The Captain's Baby Bargain

by Merline Lovelace

  Once she had her iPad in hand, flighty, flirty Alicia transformed into SuperRealtor. She clicked picture after picture, added dimensions, laid on the superlatives.

  “You know,” she said as Suze and Doofus walked her to the front door, “Gabe could make twice what he put into the house if he decided to sell instead of rent.”

  “Renting is good for now. But don’t offer more than a year’s lease. We’re not sure where we’ll be after the baby’s born.”

  “So the rumor’s true?” Alicia’s gaze dive-bombed to Suze’s middle, zinged up again. “You’re pregnant?”

  Suze didn’t bother to ask where she’d heard the rumor. With three ecstatic grandparents-to-be and six siblings-in-law, some version of the news was bound to leak.

  “It’s true.”

  Alicia’s smile didn’t convey quite its usual brilliance, but her congratulations were heartfelt. “That’s great, Suzanne. I’m happy for you and Gabe. Honestly. But renting for just one year with no option to extend may restrict your customer base.”

  “We’ll take that chance.”

  “Okay. Well...” She held out a hand. “Congratulations again. I sincerely hope you and Gabe make it work this time.”

  * * *

  “That’s what she said?” Suze’s mom asked an hour later. “She hoped you two would make it work this time?”

  They were in the kitchen, preparing their contribution to the family picnic to come later that afternoon. Mary sprinkled bright red paprika over two trays of deviled eggs while Suze turned the last of the sizzling chicken in the cast-iron frying pan.

  “That’s what she said.”

  “If I didn’t believe in saying no evil,” her mother muttered with a determined shake of the paprika container, “I’d have a name for that woman. I probably shouldn’t tell you this but...well...” Another vigorous shake. “Someone told Kathy she stripped naked and went skinny-dipping in the creek out behind Gabe’s house. Just her bad luck he’d gone over to Ok-City and didn’t get back until she was shriveled up like a...”

  “Mom! That’s enough paprika. We’d better shove this stuff in the fridge and get downtown. The parade starts in twenty minutes.”

  Her mother abandoned the spice and dusted her hands on her navy-blue slacks. She’d topped them with a round-necked red T-shirt, and, to her daughter’s delight, she’d also gone in for a new do. The turquoise tips were gone. Her chin-length bob now sported streaks of red and blue amid the snowy white.

  Given the limited wardrobe Suze had brought with her, she opted to go with white jeans and her royal blue Warrior Mom T-shirt. If Alicia had heard a rumor about the baby, it had to be all over town anyway.

  “Are you going to ride in the parade with Gabe?” her mother wanted to know.

  “He’s participating as mayor. I don’t think...”

  “Well, I do! You’re the mayor’s wife. You should be there with him.”

  She might’ve still held out if Gabe hadn’t called her just as she and her folks joined the herd of excited kids and indulgent parents streaming toward downtown.

  “Where are you?”

  “On 5th, about to turn onto Main.”

  “Cut across to 3rd. And hurry. We’re in the third slot, right behind the VFW color guard and Colonel Amistad’s car.”

  He hung up before she could ask him whether his crew had plugged the water main. Yielding to the combined pressure of her husband and her parents, Suze cut through the alley between the pharmacy and Dottie’s Antiques & Collectibles.

  She found Gabe standing beside a vintage convertible with a magnetic placard on each door identifying the passenger as Cedar Creek’s mayor. She guessed he’d come straight from the leak site. His jeans were wet from the knee down, no doubt from hosing off layers of mud, but he must’ve swung by his office to grab a sport coat.

  He was standing next to a uniformed Air Force officer who had racks of ribbons climbing almost all the way up to his shoulder. Although Suze hadn’t met Colonel George Amistad before, she knew him by reputation. He’d risen through the ranks from wrench bender to officer candidate to hotshot pilot to commander of the Air National Guard unit that shared a runway with Will Rogers Airport.

  His wife accompanied him. The petite, blue-eyed blonde was a direct descendent of the Choctaw chief who’d led his tribe over the Trail of Tears. The Amistads lived on the south side of Oklahoma City but given Cedar Creek’s close proximity to the FAA and Will Rogers Airport, Gabe interacted with the colonel frequently on community matters and had asked him to act as grand marshal of the parade this year.

