Various States of Undress (20 page)

She’d taken the risk, though. She wasn’t about to give up now. Even so, her courage only stretched so far, and at this moment, she wanted nothing more than to talk to her own dad. Before her anxiety ramped up another notch, she dialed his number.

He picked up quickly. “Hi, there. The prodigal daughter emerges from a snowdrift to call her father, I take it?” Patrick said with a chuckle.

She smiled at her dad’s familiar wry tone. “Something like that.”

“How’s it going?”

“Great. Snow as high as the front door the day after we . . . I got here. You would have loved it.”

Patrick sighed. “I miss it. Not sure when I’ll get out there next with my schedule.”

“You have time to talk for a few?” Carolina fiddled with the edge of the bedspread.

“Sure. Is there something particular you wanted to discuss?”

“Um . . .” Her heart sped up again, and her mouth jumped one step ahead of her brain. “I’m going to take a break from school,” she blurted out.

Oh, no
. She couldn’t take that back.

Patrick whistled. “What brought this on?”

Like she could tell him the whole story.
Shit.
But she had to say something. Part of the truth would be good.

“My heart’s not in education.” She shrugged, even though she knew he couldn’t see it. “Don’t blame Regina, but she’s very inspiring . . . for a lot of reasons. The more photos I take, the more right that career path seems to me. I’m happy with a camera in my hands, and I know I’d be happier in a photography program.”

“Happy is good.” Patrick paused. “Okay. I can respect happy. When are you thinking of letting the school know?”

Up until this point, she hadn’t thought of anything but quitting. She had no idea that
staying
in school would even cross her mind, but when she talked to her dad, she usually came up with the best decisions . . . without even realizing that she was doing it. A trace of a smile lifted her lips.

“As soon as I can work up the courage.”

“You will. But could you let the communications office know as well, so they can spin it? There’s no point in you being stabbed half to death by the press again.”

Her shoulders sagged. “Oh, Dad. I’m sorry about that. I—”

“I’m not blaming you. Hell, I’m so proud of you I could burst. Taking a risk on the future isn’t an easy thing to do, is it?”

“No.” She laughed, the sound kind of croaky. “But if you did it, so can I. Love you.”

“You, too. Always.”

When Patrick hung up, Carolina sat motionless, staring out the large window at the mountains. They were stunningly crisp against the bright sky. It was easy to imagine standing at a summit—the air thin and hard to breathe—exhilarated from the climb, yet scared to death. Behind her was the long struggle up, and in front of her, a dizzying descent into the unknown.

“I
DON’T SEE
why Regina has to come to dinner tonight,” Jake said the following evening, forcing his face to remain blank as Carolina suppressed a sigh. He glanced away from her and toward the windows, which were growing dark.

“Tonight, tomorrow night . . . what difference does it make?” she asked in a calm voice.

“Tomorrow is Thursday,” he answered almost accusingly, then realized the tone he’d taken. “I mean . . . it’s our last night.”

Yeah, that had sounded even more pathetic. Damn. He glanced away from her and stared down at the cookbook on the counter.

“Yes.” She shut the oven door and came to stand beside him. “Tomorrow is our last night. There’s nothing we can do to change that, unless you decide to
talk
to me.”

Jake winced. Well, he’d walked right into that one, hadn’t he? Though some part of him had done it on purpose, hadn’t it? If for no other reason than to clear the air—and save what precious little time they had left.

“Jake?”

“I’ve
been
talking to you. All day yesterday we talked. All day today too.”

“You’ve been humoring me—there’s a difference.”

Jake flipped the cookbook closed. “No, I’ve told you—plainly, I might add—that I’m not quitting the Secret Service to chase the pipe dream of coaching baseball. It would be throwing away everything I’ve worked for. You know how many agents my age have the privilege of protecting the First Family?”

She shrugged.

“Me. I’m the youngest agent on the detail. Why would I give that up?”

“Oh come on, Jake! I know it’s an honor, but how much do bragging rights really matter when you hate the job?”

“Only a fool would hate it,” he muttered.

“Is this about your father?” she asked suddenly.

He stiffened, looking at her. “Why would you say that?”

