Читать книгу Light in the Storm - Margaret Daley - Страница 11

My great escape, Beth thought, but decided not to voice that answer. “This is the celebration I told you about. I’m planning a long vacation and having a party to celebrate the fact.”

“That’s as good a reason as any to have a celebration.” Samuel finally released his hold on her hand.

“You’re invited if you want to come. It’s next Saturday night at my house.” When Beth thought she saw hesitation in his eyes, she hastened to add, “It’ll be a good way for you to get to know some of the congregation in a less formal environment.” Now, why had she said that? That had always been Jesse’s role.

“Darcy and I will be there along with our husbands.” Jesse shot a look toward Darcy that conveyed a message that Beth couldn’t see. “I’ll volunteer to help you with the preparations, Beth, since giving dinner parties is my specialty.”

Beth knew she would have to put a stop to her friend’s matchmaking scheme that she could almost see percolating in her mind. She couldn’t very well exclude the reverend after he’d overheard their discussion of her celebration. Yeah, right.

“I can help, too,” Darcy said, rubbing her stomach. “We can meet at your house for our Saturday-morning get-together instead of at Alice’s Café.”

Beth forced a smile to her lips. “Thanks,” she murmured, again noticing a nonverbal exchange between Darcy and Jesse.

“Oh, I see Nick waving to me. Got to go.” Jesse hugged Beth and Darcy goodbye and hurried away.

“And I need to sit down. I’m going to find Joshua and a quiet corner to rest in.” Darcy kissed Beth on the cheek, then nodded toward Samuel before lumbering toward her husband, who was leaning against the piano.

That was the fastest getaway her two friends had ever made. Beth made a mental note to call them and set them straight the second she got home from church. She was not looking for a man. Didn’t they know she was the plain town spinster who was a good twenty or thirty pounds overweight?

“Since that just leaves you and me, can we talk a moment in private?”

You and me. Those simple words conjured up all kinds of visions that mocked her earlier words that she wasn’t looking to date. “Sure. Is something wrong?”

Samuel gestured toward an area away from the crowd in the rec hall, an alcove with a padded bench that offered them a more quiet environment. He sat, and waited for her to do the same. She stared at the small space that allowed only two people to sit comfortably—and the reverend was a large man who took up more than his half of the bench. While she debated whether to stand or sit, a perplexed expression descended on his face. If it hadn’t been for Jesse insisting on fixing her up with Samuel, she wouldn’t be undecided about something as simple as sitting and talking with him, she thought.

With a sigh she sat, her leg and arm brushing against his. Awareness—a sensation she didn’t deal with often—bolted through her. “What do you need to discuss?”

“Jane. She won’t let me help her with her homework.” He rubbed the palms of his hands together. “I’m at a loss as to what to do with her. Any suggestions?”

“Let me see how we do tomorrow when she stays after school. At the beginning of every year I give a learning-styles inventory to see how each student learns. I haven’t had a chance to give it to Jane yet, but I will this week. I’ll know more after that.”

“Learning styles?”

“Whether she’s a visual, auditory or kinesthetic learner. Then I can use that information to teach her the way she learns best.”

“I appreciate any help you can give me. I suspect tomorrow when I talk with her other teachers I’m going to find she hasn’t done any work for them, either.”

“You said she hasn’t taken her mother’s death well. Have you considered counseling?”

“Tried that, and she wouldn’t talk to a stranger. She just sat there, most of the time not saying a word.”

“How about someone she knows?”

“Aunt Mae has tried and Jane just clammed up.” He rubbed his thumb into his palm. “I’ve tried and haven’t done much better. Jane has always been an introvert. She doesn’t express her emotions much.”

“Let me see what I can do,” Beth said, knowing she didn’t have long before she would be gone. Four months might not be long enough to establish a relationship with the teenager and get her to open up about what was bothering her. She would encourage Jane to go to the school counselor. Zoey Witherspoon was very good at her job.

Samuel rose. “I appreciate any help,” he repeated. “I’m a desperate dad.”

“I hear that frequently. I teach fifteen-year-olds who have raging hormones. They fluctuate between being a child and an adult, from being dependent on their parents to being independent of them.”

“I was a teenager once, not that long ago, but frankly it didn’t prepare me for dealing with my daughter. I think I might have a better handle on Craig when he becomes a teenager.” He chuckled. “At least I hope so, since that’s only a year away.”

