CAROLINA SAT UP and stared at the knots in the pine ceiling the following afternoon, trying to find the patterns she and Jake had picked out when they’d been lying here on the bed an hour ago laughing, their bodies twined together. Her eyes were scratchy now, though, because the moment he’d sensed her sadness and left the room to give her space, she’d given in to silent tears. It was an awful feeling—to swing from contentment to despair in the space of moments—but she’d given in to the despair, wallowed in self-pity, and now she was pretty much pissed off. Both at herself and at Jake.
He’d slowly been closing himself off from her, unwilling to discuss much more than the weather or . . . well, anything that even remotely led to talk about the future. Instead, he’d talked about the past. He’d mentioned his childhood a few times over dinner last night, and while he’d revealed that his dad had left the family, he’d also talked about how his mom had made it difficult for the man to stay.
Carolina didn’t know all the shades of gray, of course, but it was obvious that Jake still looked up to his dad, even idolized him—especially for his career as an agent. But could it be that the man had wanted Jake to pursue his baseball dream? Could it be that his dad loved him unconditionally and wouldn’t give two shits as long as Jake was happy? Or was she just hoping that was the case?
No matter what, the more she thought about things, the more she was sure that Jake’s dad was the key. Jake needed the man’s support and encouragement and when he was assured of it, the future would open up with hope and promise. And love—most of all love.
She was going to call Jake’s father. Time was almost up, and she couldn’t think of any other options. She was in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, with a man she loved, but was about to lose. When Friday came, he would be gone. He’d told her that he was going to be asked to be reassigned, and Jake was a follow-through type of guy. She had to make that call.
Immediately, the voice in her head pushed back.
Don’t do it. You’ll regret it.
“Leave me alone,” Carolina muttered and flopped onto her back, letting her head sink into the pillows. She already felt guilty about it—and she hadn’t even done anything yet.
But she was going to, just as soon as Jake took a nap. The last time she’d surprised him, she’d waited until he fell asleep. It had worked beautifully. This time, though, what she was planning wasn’t a harmless April Fools’ prank just to mess with him.
This time, because she loved him, she was going to help him.
You’re just trying to help yourself.
Carolina closed her eyes. She was trying to help herself—that was true. But more than that, she was trying to help both of them find happiness. Because if they didn’t discuss the future, there wasn’t a chance in the world that they would be able to stay together.
Since last night, she’d done everything but scream out “I love you” to the man, and he just didn’t get it. Or maybe he did. He loved her. He hadn’t said the words, but she knew. She hadn’t said the words, either, though . . . so maybe he thought that she wouldn’t fight for him, either. Little did he know.
What a mess.
“Oh, God,” she sighed.
Love sucked.
Opening her eyes, she sat up, grabbed her phone from the nightstand and walked into the living room, where Jake sat on the sofa folding his laundry and watching a game show on TV. When he noticed her standing behind him, he gave her a wide smile.
She smiled back. “Wheel of Fortune?”
“It’s the only thing tolerable on any of the three channels.” He shrugged and tossed a pair of balled socks into a basket.
“We have plenty of movies.”
“You mean that collection of chick flicks on VHS? Thanks, but I’ll pass.” He stood up and winked at her. “I think I’ll take that nap now. Are you . . . okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay.”
He walked around the sofa and pulled her close, his fingers resting on the sides of her hips. “You joining me?”
“Tempting. But I’m going to . . . edit photos.” She pushed lightly against his chest.
“Carolina . . . I know you want to talk and I’m sorry I upset you,” he murmured, and then kissed the top of her head. “But your life depends on me doing my job. I can’t be distracted by discussions about quitting that job.”
“And that’s different from you being distracted from your job by sleeping with me?”
He hesitated for a moment. “Yeah.”
“How?”
He sighed. “Because I’m physically with you when we’re . . . together and even though I’m naked, I could still protect you. At least that’s what I tell myself so I don’t feel so guilty.”
She gazed up at him. “I’m trying to wrap my mind around you, naked, with a gun drawn.”
He grinned.
“Jake. I thought we decided not to feel guilty about something so perfect.”
“I think pushing away guilt comes easier for you than it does for me, honey.”
“You may be right on that, at least.” She leaned up to give him a soft kiss. “Get some sleep. There’s better light upstairs, so I’ll take my laptop to my old bedroom.”
Jake nodded and disappeared into the bedroom.
