“About that.” She giggled as she always did when she was nervous. “I’ve changed my mind. I went out with a few guys here at the fort since we broke up and I realized what I had with you. The guys here are jerks. The letter was a mistake. Can we just forget that I wrote it? At the time, I thought I’d be on leave with someone else, but now that’s over. I’m coming to see you as soon as I can book a flight.”

When he didn’t say a word, she added, “Or, if you can get away from that little school, I’ll meet you anywhere on the West Coast. You are on spring break this week, aren’t you?”

When he still didn’t answer, her voice hardened. “Oh c’mon, Ketch. We’ve been together for years. You know how I get restless now and then. What’s one hiccup? You know me. You probably knew I’d change my mind. Right?”

Ketch disconnected the call. He did know her. Crystal wasn’t going to give him a chance to say a word until she’d presented her case. If she’d been in front of him, she would already be teasing him with her body, making him forget about what they were arguing about.

But she didn’t know him. He’d stopped listening.

He sat waiting. She called back four times. He sat watching the day begin, loving the dawn spreading over a rain-soaked valley. The newborn sunlight sparkled like diamonds over spring’s bright colors.

Finally, the phone was silent. He dressed, erased four messages, and dialed Tuesday.

When she picked up, he said, “You awake, kid?”

“No . . .”

“You hungry? I know a café in Honey Creek that makes the best buttermilk pancakes in the world.”

“I’ll be ready by the time you get here,” she said with a squeal.

Ketch laughed. He could almost see Tuesday running around trying to find her clothes, her shoes, her funny little band that held her hair up. As he pulled on jeans and a pullover, he noticed Crystal’s letter on the dresser. With one toss it landed in the trash.

* * *

They talked as he drove toward Honey Creek, making plans for the day. She said she’d go with him to the library to meet with the college librarian. Dr. Monroe wanted Ketch to dig up as much research as possible on the chemistry of mating, and Miss Remington wanted to help, even though she had a broken leg.

He winked at Tuesday. “For research purposes, what attracts you to me, kid?” Right now, with her bare feet on the dash, she looked about sixteen.

“Who says I’m attracted to you, Ketch? You were just a stray dog too drunk to walk. What else could I do with you except bring you home?”

“I think it was me who took you home.”