Family Ties

Chapter 8

I woke up with a gun to my head.

Literally.

I opened my eyes and blinked in the glare from the overhead light.

“Don’t fucking move,” Rich said.

My eyes slowly shifted to the gun, a big, black automatic. My skin prickled as adrenaline flooded my system.

Christy came awake but didn’t move. She must have heard Rich’s voice and felt me tense.

“Wake up, Birdy,” he told her.

She opened her eyes. They went wide when she saw the gun.

“Get out of there, Birdy. Now.”

“Rich, what’re you doing?” She slid her hand back.

I couldn’t believe it when she grabbed my rapidly shrinking manhood. At first I thought she was fondling me, but instead she tucked it into my boxers.

“Get the hell out of there, Birdy. Now, Goddammit!”

“Rich, what—?”

Someone opened the door to the house. Terry’s voice said, “Ready to go?

Whoa! Rich? What’s the situation?”

“Yeah, Rich, what the hell?” Danny was awake too, and just as confused.

Rich pulled back the covers and yanked Christy up by the arm.

“Ow! Rich, you’re hurting me!”

I felt an irrational surge of anger.

“Get up, you little shit stain,” he snarled at me.

I leapt to my feet as my emotions coalesced to a white-hot point.

He stepped back and leveled the gun at my chest.

I moved toward him, bent on murder.

“Stop right there.”

“Rich, what the hell are you doing?” Terry said.

Danny stood. “Yeah, Rich, what’re you thinking?”

“Rich, don’t hurt him,” Christy pleaded.

“Shut up!” His eyes snapped back to me. “Move again and you’re dead.”

I glared.

“Yeah?” he said. “You think you’re tough?”

“Rich,” Danny said slowly, “don’t do anything stupid.”

My field of vision blurred at the edges as I concentrated on Rich. I wanted to kill him with my bare hands. All I needed was a small distraction to get inside his guard. I flicked through the moves in my mind.

Rich thumbed off the pistol’s safety.

Danny and Terry both shouted, but Rich and I were totally focused on each other.

“Do it, you chickenshit bastard,” I taunted.

“You think I won’t?” He gripped the pistol tighter but didn’t pull the trigger. Instead, he stepped in and hit me hard in the head with the butt of the grip.

Light exploded behind my eyes as I fell to my hands and knees. I watched with a detached sort of curiosity as blood dripped from my brow and landed on the ground. I fought through the pain, waited a moment for my eyes to focus, and then looked up. I decided that if Rich was going to kill me, he was going to live the rest of his life as a eunuch. I tensed to lunge.

The house door swung open again.

Harold sized up the situation in an instant. “Richard, put the gun down.”

“Stand up,” Rich said to me.

“Fuck you, asshole.” I stood anyway and met his eyes. They were just like Christy’s, only hard and merciless.

“Put. The weapon. Down!” Harold barked. “Lieutenant!”

Rich finally looked away.

“Now!”

Rich was breathing hard, and I realized that I was too. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as he lowered the pistol.

I wasn’t out of danger yet, and the monkey in the back of my brain told me to jump him and smash his skull while he was distracted.

Do it! Do it now! it screamed. Kill him!

Some rational part of me kept a firm grip on the instinct. I didn’t move.

“Now, Lieutenant.” Harold moved forward and physically took the gun from his son’s hand.

My vision expanded and I saw Anne behind him, with Christy behind her.

Anne’s hair was unbrushed and she wore a nightdress. For that matter, Harold was only wearing his striped pajamas, and the top wasn’t even buttoned. At least Christy had managed to grab her pajamas when she ran into the house, so she wasn’t standing there in her underwear.

“Jesus Christ,” Danny said softly.

Harold surveyed the tableau. “Go back inside,” he told his wife. “And take Birdy with you.”

She did.

Blood dripped onto my chest. I ignored it and glared at Rich. He glared back.

“Someone tell me what the hell is going on here,” Harold said.

“This little shit stain…,” Rich began. He couldn’t bring himself to say whatever he was thinking. Instead he gestured at the cot. “There! With Birdy!”

Harold glanced at me. His face hardened when I didn’t deny it, but he directed his immediate anger at his son. “Richard, go inside. Take Terry with you.” He glanced at his other son. “You too, Daniel. Now. All of you. That’s an order.”

Rich looked mutinous but did as he was told.

Harold seemed to relax once they’d gone, although I wasn’t off the hook yet. He tried to stare me down but I refused to be cowed.

“You’re bleeding,” he said at last.

No shit, Sherlock. I had the good sense not to say it aloud. The man was holding a loaded pistol, after all.

He seemed to notice it himself. He thumbed on the safety and used the distraction to think through what had happened.

“What are you going to do?” I asked.

“The question is, what are you going to do? Would you like to call the police?”

I stood there like a bump on a log.

He waited.

“No, of course not,” I said at last. “Why would I do that?”

“Rich assaulted you.” He lifted the pistol. “With a deadly weapon.”

I looked at him in genuine confusion. After a moment I wiped blood from my brow and cheek. It didn’t show any signs of stopping, and I already felt a throbbing ache behind my eye.

“Well?”

“No,” I snapped irritably, “I don’t want to call the police.”

He twitched an eyebrow.

“I… might’ve deserved it.”

“You can say that again. What were you thinking? Never mind. I can guess.”

I squared my shoulders and looked him in the eye. “Nothing happened.

We fell asleep. That’s all.” So it was a little white lie. Okay, maybe a big one.

“Even if that’s true, you’ve put me in an awkward position, son. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry. I’ll leave if you want me to.”

“And what if I ask you to stop seeing my daughter?”

“We both know you won’t.”

He shook his head in frustration. “You and your damned logic.”

“I’m so mad right now I wouldn’t know logic if it bit me in the ass.”

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t. But you’re right, I won’t ask you to stop seeing Birdy. I won’t ask you to leave, either.”

The door to the house opened. He grew angry but then relaxed when he saw who it was.

“Is everything all right?” Anne asked.

Christy appeared behind her. Her eyes widened when she saw the blood.

“Harold, he’s hurt,” Anne said. She turned to her daughter. “Go get the first aid kit. And an old towel. The bottle of peroxide, too.”

Christy turned and ran into the house with a flash of red flannel.

Anne moved to her husband’s side. “Are you all right?”

“Me?” he said. “I’m fine. Just thinking through my options.”

“Why don’t you talk to Rich? He was packing his things. I don’t think he should leave.”

“You’re right,” Harold said. He looked down at the pistol. Then he looked at me. “Son, I don’t think you understand how close you came…” He took a calming breath and let it out slowly. “Rich is very dangerous. He’s highly trained and capable of…” He gestured at my bleeding face. “Well, violence.”

“So am I.”

“With all due respect, son,” he said with a healthy dose of irony, “you’re bleeding and he isn’t.” He let his words sink in. “Give Rich a wide berth for a while. Okay? Just a friendly word of advice, man to man.”

I started to say something sarcastic but thought better of it. “Yes, sir,” I said instead. “And I’m sorry.”

Anne didn’t clear her throat. She didn’t make a sound, in fact.

Harold looked at me in silent appraisal. “Well, you aren’t a coward. But you aren’t very bright, either.” He looked at his wife. “I’ll go talk to Rich before he does anything else stupid.”

She nodded.

He almost ran into Christy on his way into the house.

She looked at him fearfully and then glanced at me.

“Birdy,” he told her, “you have the damnedest taste in men. I haven’t decided if I like this one or not, but at least he isn’t a pantywaist. He may be an idiot, but he has balls.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Jesus Christ!”

Anne winced.

“I did not sign up for this shit,” he finished. Then he stepped past Christy and closed the door behind him.

Anne told me to sit down as Christy handed her the first aid kit.

“Just a sec,” I said. Then I walked to the door to the yard, opened it, and calmly threw up.

Rich and I didn’t even glance at each other over breakfast. Christy looked suitably chastised as well, but no one said a thing about what had happened.

And when Jim asked how I got the cut over my eye—which now sported butterfly closures under a gauze bandage—I told him I’d tripped during my run and hit a bench.

Harry and Marianne arrived with John, who went to play with his cousins. Jim told them the accident story with a chuckle. I faked a laugh and said I needed to be more careful.

My tension slowly lessened as the day wore on. Rich ignored me and acted like nothing had happened. Danny and Terry did the same. The women and girls went shopping after lunch, while the men and boys gathered around

the television to watch the Army-Navy football game.

Navy scored on the opening kickoff and then completely dominated Army for the rest of the game, so everyone was in a good mood over dinner.

After dessert Jim suggested a game of Florida Rummy.

“If you gents don’t mind,” Danny said to his father and brothers, “I’m going to take my bride-to-be for a walk on the beach.”

