29. Mother Knows Best

When Michael walked into the house through the garage late in the afternoon he found Kate, as expected, in the kitchen, standing at the stove with her back towards him. He smiled. It was her favorite room in the house. Katherine Spencer Allen loved to cook. However, her affinity for this spot went beyond mere food preparation. Whenever he arrived home, more often than not, she was here waiting for him. He knew their daughter's experience was much the same. She was always there for them. Over the years, she'd proven to be the perfect Navy wife: strong, independent and yet willing to embrace and make the most of their time together without regret or recrimination. And she'd done a remarkable job raising their daughter.

"Something smells delicious," he exclaimed. "Is that my favorite cornbread stuffing?"

Kate jumped. Turning around to face him with her free hand pressed against the base of her neck, she said, "You scared me. I didn't hear you come in."

He closed the distance between them. "Sorry," he told her as he kissed her on the cheek. As he pulled back he studied her close. "Something on your mind?"

"Yes. No. I don't know," she stammered with a furrowed brow. "I was thinking about Mackenzie and Rod. You know, she doesn't ever say much. I expected him… Well, I expected him to be different—more flashy, less real, if that makes sense."

"I think I understand." He'd spent the day thinking about this young man and his relationship with his only child. It had proven most distracting and of no benefit to his golf game. He couldn't quite put his finger on it but there was something familiar about young Calloway—in his demeanor, his manner, and even his name. It was nothing bad he was sure, but nevertheless, it was unsettling to him. Unable to restrain himself, he reached in to sample the stuffing. "Delicious," he told his wife as he licked his finger. "And have you reached any conclusions?"

"I like him, Michael," she answered with a sigh, though her brow was still etched with concern. "Much more than I thought I would. I don't know what I really expected. They just fit. It's obvious he loves her. And she loves him. I'm sure of it. But…"

"But you worry?" he asked indulgently.

"Yes."

He took the big spoon from her hand, turned off the stove and led her to the table.

Kate took a deep breath as she sat down. "You know how she was when she came home from Jerusalem for Christmas, and how she was still when she returned after graduation six months later." Kate looked at her husband, the man she'd loved since she was fifteen. They'd been lucky to find each other when they were so young and when life was relatively uncomplicated. "The light in her countenance—her joy in living—was gone, completely wiped out. She put on a happy face and immersed herself in her work. But emotionally she'd shut down. You know that. And yes, it's gotten better the past two and a half years. I worry though that it's only because she's learned to bury the pain and avoid it rather than truly moving on."

"What makes you say that?" he asked. "To me, she seems back to her old self—particularly after last night."

"I don't know," she acknowledged. "Mother's intuition, I guess. Yes, the light was back last night and today. And it terrifies me."

"Why? I don't understand."

"I know. I'm not sure I understand either." She looked at her husband more closely. "Does Rod see beneath the surface, do you think? I mean, does he truly know and understand her? Does he know what she went through? Understand that her strong and confident demeanor is both who she is and also a mask to hide the pain and fear?"

He took her hand and gently caressed her knuckles with his thumb. "Honey, I don't have those answers. I wish I did. Look, I know you worry. So do I. But I trust your judgment. What do your instincts tell you about him and about their relationship?"

She sighed. "I realize we haven't had much time with him. Maybe that's why I'm unsure. He definitely comes from money, but he doesn't seem to be spoiled or self-absorbed. Obviously, her height doesn't bother him. Doesn't it strike you as unusual though that he's not at all intimidated by her intelligence and position as Editor in Chief? He's a first year and she's a third year."

"You're right. He doesn't appear to be a typical first semester graduate student. He seems more certain than that—more sure."

"And yet beneath the confidence, there's a quiet strength to him, and a gentleness, I think. I can't believe I'm saying this. We only met him today. But he may be exactly the man she needs."

This time it was his turn to take a deep breath. His wife was rarely wrong about people. Was he ready to lose his little girl? "You may be right," he commented. "Wouldn't that be a good thing?"

"Yes," she told him. "It would be wonderful. But does he see it that way? More to the point, does she? Has she moved on? Is she ready and willing to open her heart fully again? And does he understand what a precious gift that would be?" She paused and shook her head. "It would kill me to see her hurt again."

"I would kill the bastard."