“I know what you mean. I raised two brothers and a sister. My sister was easier for me. I struggled with Daniel, my youngest brother. I’m surprised he made it through high school. He failed several subjects and had to go to school a semester longer than his classmates. I will say I saw him grow up a lot in the past six months. I think watching all his friends go off to college last summer while he had to return to high school sobered him and made him aware of some of the mistakes he’d made.”

Samuel placed a hand on her arm. “Thank you.”

The touch of his fingers seared her. She knew she was overreacting to the gesture, but she couldn’t stop her heart from pounding against her chest. She was afraid its loud thumping could be heard across the rec hall. Even before she’d begun raising her siblings she hadn’t dated much. She was plain and shy, not two aspects that drew scores of men.

“You’re welcome,” she finally answered, her lips, mouth and throat dry. And she had been the one to invite him to her party next Saturday night.

Jane slammed the book closed. “How are you supposed to look a word up in the dictionary when you don’t have any idea how to spell it?” She slouched back in her desk, defiance in her expression.

Beth glanced up from grading a paper. “What word?”

“Perspective.”

“How do you think you spell it?”

“I don’t know!” The girl’s frustration etched a deep frown into her features.

Beth rose and came around her desk to stand next to Jane’s. “What do you think it starts with?”

“I don’t—” Jane’s eyes narrowed, and she looked toward the window. “With a p.” Her gaze returned to Beth’s. “But there are thousands of words that start with p.”

“Let’s start with the first syllable. Per.”

“P-r—” Jane pinched her lips together, her brows slashing downward.

“Almost. It’s p-e-r. What do you think comes next? Perspective.”

Jane leaned forward, folding her arms over the dictionary. “At this rate I’ll get one paragraph written by this time tomorrow. What’s the use?”

“I have a dictionary of commonly misspelled words. I can lend it to you. It might help with some of the words. If it does, you can get your own copy. See if you can find it by looking up p-e-r-s-p.” Beth knew it would be a lot faster and easier on everyone if she spelled the word completely for Jane, but she wanted to see how the teenager did. She had a feeling a lot more was going on with the young woman. Not only did she have few word attack skills, but she read with difficulty.

Jane blew out a breath and flipped the dictionary open, thumbing through the pages until she found the p section. With only a handful of selections to choose from, Jane pointed and said, “There.” She pushed the dictionary to the side and wrote down the word, grumbling about the time it had taken to find it.

Beth made her way back to her desk. Jane had been struggling with the writing assignment for an hour. The past few days working with her after school had sent red flags waving concerning Jane’s academic ability. Beth decided that when Samuel came to pick up his daughter she would have a talk with him about Jane.

Not ten minutes later Beth knew the instant Samuel appeared in the doorway. As though she had a sixth sense when it came to the man, she looked up to find him smiling at her from across the room. A dimple appeared in his left cheek, drawing Beth’s attention.

The second Jane saw him she finished the sentence she had been writing and gathered up her papers. She started to slide from the desk.

“Are you through, Jane?” Samuel asked, entering.

His presence seemed to shrink the large classroom to the size of a small closet, and for the life of her, Beth couldn’t understand why her pulse began to race. She suddenly worried that she looked as if she had spent the whole day in front of 150 students trying to inspire them to love literature—which she had. She felt even plainer, and wheeled her chair closer to her desk to shield her rather drab dress of gray cotton that didn’t quite hide her extra pounds. Maybe she should buy a few new outfits, more updated with some splashes of color, she thought.

“Yes.” Jane rose and brought the paper to Beth’s desk. After plopping it down, she headed for the door. “I’m getting a drink of water and going to my locker.”

The tension that churned the air left with Jane. Samuel watched his daughter disappear through the doorway before he turned toward Beth with one brow arched.

“This writing assignment was very difficult for her.” Beth picked up Jane’s paper and skimmed it. “And from the looks of it, she doesn’t have a firm background in grammar, punctuation and spelling. Her thoughts on the subject are good ones, but she has a hard time getting them down on paper.”

Samuel covered the distance between them and hovered in front of Beth’s desk—way too close for her peace of mind. The dimple in his left cheek vanished as he frowned.

“What are you telling me?” He took Jane’s paper and began to read.

“I think Jane needs to be tested to see if she has a learning disability.”

