The Sergeant's Unexpected Family

by Carrie Nichols

  “Mary?”

  “Sorry. What do we have to do other than feed her?”

  “Most important is to keep her warm and dry. Keeping her in here for a while will help with that.”

  She looked around at the empty barn. “Didn’t you say you had another cow?”

  “Yeah, she’s in the pasture, but we’ll keep this one sequestered until the vet can come and make sure she doesn’t have anything that might infect Gertie.”

  “Is that a possibility?”

  “Not a big one, but I’d rather not take that chance.” He patted the calf’s back and went to the hay bales stacked in one corner. With a grunt he lifted one, his biceps straining the fabric of his T-shirt. He carried the hay to the stall, let it drop to his feet in a shower of dust and wiped his face on his sleeve. No wonder he was so hard and lean. He used a knife from his pocket to slice the twine holding the bale together, then a pitchfork to spread the hay in the stall.

  “Is she going to eat that?” She pointed to the hay.

  “No, but it keeps the stall drier and makes cleanup easier.”

  Mary rubbed the calf’s neck. She’d never been this close to a cow before, and she enjoyed the opportunity to interact. “I don’t understand how her mother could reject her.”

  Brody grunted as he threw down another hay bale. “Sometimes it’s just Mother Nature going a little haywire, or maybe the mama suspects something is wrong so she rejects the calf. Take it from me, not all mothers love unconditionally.”

  “But...” Mary shook her head. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t experienced it herself. Her mother hadn’t rejected her, but she’d made no provisions for her daughter in case of her death, so Mary had ended up in foster care. Even the line for “father” on her birth certificate had been left blank. She vowed to do better by Elliott. That’s why she was here, setting aside her pride by letting Brody know Roger had rejected not only her but Elliott, as well.

  Brody glanced over at her. “But what?”

  “Nothing.” How could she explain her feelings if Brody didn’t believe in unconditional love? What if coming here had been nothing but a waste of time?

  She rubbed her arms. Planning her work and working her plan wasn’t...well...working. She swallowed her disappointment and smiled as she had done countless times, when all she wanted to do was cry and shout. Life wasn’t fair. Yeah, she got it, so why did she keep thinking that it was?

  Chapter Four

  “Does this happen often?” Mary asked as she got the hang of feeding the calf. The whole process was sloppy but satisfying.

  He glanced up from spreading hay. “People bringing unwanted animals?”

  She blew her bangs off her forehead. The man was nothing if not frustrating. “I was going to say people turning to you for help.”

  “Is that what you call this?” He scowled.

  “Yes, I think that farmer demonstrated a lot of trust in you.” And she was doing it, too—coming to Vermont to track him down so he could meet Elliott.

  He grunted and went back to his task.

  As the cow suckled on the bottle, Mary recalled the biological kids in her first foster home talking about summer vacations spent on their grandparents’ farm. That memory had stayed with her because—despite never having set foot on a farm—she’d come up with an elaborate essay for a school assignment several years later, rather than admit she’d spent the summer hiding out at the local library, day after day, in order to get away from one of the boys in the home who’d picked on her. To this day her gut burned when she thought about writing that paper, not because she’d resorted to stealing someone else’s summer to write about, but because she’d resented her absent mother with every poached word of that stupid how-I-spent-my-summer-vacation essay.

  Even now it distressed her how she could relive that shame but had trouble recalling memories of her mother. What her mother had looked like, smelled like or the sound of her voice...all lost. What did that say about her? Well, she wasn’t going to let that happen to Elliott. She’d get to know these people at Loon Lake, and if something happened to her, they’d be able to help Elliott retain his memories. And maybe someday she’d even build a summer camp for kids in similar situations she’d been in as a child. Give them something special, a memory uniquely theirs, something no one could ever take away. They could carry that with them even if they were bounced from place to place.

  Brody set the pitchfork aside and patted the calf’s broad back. “I’m going to give her some shots.”

  “Shots? Why?” Mary’s stomach knotted. The calf was so young—was that safe?

  “Some antibiotics and vitamins. Preventative measures.” He pulled out a first-aid kit.

  “See?” Relieved, she balanced on her toes. “I knew you’d know what to do.”

  He readied the hypodermics. “Knowing what to do isn’t the problem. It’s whether it all works.”

  “Even if the worst happens, we’ll know you did your best.” Did he think she’d hold him responsible?

  He had a furrow between his eyebrows as he studied her. “Will we?”

  “Yes, of course.” She hoped her smile would reassure him.

  “You have an awful lot of confidence in me.” He tugged on his ear. “Why?”

  Why was he arguing with her? Did he think she was lying? “It’s a choice I’m making.”

  “Choice? What kind of choice?”

  “I choose to believe in you.” She could think the worst, spend her time worrying, but as Aunt Betty used to preach, time spent worrying was time wasted, time you couldn’t get back. Now, child, wouldn’t you rather spend the time God gives you being happy? Wouldn’t you rather be remembered for spreading joy around? Aunt Betty had made Mary happy, and she hated to disrespect that memory by not following the other woman’s example with Elliott.

