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pool in the rec room, watching late movies.
    Teagan hurried faster.  Why couldn’t she completely forget?  She needed to be alone and to bury his memory once again.  Was it really nine years since she’d returned the engagement ring?  Sometimes it seemed like a lifetime ago; other times, only yesterday that they were still at college sparring intellectually.  She loved stretching her mind with Bryan at the end of the opposing thought wave.  Russian history was the only subject in which he earned better grades.
    “ So what,” Teagan said.  “Knowing about Rasputin won’t help me sell fish.”  Long before she met him, she wanted to own a fish market.  Couldn’t remember when she didn’t.  He knew that.  But her life-long goal grew into the issue that broke them apart.  It shouldn’t have.
     
    The following year, they’d both earned their degrees; his giving him the privilege of administering a school, hers to sink or swim in the world of small business.  They were also engaged.
    Their life together was settled until Bryan couldn’t land a job in the local school systems and accepted one in Oklahoma.  She finally gathered the courage to say, “I’m sorry, but I just can’t go with you.”
    “You promised we’d be together,” he said.  “I can’t stand separation.”
    “ That’s asinine, Bryan.  One year in Alaska, and I’ll have the down payment for my shop.”
    “ You know I have to take the position in Oklahoma.  Come with me.  We’ll get married in Vegas.  After a couple of years, I’ll re-apply to the Washington school districts and we’ll be able to move back.”
    “ Two years is what I need.  By the time you return, I’ll have my market going and we’ll be together.”  She willed him to understand the attachment she felt for the waterfront, understand what she owed.  It was there she found acceptance as a child; the old salts gave her what no one else bothered to.  And she would give them a place to sell their catch.  Give them a fair price, help keep them afloat. 
    Bryan’s brows rose; doubt of her sanity rested in his eyes.  “You want to spend a whole year on a fishing trawler?”  He meant his question to be incredulous, but it sounded sarcastic.
    Why couldn’t he see?  “I want you and my own business.”  His face chiseled with disappointment and his shoulders hunched with sadness, and she’d ignored them, stayed locked in the foolish pride of being right.  In the days afterward, she repeated the refusal to go with him until he relented and agreed their love was strong enough to survive the miles.
    And it was, she thought.  So what happened?
    Now she understood the two lonely years she’d put between them was a time too long.  She’d learned the hard bitter way when his letters stopped and he no longer returned her messages.  Then she heard of his marriage.  Why couldn’t he wait?  Or understand?  She had to be her own woman before she became his.
     
    Not until Teagan finally hauled the grocery bag through her front door, set the deadbolt, and leaned against the door did she manage to put to rest the memories that flowed unchecked.  She hoped it’d be another nine years before she ran into Joyce again.
    Teagan carried the groceries by the comfortable clutter of objects she loved: pottery, magazines, ivy, Navajo throws, early American furniture and scented candles.  Her condo wasn't a complete mess like Doretta's, nor stark to the point of bareness like Pai's.  It simply suited her.  She wondered how a baby sharing her haven would change it.  Silly thought.  Didn’t matter how much.  She vowed to keep him the center of her days, and then doubted her need to vow.  Keeping him foremost should come naturally. 
    In the kitchen, the fragrance of jasmine floated from the candle Pai bought for her birthday.  Maybe the reason for Pai’s paranoia was fear of change, afraid of her ability to care for her baby.
    No, it seemed more than