Clarke was vastly impressed by Joe's fabulous new plane, and afterward on the way back to the house they stopped at a roadhouse for some beers. It was a hot summer day, and Joe was happy with his plane. But Clarke had a lot on his mind, his daughter's happiness, his wife's sanity, and he wanted to offer Joe some fatherly advice. It was why he had gone flying with Joe, although he had enjoyed the plane.

“You're working too hard, son,” he began. “You're going to miss out on life, and at the speed you're moving, you could make some important mistakes that will cost you in the long run.” Joe recognized instantly that he was talking about Kate, but he also knew that all was well with them. It was her mother who was in a constant frenzy about the status quo.

“Things will settle down in a while, Clarke, the business is young,” he said confidently.

“So are you, but you won't be for long. You should enjoy it now.”

“I am. I love what I'm doing.” He did, and it showed. But he also loved Kate, and Clarke knew that too. Enough so that he felt justified violating a promise he had made to Liz years before, to not talk about her late husband's suicide, or even that Clarke wasn't Kate's father, to people who hadn't been around then. When Clarke had adopted Kate, Liz had told him she didn't want John Barrett's suicide hanging over Kate like a dark cloud for the rest of her life. But Clarke knew better than Liz that in a silent way it had anyway. And he thought that Joe should know. It was an important piece of who Kate was, and couldn't be ignored. It wasn't fair to her, or even Joe. And Clarke thought it might open Joe's eyes, and his heart, if he knew.

“There's something about Kate I think you should know,” Clarke said quietly after they had finished their second round of beers and switched to gin. He knew that Liz wouldn't be pleased if they both came home drunk, but at the moment he didn't care. He had made up his mind about telling Joe, and needed to steel himself for the task.

“That sounds mysterious,” Joe said with a grin. He liked Clarke, and for his entire life, he had been more comfortable with men. Kate was the only woman he had ever felt open and easy with, and even she frightened him sometimes. Particularly when she got wound up about something, which fortunately, was rare. But when she did, any sense of intensity or criticism drove him away. He'd never explained it to her. He thought telling her when she frightened him might make him even more vulnerable. After his early years with his cousins constantly telling him how worthless he was, any hint of that in the years since made him want to run. It was the button Kate's mother pushed in him, with unpleasant results every time.

“It is mysterious,” Clarke confirmed to him about Kate. “Not so much mysterious as dark. And I don't want either Liz or Kate to know that we talked about this. I mean that, Joe,” he said fervently on their second gin. Clarke was beginning to feel tight, and Joe was grinning a lot. He always got expansive when he drank. It took some of the pressure off him.

“So what's the dark mystery?” Joe asked with a boyish smile. He was growing ever more fond of Clarke, and always had been. He thought he was a good man. They respected each other and had from the first.

“I'm not her father, Joe,” Clarke said quietly, suddenly sober again. He had never in thirteen years said those words. And as he looked at Joe, the younger man's smile faded as their eyes met.

“What does that mean? It doesn't make sense.” He looked worried now. He could sense something ugly lurking near.

“Liz was married before. For a long time. Nearly thirty years. We've only been married for fourteen. Feels like forever though at times,” he said with a grin and Joe laughed. But he also knew how much Clarke loved Liz. He had to, to put up with her. “Her husband was a friend of mine, he was a good man, gentle, kind, from a great family. His brother and I went to school together, which was how I met John. He lost everything in the crash of'29, not only his own and his family's, but all of the money of the people whose investments he handled, and some of Liz's fortune as well. Fortunately, her own family had kept a tight rein on most of hers, and they were luckier than John. Most of her money was intact after the crash. But John lost it all.” It was a story Clarke didn't want to tell, and Joe was suddenly afraid to hear. “It damn near killed him at the time. He was the most honorable man I knew, and it destroyed him on the spot. It took him two years, locked in a bedroom upstairs, sitting in the dark. He tried to drink himself to death, but it didn't work. So he shot himself in ‘31. Kate was eight when he died.”

“Was she there? Did she see him do it?” Joe looked horrified at the image Clarke had conjured for him, but the older man shook his head.

