by Geri Krotow
“Oh, yeah. Definitely.”
Dutch’s eyes were still on her. She felt the heat of his gaze.
“Dutch, I’m fine. Today isn’t about me. Please don’t make a fuss.”
“Sasha and I did this you to thank you for staying on Friday night. If you’re not feeling well, we need to take care of you.”
“Claire, do you want some crackers?” Sasha sprang up and went to the waitress station. She obviously felt comfortable in the restaurant.
“Do you two come here often?” Claire wanted the focus off her and her darned stomach.
“Not really, but Sasha’s always loved this place. Who wouldn’t?” Dutch smiled as Sasha returned with a basket of individually wrapped crackers.
“That’s my girl.”
Sasha beamed at her dad’s praise. “Claire, do you want some ginger ale with these?”
Claire managed a chuckle. “Iced tea will be fine, thanks.”
Her hands shook as she tore the plastic off the saltines and put one in her mouth. The salt tasted heavenly on her tongue and she closed her eyes, taking a minute to savor it.
When she opened them, Dutch and Sasha were staring at her.
“What?”
“Nothing. You look like you still don’t feel that great.” Sasha tossed her head and leaned down to sip her cola. Dutch had allowed the caffeinated drink because it was Sasha’s real birthday and it was daytime.
His presence both warmed and infuriated Claire. She was grateful for his kindness when she’d gotten sick, but why couldn’t he keep the focus on his daughter and her birthday?
“I’m fine, really.” She threw Dutch a look that she hoped conveyed her boredom with the topic.
“Next time you get to pick what we do.” His voice was low, meant for her ears only in the noisy diner. Claire felt her color rise and had an immediate vision of straddling Dutch’s hips right here in the booth—no doubt exactly what he wanted her to think about.
“Dutch, please. Have some respect.” She nodded toward Sasha, who was reading her place mat. Or at least appeared to be—no way of knowing what those twelve-year-old ears were tuned in to.
His chuckle was all male and she became abruptly aware of his scent with its tang of salt air and clean soap…and masculinity. She had to admit it was an instant cure for her nausea.
“I owe you a real date, Claire.” Dutch’s soft proclamation jolted her and he felt it. But he didn’t look at her as Sasha started chatting again and his attention was back on his daughter.
Claire used the opportunity for some serious self-talk. Dutch was reacting to the joy of the day. His daughter was twelve, happy, and he and Claire were getting along well enough. His mild flirting was a natural part of who he was—when he wasn’t so guarded around her.
Take it for what it is, Claire.
THEY SPENT THE HOURS after lunch walking the academy grounds. Sasha especially enjoyed the tomb of John Paul Jones and the fountain between Michelson and Chauvenet halls, which housed the physics, chemistry and mathematics departments. Dutch enjoyed watching his daughter have such a great time. And he enjoyed being near Claire.
He kept catching himself staring at Claire or laughing as he hadn’t in years whenever Sasha and Claire shared a joke or ganged up on him. Still, he knew he should tread much more slowly.
Based on the past, Claire was not a woman he should ever trust. But he was tired of holding on to his resentments. They’d fueled an anger that had probably helped him get through the pain of Natalie’s sickness and death.
The results, however, were the same. He didn’t have anyone to blame for Natalie’s illness, and it had never been in his control. None of it.
Today had given him a chance to learn more about Claire and who’d she’d become since returning to Dovetail. He could dredge up all the reasons he owed Claire absolutely nothing, yet he couldn’t shake the growing conviction that indeed he owed her a lot.
He owed her for bringing Sasha back to him. Not that he’d lost his daughter, but she’d started to slip away emotionally in the last year. She’d needed a woman to guide her through the trials and tribulations of puberty. Even Ginny wasn’t the perfect mentor because they were closer in age than the usual mother and daughter.
Claire had changed. He’d witnessed it firsthand since he’d started taking care of her llamas. Since that first night in her barn she’d shown a side of herself he’d never imagined.
He didn’t want to look any deeper than that today. It was Sasha’s birthday and he’d save his own self-examination for another time.
