by Geri Krotow
Sasha.
Claire turned her gaze back on Dutch.
“You’re right, Dutch. I’ve been a selfish bitch at times. But not all of what I’ve done is bad. If the worst thing I did was let go of my childhood friends…did it ever occur to you that maybe it’s what I needed to do to find myself? As much as you and Natalie needed to stay in Dovetail, near each other?”
“Natalie didn’t live long enough to find herself, Claire. She wasn’t given that choice.”
“You’re wrong, Dutch. Natalie lived the life she chose. She studied history the way she’d dreamed, had the baby she wanted, had you.” She waited a moment, allowed her words to register for Dutch.
“Natalie’s dead, Dutch. Nothing I do, or you do, will bring her back. It’s no one’s fault that she died, and I’m not taking your misplaced blame and anger anymore.”
“This isn’t going anywhere.” Dutch turned toward the barn.
Claire touched his shoulder and he turned back toward her. “No, wait. I’m not done yet, Dutch.”
“No, I imagine you’re not.” His expression was guarded, but his voice softer. Claire knew this was when she had to press her point.
“I’ve changed my life, started over. I can be a presence in Sasha’s life that will make a difference. A good difference, Dutch. I’m not a monster, for heaven’s sake. I’m a woman who’s made some mistakes.”
The anger roiled slow and hot in her belly. Her hands started to shake. “And you know what, Dutch? I don’t need your forgiveness or your approval. For anything.” She swept her hands in front of her as if clearing a table.
“All I care about now is doing the right thing by Natalie and doing what I can for Sasha. But if it’s going to upset you this much, it isn’t worth it. Not for any of us.”
She left him standing alone when she strode back to the barn.
A WEEK LATER, Claire made it home with fifteen minutes to spare before Sasha got off the school bus. She gathered up her notes and the supplies they needed for Sasha to practice her 4-H presentation. Since Donald Black wasn’t coming out this week, she’d agreed to help Sasha with the llama project. Sasha wanted to surprise Dutch by having the 4-H project done early, well before the Sheep and Wool Festival.
Sasha was going to show Nip at the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival. Because of the cria twins’ rocky start, Sasha had procured special permission to enter the competition with Nip, even though he lived at Claire’s barn and wasn’t in Sasha’s complete control.
Claire met Sasha in front of the barn.
“Hey!” Sasha leaned into Claire in what Claire had come to learn was a sixth-grader’s version of a hug. No arms, but Sasha’s head rested on Claire’s shoulder long enough for Claire to know it was an intentional gesture. Claire gave Sasha a quick squeeze.
“How was your day?” They walked into the barn together and Sasha shrugged out of her backpack.
“Oh, fine.” She dropped the heavy bag on the bench outside Nip and Tuck’s pen. “Actually, it wasn’t that great.”
“What happened?” Claire was careful to keep her voice steady, her focus on opening the latch to the cria pen. One thing she’d learned over the past month was that Sasha was more likely to open up if Claire didn’t appear too interested.
“Remember I told you about my friend Naomi?”
“The girl who wore the dark makeup?” No doubt without her parents’ permission. “I met her at your sleepover, didn’t I?”
“Yeah. Well, she’s been trying to go out with this creepy eighth-grader. He’s a regular sleazebag and he won’t have anything to do with her. So now she’s going totally bonkers and it’s freaking me out.”
“What do you mean bonkers? Is she overly emotional?”
Sasha looked at Claire as if she were a fossilized dodo bird.
“Kind of, but, you know, more like someone who’s a Goth but also sometimes cuts.”
“Cuts? You don’t mean cuts class, do you, Sasha?”
Claire held her breath. She knew what cutting meant but needed to make sure Sasha understood the significance of it.
“No, kids who are lonely or sad sometimes cut themselves to feel physical pain, because it’s, like, the only thing that’ll break through their, like, emotional numbness.”
Her frown and fidgety motion as she worked with the llamas tipped Claire off to how much this bothered Sasha. Her frequent use of like also told Claire how agitated she was.
“Where did you learn about this?”
“About Naomi?” Sasha looked up from her chores.
