The Seal’s Baby

by Rogenna Brewer

  Maude continued her nervous rambling, and Hannah realized the woman was eager for her approval and some of her own nervousness disappeared. She was eager to please Mike’s family, as well. And although they didn’t seem to have much else in common they did have that.

  Mike stepped into the room to drop off her bags.

  Maude turned to face him. “Your father and I have decided to keep an open mind about the whole situation. You’re both mature adults. You have a child together. And we see no reason why you shouldn’t be allowed to share a bedroom in our home.”

  Had both meant her and Mike, not her and Fallon?

  “Ma—”

  “It’s okay. We know how these modern relationships work. We’re just so happy for you and we’re happy to have Hannah and Fallon as part of our family. Okay, then. I’ve rattled on long enough. I know you’re both tired. Sleep tight, dears.” She kissed Fallon’s cheek then handed her over to Hannah on the way out.

  Mike closed the door. “You okay with this? I can explain things to her—”

  “Don’t make a fuss. It doesn’t have to be that complicated. As long as you don’t mind sleeping on the floor.” Hannah tossed one of the pillows to the side of the bed, then turned her attention to the crib. “This is a beautiful piece of furniture. How old would you say it is?”

  “At least thirty-five years.”

  Hannah ran her hand lovingly across the top. Mike had slept here as a baby. Of course the bedding would have to go. Shifting Fallon on her hip, she put the bedding on a chair. “Do you think these slats are more than six inches apart?”

  “Maybe.” He stopped fixing his makeshift bed on the floor and reached for his vest pocket, but didn’t find it because he wasn’t wearing his web gear.

  There was a soft knock on the door, followed by it opening. “I brought you some—” Maude stood in the doorway with a load of clean towels. “Is something wrong?” she asked, staring at the pillow and blankets on the floor.

  “I tried to tell you—”

  “Mike hurt his back rappelling from a helicopter during our last training exercise. He needs to sleep on a hard surface for a while.”

  “Oh, Michael,” his mother said with some relief. “The things you get yourself into. I’ll just put these towels in the bathroom.”

  Mike shot Hannah a grateful look.

  “I hope your back is better soon,” Maude said as she was leaving. “Don’t forget your bag is out here in the hall. Sleep in tomorrow as long as you like. I’m making pancakes.”

  Hannah got the sneaking suspicion that even though Mrs. M. played along she didn’t quite believe their deception. Hannah had done it for Mike just as much as for his mother. He seemed to need his parents to believe everything was fine and dandy with their little family—not that they were really a family.

  “I think if you open up the top right drawer of that sewing table you’ll find a tape measure,” he said.

  She laid Fallon down in the crib and opened the drawer to find the tape measure. “They’re right at six, but I think that’s okay. I had to make sure the baby’s head couldn’t get caught between the slats,” she said before he could ask. “And quilts are suffocation hazards.”

  “Good to know for future reference,” he said. “Mind if I use the bathroom while you’re putting her down?”

  “Go ahead.”

  He grabbed his bag from the hall.

  Leaving Fallon playing with her toes in the crib, Hannah put her suitcase on an old dining-room chair that served as the sewing chair. She dug through for a clean sleeper for the baby and her own pj’s.

  By the time she’d changed the baby and got her settled in for the night, Mike had emerged from the bathroom. She turned down the light on her way, and he settled onto the floor.

  The hardwood wouldn’t be comfortable.

  Served him right for keeping secrets. “Good night, Sean.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  HANNAH SLEPT in until 0800. The very first thing she realized was that Fallon was still sleeping. Of course her daughter had had a long drive and a loving family to wear her out. For her own part, Hannah found the McCaffrey clan a bit overwhelming.

  Mike had already tidied up his bedroll and left the room. She wanted a shower, but she wasn’t sure if Fallon would continue to sleep through it.

  Opening the hall door, Hannah found Buddy right outside, wearing headphones and jamming to the overloud tunes coming from his CD player. He saw her and smiled.

