CHAPTER THIRTY

Lydia Babineaux was seated at a small couch in a sitting room that looked to the backyard, where Jo saw a large pool and waterfall past a huge portico. She stood up when Kline walked in and introduced Jo.

“We finished our interview,” Kline pronounced. “I thought it’d be a good time for you to meet Jo.”

Lydia reached out with a small smile and shook Jo’s hand. The woman’s grip was light, her hand vertical—she didn’t perceive herself as dominant to Jo. She then gestured for Jo to take a seat on a couch perpendicular to hers. As Jo settled into the couch, Kline backed up, but he remained by the door, observant. It was obvious this routine had happened before, and both he and Lydia knew what to do.

“So,” Lydia said, her voice soft as a warm breeze. “Kline must’ve been impressed with you.”

“We had a nice chat,” Jo replied.

She waited for Lydia to carry the conversation. Instead, the woman just scrutinized Jo, and Jo did the same in return with her.

Lydia was an inch or two shorter than Jo’s five-nine, her blond hair stunning in the sunlight. But what struck Jo most was the woman’s eyes, a piercing but sad blue, with wrinkles pulling at the edges. This woman was carrying some kind of burden. Classical music played in the background, and Kline stood silent. Lydia’s gaze roved around the room before settling back on Jo.

“This is one of my favorite rooms in the house,” Lydia said. “It’s so peaceful here.”

Jo glanced around as well. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in plenty of sunshine, but the air-conditioning was on overdrive to keep the room pleasantly cool. The furniture was dark hardwood, with pottery and metal artwork on glass shelves behind Lydia. The cream-colored marble flooring was polished, and not a speck of dust was in sight.

“It’s a pleasant space,” Jo agreed.

Lydia stared into the yard, looked at Kline, and then focused on Jo.

“Tell me about yourself,” she said.

Jo launched into the same background that Kline had of her, not going into any further detail. Lydia nodded politely but didn’t interrupt. When Jo finished talking, the woman crossed her legs.

“Did you like your military service?” she asked.

“For the most part,” Jo said. “With every job, there are pros and cons.”

“The pros?”

“I helped my country,” Jo said simply. “And I liked traveling the world, going places the average person never does.”

“Were the physical demands challenging?”

“At times,” Jo said. “But I was an athlete in high school, and I enjoyed the challenges the Army presented.”

“Any issues being a woman in the Army?”

“At times, but I can handle myself.”

Lydia eyed her coolly. “I’ll bet you can.” Jo said nothing, and she went on. “And the cons?”

“Being away from my family.”

“Tell me about your family.”

“There’s my father, and my sister.”

“Is she older or younger?”

“She’s ten years younger than me,” Jo said.

“So she was just a teen when you went into the military?”

Jo nodded. “Yes. She grew up a lot while I was overseas.”

“You missed her?”

“Of course.”

Lydia shifted on the couch. “That was a hard time, yes?”

She was getting to the meat of things, and Jo had to quickly assess how much she should share. The woman wanted to know her on a more personal level than Kline had pried into. She needed to make a connection with Lydia, but there were things Jo kept close to her heart.

“My mother was diagnosed with cancer while I was overseas,” Jo said. “It was a tough time, not being there when she grew sicker.”

When her mother had gotten sick, Jo hadn’t come home, hadn’t seen her suffer. Will and Avery had only recently forgiven her for that decision.

“She died,” Lydia said softly.

“I came back for the funeral. It was a difficult time.”

“I’m sure it must’ve been,” Lydia murmured. Her mouth wrinkled. “My mother died of cancer. She was a smoker, and she got emphysema. She just . . . withered away, and there was nothing anybody could do.”

“I’m sorry,” Jo said.

Lydia smiled. “Thank you. She’s been gone for several years, but I still miss her. She was kind to people, and I could talk to her. My father misses her, too. He’s a good man and provided well for his family. After Mom died, he sold the house they lived in, and he’s in a wonderful retirement community. He loves it, loves the interaction with people. It’s nice to see him happy.” She paused, and Jo waited. “Your sister helped with your mother?”

“Yes.”

“I helped with my mother too. It was so difficult at times, but worth it.”

“I missed a lot,” Jo said, allowing some of her true regret to show but masking her other emotions.

“But you’ve tried to make up for your mistakes?”

“Yes.”

“And your father?”

Jo was glad for the change of subject, but there was still plenty of emotion surrounding this. How much to share? she thought. Will was a strong man, not one to show his emotions. He’d always loved her, but he’d rarely showed it, not the way one might expect a father to. After her recent visit to Colorado, things between them were much better—although in a new way, and due to new dangers, much more fraught than ever.

“My father’s a mechanic. He knows everything about cars,” Jo said. That was the truth. He could be stubborn and standoffish, but she left that unsaid.

“And your sister?”