If I Loved You

by Leigh Riker

  “We’ll see.” She faced away from the window. Jeff’s car had just pulled into the lot. “I need to tidy up the nursery—” which stood at the opposite end of the hall from Ernie’s group “—then start some wash. You wouldn’t believe how many crib sheets we used this week. I’m wearing out the center’s dryer, too.”

  She was out of the office, hurrying along the hall, Brig likely forgotten for the moment, before Molly could respond.

  At least Molly had finally stopped thinking about Natalie Brewster.

  About Indiana in the snow. And angels.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Hey, Collier. Denton? No surprise there. Find anyone else for our princess? All the guys wish we could adopt her. Wouldn’t that be a blast? First girl ever to have a dozen “fathers.” Good luck, boss man. H.

  AFTER HIS CALL to Sean’s father, Brig had written to the team. And he couldn’t stop thinking all the next day about the night he and Molly had made angels in his grandmother’s snowy yard. What if he hadn’t broken their engagement years ago to follow his own star? What if they had married, and Brig, not Andrew, had waited at the altar to watch Molly come down the aisle in that long white dress? By now they might have two or three kids and plenty of room in their lives for Laila.

  But they didn’t. As the newest email reminded him, he was searching for someone to keep the little girl for a while. He was still doing things he couldn’t tell Molly about in places she’d never been. Indiana was probably the farthest she had traveled from Liberty in years, if not ever.

  In the spare room, he diapered Laila, then set her in the swing. He didn’t hear Molly coming up the stairs. He still had his back to her when suddenly she spoke. So much for his keen sense of imminent danger.

  Her words only made Brig feel worse. “Every day when I get home,” she said, “I expect you to be gone.”

  His shoulders tensed. “Is that what you want?”

  “No, but you’ve been talking about a move next door....”

  Now he was getting crazy. No doubt she hadn’t meant that at all.

  “I’m moving,” he said, “at least in the right direction. I rented a car yesterday—declaration of independence—so you won’t have to cart us around.”

  “Brig, even Pop says not to hurry.” She walked over to the swing and wound up the music. “Itsy Bitsy Spider” began to play. “You and Laila are settled here. Why change that now?”

  “Yeah, but she’s pretty loud at night. I hate to bother you guys.”

  Molly touched Laila’s hand. “I hear babies crying all day. And if I’m not mistaken, Pop loves her. It’s been good for him to have you here.”

  Brig turned. For a moment he couldn’t speak. After what he’d done to Molly long ago, after her father had made it plain he wasn’t to hurt her again, they were asking him once more to stay.

  “I don’t know,” he finally said. “If we can borrow the crib—”

  “Of course you can. But think,” she said.

  And he saw what appeared to be distress in her eyes. After days of keeping away from him, she seemed upset to have him go. Maybe he hadn’t messed up again too badly the night of their snowball fight after all. Or was it Laila?

  “After work I’m home and on weekends, and Pop is always here,” she went on with a rueful smile. “If necessary, Ann’s usually available. And with Laila’s colic lately, wouldn’t you rather have our help than be alone over there—” she gestured toward his parents’ house “—with no one else around to give you a breather?”

  Brig smiled. “Sounds like some TV reality show where the parents have eight kids at once and the whole town steps in to help out.”

  He dared himself to put an arm around her shoulders, but he didn’t move. “Which reminds me...the zoning commission meeting.” Caught up in his own issues, he’d almost forgotten. But then he hadn’t seen her much until now. “How did it go?”

  “Don’t ask.”

  “Your presentation was good, Molly.” She had shown it to him the day before the meeting. “How can they refuse to grant the exemption?”

  “I think Natalie Brewster’s against it. And other neighbors are concerned. They’ll have a chance to speak at the next meeting before the vote.” She paused. “Did you connect with Sean’s father?”

  He told her about Denton.

  “That’s too bad,” she murmured. “What will you do now?”

