by Regan Black
His desk had nothing out of the ordinary. Behind his desk, he had a three-drawer file cabinet that she assumed the deputies had rifled through. When she opened the top drawer, she saw row after row of alphabetically organized file folders. The labels in the top drawer were all pertaining to various years’ income tax receipts.
She pulled out the one for the previous year and thumbed through it. Stock dividends and receipts. Like his credit card statement, there were several receipts from various jewelry stores and florists.
Idly, she wondered if this was all for the same mistress or if there had been a string of them.
The second drawer down was mostly empty. Except toward the back. There, inside plain manila envelopes, were CD’s of various X-rated movies. Reading the titles out loud made her feel queasy. She shoved those back in place, battling the urge to go wash her hands.
She approached the third and final drawer with some trepidation. But when she went to open it, it wouldn’t budge. Frowning, she studied it. It couldn’t be locked, or none of the other drawers would have opened.
Just to be sure, she located the key inside the desk and turned the lock. Now none of the drawers would open.
Once she turned the lock again, she was back where she started. Two opened; the third would not.
No amount of rattling would make the thing budge. Clearly, something was jammed inside.
As she considered what to do next, her cell phone rang. Caller ID showed it was her mother. Great. Exactly what she needed to make a horrible day worse.
“Hi, Mom.” Though she tried to put a little enthusiasm in her voice, she fell short. If her mother had known her better, she’d realize this, but since she rarely called or visited, she didn’t notice.
“Hello, Nicole. I’m calling to discuss something with you.”
No pleasantries, no asking how her recently widowed daughter might be doing, no questions about her grandson. Of course not. Nicole tried not to let her bitterness show when she spoke. “If you’re calling to ask about the funeral, Theresa Mabry took care of all that.”
“Oh.” It was impossible to tell if her mother was surprised. “Actually, Theresa already gave me the information on the services. She notified the entire church, this past Sunday. Which you’d know, if you’d bothered to attend services.”
Nicole didn’t even attempt to explain her actions. First off, there wasn’t a single excuse as far as her mother was concerned for missing church, and secondly, Nicole was a grown woman and mother. She didn’t have to justify her actions.
“Then why are you calling, Mother?” she asked.
“Theresa and Dan Mabry paid me a visit yesterday,” Fran said. The Shelton family didn’t beat around the bush. Fran in particular considered this a family motto. “They wanted me to approach you with something.”
Bile rose in Nicole’s throat. “And?” she prodded. Maybe this wasn’t what she suspected it might be. Surely her own mother couldn’t ask such a thing of her daughter.
“Now that Bill’s gone.” Fran paused. “You have to think about your child. Theresa and Dan want to adopt him and raise him. I’d like you to at least consider it. The boy would never want for anything.”
Nicole nearly hung up the phone. Instead, she forced herself to take several deep breaths before responding. “The boy, as you put it, is my son. Your grandson. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of my own child. I can’t believe you’d say such a thing.” But she could. Sadly, she could.
“Theresa told me you’d be unreasonable. Nicole, the Mabrys are respected members of our church and community. You need to rise above your selfishness and do what’s best for Jacob.”
Selfishness. In any other world, selfishness would mean abandoning a baby rather than nurturing him. Not in her mother’s.
“Mother, you know full well that Jacob isn’t Bill’s son. Why didn’t you tell Theresa Mabry that? I’m sure once she learns the truth, she’ll give up this ridiculous idea.”
Fran gasped. “I’d never tell her that. Think about the gossip! We’d all become the objects of gossip and ridicule.”
“If you won’t, I will.” Nicole hardened her voice. “Because the best thing for Jacob is staying with the mother who loves him.”
“You don’t have the resources,” Fran pushed right back. “The Mabrys do.”
“I’ll manage,” Nicole responded dryly. “At least I know I have you and Daddy to count on for support.”
Her mocking statement was met with absolute silence. If Nicole hadn’t been so used to her mother’s rejection, she would have cried.
“If you turn down the Mabrys’ kind offer, don’t come running to us for help when you run out of money. In fact, don’t bother coming to us at all. Am I clear?”
“As clear as mud.” And then, because it childishly made her feel better, Nicole ended the call first.
After all this time, her mother’s words should have lost the power to wound her. But in the end, Fran was still her mother—the only one she had. For one reason or another, Nicole had been made to feel she’d never been good enough to be loved. Deep down inside, she supposed she’d never lost that hope that someday, her mother would.
But the night Nicole had gone into labor, Theresa and Dan Mabry had joined Nicole and Bill at the hospital. Bill had called Nicole’s parents, who’d claimed to be busy or ill or something, so they hadn’t come. Nicole had delivered her child without her own mother’s presence.
She’d refused to let that hurt overshadow the joy of giving birth to a healthy baby boy. She hadn’t realized that slight would but be the beginning of many.
In all of three months of life, Jacob had met his maternal grandparents exactly once. Neither Nicole’s mom or dad had wanted to hold the baby. Instead of being enthralled by him as Nicole was, they mostly tried to pretend he didn’t even exist.
Jacob cried and she went to get him. She’d work on the stuck file cabinet drawer later.
