Madeline’s eyelids grew heavier.
“That’s her now-that-awesome-Eli-is-here-I-can-sleep face,” he said.
“That’s also her you-two-are-so-inept-that-you’ve-tired-me-out face.”
Madeline’s lids drifted closed. The noise of her drawing on her pacifier continued.
“That’s her I’m-dreaming-of-returning-to-the-womb face,” Penelope said.
“It’s also her I’m-imagining-my-future-career-as-a-pilot face.”
“It’s also her I-adore-my-aunt-Penelope-and-will-one-day-apologize-to-her-for-my-tantrum-by-buying-her-peppermint-gelato face.”
“I’ll buy you peppermint gelato,” he said.
She vanished into the kitchen.
He stayed in the laundry room with Madeline for several more minutes. Then, unwilling to risk removing the baby from the seat, carried the entire thing to the dining room.
“She looks like a really tired Cleopatra on a litter,” Penelope remarked.
He saw that Penelope had set the table, filled their plates with food and their glasses with tea. He placed the baby seat on the floor near their chairs as carefully as if it contained plutonium.
Madeline continued sleeping.
He took his seat. Penelope said a prayer, then they started in on the meal.
Distantly, he could tell that it tasted good. It was hard to concentrate on flavors when Penelope Quinn was seated next to him.
“I’d like to know what it was like for you, over in Syria,” she said. “Would you be willing to talk with me about it?”
“Sure.”
She asked curious questions, and he answered her as thoroughly as security restrictions allowed.
“Can you give me a sense of what a normal work week in Syria was like?” She took a bite of potatoes.
“We’re constantly going through a rolling process. We’re given a mission objective. We plan. We perform the mission. Debrief. More intelligence is gathered. We’re given another mission—”
Madeline made a sound and they both froze.
The pacifier popped onto her blanket. Eli put his reflexes to work by leaning down to retrieve and reinsert.
Success. The baby’s head slumped to the side in sleep.
“That’s her I-thought-it-would-be-fun-to-scare-you-because-I-don’t-want-you-to-get-too-comfortable face,” Penelope said softly.
“That’s her you-guys-fell-for-it face.” He grinned at Penelope over their running joke.
She smiled back at him for a split second, then looked away. The amusement in her face disappeared.
He cursed inwardly and set down his fork. He hated that he’d hurt her before he’d left for Syria.
She rose. “More butter for your roll?”
“No, thanks.”
He rose, too. After straightening his gray shirt, he thrust his hands into the pockets of his faded jeans. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was being deployed.”