  “Make more calls.” Brig’s spirits lifted. “Denton’s not the worst guy in the world. Would you believe he called me back today and gave me a number for one of Sean’s cousins? Seems Sean was close to several of them. But I’ll give this woman a try first. If that doesn’t work, maybe she can tell me where to find the others.” He added, “I think Denton was more shaken up about Sean—and Laila—than he let on.”

  “What about Zada’s family?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Not a chance. They disowned her—the whole bunch—when she married Sean. It’s a cultural thing, I guess, but they apparently consider Laila tainted blood somehow. He said they weren’t big on Americans.” Brig paused. “Besides, that would mean taking her right back into the same dangerous environment I finally got her out of.” He added, “She’s also a U.S. citizen, thanks to Sean. With her very own passport.” He touched Molly’s shoulder, then quickly withdrew his hand. “Laila can stay in this country.”

  She frowned. “Pop says the situation overseas isn’t getting better.”

  He sighed. “Yeah, and I need to find some solution here fast.”

  “Could you get an extension on your leave?”

  “I’ve already had one. Requesting it was the first thing I did after I realized my folks were among the missing. My team’s an elite unit, and we don’t live by the normal rules in the mainstream military. We’re more flexible—at least when there’s not trouble to fly into somewhere. How much longer before that happens, I don’t know.”

  “Maybe one of the team could help.”

  “They’re in the same position I am. Prepared to ship out. But here.” He showed her his phone with the latest post from the team and saw her smile.

  “It’s a good group.”

  “The best,” he agreed.

  Molly paused, as if uncertain about her next words. “Is there any chance you could...leave the service? If you did, that could be the solution for Laila. You’d be here, too.”

  “In D.C.,” he said. He was one of those many people in the CIA and other low-profile organizations who, when asked about their jobs, answered only that it was in government.

  But Molly had a point, as she often did.

  “I know someday in the not-too-distant future I’ll have to make that decision to opt out—as several members of my unit did this year. What we do requires lightning-fast reflexes, top-notch physical condition and a razor-sharp mind. Lives depend on that. And on my skills. It’s a young man’s job. Once the body starts to decline even a little, the end is in sight.”

  But Brig was still at his peak, and the adrenaline rush that went with his job was like an addictive drug. He’d always been a daredevil. And Molly wasn’t.

  “I’m not ready to leave all that behind me,” he said. Not the way he had left Molly years ago. “I can’t hang it up just yet.”

  Had his words hurt her again now? She gave him a look, one of those female things he couldn’t interpret. Or was she simply thinking about Laila?

  “I guess you’d better make that call,” she said.

  * * *

  I’M NOT READY to leave all that behind me.

  Molly carried another carton from her car into the community center. The place was hopping, and she shouldn’t even be here. But Pop had missed delivering the donations after all.

  “What do you mean, you forgot?” she’d asked. “You and Brig promised to
take the stuff days ago—and there’s a ton. With Ann and the rest of my staff helping, we really cleaned out Little Darlings.” Making room, Molly hoped, for new items in the wished-for expansion.

  “Brig was on the phone or that computer of his all the time,” Pop said. “I hardly saw him. We’ll do it tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow was here. Molly had taken time off from work again to make sure Natalie couldn’t fault her for not making the almost-too-late donations. She fought her way through a group of ladies from the church who were setting up a display of crocheted pot holders. She doubted they were castoffs. Over time the twice-a-year rummage sale had become a half discarded items, half crafts fair. Molly had happy memories of coming here with her mother, playing hide-and-seek under the tables with other kids, then, as she got older, “graduating” to actually helping out.

  Still upset with Pop, who was outside with Brig unloading the car, she almost didn’t see Natalie bustle over from a booth, selling raffle tickets for a huge, shrink-wrapped basket with a springtime theme. Wearing an emerald-green tracksuit, she stepped into Molly’s path.

  “I’d given up hope,” she said, eyeing the box in Molly’s arms. “Let me show you to your location.” Before Molly could say a word, Natalie rushed toward the far corner of the large room. The rumble of people talking everywhere, the clatter of glassware and china, the harsh blare of a toy horn made her ears ache. And so did Natalie’s words.

