Her Military Man

Chapter Three

“Mom?” Lindsay asked, clutching Toby, her favorite rabbit, to her chest. “What’s up?”

“Nothing too exciting,” Constance said, looking up from the dismal family budget with a forced smile. In dusk’s gloom, she sat at the rolltop desk in the living room’s southwest corner, fingering the simple gold chain she always wore. Her stepfather used to sit there paying bills, as had her grandfather. Everything had worked out fine then, and it would now, too. By sheer will, if need be.

“Then how come you look so bummed?”

“Just my allergies,” Constance said, pushing back the rickety, straight-backed wood chair with its cracked black leather seat. “You know how I get this time of year.”

“Yeah,” Lindsay said, perching on the edge of the lumpy blue floral sofa. While scratching behind the rabbit’s floppy ears, she touched her chin to the top of his soft head. “I know.”

“You get your current events report finished?”

“Uh-huh. I found this cool story on a girl shark who swam from Australia to South Africa.”

“Sounds cool.” Constance closed the spiral notebook she used to keep track of finances—or rather, their lack thereof.

“Yeah, it is. You gonna come hear me give my speech? Miss Calloway said ’cause it’s spring open house, there’s gonna be cookies and stuff. And the big kids are having special speakers visit to talk about jobs. Kelly’s dad owns the video store. She said he’s handing out free movie coupons.”

“That’s nice of him.”

“Oh—and before I forget, Mrs. Conklin sent you some paper on a play we’re doing for the end of school program. I have to learn my lines and you have to help.”

“What’s the play?”

“Red Riding in the Hood—it’s supposed to teach us not to use drugs and stuff.”

“Sounds good.”

To get the budget further out of her mind, Constance shoved the notebook into a desk drawer, only she must’ve slammed it too hard as the wobbly knob they’d tried supergluing fell off in her hand.

Lindsay burst out laughing.

“Think that’s funny, do you?” Constance leaped up from the desk chair to push her daughter back on the sofa and tickle her good.

“Stop!” Lindsay shrieked, giggling and snorting and tickling Constance right back. “You’re gonna make me pee!”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing you—”

A knock sounded on the screen door, then an all-too-familiar male voice asked, “This a private party, or can anyone join in?”

Constance froze. Closed her eyes and struggled for breath.

“Mom?” Lindsay asked. “Everything okay? Who is that?”

“No one special,” Constance said, back on her feet and tidying her hair.

Just your father.

“What’re you doing here?” Constance asked, opening the screen door only wide enough to poke her head through, hopefully making it clear that Garret wasn’t welcome.

“Truth?” he said with a shake of his head. “I’m not sure. Guess I felt like we need to finish our talk.”

“What talk?” Constance asked, glancing over her shoulder to check where Lindsay might be lurking. To her horror, her daughter stood about three feet behind her.

“Hi,” Lindsay said to their unwanted guest. “Do I know you?”

“No!” Constance said after a gasp, pushing open the door, storming out, then slamming it behind her. Only, since it was a fairly puny antique wood door, she didn’t get much bang for her buck.

“You must be Lindsay,” he said, leaning heavily on the nearest rickety wicker chair, glancing around Connie to wave at her daughter through the screen. “I heard about your rabbits.”

“I like ’em lots,” Lindsay said, pushing at the door so hard in her attempt to get out that the screen’s trim dug into Constance’s back.

Lips pressed, Constance crossed her arms and stared off at the neighbor’s pasture. When she was a kid, all the land for as far as she could see had belonged to her parents. But over the years, tough times had forced her to sell off more and more until now all that remained was the three-acre parcel the house and barn sat on.

She’d been an only child. Her parents now lived in a Galveston, Texas, retirement home where she and Lindsay visited as often as they could. But with gas prices so steep, and her car hardly reliable, it’d been six months since they’d last made the trip.

Taking a deep breath, she told her heart to resume its normally peaceful rate. Until she worked up the courage to tell Garret the truth about Lindsay’s parentage, her secret would be secure.

But just to be on the safe side, while he and Lindsay rambled on about rabbits, Connie blurted, “We’re busy. Now, just isn’t a good time to…talk.”

Meeting her challenging stare head-on, he said, “I need a few simple questions answered. Promise, it won’t take but a few minutes of your precious time.”

“Wanna see my rabbit house?” Lindsay asked.

“No,” Constance said for him. “Mr. Underwood’s busy, too.”

“Ouch.” Apparently unfazed by her cool demeanor, he shot her a slow, sexy grin, then surveyed the front porch so different from his mother’s. While they’d both grown up in the quintessential white farmhouse, his mother’s had fared better. Constance’s home was more brown-speckled than white, seeing how more bare wood showed than paint. Flower boxes under the windows used to hold cheery geraniums, but now all they held was cracked dirt.

Weeds choked the once-thriving flower gardens on either side of the winding fieldstone walk. On her own, always working or helping Lindsay with her studies, Constance barely had time to keep the veggie garden going; no way did she have the luxury of planting and constantly watering flowers.