  She smiled back. “Buddy, Buddy,” she had to repeat his name several times before he slipped off one earpiece. “Could you go get Mike?”

  “Hi, Fallon’s mom.”

  “Hi,” she said back. “Could you go get Mike for me, please?”

  “Mike’s not here.”

  “Not here? Where’d he go?” Had his pager gone off?

  “He’s not here,” Buddy repeated.

  “Okay,” she said.

  “Buddy?” Maude called up the stairs. “You’re not bothering Hannah, are you?”

  “No, I’m waiting. I’m waiting for Hannah and the baby to get up.”

  “Well, you come downstairs. And don’t bother them.”

  “He’s not bothering us, Maude,” Hannah called down. “I was just wondering if Mike was around.”

  Maude climbed the stairs to the landing so they were at least visible to each other. “They went into town for some truck parts.”

  “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

  “What is it you need, dear?” Maude got to the point.

  “I just wanted to take a shower. Fallon’s still asleep—” amazing with all the shouting back and forth “—and I thought he could listen for her, in case she wakes up.”

  “Just leave the bedroom door cracked and I’ll hear her from the kitchen.” Hannah must have let her glance slide to Buddy because Maude said, “He’s not going to bother the baby.”

  “Don’t bother the baby. No, no, no. Don’t bother Hannah and the baby.”

  Somehow, bless Buddy, that didn’t sound very reassuring. Hannah tried to figure a polite way out of her dilemma when Maude ushered Buddy downstairs with her. Relieved, Hannah left both the bedroom and bathroom doors ajar, just in case. Stripping, she hurried through her shower, keeping one ear tuned to the baby.

  Turning off the water, she opened the shower door, reached for a towel and screamed.

  “Bang.” A two-foot cowboy aimed his toy gun and shot her. “Bang.”

  “Out!” Hannah demanded, snagging the nearest towel and wrapping herself in it. The baby started crying. The door to the “boys’ room” slammed on girlish giggles, leaving only one escape route for little Tex.

  “What’s going on here?” Mike asked from the bedroom.

  “Bang!” He shot at Mike and tried to get past him.

  Mike picked his nephew up off the ground, gave him a pat on the behind, then set him down. “Go find your mother!”

  The boy ran out of the room. Hannah stood there in her towel. Fallon had stopped crying the minute she’d heard her father’s voice.

  Mike locked the bedroom door behind his nephew. “Guess I should have warned you. Big families have no respect for privacy. Gotta lock both doors.” He grinned at her.

  She moved to the closet and rifled through the few items she’d brought with her. “I wish you’d mentioned the anniversary dinner. I have nothing to wear…”

  When he didn’t say anything, she turned to find him staring at her. She pulled the towel more securely around her.

  “I’m just trying to imagine you pregnant.”

  Becoming even more self-conscious, she tucked a damp curl behind her ear. “Fat and awkward,” she said, trying to break the tension.

  “Show me,” he said, already moving across the room. “Show me the body you’ve been trying so hard to hide.”

  “I’m not going to stand here and flash you my stretch mar—”

  He parted the towel to caress the natural curves of her hips and breast
s. “I don’t see any stretch marks,” he lied.

  They were faint and getting fainter, but they were there, though his touch went a long way in making her believe anything that came from his lips. He bent to suckle at her breast, and she basked in the attention he gave her, but he stopped all too abruptly.

  “I’ll get the baby, you get dressed,” he said. “The pancakes are getting cold. And I’m starved.”

  He delivered a pat to her bottom, not unlike the one he’d given his nephew. Discipline tempered by love. A glimpse of the father he’d be? If they were mine, I would have turned them over my knee. “Yeah, right.” Hannah smiled to herself.

  The pancakes were not cold. They were hot and Mike’s mother kept them coming.

  “Coffee, Maudie?” Shamus asked his wife as she moved from stove to table. He poured a cup, measured out cream and sugar and took a sip. “Just the way you like it,” he said, handing it to his wife along with a peck on the cheek.