“Because I think you don’t want to let him down. You feel guilty. I can’t think of any other reason why you would choose to hold yourself back from pursuing happiness.” Her expression was cautious, but her voice was determined.

“Guilty? Of course I feel guilty. My dad and I never really got along, but I respected him. I still do. He sacrificed his own happiness without complaint. Why shouldn’t I do the same thing?”

“Because of what you just said,” she whispered. “Why repeat his life? Why?”

Jake began to pace the tile floor. “Let’s see—he had a successful thirty-year career. He retired with honors. He served his country well. He . . .”

“He walked out on you and your mom,” Carolina supplied.

Jake shot her a warning glance. “I don’t need to be reminded of that.”

He remembered all too well the loneliness of birthdays, Christmases, entire summers without a father. That loneliness had been a constant for as long as he could remember, until one day, when Jake had been twelve, his mom had laid down an ultimatum—either stay and be a dad or leave. His father had walked away for good. Jake had learned to cope—learned to be a man on his own. And he damned well wasn’t going to repeat his father’s mistakes.

“Look, Carolina. I’m not going to turn into my dad. It’s true I chose to follow in his footsteps, but I chose the
best
part of his life to emulate. For me, being a Secret Service agent means doing it alone. I’m not going to let my career affect a family.”

“But if your career doesn’t give you any joy, then what’s the point? Don’t tell me you enjoy self-imposed suffering just so you can feel . . . patriotic?”

Her voice was full of disbelief—as it had been all day yesterday, and all day today. He was getting tired of it. Why couldn’t she just respect the fact that he knew his own mind?

He folded his arms and gave her a frosty smile. “So you’re saying I should choose to serve myself instead of my country?”

“That’s not what I meant.” With a sigh, she picked up a colander of potatoes and deposited them into a pot of boiling water. “I meant that there’s nothing wrong with having balance in your life. Let me rephrase—does putting one hundred percent of yourself into serving your country make you happy?”

He didn’t answer.

“I’m sure some people would answer yes,” she continued. “But there’s nothing wrong with saying no. It doesn’t make you a bad person. Didn’t you tell me once that I shouldn’t teach school because my unhappiness would eventually affect the students?” She waved a potholder at him. “Well, the same goes for you. Eventually, you’ll . . .” She trailed off, shaking her head.

“I’ll make a mistake? Get someone killed? Get you killed?”

“No! You’re twisting everything I say so that you don’t have to give me a straight answer.” She glared at him. “Which is actually disrespectful, if you think about it.”

“Well, excuse me, Miss Fulton. No disrespect intended.”

He glared back at her for a moment and then went into the living room to stare at the fire.

“What about you?” he found himself asking. “You’re pushing me to give up my career, but I haven’t seen you leave school yet. I never said I intended to quit my job, but you’ve been moaning about quitting school for the better part of a week. I’m not the one who can’t make a decision. I’m the one who sticks
by
my decisions. I’m not a coward, Carolina.”

A large clatter from the kitchen made him wince and a moment later, she stomped into the living room and jerked his arm around. “I never called you a coward,” she said fiercely.

“You might as well have.” He shrugged off her hand.

“Oh, come off it. Every time I talk to you about anything more serious than the weather, you get pricklier than a porcupine.”

“So now I’m a . . . forest rodent?”

Carolina let her head fall back in a silent scream. When she finished, she turned a resolute gaze on him. “You know what?”

“What?”

“I’m going to prove a point. Watch this.”

Jake watched as she whirled around and stomped over to the coffee table to grab her phone. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not calling my daddy on you, Jake.”

He folded his arms. “That thought didn’t even cross my mind.”

And it hadn’t. Carolina was a force to be reckoned with, but she wasn’t petty and vindictive. Didn’t she realize that he didn’t see her that way? Frowning, he walked over to her. “Carolina . . .”

“Shh. It’s ringing.” She took a shuddering breath. “Oh, shit. It’s ringing.”

Jake stepped back and watched as she held the phone to her ear with shaking fingers. After a moment, her lips curved into her sunny, almost believable First Daughter smile.

