Troubled Waters by Rachelle McCalla Page B

expectantly over her folded hands.
    Heath slowly lowered himself into his chair, frantically trying to think, his usually astute mind blank. The only table blessing he could think of was his goofy uncle’s good bread, good meat, good God, let’s eat. He was pretty sure Tracie wouldn’t appreciate that one. He felt equally certain that any attempt he might make at an impromptu prayer would quickly give away how long it had been since he’d talked to God. “I, um—” he started, folding his hands, pulling them apart, folding them again.
    “It’s okay.” She placed a calm hand over his nervous fingers. “I can bless it.”
    They both bowed their heads, and Tracie said a few simple lines of thanks.
    At her amen, he looked up, about to apologize again.
    Tracie beat him to it. “Sorry to put you on the spot like that.”
    “No, it’s okay,” he assured her. “I just wasn’t really thinking along those lines.” They hadn’t bothered to bless their pizza the night before, but he should have realized that by now Tracie was comfortable enough around him to share the more intimate things in her life—like her relationship with God. Jonas’s plan assumed she’d open up to him once he got close to her. The fact that she’d openlyprayed with him was just another indication of how close the two of them were becoming.
    “Mmm, chicken,” Tracie smiled up at him as she selected a piece for herself. “Thanks so much for supper.”
    “No problem. We needed some comfort food after the day we’ve had.” He took a piece for himself and watched Tracie drizzle honey on a biscuit. There was so much information he still needed to learn from her, but getting her to talk would be a delicate process. She’d already told him so much. If he made her suspicious he might not learn anything, and that wouldn’t help either one of them. More than anything, he wished she’d reveal something that would prove her innocence, so he could convince Jonas to let him tell her his true identity.
    But coming right out and asking her would no doubt backfire completely. Heath thought back to the psychology class he’d taken years before, recalling the innate way people internally kept track of how much they’d shared about themselves. People tended to try to keep their self-revelation interpersonally fair, if only on a subconscious level. Which meant if Heath expected Tracie to share any more of her life, he needed to share a little of his. “Fried chicken reminds me of Sunday dinners at my grandparents’ house,” he offered, taking a bite of biscuit and watching her expectantly.
    Tracie smiled at him and silently munched her chicken.
    Perhaps he’d need to share a little more than that before she opened up. “We used to go over to my grandparents’ every Sunday after church.” If nothing else, Heath at least hoped to win some points by mentioning church.
    “Do you see your family often?” Tracie asked.
    Her question required some thought. Heath didn’t mind talking about things from his distant childhood, but hedidn’t want to reveal too much about his recent life, which didn’t match the story she’d been told. He couldn’t afford to blow his cover until he was certain she wasn’t involved with the diamond smugglers. “Since I joined the military I tend to see them once a year,” Heath confessed. He’d joined the Navy SEALs right out of college. Tracie knew that much. From there he’d gone on to the FBI, but his cover said he’d transferred to the Coast Guard. “It’s difficult to make it home.”
    “How many years has that been?”
    He did the math quickly in his head. “Twelve.”
    Concern filled her features. “Don’t you miss them?”
    “Sometimes,” Heath warred against his instinctive wish for privacy that made him want to change the subject, to hide his true feelings. He knew he needed to share part of himself with Tracie before he could expect her to tell him more of her story. She’d told him about