  Molly’s location?

  She set her burden down with a thud on the table Natalie pointed at. “I thought you sorted all items into categories—toys, housewares, gifts, clothing, furniture—for your volunteers to sell.”

  “This year we decided to change things a bit.”

  Here we go, Molly thought. “Natalie, I hope I’m not expected to man this booth.” She’d planned to simply drop her donations and go.

  “Didn’t you get our flyer in the mail?” Another oversight on Molly’s part. “They went out a month ago. No one else has objected,” she said.

  “I’m not sure I can spare the time.”

  Natalie patted Molly’s aching arm. “You’ll find a way, dear. Thomas can pitch in,” she added, then hurried off to badger someone else.

  Molly wondered if the whole idea of this exercise was to get her father out of the house and close to Natalie. With a booth to manage, Molly would have to press Ann, who was watching Laila today, into service, which meant giving her a ride to the community center. Maybe other Little Darlings staff could donate a few hours, too. Frowning, Molly rummaged—not to make a pun—through the box of toddler toys, most of which looked the worse for wear. Maybe she should have crocheted a few new pot holders.

  “Trouble?” Brig shoved the box aside to set his first carton on the table. Like the muscles in his arms, the box bulged, but with board games. A blue ball rolled around on top, threatening to fall out and bounce across the floor.

  Remembering their discussion about his military service, Molly moved a few inches away from him.

  “I’ve been sandbagged,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “Natalie has ‘donated’ my time. Apparently I’m to stand behind this table for two days—and try to sell every piece we hauled over here.”

  “It’s your civic duty,” he said with a smile in his voice.

  “I suppose. We all have our duties, don’t we?”

  With that, Molly marched off toward the exit and her car to retrieve another load. To her utter irritation, their last eye-opening conversation shouldn’t have surprised her, yet it had. That didn’t give her the right to snap at Brig. He actually loved the heat of battle, pitting his strength and skills against an enemy, another reminder of how different they really were.

  As she reached the door, Pop came through it carrying a well-used porta-crib, his face red and his breathing labored. Why hadn’t he picked something lighter and less bulky?

  Brig brushed against Molly’s shoulder. “Let me get that, Thomas.”

  “Think you’re the only one here with muscle?” Pop said.

  He was about to argue further when he glanced over Molly’s shoulder—and spotted Natalie. Molly didn’t see her, but there was no mistaking the woman’s voice.

  “Thomas Walker, you sit down right now. Your face is as red as Santa Claus’s coat. No one is having a heart attack on my watch.”

  “She’s right,” Brig said. “Here’s a chair that’s not being used. You rest while Molly and I get the other donations.”

  Natalie moved in to hover over Molly’s dad, who was panting.

  “Okay, okay,” he said, giving in more easily than Molly had expected. “Fuss all you want.”

  “He’ll be okay,” Brig told Molly. “Miss Brewster is obviously a force to contend with, but she’ll make certain he doesn’t do anything foolish.”

  He pressed a hand to her lower back, then steered Molly from the community center. His touch sent another wave of yearning through her, like that night in the snow, followed by a surge of resentment for the other night, before she could move away. In the parking lot he grasped her shoulder to turn her around. His gaze swept the area as if to make sure they weren’t about to be run over by any of the cars and pickup trucks streaming into the lot. “What’s the problem here, Molly?”

  “I’m a little peeved with Natalie, that’s all.”

  “That’s not all. Your face is an open book. Always has been.” He hesitated until several people carrying boxes of books went by. “I don’t blame you for being ticked because Thomas and I forgot to bring your donations.”

  “Well,” she said drily, “you were busy.”

  “I should have remembered anyway.”

  The commanding officer, she thought. The buck stops here.

  Molly’s tone tightened. “I know you’re worried about Laila,” she began.

