Page 13 of A Veteran's Desire

Pops nods and for the first time looks away from me. I have the feeling I’ve passed some kind of test.

The clinking of cutlery fills the silence.

“Do you think someone’s trying to scare us off the land?” This comes from Abby. Her hair is lighter than her sister’s and her expression more anxious.

I don’t want to scare the family, but I can’t lie either.

“I think whoever wants this land is willing to do whatever it takes to get it.”

“Well, they won’t get it,” Hannah pipes up. “They’re cowards. They think they can intimidate women and an old man. Sorry, Pops. We won’t be scared off by bullies.”

I like her spirit and the fire in her eyes. She looks beautiful right now, and I wish I was here under different circumstances. I wish I was here because she invited me into her home and family.

“What’s this land got that they want so bad?” Pops muses.

Which is the question the entire town is asking. “There’s a public meeting being organized. Owen has a team on it, looking for answers.”

“And who appointed you security to my girls? Is someone paying you? Because we can’t afford it.”

“I don’t need payment.” My gaze strays to Hannah. I’ve been living off my savings and doing odd jobs for Joel at the retreat. I never spent much while I was in the military, and I don’t have to worry about money for a while.

“Where you staying, Grant?”

“Jake’s Retreat. I’m in the bunkhouse.” Joel built the bunkhouse for retreat guests and those needing to stay a little longer. It’s not the Ritz, but it’s a bed.

“You can stay here with us,” Pops says.

“What?” Hannah almost drops her water glass.

“It’s the least we can do. If you’re watching out for us, then we’ll look after you. We’ll provide a bed and meals until this all blows over.”

“Pops, we’ve got kids in this house.” Rachel’s voice holds a note of parental anxiety.

“Good. Those boys need a man around the place.”

“He can’t just move in,” Hannah protests, but her cheeks have gone red and her eyes are dilated and I detect, behind her protests, that she’s a little pleased.

Pops pushes his chair back.

“Come on, son. I’ll show you to the spare room.”

And just like that I’m one step closer to Hannah, and yet, miles away.

6

HANNAH

One week later…

The hum of the oven warming up seems loud in the quiet house. I pull the door to the kitchen closed and keep the lights dimmed low, so as not to wake anyone.

The kitchen clock says it’s just after midnight. I’m usually asleep by now, but the bakery doesn’t open today and I’m too wired to sleep. Maybe wired isn’t the right word. Frustrated, breathless,horny. The past week, with Grant living under my roof, has been torture. He’s there where I come down for work at 3:15, already dressed. He’s there when I come home, installing locks and cameras, and when that was all done, he fixed the squeaky cupboard in the kitchen, the broken shower nozzle in the kids’ bathroom, and a bunch of other small repairs that we’ve never gotten around to.

In the evenings, I hear Pops’s laughter from upstairs and wonder what they’re talking about. But the worst is the quiet mornings when we drive to the cafe together, his hand inches from mine but never touching, the silence between us comfortable. And then we get to the cafe and go about ourestablished routines, his checking for anything unusual, me baking. When the first batch is in the oven, I pour the coffee and we sit by the window, watching the sun creep down the mountain.

Pops is invigorated by having a man around the house. They were out walking the cherry orchard together yesterday, and Grant helped dig up kudzu vines which had taken root. He got covered in dirt, and I didn’t realize he was in the downstairs shower. He came out wrapped in a towel with water dripping off his torso.

Our eyes locked in the corridor, and the towel twitched around his groin. His eyes darted to my lips, and I was sure he was going to kiss me. Then Liam ran between us, jiggling up and down and singing about pee as he bolted into the bathroom.