“He didn’t say, and back then, I didn’t know enough to ask many questions. I wasn’t old enough to appreciate the answers anyway, and because of how my father was about it, I didn’t want to think about it.”
Kane sat back and nodded. “There’s a lot to discover. I like mysteries. I’m not going home tonight until I catch up to you,” he declared.
“I want to emphasize that I don’t want my father to know about this.”
“I wonder what’s making him so uptight about it. Did you ever come right out and ask him?”
“No. And we’re not going to ask,” I said firmly.
He smiled. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t want to get him even slightly mad at me.” I was about to smile, thinking he meant that would risk his being with me, but then he went for another forkful of meat loaf and added, “I might not get any more of his home cooking.”
I laughed. Maybe my father was right. Maybe I would win Kane through his cooking.
Kane skipped dessert so he could get back up to my room. He offered to clear the table and help in the kitchen, but I told him just to go back to the diary. He’d only rush and break something. He didn’t need to be told twice.
While I was finishing up, my father came home. “Where’s Kane?” he asked immediately when he entered the kitchen. “I see his car’s still here.”
“Oh, he’s up in my room doing homework.”
“Enjoy the dinner?”
“You have a devoted fan.”
“Didn’t offer to help with the dishes?”
“He offered,” I said. “Let’s just say he’s not used to working in a kitchen, and like you always say, when someone who doesn’t know what he’s doing assists you, it makes for twice the work.”
“Not surprised he’s unaccustomed to KP duty, but I’m surprised he left you alone. He could h
ave at least watched. He’s that into his homework?”
“He had more than I did tonight. We don’t have the same classes. How’s everything at the building site?” Get him talking about the project quickly, I told myself. I hated coming up with all these white lies. I was with Huckleberry Finn. Why tell the truth and hurt someone?
“Usual bureaucratic delays with inspectors, but we’re muddling through.”
I wiped my hands. “Everything’s hot and ready for you. Go sit, and I’ll bring it in.”
“I’m not ready yet. I want to shower and change first, baby. You better get back to that homework,” he added with a bit of an impish smile.
I threw the dish towel at him and hurried up the stairs.
“Break out your textbooks,” I warned Kane. “My father’s here.”
He nodded and slipped the diary under my pillow. By the time my father knocked on the door, Kane was doing his math.
“Smells like a library in here,” my father joked when he saw us both into our textbooks.
“Hi, Mr. Masterwood. Fantastic meat loaf.”
“Thanks. Glad you enjoyed it. I’ll get changed so I can eat it myself and see if you’re giving me a false compliment,” my father said, and then he winked and left us.
Kane closed his textbook. “Gotta confession,” he said.
“What?”
“I caught up to you.”
“What? How could you?”