* * *
After waking up in the hospital with burns over seventy percent of his body, Kyle had believed he would never feel pain like that again. Skin grafts and treatments had proved him wrong, and then had come physical therapy.
The nightmares were bad too, especially the ones that brought chills and night sweats. Panic attacks, where his heart would race and he couldn’t breathe. They’d noticed this there in Walter Reed and a compassionate nurse had given him a flyer addressing PTSD. She’d suggested therapy once he got out. He’d promised to look into it and had tucked the flyer away, promptly forgetting about it. He figured once some time had passed since the explosion, he’d be fine.
Only he wasn’t. If anything, he’d gotten worse. Jumpy, nervous, even driving had become a trial by fire and ice. Teeth clenched, he found himself gripping the wheel and hoping he wouldn’t overreact.
A car backfiring, fireworks, any loud, sudden sound or movement had him cringing, jumping, even hitting the floor. He despised the person he’d become, a coward too afraid of his own shadow.
And he’d pinned all his hope for redemption on stepping into the life he had planned with Nicole.
Only that, too, had turned out to be impossible. When he found himself obsessively cleaning his pistol and wondering if he ought to end it, he considered the possibility that he needed help. Except he couldn’t make himself ask for it. He was an army ranger, after all. Sua Sponte. Of Their Own Accord.
He could deal with this. He would deal with this. It would, he reasoned, take time. And time was the one thing he had a lot of.
Driving around downtown Anniversary, he impulsively decided to visit the Army Recruiting Office. The same place where he’d originally signed up, shortly after graduating high school. How much had changed since then.
The recruiter behind the metal desk looked up when Kyle entered. As soon as Kyle introduced himself, the other man broke into a wide grin.
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“Kyle Benning,” he exclaimed. “Let me shake your hand. It’s not every day one of my recruits becomes a ranger.”
They shook. “Thank you, John.” He got the name from the name tag the recruiter wore. “Though my time was cut short, I was glad to serve. I’m also glad to be home.”
“Understandable. I heard what happened to you.” John shook his head. “Still, it’s better than what we were originally told. The whole town went into mourning when we were told you were dead.”
Not sure of how to respond to that, Kyle simply nodded. He looked around. The office seemed a lot smaller and dingier than he remembered. “How’s business?”
“About what you’d expect in a small town.” John shrugged. “Guys graduate high school, look around at the limited prospects if they can’t afford to go to college and enlist. They want to see the world, serve their country and learn a marketable skill. Sometimes it’s right after graduation, sometimes it takes a few months. But I’m busy enough.”
They exchanged a few more pleasantries. Finally, Kyle turned to go. “If you’re ever hiring, even part-time,” he said. “Give me a call. I’d definitely be interested.”
John’s bushy brows rose. “I’ll keep that in mind. I’ve been wanting to take my wife on vacation, but haven’t had anyone who could fill in.”
“Just say the word.” Grabbing a sticky note off an empty desk, Kyle jotted down his number and handed it to John. “Take care.”
Once back in his vehicle, Kyle felt pleased. He hadn’t intended on immediately looking for work, but something like this—even part-time—would be perfect. He had quite a bit of money saved from his salary, plus he received a decent military disability compensation monthly. He had more than enough to live on. Working as a recruiter would perfectly fit his skill set, as well as be a way to occupy his time.
Since returning home, nothing had gone as planned. Again, he thought of Nicole, and of the baby boy who most likely was his son. His family, the first real blood relative he’d ever had. He’d been in foster care since he’d been a toddler. Child Protective Services had removed him from his drug-addicted parents’ home and he’d been told both parents had overdosed and died while he’d been a small child. The only thing they’d given him had been his name.
Since no other relatives—grandparents or aunts or uncles—ever stepped forward to take over his care, he’d never seen the point in doing any kind of research to see if he had any living kin. He probably never would.
No matter what, he planned to have a relationship with his son. With Jacob. And to do that, he’d need to figure out a way to get along with Nicole. He’d need to let go of the bitterness and the hurt. Someday, he hoped he’d be able to do just that. Right now, he felt as if he had an open wound right there on his chest above his heart, still bleeding.
Later that afternoon, Bret called and invited him over for dinner. “Heather can’t wait to see you,” he said. “She was very excited when I mentioned running into you at the grocery store. We’d love for you to come eat tomorrow night.”
“Sounds good,” Kyle replied. “What should I bring?”
“Just yourself.”
After the call ended, Kyle went out to his small backyard. He felt surprisingly ambivalent about going to his old friend’s for dinner and he wasn’t sure why. Maybe because Bret had accomplished exactly what Kyle had planned—he’d married his high school sweetheart and begun a life together with her.
Again, the bitterness, this time tempered with envy. Such thoughts and emotions were unfitting an army ranger, so Kyle did his best to shake them off. He went to bed early, hoping to at least catch a couple of hours of decent sleep instead of tossing and turning all night.
Unfortunately, the instant he finally managed to doze off, he woke up shaking and drenched in sweat. He got up and paced, finally jumping in the shower to rinse his body off. He changed the sheets, but didn’t lie back down. Instead, he sat in the ancient recliner that had come with the house, turned on the television and hoped for the best.