“Looks like this place could use some TLC,” Garret said. The place looked as if it hadn’t seen fresh paint in the decade since Garret had left, and the approach up the dirt drive showed the roof to be in even sorrier shape. A couple of forest-green shutters had gone missing, as well.

“I guess,” Constance said.

Lindsay wandered out the door. “Want to hold Toby?”

“Love to,” Garret said, gently taking the creature from the girl. Favoring his still-healing leg, he held the rabbit close for inspection. Garret twitched his nose right along with the little guy.

Lindsay said, “Be careful not to touch his face. That makes him grumpy.”

“Thanks for the advice. Last thing I need is a rabbit bite to go along with my bum leg.”

“What’s wrong with your leg? It looks fine.”

“I know, but it broke. Doctors had to put a steel pin in it to hold the pieces together. Until I get the all clear from my doctor, I’m supposed to be careful.”

“A steel pin?” The blue-eyed, dark-pigtailed girl grimaced, looking to her scuffed sneakers. “Yech.”

“Tell me about it,” he said with a laugh, surprised by how natural it seemed to be getting along with a child whose very existence had caused him countless hours’ grief. How many nights had he lain awake, wondering what Connie and Nathan’s baby looked like? Their little girl? The girl who, timewise, could’ve just as easily been his? Swallowing the knot in his throat forming over a broken past that could never be fixed, he vowed that before returning to Virginia, he would resolve his feelings for the girl’s mama. He’d thought himself over Connie, but judging by the simmering emotions he’d managed to hold in check since the day he’d foolishly called into her show, he was no more over their breakup than his love for any and all ice cream.

“Is that steel gonna be in you, like, forever?”

“’Fraid so,” Garret said with a slight frown before handing Lindsay her pet. He just hoped that was the end of it. His physical therapist and doctor both assured him his break was healing well, but if it didn’t, the issue of his returning to active duty as he’d known it was up for debate. In the meantime, Garret worked out as best he could and mostly ate right, determined not to let a broken leg diminish his physical edge.

“Does it hurt?” she asked, “having all that metal in you?”

He laughed. “Sometimes, but—”

“Lindsay,” Constance snapped, “shouldn’t you get to work on your report?”

“Do I have to?” the girl whined.

“Yes,” Constance said, hating to be a nag, but figuring the less time she spent with Garret the better. Having him here was dangerous on too many levels. It wasn’t that she didn’t think he’d make a great dad, just that she was afraid. She didn’t have a clue how he felt about kids. What if he’d always wanted one, and upon discovering the truth about Lindsay, he swooped in and took her off to some foreign locale, never to be seen again?

When Lindsay tugged the screechy old screen door open, then trudged up creaky stairs to her room, Constance finally felt able to breathe.

“She’s a great kid,” Garret said. “You’re lucky.”

“Thanks,” Constance said, arms crossed, wishing he would just leave.

“Look, I have to ask. You seem short on money. Is Nathan not giving you any child support?”

Glaring at him, she asked, “What is it you don’t get about the fact that Lindsay and I are fine on our own? The only help we need from anyone would be you agreeing to guest star a couple times on my show.”

“And I already told you no.”

“Why? Because you’re too busy calling in to the show for the sole purpose of thrashing me?” She laughed, only the strangled sound came out more desperate than merry. “Tell me, Garret, how you can come all the way over here with a broken leg to drill me about my financial situation when you alone hold the key to me keeping my job? Only you refuse to use it?”

“My reasons for not helping you in that regard are complicated.” A muscle erratically popped on his jaw. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Just as she didn’t understand how all those years ago she’d found the courage to let him go? Yeah, complicated she understood. Just plain mean, she didn’t. And it was meanness keeping Garret from doing her show.

And it wasn’t mean to have kept Lindsay from him?

Ignoring her conscience, careful to keep her voice low to guard from prying, ten-year-old ears, Constance said, “Since you apparently refuse to leave, please—” she gestured toward the relic of a porch swing “—feel free to have a seat, then explain why you can’t help me out with this one, simple thing.”

Rolling his eyes, he straightened, then eased backward, leaning on the porch rail. “You’re being melodramatic. Your job’s not really in danger. From what I gather, everyone in town loves you.”

“Yeah, everyone except my boss. What’s wrong with you?” she hissed. “What’s happened in the past decade? Because the boy I used to know would never turn down a single mom in need.”

“For one thing,” he said, eyeing her with a stare so intense she felt powerless to look anywhere but at him, “I’m a man now, sugar, and I don’t take crap from anyone. And what you did to me, the way you treated me, that was crap. Now you expect me to just roll over and forget it ever happened?”

“If you feel so strongly about it, then why are you even here? Why do you care what Nathan does?”

He laughed. “It’s your daughter I’m thinking about—not you. Because truthfully, don’t flatter yourself by thinking I want to hash things out with you for old time’s sake, it’s more about—” He looked sharply away, then limped off the porch. “Hell, it’s none of your business.”

“Garret?”

He didn’t turn back, just climbed into his mom’s beige Caddie and drove away.

