“And Amy?”
“She quit and stomped upstairs.”
“Oh, dear.” Fiona started to rise.
John’s hand on her arm stopped her. “She’ll get over
it.”
She hesitated, then sank back down. “I know she
will. I just think it’s important that we all get along,
stuck together the way we are.”
Dieter finished a bite. “Amy’s always mad at
somebody.”
Fiona had noticed that the girl didn’t take being
teased very well. Later, she’d try talking to her. Maybe
she’d open up the way Willow had.
“You may spread the word,” she said, “that you’re all
off the hook for preparing dinner.” She held up a hand.
“On the other hand, I think we’ve worked our way
around to you, Troy and Hopper for cleanup.”
He groaned melodramatically.
“Come on, how long did it take you to wash the
dishes after breakfast? Twenty minutes?”
“Yeah, but spaghetti’s lots worse than scrambled
eggs.” Taking his apple, he retreated.
Fiona decided it was high time to do the same. She
took a last swallow of coffee and stood to take her cup
to the sink. “I,” she announced, “am going to find a book
to read. In my room. I might even take a nap.”
John Fallon’s mouth relaxed into another of those
near-smiles. “Good for you.”
“But don’t start cooking without me, okay? I feel
guilty enough at the work we’ve put you to.”
“If necessary, I’ll wake you up before I start
dinner,” he agreed.
“Okay.” She started across the kitchen. “Don’t let the
kids bug you for anything.”
“I’ll send them to bug you instead.”
She gave him a last look, said, “Do that,” and pushed
through the swinging door. She felt as if she’d just made
a near-escape even as she wished she’d stayed to talk.
Maybe to ask him what his dreams as a child had been.
No, he was undoubtedly relieved to have a couple of
hours to himself.
Although…he had invited her to sit down with him
in the first place.
CHAPTER FIVE
JOHN COULDN’T REMEMBER enjoying a day more since
before he’d gone overseas. He was hungry to learn more
about Fiona, and regretted it every time she walked
away to deal with the kids.
He couldn’t figure out why he didn’t feel disdain and
even contempt for someone who struck him as remarkably naive. These days, most teenagers like her charges had long since shed their innocence. Yet
somehow she’d held on to a basically sunny faith that
other people had good intentions.
What would someone like her make of Iraq now, he
found himself wondering, with its confusion of loyalties and ancient hatreds and modern, militant Islamic fanatics? How would she deal with the sight of a
recently beheaded hostage, a man who’d come over
with no interest in war or politics, intending only to
work in the oilfields and make the extra money that
would get his family out of debt?
John found, to his surprise, that he didn’t want to
know how she’d react. He thanked God she’d never seen
anything so horrific, and hoped she never would. There
was a place for her kind of optimism in the world, even
if he couldn’t share it. Her happy little glow was occasionally contagious, and how could that be a bad thing?
He hoped he would have to wake her from her nap.
Of course, if she didn’t wander downstairs herself, he
should send one of the girls, but John persuaded himself
that she wouldn’t want one of her students to see her so
vulnerable. What if she snored? Drooled? Talked in her
sleep? Within a day of getting back to Hawes Ferry,
every kid in her high school would know. She’d be at
the front of the class lecturing, and hear a soft snore from
the back of the room followed by an eruption of giggles.
He’d be doing her a favor, waking her up himself.
He watched the clock, which moved with infuriating slowness. The moment it reached four-thirty, he rose to his feet. Half the kids still lounged downstairs,
while four of them had disappeared. Their teacher
would undoubtedly have worried, but John didn’t care