For a moment, Carolina stood in the living room, staring at the sunny sky outside the windows. It was beautiful—crisp and unbelievably blue as only mountain skies could be—but that meant only one thing to her. The storms were over, and Jake would be leaving Wyoming and taking her heart with him.
“No,” she whispered. “No.”
Turning with a jerk, she took her laptop from the kitchen counter, walked up the steps, went into her old bedroom and shut the door. Before she could talk herself out of it, she sat down on the edge of Virginia’s bed for moral support—Virginia never lacked courage—and pulled her phone and a scrap of paper from her pants pocket.
Written on the paper was Joe Baxter’s number, which she’d shamelessly—or shamefully, really—found stored in Jake’s phone. She dialed.
It rang. And rang.
And it was only then that she realized she had no idea what’d she would do if she got voicemail. Oh, shit! Should she hang up? But then her number would be on caller ID, and he was no dummy. He was ex-Secret Service and would know that an unfamiliar, unidentifiable number probably wasn’t a mistake. What should she—
“This is Joe.” His voice was deep, like Jake’s, but a lot more ragged.
“Uh, hello. Mister Baxter?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Carolina Fulton.”
She paused, waiting for the name to sink in.
“What can I do for you, Miss Fulton?” he asked smoothly. In a Secret Service tone, so like Jake.
She squeezed her eyes shut quickly, but then forced them open, sitting up straight. “I’m calling about your son. Jake.”
“Is something wrong? Are you in danger?”
“No, nothing like that. Sorry to alarm you.” She paused. “And I’ll also apologize in advance for asking you what I want to ask. It’s . . . intrusive.”
“Intrusive?” He sounded perplexed, but quickly recovered. “Go ahead.”
She forced herself to speak with composure, even as her heart began to speed up. “You see, Jake has been guarding me for the better part of two weeks. We’re in Wyoming at my family’s cabin, and we got snowed in. Because of that, he and I have had occasion to chat, and I’m just wondering what you think about the fact that he gave up a career in professional baseball to become a Secret Service agent.”
There was silence.
Carolina pressed a palm to her chest and winced, waiting.
“He told you about that?” Joe asked.
“Well . . . yes.”
“He never talks about that. I have to say, I’m surprised.”
“Uh, he didn’t say a lot.” She took a breath. “Mr. Baxter, he’s an amazing agent. He wouldn’t be guarding my family if he weren’t. But I get the feeling that he’d be a lot happier if he wasn’t.”
“Wasn’t what?”
“Wasn’t an agent.”
Joe didn’t say anything for a long time, and she sat there, ankles crossed, heart thumping, not allowing herself to think. Not able to think would be more accurate.
Finally, he cleared his throat. “This is all interesting, Miss Fulton, and I appreciate you telling me.”
“You’re welcome.”
“He doesn’t know you called, does he?”
“No.”
“I thought not. Is there anything else I can do for you?” His tone was polite. Pleasant, but formal.
She hesitated, her heart in her throat.
How the hell was she supposed to ask the man to talk to his son? Convince Jake to examine his heart and choose a brighter future? Convince Jake to choose love? If Joe called Jake and convinced him that happiness mattered, family mattered, at the very least the door would crack open. Then once it had, she and Jake could slip through it together. They could plan the rest of their future together. What to do next. Where to live.
“Miss Fulton?”
“I . . . I just wanted to let you know my opinion, in case it’s helpful. You know Jake better than I do, obviously.”
“I know he’s stubborn. But I think it’s a safe bet you know that too, or you wouldn’t have contacted me.”
She let go of a small laugh. “Yes.”
“Well then, thank you for calling, Miss Fulton.”
“Thank you for speaking with me.”
There was a click as he hung up, and slowly, she pulled the phone from her ear. It was hot, and the screen was fogged up. So was her brain, and there was no way of telling whether or not that phone call had worked, but if it hadn’t—she’d just sabotaged the happiness she so desperately wanted—for both of them.
She’d taken the risk, though. She wasn’t about to give up now. Even so, her courage only stretched so far, and at this moment, she wanted nothing more than to talk to her own dad. Before her anxiety ramped up another notch, she dialed his number.
He picked up quickly. “Hi, there. The prodigal daughter emerges from a snowdrift to call her father, I take it?” Patrick said with a chuckle.
She smiled at her dad’s familiar wry tone. “Something like that.”
“How’s it going?”
