35
Clara awoke at the first note of her alarm and silenced it immediately. She got ready as quietly as humanly possible, reluctant to wake the man across the hall—assuming he’d come home sometime in the night from his poker game. He hadn’t been home at eleven when she’d gone to bed.
She could just picture him pulling the big-brother act and asking the other guys about poor tattooed Sam, who had just popped out of Yoli’s head a few days ago like Athena out of Zeus. Oh, Yoli and her big mouth!
Would they have given him a hard time when he realized there was no such animal? Would he be mad? Shocked? Was there any chance he’d just be amused by the antics of two silly girls?
Thank goodness for the STEM kids, giving her an excuse to be unavailable for comment all morning. Even if Jesse made an appearance, it might not be a bad idea for their first post-poker night meeting to take place in front of minor witnesses.
The club was meeting at the house today for the first time; Dr. Wilder had called their parents and offered the teens use of the Colonel’s workshop for their robotics projects, and they were showing up at eight to get started.
Clara crept softly down the stairs, preheated the oven, and threw together a cheesy egg casserole and a cinnamon-swirl coffee cake—Miss Mabel’s mother’s recipe—before she even started the coffee. It wasn’t strictly necessary to provide breakfast for the teens, but it was very satisfying to see how enthusiastically they gobbled up whatever she brought them.
Greer, still drowsy from her medication, stirred in her crate, and Clara took her outside to pee and then gave her some water. She went back to sleep without a fuss, so Clara didn’t feed her.
She was doctoring her coffee when the back door opened and Jesse Flores came in from his—run? Did he go running with bruised ribs and a shoulder sprain? He wasn’t wearing the sling.
Play it cool, Clara! Maybe he didn’t even ask them about Sam the Marine!
“Good morning,” she said lightly.
“’Morning, ladies,” he boomed, including Greer. “Oh.” He took out his earphones. “Was that loud? Sorry.”
She shook her head quickly. “Did you run?”
“Walked. Felt good.”
“Oh, good.” This was going surprisingly well.
“You lied,” he said directly, coming towards her.
“No,” she denied automatically, but she knew it sounded guilty. Technically , though, she had never said anything to him about Sam. He had eavesdropped and made a bunch of assumptions. Assumptions that had been designed for him to make.
She watched him warily as he approached, but she wasn’t prepared for him to pick up her coffee and gulp it down. She felt her mouth hanging open but couldn’t seem to close it.
He set the cup on the counter, more than half-empty now. “That’s good coffee. Smells great in here.” He pressed his nose against her hair and inhaled deeply. “Nope. It’s not you.”
And then he slapped her butt on his way out of the room, making her jump.
Just endorphins from his walk , she told herself. Football players do it to each other!
She knew she was still looking stunned when her father entered the room carrying his bride.
“Good morning, Clara,” her mother said cheerfully.
“That’s so cute,” Clara said mechanically.
“What’s the matter? You look weird,” her father said.
“Nothing,” she said faintly. “How’s the knee today, Mom?”
“Better than yesterday. Your father’s just being romantic.”
“Good. I made some coffee cake and that egg soufflé recipe of Aunt Liesl’s. Just in case the STEM kids are hungry.”
“You’re spoiling them,” her mother warned, as she was placed with great care in an armchair by the fireplace. “I’ll have to feed them from now on.”
“They always eat every crumb, no matter what I bring,” Clara explained, pouring two more cups of coffee and refilling her own. “How can I stop? I can’t.”
“I might need help,” Clara said abruptly.
She had bailed on the STEM club meeting before it was over because her mother’s armchair had been moved into the shop and Jesse had joined in, too. Now she and her father were on horseback, completing a thorough inspection of the perimeter of their property. She kept seeing prints from Jesse’s running shoes, and it didn’t look like he had walked the whole time. Hopefully he knew how hard he could push himself, but doctors were notoriously bad patients.
“What’s up?” the Colonel said, turning in his saddle to glance over her mount.
“I mean with Jesse.”
“Oh,” he said.
Oh. A wealth of meaning in that word. She didn’t doubt that he had always known about her crush on Jesse. She hadn’t been very subtle at nine years old and probably wasn’t doing much better this time around.
“He’s going to leave soon and I’m going to be an old maid, Dad!”
“Dramatic.”
She grinned, because it was true. “Don’t you ever want grandbabies?”
“Neutral about it.”
“No one’s neutral about babies. Can’t you help me? You’re the best strategizer in the world. How do I get him to fall in love with me?”
“Don’t have to,” he answered.
She considered this. “Do you mean—he will on his own? Or it’s a bad idea?”
“He will on his own.”
“What? Why? Why do you say that? Because you’re my dad and you think I’m perfect?”
“Princess, you’re the most high-maintenance woman I’ve ever met. A full-on nightmare to most men.”
“You made me this way!”
“I know. I like you.” After a pause he added, “Jesse does, too.”
She wanted to believe it, but she couldn’t afford to be optimistic. “He’s leaving in a few days.”
“He’ll be back,” he said, unbothered.
“ When? ”
“I don’t know. Not too long.”
“For Christmas?”
He looked at her. That was all it took.
“I’m being ridiculous,” she agreed. “So, you don’t think I should be concerned that he’s leaving in a few days? Should I be cool about it? Should I make a pass? Should I go with him?”
He was quiet for so long that she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then he said, “Jesse has to work through some things on his own.”
“About Mom?”
“That. Work. Austin. You.”
“I can help him,” she said at once. “I’m his spirit gardener.”
But the Colonel shook his head.
“Then what? What can I do?”
“Just…be nice about it.”
She had not expected that answer. “Oh.”
“And be patient.”
“Okay.”
“A pass’ll backfire right now.”
She shuddered. “You’re sure?”
He nodded once. “Man’s a ball of stress. And guilt.”
No one understood what made people tick like her hyper-observant, thoughtful father, and she trusted his instincts even more than her own. “Okay. Thanks, Dad.”
He nodded again.
“I’m going to marry him,” she said.
He sighed. “I know, baby.”
She laughed, because she suddenly recalled saying so before, not once but several times, when she was a lot younger. “I mean it this time.”
“I know,” he said again.