“Be our guest,” his father said.

“You’d’ve lost anyway,” Harry teased.

“Badly,” Jim added.

“It’s a lovely evening,” Anne said to Sabrina. “You might take a blanket with you.”

Danny perked up immediately. “That’s a great idea, Mom. Thanks!”

Anne glanced at Christy with an expectant smile.

Christy’s brow knitted, and I had to smother a grin. Her head shot up when she figured it out. She looked at me hopefully.

Harold followed the glances and unspoken questions, but he didn’t say anything.

Marianne followed too. She grinned and winked at me.

“Mind if we join you?” I asked Danny.

“No, come on.”

“Christine, dear,” Anne said, “let’s get a couple of blankets so you can sit on the dunes.”

The air was cool and the sky clear, a beautiful southern California evening. I held the heavy blanket over my arm as we walked behind Danny and Sabrina. Christy held my other hand and swung it gently.

“Sorry about this morning,” I said to Danny.

“I told you, Rich is mean.”

“Danny, be nice,” Christy chided.

“What happened?” Sabrina asked. She turned and looked at me. “You didn’t hit your eye on a bench, did you?”

“Rich and I had… a bit of a disagreement.”

“Birdy fell asleep with Paul,” Danny explained. “Rich came to wake us to go for a run and found them together. Things sort of got crazy after that.”

“Bit of an understatement,” I said.

“I thought you were going to fight him,” Danny said with a chuckle.

“That’s exactly what I was going to do.”

“No offense,” he said, “but he’d’ve kicked your ass. Or worse.”

“Don’t be so sure. I can fight. Judo, boxing, wrestling… take your pick.”

“That’s nice,” he said dismissively. “Do you know what Rich does? In the Navy, I mean.”

“He’s some sort of diver, right?” I glanced at Christy for confirmation.

“Underwater demolition?”

Danny laughed, low and grim. “In a manner of speaking. He’s a SEAL.”

“A what?”

“Sea, Air, Land. SEAL. Navy special forces. So he’s basically a trained killer. Suits him perfectly, if you ask me.”

“Did you know that?” I asked Christy.

She nodded and looked guilty. “He doesn’t like us to talk about it, though.”

“What he does isn’t secret,” Danny said, “but they do a lot of clandestine operations. Real cloak and dagger stuff. So they don’t advertise who they are.”

“Holy crap,” I said softly.

“Yeah,” Danny agreed. “Think twice next time you get the bright idea to fight Rich.”

“Thanks for the tip,” I said, with only a hint of sarcasm.

“I tried to tell you,” he said lightly.

“I thought you were kidding.”

“I never kid,” he said. “Except when I do.”

We walked along in silence until we reached the park that paralleled the shore.

“Bonfire down the beach,” Danny said as we crossed the grass. “Looks like a party. You guys wanna check it out?”

The party was about fifty locals, mostly high school and college kids, as well as a group of middle-aged adults who looked like they were trying to be former hippies instead of the wealthy suburbanites they actually were. They mostly sat in beach chairs at the edge of the firelight. One of them had a big boom box playing a local radio station, and plenty of coolers were scattered through the crowd.

Danny fit in immediately. He asked around and found an older surfer guy

willing to sell a styrofoam cooler full of ice and about a dozen bottles of a Mexican beer, Pacífico. Danny pulled out cash and gave it to him before I could chip in.

“You want any smoke to go with it?” the guy asked. “It’s primo dope.”

“Nah, we’re cool,” Danny said. “Thanks for the brews.”

“No problem. Peace out, man.”

“Peace.” Danny opened the cooler and uncapped bottles as he handed them to us.

Someone called to Christy from a knot of people. Several of them came toward us. They were friends of hers from high school, and she introduced me as “my friend, Paul.”

I faded into the background as she chatted about people I didn’t know.

“I thought you were officially dating,” Danny said quietly.

“Long story,” I said.

“So are you or aren’t you?”

“Let’s say it’s unofficial.”

“Well, you did sleep with her last night.”

“And that’s all we did.”

He laughed and waved away my denial. “Relax. Birdy isn’t a kid.

Besides, I’m not my dad. Yeah, I look out for her—we all do—but you’re good for her. So we’re cool, you and I.”

Sabrina nodded agreement and smiled.

Christy said goodbye to her friends and they returned to their group.

“You wanna spread the blankets?” I asked Danny.

“Let’s move away from the party a bit,” he said. “If you know what I mean.”

“Ah. Right. Got it.” I handed my beer to Christy. Then I picked up our blanket and the other one as well.

“Thanks,” Danny said. He picked up the cooler and headed into the darkness.

We walked a few hundred yards farther down the beach and stopped at a dark and quiet stretch. We could still hear strains of music from the direction of the bonfire, but the sound of the surf mostly drowned it out.

“This spot’s as good as any,” Danny said. He set the cooler on the sand and helped me spread one of the blankets. “Hey, honey,” he said to Sabrina,

“grab a couple of beers for us, would you?” He glanced at me. “You okay to guard the cooler?”

“With my life.”

He chuckled and nodded toward the dunes. “I think we’re gonna find a quiet spot over there.”

“Sounds good.”

They disappeared into the night.

Christy sat cross-legged on the blanket. I joined her and accepted my beer. The breeze from the ocean picked up and ruffled my hair. Hers blew in her face, and she tucked it behind an ear.

“Are you warm enough?” I asked. She scooted closer, so I put an arm around her.

“Better now,” she said.

We drank our beers in silence and simply enjoyed the sound of the surf.

“I’m sorry about this morning,” she said eventually. “I didn’t know what to do, so I went to find my dad.”

“I figured.”

“Does your eye still hurt?”

“Yeah, but I’ll live. Gonna have a nice shiner, though.”

“I’m so sorry.”

I shrugged.

“Rich is just… very protective.”

Not to mention homicidal, I thought grimly. Or would that be fratricidal?

“What?” she asked softly.

“Nothing.” I decided to change the subject. “Thanks for… um… you know… covering me up this morning.”

“What?”

“When you tucked me back in my shorts.”

“Oh, that.” She laughed. “He wasn’t ready for his big debut.”

“Um, no.”

“It would’ve been kind of awkward. I mean, he’d’ve made a speech, talked to people, posed for pictures. You know, all that stuff.”

I laughed.

“He isn’t normally shy, though, is he?”

“No. Definitely not shy.”

“Still, I don’t think my dad and brothers would appreciate him like I do.”

“So… you appreciate him?”

“Oh, yes,” she said. “He’s very handsome.”

“How would you know?”

“I’ve seen him,” she said defensively.

“But never in all his glory.”

“No, but I’ve felt him.” She grinned. “He feels very handsome.”

I chuckled at a thought.

“What?”

“Did you ever think, two months ago, that we’d be calmly having a conversation about my johnson?”

“Your penis, you mean? He likes to be called by his proper name.”

I laughed. “Oh he does, does he?”

“Mmm hmm. He told me so. Last night when we met.”

“Well, he’s very glad you were around this morning.” I kissed the top of her head. “His owner is too.”

“I was kinda scared you wouldn’t be,” she admitted seriously.

“Rich and I will figure out a way to deal with each other. We don’t have much choice.”

She looked up at me, her eyes searching.

“We should probably make it official, though. You and me.”

She grew very still with anticipation.

It seemed like an overreaction until I realized that she probably thought I was going to propose. I laughed softly. “No, not like that.”

“Oh, no! I wasn’t thinking that. I mean… I never—”

“It’s okay. I’ve thought about it too.”

She looked up at me again, this time in surprise. “You have?”

“Yeah, of course. I guess it’s been in the back of my mind since the Halloween party.”

“Really?”

“Mmm hmm. Besides, I think of it every time you tease me about ‘not until we’re married.’”

“I’m really sorry about that. I’ll stop saying it if it bothers you.”

“It doesn’t. It’s kinda cute. Besides, it gives me a chance to remind you that things are gonna happen between us long before we’re married.”

“You sound so confident.”

“I am. I mean, I’ll be honest, one of the reasons I fought so hard when Wren started trying to get us together was my experiences last spring. I dated one girl who was a serious Catholic prick-tease. She liked to flirt. And she dropped plenty of hints about sex, but she blocked me every time I tried to make a move. Told me she wasn’t ‘that kind of girl.’”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I was pretty annoyed. And not just ’cause I had a three-week case of blue balls. She was one big husband trap, all mixed messages and head games. But I guess what really annoyed me was that she equated sex with being dirty. Like she’d condescend to do it, but only for her husband.

“And when Wren started matchmaking with you and me, that’s what I thought you were like. It was totally unfair, and I see that now, but at the time all I could think of was the girl I dated and how her being Catholic was the reason she had a screwed-up attitude about sex.

