CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER 9

Claire Matthews entered through the front entrance, her arms full of grocery bags. "Caleb? Julia? We're back!" she said in a cheerful, sing-song voice.

Robert followed closely behind, expertly shouldering the larger paper sacks from the car while flashing his wife a loving grin. "The conquering heroes return from a hard day's hunter-gathering," he said with a laugh.

Robert noticed movement in the living room and raised his brow in astonishment as Caleb came into view, trailed by Julia. "Well, what is this? "Son, shouldn't you be at basketball practice?"

There was no reproach in his tone, only quiet inquiry. Robert took satisfaction in being involved in his children's lives, especially because Claire's high-pressure career kept her away from home more than they preferred.

Caleb shrugged, his casual lean highlighted by the broad, muscular shape that always gave Robert a quiet sense of masculine pride. "Hi, Dad. Coach canceled today's class, saying, "We've been pushing ourselves too hard lately and could use a little rest."

Claire walked into the kitchen, depositing her armload of groceries on the counter, causing a rustle of plastic bags. "I swear, that guy works you boys to the bone! "You're just a group of teenagers, not professional athletes."

Caleb smirked as he exchanged delighted looks with his father. "You know how coaches are, Mom." We have to stay on top of each other so that the State can continue its winning streak.

"Your mother has a point, champ," Robert murmured, putting down his load and circling the kitchen island to offer Claire's shoulder an affectionate squeeze. "Don't want you burning out before we get a chance to see you play in the Championships."

His chest swelled with undisguised father pride, and a warm sensation of pleasure bloomed as he noticed Caleb's expression brighten somewhat in response to the praise and encouragement. Despite his son's brazen confidence and massive physique, Robert knew that a few well-placed words of approbation could make the gruff, hyper-masculine façade sweetly childlike.

The little Sixteen-year-old wedged herself between her brother and parents, craning her neck to smile cheekily up at Caleb. "Why don't you two just kiss already and save us the gag-worthy mushiness?"

Caleb snorted, dropping his massive hand to roughly caress Julia's wild locks. "You're just jealous that I'm the favorite kid, pipsqueak."

Julia squawked in outrage, shoving her brother's arm halfheartedly as the good-natured sibling banter disintegrated into a flurry of laughing tussling. Robert, watching their antics with unrestrained warmth, placed an arm around his wife's slim waist and kissed her smiling lips tenderly.

"You did good, babe," he murmured, bringing their foreheads together as love creases formed at the corners of his eyes. "You did real good with these kids."

At that point, the tumultuous sounds of their hyperactive children's horseplay subsided into a beautiful background hum - the reassuring cadence of a happy, loving family celebrating each other's presence. A simple scene, perhaps, but one that Robert and Claire had worked painstakingly to cultivate despite virtually insurmountable difficulties.

And seeing his beautiful wife's peaceful smile as they basked in their hard-earned benefits, Robert knew without a doubt that all the effort had been worthwhile. This was their normal - chaotic, imperfect, but filled with more love and acceptance than most people could ever hope for.

Caleb exhaled slowly as he is finally letting the strain drain from his shoulders. In the aftermath of his and Yuria's encounter earlier, he was intensely aware of every creak and groan in the house, his nerves tingling with the prospect of being caught bare-assed at any minute.

Fortunately, he had just enough notice of their return to conceal any damning evidence and get his stuff together before Julia's screaming voice broke the silence. A touch too close for comfort, but another near miss was skillfully negotiated anyway.

The tantalizing aromas of Claire's cooking floated in from the kitchen, temporarily distracting Caleb from his persistent uneasiness. His stomach rumbled in satisfaction as hints of garlic, oregano, and sizzling tomato sauce teased his senses. Mom appears to have been preparing her renowned chicken parmesan for dinner tonight, which has long been a favorite of his.

Despite the delectable fragrances saturating the home, Caleb did not feel compelled to join the women just yet. It would be better to stay away for a while and give himself some time to collect his thoughts before confronting their inspection. His mother had always been freakishly sensitive, able to tell if her baby boy was upset or hiding something from a mile away.

Instead, Caleb grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat on the old sofa, absently scrolling through channels until he came across a random action movie repeat. Situating himself with his feet kicked up on the scarred coffee table, he finally allowed his body to fully relax, relishing the mindless distraction of the leisurely day.

Claire hummed an idle tune under her breath as she moved around the cramped kitchen with the ease of routine. Julia sat on a worn stool at the island, shredding a block of mozzarella into a pile of stringy strips as her mother instructed.

"You know, you could try being helpful instead of staring off into space," Claire scolded gently, pressing her hip lightly against her daughter's side. "This would go a lot quicker if you pitched in more."

Julia let out a dramatic sigh of frustration before turning her attention back to the cheese with renewed zeal. "This is, like, the most boring job ever though," she said with a groan. "Can't I just go lay on the couch and wait for the food to be ready?"

"And what would you do for me then, hmm?" Claire raised one flawlessly manicured brow in a teasing challenge. "Lounge around while your poor old mother slaved away single-handedly over a hot stove?"

She emphasized the mocking lament by putting one palm across her forehead in a salivating, damsel-in-distress position, which made Julia laugh despite herself. Claire's plump lips curved into a triumphant smirk; having raised two children, she understood the importance of keeping them interested and entertained to avoid the inevitable boredom nagging.

"Oh no, what shall I do if my daughter abandons me to labor and starvation?" she said in mock despair, even grabbing a wooden spoon and swiping it across her brow to mimic rubbing away strained tears.

Julia snorted and rolled her eyes at her mother's overblown exaggeration. "You're such a Lazy Girl," she said with no ill will, carefully picking up the shredded mound of cheese and transferring it to the huge dish resting near the simmering sauce.

Claire smirked unrepentantly, scooping up a pinch of grated mozzarella and popping it into her lips with a satisfied hum. "Maybe so, but you love me anyway."

In the pause that followed, they shared an unsaid tenderness, a warmth and effortless affection born of a thousand similar times throughout Julia's life. Mother and daughter bonded through the simplest of acts and the tightest of embraces.

The enchantment was finally broken when Claire awakened herself and removed the sizzling pan of chicken from the hob to prepare for baking. On the verge of summoning Caleb to arrange the table, she halted, thoughtful features breaking into a naughty grin.

"Why don't we let your layabout big brother enjoy a taste of that inevitable drudgery for once," she said conspiratorially, winking at Julia's delighted grin in response. "I get a hunch he's finally settled down from all his extracurricular activities this afternoon.”

She emphasized the latter phrase with a slight arch of one brow, indicating that she was aware of the subtle insinuation. Claire refrained from making any overt acknowledgments out of respect for her son's privacy and limits, but she was still able to pick up on context signals. Like a teen kid missing his Friday afternoon basketball session and returning home two hours later looking disheveled.

Julia crinkled her nose in displeasure at her mother's implication. "Ew, icky, Mom! I don't want to think about it! Especially when I might be devouring your delectable chicken parmesan in fifteen minutes."

Claire let out a raucous laugh, affectionately mussing her daughter's curls. Mothers had to find ways to amuse themselves, even if it meant engaging in some harmless mocking at the cost of their teenagers.

Just another day in the life of the perfectly regular Matthews family.