“No, about cutting.” Claire stood in front of her.
“Well…” Sasha leaned on her rake. “All the kids talk about it and then in health class Mr. Papadago brought in the school counselor, Ms. Nosette, and she had a talk with us and told us about it.”
Claire’s insides shook with fear, but she maintained an even tone. She had to or risk missing something important.
“Does your dad know?”
“Well, yeah, I think so. I mean, most people aren’t worried about it. But Ms. Nosette said she wanted us to look out for anyone who seemed like they were more upset than normal.”
“Did you tell your dad about Naomi? Did you mention it to anyone else, like one of your teachers? This is serious, Sasha. Naomi may need professional help and you may be her only link to it.”
“No, it’s not like I’ve actually seen her cut herself. She’s acting like she’s upset, but I don’t think she’ll really do anything.” Sasha started raking again, then paused. “You know, she had all these scratches on her arms a while back, but she said they were from the bushes near her house.”
Claire sighed and stroked Tuck’s neck while Sasha tended to Nip. “Sometimes we can’t tell what someone will or won’t do, Sasha. You could talk to your dad and he could call Naomi’s folks.”
“Yeah, well, Naomi’s parents don’t give a crap.”
Claire was sure Dutch wouldn’t approve of that language, but she needed to reach Sasha. Hoped to, anyhow. She’d fill Dutch in later.
“That’s too bad. You know you can always tell your school counselor or nurse, too.”
“Yeah, I know. I really don’t think she’s losing it but, well, it’s still freaky to see her acting so weird.”
“Sasha, we all want to be there for our friends, but the most important thing is that you’re safe and you know what’s best for you. You’ve got your dad, and your aunt Ginny and me, right?”
She nodded. “Dealing with Naomi can get so stressful.”
“Being around Nip and Tuck helps, though, doesn’t it?” Claire was never sure where today’s reality for middle school students ended and Sasha’s penchant for being a drama girl began.
“Of course. You’re a good boy, aren’t you, Nip?” Sasha crooned to the cria as though she’d been raising llamas her whole life.
Steps crunched on the gravel drive outside the barn and Claire turned to see Dutch walking into the enclosure.
Sasha greeted him. “Hi, Dad! Why are you here so early?”
“Way to make a guy feel welcome. I thought I’d come and get you two and take you out to dinner.”
Claire silently berated herself for the wobbly feeling in her stomach. “You don’t need to take me to dinner, Dutch.”
“Aw, come on, Claire. It’ll be fun.” Sasha eliminated Claire’s wiggle room.
Dutch’s enigmatic gaze was so bright Claire couldn’t maintain eye contact. “Yeah, it’ll be fun. You’ve done so much for Sasha, let us do this one thing for you.”
Claire relented. He’d said us, not I. “Okay. But, Sasha, you still have a few chores to finish, don’t you?”
“Oh, yeah.” Sasha smiled, her braces glinting in the late-afternoon sunlight.
“Sasha, do you have your cell phone?”
“Yes. Right here.” Sasha pulled the phone out of her front jeans pocket.
“Great. I’m going to talk to your dad outside for a few minutes until you’re done, okay?”
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“Sure.”
Once she and Dutch were out of Sasha’s curious earshot, Claire released a long breath.
“Is everything all right?” Dutch’s tone was concerned without being accusative—which was an improvement.
She stopped near his truck and turned to him. “Dutch, what do you know about Sasha’s friend Naomi?”
“Naomi?” His wrinkled brow betrayed his concern. “They were best buddies growing up, but I haven’t seen Naomi around our house lately. Although she was at the sleepover.” He frowned. “A very Goth-looking girl. Do you remember meeting her?”
“Yes. I’m asking because Sasha says Naomi is upset and shows signs of depression, or some kind of emotional distress.” She rubbed her upper arms. “I’m not a psychologist or an expert with children, but you may want to call Naomi’s parents.”
“I’m not sure that would do any good.” Dutch had one eyebrow raised, and his hands rested on his hips. “Do you think Sasha’s hanging out with her too much?”