  Suze’s salute was automatic, unthinking, a junior officer’s tribute to an officer, a gentleman and a hero. He returned it with the same courtesy.

  “I read about your Bronze Star, Captain Hall. Sounded like you took some heat down range.”

  “Just a little, sir.”

  “Proud of you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Proud of your hubby, too.” He clapped a hand on Gabe’s shoulder. “I hate that the Air Force lost someone with his smarts, but he’s done a great job as mayor. Sure would like to see him run for national office before I die. Senator Hall has a ring to it, don’t you think?”

  His comment was so close to Suze’s previous thoughts that she blinked. “Yes, sir.”

  “How about you come see me tomorrow. You and Gabe? We’re the first Guard unit to bed down the new MC-12. I think you’ll both be interested in its capabilities.”

  They’d planned to get serious about packing tomorrow but both recognized a politely veiled order when they heard one.

  “We can do that,” Gabe confirmed.

  “Good. Make it around ten. We can...”

  A shrill, ear-piercing screech made them all wince. It emanated from the toy whistle blown by a sweating Dr. Peterman. The chubby, round-faced dentist wind-milled his arms at the various lead elements.

  “Showtime, everyone!”

  The band formed into neat lines. The volunteer firefighters jumped aboard their pumper. The still incredibly hard-bodied Joanna Hicks adjusted her rhinestone crown, twitched her Mrs. Oklahoma sash into place and ascended to the throne mounted on the bunting-draped trailer being towed by her adoring husband. The floats and bands behind them scrambled into position.

  Harried, Doc Peterman rushed over to shoo the grand marshal, the mayor and their wives to their vehicles. Suze joined her husband in the backseat of the vintage Corvette. The band launched into John Philip Souza’s “The Stars and Stripes Forever.” The VFW honor guard stepped out. Colonel Amistad’s vehicle followed at a sedate speed. The Corvette kept a respectful distance behind him, and Cedar Creek’s Fourth of July celebrations were officially underway.

  * * *

  The family picnic that followed the parade was quintessential Small Town, America. For all Suze’s youthful eagerness to shake off the dust of Cedar Creek and explore the world, she cherished her memories of occasions like this.

  The Hall and Jackson clans congregated at Gabe’s place so the kids and Doofus could splash in the creek. Shrieking and woofing, they frolicked under the watchful eyes of assorted grandparents, parents, aunts and older cousins.

  Hot dogs and hamburgers sizzled on the grill. Foil-wrapped sweet corn steamed. Suze nuked the chicken she’d fried that morning at her mom’s house while Gabe’s brothers-in-law dumped ice into chests crammed with beer and soft drinks. Their wives loaded portable picnic tables with Jell-O salads, deviled eggs, potato salad, baked beans, fried okra and an assortment of chips.

  A stranger surveying the mounded platters and Saran-covered bowls might doubt the feast could all be consumed at one sitting, and it wasn’t. Everyone made several passes over the next few hours, however. A lively game of volleyball later in the afternoon revived appetites enough for the homemade ice cream to make an appearance to a round of applause, along with the iced watermelon and angel food cake topped with strawberries, blueberries and whipped cream.

  When the sun slid beh
ind the tree line, the tables were cleared, the kids corralled and the lawn chairs folded for easy carrying. Then the whole group traipsed the few blocks to Veterans’ Memorial Park. Although it was just coming on to dusk, tiny white lights outlined the roof and posts of the newly painted Victorian bandstand. The Combined Senior Adult Choir and orchestras from the four churches in town were assembling for their traditional patriotic concert. Suze’s mom abandoned the family to take her place among the sopranos, while her dad went to help with the speakers and mics.

  Half the town was already in place, their lawn chairs and blankets riding the gentle slope in front of the bandstand. As Suze and Gabe and the rest of their family wove their way to a vacant spot, friends and neighbors she hadn’t seen in years congratulated her and Gabe on their remarriage. Several also offered congratulations on the baby.

