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“I see.”
Silence hovered a moment. “Thinking about you and Daddy like that is weird, kind of like thinking about coffins being waterproof.”
Caitlin laughed, a welcome spurt of humor. “Talking to you about me and your father like that is weird, too.”
A small grin curved Eleanor’s lips. “Laura Helen says one’s parents’ sex life is like thinking about Bigfoot. You’re kind of sure it exists, but you don’t want to think about it too deeply because the idea is odd and a little scary.”
“Laura Helen is brilliant.”
“She has four siblings, Mama. I only have Eva, so I can at least pretend you’re not that active.”
Caitlin bit her lip against another laugh.
Eleanor gave her a pained look. “Don’t say anything. I still remember that time when I was eight and there was a morning after pill box on the kitchen island. I asked you what a contraceptive was. Do you know how traumatized I was in freshman health class when what that meant sank in?”
“Perhaps not as traumatized as you would have been by having two siblings born a year apart.”
“Thank you for that.” Eleanor shook her head. “Imagine Eva as a middle child, having to share Daddy’s attention. Mama, Grandma had six babies, and five of them were so close together. Can you imagine?”
She smoothed Eleanor’s hair. “I cannot.”
“No wonder Daddy ran away when she got pregnant with Aunt Tori.” Eleanor jackknifed to a seated position, slapping both palms against the mattress as she spun to face Caitlin. “Mama, she has this pillow on a chair in her room. It has ‘Not tonight, dear’ embroidered on one side and ‘Tonight’s the night’ on the other. She said it was a wedding gift. I would die if you and Daddy had one.”
Caitlin was well-acquainted with that pillow and Tick’s visceral hatred for it. “I don’t believe you have to worry your father and I will ever have such a pillow.”
Eleanor flopped into the pillows with a sigh. “Thank you for being discreet.”
With an affectionate smile, Caitlin tweaked her nose. “You’re welcome.”
“May I sleep here tonight?”
“Yes.” She twisted to turn off the lamp. With Eleanor’s quiet breathing next to her, the odd sounds seemed farther away, not as anxiety-inducing.
“I’m worried about Daddy.” Eleanor’s quiet admission hung in the dark, setting off a pang in Caitlin’s chest. “He doesn’t act like himself.”
“This is a very deep loss for him.” Saying the words aloud reassured her as well. “And he’s concerned about Papa Gene.”
“He’ll be all right, won’t he, Mama?” Uncertainty trembled in Eleanor’s voice, and Caitlin reached for her hand, twining their fingers.
“Of course he will.” She needed to say that aloud as well, needed to make herself believe the disconnect Eleanor sensed was only temporary. “All he needs is time.”
Chapter Three
Swim Good
Tick’s chest heaved, heart thudding against his ribs. Release still gripped his gut, muscles jumping in his thighs. He eased himself free of Caitlin’s body, his other hand on her hip. “I’m sorry.”
“Why?” Her voice soft and breathless, she flipped her tousled hair out of her face to look at him over her shoulder. “It’s not the first time we’ve had sex for the purpose of stress release. I doubt it will be the last.”
The thing was, the whole interlude was ratcheting his stress level higher by the second. Hell, he’d done little more than unzip his pants. Brows twisted on a wince, he brushed a fingertip over the small red marks marring the tender curve of her ass — barely-there scratches from his open zipper. “I didn’t mean to be that rough.”
“Under the right circumstances, rough is perfectly acceptable.”
His cheekbones burned. A scrap of torn black silk rested next to his shoe — shit, he’d torn them off? She bore a tiny welt on her thigh from that, too. His stomach flipped. He planted a palm on the vanity, trying to pull himself together while she cleaned up and tugged her dress into place.
A resigned sigh shook her body. “Calvert, stop standing there beating yourself up.”
On a deep breath, he marshaled his thoughts into some semblance of order. He’d been buzzing with adrenaline, pulsing with an overload of emotion since gripping the rail on Louise’s casket, then hearing the ceremonial thud of dirt on the polished surface, while Caitlin had been cool and serene as always.