“Not at all. As a matter of fact, you can be proud of Sasha. She doesn’t want to be part of Naomi’s poor choices. But we may be talking about something Naomi doesn’t have control over, like her mental health. Someone needs to know.”
Dutch nodded. “I’ll talk to Sasha, and I’ll call the school in the morning.” He paused. “You know Sasha can be a drama queen at times, don’t you?”
Claire smiled. “We all can. But this is serious.” She looked at him. “Be careful how you approach it with Sasha, Dutch. I don’t want her to feel like I betrayed her trust. I just want her to be safe.”
“Claire?” The sparkle was back in his blue eyes.
“Dutch?” She called on her emotional reserves to guard her heart.
“Thank you. You’ve come to mean a lot to both of us.”
“Thanks, Dutch.” She disregarded the comment about himself.
“Now, let’s go to dinner.” He smiled and her resolve melted in direct response to her attraction.
“Where are we going?”
“Nothing fancy—how about the diner?”
“Okay.” Phew. The diner was busy and full of people. No opportunity to get too close to Dutch.
CLAIRE DIDN’T COUNT on her twin sisters being in the diner at the same time. Jewel and Jenna sat a large corner booth, talking.
“Hey, Claire!” Jenna waved them over. “Sit down and join us!”
Claire groaned. Dutch laughed.
“You sound like you don’t love your sisters.” His grin revealed that he understood exactly what she feared. No doubt he’d felt the same when they had dinner in Annapolis with his family.
“Claire, it’s Jewel and Jenna!” Sasha squealed as only a preteen could.
The rare times Sasha had been at the farm when the twins stopped by they’d all gotten along famously. Claire hadn’t minded, as she knew the twins were so much closer in age to Sasha than she was. Sasha could relate easily to Jenna and Jewel. They’d all grown up in the digital age. Claire still remembered the day cable television was hooked up in their living room. The twins hadn’t been born yet.
Sasha skittered over to their booth. Claire saw Jenna slide quickly from her bench and into Jewel’s, placing Sasha between them.
Great.
She and Dutch had a bench to themselves. The benches weren’t that big and she knew that within a moment of sitting next to him her ability to focus would be gone.
Who was she kidding? It’d left when she’d gotten into Dutch’s truck.
She followed Dutch to their booth. She didn’t miss how the twins assessed Dutch from head to toe. Jenna was beyond obvious as she gave him a once-over, then raised her eyebrow as if to say, So, I hear you like my sister.
Jewel was more subtle. She sent him a quiet smile that said, Either treat her right or get lost.
“Good evening, Jenna, Jewel.” He greeted them as though they met here regularly for family meals. Claire had to give him points for going along with their jocularity.
“Hi, Dutch. Taking the ladies out for dinner?” Jenna smiled, and Claire bit her tongue to keep from saying something rude.
“Actually, Sasha and I are taking Claire out. As a thank-you, this time without the boat.”
The giggles that erupted from the twins and Sasha dissolved Claire’s determination to play it cool. “Can’t blame them,” she said. “I wasn’t much fun that day.”
“Sure you were, Claire,” Sasha insisted staunchly. If only that adoration would last. Chances were that, in a few years, Sasha wouldn’t see Claire so uncritically.
Claire slid into the booth and Dutch got in beside her.
“Did you ever hear about the time Claire dated a midshipman at the Naval Academy?” Jenna went on to tell the awful tale of how Claire had puked all over one of the academy’s sailboats. The mid was responsible for the condition of the craft when he returned it, so instead of taking her out for dinner he had to spend the evening bleaching it down.
Claire looked at the twins with what she hoped were shooting flames.
They made Sasha’s matchmaking attempts appear amateurish—and Claire had been impressed with some of Sasha’s manipulations over the past couple of months.
“When was this?” His lowered voice was solely for her ears. The twins and Sasha were gabbing away and didn’t even notice that Dutch and Claire were having their own conversation.
“On one of my spring breaks.” His expression made her laugh. “Dutch, it was a long time ago, and you were busy with your own life.” In fact, it had happened after he and Natalie had become engaged.
He sighed and picked up his menu. She did the same, even though she knew what she wanted. From the diner, anyway.