“Great. Snow as high as the front door the day after we . . . I got here. You would have loved it.”
Patrick sighed. “I miss it. Not sure when I’ll get out there next with my schedule.”
“You have time to talk for a few?” Carolina fiddled with the edge of the bedspread.
“Sure. Is there something particular you wanted to discuss?”
“Um . . .” Her heart sped up again, and her mouth jumped one step ahead of her brain. “I’m going to take a break from school,” she blurted out.
Oh, no. She couldn’t take that back.
Patrick whistled. “What brought this on?”
Like she could tell him the whole story. Shit. But she had to say something. Part of the truth would be good.
“My heart’s not in education.” She shrugged, even though she knew he couldn’t see it. “Don’t blame Regina, but she’s very inspiring . . . for a lot of reasons. The more photos I take, the more right that career path seems to me. I’m happy with a camera in my hands, and I know I’d be happier in a photography program.”
“Happy is good.” Patrick paused. “Okay. I can respect happy. When are you thinking of letting the school know?”
Up until this point, she hadn’t thought of anything but quitting. She had no idea that staying in school would even cross her mind, but when she talked to her dad, she usually came up with the best decisions . . . without even realizing that she was doing it. A trace of a smile lifted her lips.
“As soon as I can work up the courage.”
“You will. But could you let the communications office know as well, so they can spin it? There’s no point in you being stabbed half to death by the press again.”
Her shoulders sagged. “Oh, Dad. I’m sorry about that. I—”
“I’m not blaming you. Hell, I’m so proud of you I could burst. Taking a risk on the future isn’t an easy thing to do, is it?”
“No.” She laughed, the sound kind of croaky. “But if you did it, so can I. Love you.”
“You, too. Always.”
When Patrick hung up, Carolina sat motionless, staring out the large window at the mountains. They were stunningly crisp against the bright sky. It was easy to imagine standing at a summit—the air thin and hard to breathe—exhilarated from the climb, yet scared to death. Behind her was the long struggle up, and in front of her, a dizzying descent into the unknown.
“I DON’T SEE why Regina has to come to dinner tonight,” Jake said the following evening, forcing his face to remain blank as Carolina suppressed a sigh. He glanced away from her and toward the windows, which were growing dark.
“Tonight, tomorrow night . . . what difference does it make?” she asked in a calm voice.
“Tomorrow is Thursday,” he answered almost accusingly, then realized the tone he’d taken. “I mean . . . it’s our last night.”
Yeah, that had sounded even more pathetic. Damn. He glanced away from her and stared down at the cookbook on the counter.
“Yes.” She shut the oven door and came to stand beside him. “Tomorrow is our last night. There’s nothing we can do to change that, unless you decide to talk to me.”
Jake winced. Well, he’d walked right into that one, hadn’t he? Though some part of him had done it on purpose, hadn’t it? If for no other reason than to clear the air—and save what precious little time they had left.
“Jake?”
“I’ve been talking to you. All day yesterday we talked. All day today too.”
“You’ve been humoring me—there’s a difference.”
Jake flipped the cookbook closed. “No, I’ve told you—plainly, I might add—that I’m not quitting the Secret Service to chase the pipe dream of coaching baseball. It would be throwing away everything I’ve worked for. You know how many agents my age have the privilege of protecting the First Family?”
She shrugged.
“Me. I’m the youngest agent on the detail. Why would I give that up?”
“Oh come on, Jake! I know it’s an honor, but how much do bragging rights really matter when you hate the job?”
“Only a fool would hate it,” he muttered.
“Is this about your father?” she asked suddenly.
He stiffened, looking at her. “Why would you say that?”
“Because I think you don’t want to let him down. You feel guilty. I can’t think of any other reason why you would choose to hold yourself back from pursuing happiness.” Her expression was cautious, but her voice was determined.
“Guilty? Of course I feel guilty. My dad and I never really got along, but I respected him. I still do. He sacrificed his own happiness without complaint. Why shouldn’t I do the same thing?”
“Because of what you just said,” she whispered. “Why repeat his life? Why?”
Jake began to pace the tile floor. “Let’s see—he had a successful thirty-year career. He retired with honors. He served his country well. He . . .”
“He walked out on you and your mom,” Carolina supplied.
Jake shot her a warning glance. “I don’t need to be reminded of that.”