“Dad?”
“Hmm, baby?” He was sitting on the edge of the wall that dropped from the fountain site to the running track that bordered the water.
“Claire looks like she’s having fun now, doesn’t she?”
He glanced over at the tulip bed where Claire lingered, a few feet off the path that led toward the Naval Academy Chapel.
“Yes, she does. This was a good call, honey.” He pushed his sunglasses up. “But it’s your day, Sasha. You didn’t pick this for Claire, did you?”
“No, Dad!” She punched him in the ribs. Not as gently as she used to, either.
“Ouch! Go easy on your old man.”
“When you stop bossing me around, I will.”
“Hey, you two, do I need to break this up?” Claire’s laughing tone carried across the courtyard and Dutch looked up to see her walking toward them, hips swinging in her snug-fitting jeans.
“Come on, Sasha, let’s head out. It’ll be time for sushi with Grandma and Grandpa before you know it.” Dutch lightly jabbed Sasha’s upper arm and stood.
“Can we go through the shops downtown for a bit?” Sasha never tired of shopping, whether she was actually buying anything or just looking.
Dutch groaned.
“Dad! It’s my day.”
Claire smiled at him. He felt as though he didn’t have a care in the world whenever she looked at him like that. He could get used to it.
“She’s got you, Dutch,” Claire murmured.
“Yes, she has. Okay, squirt. We’ll go window-shopping.”
As they made their way toward the academy gate that led back into town, Dutch took Claire’s hand. She glanced at their joined hands, then at him.
“Just for today, Claire. Let it all go and relax.” He swung on her arm lightly, and he felt her resistance melt.
“Okay, Dutch. Just for today.”
“C’mon, Sasha.” He held out his other arm toward his daughter.
CLAIRE WATCHED the family scene in the Japanese restaurant and sipped her glass of chardonnay. The women had all ordered wine. Claire noted with respect that neither Dutch nor his dad chose to drink, as they were both driving. Ginny had come in with her parents and planned to spend the evening at their home before going back to Baltimore in the morning.
Dutch’s parents—Dan, Sr., and Joan Archer—hadn’t aged much at all. Their skin was rougher and more lined, from years spent on their boat and in the Maryland sunshine, hiking and working in their beloved garden. They were welcoming to Claire and she appreciated it.
Ginny had laughed and given her a hug as soon as she saw her. Claire was taken aback but quickly realized that Dutch’s family didn’t harbor any ill feelings toward her.
She surmised that he’d never told them the circumstances of their estrangement in senior year, or more importantly, in the years Natalie was sick. And why should he have? He’d moved on by then.
Keep the past in the past.
“How’s the wine?” Dutch leaned across the table.
“Lovely. Crisp and fruity.”
“Good. Their sushi is always great but sometimes the wine selection can be tricky.”
“Sounds like you’ve been here quite a bit.”
His eyes clouded. “A bit.”
So had he brought a date, or dates, here? Or had this been his and Natalie’s special place?
“Downtown Annapolis has changed a lot since you lived here, has
n’t it, Claire?” Joan smiled at Claire, and she smiled back at the woman who had the same blue eyes as Dutch.
“Yes, it has. I don’t remember this restaurant or the coffee shop down the road.”
“Well, this place opened fairly recently. Do you remember when, Joan?” Mr. Archer looked at his wife. “Two, three years ago?”
“More like three, I think.” Mrs. Archer sipped her wine.
So it hadn’t been Natalie and Dutch’s place. Must be where he brings dates. Claire hated herself for allowing her thoughts to go in that particular direction. It was none of her business what Dutch did with his social life.
“So, Claire dear, tell me how your parents are.” Joan wasn’t going to let her off the hook completely.
Claire smiled. “They’re doing well, thanks for asking. They spend a lot of time away, but with cruising and going on nature vacations. You probably know Mom had a heart scare a couple of years ago, but that’s all it was. She’s healthier than ever.”
“And your dad? I remember he had a bad go of it right after you left for college, didn’t he?”