His head shot up, his gaze riveted to hers. “A learning disability!”

“A learning disability doesn’t mean that Jane isn’t smart. People with normal, even high, IQs can have a learning disability that hinders them learning what they need to know. How’s she doing in her other classes?”

“Not well except for geometry. She’s got an A in that class. That and advanced drawing.”

“Is she doing the work for the other teachers?”

“No. The same as yours. I’m trying to help her every night. She can’t do anything until she gets her homework done, which basically takes her the whole evening. The Morgan household has not been a fun one this past week. I feel more like a drill sergeant than a father.”

Disregarding how she imagined she looked, Beth stood, feeling at a disadvantage sitting behind her desk. She came around beside Samuel, wanting to help, to comfort. “I think she struggles with the reading part. When I gave her the learning-styles inventory, she tested almost completely a visual learner. So much of the work in high school is from lectures. I’m not sure she’s getting it. Her auditory skills seem to be weak.”

“Then what do I need to do?”

“Sign permission for her to be tested. I’ll refer her and our school psychologist will contact you.”

“I don’t know how well Jane will take this.”

Beth touched his arm, the urge to comfort growing stronger the longer she was around this man. There was something about him that conveyed a troubled soul, and she had never been able to turn away from someone in need. “This can all be handled without the other students knowing.”

“I don’t have a choice.”

As his gaze locked with hers, Beth forgot where she was for a moment. Finally when she shook off the effect he had on her senses, she said, “You always have a choice. But if she’s having trouble reading it’s better to know now than later.”

“You don’t think it’s normal teenage rebellion?”

“No. I think she’s using her defiant attitude as a way to cover up not knowing.”

“Then refer her.”

“Do you want me to talk to Jane about what I’m doing?”

“No, that’s my job. I’ll talk with her on the way home. I don’t want her to be surprised.”

“I’ll be glad to help any way I can.”

Again his gaze snared hers, drawing her in. “You’ve already done so much.”

“Dad, aren’t you coming?” Framed in the doorway, Jane slung her backpack over her left shoulder.

“Yes. I’ll be by this time tomorrow to pick her up.”

Samuel left the classroom, with his daughter walking ahead of him at a fast clip. When he stepped outside, the brisk winter air blasted him in the face. Snow still blanketed the ground, but the roads had been cleared. He found his daughter in the passenger seat of his Ford Mustang, her eyes closed, her head resting against the cushion. For a few seconds he took in her calm expression, which of late was rare, and regretted the conversation to come. But Jane needed to know what was going to happen.

Samuel started the car and drove out of the school parking lot. Lord, I know I haven’t visited with You as I should. But I need help with Jane. Please help me to find the right words to explain about the testing. Please help me to understand what is happening with my daughter.

“What were you and Miss Coleman talking about?” Jane sat up, watching the landscape out the side window.

He took a deep, composing breath. “She wants to refer you for testing and I told her to go ahead.”

Jane twisted toward him. “Testing? What kind?”

“She thinks you’re struggling to read and that you might have a learning disability.”

“I’m not dumb!”

“She didn’t say that and I’m not, either. Your A in geometry proves that. But something’s going on, Jane. Don’t you want to find out what it is?”

“I’m not dumb!” Tears glistened in his daughter’s eyes.

Shaken by the sight of her tears, Samuel parked his car in his driveway. Jane rarely cried. He started to reach for her to comfort her, but she glared at him. Swiping the back of her hand across her cheeks, she shoved the door open, bolted from the car and ran toward the house.

He gripped the steering wheel and let his head sag until it touched the cold plastic. He hadn’t handled that well. Like everything else the past few years, he was fumbling to find the correct path. He felt as though he were lost in the desert, wandering around trying to find the promised land.

“I’m so glad you could come a little early.” Beth held open the door and stepped to the side to allow Jesse into her house.

“Am I imagining things or was that panic in your voice a little while ago?” Jesse asked, following her through the living room into the dining room.

“You know I don’t entertain much. I don’t even know why I decided to have this party. I’ve got the house clean. That was easy. But do I have enough food for everyone?” Beth gestured toward the table that could seat eight if the leaf was in it, which it was.

Jesse’s eyes grew round. “What color is the tablecloth? I can’t tell. You’ve got so much food on it.”

“Are you trying to tell me I overdid it?”