He remembered all too well the loneliness of birthdays, Christmases, entire summers without a father. That loneliness had been a constant for as long as he could remember, until one day, when Jake had been twelve, his mom had laid down an ultimatum—either stay and be a dad or leave. His father had walked away for good. Jake had learned to cope—learned to be a man on his own. And he damned well wasn’t going to repeat his father’s mistakes.
“Look, Carolina. I’m not going to turn into my dad. It’s true I chose to follow in his footsteps, but I chose the best part of his life to emulate. For me, being a Secret Service agent means doing it alone. I’m not going to let my career affect a family.”
“But if your career doesn’t give you any joy, then what’s the point? Don’t tell me you enjoy self-imposed suffering just so you can feel . . . patriotic?”
Her voice was full of disbelief—as it had been all day yesterday, and all day today. He was getting tired of it. Why couldn’t she just respect the fact that he knew his own mind?
He folded his arms and gave her a frosty smile. “So you’re saying I should choose to serve myself instead of my country?”
“That’s not what I meant.” With a sigh, she picked up a colander of potatoes and deposited them into a pot of boiling water. “I meant that there’s nothing wrong with having balance in your life. Let me rephrase—does putting one hundred percent of yourself into serving your country make you happy?”
He didn’t answer.
“I’m sure some people would answer yes,” she continued. “But there’s nothing wrong with saying no. It doesn’t make you a bad person. Didn’t you tell me once that I shouldn’t teach school because my unhappiness would eventually affect the students?” She waved a potholder at him. “Well, the same goes for you. Eventually, you’ll . . .” She trailed off, shaking her head.
“I’ll make a mistake? Get someone killed? Get you killed?”
“No! You’re twisting everything I say so that you don’t have to give me a straight answer.” She glared at him. “Which is actually disrespectful, if you think about it.”
“Well, excuse me, Miss Fulton. No disrespect intended.”
He glared back at her for a moment and then went into the living room to stare at the fire.
“What about you?” he found himself asking. “You’re pushing me to give up my career, but I haven’t seen you leave school yet. I never said I intended to quit my job, but you’ve been moaning about quitting school for the better part of a week. I’m not the one who can’t make a decision. I’m the one who sticks by my decisions. I’m not a coward, Carolina.”
A large clatter from the kitchen made him wince and a moment later, she stomped into the living room and jerked his arm around. “I never called you a coward,” she said fiercely.
“You might as well have.” He shrugged off her hand.
“Oh, come off it. Every time I talk to you about anything more serious than the weather, you get pricklier than a porcupine.”
“So now I’m a . . . forest rodent?”
Carolina let her head fall back in a silent scream. When she finished, she turned a resolute gaze on him. “You know what?”
“What?”
“I’m going to prove a point. Watch this.”
Jake watched as she whirled around and stomped over to the coffee table to grab her phone. “What are you doing?”
“Don’t worry, I’m not calling my daddy on you, Jake.”
He folded his arms. “That thought didn’t even cross my mind.”
And it hadn’t. Carolina was a force to be reckoned with, but she wasn’t petty and vindictive. Didn’t she realize that he didn’t see her that way? Frowning, he walked over to her. “Carolina . . .”
“Shh. It’s ringing.” She took a shuddering breath. “Oh, shit. It’s ringing.”
Jake stepped back and watched as she held the phone to her ear with shaking fingers. After a moment, her lips curved into her sunny, almost believable First Daughter smile.
“Hello, Dr. Richards. It’s Carolina Fulton.” She paused. “No, sir. I . . . can’t complete that section of my thesis, because I’m not going to complete my student teaching.” A pained look began to crumple the smile on her face, but she lifted her chin and began to bob her head. “That’s right. I’m sorry to tell you this, but I’ve given it a lot of thought and I’m sure it won’t come as a complete shock to you that I’ve decided not to pursue a career in education.”
Her chin began to tremble, but damned if her smile didn’t stay the same. She didn’t even fidget as she listened to the voice at the other end of the phone. As Jake stood there, perfectly still, watching her, a pang of sympathy rushed through his heart.
So many times he’d thought about his own boss’s reaction should he quit. Just the idea of the disappointment he’d cause had made him push all thoughts like that away. And now, here was Carolina—living it.
He raised his hand briefly, but returned it to his side when she glanced at him and turned her back. “Yes, Dr. Richards. In hindsight, it would have been wiser to rethink my career plans during my first semester instead of my last. But I’m not your typical student, am I?”