  FALLON SEEMED CONTENT with the constant attention. So Hannah tried not to mind that she hadn’t held her daughter all day. Hannah had found something to wear to the party. Though not as dressy as she would have liked, she wasn’t as naked as Mike made her feel every time he looked over with those hungry eyes.

  The dinner party was larger than she’d expected, about one hundred guests—friends and family, their parish priest, the ladies club. The open bar and the local oldies band kept the dance floor full. The food was served buffet style and the lack of assigned tables encouraged guests to move about freely.

  “What is it you do exactly, Hannah?” one of Mike’s sister’s was asking her. “None of this Navy SEAL business like my brother, I hope?”

  “I fly helicopters.”

  “Sounds dangerous. I think I’ll stick to raising my brood. That’s about all the adventure I need.”

  “You moved from Colorado, dear?” Maude asked, dipping a shrimp into the cocktail sauce.

  “Temporarily. I sold my condo before moving out here because I knew I’d be upgrading to a house with a yard for Fallon when we went back.”

  “You’re not staying in California, then? I thought Michael said you’d bought a house in Coronado?”

  “As an investment. My stock portfolio has been kind of flat lately. I wanted to take some of the money out and put it in real estate. But I have a job waiting for me at Hall-Petrone.”

  Her plans to move back were based on sound economics. She’d still have to make a living when this was all over.

  Would Mike have a reason to travel to Colorado? Either way they’d likely only see him a couple of times a year. He’d be deployed the rest of the time.

  “Where have I heard that name Hall-Petrone?”

  “They’ve been in the papers lately. Next week my boss, Peter Petrone, will ring the bell at the New York Stock Exchange to celebrate going public.”

  “How exciting. Now is this a good stock tip? Because I belong to a ladies investment group through my church. We’re mostly a social club you understand. But we each put in twenty-five dollars a month.”

  “Those clubs usually do very well because of the diversity. It’s a good investment. I negotiated a stock option clause into my contract with the company two years ago, just waiting for this day.”

  “Now this wouldn’t be considered insider trading, would it?” Maude whispered.

  “SHE IS SO OUT OF YOUR LEAGUE,” Meg reached for her beer, “Gucci luggage? Prada handbag and shoes? DKNY slacks and blouse? I bet you don’t even know the labels.”

  “Never heard of them,” Mike admitted.

  “She’s giving investment advice tonight. You might want to listen in.”

  “I have ears. There’s more than one way to make money. One way is to save it. Not handing it over to your sister is another.”

  “Thanks for the check, by the way. It’ll be worth it when you see the look on their faces.” Meg leaned a hip against the bandstand where he’d planted his butt after the band had taken a break. “So back to your girlfriend.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend. She’s Fallon’s mother.”

  “Whatever she is, I like her. A little uptight. But you two could be good for each other. Think she’d let me do a feature?”

  “You’ll have to ask her.” Mike’s eyes strayed to Hannah as she approached.

  “We were just talking about you,” Meg said. “I don’t know if Mike told you, I’m a photo journalist who sometimes gets stuck writing features for the only rag in town. What would you say to an interview? My big brother here has never consented to so much as a quote about his Navy SEALs.”

  “I’d be flattered,” Hannah agreed.

  “I’m interested in the single mother angle. Is it true that because of the hardship, single parents only make up about seven percent of the military population? I looked up the stats online. Of course, you two do know that roughly forty-one percent of women in the military marry a guy in uniform, right?”

  “Didn’t know that,” Hannah admitted.

  “Considering only forty-three percent marry, odds are, Hannah, you’re going to end up with a guy about six-two—” she raised her hand to her brother’s height “—brown hair, hazel eyes, looks good in a uniform.” Meg hid a knowing smile behind her beer. “Want to know how many children you’ll have?” She held up two fingers as she took a drink.

  “That’s enough,” Mike said, embarrassed by his sister’s stats, and yet at the same time encouraged by them. Hannah’s thoughts on the subject were hard to gauge.

