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Chapter 13

John already recognized her before he could even see that there was a nightclub close by. Clara was sitting on a bollard, her jacket loosely swung around her shoulders and her shoes in her hand. He pulled the car up right next to her and got out. Her face lit up when she saw him and John found himself smiling back. Clara immediately got to her feet and tumbled in his direction.

"Hey, party animal," John greeted her with a smile, placing his hand around her waist for support, "Are you okay?"

Clara nodded, her head resting against his arm as she leaned on him with all her weight.

"Couldn't find Amy and Martha?" he asked.

"No," Clara replied, "They'll take a taxi."

"Alright, let's get you home, lightweight," John said as he swept her up, Clara uttering a small sound of surprise, and carried her to the passenger door, gently setting her down in the car seat of his van. He tried very hard not to notice how short the hemline of her dress was. Clara, whether she knew or not, was still his daughter in law and he shouldn't be thinking about things like that. John needed to remind himself of that whenever he saw her. He climbed into the driver's seat and threw Clara another glance while she fastened the seat belt.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked again.

"Amy an' Martha are stupid," Clara drawled, "An' 'm tired."

John laughed. "What makes you say that? Have they said something mean?"

"Nothin'. 'twas abou' men."

"You should send them a message. Tell them you're home and that you're okay. They'll be looking for you," he said and reached behind his seat, pulling out a water bottle that he handed to Clara, "And you should drink that."

"Thanks."

John started the engine and drove in the direction of home, but noticed that the traffic was growing heavier.

"Is there an event in the city that has just ended or what?" he asked, though Clara didn't reply. Instead she typed something into her phone. When she was done, she rested her head against his shoulder.

"Thanks for pickin' me up," she said earnestly.

"No problem at all. If you get sick, just yell and I'll pull up, okay?"

He felt her nod against his shoulder.

"Anything else I can do? Are you hungry? It's late but I'm sure we can find a McDonald's."

"Sounds nice," Clara replied.

"Okay. Try to sleep. I'll wake you when we get there."

For a moment he thought that she had already fallen asleep when Clara suddenly spoke again. "You're perfect," she said against the fabric of his jacket.

"What?" John asked, laughing shyly.

"Y'are. I dunno what they've agains' you. I don' care."

"You talked about me? With Amy and Martha?" John knew that he shouldn't ask. Clara was drunk and she would probably tell him things that she would never tell him if she was sober.

"They said y're old," Clara slurred, "I don' think y're old. And 'tis not true. I don' have a crush on you. I'm with Alex. I jus' like you."

Clara lifted her head and stared right at him, her eyes slightly unfocused. For a moment he looked back.

"I though 'bout kissin' ye, ye know?"

John quickly turned his eyes back on the road. "You can't kiss me, Clara," he said sharply, "That would be very inappropriate."

Immediately Clara slumped back down, head against his arm and she sighed.

"Ye can skip McDonald's. Jus' take 'm home."

John was just about to reply when suddenly Clara's mobile phone started ringing and she answered it as fast as she could.

"I'm okay," she said into the phone, "Sorry. Couldn' find ye. . . No, almos' home. See ya."

"Your friends?" he asked.

"Yeah, jus' checkin' in. All good."

They drove home in silence, Clara's head nestled against his shoulder the entire time, though whether she was asleep or not, John couldn't tell. At some point he reached behind his seat and pulled out a jacket, covering Clara's legs to which she murmured a thank you before falling silent again.

It was two in the morning when he finally parked his van in the driveway and Clara stirred next to him, grabbing her shoes and pushing away his jacket.

"Did you sleep a little?" John asked quietly.

"Not really," Clara replied, looking at him. Her eyes were red and she looked utterly tired, "I hate clubbing, did I mention that?"

"Come on, then, let's get you to bed."

Clara held his arm as they made their way across the street, although John had the impression that she could walk fine on her own now that she had sobered up a little. Also, she complained about being hungry.

"I told you we could stop for food!"

"Yeah, well, we didn't," Clara said as she stepped into the house, "But I've got everything for sandwiches here. Want one?"

John had to admit that he was quite hungry as well, having skipped dinner earlier, so he agreed and followed her inside the kitchen where Clara immediately set out to prepare the food.

"Let me," he said gently, taking the sliced bread from her hands, "How about you make us some coffee?"

As he prepared two large sandwiches, he watched Clara retrieving two capsules from a drawer and placing one of them in an oddly looking coffee maker.

"I've never tried coffee made from capsules. Is it any good?"

She gave a slight shrug. "I like it. Alex hates it. But it's faster than regular coffee."

Five minutes later they were both sitting at the kitchen table, sipping their hot beverages and eating their sandwiches in silence. John watched her and what she had said earlier weighed heavy in his mind. Yes, Clara had been drunk and probably she hadn't meant it, but he still felt like it was something that needed to be addressed for both their sakes.

"Clara," he began, "We're sort of friends, right?"

She looked up at him, her beautiful eyes much clearer than now than they had been earlier. She laughed a little nervously. "Not just sort of, I hope. But yeah, we're friends, why?"

He hated this conversation already, but he needed to get this off his chest. "I really like you and I enjoy the time we spend together. I like the thing we have, that we help each other out and that we can just have fun together."

Clara furrowed her brows slightly. "So do I, but why are you saying that? Why now?"

John looked down at his sandwich, trying to gather his thoughts, thinking about how to begin. "What you said earlier," he paused, "There can't be anything else between us than that."

He looked up at her, looked right into her face but he couldn't read any kind of emotion from it.

"I know," she replied immediately, "I know that. Forget what I said earlier, it was silly."

"Because you have Alex and I am old enough to be your father. It just wouldn't be right, you know?" he added quickly. John couldn't bring himself to lie to her and tell her that some part of him wouldn't want to.

"I know," Clara reassured him, "And don't worry. It didn't even have anything to do with you, really. It's just that when I drink," she added nervously, "I get the urge to kiss the nearest male I see, which is usually Alex, but when I was at your place, you know, the night with the scotch, I was briefly thinking about it. I told Amy and Martha and they laughed at me. It was silly. And it meant nothing at all, believe me. We're friends. And I like it that way."

John let out a deep sigh. "Good," he finally said, "I'm relieved. Because I really do like you and I'd like us to remain friends."

Clara nodded, smiling at him. "And while we're at the topic. You are a great friend. Thanks for picking me up tonight."

"No problem," he pointed at her empty plate, "And now off to bed with you."

He rose from his chair and Clara followed his example.

"Can I hug you goodbye though?" she asked with a smirk, "It's what friends do."

John rolled his eyes at her but couldn't hide the smile on his face for long. "Yeah, I'm kind of getting used to that."

A few seconds later Clara's arms were swung around him and her face was nuzzled against his chest. He closed his arms around her back, one of his hands wandering to her head, gently keeping it in place.

"Admit it, you like the hugs now," she said against the fabric of his shirt and he could hear the amusement in her voice.

"Yes," he said, "Yes, I do."

Before he could stop himself, John bent down and placed a kiss on Clara's forehead before stepping out of their embrace.

"There," he said, "That's all the kissing you will get."

Clara gave him a tired smile that was at the same time so full of gratitude.

"Good night, John," she whispered.