Claire winced inside. He’d had heart problems then, but her parents hadn’t told her everything. They’d wanted to protect her after the fiasco of her senior year and the breakup with Dutch.
“He’s fine, too. Yes, he had heart surgery back then, but has been fastidious about his nutrition and exercise ever since.” Claire laughed. “He’s healthier than most men half his age.”
“That’s wonderful.” The next minute Mrs. Archer was distracted by Sasha, thank goodness. “Sasha sweetheart, what kind of sushi did you order?”
DUTCH FLINCHED when his mother brought up that difficult time when he, Natalie and Claire all went off to college. Natalie had turned out not to be pregnant, but they hadn’t been quick to tell Claire. Their bond had already wound tight around both their hearts.
And he’d believed his bond with Claire to be irrevocably broken.
Dutch looked at the scene around him. His family acted as if Claire had always been there. No sign of any past disturbance.
Claire’s gaze caught his attention. She was seated across from him and the candlelight added to the glow in her eyes.
He could hardly breathe.
God, she was stunning.
“Are you bored?” He kept his voice subdued. Since they were at the end of the table and Ginny was engaged with Sasha and his parents, they had relative privacy.
“Not at all. I love being on the hot seat with your family.” She smiled as she spoke, though, and surprised him when she grabbed his hand.
“This is a special evening for your family and Sasha, and I’m honored to be part of it.” She knew him well enough to understand that he didn’t want her to feel like an outsider, or worse, an outcast.
Not many people in his life had ever read him so easily.
He didn’t reply. He couldn’t. A thought that he’d kept buried for many years whispered in his mind. But it wasn’t a soft lover’s whisper. It was the voice of his conscience.
Maybe you’re the one who doesn’t deserve to be forgiven. Not Claire.
He dragged his eyes from her and looked down the table at Sasha, who was animated as she told her grandparents and aunt about Claire’s getting sick on the boat.
Dutch groaned. “I’m sorry, Claire. Everyone didn’t need to know about that.”
“It’s okay, really.” She waved her hand. “Relax.”
Relaxing around Claire when he was so aware of her was difficult. He’d had to fight off his arousal all day. His daydreams were of being alone with her—soon.
“Tell you what,” he said. “I’ll make this up to you. I’ll take you out, only the two of us, and we’ll have a wonderful meal at, let’s see…” He pulled on his bottom lip as he thought. “Café Normandie or Yellow Fin, perhaps?”
Claire’s eyes widened and she raised an eyebrow.
Both restaurants fell into the “real date” category. “You owe me nothing, Dutch. Let’s enjoy this celebration.”
She might as well have thrown her glass of water at him.
It was sobering to have her remind him of the agreement he’d insisted on.
Dutch smiled as Sasha opened her gifts, including the charm bracelet he’d bought her. He hugged her when she ran up to him and squealed her thanks. But he couldn’t keep his mind from racing.
Until now, he hadn’t recognized a crucial element in their relationship. Claire had changed. And Sasha loved Claire.
So where did that leave him and Claire?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
SASHA WAS STILL tired on Tuesday after her birthday weekend.
She half listened to Naomi as she droned on about her conversation with Nathan in third period. Sasha liked to look out the window as the yellow school bus made its way through Dovetail. Today she was going to Claire’s to help with the llamas.
At least, that was what Daddy thought. And truly, she did work with the llamas, but she also spent quite a bit of time with Claire in her house or more recently, in the small cottage where Claire was setting up her yarn shop. They were working on the sweater and Claire said a friend was coming over to help them.
“You really think so?” Naomi prodded Sasha.
“What? Um, yeah.” She hoped her encouragement was all Naomi needed. Naomi was a nice girl under all her complaining and whining, but she had a lot of problems. Sasha didn’t care that Naomi had cut her hair spike-short and dyed it blacker than coal, a sharp contrast to her pale skin and sky-blue eyes. And she had to admit the pierced eyebrow wasn’t something she wanted, but if Naomi liked it, that was all that mattered.
