Always a Warrior(67)
Laurie chuckled. “Don’t know. Never had a nine-to-five job myself.”
“I guess writers don’t operate on a schedule,” he commented, half serious, his dark eyes intense. “You go with the flow of inspiration.”
ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening
98
“Yes, that’s true. But I wasn’t always a writer, Damien.” With a burst of insight, she stared at him. They knew very little of each other’s pasts. “It took a long time to get a book published. To support us, I worked all kinds of jobs—primarily cleaning motel rooms during the day and waiting tables on night shifts.
“Really.” Damien abandoned his newspapers and focused on her. Curiosity sparked in his eyes. “Did you go to college?”
“I didn’t finish,” she admitted but could not keep the twinge of regret out of her voice. “I couldn’t go to school, work full time, and still spend time with Stacy. So I had to quit. I had to support us and pay a baby-sitter. There wasn’t time for school, which is immaterial because there was no money for school, either.”
“What about your mother? She appears to have plenty of money.”
“She does.” Laurie shrugged in an attempt to ignore the lingering pain and disappointment. “She told me to deal with my own mistake.”
Her mother’s lack of compassion and support had been a bitter pill to swallow but she had choked it down and did what she needed to survive. Laurie wished she could banish the bitterness that surface when she thought of her mother.
“Stacy is only five. You should have finished by then,” Damien pointed out quizzically.
“I got a late start. She refused to pay for it. She told me I had to stand on my own two feet and pay for what I wanted like everyone else.”
Obviously stunned, Damien only looked at her.
Laurie expelled a harsh breath. “Maybe my father’s desertion hurt her. Maybe she never wanted me either. I don’t know. Whatever the problem was, she took it out on me. She always managed to make me feel worthless. She might have paid for college if I’d done what she wanted.” Her voice trailed into silence as she glanced at the ceiling.
“What was that?” Damien prompted.
“Go to college and find some idiot to marry.” Laurie scowled at the memory of that fierce argument. “I didn’t want to get married. I wanted to write. She threw a fit and cut me off financially.”
Damien shook his head, sympathy in his eyes. “I’m sorry it was so hard on you.”
“Don’t be,” she countered, smiling as she looked back at him. “I got what I wanted. I’m published and successful. And I have Stacy. I can stand on my own two feet.”
“Miss Independence,” Damien teased lightly.
Laurie joined him at the table and glanced at the newspapers. “What kind of job are you looking for?”
Damien looked at the papers again then back at her. “Computers. I’m a whiz, or so I’ve been told.”
“Oh,” she said, surprised.
He gave her another teasing grin. “SEALs have multiple talents. We don’t just shoot people.”
He folded the papers and stacked them neatly. “Getting a job shouldn’t be a problem.
Mind if I use your computer? Do you have Internet?”
“Help yourself. Dinner will be an hour or so.” She waved him out of the kitchen.
Laurie frowned thoughtfully as he left the kitchen with his pile of newspapers. She pondered the situation as she prepared the beef using her own recipe. The idea that Damien was seriously considering leaving the Navy disturbed her. Did he think that was what she wanted or needed?
ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening
99
She cut slits in the meat then stuffed sliced mushrooms and chopped onions inside. She put carrots, potatoes, whole mushrooms, and cocktail onions in the baking pan with the meat then poured a whole bottle of teriyaki marinade over everything. After covering the pan with foil, she put it in the oven to cook for an hour.
After checking on Stacy, who was playing happily in her room, she paused in the doorway of her office. Damien was concentrating intently on the computer screen. Frowning again, she watched him scribble notes on a yellow legal pad then click the mouse and focus again on the screen. Disconcerted, she left him to his cyber search.
* * * *
“What kind of beef was that?” Damien asked after eating two full plates of food. “It was great.”
“London broil,” she replied, pleased with his obvious appreciation. “Into the tub, Stacy.”
“Really?” he countered, surprised. “London broil is usually tough, dry, or both.”