Why was he doing this? What could he possibly want to prove? That he was better than her? Done.

Yes, as an adult instead of a scared seventeen-year-old, she realized she’d been wrong for having hidden Lindsay from him all these years, but she’d done it for his own good. Because of what she’d done, Garret had been able to go off and accomplish every one of his dreams, while she’d stayed in Mule Shoe raising a daughter on mostly minimum wage. Like his, her life was a constant battle, only in a far different arena.

But that constant struggle had made her strong. If Garret refused to help her, then fine. She’d darn well help herself.

If that meant giving up her beloved radio job because he refused to help, then what else could she do? Since office space at the station was limited, she did most of her preshow prep work at home, but instead of dreaming up new show ideas come Monday morning, it looked as if she’d be looking for a new job instead.

“FANCY MEETING YOU HERE,” Constance’s worst nightmare said bright and early Monday morning.

She looked up from Pearlman’s Office Supply store’s back table, the one beside the two copy machines where customers laid out their projects. At the moment, her only project was a nearly complete job application. “Are you following me?”

He snorted. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just here picking up flyers for my school presentation. What’re you doing?”

She hastily covered her application. “Work for the show.”

“Top secret, huh?” The smile he shot her was so crazy handsome and brimming with white teeth, her stomach lurched. The years he’d been gone, she’d told herself no man could be as steal-your-breath gorgeous as her memories had built him up to be, but she’d been wrong. In reality, he was far better than anything she could’ve imagined. He wore cargo-style pants again, but this time sand-toned, with a matching T-shirt that fit his muscular chest like a second skin.

“Not secret,” she said, “I just don’t like discussing show material before it’s fully developed.”

“Sure,” he said with a nod and dead-sexy wink. “Might give rogue callers like me a shot at taking your hoity-toity butt down a notch right off the bat, huh?”

Despite herself, she grinned. “I might’ve phrased it more eloquently, but yes, that’s the general idea.”

“I can respect that. Well, hey,” he said, gesturing toward the checkout counter. “I’ve got everything I need. Catch you later.”

“Constance, hon…” Evelyn Pearlman, the store owner, bustled out of the storage area with a case of individual plastic-wrapped boxes of paper clips. “I hope you haven’t gotten too far on that application because I just got off the phone with my sister, Marty, and she said her grandson, Lyle, could really use the job. I hope you don’t mind, you know, seeing how you’ve been here at least thirty minutes working so hard on filling it out.”

“No,” Constance said, lying through her teeth while swallowing the knot at the back of her throat. “I don’t mind at all. Lyle’s a good kid. I’m sure he’ll make a great asset to your team.”

“You’re a dear for being so understanding.” Evelyn crushed her in a quick hug. “And you know, now that I think about it, I heard at the Chamber of Commerce breakfast that they’re hiring down at the IGA, but it sure will be a shame not getting to hear your show. I can’t imagine what Felix must be thinking.”

“Yes, well, you know how it goes,” Constance said, forcing a brave smile, daring Garret to say a word about her blatant lie as to what she’d been doing in the store.

“Well, good luck to you, dear. Hope everything works out okay. And you,” she said to Garret, “come right this way and I’ll add up all your things.”

While the middle-aged woman bustled on ahead, Constance was less than thrilled when Garret lagged behind while she gathered up her purse, résumé, pens and Liquid Paper. She was nothing if not always prepared.

“Why’d you tell me you were in here working on your show?” Garret asked.

“Does it matter?”

“Your boss isn’t really going to fire you, is he? From what I understand, your listeners love you.”

“If he weren’t, do you honestly think I’d’ve come running to you for help? Or that I’d spend my morning filling out job applications?”

“Garret, hon!” Evelyn sang out. “Your order’s all ready!”

“Look, Connie,” he said under his breath, “maybe we should—”

“I’ve got to go,” she said, not taking the chance of meeting his gaze for fear of bursting into tears. “You heard Evelyn, IGA’s hiring.”

GARRET KNEW he shouldn’t be lurking in the canned goods aisle, waiting for Constance to bolt from the IGA breakroom where she was filling out her latest application, but for some strange reason, he couldn’t help himself.

He was still furious with her and Nathan, but he wanted to get a few straight answers from her about a lot of things before never seeing her again. But that was it, right?

Surely it had nothing to do with her looking so hot in her prim and proper black interview dress? Or that uptight knot she’d made of her hair that ignited all sorts of ideas about how fun it would be taking it down, seeing it streaming over her—

“Garret?” she asked, pretty lips puckered as she rounded the corner of an end cap piled with watermelon. Hands on her hips, she said, “Now, I know you’re following me.”

“Guilty,” he said, “but I wanted to know how it went.”

“Why?” she asked, chin up, marching right past him toward the store’s front. “So you could further rub it in that I’m teetering on the brink of unemployment?”

Why? Good question. He shouldn’t care if she lost her old job or found a new one. He shouldn’t care, but he did. No doubt because he wanted her head in a good place when he finally sat her down to demand an explanation for the past.

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