Page 44 of Semper Fi

Jim finally rushed in. He peered at Sophie anxiously and caressed her damp cheek. “Are you all right, baby?”

She nodded, sniffling but clearly trying to put on a brave face. “I’m okay, Daddy.”

The older nurse on the other side of the bed frowned at Cal. “I thought you were her father?”

“I’m her uncle.”

“Oh.” The nurse nodded. “All right. I’ll be back with the prescription and then you can take her home.”

“Thank you,” Jim said.

The woman smiled. “Maybe I’ll come back with a lollipop too. Would you like that, Sophie?”

Nodding, Sophie managed a smile of her own .

Cal recognized the tense set of Jim’s shoulders. “It was dislocated, but the doc says she’ll be just fine. No need to worry.”

“You were supposed to be watching her.” Jim faced him, clearly struggling to keep his tone in check. “How did this happen?”

“I’m not sure.” Cal’s ears were hot.

“Why weren’t you watching?”

“The workmen made a mistake on the cider house. I was only gone for a minute.” The excuse was pitiful to his own ears. “I’m sorry, Jim.”

“Daddy, stop. It was my fault.”

Jim and Cal turned their attention back to Sophie. Jim brushed at her cheeks where fresh tears spilled. “Of course it wasn’t.”

She nodded. “It was! He told me to hang on, but when he wasn’t looking I let go. I made it all the way around three times, and then I wanted Trixie to go faster. She did, and I fell. Please don’t blame Uncle Cal.”

“It’s okay, Sophie. I should have been watching.” Cal hoped his smile was reassuring. “It’s not your fault.”

“Yes, it is! And if Daddy’s mean to you, you’re going to go away again!” To Jim, she pleaded, “I don’t want him to leave. Why can’t he come back and live with us?”

Jim opened his mouth and closed it, and Cal jumped in. “Hey, I’ve been back every week to visit. I’ll be back next week, too, I promise.”

“Why can’t you just stay? Why do you like the city more than us?”

Cal walked around the bed and pulled a chair up to the other side.

“I don’t like the city more than you, but there are things I need to do there.

Believe me, whenever I’m in Manhattan I’m counting the hours until I can come back to Clover Grove and see all of you.

” It was the truth, but he avoided Jim’s gaze.

“Really?” She swiped her sleeve across her nose.

“Really.” Cal leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Once they had her settled into Jim’s pickup, happily sucking her lollipop, Jim closed the door and spoke quietly.

“I’m sorry. I overreacted, and I was wrong. ”

“No, I got distracted. I shouldn’t have.”

Jim sighed. “She’s growing up, and we can’t watch her every second. I know she’s going to fall off more than one horse in her life.” He frowned. “I hope not literally.”

Cal couldn’t help but smile. We. “It’s still awful seeing her hurt. I’ve never felt so powerless. Not since what happened on Okinawa.”

Jim winced, his eyes clouding over. Before he could say anything, Sophie’s muffled voice came from inside the truck. “What happened on Okinawa?”

They answered in unison, “Nothing,” and hurried out of earshot toward where Cal had parked the Caddy.

“I’d better get her home,” Jim said. “Are you still driving back to the city?”

“I suppose so. Unless you want me to stay tonight.” Say yes.

Jim shook his head. “We’re fine. I don’t want to keep you.”

“I was thinking I could come back in a few days and we’ll put the new press to the test.”

“Sure.” Jim smiled. “Sounds good.”

They stared at each other for too long, and finally Cal climbed into his car. “See you.”

Jim stood there for a few moments, before disappearing back to the truck.

Cal followed Jim out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

At the juncture, Jim turned left back toward Tivoli, and Sophie waved in the back window with her good hand.

Cal made his right turn and watched them getting smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror, until the road curved and he was alone.

***

“See, so with this part, the apples are scratted. That means ground down.”

Jim’s lips quirked. “Yes, I know what it means. You’ve certainly gotten up to speed on cider making, haven’t you?”