“What did you two ladies order?” The timber of Dutch’s voice and the heat of his thigh next to hers made Claire think of more than food.
“Dottie just took our order,” Jenna said. “We like to come here on Fridays for the crab-cake platter.”
“That’s what I’m getting,” he told her. “But I prefer the sandwich.”
Dutch turned to Claire. She hadn’t been in such close proximity to him other than the times they’d embraced. Heat crawled up her neck and she was sure her cheeks glowed.
Dutch laughed, a low and tantalizing sound. “Then crabs it is.” He smiled at her and she wanted to grab a water glass and splash his face. They’d agreed to be cordial, friends. Not flirt in front of her twin sisters. He knew exactly what he was doing. Despite her attempt to keep everything on an even keel, she felt her mouth twitching.
“So, Dutch, Claire told us she’s enjoying her time with Sasha, and that you all had a wonderful day in Annapolis.” Jewel opened the conversation with that fairly neutral remark.
“Except for the seasickness.” Jenna remained ever-practical.
Dutch turned back to the twins. Claire gave a silent sigh of relief at not being in his direct scrutiny for at least a moment. The pressure of his thigh against hers was enough intensity. She tried to scoot closer to the wall without being obvious, but Dutch pushed harder.
“Yes, she is, aren’t you, Sash?” He reached over to pull Sasha’s menu down and tweak her nose.
Sasha swiped him back. “Quit it, Dad!”
The whole table laughed. Claire loved hearing all their voices raised in such a joyful sound.
“Hey, Dutch.” Dottie put down a glass of water in front of Dutch and nodded.
Dutch looked up. “Why are you working on Friday night, Dottie? I thought you’d stopped weekends.”
Dottie blushed as if she’d been caught with the goods, but Claire wasn’t sure what the “goods” were.
“Let me guess, Mel needs to come in later to get the baking done for Sunday’s rush?”
At Dutch’s teasing, Dottie swatted him on the head with her receipt book. “You mind your own beeswax, Dr. Archer. You tend to your animals and let me tend to my diner, okay?” Dutch laughed and Claire smiled. Dottie put her hand on her hip. “You’ve decided to dine with
these fine gals, I take it? The usual?”
“You got it, Dottie.” Dutch had dropped the subject of Mel. He understood that it was okay to tease Dottie a little, but he didn’t want to embarrass her.
“You want the sandwich, right?”
“Yeah, not like these wimps eating them plain.”
“Claire?” Dottie asked. “You want yours plain?”
Claire nodded, and Sasha said, “Me, too!”
As the twins laughed, Claire squirmed. She’d looked forward to a quiet night at home. Dutch’s presence put a meal in practically the same league as a White House press event. She breathed deeply and tried to stay grounded. Tried to remember that she ran her own life.
Problem was, Dutch had been part of her life for so long, whether directly or indirectly. Even in D.C., the biggest reason she hadn’t come back to see Natalie was her feelings for Dutch.
“Daddy?” Claire glanced over at Sasha. She usually called Dutch “Dad.”
“Yes?” Dutch heard the different tone, too. Claire felt the slight tightening of his muscles. He knew he was being set up.
“When are you going to take Claire on a real date?”
The twins each grabbed their drinks and sucked them through their straws, eyes downcast. Sasha stared at Dutch. Claire watched Dutch as he stared back at his daughter.
Claire held her breath.
How was he going to get out of this one? She’d have to talk to her sisters about not encouraging Sasha—and staying out of her business. It seemed a bit precocious, even for Sasha, to ask such a question in public.
Dutch surprised them all.
“Next Friday night when you’re on your school band trip.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE NEXT FRIDAY night, Claire opened the door to Dutch. He wore a sea-blue polo shirt and khakis, and his skin glowed from the sun. He presented her with a bouquet of peach-colored tulips.
“Thank you so much. You didn’t have to do any of this, you know.” She returned to the kitchen and checked the cupboard for a vase.
“I don’t ever do anything I don’t want to, Claire.” He stepped into the kitchen and held his hand out to her. “Leave the flowers for now. They’ll be fine. Let’s go.”