"Slice for the road. Eat it in the truck, sweet pea. Don't wait on him."
Callie laughs out loud, full and free, and the sound stops me. It's the first time I've heard her laugh from her belly since she walked into the garage. The first thing through my head is that I want to spend the rest of my life making her laugh this hard.
***
I drive the twelve miles back with the bag of pie in her lap, the heat of the cab around us, the laugh still in my ears.
She talks more on the drive back than on the drive in. About Lou's hands moving over the dough, about the rhythm of the kitchen, about the boy at the counter who asked her three times when the pies would be ready. There's real color in her voice.
"I haven't done something this useful with my hands in a long time," she says. "Not for anyone outside my own four walls."
She is glowing with it. I keep my eyes on the road and let her fill the cab.
A mile from the turn for the dirt road I pull onto the shoulder.
She looks at me.
"Three things I want to tell you before we get back."
"Okay."
"One. Lou's taken to you, and Lou doesn't take to many people. If you ever need a place to be that isn't my house, you go to Lou's. She'll keep you until I come get you."
"All right."
"Two. The Sunday is a standing thing if you want it. She'll have you back every week. You're out of the house, and I know you're safe."
"I want to keep coming."
"Good."
"And three?"
I take my eyes off the road and meet hers.
"Three is that there's a man named Colonel Thorne. He was part of what happened to Danny. I haven't worked out yet whether he's a real threat to you or not, but until I know for sure I want you close, where I can keep an eye on you, where I can protect you. I owe you the whole story. Not today, but I'm telling you now so you know it's coming."
She's quiet for a long beat.
"Okay."
"I'm not going to put it off forever, Callie."
"I know."
"You're patient with me. I see it. I'm asking you for a little more of it, just for a while longer."
"You have it. Danny didn't trust easily, and he trusted you. The rest is in your eyes, and they haven't lied to me once."
My hands tighten on the wheel for the last mile of dirt road.
I pull into the gravel drive and kill the engine. She gets out before I can come around to her side, carries the bag of pie up the porch in front of me, kicks off her boots at the door, and disappears inside.
I stand out there a minute longer with her laugh still in my ears and the cold air in my lungs.
The line holds today. But it's getting harder to pretend the problem is only that I want her.
I like her. That's a different fight. And I'm not sure it's one I'll be able to win.
