That had been her birthday, seven years before. She swore tonight would be different. Tense, sure; but tonight she wasn't alone. Tonight she had Amos squarely on her side. On her side. Amos was a good man, a willing man, a strong man, a dependable man, very dependable, supremely dependable. A serious man, a capable man, an older man. A man her da would respect. Or accede to anyway.
Another thing on her side this time?
She was at this moment 28 years of age. And clearly, unless fate intervened, Claire was headed for a burdensome spinsterhood in a cramped household with an outdoor WC. She flexed her fists, felt her gloves tighten defiantly over her knuckles. Da knew this as well as anyone. So?
Tonight, da. Tonight I'm not 21. Tonight I am a true adult with a decision to share, not debate.
Tonight calendar 1942 Claire would speak her piece.
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She'd eaten nothing beforehand. Fights went better on an empty stomach, she'd decided. Sure, her da would eat; so maybe he'd be sedated, wouldn't that be grand?
And thank God for Amos. Soon-to-be-spouse, spirit, support, champion, mature, successful, from the conquering army, an officer, well-spoken, attached to her, desiring her, loving her. Right?
Well, she wouldn't be talking to her parents all that intimately, no.