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For the next forty minutes, we sat and went through the first few problems until he was able to solve the last few on his own
"Wow," he exclaimed. "I can't believe it. Usually, only my dad can explain it to me.”
“I bet you miss him,” I commented.
He glanced up at me. “Sometimes I hate that he's in the Navy. It takes him away a lot. I mean, doesn't he love us enough to do something else?" Anger tinted his cheeks red and punctuated his movements as he roughly shoved everything into his backpack.
I helped Ethan pack up while I thought about how to best answer his question. "Ethan, I'm no expert, but there are a lot of different kinds of dads out there. Some have jobs that require them to be gone for periods of time. Others spend long hours on the job or have other dangerous jobs. Some coach their son's sports team. But one thing I think all good dads have in common is to make sure their kids are taken care of. Your dad has chosen an honorable job of servi
ng his country. He works long, hard hours and gives up a lot of what he'd rather be doing to make sure you have a safe country to grow up in. I'm pretty sure your dad would love nothing more than to be at home with you, and your brothers and sister, and your mom. So even though he's not here every day, that's not how to judge how much he loves you. He has a job most don’t have the courage to do, and you should be proud of him."
"But isn't choosing to be in the military choosing to leave your family?" he challenged sullenly.
I shook my head. "It isn't the same at all,” I answered firmly. “Like I said, you can't measure how much he loves you only by the number of hours he's at home. Some dads come home every night, but don't worry about whether their kid has enough food to eat or electricity to keep them warm at night. Some drink or gamble. You’re old enough to know what I mean."
Ethan hung his head. "Was your dad in the military?"
“No.” I shook my head; he didn't need to know what kind of dad I had.
Ethan was silent for a minute, and I suspected he was working out all I’d said. He blew out a breath and nodded. "I guess you're right. It’s hard, but I hadn't thought of it that way. I just sometimes get kind of scared something bad’s gonna happen to him like Uncle Holt.”
“All the more reason to be proud of him and appreciate how hard he works.”
He nodded his head. “Thanks for helping me with my math."
I gave him a one-armed hug. "Any time, Ethan. Just have your mom call your Uncle Holt if you need more help. He can get me a message."
"I definitely will," a deep voice sounded from the other side of the room. He approached the table and rubbed his nephew's head. "Go find your mom. She's got some dessert for you."
As Ethan had scurried off for his treat, I tried to follow, but Holt stepped in front of me. "A numbers girl, huh?”
I shrugged. “Numbers don’t lie.”
“They can be manipulated to prove what people want,” he challenged.
“That’s people doing it, not the numbers,” I reminded him.
He nodded thoughtfully. “True.” He jerked his head in the direction Ethan had gone. “I heard everything you said to him."
I peered at him. "I just wanted to help him see his dad in a better light."
"I think there's more to it. I heard what you didn't say, too. I suspect your insight about bad fathers comes firsthand?"
I shrugged but avoided looking at him.
Holt sighed. "You're really a closed book, aren't you, Maddy?"
"Some stories aren't worth reading, Holt," I answered quietly.
"But you're worth it, Madelyn. You have to know that." The sincerity in his voice drew my focus back to his face. His eyes were so intense as they burned into mine that I swayed on my feet. The hand I reached out to catch myself landed on his chest where I could feel nothing but solid muscle.
I tried to withdraw my hand, but Holt's fingers encircled my wrist and kept it pinned to him. His other hand gently held my chin in place so that it was hard to look away. My pulse fluttered wildly as his head moved fractionally toward mine. I didn't have much experience to draw from, but I was pretty sure he was leaning in to kiss me.
And I wanted it.
I longed to feel what his lips would feel like against my own; to feel, even for a moment, what it was like to be wanted as a woman. Instinctively, I started to stretch up on my toes to meet him halfway, my eyes never leaving his as they grew darker, closer...
His cell phone rang and vibrated between us.