“But you aren’t really like that, are you?” I looked down at her. “I mean, we’ve been flirting for weeks, but you aren’t throwing up a wall and saying,

‘I’m not that kind of girl. I’m saving myself for marriage.’”

“But I sort of am.”

“You didn’t with Simon.”

She looked down and picked at the label on her beer bottle. After a moment she said, “But he was my fiancé.”

“Well, if you want me to be your boyfriend, we’re going to have sex. It’s not a question of ‘if,’ but ‘when?’”

“But are you? My boyfriend?”

“That’s what I meant by making it official. So… are we? Boyfriend-girlfriend?”

“I dunno,” she said shyly. “Do you want to be?”

“Do you?”

“You know I do.”

“So do I. And now I guess it’s official.”

She beamed up at me, so I kissed her, long and lingering.

“Well, that was easy,” I said after. It even seemed a bit anticlimactic, but we’d been building up to it for a while. “Should we celebrate?”

“How?”

“Wild sex on the beach? Run naked through the surf?”

She laughed. “It’s a little cold.”

“Dammit! I knew there was a flaw in my plan. How ’bout another beer instead?”

“I’d like that.” She smiled and mused, “A beer with my new boyfriend.”

“Kinda has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“I do.” She beat me to the punchline. “I know! Not yet.”

I reached into the cooler and pulled out two fresh bottles. We clinked

them together.

After we drank I said, “I meant what I said earlier. About things happening before we’re married.”

“What if I say no? What if I want to wait till we’re married?”

I looked at her and tried to decide how serious she was. Not if she was serious, but how much. A small part of her was still trying to be the good Catholic girl she thought she ought to be.

“In that case,” I said judiciously, “I’d tell you that sex is too important to leave to chance. I’m not going to marry anyone until I know we’re compatible in bed.”

“But can’t you just look at someone and know if they’re right for you?”

“I’ve dated girls I felt that way about. Took one look at ’em and knew we were right for each other.” I snorted. “That’s called ‘lust,’ and it doesn’t always turn into a committed relationship. Besides, sex and love are completely different things.”

“Don’t be silly. No they aren’t.”

“Yes, they are. I love Trip like a brother, but I don’t wanna have sex with him. I had sex with Gracie, but I didn’t love her.” Christy stiffened with annoyance. “Sorry,” I said quickly. “I should’ve chosen a different example.”

“Do we have to talk about your exes?”

“Yeah, we kinda do. Because they affect you and me. Same way your exes affect us. We don’t have to go into details, but hiding from our past isn’t the way to move forward. I had a life before you. I had lovers. You had a life before me. Lovers too.” I laughed softly at a thought. “One of them is still in your life.”

“Who? Simon?”

“No, Wren.”

“Oh. Her.”

“Mmm hmm. ‘Her.’” I sat quietly for a moment. “She loves you, you know.”

She nodded a bit glumly.

“What? You don’t love her back?”

She debated and then shook her head.

“You’re a lousy liar.” I chuckled. I stared into the distance and decided what to say next. “My mother has a lover,” I said, very quietly. “Like you and Wren. They were apart for a while, but I don’t think they ever stopped loving each other.”

“What does your father think? Does he know?”

“That’s a much longer story, but yes, he knows.”

“And he doesn’t care?”

“He cares very much… about my mother’s happiness.” I looked down at her to see if she’d made the connection. Just in case, I said, “That’s how I care about you.”

She nodded and wiped a tear from her cheek.

“So it’s okay if you love Wren.”

“You aren’t jealous?”

“Not at all. Love isn’t some finite quantity.” I laughed gently. “You won’t run out. And you don’t need to save it for marriage or anything.”

“That’s good,” she said with a teary laugh.

“You don’t need to save anything else for marriage either.”

“But what if I want to?”

“I’m not talking about going all the way tonight.” I laughed and hugged her. “We’ll take things slow. Baby steps. And I never thought I’d say this, but…”

“Yes?” she said when the silence drew out.

“I’m kind of looking forward to the slow buildup.” Besides, I still had a lot to tell her about myself and my lifestyle. She wouldn’t change overnight.

So I had to take things slow if I didn’t want to risk losing her.

“You really don’t mind?”

“Part of me does,” I said honestly, “but I’ll give him some attention later.”

She grinned and rolled her eyes.

“Until then, I think we should celebrate our new relationship.”

“Oh? How?”

“Let me demonstrate.” I kissed her, and she sighed as I eased her back to the blanket. “How’s that?”

“Too soon to tell. You’d better try again.”

“My pleasure.”

We kissed slowly and let the heat build. Then I moved my hand to her stomach and watched her expression. She gazed up at me calmly, so I lifted her sweater and pulled her thin blouse from the waistband of her jeans. I stopped when she hissed.

“It’s okay,” she said quickly. “Only, your hand’s cold.”

“Do you want me to take it away?”

She searched my eyes.

“It’s much warmer in here,” I said. When she still didn’t say anything, I eased my hand up her stomach. I found the catch of her bra and popped it.

Then I chuckled. “That’s twice.”

Her brow furrowed.

“I keep getting lucky with your bras. This one and the other one close in front. They can’t all be like that.”

“They aren’t.” She laughed softly. “But a lot of ’em are. I’m so small up top.”

“You aren’t small,” I said as my hand closed on the soft flesh of her breast.

“You’re just saying that ’cause you wanna cop a feel.”

“I’m already copping a feel,” I said. “So why would I lie?”

“I thought all guys like big boobs. My brothers do.”

“You mind if I talk about a couple of my exes for a moment?”

She frowned at the non sequitur.

“I’ve been with girls who were nearly flat-chested and ones who were double D’s, and d’you know what I liked best?”

“Lemme guess,” she said sarcastically, “the bi—”

“The ones in my hand.”

Her eyebrows flew up.

“Big or small, round or flat, perky or saggy… the only thing I care about is, ‘Can I touch ’em?’”

She laughed in spite of herself.

“So,” I said with a raised eyebrow, “can I touch ’em?”

She rolled her eyes. “You already are.”

“Then they’re my favorites!”

“Guys will say anything to get lucky, won’t they?”

“I got lucky the moment I met you.” I looked into her eyes. “Everything else is just icing on the cake.”

She drew me down for a kiss. When we finally came up for air, I slid my hand out from under her sweater and rested it on the button of her jeans. I arched an eyebrow and waited, but she didn’t push me away.

I popped open her jeans and lowered the zipper. Then I eased my now-warm hand into her panties. I grinned down at her. “Copping a feel was just a pretense. I really wanted to get my hand warm before I… you know… made a move.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“Completely. Small packages are very sensitive. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I just poked around with cold fingers?” I grinned down at her and then kissed her gently. “Some packages are best when you take your time and finesse them open.”

“I’ve been finessed, all right!” But she laughed.

“You want me to stop?”

“You know I don’t. That’s what’s so infuriating about you.”

“Oh?”

“You always make it so easy for me to do what you want.”

“That’s ’cause you want it too.” I waited, but she didn’t deny it, so I slid my hand deeper into the warmth between her legs. Dampness greeted my fingers as soon as I touched her cleft. “See? You can’t fake that. You can’t stop it either. It’s like my hard-on. It just happens when I’m excited.”

“Mmm, it does.”

“At least you can hide yours.”

“I can’t hide anything from you,” she said breathlessly.

She fell silent as I began moving the tips of my fingers in small circles over her clit. Her breathing grew heavier and heavier until she arched her back and stifled a cry. She caught her breath and gazed up at me as her orgasm subsided.

I withdrew my hand from her panties. Then I held her eyes and tasted my fingertips. Her nostrils flared. She seemed almost mesmerized, so I grinned and offered her my finger. She sucked gently at first, but then she pulled it deeper into her mouth.

“You like sucking things, don’t you?” I whispered.

She nodded and moaned deep in her throat.

“Anything else you’d like to suck?”

She moaned again.

“That’s good,” I said with a soft laugh. “I have nine more just like it.”

Her eyes popped open in disbelief.

I gently pulled my finger from her hungry lips. Then I kissed her, deep and long.

She was breathing hard when I finally pulled back.

“Baby steps,” I said softly.

She thought about it for a moment and nodded.

I kissed her again and then slid my hand under her sweater. She closed

her eyes and relaxed as I caressed her nipples. We made out until we heard Danny’s voice in the distance. I pushed up on my elbow and cocked an ear to listen.

“Where are you guys?” he called again.

“Time to be a proper young lady again,” I said to Christy. Then I raised my voice, “Here!”

Her eyes flew wide. She pushed me away and hastily buttoned her jeans as I sat up and adjusted my hard-on. I grinned down at her, but she was distracted trying to refasten her bra. She finally had to hike up her shirt and sweater. I was hoping for a glimpse of her breasts, but it was too dark. Her bunched sweater blocked my view anyway.

