near.
Ham fetched a box that he’d left on the table in the foyer. Sitting beside her, he opened it and pulled out the framed photograph on top.
“This stayed on your dad’s desk, in the lefthand corner. It was as much a part of his office as his chair and bookshelf.”
Liv recognized the five-by-seven photo as one Ham had taken of her years ago. It was only months after her mother had passed away. She’d been baking, determined to make her father a “welcome home” meal that he’d never forget. Long curls, damp with sweat, hung in her face, and her clothes were limp and disheveled.
“That night, Daddy told me I was as good a cook as my mother.” She smiled, remembering one of the good times. “He didn’t even complain that the meatloaf was dry or the rolls a little burned.”
“He bragged to me that you were one hell of a fine cook.”
Laughing, Liv said, “I bet that’s exactly how he put it, too.”
Ham’s arm slid around her shoulders, comfortable and familiar. “Word for word.”
Liv challenged him with a teasing look. “Is that why you had it framed for him?”
Caught off guard, Ham stalled, and finally rolled one shoulder with a guilty grin. “He liked the photo. Whenever anyone came to his office, they’d look at that picture and ask about it. Weston would hold it with pride and tell everyone that you were his daughter.”
Desperately, Liv clutched at this small proof of affection. “Did he talk about me much?”
“Truthfully? He wanted me to court you.”
A surprised laugh bubbled out. “ Court me?”
“He considered me worthy of his one and only daughter.” Ham pulled out another photo. “This one sat on his bookshelf. He’d always point out what a handsome couple we made, and believe me, your dad didn’t have an ounce of subtlety.”
Skeptical, Liv accepted the smaller, three-by-five shot of her with Hamilton at a military function. She smiled at the camera, but Hamilton stood in profile, his absorbed gaze on Liv’s face. Seeing the picture, and his expression, actually made her blush. “I don’t recognize this one.”
“I have no idea who took it. But it’s been in your dad’s office for years.”
“What did you tell him when he…well, talked about us?”
Stretching out his long legs, Hamilton settled back in the couch and took the picture from her, examining it in minute detail. “I told him the truth. That he’d soured you on the military.”
Her mouth fell open. “You didn’t.”
“Not in so many words. But I explained that you weren’t interested in an officer. I told him you wanted a regular nine-to-five kind of husband. One who came home every night instead of being gone months, sometimes years, at a time.”
Fascinated, Liv prompted, “And he said…?”
“That you were just like your mother.” He tore his attention from the photo and settled it on her instead. “He said that a lot, honey. Always with affection, never complaining. He loved her, just as he loved you.”
That left Liv speechless.
Ham smiled. “And then he’d tell me I should damn well work harder at convincing you.”
Before Liv could dwell on that too long, Hamilton drew out a variety of medals. “I figured you’d want these.”
“They’re all his?”
“All the ones I could locate before flying here. He might have more tucked away in his quarters. I’m sure he has more ribbons.” Ham pulled out five Meritorious Service Medals, four Air Force Commendation Medals and a Bronze Star.
He gave her a long look. “In all my years in the air force, I’ve only known two Bronze Star recipients.”
New emotions swelled inside her, crowding out the resentment. In a reverent whisper, she quoted, “Given for acts of heroism and meritorious achievement.”
Holding up the medal, Ham said, “Weston was definitely a hero.” He laid the small badge in Liv’s hands, curled her fingers around it. He, too, dropped his tone to one of solemn respect. “Your dad did some pretty
Ham fetched a box that he’d left on the table in the foyer. Sitting beside her, he opened it and pulled out the framed photograph on top.
“This stayed on your dad’s desk, in the lefthand corner. It was as much a part of his office as his chair and bookshelf.”
Liv recognized the five-by-seven photo as one Ham had taken of her years ago. It was only months after her mother had passed away. She’d been baking, determined to make her father a “welcome home” meal that he’d never forget. Long curls, damp with sweat, hung in her face, and her clothes were limp and disheveled.
“That night, Daddy told me I was as good a cook as my mother.” She smiled, remembering one of the good times. “He didn’t even complain that the meatloaf was dry or the rolls a little burned.”
“He bragged to me that you were one hell of a fine cook.”
Laughing, Liv said, “I bet that’s exactly how he put it, too.”
Ham’s arm slid around her shoulders, comfortable and familiar. “Word for word.”
Liv challenged him with a teasing look. “Is that why you had it framed for him?”
Caught off guard, Ham stalled, and finally rolled one shoulder with a guilty grin. “He liked the photo. Whenever anyone came to his office, they’d look at that picture and ask about it. Weston would hold it with pride and tell everyone that you were his daughter.”
Desperately, Liv clutched at this small proof of affection. “Did he talk about me much?”
“Truthfully? He wanted me to court you.”
A surprised laugh bubbled out. “ Court me?”
“He considered me worthy of his one and only daughter.” Ham pulled out another photo. “This one sat on his bookshelf. He’d always point out what a handsome couple we made, and believe me, your dad didn’t have an ounce of subtlety.”
Skeptical, Liv accepted the smaller, three-by-five shot of her with Hamilton at a military function. She smiled at the camera, but Hamilton stood in profile, his absorbed gaze on Liv’s face. Seeing the picture, and his expression, actually made her blush. “I don’t recognize this one.”
“I have no idea who took it. But it’s been in your dad’s office for years.”
“What did you tell him when he…well, talked about us?”
Stretching out his long legs, Hamilton settled back in the couch and took the picture from her, examining it in minute detail. “I told him the truth. That he’d soured you on the military.”
Her mouth fell open. “You didn’t.”
“Not in so many words. But I explained that you weren’t interested in an officer. I told him you wanted a regular nine-to-five kind of husband. One who came home every night instead of being gone months, sometimes years, at a time.”
Fascinated, Liv prompted, “And he said…?”
“That you were just like your mother.” He tore his attention from the photo and settled it on her instead. “He said that a lot, honey. Always with affection, never complaining. He loved her, just as he loved you.”
That left Liv speechless.
Ham smiled. “And then he’d tell me I should damn well work harder at convincing you.”
Before Liv could dwell on that too long, Hamilton drew out a variety of medals. “I figured you’d want these.”
“They’re all his?”
“All the ones I could locate before flying here. He might have more tucked away in his quarters. I’m sure he has more ribbons.” Ham pulled out five Meritorious Service Medals, four Air Force Commendation Medals and a Bronze Star.
He gave her a long look. “In all my years in the air force, I’ve only known two Bronze Star recipients.”
New emotions swelled inside her, crowding out the resentment. In a reverent whisper, she quoted, “Given for acts of heroism and meritorious achievement.”
Holding up the medal, Ham said, “Weston was definitely a hero.” He laid the small badge in Liv’s hands, curled her fingers around it. He, too, dropped his tone to one of solemn respect. “Your dad did some pretty
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