The Marine's Family Mission. Victoria Pade

the couch made her remember that.

      As much as it pained her to make the offer when she really wanted Declan to vanish into the basement as often as possible, she forced herself to say, “If it will bother you to use the basement bedroom, you could sleep on the couch...”

      “I stayed in the basement bedroom the last time I was here,” he said, again flatly.

      And again he left dead air as they passed through the living room and moved on to the kitchen.

      Emmy struggled for something more to say. “Later on I’ll have the guesthouse—that’s what Mandy called it—finished, so maybe I can bring the kids for weekends or on vacations to spend some time here. I want the farm to be familiar to them, for it to seem like home as much as it can when I’ll have them living in Denver. Maybe Mandy and Topher won’t mind so much that the kids won’t grow up here if I can at least bring them for visits...”

      Declan had been a great conversationalist when they’d initially met in Afghanistan and again at the reception. Even when he wasn’t talking, he’d seemed engaged and interested in everything she had to say. But now it was like she was talking to a brick wall. It only made being with him worse. If he doesn’t want to be here, why doesn’t he leave?

      But she didn’t say that. She reminded herself that she needed his help. Damn him anyway!

      When they reached the kitchen, Emmy opted for abandoning the small talk and simply returning to instruction—maybe he saw himself as her employee. If that was the case, fine, they’d just talk business.

      “Mom and I have been trading off nights walking Kit—I know, since he’s sleeping now, it seems like he’ll just stay that way till the morning, but he won’t. He’ll wake up for a bottle somewhere between ten and eleven and after that he’ll be fussy and he won’t go back to sleep. And he won’t even be happy just being held. He has to be walked and rocked and patted and jiggled until he’s hungry enough to take another bottle—which will be somewhere between 2:00 and 3:00 a.m.—and then he’ll fall asleep again.”

      “Yeah, your mom told me that. I said I thought I could take her shifts so you could sleep every other night the way you were with her here.”

      He could have said that before she went into the whole spiel.

      Again, she wondered if he liked making her feel dim.

      Emmy didn’t say anything, though. She merely finished what she’d been about to tell him. “Mom took last night and let me sleep, so I can take tonight. That’ll give you tomorrow to get more used to handling him before you have him on your own.”

      “Okay.”

      One word.

      “I have to clean the kitchen, but if you want to go down and unpack and get to bed early or something—”

      “I can help.”

      “With the dishes? But you came after we’d finished—you didn’t even eat.”

      He shrugged a broad shoulder. But said nothing.

      She just wanted him to go away despite the fact that he was eye candy. But without waiting for instruction, he merely went to the kitchen table and picked up the dishes, then took them to the sink.

      Emmy tried not to sigh and gathered the rest of the silverware and glasses.

      “I do have to get Kit’s formula ready for tomorrow—I guess you could learn how to do that,” she said resignedly. She lapsed into silence of her own as she rinsed the dishes, loaded the dishwasher and then got out what she needed to mix the infant formula and fill bottles.

      She had no idea exactly how long they went without talking, but it seemed like forever before he said, “So how are you going to follow around the Red Cross to take pictures and raise two kids?”

      “I don’t do that anymore,” she said, just about as flatly as he’d answered her questions earlier. And without offering additional explanation the same way either.

      “Really? You said you loved that job—that it was better than when you were a freelance photographer taking pictures of the destruction of war or natural disasters because you got to take pictures of people trying to do good, getting things done.”

      She had said that. And it had been true. For a day and a half more after they’d had that conversation.

      “After the school bombing I...I just decided... I don’t know... When I first started my career, it was exciting to be in the thick of things—that’s why I chose photojournalism. But a few years of that and I wanted to look through my viewfinder and see more positive images—so I went to work with the Red Cross. But I was with them for almost six years and...” She shrugged as if the latest career alteration wasn’t a big deal. “Then I wanted to see and be a part of things that weren’t anywhere near the thick of anything. When I got home from Afghanistan, I just...stayed. Now I take mostly wedding photographs with a few engagement or retirement parties thrown in, and the occasional shoot for a new baby.”

      “Pretty pictures.”

      “That memorialize the happiest times in people’s lives rather than the—”

      “Ugliest.”

      Like everything else he’d said since yesterday, his tone was matter-of-fact. But still it somehow irritated Emmy, making her feel guilty and embarrassed. And weak.

      She was on the verge of defending herself when Declan said, “Lucky for Trinity and Kit—now you’ll be around for them. Mandy probably wouldn’t have been able to make a guardian of someone like me, who’s halfway around the world for who-knows-how-long at the drop of a hat.”

      So he hadn’t been judging her, she’d just done that to herself. She was glad she hadn’t launched into the justifications she’d been about to fire off.

      Instead she merely muttered, “Yeah, lucky. If I hadn’t quit before, I would have had to now.”

      “How do you feel about...you know, instant parenthood?”

      “I’m okay with it,” she said succinctly. “It’s strange—I’ll admit that. But I love those little buggers and...” She shrugged again. “I’m adjusting. I’ll always do my best for them.”

      “Just like that?”

      “Yes,” she said with resolve. Not that it had been so simple to accept such a huge responsibility. But she’d promised her sister. So she didn’t allow herself to think about the way she used to envision her life.

      “Even while Mandy was still alive, my course changed suddenly. Again...” she added. “I needed to...embrace that and make new plans—”

      “For your career again?”

      “No, for my personal life.” But she wasn’t about to say more on that subject. “Then this happened and...now the kids will be a part of everything I do from here on. And when it comes to them, now that Mandy and Topher are gone, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

      She thought she could feel his eyes on her, and as she finished prepping to make the formula, she stole a glance to see if she was right.

      She was. He was staring intently at her.

      Then he said, “Thanks for that.”

      There was genuine gratitude in his tone that surprised her.

      “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she repeated, meaning it.

      Then she turned to making formula and tutoring him, explaining that anything left after twenty-four hours—even under refrigeration—had to be thrown out when he asked why they didn’t make a larger quantity.

      Once the bottles were filled, he put them in the fridge while she cleaned that mess and started the dishwasher, both of them silent again.

      Into that silence he said, “Tomorrow