So Close to You (So Close to You - Trilogy) by Rachel Carter Page A

attached to the top. “Don’t you dare talk to me right now, Clarke. Mary told me it was your idea for that girl to stay here. How could you put my family in this position?”
    Lucas stands up. “Lydia needed help.” His face is harsh, with only his words suggesting the warmth I saw yesterday.
    “You could have passed her on to the Red Cross, or one of the women’s organizations. You didn’t need to bring my family into it.”
    The two men square off across the parlor. Dr. Bentley stands, stepping between them. “We’re happy to take Lydia in—”
    Dean cuts him off harshly. “She’s a stranger.”
    “Stop this.” Mrs. Bentley holds up her hands. Her voice is filled with a quiet authority. “Arguing isn’t helping. Lydia has nowhere to go. We need to help our neighbors during wartime.”
    Both Dean and Lucas look at her and step away from each other. Dean faces the mantel and rests his arm on it heavily. He lowers his head, visibly collecting himself. Lucas turns to the window, his shoulders tense.
    “Find out anything good?” I hear a voice say quietly behind me. I spin around on the steps to see Mary leaning over the stair railing.
    “Not really,” I whisper back.
    She laughs and skips down the stairs, her blue dress fluttering around her legs. It has a pattern of all white roses, and a matching ribbon is threaded through her curly hair.
    “Come on. It’s time you met Dean.”
    The conversation stops when we reach the parlor. I hover near the doorway, gripping the fabric of my skirt with both hands.
    “Just look, Daddy! Isn’t Lydia such a dilly?”
    Dr. Bentley smiles, so I assume being a dilly is a good thing.
    “Hi, Lucas. When did you get here? Has Dean been talking your ears off? I bet he has.” Mary pulls me into the room.
    Lucas’s eyes slowly scan my dress and my clean, curled hair. He opens his mouth, then shuts it.
    “Mary, could you stop talking for two minutes?” Dean snaps. “We need to figure out what to do about … this situation.” He waves in my direction.
    “What’s there to figure out? Lydia’s staying with us. And she isn’t a spy. Just look at her!”
    “Putting her in a pretty dress doesn’t make her any less of a spy.” Dean glares at me. I glance around the room in an effort to avoid his stare. Framed black-and-white photos are propped on the fireplace mantel. Mary and Dean with their arms around each other, standing in front of the house. A small, dark-haired boy standing with Dean and a blond lady. A family portrait, taken in this parlor, everyone smiling into the camera.
    “Oh, phooey.” Mary drops my arm and stalks across the floor toward Dean. “You don’t know anything.”
    He leans down to look her in the eye. “Mary, we’re a country at war. You’d think that would teach you to be careful around strangers.”
    She scowls at him, her hands on her hips. “I trust Lydia.”
    “Why? Because you want a new friend?”
    Lucas turns to me, ignoring the siblings. “How are you feeling, Lydia? You look …” He pauses, clearing his throat. “Well. Better. I mean, good.” He’s standing by the window, and the morning light streams across his face and turns his hair to gold.
    “I’m fine.” I smile at Lucas, but I can’t stop staring at Dean. He’s so different from what I expected. Younger. Tougher. Harsher.
    “Listen to her!” Mary yells at Dean. The two of them are facing each other, only a foot apart. “She doesn’t even have a little bit of a German accent!”
    Dr. Bentley picks up a pipe from a nearby table and lights it. He seems unconcerned by the shouting match between Dean and Mary. I suspect it’s a regular occurrence.
    Mary turns to me. Her nose is scrunched up and her hands are clenched at her sides. “Lydia, tell him. Tell him you’re not a spy!”
    I look at Dean, his long face, sharp jaw, and heavy brows, his frown. I certainly never thought my great-grandfather would hate me on sight. The thought is disappointing and,