"No." He shut his eyes. Preparatory. "No!" His complete, total, utter, incontrovertible, inarguable rejection slammed down final as a fist; he kept his hands to himself, though. Ever the gentleman, despite his rights. "You are wrong, Claire." His declaration; his exclusive Magna Charta. "This is not it."
She recoiled. Asked herself, Could Catholics be any worse?
There was more from her father. He was flying now. And collapsing, too, though a little dangerous still: like sparks from a burning field going unwanted places. Almost extinguished. Be watchful.
"Not at all!" Mr. Stiles hook his head violently. "He didn't ask my approval. You did not ask my blessing." Ask was obviously important. "And so? No, Claire: this will not happen. You will not marry him. My final word." He paused. Daughter and mother stared back at him exhausted, without much interest left. "Which is the final word," he concluded. Well, there's the truth. For the moment.
"I'm asking now, Da," Claire demanded in seconds; just as rigidly. "Your approval?" She grimaced. "Your blessing? Can you do that?" Leaning in. "How can you not want me married?" she said, wide nostrils and all. That was the only question in her arsenal really; she was wilting.
"You think that will make you happy?" her father insisted; he sensed weakness. "Ask your mother." He turned on his wife. "Did marriage," he argued, "make you happy? Tell her."
Why not? Martha decided.
"Yes, Jack, it did," surprising him as much as her. "Not this very moment. But yes." She stared at him. "I have Claire. I have you. I have my place in the world. Yes. Marriage did that. It's not all bone china and carriage rides, I'll grant you, Mr. Jack Stiles. Husbands take work. Though you less than others; for all your bluster and stubborn opinions. Marriage changed everything. It changed my life. It will change Claire's life. It makes something of a person. It's what adults are meant for."
Jack's lips pursed. He made a noise, a wondering "Hmmmh," while his head nodded.
He was startled plainly. He'd never asked his wife about their marriage or what she thought of it. And he'd just heard. He was surprised to hear that it pleased her. It pleased him very much quietly.
Claire sat stiff as an Egyptian pharaoh. Mrs. Stiles lifted an eyebrow. "I don't know," Stiles said, mostly to himself. Claire tried a bite of food. It had no flavor.
"He should still ask me," her father said.
"He will," Claire agreed in a rush. "With pleasure. He will."
Then, why not, she couldn't hold back. Joy flushed through her.
She jumped from her chair and grabbed her father's shoulders. She kissed him on the forehead, her aging auburn hair tickling both sides of his face; an intimacy they had not shared since she'd been a child shooed to bed.
Then she pulled her mother into her arms.
Suddenly Claire was famished.