Free A Midnight Clear by Emma Barry & Genevieve Turner Page B

to haul her off to Pensacola.” Clearly he thought Pensacola farther than the ends of the earth, an odd attitude for a man who’d fought for nameless islands in the Pacific.
    “If we were married, yes, I’d expect my wife to live where I was posted.” God, he wanted to see Frances’s expression, to include her somehow in this conversation, but he didn’t dare break eye contact with the admiral. They weren’t even married and Joe was already steering through rough waters when it came to her and his career. And not doing a great job of it.
    “You shouldn’t,” her father said. “It’s better that she stays with her family if you’re in some backwater.” Pensacola wasn’t a backwater, but Joe held his tongue. “Especially if you’ll be at sea. That’s what wives did during the war. It worked well then and we ought to keep it up. No reason for your wife to suffer through junior officer housing when she could be comfortable.”
    Joe knew Frances’s face was bone white, knew without even glancing at her. Damn discretion—Joe was going to answer in kind. “Your wife was here during the war. More comfortable than the boys overseas, I’m sure. But your daughters were still alone when she passed.”
    Joe had gone out onto thin ice there. But he couldn’t let the admiral’s comments pass by. Not when Frances was hurting.
    To his surprise, the admiral didn’t respond with anger at Joe’s presumption—instead his expression sagged, remorse darkening his eyes. “I wish I could have been there at the end, but it wasn’t possible. My wife understood I had my duty. And she knew how I felt.”
    Joe’s heart twisted. The man’s grief was deep and tightly held. But so was his daughter’s.
    The admiral cleared his throat. “Frances dealt with it all beautifully and took care of her sister.” He sent a profound look toward her. “I’m so proud of her and her strength.”
    Frances blinked hard, but nothing fell from her eyes. Once again, Joe’s heart wrung itself out.
    “No doubt your daughter is strong enough to handle anything. Even the life of a junior officer’s wife, if she wanted.” Now, finally, he met her gaze, locked with hers across the table as he declared himself again. “I’d want my family close to me, always. I wouldn’t want them to feel as through I’d abandoned them for my duties.”
    “I don’t think they would,” Frances said gently.  
    The moment between them held, potent, fraught. He’d declared himself and it appeared she might be as well, if indirectly. But that was the only way they could approach this, gathered at the table with her family as they were.
    He couldn’t wait for dinner to be over, couldn’t wait to get her alone, his entire frame tense with expectation.  
    “What are your plans for Christmas?” Suzanne asked, dissolving the too heavy moment over them.
    The rest of dinner went on in a lighter tone, with talk about Joe’s planned trip home, Frances’s Shakespeare class, and Suzanne’s upcoming winter formal. Joe wouldn’t say he’d completely won over the admiral, but the man wasn’t entirely hostile.  
    After the baked Alaska had been eaten, after Joe had made his goodbyes to the admiral and Suzanne, he found himself back on the front stoop, saying goodbye to the one person he didn’t want to bid farewell to.
    The night was close to freezing and while he was bundled up against the cold, Frances wasn’t. He’d have to keep this short and sweet. Damn it all.
    “Thank you for having me.” He leaned in close, telling himself he was protecting her from the elements.
    She tilted her head up, her lashes veiling those gorgeous eyes of hers. “Thank you for coming.”
    He waited for her to move back toward the door. When she didn’t, he leaned closer, his skin tingling at her nearness. “Do you think your father’s watching?” he asked.
    “Oh, no one can see this part of the stoop from the house—”
    “Good.” He wrapped his arms around her