Kate couldn't stop the smile that appeared at his simple yet unequivocal response. "But what if she's the one responsible for the hurt? What if she's too afraid to open up? Or what if she doesn't know how to accept the past for what it is and move on to embrace the present and future?" She paused, her brow again becoming furrowed. "I sense she's holding back and I'm not sure she's even aware of it. And what if she doesn't recognize it? Doesn't come to grips with it?"

"I don't know." He held on to her hand tighter. "What I do know is this: Last night and this morning our daughter was back. Maybe she has let go of the past. We'll just have to pray that she has and that he is that man we want him to be." He brought her hand tenderly to his lips. Afterwards he said, "There is one thing…"

"What?"

"I wish we knew more about his family and his background. What are his parents like? His siblings? How is he like with them? I would feel better if I knew more—understood more—about where he comes from, how he was raised, and what his expectations are for her and their relationship."

Kate laughed silently. His calm, unconcerned demeanor was nothing more than an act and an attempt to comfort and reassure her. He was, in fact, as worried as she—worried that Rod wasn't good enough for his daughter—his pride and joy. "Does that mean you plan to play big, bad military dad and interrogate him over dinner?"

"Maybe," he conceded with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Well, Admiral, you don't need to learn everything about him tonight. You'll have more time with him and the entire Calloway family tomorrow."

"What are you talking about?"

"We're having Sunday dinner with his family."

"We are?" He was surprised. "When did that happen?"

"Elizabeth Calloway called me this afternoon and made the invitation. We had a nice chat. She was easy to talk to—no pretension, very down to earth. And, of course, I accepted."

"Of course," he responded dryly. "What did Mac say about it? I mean, she does know about it, doesn't she?" Their daughter on occasion didn't cope well with surprises—like this appeared to be.

"She's fine with it," Kate assured him with a knowing smile.

"That's a relief. Where is she, anyway? I thought she'd be here helping you. Did she at least call?"

"Don't worry," she chuckled. "You won't need to ground her or send her to timeout."

"Kate…"

"She's out with Rod and his twin sisters. They came back early this afternoon. I had things well in hand and told her to go. Somehow she'd convinced him to take the girls shopping this afternoon so I thought it only fair that he at least have her company."

"Poor guy," Michael muttered. "Nothing worse than an afternoon at the mall with three women."

"His sisters are terrific, by the way—personable and polite, particularly for teenagers. Much like he is, in fact. The three of them are clearly close. And Mac seemed relaxed, open and at ease with them which..."

"Which is unusual for our reserved daughter considering she met them only this morning. See," he told her, "there's probably nothing to worry about. And if something to the contrary comes out at dinner, it's not too late to lock her in that tall tower or pull out my sword and challenge him to a duel."

"Thanks. It's nice having this conversation in person rather than long distance over the phone."

"Yes, it is." He gave her hand a final squeeze and stood up. "I'll quickly shower and change and then come back to help you."

XXXXXXXXXX

Michael was setting the table when Rod and Mackenzie arrived. He heard their laughter long before they saw him in the dining room, which was located to the right of the front entry hall.

"It's about time you got home, baby," he called out. "I thought you were going to help your Mom."

Rod and Mac looked at each other.

"Are we in trouble?" he whispered to her. "Because this isn't exactly how I hoped this evening would go."

"I don't think so," she whispered back. "At least I hope not."

"Hi, Dad," she said cheerfully as they joined him in the dining room.

"Sorry, we're late, sir," Rod interjected. "It's all my fault."

Michael immediately noticed all the shopping bags he was carrying. "Rod, I know all about what happens when you put my daughter and a shopping mall together. Somehow I doubt those bags you're carrying have anything to do with you." With a knowing look he asked, "The real question is how you managed to survive the experience?"

Before Rod could answer, Kate entered the room carrying a beautiful pork roast. Looking at the new arrivals, she said, "Good. You're just in time." She, too, immediately noticed all the shopping bags and the new clothes on Mac. "You had a successful afternoon, I see. Get rid of that stuff and let's eat."

"Be right back," Mac said to her parents before turning to Rod. Reaching for the shopping bags she told him, "I can take those now."

He shook his head. "No need. I've got them. Just lead the way."

"Thanks."

As Kate watched them head for the stairs, she noticed that not only was her daughter wearing new clothes, but new four-inch heels, too. Very revealing, she thought.