“Call out again!” Danny shouted from closer.

“Over here!” I stood so he could see me easier. It also gave me a chance to ease the pressure on my swollen manhood.

“All right, I have visual!”

They rejoined us and sank to the blanket. Sabrina looked slightly mussed and very happy indeed.

“The wind’s picked up,” Danny said. “Kinda chilly.”

“Especially on bare skin,” I joked.

“How old are you again?”

We grinned at each other.

“You want another beer?” he asked Sabrina.

“No, thanks. I’m still a little chilled.”

“You ready to go home?”

“Not if you keep me warm.”

“Best idea you’ve had all night,” he said. “Well, second best.”

She grinned as he pulled a beer from the cooler and then scooted behind her. He put his arms around her, and she leaned back against him.

I looked at Christy and raised an eyebrow.

“Best idea you’ve had all night,” she said. Then she grinned. “Well, second best.”

Danny laughed. “Good one, Sis.”

He had no idea.

Christy scooted between my legs. I pulled her close and wrapped my arms around her. Then I glanced down at my watch.

“Moonrise in about half an hour,” I said. “Y’all wanna stay out and watch?”

Danny pushed a button on his watch. The face glowed.

“Will your mom care if we stay out past midnight?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Not as long as you’re with us.”

“So you’re our chaperones?” I said without rancor.

“Sort of. Mom made me swear. Sorry, Birdy.”

“Some chaperones you are,” I teased. “You left us alone the first chance you got.” But then I thought about it. “Oh, she’s good.”

“Who?”

“Your mom.”

“Well, yeah, but… how do you mean?”

“She knew exactly what you and Sabrina would do.”

“He’s probably right,” Sabrina said.

“She even suggested we take the blankets.”

“Hold on,” Danny said. “Are you saying that Mom sent us out here on purpose? To… you know… go off by ourselves?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. She was young once,” I added. “She knows what it’s like.”

“Yeah. I guess you’re right. I just never thought about her like that.”

’Cause you didn’t grow up like I did, I thought wryly, with Susan and Elizabeth and my mom pulling the strings. It also meant that Anne had known what Christy and I would be up to while Danny and Sabrina were off having sex on their own.

“Do you really think she did it on purpose?” Christy asked.

“Yep. She’s a pretty smart lady, your mom.”

“You can say that again,” Danny said.

“She’s a pretty smart lady, your mom.”

Christy looked at me and rolled her eyes.

Danny stared into the night and said, “Well, I’ll be…,” as the realization sank in.

The house was dark and quiet when we returned. We came in through the screen porch. Something seemed odd, but I didn’t figure it out until too late.

The girls had just walked into the house when a wicker chair creaked in the darkness behind me. I spun and dropped into a defensive stance. Rich

stood silhouetted against the moonlit yard beyond the screens.

“Rich…?” Danny said cautiously.

“Just go inside, Danny,” he said. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“It kinda does. Mom’ll be upset if you kill him. Dad too. Not to mention Birdy. Besides, I’ll have to find a new place to sleep.”

“Everything’s a joke to you, isn’t it?”

“You’re serious enough for the whole family.”

“All right,” Rich said slowly. “If I give you my word, will that be enough?”

“Your word?” Danny said, confirmation rather than question.

“I already gave it to Mom. But if you want…”

“Nah. That’s good enough for me. Come on girls,” he said to them, “the big dogs wanna bark at each other through the fence.”

“Rich…?” Christy said.

“Get her inside,” Rich said to Danny. “And turn on the light.”

Danny gave me an all-too-cheery wave before he hustled the girls into the house. He closed the door without a second glance and turned on the light a moment later.

I faced Rich and readied for a fight. He swung a right and I blocked it without even thinking.

“Relax, shit stain,” he said. He reached up again, and I realized he wasn’t trying to hit me. He put his hand on my temple with his thumb above the bandage on my brow.

“Keep your fucking hands off me.” I batted him away again.

“Suit yourself.” He nodded at my wound. “Keep it clean. Use Vaseline to keep it moist, and keep it covered with a bandage. It shouldn’t scar.”

“No thanks to you.” I felt my anger rising but kept it in check.

He looked at me and laughed. “You think you’re so tough…”

“You wanna find out?” I shot back. “Let’s go a few rounds without your gun.”

He simply laughed again.

“What, this is funny?”

“No, it’s a fucking disgrace,” he said at last.

“Yeah, well, fuck you too.”

“Aw, now you’ve done it,” he mocked. “You’ve gone and hurt my feelings.”

“Is there something you wanna tell me? Or are you just jerking off with

this macho bullshit?”

He surprised me with a laugh. “I’ll have to remember that. ‘Jerking off with this macho bullshit…’ That’s good.” Then all of a sudden he grew serious. “I don’t like you. But you’re a smart kid, so you probably figured that out.”

“The feeling’s mutual.”

“That’s fine. I don’t care whether you like me or not. All I care about is Birdy.”

“Gee,” I said sarcastically, “I never saw that coming.”

“Laugh all you like. But if you hurt her, I hurt you. Are we clear?”

The door to the house opened and Christy’s voice came through.

“Let me go, Danny! No! Let— me— go!” A hundred pounds of blonde fury stormed out of the house. She stopped when she saw Rich and me in seemingly polite conversation.

Rich actually smiled at me. “I’m glad we could clear that up,” he said, his voice deliberately light.

“Rich…,” Christy began. She stomped her foot to get his attention. “What did you—?”

“Relax, Birdy,” he told her. “Everything’s cool. We were just having a chat to clear the air.”

“Paul?”

I made a snap decision. “Yeah,” I said, and matched his tone, “just clearing the air.”

“Okay,” he said with a soft laugh that wasn’t quite a threat. He turned to Christy. “See? No trouble.”

She wasn’t convinced.

He bent and kissed her forehead. “I love you, Sis,” he said softly. “I only want what’s best for you.”

“I love you too.” She looked from him to me and back again.

“Time for me to hit the rack.” He glanced at me and said, “PT in the morning?”

He was messing with my head and I knew it, but I decided to go along.

“Any time.”

“All right. See you in the morning.” He moved past Danny and went into the house.

“Now you’ve done it,” Danny said. “You made him like you.”

“Lucky me,” I said. Can I have a pet scorpion instead?

I was already awake and dressed when the door from the house opened. I was sitting in the same chair Rich had used the night before. I’d been sitting there an hour. I didn’t have a clue what I was going to do, but I was ready for a fight if it came to that.

A dark silhouette came out of the house. He moved smoothly and didn’t make a sound. He bent over the couch and shook Danny’s shoulder.

“Wake up. Time for PT.”

“Yeah, okay,” Danny said groggily.

Rich moved to my cot. His eyes weren’t adjusted to the dark like mine, so he had to feel around before he realized it was empty. He dropped to a crouch and scanned the dark porch.

“I’m awake.”

His gaze fixed on me. “What, you don’t trust me?”

“Would you?” I scoffed.

“Probably smart.” He straightened. “But I gave my word. Just remember what I told you.”

“Jeez, Rich,” Danny said as he sat up, “isn’t it a bit early for the badass routine?”

“It’s never too early to be a badass. Train like you fight, fight like you train. Now get your ass up. The kid’s ready to go. Why aren’t you?”

“The kid doesn’t have the sense to sleep when he can.”

“Paul,” I said as I stood. “My name is Paul.”

They both ignored me, much to my annoyance.

“Five minutes,” Rich said to his brother.

“No surprises this morning?” Terry asked as he joined us from the house.

“No Birdy this morning,” Rich said. “Besides, the kid was already awake.

Waiting for me, too, ambush-style.”

“For real?” Terry looked at me. “Good for you.”

“Will you guys take the love-fest outside and let me get dressed?” Danny said.

“Sure.” Rich looked at his watch. “Four minutes. Chop-chop.”

I followed Rich and Terry outside and started stretching. Danny joined us a few minutes later. Once we were all warmed up, we walked to the street.

Rich checked his watch and glanced at me. “How far do you run?”

“Farther than you,” I said.

He chuckled without looking up. Then he pushed a button. “All right, let’s move out.”

I thought he’d try to outrun me, but he settled into a distance-eating pace.

We ran for an hour in silence before Danny spoke up.

“That’s enough for me,” he said. “Have fun with your pissing contest, gents.”

Rich simply nodded as Danny peeled off and headed toward the house.

He took it for granted that he was tougher than his brother.

Terry glanced at me. “You good?”

“I’m good.”

“Hooyah.”

I felt I’d earned a bit of respect, if not exactly friendship.