“No, thank God. Liz found him. I think Kate was in school. It was all over by the time she got home. But she knew how he died. I had known Liz and John and Kate for years and years, all of Kate's life, and most of John's. I did what I could for them afterward, with no other motive, I might add, except to lend a hand. Liz was in shock. I had lost my own wife several years before. Eventually things developed between Liz and myself, but I think I fell in love with Kate even before I fell in love with Liz. She was a terrified, heartbroken little girl after her father died. I never thought she'd be the same again. She was eight then. I married Liz a year later, and adopted Kate a year after that, when she was ten. It took me another two years to bring her back from the cave she'd been hiding in since John killed himself. I don't think she really trusted me, or anyone else, for years, particularly men. And Liz adored the child, but I'm not sure she really knew how to reach out to her, she was too shocked by his death herself. There was a terrible moment when Liz got sick right after we got married. It was nothing more than a bad case of influenza. But you could see Kate panic. She was terrified to lose her mother. I'm not sure Liz really understood it. It's taken Kate her entire life to become the woman she is now. Strong, confident, happy, funny, capable. The woman you love was a terrified, broken little girl for a long time. I think for years she was afraid that I would abandon her in some way too, like her father. Poor bastard, he couldn't help himself. He didn't have the stamina to survive what happened to him, no matter how much money Liz had. It destroyed all his self-respect, his manhood, his pride. But when he killed himself, he destroyed Kate, or damn near.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Joe asked suspiciously, still looking shocked by what he'd heard.

“Because it's an important part of Kate. She loved her father and he adored her. And then she came to love me. And now you. You went off to the war and she thought you were dead for nearly two years. It would have been a tragedy for any girl, but it was more than that for Kate. It opened all her old wounds again, I could see it in her eyes every day. It was a kind of loss that could have destroyed her this time, if she weren't as strong as she is. And then, miraculously, you came back from the dead. Life was kind to her this time. But there's a broken piece in her that you need to see, if you're going to love her. Every time you leave her, or reject her, or make her feel abandoned in some way, you remind her of everything she's ever lost. She's like a wounded doe, you need to be gentle with her, and give her a good home. If you're kind to her, she'll be good to you forever, Joe. But you need to know about that broken piece. She's like a bird with a broken wing, no matter how well you think she can fly. You have to be gentle with that wing…. She's the most beautiful little bird I've ever seen, and she'll fly farther than anyone for you. Just don't frighten her, and you won't, if you know what she's been through.” Joe sat in silence for a long time, pondering Clarke's words. It was a heavy dose of reality to be sharing on a summer day over a couple of gins. But he was right, it was an important piece of Kate, and it explained a lot to him. There was a sense of panic about her when he was away from her. She never expressed it openly, but when he left her to go somewhere, he could always see it in her eyes. And that look of terror had frightened him at times. It was like the shadow of the leash he had fled from all his life.

“What are you saying to me, Clarke?” Joe asked, but more important, he was wondering why.

“I think you should marry her, Joe. Not for the reasons Liz wants for her. She wants pomp and circumstance and respectability, a big party and a white dress. I want to know she's got a good home. She deserves it, Joe, more than most. Her father took something from her that none of us will ever be able to give back. But you can, not entirely, but enough to make a difference for the rest of her life. I want her to feel safe and to have the comfort of knowing you're going to stick around.”

Listening to him made Joe want to scream “what about me?” Marrying her was exactly what he feared most. A leash. A cage. A trap. No matter how much he loved her, and he did, the marriage itself was an enormous threat to him. More than Clarke could ever suspect.

“I'm not sure I can,” Joe said honestly, with the assistance of the gin.

“Why not?”

“It feels like a trap. Or a noose around my neck. My parents deserted me in a different way. They died and left me to people who hated me. They were rotten to me, and whenever I think of marriage, or families, or getting tied down, it just makes me want to run.”

“She'll be good to you, Joe. I know her well. She's a good girl, and she loves you more than life.”

“That scares me too,” he said honestly, “I don't want to be loved that much.” Clarke watched his eyes and saw fear peering out at him. A deeper fear than he'd ever seen there before. “I'm not sure that I can give her the love she needs and wants. I don't want to disappoint her, Clarke, or let her down. I couldn't stand the guilt if I failed somehow. I love her too much to do that to her.”