  “The village tom-toms must’ve been thumping nonstop,” she commented drily.

  “Comes with the territory. How’s this spot, gang?”

  With the enthusiastic approval of the rest of the clan, Gabe helped unfold lawn chairs, then went to make sure his crews had everything in place for the fireworks.

  “Be back when I can.”

  When he strode off, his mother crooked a finger. “Here, take this chair next to mine, Suzanne. You’ve been so busy, we haven’t really had a chance to just sit and chat since you got home.”

  “I know, Violet, and I’m sorry for that.”

  Suze settled in the woven green-and-white chair and yielded to little Tildy’s demands for a cuddle. With the toddler wide-eyed and nested comfortably in her lap, Suze surveyed choir and orchestra.

  “How many of these Fourth of July concerts have you attended?” she asked her mother-in-law.

  “Dan and I made about every one.”

  Violet lowered her eyes, her thoughts turned inward for a moment. Even after all these years, she still missed her husband. Suze remembered him as a big, bluff, generous-hearted man who loved to play dominoes with his pals from the VFW.

  “We couldn’t come the year Penny was in the hospital, so sick with meningitis. I had to take a pass last year, too, because of this danged hip replacement.”

  “You’re still limping pretty badly. Did you do physical therapy?”

  “Three months of it.” She made a face. “Getting old is not for the faint of heart.”

  “So my mom and dad keep telling me.”

  Tildy spotted her older siblings and demanded to be set down. Her chubby legs pumping, she chased after the others under the watchful eye of her parents and aunts and uncles. Her grandmother kept an eye on her as well, before turning to her daughter-in-law.

  “I’m so happy about the baby, Suzanne.”

  “Me, too.”

  She really was. Coming home had vanquished her initial doubts and fears. Coming home and falling in love with Gabe all over again.

  Except...

  As she and Gabe had discussed, she would be on restricted duty until after the baby was born. Then it would be another six months before she became eligible for worldwide duty again. Her unit at Luke would have to work around her during that long stretch.

  She couldn’t quite quash a niggling feeling of guilt at leaving her team in the lurch. And wondering just how she and Gabe would handle the separations once she was eligible to deploy again. Being apart so much had wreaked havoc on their marriage before.

  He was determined this time would be different. That they were different. She had to believe he was right.

  The orchestra began to tune up. The choirs shifted into place. Under the cover of squeaky reeds, sliding trombones and shuffling feet, Violet said softly, “I’ve had time to think about Gabe going back to Phoenix with you. I admit I didn’t much like the idea when the two of you told me.”

  Suze flicked a glance at her sisters-in-law. Penny and Jill sat next to each other, their heads together as they laughed over some private joke. Kathy was adjusting her eldest daughter’s headband, an elaborate affair that sported an array of blinking, bobbing, red, white and blue stars. Their husbands stood in a loose cluster, no doubt assessing the latest acquisition by Oklahoma City’s pro basketball team.

  “You weren’t the only one who didn’t like the idea.”

  “Yes, well, I’ve changed my mind. I think you’re doing the right thing.”

  Suze felt her jaw sag. As the orchestra’s only flautist trilled in the background, she stared at her mother-in-law in surprise. Smiling, Violet reached for her hand.

  “Cedar Creek is your home. Your roots go bedrock deep. So do Gabe’s. But this town may be filled with too many memories for you both, and too many people who want a piece of your lives. So it could be that you need to build a new life together, just you and Gabe and the baby. Then, when you’re ready, come home again.”

  Before Suze could reply, the conductor rapped his baton on his music stand and called for quiet. The talk and laughter buzzed down, the conductor turned back to face his silver-haired performers and the concert kicked off with “This Land Is Your Land,” a much-loved favorite by Oklahoma’s own Woody Guthrie.

  Suze joined in the singing but Violet’s comments kept circling in her head. They were still there when Gabe rejoined the group.

  “Fireworks all set to go?” his mother asked.

  “All set. It’s going to be a heck of a show.”

  He repeated the same promise when he was called to the stage. He also thanked the orchestra, the choirs and the volunteers working the lighting, sound, safety and cleanup.

