Rogenna Brewer - Marry Me, Marine

“For Hatch.” Will chuckled.

“Will’s a third-generation glassblower,” Mia bragged, while bouncing the fourth generation on her hip. Alex didn’t look much like his dad. But he looked more like a combination of his mom and dad than he did Hatch. That was a relief. Maybe he would grow up to be a glassblowing taxidermist. “Eyes are his specialty.”

“But I thought prosthetic eyes were made of silicone.” Angela looked to Hatch. He might not be an expert, but he had to know a little something about it.

“Silicone is more durable,” Will said. “But you can’t beat glass for appearances. Wait here?” he asked Hatch.

He nodded, but didn’t look pleased.

Folding her arms, Angela looked around, following Will and Mia with her gaze as they walked off. “Which is more comfortable?”

“You did not just ask me that,” he said.

“Sorry.” She shifted her eyes back to him. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. What are you wearing right now?”

“Why does this conversation remind me of a dirty phone call?”

Now that she knew he had a sense of humor, she could appreciate the subtlety of it. “So you wear nothing under that patch?”

“Didn’t you ever hear curiosity killed the cat?” He inclined his head toward a stuffed mountain lion. Or so she thought, until she saw the domesticated kitty curled up near the lion’s paw.

To her relief the kitty got up and stretched.

“It’s not like I asked you how you lost your eye. I mean, that would be rude, wouldn’t it? And I just assumed…” She looked down at her feet. “Because you were a Navy SEAL, it was a battlefield injury.”

“Silicone,” he said. “An empty socket isn’t all that comfortable. I caught a piece of shrapnel in the eye.”

“So why do you need the patch?”

“It’s practical.” He didn’t elaborate.

Will returned with a hinged case about the size of one for glasses, which he handed to Hatch. Angela got a peek inside when he opened it. She couldn’t believe the fine detail Will had achieved in the cobalt coloring and veining. The artisan beamed with pride as Hatch nodded in appreciation.

“What’s the suction cup thingy for?”

Hatch frowned at her. “When are you leaving?”

“As soon as you feed me and fix my car.” Her stomach growled on cue.

“Then I guess we’d better get going.”

Saying goodbye to the Stewarts, Angela plugged Mia’s number into her cell phone, though a play date for Alex and Ryder was doubtful. She wouldn’t be in these parts much longer. Still, she didn’t really have all that many friends after having dropped out of high school pregnant. It was always nice to add someone to her social network.

Hatch held the truck door for her. “What’s so funny?” he asked when she gave a nervous laugh.

“Nothing,” she said, tucking her phone away. Mia had just sent a text explaining the suction cup, which was used to position the glass eye and remove it.

“You do know you’re damn inconvenient for a marriage of convenience.”

A SHORT WHILE LATER THEY pulled up in front of a turn-of-the-century brick Victorian with a powder-blue roof and beige, blue and white gingerbread trim. The plaque beside the door declared the place a historical landmark, while the sign out front identified it as Maddie’s Boarding House. Est. 1829

Nowhere near as old as the establishment, Hatch’s aunt Maddie met them at the door. She wore colorful layers of loose crinkle skirts and cotton shirts. Angela wouldn’t have been surprised to find a crystal ball somewhere in the house.

Maddie held her at arm’s length, looking her over from top to bottom. “I thought you said she was pregnant.”

“I said no such thing and you know it.”

“Wishful thinking on my part, then.” Maddie returned her attention to Angela. “Welcome! Never mind me. It’s my job to give the boy a hard time. Thirty is a good age for a man to settle down and start a family.”

Thirty. That’s how old he was.

His aunt ushered them inside. Where Judge Booker T. Shaw was seated at the dining room table. He stood and nodded as they entered the room. “Clay, Angela.”

Hatch didn’t seem all that surprised to find the judge at his aunt’s. Which would explain why he hadn’t been afraid to tell the judge exactly what he’d wanted in the way of a wedding ceremony.

She, on the other hand, had prepared herself for the “to have and to hold” version, justifying this in her mind as words said every day by people who later regretted them. She felt relieved not to have entered into that lie.

Especially now that she’d come face-to-face with the judge again. “Your Honor.”

“Judge will do, Ms. Adams.”

“Angela, please.”

“I hope you’re hungry.” Maddie showed Angela where to wash up, and had her seated by the time Hatch came down the stairs a few minutes later.

He’d done more than just wash up. He’d trimmed his beard and pulled back his hair. What couldn’t be pulled back fell in damp waves around his face. He still wore his eye patch. Which meant what?

He didn’t like his new eye? Or was he just that self-conscious? He didn’t seem like the self-conscious type.

For whatever reason, he chose to present an in-your-face tough-guy image to the world. Which left her to conclude that the patch covered the vulnerability she’d glimpsed earlier and not just his prosthetic eye.

“So, Angela,” Maddie said as she sat next to the judge. “I’d say you went above and beyond the call of duty to join the Marines.”

Hatch was the one who’d gone above and beyond. “I just did what I had to.”

“Be sure to tell Calhoun I’ll be collecting,” Hatch said. “From him, not from you.”

He must have added that qualification because he’d seen the look of panic in her eyes. She didn’t like being indebted. And she knew he would come away with nothing from their arrangement except being lighter by a few dollars. Which she intended to pay back.

Before helping himself, he passed the bread basket from Maddie to her.

“Thank you.” Angela set a homemade roll on her plate.

She couldn’t recall the last time she’d sat down for a meal like this. Must have been that last Thanksgiving with her parents. And here it was not even a week away from that holiday.

“What made you choose the military?” the judge asked.

“My dad got his start in the Navy as a photographer and went on to make a career of it after he got out.” She broke the crusty roll in half as Hatch passed her the butter.

“Explains why you tried the Navy first.” She shouldn’t be surprised he remembered that from their earlier conversation. “You can choose any branch of the service.”

“Said the Navy man.” She wondered if he missed it. Her father had always spoken of his service with pride. “I didn’t choose the Marine Corps—it chose me.” The Navy recruiter had seen a single mom. The Marine recruiter saw beyond the single mom to what she wanted to be.

“What does your mother do?” Maddie asked.

“She was a volcanologist. Both my parents were killed in a plane crash four years ago.” Angela took her time spreading butter on the roll. She hadn’t been on board, but hadn’t flown in a plane since.

“I’m so sorry, dear.” Maddie touched Hatch’s forearm as if he’d pass her sincerity along, the way he did the meatball stroganoff and the green beans.

He didn’t reach out to her. But Angela shrugged off the sympathy just the same. Normally the platitudes “at least they died together” or “at least they died doing what they loved” followed such expressions of condolence. All that meant was she’d lost both parents.

“I was homeschooled until high school. A family vacation for us was a trip to Yosemite to see the supervolcanoes. That’s where my folks met. She was working on her master’s thesis and he was shooting a coffee table book.”