When he woke again, his neck stiff and his arm numb, he pushed to his feet and stretched.
That afternoon, he made a run into town and picked up a bottle of wine just in case. Here in Anniversary, one never showed up for dinner at a friend’s house empty handed. Even a kid from a foster home knew that.
He arrived at the address Bret had given him exactly on time. As he went up the sidewalk, he reflected on the nicely trimmed hedges, the bright flowers and the lush green lawn. Before he could ring the bell, Heather threw open the door and wrapped him in a perfume-scented hug, her belly huge, her complexion glowing. “You look amazing,” he said. “Pregnancy certainly agrees with you.”
“Thank you! We’re so glad to see you,” she said, smiling. “Come in. Come in. Make yourself at home. Can I get you a beer?”
“Sure,” he agreed. He followed her through the living room, into the kitchen and then outside to the back patio.
Where he stopped. Nicole sat in one of the lawn chairs, laughing at something Bret had said. Baby Jacob sat in an infant carrier at her feet, brightly colored plastic toys strung in front of him. Kyle couldn’t help but stare, struck dumb by her beauty. When she looked up and saw Kyle, all the color leached from her face. Her huge hazel eyes widened and her lips parted, though no sound came out.
He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.
Though he’d made a resolution to reach some sort of compromise with Nicole, he hadn’t expected to see her this soon.
CHAPTER 6
Nicole’s stomach lurched when she saw Kyle walk into the backyard. He wore a baseball cap over his short dark hair. From the stunned look on his handsome face, he hadn’t expected to see her here either.
Neither spoke.
Bret looked from one to the other, his brow wrinkled, clearly puzzled. “You two don’t seem particularly happy to see each other. I thought you were friends.”
“Friends?” Nicole repeated weakly. “Um, I’m not sure…”
“Of course they’re friends,” Heather insisted, the cheerfulness in her voice not the tiniest bit forced. Her broad smile never wavered, not even when she took Kyle’s arm and led him to the empty chair next to Nicole.
As their gazes locked, Nicole wondered if he’d bolt and run and how she should react if he did. Instead he lowered himself into the chair after greeting Bret. A moment later, he accepted the beer Heather brought him before she headed back inside the kitchen. Earlier, Nicole had refused Heather’s offer of wine since she was still breastfeeding Jacob. Heather had given her a cucumber-flavored water instead.
Despite the way her heartbeat had gone wonky, Nicole felt strangely removed from the entire situation, as if she were watching from somewhere else and not actually involved. A coping mechanism, she felt quite sure. No way did she have it in her to initiate some kind of chitchat. Instead, she eyed the play of sunlight on Kyle’s muscular arm, her mouth dry as she battled an intense need to reach out and touch him. Even a sip of her water didn’t help.
“Hi,” he finally said, greeting her. His smile, though a bit strained, seemed genuine enough. The brim of the hat put shadows over his face, hiding his startling emerald eyes. “Funny meeting you here.”
Bret laughed at that, the sound too loud and clearly forced. Nicole didn’t respond. Bret looked from Kyle to Nicole. He shrugged. “I think I’ll go see if there’s anything Heather needs,” he said, and fled.
It took every ounce of self-restraint Nicole possessed not to ask him to stay. Leaving her alone with Kyle was a recipe for disaster, at least judging by what had happened in the ER. She debated getting up and following her host inside, but she knew if she did that, it would generate questions she didn’t want to have to answer.
“Talk about uncomfortable,” she mused out loud, once Bret had gone, keeping her voice low.
Kyle
sighed. When he removed his hat and looked at her, his eyes were full of regret. “I’m sorry for what happened at the hospital,” he said, low voiced. “I was completely out of line. If it’s okay with you, I think we should start over. I’d like for us to be friends, especially since I’m going to want to be involved in Jacob’s life.”
Friends. Inwardly, she winced. Never in her life would she have imagined she and Kyle could have any sort of platonic relationship. Heat sparked like lightning whenever they were around each other. Even now, her entire body felt electrified, her blood humming. He wanted to be friends.
While that was infinitely better than enemies, she knew how difficult a simple, uncluttered friendship would be for her. She loved him. She always had, even when she’d believed he’d died. She’d never once doubted his would be the first face she’d see once her own life had ended, and that they’d be together in eternity until the end of time.
Inside she understood that she’d spend the rest of her life loving him. Even though right now, he didn’t feel the same way.
Jacob fussed a little, drawing both their attention. He settled back down, concentrating on his pacifier as well as the brightly colored plastic toys on the bar in front of him. Already he resembled his father, from the dimple in his chin to the greenish tint of his eyes. She just knew once Jacob’s eyes finally became their permanent color, they’d be the same emerald green as Kyle’s.
“Nicole?” Kyle leaned closer, his breath tickling her ear. This sent a jolt of longing straight to her core. “What do you think? Can we be friends?”
Truly, she didn’t know. But for her son’s sake, she knew she had to try. They had to keep things amicable between them for Jacob. Her son would grow up with the love of two devoted parents, even if they lived separate lives. And who knew? Maybe once Kyle got to know her again, he’d realize she hadn’t truly betrayed his trust.