We ran another half-hour before Terry checked his watch. “Any time, Rich,” he said. “This isn’t Hell Week.”

“You head home if you want,” Rich said. “I’m still good to go.”

“Copy that,” Terry said. He angled across the street and turned into the neighborhood.

“I can keep this up all day,” I said to Rich.

“So can I.”

We fell silent and pushed on, each too stubborn to quit before the other.

We probably would have run ourselves to death if Christy and her mother hadn’t intervened. The sun had been up about an hour when we spotted them coming toward us. Rich seemed ready to run right past them, but his mother wasn’t having it.

“Rich! Paul!” She waved.

Rich glared at me sideways, and for the first time I actually felt sorry for the guy. He couldn’t fight his mother, so I decided to cut him some slack.

“On the count of three?” I said.

He chuckled with actual amusement. “Sure.”

“Three… two… one… mark.”

We slowed at exactly the same time. I was a bit surprised. I thought he’d keep running a second or two longer than I did, but he played it straight.

He pressed a button on his watch.

I looked at mine. “Fifteen miles?”

“About that,” he agreed.

We reached Christy and her mother.

“I was hoping we’d run into you,” Anne said. “Will you walk with us?”

“We’d be delighted, mother dear,” Rich said. He wasn’t breathing any heavier than I was.

I stopped at a water fountain and drank a few sips, just enough to wet my mouth.

“Not too much,” Rich cautioned.

I glared in irritation. “Yeah, I know.”

“Relax.” He drank about a mouthful.

“Did you boys have a good run?” Anne asked as we started walking.

We chatted about random things for the next thirty minutes. Rich and I stopped at several water fountains and slowly rehydrated ourselves, and our unofficial truce held as we finished a circuit of the walking path.

The rest of the morning was fairly low-key, and after lunch we played a game of touch football. It was a tradition, and everyone but Anne played, even the little kids. Harold and Danny were the quarterbacks, and the rest of us played with varying degrees of seriousness. The Carmichael men?

Competitive to the core. The women in the family? Mostly there to have fun with the kids.

Dinner was a less-formal repeat of Thanksgiving, with plenty of food and wide-ranging conversation. I learned that Marianne’s father was on the Board of Trustees at the Baltimore Museum of Art. Terry surprised us both when he said that his mother was a working artist in Santa Fe. The three of us and Christy had a surprisingly interesting conversation about everything from Matisse and Cézanne to Southwestern arts and crafts.

The playing cards came out after dinner, and I almost won the first game of Florida. Harry edged me out by two lousy points. I did middling-well in the second game, much to Harold’s disgust. He was sitting on my left, and I never discarded anything he could use. His draws weren’t any better, and he came in dead last.

“Well,” he said after Jim read out the scores, “I know when to quit while I’m not so far ahead. Gentlemen, let’s take our drinks and retire to the living room.”

The women were chatting there with drinks of their own. Jim gathered Lynne with a gesture, and they sat at the piano together. He played softly, while she leaned with her back against his shoulder and sipped her wine in quiet contentment. Everyone was in a relaxed mood, even Rich, who joined Sabrina on the floor to look through fashion magazines with the older girls.

I was feeling a little woozy from drinking too much whiskey too quickly,

and also a little overwhelmed by the perfect people around me.

“You wanna go for a walk?” I asked Christy quietly. She was sitting on the arm of my chair with her drink balanced on her knee. She immediately sensed that something was wrong.

“Um… sure. Let me get a sweater.”

I set my glass aside and stood a bit unsteadily.

“I think we’re gonna go for a walk,” I told Danny, who was talking with Marianne on the couch next to me.

“To the beach?” he asked. “You want company?”

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“No and yes. In that order. I think we’re just gonna walk around the block. I need to clear my head.”

Marianne glanced at my empty glass and then my eyes. She understood immediately. “It takes a bit of getting used to, doesn’t it?”

I nodded.

“What?” Danny asked.

“All the booze,” she told him. “Your family drinks like fish. I think I was tipsy the entire first Christmas I spent with the Carmichael clan.” She laughed softly. “I’m pretty sure that’s when Virginia was conceived.”

He actually turned pink, and I had to force myself not to smile. Christy looked exactly the same when she blushed.

Christy herself returned wearing her sweater and carrying my jacket.

Outside, the cold air did wonders for my fuzzy head. We set off hand-in-hand and walked in silence for ten minutes or so.

“Better?” she said eventually.

“Much. Thanks.”

“I guess I forget how much we drink sometimes. It’s just so natural for me. Part of who we are.”

“Well,” I admitted, “I was also feeling a little overwhelmed.”

“Why? What’s the matter?”

“Your family. How do I put this? They’re all so… perfect.”

That wasn’t what she thought I was going to say. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s start with Danny. He looks like the actor who plays him in the movie of his life. And he’s engaged to a supermodel.”

“Sabrina isn’t a supermodel.”

“But she’s still a model.”

“Well, yes, but not like Cheryl Tiegs or Christie Brinkley or anything.”

“Still, most models never make it into magazines like Cosmopolitan and Elle.”

“So?”

I ignored the question and continued, “Jim is a seriously good pianist, like professional. Not to mention that he and Lynne are both really good-looking.

Harry is on the fast track to be an admiral, and Marianne is one of the most cultured, elegant women I’ve ever met. On top of that, she’s actually warm and friendly.”

“She is,” Christy admitted. “I’m totally jealous of her sometimes.”

“Even Rich is at the top of his game. I mean, he’s probably the only one of you who isn’t model handsome, but he isn’t ugly. And Danny makes it sound like SEALs are even more selective than aviation. Believe me, I grew up in a Navy family, so I know that pilots think they’re the best of the best.”

“Well… of course. They are.”

“Exactly. Which brings us to your father. He’s at the top of the pyramid.

Fighter pilot. Ship captain. Admiral. And your mother’s probably the only woman who makes Marianne seem plain by comparison. Then there’s you,” I said at last.

“What about me?”

“Well, for starters, you’re insanely talented. You’re also pint-sized gorgeous, really smart, and funny too. And to hear Wren tell it, you’re a total nympho who’s gonna rock my world in bed.”

“I’m gonna wring her neck,” she said under her breath.

I laughed but then grew serious again. “I guess I’m wondering what the hell I’m doing with your family. I mean, what could I possibly bring to the party?”

“We aren’t perfect,” she said. “Well, except my mom and dad. They are.”

“They aren’t really,” I said. “You just have rose-colored glasses where they’re concerned. I don’t know what their flaws are, but I’m sure they have

’em, even if they’re only minor. Your dad probably doesn’t use his turn signals or something. Maybe your mom squeezes the toothpaste in the middle.”

“You’re probably right,” Christy said with a laugh. “But the others definitely have flaws.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

She thought about it for a long time and nodded to herself as she went from one brother to the next.

“Okay, I got it,” she said at last. “Here goes. Harry doesn’t ever do what he wants. I mean, he does, but not about big things. He does exactly what Dad wants him to. And James has always been in his shadow. Harry went to the Academy; James didn’t. Harry flies jets; James flies helicopters. He’s always resented Harry, so he stopped trying to compete with him. I think that’s why he put so much time into the piano, because Harry isn’t musical at all.

“Danny never takes anything seriously,” she went on, “which really bugs the rest of us sometimes. He makes everything into a joke when he doesn’t know what to do. Rich takes things the other direction. He’s so serious that it drives the rest of us crazy. And he has a bad habit of scaring my boyfriends.

That’s why you’re the first guy I wasn’t really nervous about bringing home.”

“Yeah,” I admitted, “Rich scares the crap out of me when I have time to think about it. But when he gets in my face, something just snaps inside me. I get mad instead of scared.”

“You get this look in your eye. Like when I told you I wasn’t going to sleep with you.”

“You just have to keep bringing that up.”

“I’m sorry. I won’t—”

“It’s fine. I’m mostly teasing. I think we moved past it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. So… what about it?”

She gave me one more look, like she still wasn’t convinced I was okay.

Then she continued, “You get this look, like you’re never, ever going to back down. That’s why I gave your expression to the replicant. It was… I dunno…

like…”

“Indomitable.”

“Exactly! So I knew Rich wouldn’t scare you off. He did that to pretty much every other guy I dated. He’d meet ’em on holidays or when he came home from the Academy. It was worst when he was in SEAL school.” She looked up at me to gauge my reaction to what she said next. “I think that’s part of the reason I… you know… with girls.”

I nodded. “Wren said you’ve had a steady girlfriend since you were thirteen.”

“I’m totally gonna wring her neck when we get home. Remind me, okay?”

“Okay,” I said with a laugh.

“But… yeah. Rich really bugs me sometimes. It’s like he doesn’t want me to grow up and have a life.”