  He stood so tall and handsome and at ease beside the podium. He used no notes while he reminded his listeners about the men and women who’d fought for and defended the country’s independence. And were still fighting to defend it, he said with a deliberate glance in his wife’s direction.

  Suze flushed at the spontaneous applause and faces turned in her direction. Gabe waited for it to die down before emphasizing that gatherings like this were taking place all across America.

  “Celebrating our fundamental freedoms with friends and family is what keeps this community and this country strong. Whatever happens in Washington, we stand together in Cedar Creek.”

  He stepped down to hearty applause, topped by a shout from an appreciative female constituent. “Justin Trudeau and that Macron dude got nothing on you, Mayor! You just keep on doin’ what you’re doin’.”

  Hoots and laughter followed him back to his seat. As the choir began a stirring medley, Suze leaned closer. “You must not have told anyone about moving to Arizona. The jungle drums would’ve been working overtime.”

  “I gave Joanna Hicks a heads-up but asked her to keep it quiet until after the Fourth. I’ll present my formal resignation at the town council meeting tomorrow afternoon. Tonight is just for having fun, not saying goodbye.”

  * * *

  Despite his easy slouch, Gabe kept his eyes on his watch as he counted down to the fireworks display. The town’s pumper and crew were parked right at the edge of the dirt lot where the contractor providing the pyrotechnic display had set up. His fellow volunteer firefighters were monitoring their phones, prepared to respond instantly. An ambulance from the regional hospital was five minutes away.

  When tragedy struck, however, it didn’t happen at the carefully controlled site. The first indication was a loud ka-boom that jerked everyone around. The second was a wild burst of fireworks gyrating like corkscrews through the sky to the east. Gabe was already shoving out of his chair when his phone shrilled. He answered, then took off at a run.

  “Stoney Brook Estates,” he threw over his shoulder. “Chuck Osborne’s place. Be back when I can.”

  Suzanne was only a half-step behind him. She knew the Emergency Action Checklist for On-Scene Commanders backward and forward. If nothing else, she could help at the command center, work the communications or coordinate relief efforts. Whatever Gabe or his on-scene commander needed.

  Chapter Nine

  Gabe, the fire chief and the medical
examiner pieced the sequence of events together after the fact. Tragically, the Osborne fire had resulted from one of those freak accidents people read about but never believe could really happen.

  Chuck Osborne and his two young sons had decided to hold their own Independence Day celebration. In preparation, Chuck had almost bought out one of the fireworks tents that sprouted up like mushrooms throughout Oklahoma in late June. He and the boys had shot off parts of their cache the previous couple of nights but saved the biggest and best for the Fourth.

  Then Chuck, a savvy avionics systems instructor at FAA who damned well should’ve known better, leaned over to light the fuse of a rocket mounted on a launcher stuck in the ground. The rocket exploded prematurely and rammed straight into his chest. The force of the hit had stopped his heart and fiery sparks set his shirt alight.

  One of his frantic sons had tried to douse the fire by rolling him in the dirt but the boy was too young and his dad was too heavy to roll. The other son raced for the garden hose. By the time he’d tugged the hose as far as it would reach and arced a stream of water at his father, flames were devouring the tinder-dry grass around him.

  * * *

  When Gabe and Suze arrived, it was a scene right out of their worst nightmares. Thick black smoke blotted out the evening sky. Flames formed a seemingly impenetrable wall stretching from the Osbornes’ home to the fields behind it. The blazing backdrop illuminated the two-and three-hundred-thousand-dollar homes scattered at wide intervals through the development.

  The fire chief gave Gabe a quick sit rep. “Chuck Osborne’s dead. His son said a rocket augured into his chest and exploded. Wife says she saw his body enveloped in flames. The boys suffered burns, don’t know how bad yet. Donna, too. They’re on their way to the regional hospital.”

  Gabe squinted at the roiling smoke and dancing flames. “We need help with this, chief.”

  “Already put out the call for aid from our surrounding communities. Mustang’s pumpers and tanker are five minutes out. Yukon and OKC are responding, too.”

  “What about a Hot Shot cadre?”