“Of course I have.” Cal grinned. “I don’t do anything halfway.” He walked around the machine, swiping his arm across his forehead. Indian summer was in full swing, and they both wore only white T-shirts and jeans although it was October. “And here’s where we squeeze the juice out.”

“It’s huge. Your cousin did an incredible job.”

“Only the best for Clover Grove. I made sure of it.” And paid dearly for it, but Cal didn’t mention that since Jim hadn’t. “Come on, let’s test out a batch.”

The press whirred to life, and Cal pulled the door to the cider house shut, even though there was nobody to disturb since Sophie was at school and Mrs. O’Brien had taken Adam to the market.

He wanted Jim to have the whole experience and flicked on the overhead light.

It was only a single bulb, but it shone brightly enough that workers could safely operate the press even at night.

They watched in easy silence as the machine did its work. Cal asked, “When are you going to start harvesting the rest of the apples?”

“Next week. There are some that weren’t damaged. Not enough, but at least we’re ready with the press now. Even if they’re bruised, they’ll work fine here.”

Cal watched the first juice squeeze out with satisfaction. “I think we should toast. Make it official now that the paperwork is done.”

“All right. To the new and improved Clover Grove.” Jim smiled widely. “You get the glasses, and I’ll collect the juice.”

Cal was about to open the door when Jim sputtered and swore.

Spinning around, Cal found Jim with one of the press receptacles in his hand and juice splashed all over him.

Cal couldn’t hold it in, and his laugh echoed over the hum of the press.

Jim glared, but couldn’t stop from smiling, and soon they were both laughing so hard Cal had to hold onto the wall.

“You have to hit the release button instead of just yanking on it.”

Juice dripped off the end of Jim’s nose. “You don’t say? ”

Giggling helplessly and in a most undignified manner, Cal peeled off his T-shirt over his head. “Here. Let me help.” He blotted at Jim’s face with the cotton. “How’s it taste?”

“Not bad. Not bad at all.” Jim grinned, still laughing. “You sure we should make hard cider out of it?”

“Booze is where the money is, my friend. Of that, I’m sure.” Jim’s hands were dripping, and without thinking, Cal lifted one to his mouth. “Let me taste.” He sucked Jim’s finger between his lips, his tongue swirling around it to gather the sticky, tangy juice.

As he came back to his senses, Cal froze.

Jim was staring at Cal’s mouth. Then he slowly eased out his finger, and Cal waited to be pushed away.

Instead, Jim pressed his next finger to Cal’s mouth, and Cal bit back a groan as he took it between his lips.

He licked and sucked Jim’s skin clean finger by finger, both of them breathing shallowly. Jim’s eyes were riveted to Cal’s mouth.

When Cal released Jim’s hand, their gazes locked, and they clutched at each other, hands scrabbling and mouths open. They stumbled to the wooden floor, the press still humming. Jim tore off his T-shirt, revealing his lean muscles and the fair hair sprinkled across his chest.

Cal rolled on top of him. Jim’s skin was damp from the juice, and Cal licked, circling his tongue around one nipple and then the other as Jim moaned, his fingers digging into Cal’s bare back.

Shifting down, Cal lapped at Jim’s bellybutton, the tang of apple and Jim’s sweat sweet on his tongue. He was afraid to talk and break the spell but couldn’t stop the words from flowing out. “Missed you. Missed this. Jesus, you taste so good. I want you so much.”

Jim’s fingers tangled in Cal’s hair, and he panted, lifting his hips in invitation. “Don’t stop.”

Cal made quick work of Jim’s belt and unzipped his fly. He mouthed at Jim’s hardening dick through his shorts, inhaling the musky scent deeply. His own cock was aching in his jeans, and he rutted against the floorboards.

He gripped the waistband of Jim’s drawers, and —

Daylight flooded the cider house as the door slid open. Cal sprang from Jim, scrambling to his feet as he blinked at the doorway, the adrenaline of desire crystallizing into icy terror. He made out Mrs. O’Brien’s silhouette as she backed away and was gone.