“How many people did you invite? The whole congregation plus the staff you work with?”

“I don’t want anyone going hungry.”

“Believe me, if they do, they have an eating disorder.”

Beth scanned the table laden with three cakes, two pies, several dozen cookies and brownies, vegetable and fruit trays with two different dips each, several kinds of small sandwiches without the crust, crackers and chips with assorted spreads and a cheese ball. “I had to put the drinks in the kitchen. I ran out of room.”

Jesse snatched up a carrot stick and took a bite. “So how many people are coming?”

“Besides you and Nick, Darcy and Joshua, there are the reverend, Tanya Bolton, Zoey Witherspoon, Paul Howard and Boswell.”

“Boswell? He didn’t say anything to me about coming.”

“I saw him at the grocery yesterday when I was buying some of the food and thought he might enjoy coming. You don’t mind, do you?”

“No, especially since Nate and Cindy are over at Gramps and Susan’s. I’m glad Boswell’s getting out. I’ve felt guilty about uprooting him from Chicago. He promises me that he doesn’t mind living in Sweetwater, but I’m not sure I believe him.” Jesse popped a potato chip into her mouth. “What do you want me to help you with?”

Beth twirled. “Do I look all right?”

“Why, Beth Coleman, I’ve never known you to care too much about how you look.”

Regretting that she had given in to her panic and called Jesse for advice, Beth started toward the kitchen. She realized she was plain, but that didn’t mean she didn’t care about how she appeared to others. Come on, Beth, don’t you really mean Samuel Morgan?

“You can wipe that smug smile off your face, Jesse. I just didn’t want to be overdressed.”

Jesse stopped Beth’s progress with a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll be serious. Turn around.”

Beth faced her friend, her hands on her waist, now hoping she could pull off an “I don’t care” attitude.

With a finger against her chin, Jesse studied her. “Black jeans with a cream silk blouse. Not bad. New blouse?”

The heat of a blush scored Beth’s cheeks. “Yes. I haven’t bought anything new in months.” And except for an occasional treat to herself for Christmas and her birthday, she purchased only the basic necessities she needed for school. While her siblings had been growing up, clothing had been expensive, not to mention later helping with their college tuition.

Holding up her hands, Jesse took a step back. “Stop right there. I’m glad you’re finally doing something for yourself and not just for your brothers and sister. It’s about time.” Her gaze skimmed the length of Beth once more. “Deep-six the tennis shoes. Heels would be better with what you have on.”

“Tennis shoes go with jeans.”

“But heels will look better with your blouse, which is soft and feminine. Don’t you have a black pair we got last year?”

“They’re awfully dressy. This is a casual party.”

Jesse flipped her hand in the air, dismissing Beth’s concerns. “You’ll be casually elegant.”

The sound of the doorbell cut through the sudden silence.

Beads of perspiration popped out on Beth’s upper lip. She didn’t give parties. Why had she come up with this way to kick off her new outlook on life? Bad, bad idea.

Jesse waved her toward her bedroom. “Go. I’ll get the door. I don’t want to see those tennis shoes.”

Wiping her hand across her upper lip, Beth hurried away, wondering if she could hide for at least an hour in her bedroom. She would have been fine with just Darcy, Joshua, Jesse and Nick. She could have convinced herself that this wasn’t a party she was responsible for, but the additional five people made a mockery out of that thought.

While rifling through the bottom of her closet for the box that held her black heels, she heard laughter coming from her living room and the doorbell chiming again. When she finally found the shoes, stuck way in the back, she examined them, unable to believe she had bought them. It was Jesse’s fault. She’d worn them only once—to Darcy’s wedding. Jesse had been with her when she had purchased them. In fact, Jesse had been the one who had insisted she buy them. On her own she never would have, and still couldn’t believe she’d let Jesse talk her into them. Beth held them up, still debating whether to wear the silk-and-leather heels. They were three inches high—two more than she usually wore—with long pointed toes and no back strap. They looked uncomfortable, but actually—much to her surprise when she had tried them on at the store—they were very comfortable.

When the bell announced another arrival, Beth kicked off her tennis shoes and removed her socks, then donned the black heels. She didn’t dare look at herself in her full-length mirror. She knew she wouldn’t leave the room if she did. Hurrying as quickly as possible in her heels, she came into the foyer as Jesse opened the door to another guest—Reverend Samuel Morgan.

