Bring Me Home For Christmas. Робин Карр

didn’t tell me that,” she said.

       Troy laughed. “Let me guess—maybe it’s not way up there on his list of important conversational topics. I haven’t been teaching long. I did two years in the Corps, finished college, got called for Iraq again and came home to teach. I think I’ll get in a good stretch at home now.”

       “But why the Marines? I mean, why still the Marines?”

       He shrugged. “I love the Marine Corps.”

       “And if you get called again?”

       “I’ll go again,” he said easily.

       “And Dirk? Did I hear he worked construction…?”

       “Heavy equipment operator—a crane. Just like his dad and his brother.”

       “No interest in college for him?”

       Troy laughed. “I don’t think so, no. It takes about three teachers’ salaries to make one crane operator’s.”

       “Now, see, that’s just wrong. What’s more important—the future of your children or the construction of a building?”

       “You’re not looking at it the way they do,” he said. “It’s not the building that’s valued above the future of the children, it’s the guys in the hard hats under the crane who count on a really good operator. Their lives depend on it. They would be the fathers.”

       “Teachers are underpaid,” she pointed out to him.

       “As are cops, firefighters, librarians and just about everyone who is a public servant. I don’t know about you, but most of us don’t teach because it’ll make us rich.”

       “You do it for love?”

       “I guess. And because I’m having fun!” Then he grinned handsomely. “Those kids just crack me up.”

       “Me, too,” she admitted. “Mine are seven—what a hoot. I hear about teacher burnout all the time, but I’m still on the honeymoon. I look forward to every day. Well…I used to.”

       “Used to?” he asked.

       “My school closed. I’m currently unemployed. When I get home, I’ll see if I can sub while I’m sending around applications. It’s not a great time to be job hunting. Not only is it a holiday season, but education funds have been cut, too.”

       “Bummer,” he said. “I don’t know why I’ve been lucky enough to hang on to my job while everyone else seems to be getting laid off or cut back on hours. But as Big Richie tells it, you’ll probably just get married.”

       “Wow. That’s pretty sexist. I hope I also get married.”

       “I stand corrected. Who’s the lucky guy?” he asked.

       “Good question. I’ve been seeing someone for the past year, but we’re not engaged.”

       “Which allows you to go duck hunting with your ex?” he asked.

       “Which allows me to go hunting with my brother,” she emphasized.

       “And Denny,” he said, taking another bite of his sandwich. “You must have a very understanding boyfriend.”

       “Well, he is, as a matter of fact. Denny and Rich have been friends for years—before and after we dated. It really doesn’t have anything to do with me. And what about you? Girlfriend?”

       “Sort of,” he said with a shrug.

       “Sort of?” she pushed. “Either you do or don’t have a girlfriend.”

       “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Troy said before he had time to fully chew and swallow. He finished that task. “I don’t have a steady girl at the moment. I date here and there. I’m talking dinner, movie, clubs sometimes, group things. Lately I’ve been seeing this girl who gives accident-adjustment estimates—I had a fortuitous little fender bender. She’s not quite over the last guy, so we’re taking it very slow. We’ve been out about four times—a couple of softball games with her friends, one Monday-night football at a sports bar with mine and a high school football game to watch her little brother play. I’m not committed and neither is she.”

       “And Dirk?” she asked.

       “Same girl for about six months now. Diedre. An assistant manager of a bowling alley. Personally, I think Dirk might be down for the count. Diedre seems to be around all the time.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Tell me more about the guy, Becca,” he said. “Teacher? Like you?”

       “Law student.”

       He laughed uncomfortably. “Stiff competition,” he said.

       “For who?” Becca asked, wondering if her cover had just been blown.

       “Well, me, for starters.”

       “Are you making a pass?”

       “I’m saying I wouldn’t mind hearing you’re open to the possibility.” He touched her nose. Then he smiled and winked.

      Three

      Denny watched Troy and Becca in the front seat of the truck for about a half hour, drinking coffee, laughing, talking. He caught a little casual touching—Troy reached toward her face; she put a hand on his shoulder—stealing glances over his shoulder while he crouched in the blind. Dirk and Rich were in the boat, right in the midst of some shoreline reeds.

       Finally Troy exited the truck, grabbed the shotgun that leaned against it and went back to his cozy little nest in the bushes at the water’s edge. Every few minutes one of the guys would blow on a duck call, but other than that the only sound was the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind.

       Then a flock of ducks burst from the narrow end of the lake and took flight. Shotguns blasted as all the hunters fired, but the flock escaped unscathed. Nothing dropped from the sky. Nothing.

       Rich and Dirk brought the boat in and dragged it up on the bank, ready to take a little break while any fowl that remained nearby regrouped and recovered from the shock of gunfire.

       “I think I’m done in,” Denny said. He looked at his watch—it was barely after noon. “How about you guys?”

       “I got a couple of hours in me,” Rich said.

       “I’m good. You gonna wimp out?” Troy asked.

       “Might just,” he said. “I’m going to help out in the bar tonight. I could use a shower before that. Looks like Becca’s had about enough. Tell you what, I’ll leave the thermoses and food in your truck, Dirk, and take Rich’s truck back to town. I can give Becca a lift. When you boys are done, bring in the boat and the decoys, will you? And I’ll see you at Jack’s for dinner. How’s that?”

       Rich, Dirk and Troy looked back and forth between each other. Finally, Troy said, “Sure, Den. Okay.”

       “We’ll do it again tomorrow. Maybe Becca will take a pass.”

       “Denny, Becca’s no trouble,” Troy said. “She’s not asking to leave. She seems to be holding up fine. I bet she’d sit in the truck till dark, if that’s how long we stay out.”

       “Yeah, probably,” Denny admitted. “But there’s no reason for her to do that, since I need to get back to town, shower and help Jack round up a good meal for you diehards. So I’ll see you at Jack’s.”

       “Sure,” Troy said as the other two nodded.

       Whew, that was close, Denny thought. Before anyone could decide to tag along, he headed for Rich’s truck. He opened the back door and began to gather up thermoses and the food. Becca looked at him curiously. “I’m going to put this stuff in Dirk’s truck. They want to hunt awhile longer. I’ll take you back to town.”

       “You don’t have to do that,”