  “I’ll tell you what I told that farmer—I’m not a veterinarian. Her rump’s a large target, but hold her steady just in case.”

  She wrapped her arms around the calf’s neck while he injected the needle. “See? Getting a shot isn’t so bad. I’m not talking about your abilities, I’m talking about your dedication to doing your best and taking in animals. I suppose most wouldn’t do that.”

  “You talking to me or the calf?”

  “Both. I believe this calf wants to survive and you want to do your best to see that happen.”

  “You barely know me,” he scoffed, shaking his head.

  “I know enough.” When he frowned, she explained, “I remember how patient you were at the funeral with a woman who had no short-term memory—she told you the same story five times.”

  “No wonder Roger saw you coming from a mile away,” he muttered. Stalking over to a plastic tub, he tossed the used needles into it.

  She stepped away from the calf, ground her teeth and counted to ten. “For your information, Brody Wilson, I am an adult and I was an adult the whole time I was with Roger. Yes, in hindsight, I may have made some unfortunate choices, but I wasn’t some naive waif ripe for the picking. Yes, I fell for his charm, but should I let that turn me bitter? What kind of example would I be teaching Elliott?”

  He whirled around toward her. “I meant—”

  “I know what you meant, and it’s insulting.” She tried to swallow a lump in her throat, but it wouldn’t go away. Brody might be right about Roger taking advantage, but she didn’t go into anything blindfolded. Sure, maybe she should have suspected something, seen through Roger’s veneer, but hindsight was twenty-twenty, so she’d forgiven herself. Another choice. To have Brody think she was some child angered her. She blamed her bedraggled appearance in the ER for his opinion. She never should’ve told anyone about Brody being Elliott’s uncle until she’d recovered and could present herself from a more powerful and composed position. Instead she’d been wearing borrowed clothes and looking like someone who need
ed rescuing. “I can’t regret something that gave me Elliott.”

  “But Roger should...he should’ve...” He shoved his hand in his hair.

  “Yes, he should have,” she agreed. “But there are never guarantees. Guarantees come with car batteries, not relationships. Not everyone gets a happy ending handed to them, so I’ve decided I need to make my own...for myself and for Elliott.”

  Tough talk, and yet it still hurt to have her baby’s father reject him. She and Roger had already gone their separate ways when she learned she was pregnant. When she’d gone to him with the news, she had thought they could come to a cordial agreement, perhaps with visitation rights. But Roger had totally rejected the idea of fatherhood. He went so far as to suggest “dealing with the problem,” which she had no intention of doing.

  Considering her background, her optimism was silly, childish even, but as she’d said, it was a choice, one she made every day to honor someone who may have been in her life for a brief time, but who’d comforted her when she needed it: the one foster mother who’d come to a school recital. She wanted for Elliott what Aunt Betty had wanted for her, to see and appreciate the wonders of life. If that made her seem naive, then so be it.

  Blinking to clear her vision, she stomped toward the office, but Brody’s hand on her shoulder stopped her.

  He turned her to face him, his blue eyes stormy as he scanned her face. Throwing the toothpick onto the floor, he said, “I’m an ass.”

  And just like that, her anger melted away. He continued to study her as if he’d expected something else from her. “What? You were expecting an argument?”

  “You could put up a fight.” He held up his thumb and forefinger a short distance apart and gave her a devilish grin. “A small one?”

  She rolled her lips in to keep a smile from springing out. Sure, her anger had evaporated, but she wasn’t giving him carte blanche to trample over her feelings. “If I thought you deserved one, I would.”

  “Ouch.” Their gazes met and held. He ran a finger down her cheek. “I’m sorry... Roger...he... I...”

  “You’re not responsible for his actions. Why would you feel as though you were? You’ve been nothing but helpful and welcoming.” His light touch made it difficult to keep track of their conversation.

  “Our family...the dynamics are...” He sighed and studied a spot over her shoulder. “Complicated.”

  She could understand that he might have felt conflicted over his father having another child. “Because you and Roger are half brothers? Your father wasn’t the first man to have an extramarital affair.”

  He stepped back and tugged on his ear. “I wish it were that simple. How much did Roger tell you?”

  “Not much...he said he had a half brother, but that you isolated yourself from the family.” Roger had made it sound as if Brody felt superior to his brother, but now she was beginning to realize, as she went over past conversations, that Roger’s attitude could’ve stemmed from jealousy.

  “Did he tell you the circumstances?” A muscle ticked in his jaw.

  “He told me his father wasn’t married to his mother.” She wanted to cup his jaw in her hand, caress it until his stormy eyes cleared and he showed her the devilish grin she was fast coming to enjoy.

  “That’s true, but it’s a bit more unsavory than that.” He stood as stiff as the handle of the pitchfork.

  “Oh?” What could make him so defensive? He and his brother were close in age, so Brody would’ve been a child at the time Roger was born. How could he be blamed for anything?

  “Roger’s mother was our family maid.” His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed.