  “Right now I’m more worried about you.” After skirting a parked compact sedan, loaded to the roof inside, he walked her to her SUV. “Is this about the other night? Because if it is, I want you to know, I was only trying to make you see where I’m coming from.”

  Molly attempted to brush the remark away. “No, I understand. I myself am troubled about Laila. In a perfect world she’d have a home with you—” pause “—but the world is far from perfect.”

  “And so am I,” he murmured. “Is that what you’re really saying? Don’t even try to back down, Molly, and tell me that my job is important. I already know that.” Brig turned away. When he swung back to her, he said, “Look. Nobody would like more than I would to take care of that baby every day, every minute, until she leaves for college. But that isn’t what I do, Molly.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “And you saw me when I got back to Liberty. I couldn’t even manage a diaper change. I almost scalded her with that first bottle in the microwave.”

  “You’ve learned since then,” she said, “and I know you’ve been reading those books from the center every night—when Laila isn’t up crying.”

  “Come on. Stop pulling your punches.” Fight like a man.

  “What I mean is—”

  “I know what you mean. I know exactly what you think of me. I’ve known it for eight blasted years!” His eyes had darkened until the blue was all but gone. “I still feel guilty about you, and now Laila. That make you feel better, Molly? But there’s nothing I can do now except find someone to care for—and love—Laila when I have to be gone.”

  “In a perfect world,” she repeated, then, “that might be me. And Pop.”

  As soon as the words spilled out, Molly clamped her mouth shut. She hadn’t meant to say that, but Brig studied her for a too-long moment, as if he’d never thought of the same solution. But he must have, even if Molly couldn’t possibly offer to take Laila on any kind of longer-term basis, until Brig decided to “hang it up” at last. She wasn’t that big a fool. That would be more difficult t
han their brief trip to Indiana when she had struggled not to imagine being Laila’s mother and Brig’s... No, she wouldn’t even think that.

  He glanced at the gravel under his feet. “Let’s get your rig unloaded. I need to get back to the house—”

  Before he finished, his cell phone rang.

  Brig turned away to take the call, and Molly moved to the trunk of her car to give him privacy. Could it be one of his superiors, ordering him back to Washington and then elsewhere? She had just hefted another box filled with baby clothing and a few left-behind winter jackets when Brig joined her again.

  “Great news,” he said. “I hope,” he added, their almost quarrel set aside for now. “That was Sean’s cousin. She wants to come to Liberty. To meet Laila.”

  * * *

  ANN FUSSED AGAIN with the smaller items on the Liberty Courthouse rummage sale table. She couldn’t imagine why she’d let herself get talked into working when she needed time to clean her apartment, walk to the grocery store and do her laundry. But she had decided to make the best of it. Molly did a lot for her beyond giving her a lift whenever she needed one. This was Ann’s chance to repay part of her debt.

  She rearranged a collection of toy miniature cars. They were Ernie’s favorite, and the thought of him reminded her of Jeff. You can tell yourself anything you like....

  To her surprise, as if she’d conjured him up, a familiar little boy called out, managing to make himself heard above the din in the high-ceilinged room.

  “Miss Ann! Hi!”

  Ernie raced the length of the big room, bumping into people and threading his way at waist height through the crowd to her table. Excitement danced in his eyes. He stopped just short of plowing into the display Ann had been arranging.

  “Good morning,” she said with a smile that was always automatic when she saw him. “How are you, young Mister Barlow?”

  “I’m fine!”

  Ann fought the urge to skirt the table and scoop him up for a hug. She could never resist him, even when she tried to block out his father. And wouldn’t you know? Here came Jeff, looking handsome in a rust-toned rugby shirt that brought out the color of his eyes. Today’s Western-style boots made him seem even taller than usual. His journey from the front entrance to the far corner took a while, in contrast to Ernie’s. People kept stopping Jeff to pump his hand or clap him on the shoulder. Clearly he was popular with the locals as the new sheriff’s deputy. Natalie Brewster talked his ear off for a good two minutes before he smiled and moved on.