He peered past Jesse toward Beth and for the barest moment his eyes flashed surprise. The hammering of her heart increased, worry nibbling at her composure. What did she look like? She’d tried some new makeup she’d gotten at the grocery store yesterday and had left her curly hair down about her shoulders, probably in a wild mess by now. She wanted to whirl around, go back to her bedroom and check her appearance in her full-length mirror.

Then he smiled and her world tilted for a few seconds.

After murmuring a greeting to Jesse, Samuel came toward Beth, his long strides purposeful as if he were a man on a mission. “Thank you for including me in your celebration.” He clasped her hand between his and shook it. “I haven’t had a chance to do much since moving here. As you suggested, it’ll be nice to meet some of my congregation in a relaxed atmosphere.”

Relaxed atmosphere? There was nothing remotely relaxed about her at the moment. “I’m glad you could come.” Her hand was still sandwiched between his. Suddenly she didn’t feel thirty-eight but a young woman of eighteen, inexperienced but eager to learn the ways of dating. That was not to say she hadn’t dated a few men over the years, but most of her time had been taken up with caring for her siblings and trying to make ends meet, first as a college student and then on the meager pay of a teacher. She definitely felt like a novice.

Finally releasing her hand, Samuel peeked into the living room, which also gave him a view of the dining-room table loaded with food. “Is everyone here?”

Beth scanned the small group of friends and nodded. “I like to cook and I just kept preparing food until I ran out of time.” She actually had missed not cooking for others since Daniel had left for college.

“I’m glad I didn’t have time to eat dinner before coming.”

“So am I. I don’t know what I’m going to do with this after you all leave.”

“Freeze it,” Jesse said, approaching them.

“I don’t have a big enough freezer. You all are going to have to take some home with you.”

“Did I hear correctly? We’ll be taking doggie bags home with us?” Joshua asked, helping Darcy onto the couch.

Darcy laughed, shifting to get as comfortable as possible for a woman eight months pregnant. “I still haven’t mastered the art of cooking, and poor Liz and Dad get tired of us coming to eat with them at the farm.”

Joshua sat next to his wife and took her hand. “She’s become quite good with one or two dishes. Sean and I don’t order pizza nearly like we used to.”

Darcy playfully punched Joshua on the arm. “I’m not that bad. I can prepare more than one or two.”

Beth leaned close to Samuel, and immediately realized her mistake when she got a whiff of his citrusy aftershave. “Yes, she is. Just remember that when planning anything having to do with food at the church.”

“I heard that, Beth Coleman. I thought you were my friend.”

The laughter in Darcy’s voice took the sting out of her words. “I’ll give you two doggie bags, Joshua.”

“Thanks. You’re a good woman, Beth.”

She was used to the ribbing among her and her friends, but with Samuel next to her, she couldn’t help feeling as though she were on stage in front of a whole group of strangers. And that was something she avoided at all costs. She was a behind-the-scenes kind of person, never wanting to be in the limelight like Jesse and even Darcy.

“Please, everyone get a plate and eat. The drinks are in the kitchen,” Beth announced, aware of Samuel’s every move next to her. She felt his gaze on her and wanted to escape. She knew both Jesse and Darcy would never allow her to. This was why she didn’t give parties, she remembered—too late.

“I believe you know everyone here, Samuel.” Beth gestured toward her guests. “I need to see if there’s enough ice for the drinks.” She practically ran from the man, making a beeline for the kitchen and, she hoped, time to regroup. If she had thought this party thing through, she would have invited at least half a dozen more people, she thought. She was afraid Jesse would begin to pair everyone off and find there was no one for Samuel except either Tanya or her.

In the kitchen Boswell placed ice into his glass from the bucket that Beth had already filled. He glanced toward her when she entered.

“Do you have everything you need?” she asked, relieved he was the only one in the room.

Jesse and Nick’s British manservant poured diet soda into his glass. “I swore I would never drink this stuff, but alas, the pounds are beginning to show. I can’t believe I’ve been forced to this.”

Beth suppressed a smile. “There’s always water.”

“You have bottled water?”

“Well, no. But the water from the tap is fine.”

Horror flitted across his face. “I’ll drink this.”

As he left, Beth said, “And don’t forget to eat. I’m sure there’s something on the table that isn’t fattening.”