She listened for another moment and then walked into the kitchen. “Yes. I’m sorry, too. I’ll write a formal letter . . . and notify the rest of the department. Okay. Um, also, someone from the White House communications office will be contacting you to sort out the best way to make this public. Thank you in advance for being patient and I . . . well, thank you for everything.”
Slowly, Carolina lowered the phone and placed it on the counter. She stared down at it, and then straightened it. A second later, she was back at the sink, scrubbing potatoes again.
Jake let out a long-held breath. “Congratulations, Carolina.”
She didn’t answer.
The sound of crunching snow outside didn’t even make her turn her head, but Jake crossed to the door quickly, alert, and listening. “Who’s there?” he called.
“It’s me, handsome,” Regina called back.
Jake glanced at Carolina again. She shut off the water, grabbed a dish towel and retreated toward the hallway. He made a move to follow her, but leaving an aggressive old lady alone on a porch in the freezing cold? Not advisable. He opened the door.
“Regina. Nice to see you.”
She looked him up and down. “Likewise. And then some. You going to let me in or what?”
Jake stepped back. “Carolina is . . . she’s in the bathroom, I think.”
“Uh oh. What’s wrong?” Regina stomped her boots on the rug in front of the door and threw her gloves on the counter.
“Nothing.” He winked at her. She wasn’t buying it.
With a quick glance toward the hallway, Jake leaned in close to the older woman. “She just quit school. And I mean—just. About a minute before you knocked on the door.”
“You didn’t give me a chance to knock, Mr. Secret Service, but that’s irrelevant.”
Jake nodded and took her coat. “You want to go talk to her?”
“No. She’ll talk when she’s ready. What are we having for dinner?”
He took the scarf she handed to him and draped it over the back of the sofa. “Ham. It’s in the oven, the potatoes are boiling and most everything else is prepped. Of course I still need to chop some onion. Carolina likes onion mixed into her mashed potatoes.” He paused when he realized he was rambling. “You want a drink?”
He wanted to have one, but there was no way he would. He might have broken almost every other rule, but drinking on the job wasn’t going to be one of them.
“I don’t drink,” she announced, and then flopped into the President’s recliner and pulled up on the footrest. “Ahh. What I wouldn’t give for a chair like this.”
Jake stared at her for a moment and then at the stove, where a large pot of water hissed and bubbled. “I need to finish some things here.”
“You need to do a lot more than that, but it’s not my job to make you.” Regina smiled at him.
Jake pointed at her with a paring knife. “Remember you said that.” When she cackled in response, he gave her a quick smile and then chopped in silence for a few minutes. When he finished, he checked the oven and stood over the pot again, staring at the swirling steam He picked up a spatula and poked at the potatoes.
Carolina walked slowly into the living room and Jake paused. “Hey.”
“Hey.” She glanced at him and then turned to Regina. “Hi. I quit school.”
Regina flipped open a magazine. “I know.”
Jake pulled plates from a cabinet. “She was really brave.”
Neither woman commented nor looked at him, and he turned his attention back to the counter. So this is what it had come to—the true purpose of a Secret Service agent was apparently to shut up and prep vegetables. Great. But really, he’d stepped into this pile of shit with both feet and both eyes wide open. What an idiot.
He pulled out silverware and folded some paper napkins. There was complete silence behind him, aside from the crackling of the fire and the occasional cough. Why didn’t those women say something? Women were supposed to chatter, weren’t they? Or were they giving him the silent treatment to try and psych him out?
Like that would work—he’d had tons of training and there was no way Carolina and her geriatric buddy were going to get to him. He started whistling cheerfully and went to the refrigerator for a can of biscuits. They were kind of disgusting, but there wasn’t time to make the real thing and he didn’t have the ingredients anyway. He turned and smacked the can on the edge of the counter, chuckling in satisfaction when Carolina jumped at the popping noise. Meeting her glare with a grin, he flopped the cylinder of dough onto a paper towel and began separating it.
“What happened to your eye?” Regina asked suddenly.
Jake’s head shot up, and on instinct his hand flew to his face.
“Not you, genius,” Regina snapped. “Your girlfriend.”
Jake frowned. “She’s not—”
“I’m not his girlfriend,” Carolina cut him off.
“Really?” Regina struggled up from the recliner and peered at Carolina. “Then what are you?”
Jake forgot about the biscuits and stared at Carolina. She sat on the sofa, a pillow hugged to her chest. Her lips were a flat line.