I hesitated and then asked, “What about Laurence?”

She was silent for a long time, and I thought she might not answer at all.

“I know this is gonna sound like wishful thinking,” she said eventually,

“especially since I pretty much idolized him, but… he really was perfect. He was the best of us.”

“Danny said the same thing. That he was the best of you.”

“It’s what our dad said at his funeral. It’s the only time I’ve ever seen him cry.”

I nodded and we walked in silence for a while.

“I wish you could’ve met him.”

“I wish I could’ve too. But I’ll be honest, he probably would’ve intimidated me.”

“I don’t think so. He wasn’t like that. He was a lot like Danny, except he knew when to be serious.” She laughed. “And if you think Danny is good-looking, I’ll have to show you pictures of Laurence sometime. He was, like, oh my gosh!”

I heard something in her voice and shot her a covert look. Was it more than just sisterly affection? Like Erin and me?

“You remind me of him,” she said. “Not your face, but the rest of you, your general shape. You’re sort of like him in other ways, like how you’re really optimistic about things. You’re a lot moodier than he was, though. But I think he’d’ve liked you.”

She laughed at a memory. “He had this thing he used to do, when someone was feeling down. He’d tell them things he liked about them. And he made it sound like he was jealous of them. I know it sounds like he was fake about it, but he wasn’t. I think he really saw the best in people and admired them for it.”

“Like you,” I said, “when you were talking about my buildings and how you thought it was easy until you tried to draw them?”

“Yeah, exactly! I did the same thing and didn’t even know it! I must’ve learned it from Laurie.”

“If I had to guess, you both learned it from your mom.”

“I dunno,” she said. “Our mom’s pretty positive, but she’s more behind the scenes. Our dad’s the one who’s in-your-face about things. But you made me think about what Laurie used to do, so lemme see if I can answer your

original question.”

“Which was?”

“Yeah,” she said with a laugh, “we’ve talked about a lot since then. But you wanted to know what you’re doing with us, what you bring to the party.”

“Ah, right. I did ask that.”

“So, first, you totally fit with us. You’re going to be a famous architect one day, like Brunelleschi or Frank Lloyd Wright or Eero Saarinen.” She grinned. “See? I’m always paying attention when you tell me stuff.”

“You are. Nice.”

“You’re going to be famous like them,” she continued. “I just know it.

Maybe not tomorrow—I mean, seriously, you’re still in school—but one day.

I’ve seen your talent. You don’t think it’s all that special ’cause you live with it. Like me and my sculpture. Or Sabrina and her looks. And oh my gosh, Paul! You have no idea how insecure she is sometimes.”

I chuckled.

“But you know what I mean. You have this amazing talent, and other people see it even if you think it’s just normal.”

“Well, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And you asked what you bring to the party? That’s easy.”

“What?”

“You bring a very happy Birdy.” She hugged my arm and looked up at me, her eyes aglow with happiness. “You might not think it’s much, but it’s pretty important to me. My family too.”

“I guess you’re right.” I put my arm around her and we continued walking. As we rounded the block and turned toward her house, I looked down at her. “You never told me what your flaws are.”

“Oh? Didn’t I?”

“No.”

She slipped from under my arm and danced ahead of me.

“You’re not going to, are you?”

“Going to what?” She pirouetted and grinned at me over her shoulder.

I jogged to catch up but she danced out of reach. I knew I couldn’t catch her so I didn’t try. She did a couple of scissor-kick leaps followed by a twirl.

Then she ran toward me and leapt into my arms. She wrapped hers around my neck and kissed me.

“Happy Birdy?”

“Happy Birdy.”

Jim and family left early the next morning to fly back to Florida. Danny and Sabrina said goodbye a little before lunch. Rich and Terry drove them to the airport and then continued to their own house in Coronado. Christy and I were the last to leave.

“Birdy,” her father said as we finished lunch, “do you mind if I talk to Paul before you go?”

My eyebrows shot up. What a difference a few days made.

“Um… okay.”

“Don’t take long, dear,” Anne said. “You know how traffic is on the I-5.”

“We should have plenty of time.” He nodded for me to join him in his office. “Little early for whiskey,” he said. “The sun’s over the yardarm, but…”

“Still a little early,” I finished for him.

“Right.” He sat in one of the armchairs and gestured to the other. “You know I don’t like to beat around the bush, so I’ll get right to the point.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Just Harold. You’ve earned it.”

“Thank you… Harold.”

He actually grinned. And then he seemed to change thoughts midstream.

“Are you sure you won’t reconsider the Navy? I know the man who’s in charge of recruiting on the east coast. He could guarantee you Aviation. If you pass all the tests, that is. Which I’m sure you would. And you already have your private license, don’t you?”

“Yes, but—”

“Hear me out. The Navy needs men like you, son. I couldn’t help your career directly, but I know all the right doors to open. And I’ll be honest, I’d feel a whole lot better if Birdy was dating a military man.” He gave me a searching look. “Will you at least think about it?”

“I’ll… think about it,” I said. It was the least I could do.

He went to the desk and took out a Filofax. When he returned he handed me a note with a name and phone number.

“Here you go. You don’t have to make a decision right now.” He returned

to his chair. “You graduate a year from June?”

“Two years. Architecture’s a five-year program.”

“Wait,” he said suddenly. “Is it a BA or a BS?”

“Neither. It’s a Bachelor of Architecture.”

“Hmm. You might need a waiver.” He glanced toward his Filofax and started to rise.

“Sir… Harold… stop.” I paused to gather my thoughts. “You’ve put me in an awkward position…”

He sank back to his chair and said with a touch of sarcasm, “Where have I heard that before?”

“Well, think about it. You’re my girlfriend’s father, and…”

“You want to make me happy.”

I nodded. The man didn’t get to where he was on good looks alone.

“So it’d be easy to tell me what I want to hear,” he added.

“Much easier than what I’m doing now.”

“You’re telling me you won’t even think about it?”

“I’ll think about it. I owe you that much. But…” I held up the folded note.

“This would mean changing my entire life’s plan. It would mean giving up something I love. Very much. Do you really want me to trade my dreams for your daughter?”

“And if I say yes?”

I looked at him.

He regarded me just as calmly. And when I still hadn’t said anything after nearly a minute, he chuckled and said, “I’d like to meet your father.”

“He’s a lot like you. But you really want to meet my mother. I’m more like her than him.”

His eyebrows rose. “She must be an interesting woman.”

“I think she is.”

He sat back and studied me for another long moment. “Your father didn’t make a career of the military, did he?”

“No.”

“Do you know why?”

“He doesn’t talk about it much.”

“He flew in combat?”

I nodded.

“No, he wouldn’t talk about that.” He sat in silence, deep in his own memories of Vietnam. Then he smiled at something and returned his

attention to me. “You seem to like quotations. Well, here’s one for you. ‘I must study politics and war that my sons may have liberty to study mathematics and philosophy.’”

I searched my memory but drew a blank.

“John Adams,” he said.

“Ah. Not exactly what I normally read…”

“No, but it’s what I read. Because I study politics and war. Although in my case I wanted my sons to do the same.”

“Do you think that’s what they wanted?” I asked quietly.

His expression sharpened. “Son, only two people can question my decisions. You aren’t one of them.”

“Right. Sorry. Note to self: don’t question the Admiral’s decisions.”

He did his best scowl.

“Sorry. I have a really dumb sense of humor sometimes. I get the puns from my mom, but the smart aleck is from my dad. The stupid ‘note to self’

thing is my own, though. Along with a couple of other things I—”

He laughed and shook his head.

“I should probably shut up now,” I said.

“You and Birdy… Lord! That girl can talk when she’s nervous.”

Anne stuck her head through the open doors. “A few more minutes,” she said politely.

“We’re wrapping up,” Harold said with a nod.

She smiled and disappeared toward the kitchen.

He returned his attention to me and assumed his I’m-her-father expression.

I did my best not to fidget.

“I enjoyed meeting you,” he said.

My head came up in surprise.

“I didn’t think I would, but I did. I’m still not sure I approve of you dating Birdy, but my wife is fond of pointing out that she can make her own decisions.”

“I hope I’m a good one.”

“I’m willing to give you the chance.” He gestured at the note in my hand.

“I still wish you’d consider the Navy, but I understand that maybe your father wanted you to study mathematics and philosophy.”

“I think he did— does.”

“As long as you take care of Birdy and make her happy…”

“I’ll do my best.”

“See that you do.” He smiled and we stood.

I almost said, “Dismissed!” But I decided that teasing my girlfriend’s father was probably something I should ease into, rather than jump with both feet.

Christy and her mother were sitting at the kitchen table. Christy wasn’t quite a nervous wreck, but close. She shot to her feet as soon as we entered.

