“He did tell me his first name and showed me his medal, but he’s been mostly tight-lipped other than that.”
I left out the part at the market when Jude talked about how rough it was taking care of his father because he didn’t make it easy sometimes.
“Did he tell you why his name is Jude?”
“He said he was named for Saint Jude after I asked if it came from the Beatles song.”
He nodded and leaned back in his chair, slowly crossing his ankles.
“For a very long time, we couldn’t have kids. And we figured that was life.” He shrugged. “Until one day, after we’d lost all hope, my wife found out she was expecting. We didn’t know what to name him until after he was born. He was this perfect little guy, a miracle we’d never thought possible.”
George’s voice was almost a whisper at the end, the love for his son so evident in his gaze, it scratched at the back of my throat.
“So you named him after the patron saint of the impossible.”
“That’s right.” He pointed at me and smiled. “Very good.”
“Catholic school.” I shrugged. “That’s a very sweet story.”
“Then he grew older and became impossible in different ways. And especially now, but I can’t totally blame him as he’s had a rough few years.”
George scrubbed his hand down his face but didn’t offer up any more details.
“He always thought Jude was an old-fashioned name and made his friends call him Davis. Only we were allowed to call him Jude. And now you. See, I told you.” He pointed a finger at me. “You got to him.”
“I’ve only seen him a few times.” I shook my head. “I doubt Igotto him.”
“Sometimes it only takes once. I knew about my wife in the first ten minutes after I met her.”
“He asked for my license and registration in the first ten minutes after he met me.” I leaned forward and patted his hand. “Not exactly the same.”
George cracked up as an SUV pulled up in front of the house. My heart skipped a beat when I recognized Jude’s truck, and I watched him step out of the driver’s seat, so damn hot in that uniform, and head toward the front steps.
He slung a backpack over his shoulder and stilled when he noticed Keely’s carriage by the steps.
“I’m entertaining a guest. She’s enjoying the night air and one of those shitty seltzers with me. Want to join us?”
“I took Keely for a walk, and your dad called me over for a chat and a drink,” I explained and jiggled my now-empty can. “They aren’t so terrible. Thanks for the drink, George.” I pushed off the chair. “Hi, Jude. I’ll take Keely home so her parents can put her to bed.”
“Come back anytime, honey. My son will walk you back.”
“That’s not necessary. I’m sure Jude just wants to relax after a long day.”
“Jude has good manners because that’s how I raised him. Isn’t that right, son?”
I laughed when Jude clenched his eyes shut and nodded.
“I would have offered, Dad. Give me a chance once in a while.”
“My mistake. Have a wonderful night, Claudia.”
His eyes darted from me to his son, and I had to laugh at his sly smile.
“I will. Thanks again.” I lifted the brake on the carriage and started back toward the house, not looking to see if Jude was following me since the heat from his presence already confirmed it.
“So, did my father complain to you about me the whole time?”
“No, not the whole time.” I turned my head and let myself look at him. His mouth curved up in not quite a smile, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his gloriously fit uniform pants as he stepped beside me. “I’m sorry he put you on the spot like that. I really can walk back alone. It’s Kelly Lakes, so—”