  “Oh.” Good old Roger had left out that part. He’d always said Brody had made him feel inferior, as if it had been on purpose, but now she suspected it was Roger’s own insecurity reflected on Brody. No wonder Roger had been jealous of Brody as the legitimate son. Mary knew a lot about feeling like the outsider, whether it was an intentional slight or her own feelings projecting back.

  He let out a long, low sigh. “Yeah, live-in maid.”

  “It broke up your family?” No wonder he was so cynical.

  “That’s the thing. No. But it did give my mother ammunition...as if she didn’t have enough already. She was the one who came into the marriage with all the money and therefore all the power. And believe me, she knew how to wield that power.”

  “What happened to Roger and his mother?”

  “They lived in the pool house on the estate.” His expression told her he found it hard to believe, too.

  “Oh, wow...that sounds...”

  He quirked an eyebrow. “Complicated?”

  Among other things. “Yeah, and I take it you’re telling me you don’t do...that.”

  He gave a quick shake of his head. “Not anymore.”

  She dipped her head in a quick nod of acknowledgment. “Good to know.”

  And she needed to remember that. Elliott was Roger’s son, and that would make anything between her and Brody complicated. This whole bizarre situation must be a reminder of his childhood in a strange way. At least she knew up front that anything with Brody wouldn’t lead to forever.

  Aren’t you jumping the gun a bit? Coming to the hospital and offering her and Elliott a place to stay meant Brody was a decent person, not that he was interested in her in any way that might lead to anything physical between them.

  “So, you’ll accept my apology for what I said? I may not be responsible for Roger’s actions, but I’m still bothered by them. Ashamed that he didn’t do right by you and Elliott.”

  “Apology accepted. Frankly, I’m not proud of getting involved with him. Normally I’m a better judge of people. Considering my background, I’ve had to learn to read people and situations.”

  “Background?” He cocked his head.

  She might as well get this out of the way up front. It still surprised her how some people’s attitudes changed once they knew about her past—a past she’d had no control over—and she wanted to know up front if Brody was one of those. As a child she hadn’t understood it, but now she suspected people blamed the victim. Brody seemed to have his head on straight, but then, she’d been wrong about people before. She drew in a deep breath. “I grew up in foster care. My mother died when I was six. She was a single mother and there were no known relatives, so I went into the system.”

  “I’m sorry.” He took a step toward her, his eyebrows drawn together. “That’s why you were so insistent on Elliott having family. You must’ve been frantic after the accident.”

  “You could say that.” She touched the gash over her eye. “There was so much blood, I panicked and made sure everyone knew that Elliott was your nephew. In case...well, just in case. Considering Roger had no interest in him.”

  Brody reached out and pulled her in for a chaste hug. “Don’t worry. I may have acted like an insensitive jerk, but if anything ever did happen—which I doubt—I’d be there for Elliott.”

  “Really?” She put her arms around him. He smelled of hay, horses and fresh air, and she struggled with the urge to rest against his solidness, if even for a moment. There were so many reasons she should pull away. He didn’t do complicated, and their getting involved was that with a capital C. She was a single mother who needed to think of her son. Starting something with Brody knowing he didn’t do complicated would be stupid. She could be damaging the one thing she’d come for...establishing a familial relationship for her son.

  Instead of pulling away, she tightened her arms around him. He responded by fitting her body to his. He used his thumb under her chin to lift her face to his. The look in his eyes mirrored her anticipation, and her heart crashed against her ribs.

  “I’ve needed to know what you would taste like since you first smiled at me,” he whispered and fastened his mouth to hers.

  His lips were firm but gentle, c
oaxing a response from her, and she parted her lips, letting his tongue slide against hers. She couldn’t control the small sigh that escaped at the intimate contact. More, she wanted more, and leaned closer, aligning her body with his as his arms tightened around her. She was—

  The calf butted its head against them and started to bawl, its mournful cries mingled with their heavy breathing. Brody laughed, his breath warming her cheek, and she joined in, her gaze meeting his in a shared moment. Then he dropped his arms and stepped back.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have...” His brow furrowed.

  “No, it’s okay.” Strong words, even though she was feeling anything but, her knees weak, her hand trembling as she reached out to bury her fingers in the calf’s wiry coat. She cleared her throat, hoping to give her voice strength she didn’t feel. “Is she okay?”

  “I’m sure she’s fine for now,” he said as he led the calf back to the stall and shut the door once he’d gotten her settled. “Probably lonesome and missing Mom.”

  Mary could relate. She had still had a recurring nightmare of being lost in a maze of corridors and doors leading nowhere. No need for an expert to interpret the meaning.

  She went to the calf. “Don’t you worry, Eleanor, Brody has another cow to keep you company.”

  Brody’s lips twitched. “Eleanor?”

  “I like it,” she told him and lifted her chin. “What happens to her now?”

  He grinned and touched her cheek with the tip of his finger then stepped back. “Once I know she’s healthy enough, I’ll put her together with Gertie. Cows are social animals, and they can both benefit from the company.”

  “Speaking of social...where are the other animals? They don’t stay in the barn?”

  “During the day the alpacas are in a pen out back and the horses in the fenced-in corral. At night, the barn keeps them safe from predators.”