Pete strolled in a few minutes later with a smorgasbord that included more yogurt, granola with stuff in it I couldn’t identify, an assortment of fruit, and some very strong-smelling coffee. Yum. I muscled myself into upright position, wincing again as my sore neck battled it out with the back of my head for precedence in my mind. But they both lost out to the dapper cadet, spreading out the breakfast fare on a plastic serving dish with some smiley bananas painted on it by my eight-year-old self.
“The best I could do on short notice,” he said.
“Impressive.”
He shrug-smiled. “You’re pretty easy to cook for.”
“Still. Just knowing your way around the kitchen is a pretty spectacular feat for someone of the male persuasion in my household. And no burnt toast smell to go with the bacon and eggs. I gotta say, Cadet Davenport . . . you got mad skills, yo.” I forked a piece of strawberry in my mouth.
“Kitchen detail,” he explained with a good-natured grimace.
I laughed, wanting to know the back-story there, but not wanting to pry open that can of worms in case it spoiled breakfast. “This is great, Pete. Really. I’m so hungry I could eat a horse.” I dug into the granola now using the big spoon.
“So that’s why I didn’t see any out there.”
I choked on my bite, laughing. “That is so wrong. Actually . . . we used to have a little Paint horse named Pinto that I used to ride bareback all around the ranch.”
“Bareback huh?”
Despite the wicked grin that put a gleam in his eye and hot spots on my cheeks, I managed to say, “Most of the time, I just jumped right on him in the pasture and galloped away.”
“I would’ve loved to have seen that—I bet you looked like a wild little Indian.”
My smile turned wistful. “That’s what Mama used to say. She called us her wild little Indians.” It took a while for me to swallow. “We’re actually part Cherokee. Mama was half.”
“It’s an interesting and beautiful mix,” Pete remarked, taking a thoughtful sip of his coffee.
“Yeah, she was really beautiful, but like mostly on the inside, if you can believe it. She was the best person I’ve ever known—so nice to everyone. She volunteered at the church when she could, which wasn’t very often cause she was the one who ran the ranch and tended the vegetable garden. And everything seemed to thrive under her care. . . . I’m not doin’ so hot at it,” I confessed with a rueful headshake.
The sudden slant of Pete’s eyebrow indicated a difference of opinion, but he remained quiet so I went on, my mouth seeming to want to gush out the stored words. “And she was super-smart, too. She did all the bankin’ and tax stuff and she even home-schooled us kids for a good part of our education. She just seemed to know so much about everything—random stuff like what the Latin sayin’s on the back of a dollar bill mean and how to tie, like, twenty different kinds of knots.”
I stopped there, getting the feeling I was revealing too much. The awkward silence I filled with a sip of coffee. It was just the way I liked it— extra strong with cream and a pinch of sugar. I looked up at him.
Had I mentioned that?
Pete’s body seemed to have tensed during my little spiel, but his face was impassive as always. “She sounds like an amazing woman,” he finally said.
“She was.” I took another contemplative sip of my coffee and watched him do the same.
“What happened to Pinto? Did you outgrow him?”
I shook my head. “Daddy sold him right after Mama died.” I quoted my father: “‘Horses eat money.’”
“I guess there goes my fantasy of riding off into the sunset with you.”
I chortled at that one. “I can’t picture you on a horse, city-slicker.”
“Oh, really?” Pete challenged indignantly. “It just so happens I have a little horse experience . . . looks like you didn’t read all the brochure.” “Stopped at the fine print.”
He ignored that to finish: “The Academy keeps a well-stocked stable. And even has been known to throw polo matches on occasion for expedition games and fundraisers.”
“You play polo?” I snorted a laugh. “Why am I not surprised? . . . You sure have crammed a whole lot of livin’ into seventeen years, Cadet Davenport.”
“What can I say?—it’s the IEA way. And I didn’t say I played well. I never made the team,” he admitted.
I dropped my jaw. “I’m shocked. Could it be I’ve finally found the one thing you’re not good at?”
“Looks who’s talking.”
“Hardly,” I said, spooning in more yogurt.
Pete shook his head disapprovingly but remained silent, watching me chow down while sipping his coffee.
“I feel guilty eatin’ in front of you. Why don’t you go eat with the boys? I’ll be fine.” I was actually feeling self-conscious with him staring at me but didn’t want to admit it.
“Already ate—toast and farm fresh eggs.” He broke into another dazzler. “Maybe I’m missing my calling . . . farm life doesn’t seem half bad.”
“Easy for you to say when you get to escape tomorrow. For good,” I said, not really thinking about my words until they popped out of my mouth. Then it hit me—this was probably true. I had trouble swallowing again.
“What makes you think I’m leaving tomorrow?”
Did his voice just go up an octave? I searched Pete’s face for answers, saw the twinkle leave his eyes. “Dunno,” I shrugged “just a feelin’ I have, I guess. Anyhow, it’s gonna be sooner rather than later, isn’t it?” I tossed my spoon aside and looked up at him with sad-sack eyes.
Pete regarded me a long moment while I watched the dust motes swirl in the halo of light above his head. “Honestly,” he said, “I don’t know if there’s much more I can do here with Andrew. We have all the information we need to make a decision. All that’s left is the results of the physical coming up on Monday.”
“Aren’t you supposed to not be talkin’ about it with me?”
He lifted a shoulder. “I’m not sure it makes much difference now— either he’ll pass the physical or he won’t. We’ll see. If he does . . . then he’ll most likely enter into the admissions process, which basically boils down to your father signing the paperwork.”
“That ain’t gonna happen,” I stated flatly.
Pete looked aggravated, no longer lounging against the wall haphazardly. “It’s the right place for him, Kate.”
“Is not.” I would keep saying it till the cows came home.
“It’s a great campus—all the bells and whistles. You did hear about the stable, right?” He didn’t give me a chance to respond. “Well, I better get off to chores now . . . hi-ho, hi-ho and all that.” He shrugged off the wall with his half-full cup of coffee to come over and gather the dishes. It seemed like he was in a rush to leave all of a sudden.
Good mood gone.
“Okay,” I said, smiling a little too brightly, afraid I’d spooked him off. “Have fun. And thanks—I haven’t been treated to breakfast in bed in ages.”