The second he was gone, Beth released a long sigh, relishing the quiet of the kitchen. Then the door swung open and Tanya entered. “I almost ran into Boswell. If it wasn’t for his quick reflexes, he would have dropped his drink.”

“I’d better prop the door open or there’ll be an accident.”

While Tanya sailed past her to the counter where the drinks were, Beth retrieved a brick she used when she wanted to leave the swinging door open between the kitchen and the dining room. As she straightened from placing it at the base of the door, she took a step back and collided with a solid wall of flesh. The scent of citrus drifted to her, and she knew Samuel was behind her.

She fixed a smile on her face and turned. “Can I get you anything to drink? I’ve got sodas, iced tea, decaf coffee and fruit punch. And of course, there’s water.” Nerves stretched taut, she listened to herself speak so fast she wondered if Samuel even understood what she said. He looked a little dazed. “Oh, and I forgot. I have hot apple cider on the stove,” she added a lot more slowly.

“That sounds nice. But I can get it.”

Tanya breezed by. “Beth, I’m filling in for Darcy in her Sunday-school class until after the baby comes.”

“Great,” Beth said to Tanya’s back as she disappeared into the dining room.

“She has so much energy.” Samuel followed Beth to the stove and watched her ladle a steaming cup of apple cider into a blue ceramic mug.

“That’s Tanya.” She poured some cider for herself.

Samuel leaned back against the counter and took a tentative sip of his drink, surveying the kitchen. “I like your home. Very cozy.”

“And small. Not now, but when my brothers and sister lived here, we met ourselves coming and going. One bathroom and four people isn’t what I call an ideal situation.” She was chattering again—most uncharacteristic.

“You raised all your siblings?” Samuel appeared relaxed and comfortable as though he was going to stay a while. He crossed his legs at the ankles and grasped the edge of the counter with one hand.

Dressed in black slacks and a striped gray-and-maroon shirt, he filled her kitchen with his large presence, someone who quietly commanded people’s attention. She still marveled that he was a minister, when he looked more like a linebacker or a well-trained soldier. Did he work out? That question surprised her and made her gasp.

Samuel cocked his head, his brow furrowed. “Something wrong?”

She shook her head, berating herself for the folly of her thoughts. “Forgot something.” My brain, she thought, realizing she hadn’t really lied to her preacher.

“Can I help?”

“No, everything’s under control.” Just as soon as I stop thinking about you. “To answer your question, yes, I raised my brothers and sister. I was nineteen when my mother died in childbirth, and I wasn’t going to let the state take them away from our home, such as it is.”

“Where was your father?”

She should have realized he would ask that question. She bit the inside of her mouth, trying to transfer the mental pain she felt when her father was mentioned to a physical one instead. It didn’t work. Even after nineteen years her father’s abandonment bored into her heart, leaving a gaping hole she wasn’t sure would ever totally heal. “He left us when my mother was six months pregnant with their fourth child. He walked out one day and we never heard from him again.”

Samuel straightened from the counter. “I’m sorry. I know how inadequate those words can be at times, but it’s never easy when a parent abandons a child.”

“That’s why I would never abandon my brothers and sister to let some stranger raise them.”

“That was quite a task to take on by yourself at nineteen. You didn’t have any relatives to help you?”

“We’re a small family. My father had an uncle who tried to help some when he could, but he was old and set in his ways. Both of my parents were only children. My mother used to say that’s why she wanted a houseful of kids. I guess my father didn’t feel that way.” The intense pressure in her chest made each breath difficult. She drew in several deep gulps of air, but nothing seemed to relieve the constriction. She hadn’t thought about her father in a long time—most people knew it was a subject she didn’t discuss.

“I can see I’ve distressed you.” He took a step toward her, reaching to touch her arm in comfort.

She backed up against the refrigerator, feeling trapped by the kindness in his expression. “You would think I’d be over it after nineteen years.”

His arm fell to his side. “No, I don’t know if a child ever totally gets over a parent walking out on her. It’s hard enough on a child when one parent dies. Even though the parent doesn’t choose to die, the child still experiences abandonment.”

“Not just the child but the spouse, too.”

The air vibrated with suppressed tension, the focus of the conversation shifting.

For a few seconds a haunted look dimmed his dark eyes, then he managed to veil his expression by lowering his lashes. “Yes.”