinterest. “Eh,” he says, motioning for Jo to come closer. She steps up to him and leans over the rail of his bed when he waves his hand for her to do so. “You got any romance novels on your cart there, Josephine?” he whispers. “Maybe one where the girl travels to France and meets a rakish gentleman? Falls in love?”

Jo’s eyebrows shoot up, but she turns back to her cart and shuffles through the stack of paperbacks. “How about this one?” She hands him a Harlequin romance calledDoctor in the Tropicswith a blonde nurse on the cover. “It looks like she might get to travel and find love.”

Mr. Dandridge takes the book in his shaky hand and passes back the magazines and Western novels. “I’ll take it,” he says. “And next time you come back I’ll give you a full report on this particular piece of literature.”

Jo laughs as she reorganizes her cart. “Okay, that sounds like a deal to me, Mr. D.”

With a wave, she backs her trolley out of the room and continues down the hall, knocking on doors, introducing herself,and leaving cans of 7UP, little packages of cookies or crackers, and all kinds of reading materials with the patients. She has a great day. At the end of her three-hour shift, her feet are tired, and her cheeks hurt from smiling.

It feels good to do something unexpected. Driving away from Stardust General with a grin on her face, Jo rolls down the car window to let in the hot summer breeze. Florida isn’t exactly home for her yet, but she’s finding things that are hers and taking tentative steps to plant herself in the fertile ground of Stardust Beach. With a little care and watering, maybe her roots will extend into the ground here; maybe they’ll take hold and spread.

Just maybe.

NINE

jo

It’sSunday evening and the kids are in front of the television watchingThe Ed Sullivan Showwhile Jo cleans the kitchen and puts away the pots and pans that she’s just washed by hand.

“I’m glad you’re getting something out of volunteering, Jo, but the kids said Frankie took them to the theater to seeCleopatrathe other day. Do you really think that’s appropriate?” Bill is leaning against the counter with his arms folded across his chest.

“It’s historical,” Jo says defensively as she bends over to slide a heavy pot into a low cabinet. “And it’s Elizabeth Taylor—she’s a great actress.” When Jo stands up and turns to face Bill, he’s giving her a long, searching look.

“There are scenes in bed, far too much kissing for my taste, and I hear that Elizabeth Taylor brags about her sexual prowess. I really don’t think that’s the kind of thing our young children should be seeing.”

Jo folds the dishtowel she’s been using and hangs it over the handle of the oven before heaving a deep sigh and turning out the light over the kitchen sink. “I bet most of it went right over their heads,” she says in a near whisper. “All I heard about washow glamorous Cleopatra was, and Jimmy loved the Battle of Actium scene. He talked about it all afternoon that day.”

Bill shakes his head. “Look, I know she’s your friend, but I’m just not sure that a thirty-year-old woman with no children who smokes two packs of cigarettes a day is the best babysitter for our children.”

Now Jo has gone beyond mildly defensive to fully annoyed. “Frankie is a wonderful woman, Bill. I would never leave the kids with someone I didn’t trust. They’ve had fun with her the few times she’s watched them, and in case you haven’t noticed, it’s been an amazing experience for me so far at the hospital. Not that you’ve bothered to ask much about how it’s going.”

Jo walks across the kitchen and makes to turn off the light, which would leave Bill standing there in the dark.

“Jo,” he says with a warning in his voice. She stops with her hand on the light switch. “Fine.” Bill relents. “How is it going so far? Have you decided to go back to school and become a nurse yet?”

Jo spins back around on him angrily. She would have accepted his belated, solicited inquiry into her volunteerism, but the sarcastic question tacked on at the end takes it a step too far. “Maybe,” she says with a tight jaw. “Maybe Iwillgo to college and go into medicine. Who knows?”

Bill pushes away from the counter and walks over to Jo, taking her by the elbow. “Me. I know. You’re not the type, Jo. You love being a mom,” he says imploringly, looking down into her eyes. “You’ve never once told me you were unsatisfied with being my wife, or with being a mother to our children, and I don’t think you are now. You’re just…floundering a little.”

“But I’mnot.” Jo shakes her head for emphasis. “I’m doing my best to find my footing here.” She drops her voice so that the kids won’t hear her over the sound of Ed Sullivan introducing his next guest. “I didn’t want to move to Florida, Bill. You knowthat. This place isn’t me. I mean, it’s beautiful, and having a pool is exotic, but I don’t know if I fit in here. I’m mountains, and picnics in the woods, and making my own dresses out of fabric I find on sale. And Florida is bikinis, and beaches, and eating lunch at the Neiman Marcus cafe while shopping for the latest fashions.” Jo pauses, exasperated. She flaps her hands in the air and then lets them fall to her sides helplessly. “I’m a fish out of water here, Bill.”

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