She couldn’t decide if our expressions were good or bad.

“Relax, Birdy,” her father said. “I’ll give him a chance.”

Christy rushed into his arms. “Oh, Daddy! I knew you’d like him!” She released her hug, but he kept his arm around her protectively.

Anne glanced at him and then pointedly at me.

I smothered a smile.

“Oh, right,” he said. He lifted his arm from around Christy’s shoulders, and she moved to my side. “I’m not ready to give her away, mind, but you can look out for her in Tennessee. You seem to be doing a good job so far.”

“Why, thank you… Harold.”

“He does that very well, doesn’t he?” Anne said with a grin. “You can almost hear the ‘sir.’”

He nodded. “Like he wants to impress me.”

“What a novel idea.”

“Thank you very much for inviting me,” I said. “And this probably isn’t the best time, but I want to apologize for… you know. We really didn’t mean to fall asleep together. And then Rich… well… yeah.”

“You handled yourself well,” Harold said. “You shouldn’t’ve been in the situation in the first place—”

“Neither of them should have been there,” Anne said with a significant look at her daughter.

“Right you are,” Harold said. “So… see that it doesn’t happen again.”

“Not a chance,” I said, as earnestly as I could.

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“Oh, Harold,” Anne said. “Be nice. He’s trying to apologize.”

“It’s about time…”

She jumped and looked at her watch. “Time. Oh, dear! We’re going to be late.”

“Then let’s get a move on,” he said. “Paul, help me with the luggage?”

I turned to the row of suitcases along the kitchen wall and pulled up short.

“Um… sorry?” Christy said in a guilty voice. “I couldn’t fit everything in the ones I brought.”

Her father and I shared a look.

“This is one thing I am ready to give away.” He gave me a weary look.

“Son, if you can keep up with her wardrobe, you’re a better man than I.”

“Not a chance,” I said again, as earnestly as before.

Christy’s parents parked the car and walked with us into the airport terminal.

We chatted in line until we reached the check-in counter. Christy shot me a guilty look as she remembered the near-fiasco on the trip out, but we didn’t have any problems this time.

We checked our suitcases, took our boarding passes, and walked a little way toward our gate. Christy’s parents hugged and kissed her and said goodbye. Harold shook my hand, and Anne gave me a long hug.

“Be good to her,” she whispered. “She really likes you.”

We lingered a bit longer, until I looked at my watch and gave Harold a little nod. Then we said our final goodbyes and Christy and I shouldered our carry-on bags.

We made it to our gate with time to spare and settled in to wait for the start of boarding. Christy couldn’t decide whether to be happy that her family and I had gotten along well or sad that we were leaving. I decided to take things another direction entirely.

“What would you think if I joined the Navy?” I asked.

“Why? Are you thinking about it?”

“Yes and no. Your dad came right out and asked me to. He didn’t insist, but he did say he’d be happier if you were dating a military man. And he made a pretty strong case for me becoming a pilot.” I glanced at her sideways. “What would you think if I did?”

“Do you want to?”

“Part of me does,” I admitted. “I mean, I grew up thinking my father was the coolest guy in the world. Wanted to be just like him. You know how it is with boys.”

She nodded.

“So yeah, I think it’d be cool to be a Navy pilot, the best of the best.”

“But you’d have to give up architecture.”

“Exactly. That’s the part of me that doesn’t want to do it. I mean, I love designing buildings and figuring out ways to make my ideas work.”

“And you’re so good at it!”

“Thanks. I think so too. But I think I’d be a good pilot too. Still…”

“Still…?”

“I’d have to give up everything I’ve worked for.”

“Exactly.”

“And… I guess I want to know what you think.”

“I think you’d make a great pilot,” she said, although her heart didn’t seem to be in it.

“But…?”

“But you’re such a fantastic architect.”

“Then let me ask you a different question.”

“Okay.”

The gate agent came over the PA and announced the start of boarding for regular passengers.

“Hold that thought,” I said. Ten minutes later we were settled in our seats on the plane, so I picked up the thread of the conversation. “Okay, where were we? Right. Let me ask you a different question,” I repeated. “Why were you dating Simon?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, from how you describe him, he doesn’t really sound like the military type.”

She scoffed. “He wasn’t. He didn’t want anything to do with the military.”

“Then why in God’s name were you engaged to him?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I know you loved him, but…” I shrugged. “I guess I can’t help but wonder why you were dating him in the first place. Why take him home to meet your family when he doesn’t like the military?”

“Because he was my fiancé!”

“Whoa! Calm down. I’m saying this all wrong. Gimme a sec and lemme think.” I did just that for nearly a minute. “Okay, a bit of explanation first.

Then I’ll try to ask the question I want the answer to. Without sounding like a jerk about it. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said cautiously.

“It has to do with an ex-girlfriend,” I warned.

“Everything with you has to do with an ex-girlfriend.”

“That’s because I have several exes.”

“You can say that again,” she muttered. She immediately shot me a preemptive glare.

I grinned.

I must have looked cute enough or guileless enough or something enough that she quit scowling and reluctantly grinned as well.

“They’re exes,” I stressed. “You know, former girlfriends. Like, in the past, because you’re my current girlfriend. The one and only.” I waited for the words to sink in. “Happy Birdy?”

“Not-so-grumpy Birdy,” she conceded.

“Baby steps,” I said with a sideways grin. “Okay… back to my question.

So, Kendall was a psychology major. I heard a lot about family counseling,

’cause that’s what she wanted to do. And part of what she talked about was looking for people’s hidden motivations. Why they do the things they do, besides the obvious.”

“Okay…” She still wasn’t convinced.

“You know, like why do you go to work? To earn money to pay for things you want. That’s an obvious motivation. But why do kids misbehave?”

She thought about it and shook her head.

“Because they want their parents’ attention.”

“Ah, okay.”

“So that’s what I mean by a hidden motivation.”

“I still don’t see what—”

“I’ll get there. Hold on. I guess I want to know if you had any hidden motivations when you agreed to marry Simon.”

“Of course I didn’t.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“I loved him! At least… I thought I did.”

“Yeah, but why him? Why a guy who doesn’t want anything to do with the military?”

She scowled and didn’t answer.

“Look,” I said at last, “I guess this has more to do with me than you.

Personally, I don’t care why you were engaged to Simon. He’s your ex-

fiancé. Like Kendall’s my ex-girlfriend. They’re both in our past. Right?”

“Right.”

“So… why I ask about Simon. I guess I want to know how strongly you feel about me joining the military.”

“Why?”

“Well… I told your dad it was a long shot, but now I’m not so sure. Like I said, part of me thinks it’d be totally cool to be an attack pilot. And if that’s what you want, then I’ll give it some serious thought rather than just say no.”

I glanced at her anxiously.

She didn’t say anything.

“But then I started thinking about it,” I continued. “And I kept coming back to Simon. I guess I thought maybe you were engaged to him because you didn’t want to be married to a military man. To bring it back to me and my question, what would you think…?”

“Do you want to?”

“Yes and no. But I thought I should talk to you first, ’cause it’s a big decision, and…”

“And…?”

“Well… I can see myself with you in the future. And it’d affect you too, so…”

Her eyes welled with tears. For a panicky moment I thought she was angry, but then I realized they were happy tears. Neither of us were ready to say it aloud, but we both knew why she was happy.

“So…” I said when she composed herself, “what do you think? Should I think about it some more or should I keep going with architecture?”

She wiped her cheeks and tried to look neutral. “What do you want to do?”

“Both!” I said with a laugh.

She laughed too. “The world’s first flying architect!”

“I can design my own targets!”

“Exactly!”

We laughed and made a few more jokes before we remembered why we were laughing in the first place.

“Do you really want to join the Navy?” she asked. “I’d support you a hundred percent if you do. I’d be proud of you.”

I heard something in her voice. “But…?”

“But nothing.”

I waited her out, and she eventually grimaced.

“I hate that I can’t lie to you,” she said. “You have no idea how that messes with my confidence. I’m always worried that you’ll see right through me and know what I’m really thinking.”

“Is that so bad? To trust someone enough that you don’t need to lie to them?”

“Well, not when you put it like that,” she said with feigned irritation.

I grinned and waited for her to turn serious.

“No,” she said at last. “I don’t want you to join the military.”

“Why not?” I asked softly.

“I’m… not exactly sure. I mean, I love my dad and brothers—don’t get me wrong—but…” She shrugged. “I guess I just don’t want that kind of life for myself. Or…” She looked at me through lowered lashes. “Or for my children. One day. I’m not saying that you and I—”

“It’s okay,” I said with a laugh. “We’re not painting the baby’s room just yet.”

She nodded without looking up. Then she fidgeted. “Are you upset?”