“Hello, Dr. Richards. It’s Carolina Fulton.” She paused. “No, sir. I . . . can’t complete that section of my thesis, because I’m not going to complete my student teaching.” A pained look began to crumple the smile on her face, but she lifted her chin and began to bob her head. “That’s right. I’m sorry to tell you this, but I’ve given it a lot of thought and I’m sure it won’t come as a complete shock to you that I’ve decided not to pursue a career in education.”

Her chin began to tremble, but damned if her smile didn’t stay the same. She didn’t even fidget as she listened to the voice at the other end of the phone. As Jake stood there, perfectly still, watching her, a pang of sympathy rushed through his heart.

So many times he’d thought about his own boss’s reaction should he quit. Just the idea of the disappointment he’d cause had made him push all thoughts like that away. And now, here was Carolina—living it.

He raised his hand briefly, but returned it to his side when she glanced at him and turned her back. “Yes, Dr. Richards. In hindsight, it would have been wiser to rethink my career plans during my first semester instead of my last. But I’m not your typical student, am I?”

She listened for another moment and then walked into the kitchen. “Yes. I’m sorry, too. I’ll write a formal letter . . . and notify the rest of the department. Okay. Um, also, someone from the White House communications office will be contacting you to sort out the best way to make this public. Thank you in advance for being patient and I . . . well, thank you for everything.”

Slowly, Carolina lowered the phone and placed it on the counter. She stared down at it, and then straightened it. A second later, she was back at the sink, scrubbing potatoes again.

Jake let out a long-held breath. “Congratulations, Carolina.”

She didn’t answer.

The sound of crunching snow outside didn’t even make her turn her head, but Jake crossed to the door quickly, alert, and listening. “Who’s there?” he called.

“It’s me, handsome,” Regina called back.

Jake glanced at Carolina again. She shut off the water, grabbed a dish towel and retreated toward the hallway. He made a move to follow her, but leaving an aggressive old lady alone on a porch in the freezing cold? Not advisable. He opened the door.

“Regina. Nice to see you.”

She looked him up and down. “Likewise. And then some. You going to let me in or what?”

Jake stepped back. “Carolina is . . . she’s in the bathroom, I think.”

“Uh oh. What’s wrong?” Regina stomped her boots on the rug in front of the door and threw her gloves on the counter.

“Nothing.” He winked at her. She wasn’t buying it.

With a quick glance toward the hallway, Jake leaned in close to the older woman. “She just quit school. And I mean—just. About a minute before you knocked on the door.”

“You didn’t give me a chance to knock, Mr. Secret Service, but that’s irrelevant.”

Jake nodded and took her coat. “You want to go talk to her?”

“No. She’ll talk when she’s ready. What are we having for dinner?”

He took the scarf she handed to him and draped it over the back of the sofa. “Ham. It’s in the oven, the potatoes are boiling and most everything else is prepped. Of course I still need to chop some onion. Carolina likes onion mixed into her mashed potatoes.” He paused when he realized he was rambling. “You want a drink?”

He wanted to have one, but there was no way he would. He might have broken almost every other rule, but drinking on the job wasn’t going to be one of them.

“I don’t drink,” she announced, and then flopped into the President’s recliner and pulled up on the footrest. “Ahh. What I wouldn’t give for a chair like this.”

Jake stared at her for a moment and then at the stove, where a large pot of water hissed and bubbled. “I need to finish some things here.”

“You need to do a lot more than that, but it’s not my job to make you.” Regina smiled at him.

Jake pointed at her with a paring knife. “Remember you said that.” When she cackled in response, he gave her a quick smile and then chopped in silence for a few minutes. When he finished, he checked the oven and stood over the pot again, staring at the swirling steam He picked up a spatula and poked at the potatoes.

Carolina walked slowly into the living room and Jake paused. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She glanced at him and then turned to Regina. “Hi. I quit school.”

Regina flipped open a magazine. “I know.”

Jake pulled plates from a cabinet. “She was really brave.”

Neither woman commented nor looked at him, and he turned his attention back to the counter. So this is what it had come to—the true purpose of a Secret Service agent was apparently to shut up and prep vegetables. Great. But really, he’d stepped into this pile of shit with both feet and both eyes wide open. What an idiot.