Isabelle couldn’t argue. Their friend had always been a happy, positive person, but Bodie had brought a whole new level of joy to her life.
“Besides,” Sophie continued, hugging the pillow. “You really need to stop judging every person who’s been in the military by what Dad did. Dad was the exception, Isabelle. Not Cole or Bodie, and probably not Zach, either.”
Ouch. She and Sophie rarely discussed their father and hadn’t mentioned him since the dress fitting. That she was trying to track the man down for her sister didn’t mean she wanted to talk about him. She didn’t.
“I know that not every person who has been in the military suffers with transitioning back into civilian life the way that Dad did.” She shrugged. “I know that most don’t. Thank goodness. Maybe they try harder than Dad did.”
Sophie’s face was aghast. “You think Dad didn’t try to fit into our lives? Just because he was the exception doesn’t mean he didn’t want to fit in. He did.”
Isabelle’s skin prickled to where she suspected whelps were popping out. She stroked Bobbin’s length again, letting her fingers curl around his long tail, hoping it would calm her. “Let’s not have this conversation.”
“I think we should,” Sophie surprised her by saying. “I know I was younger when Dad left, but I don’t think his leaving was an easy decision.”
“Like you said, you were younger.” And because she’d rather discuss anything other than their father, she asked something that would redirect Sophie. “What do you think I should pack for my picnic with Zach? I don’t know what he likes.”
Sophie eyed her for a moment, then made a decision. The right one. “He likes Christmas cookies because I saw him munching on several tonight.”
“And Ruby’s Christmas sausage balls.” Isabelle sighed with relief that Sophie had let her get away with the subject change. “I thought he and Bodie were going to fight over who got them when Ruby started packing up and wanted to know if anyone wanted the leftovers.”
“Well, there you go. Cookies and sausage balls.” Sophie smiled. “My thoughts are that he doesn’t care what y’all eat, Izzy. It’s your company he’s after.”
Her pulse pounded. “I’m not sure why. We don’t get along.”
“I’ve always heard opposites attract.”
“Maybe.” Isabelle picked up Bobbin, stroking the cat’s fur. “Why am I stressing over this? I told him I’d pack sandwiches and that’s what I’ll do. I’ll slice an apple and bring some yogurt. It’ll be fine.” If it wasn’t, too bad. He shouldn’t have put her on the spot that way in front of her sister. Hugging Bobbin close, she leaned over and kissed Sophie’s cheek. “Thanks for the pep talk, sis. It’s been a long day and I’m tired.”
Sophie said good night.
Then, as she reached the door, Isabelle stopped her. “Hey, Sophie? Don’t make a big deal out of lunch with Zach, okay? Because it’s really not.”
It wasn’t, but that didn’t keep Isabelle from seeing his grinning face when, after getting ready for bed, she crawled between her sheets. Bobbin leapt up beside her, deciding sleeping by her head was where he deigned to be. Once he settled down, his long tail plopped across her face.
Brushing away his tail, Isabelle rolled toward the cat, who yawned, then closed his eyes, leaving Isabelle a little envious of his easy slumber.
“I don’t like Zach, Bobbin. I really, really don’t.”
*
A pleasant blendof cinnamon and pine hit Zach the moment he stepped into The Threaded Needle. Although the walls were white, color splashed everywhere. Christmas was prominent, but there were themed areas featuring other holidays, colors, babies, kids, sports teams, and military. His gaze lingered on the military section with its intricate red, white, and blue quilt proudly displayed. Stars with perfectly angled points ran across the quilt diagonally and arrows bordered the edges. Immediately, he was drawn to that display, taking in the patriotic fabrics, surrounding supplies, and the quilt’s intricate stitching.
“If you touch that quilt, you have to buy it,” Isabelle scolded from where she’d walked up behind him.
Even over the shop’s merry fragrance, he could smell her apple pie lotion and fought the urge to deeply inhale as he turned toward her. She wore a fuzzy, green, long-sleeved sweater. Her hair fell straight, framing her face. Her blue gaze stared at the army star on his chest. Sarah had suggested he change. He’d declined. He liked keeping his wardrobe simple and had packed accordingly, bringing only a handful of T-shirts, jeans, and a few workout items.
“Buying such a beauty wouldn’t be a bad thing.” Not that he believed her warning, but if so, it would be a nice addition to his rather barren DC condominium and would give him something to mimic if he ever ventured beyond making blocks. “How much do I owe you?”
“Actually, you’re in luck, as that particular quilt isn’t available.” She almost sounded disappointed that he’d acquiesced so readily. “Sophie plans to donate it to Quilts of Valor.”
“The organization Sarah sews for?” That he also sewed for, but he wasn’t ready to share that with Isabelle.
She nodded. “Sophie heads up the local chapter and Sarah is an active member.”
Studying her, he asked, “You’re not a member?”
“No.” She didn’t elaborate, and she didn’t need to.
Her annoyed expression was answer enough. Yeah, he’d just keep his own active membership to himself.