  “Only six percent of men in the military marry a woman in uniform.” Hannah threw the information out like a challenge.

  “Only five percent of Seahawk pilots are women,” he countered. No matter what the odds, there was always a chance.

  “Okay, then,” Meg said, cutting through the tension. “We’ll squeeze out some time this weekend for that interview. Then next week, or whenever it’s convenient, I can drive down to San Diego for a ride in your helicopter and a photo shoot. Sound good? Isn’t Spencer Holden with your squadron? I heard he was injured in a crash recently. How’s he doing?”

  “He’s still in the hospital in Manila,” Hannah said soberly. “But he’s expected to make a full recovery.”

  “Except for his face, you mean. I’d kill to get to get that first picture—from Hollywood hottie to Scarface,” Meg wrote across the air.

  Hannah paled. “Excuse me,” she said, stepping away from them.

  “What did I say?”

  “Is there any delay between your brain and your mouth?” Mike asked. “You don’t always have to say the first damn thing to pop into your head!”

  The wait staff came around with trays of champagne flutes, signaling that it was time for the toast.

  Mike hopped up to the stage. Tapping his spoon to his glass to get the party’s attention, he called his parents up front.

  “A toast,” he said, raising his glass. “To Mom and Dad, on their thirty-sixth wedding anniversary. We don’t know how they managed to make it this far, but we’d like to think they have another thirty-six ahead. To start them off on that second leg we thought it might be nice if they got the chance to see some of what they missed during all those years of sacrifice while raising a brood to adulthood. We always had a roof overhead, albeit an overcrowded and occasionally leaky one, but there was always plenty of love and food on the table.”

  “Hear, hear,” everyone agreed, even some of his nieces and nephews who were running around with grape juice. Fallon spoke up with a timely squeal that made everyone laugh, and Mike felt a surge of pride hit him.

  Then Buddy took center stage and brought on more laughter. “To Mom and Dad—” he raised his glass “—hear, hear.”

  “Meg.” Mike turned the floor over to his youngest sister.

  Without further fanfare she handed an envelope to her mother. “We all pitched in to send you on a twenty-day Orient Adventure Cruise, from the South China Sea to the Great Barrier Reef. Start packing because you’r
e leaving for Hong Kong in a few days. From there it’s on to Taiwan, Japan, Guam, New Guinea and Australia.”

  “Oh, my.” Their mom put her hand to her breast.

  “And you don’t have to worry about anything while you’re away,” Meg added. “We have a schedule all worked out. And Buddy’s going to be spending time with each of us.”

  Tears streamed from his mother’s eyes. “I only wear makeup once a year and I know I’m running my mascara. I hope I remembered the waterproof kind this time.” She hugged Mike first because he was close, but then surprised him by not continuing around the room. “I have something I’d like to say,” she continued.

  “It beats all those road trips to Yosemite?” Marla asked.

  Mike joined his siblings in laughing and groaning in remembrance of their single family vacation destination.

  “Oh,” his mother said, “those trips hold some of the best memories of my life. But that’s really not what I have to say.” She grew serious all of a sudden, too serious, and Mike found himself bracing for an announcement, his mind going over myriad health issues that might arise at his parents’ age. “Your father and I have been living a lie….”

  A collective gasp.

  Mike had a sinking feeling in his gut. If his parents were about to announce their separation, he sure hadn’t seen it coming. Sure, their marriage wasn’t perfect, and it was a bit old-fashioned by today’s standards, but he’d always thought it was solid. Had his mother gotten tired of her role? He turned a scowl on his father. Because if his parents couldn’t make it last, no one could.

  “Woman, leave it be,” his father protested.

  “I can’t,” she said. “I’m sorry, but this needs to be said to all concerned. This is not our thirty-sixth wedding anniversary. It’s our thirty-fifth. Mike was a seven-month-baby when we got married. I’m an old woman now and I like the relief of getting that off my chest. Now I’ve said my piece, but that doesn’t mean I’ll be giving back this once-in-a-lifetime cruise.”