“That you’re talking about having kids together?”

“No. That I don’t want you to join the Navy.”

I thought about it before I answered.

“I can get used to it if you want to,” she said into the silence.

“I… don’t think I do.” I fell silent and tried to put my thoughts into words. “I guess it’s one of those things that’s a childhood dream but isn’t meant to be a grown-up reality. If that makes sense.”

“I wanted to be a prima ballerina when I was little. But then I really started learning to draw and sculpt, and…”

“You fell in love with art.”

She nodded.

“That’s how I feel about architecture. I love the idea of building things.”

“Exactly.”

“So… I guess that’s settled.”

She nodded, and we fell silent. After a moment I rested my hand palm-up on the armrest between us. She put hers in mine and I squeezed gently.

We’d just made our first major decision as a couple. I didn’t know whether to be pleased or scared to death.

We made it home a little before one in the morning. Wren was waiting up for us, although she looked like she’d been dozing the moment before. She smiled tiredly and stood as we came through the front door.

“Welcome home. Did you have a—? Oh my God, what happened to your eye?”

“Oh, this?” I said disingenuously.

She looked at Christy in alarm. “Did things go okay with your parents?”

“More than okay. They loved him!”

Wren looked confused, but who could blame her? My left eye was still a livid purple that had only just started fading. The cut was healing well—Rich had given me good advice—but it was still covered with a bandage. Christy’s tone was completely at odds with my appearance, so I understood Wren’s reaction.

“She’ll tell you,” I said to Wren. Then I went back out to the Cruiser for more luggage.

The girls had moved to the kitchen when I returned with the first load, so I headed straight upstairs and dropped the suitcases in Christy’s room. I took one more trip to get the last two and then hauled our smaller ones and carry-on bags upstairs as well.

I finally joined them in the kitchen, where Christy was eating a snack and still talking about our visit.

Wren stopped her. “You still haven’t told me what happened to Paul. Was he in a fight?”

I slid into the chair next to Christy and filched a carrot. “Sort of. It was pretty one-sided, though. Just two hits.”

Wren’s eyebrows twitched up.

“He hit me and I hit the ground.”

Her eyes widened even further.

“It really wasn’t that bad,” I said. “Christy’s brother Rich and I had a little disagreement.”

“What about?”

I grinned at Christy. “You wanna tell her or should I?”

“I sort of fell asleep in Paul’s bed.”

Wren’s reaction was a perfect mix of glee and amusement.

We told her the story in pieces between us. We left out the part about fooling around, but Wren wasn’t stupid. She could read between the lines, and her expression practically glowed with delight.

“Anyway,” I finished, “that’s how I got the shiner. Rich and I sort of reached a truce after that. He doesn’t like me and I don’t really like him.” I shrugged an apology at Christy. “But we aren’t actively trying to kill each other, so that’s something.”

“Rich likes you fine,” Christy said. “He’s just protective.”

“He’s protective all right, but he doesn’t like me. Sorry.” I stole another carrot. “You’re just saying that ’cause you want it to be true.”

“I am not,” she said indignantly.

“Yeah, you are. Sorry, honey.”

Wren’s eyes flashed at the last word, but I plowed ahead as if I hadn’t noticed.

“Rich and I will eventually see eye to eye—no pun intended—but not any time soon.”

“You don’t know him like I do,” Christy said. She had her rose-colored glasses firmly in place, so I decided not to argue with her.

“The rest of our visit was fine,” I said to Wren. “Good times with family, moonlit walks on the beach—”

“Very romantic,” Wren agreed.

“Lots of food and drink,” I added. “Oh… and one marriage proposal.”

Wren’s eyebrows flew up, exactly how I’d hoped.

“Oh my gosh!” Christy gushed. “I forgot to tell you. It was so romantic!

Danny had it all planned…”

I chuckled to myself as Wren realized what I’d done. She was stuck between being annoyed with me for the bait-and-switch or excited for Christy and her brother. She eventually settled on excited, although I could tell that she was already planning her revenge. She really didn’t like being one-upped.

Christy eventually wound down, and Wren fought off another yawn.

“We’d better let her get to bed,” I said to Christy. “It’s two in the morning here. We’re still on San Diego time.” Our bodies had finally gotten used to Pacific time just in time for us to return to Eastern. “Getting late for us too, though.”

Christy nodded.

“Well,” Wren said through another yawn, “I’m glad you made it home safe. It sounds like you had fun.”

“We did.”

“I’ll tell you about our trip tomorrow. It was good. A little stressful, but good.” She stood and looked anxious for a moment, like she couldn’t decide

what to do next.

I caught her eye and gave a discreet nod toward Christy.

She smiled and thanked me silently. Then she bent to kiss Christy’s temple. Anyone else would have thought it was a friendly gesture, but I knew how much affection it held.

“Goodnight,” she said to her. “Glad you had a good trip. See you in the morning.”

“See you in the morning,” Christy echoed.

Wren moved behind me and kissed my cheek. “I’ll get you for that,” she whispered, playful instead of malicious. She straightened and said in a normal voice, “Glad you made it home safe. Sleep tight.”

I touched her hand on my shoulder. “You too.”

She headed toward the stairs and bed.

“Do you wanna have a nightcap before we go up?” Christy asked.

“No,” I said immediately. “Thank you. I think I need to dry out for a couple of days. Your family doesn’t do anything in half-measures.”

“No,” she agreed with a laugh, “we’re pretty much overachievers.”

“You can say that again.”

She grinned at the deliberate straight line. “We’re pretty much overachievers.”

“Exactly. Now come on, Little Bit. Time for bed.”

“Together or separate?” she teased. “I know,” she added quickly,

“separate. Baby steps.”

“Right you are.”

We turned out the lights and went upstairs. Then we lingered at her bedroom door.

“I had fun this weekend,” I said. “I like your family.”

“I’m glad. I knew you would.” She smiled up at me hopefully, and I bent to give her a kiss. She hugged me after and pressed her cheek to my chest.

Then she inhaled deeply and sighed.

I kissed the top of her head and breathed in the scent of her too.

We parted slowly.

“Sweet dreams,” I said at last.

She smiled. “Of penises.”

“One in particular, I hope.”

“Mmm hmm!”

I kissed her one last time before she closed the door.

I went to my own bedroom and did the same. Then I kicked off my shoes and flopped on the bed.

Part of me was happy—ecstatic, even—but part of me was worried.

Christy and I were moving awfully fast. We were already hinting at a future together and kids. Yet she didn’t really know a thing about me. She didn’t know my family were nudists. She didn’t know we were swingers. She didn’t know the real me, the private person on the inside.

I lay there for a long time thinking about it. Then I tried to distract myself by reliving the weekend in my head. But once I started thinking about it, I began to see a pattern.

Christy had come out to the porch on Thanksgiving evening, but I’d made the decision to take off her pajamas. Once we were under the covers, I had put my hand under her camisole. And then I’d told her to take out my hard-on and play with it. In every case she’d been passive while I was active. She’d been willing, but I’d made all the decisions.

The pattern repeated for our walk on the beach and everything we’d done on the blanket. She was willing and even eager, but I took things to the next level. The same was true for our walk to clear my head, even though we hadn’t fooled around.

I thought back through the past few weeks and couldn’t come up with many times when she had been the one to start things. A few times when she’d been drinking, but she rarely made a physical move. They were usually invitations, although never explicit ones.

I couldn’t help but think about something Wren had said, that Christy had seduced her. At the time I’d thought she was just trying to convince me that Christy was a lot more uninhibited than I thought, but now I wasn’t so sure.

Christy had a devilish ability to get what she wanted, without asking for it. Oh, she did ask for things, but with hints and suggestions more than actual requests. And everything that had happened in the past four days really drove that point home.

In a weird way it annoyed me. She never had to take the credit or blame for her decisions. Things just happened to her. She never made the first move. I didn’t want a girlfriend who simply gave in to my desires. I wanted one who was an active participant. She didn’t have to be a take-charge type or anything like that, but passive wasn’t the same as submissive.

Still, I couldn’t help thinking that Christy was perfect for me in many ways. I also liked that we’d become friends (again) before we became lovers.

But I still had plenty of doubts if we’d be compatible in bed, especially in the long run. Would lust and attraction lay the foundation for a committed relationship?

She couldn’t just smile and passively become a nudist, much less a swinger. At some point she’d need to make a decision. An active one, I told myself.

The little head thought I was being silly. If she did what I wanted—what it wanted—what did it matter? But the big head wasn’t so sure. Relationships were full of compromises, but what if they all went one direction? Was that really a relationship? A healthy one? One that would last?

I didn’t have any answers. And I wasn’t likely to find them if I kept the questions to myself.