“I’m the daughter of the president of the United States of America.” Carolina said finally.
Regina chuckled softly. “Good answer. So what happened to your eye?”
“My camera beat the crap out of me.” Carolina gave Regina a rueful smile.
“It won’t be the last time it does that,” Regina said.
Carolina just nodded.
There was silence again, aside from Jake’s whistling, which had slowed down quite a bit—his lips were getting tired.
Finally, Regina let out a long sigh. “Will you two make up already? I feel like a chaperone at a high school dance.”
“We’re not fighting,” Carolina offered weakly.
Regina shook her head and got to her feet. “Ugh. I’m not sure baked ham is worth sitting through dinner with you and Strong and Silent over there.”
“Okay, okay.” Carolina threw the pillow on the floor and jumped up. “I’m sorry, Regina. It’s just that . . .” She paused, wincing, “that it’s none of your business.”
“Amen to that,” Jake said quietly. He shoved a pan of biscuits into the oven next to the ham. Straightening up, he set the timer and then ventured a glance at the old woman. Her eyes were glittering like pale blue chips of ice.
“Fine,” Regina said. “I’ll just say one more thing and then I’ll shut my wrinkly old mouth.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve been a loner my entire life, except for the summer I turned thirty. I was up in Alaska, minding my own business, teaching a six-week university seminar on wildlife photography and out of nowhere . . . boom.” She threw her hands in the air. “I met the love of my life.”
Jake glanced at Carolina, who stood motionless, her lips slightly parted. “What happened?” she asked.
“He was one of my students. Or he would have been,” Regina answered. She went to the fire and sat on the raised-brick hearth, folding her hands between her knees. “I’d just been awarded a research grant and a one-year appointment to teach at the university he attended, and he was assigned to me as my student worker.”
“You were older than him?” Jake asked.
“No,” Regina answered, indignant. “He was five years older than me—a grad student. They come in all shapes, sizes, ages, and walks of life. Sometimes school is not just for the young and undecided.” She cast a meaningful look at Carolina, who merely smiled and walked over to sit next to Regina.
“What was his name?” Carolina asked.
Regina smiled back and threw her arm over Carolina’s shoulder. “Oh, sweetie. I can’t say it because I’d probably start crying. In fact, I need to change the subject soon, or I will anyway.”
Jake looked at her closely and saw a sheen in the old woman’s eyes. She glanced up, catching his gaze, and he looked away.
“We fell in love almost instantly and hid it from everyone. When the six weeks were up, I told him I had to give up the grant and the appointment because I didn’t want to compromise his career. He begged me not to do it, and I did anyway. End of story.” Regina twisted her lips to the side and nodded. “I just don’t want to see my story repeated, because it ended in lifelong regret.”
Carolina hugged her. “Couldn’t you look him up?”
“I did. He’s dead.” Her sharp eyes clouded with tears, Regina let out a shaky laugh. “Damned Internet. Always giving me information I never wanted to know.”
Jake’s heart twisted at the raw pain on Regina’s face and when the oven timer dinged, he turned to take out the food. “My God,” he muttered to himself.
“What is it, handsome?” Regina’s voice was full of forced bravery—she sounded a lot like Carolina did most of the time.
So Jake forced a smile in return. “Yuck. Canned biscuits always look like tiny brown hockey pucks.”
“Yum,” said Regina. “Let’s eat.” She walked into the kitchen.
Carolina laughed and after giving Regina a final squeeze, got up to drain the potatoes. She grabbed a potato masher and held it up. “Who wants to pulverize these?”
“Me,” answered Jake. He took the masher from Carolina and glanced down at Regina, who glared back. A second later, he offered it to her. “I’m not going to fight an old woman for a kitchen utensil.”
“You wish you could fight me,” she huffed, snatching the masher out of his hands.
He laughed. “Not really.”
“You know what my wish is?” She twirled the utensil in her gnarled fingers.
“What?” Jake replied.
“My wish is that you’ll be saying that exact same thing fifty years from now. To her.” She pointed at Carolina and then attacked the bowl of potatoes. “I hope my wish comes true.”
Me too, thought Jake. But he didn’t see how. He’d already put in for a transfer of duty. In a few short weeks, he’d be guarding one of Carolina’s sisters. She didn’t know and the thought of telling her made his heart squeeze painfully. He needed to tell her. But not today.