It was Naomi’s annoying habit of going on and on with her “poor me” complaints that drove Sasha crazy. Sasha wasn’t always happy with herself, but she knew her dad, Grandma and Grandpa Archer and Aunt Ginny loved her. And now she could add Claire to that list. She smiled.
And then looked at Naomi.
No one else would sit with Naomi. Sasha had invited her to the sleepover birthday party because she liked having all her friends around her. But a couple of the other girls had made it clear that Naomi freaked them out.
“I mean, if he thought it was going to impress me that he reads graphic novels, that’s pretty lame, isn’t it?” Naomi went on.
“Yeah—obviously.” Phew. Sasha had picked up the gist of the conversation. Naomi was still talking about her current crush, Nathan. Naomi acted as if she didn’t like him, but Sasha knew that if Naomi didn’t like someone she didn’t bother talking about him or her.
“That’s what I figured.” As Naomi thrust a hand through her hair, the jacket sleeve fell back and Sasha caught a glimpse of her pale forearm.
“Naomi, what happened?” She gasped out the question. There were angry red scratches on Naomi’s translucent skin. Deep scratches.
“Nothing. I mean, it’s from the prickly bush in front of our house.”
“What did you do, skateboard into it?” Naomi had been the best skateboarder in their neighborhood, but Sasha hadn’t seen her on her board for quite a while. Not since last summer, anyway.
“Yeah, whatever.” Naomi turned back into her despondent self. Sasha was bothered by this side of Naomi, but tolerated it because she felt she saw past the facade. Sasha had liked the word facade ever since she’d heard it on the trip to downtown Annapolis with Dad and Claire. The historical buildings in Annapolis often had facades.
The bus stopped where Sasha and Naomi normally got off. When Sasha didn’t move into the aisle, Naomi looked at her quizzically.
“I get off at Llama Fiber Haven today.”
“Oh, right.” Naomi walked down the aisle without a goodbye and climbed out of the bus.
Sasha watched her friend walk into their neighborhood, head down. Naomi sure had been acting weird, ever since she’d quit gymnastics last month. She’d really pissed off her parents, who wanted Naomi to be a “major competitor” in gymnastics.
Naomi wanted more time to chil
l, but Mr. and Mrs. Roberts had flipped out and grounded Naomi for a month.
Sasha’s thoughts turned to Claire as the bus left from the town center and headed out to the country highway. There were only a handful of kids still on the bus. Sasha knew several of them, but no one very well—they were from the outskirts of town, whereas Sasha had grown up in one of the established neighborhoods in Dovetail.
Sasha all but leaped off the bus when it ground to a halt in front of the Llama Fiber Haven sign. With a toss of her ponytail she bounced down the gravel road to Claire’s house. Before she went past the front cottage, Claire appeared on the small porch and waved.
“Hey, Sasha! I’m in here—come on in.”
“Hey.” Sasha climbed the two steps and entered the cottage behind Claire. The place had been musty and dank last week, but now it seemed brighter, cleaner. Claire wore rubber cleaning gloves and there was a big bucket of sudsy water in the middle of the floor. That explained the difference.
“Wow, Claire, this is great! Do you want me to do anything?”
“I’m almost finished with the cleaning. I thought we could start stocking the shelves with some of the yarn that’s come in, then we’ll sit down and work on your dad’s sweater until Mr. Black comes over to help us.” Donald was often part of their knitting time, and he and Sasha had a great rapport.
“Okay. Where’s the yarn?” Sasha looked around the room. The rows of shelves were all new, sort of like a bookstore.
“See those boxes in the corner? If we take it one by one, we’ll get it unpacked in no time. We’ll keep the yarn in plastic bags for now, but at least we can inventory what’s here.” Claire wiped her forehead with the back of her arm.
Sasha liked how Claire’s skin was pink and her hair all wavy around her face. Sasha often tried to curl her own hair, but it was stick-straight, like her dad’s.
“No problem.” Sasha went to the corner and Claire followed her.
“You know I owe this all to you, kiddo.”
“What?”
“This store.” Claire tucked a strand of Sasha’s hair behind her ear. Sasha loved when Claire did stuff like that.