by Geri Krotow
She smiled at him and he wished the smile was for him and not her dog. Still, he’d take what he could get.
“At first I took him to obedience classes with Krista. It was a family bonding time and it helped her with her self-esteem, which was shaky at best. That might have been due to my grieving and inability to bounce back from Tom’s death as quickly as some people thought I should.”
“Who thought you should have bounced back more quickly?” Maybe she’d never healed. Like him, maybe Winnie was forever affected by her loss.
“No one in particular, Max. It’s just that after the first few months of understanding and compassion, people get worn out by the exhausting nature of grief. They mean well, but have to get with their lives. And they can—they’re not the ones who lost a husband or father.”
He heard no rancor or self-pity in her voice.
“The same people who claim they’ll be there for you tend to fade away,” she added. “That’s been my experience.”
At his silence he saw her hand jerk suddenly and her spine straighten.
“I don’t mean you, Max! You were there through the worst of it and you left because of your job, not because you chose to.”
He let her words hang there. He’d sought the assignment in Florida, unbeknownst to Winnie. He’d had to. It’d been time to move on. He’d needed a career change.
Still, looking at the situation through Winnie’s eyes, he saw that he’d faded away. He’d abandoned her and Krista.
“Winnie, I know it was a difficult time for you. I—”
“No, Max. Enough! You were there for me and you went above and beyond the call of duty. You are not who I’m talking about, period.”
He didn’t say anything else, simply allowed her to continue.
“So in an effort to continue the healing process, Krista and I went to more and more dog-training classes. Sam passed the basic Good Citizenship test from the American Kennel Club, and then I heard on National Public Radio that canine therapy was helping vets when they got back. The rest,” she said with a flourish, “is history.”
Max remained silent. He’d forgotten how much positive energy could be emitted by someone so enthusiastic about his or her vocation.
Bullshit. You’ve forgotten what it feels like to be around Winnie—to feel alive.
“You’re the greatest, aren’t you, boy?” Winnie cooed at Sam and the dog merely pricked his ears toward her. He still lay at Max’s feet.
“How long did it take you to train him to behave like this?” He nodded at the dog.
Winnie’s eyes widened. “Train him? Oh, no, Max, I didn’t train him to do this. It’s the intuitive streak I told you about. He knows who needs his comfort the most, and he knows when we’re in ‘work’ mode. He’s taken to you because he wants to, not because of anything I’ve done.”
“So what does that mean?”
“What does it mean? I don’t follow you.”
“The fact that he’s stuck to me like a barnacle ever since he jumped out of your car. Is he guarding you? Protecting you from me by keeping me in my place?”
Winnie leaned forward and placed her hands over Max’s tense fingers. He involuntarily jumped at the awareness that shot up his forearms.
“Max, he’s lying next to you because he senses you need him. And to be frank, judging by Sam’s behavior, you’re one of the neediest clients I’ve dealt with this year.”
Her words slammed through him almost as quickly as his reaction to her touch. But they didn’t elicit lust like her touch did. Instead, he felt only white-hot rage.
He pulled his hands out from under hers and shoved himself back from the table.
“F— Ah, shit, damn it!” He fought to control it, to control the cold stranglehold of fear.
He’d really wanted this meeting to go without a hitch.
CHAPTER THREE
WINNIE WATCHED THE cyclone of emotion twist Max’s handsome face. The only thing recognizable as “Max” was the sharp hue of his eyes.
Crapola.
Big mistake. She’d thought that by putting the focus on Max and his work with Sam, she’d be able to push aside her reaction, the quaking that was a direct result of her attraction to Max. Wrong. Their physical chemistry still made her toes curl in her comfy shearling boots.
“Needy? So this is a pity call for you, Winnie?” Max snapped. She was almost surprised that spittle didn’t shoot out of his mouth.
She sighed and grasped for the right thing to say. Like fired bullets, she couldn’t retract her words or the damage they’d caused.
“I’m sorry, Max. I was speaking too freely. Sometimes my mouth isn’t connected to my brain. I guess I’m still missing that filter you’ve always teased me about not having.”
Her jibe at herself didn’t work, either. He stayed silent, simmering with rage.
Pointing out their long-standing relationship and all its baggage—that was the stupidest comment she could have made. She needed to rely on their common bonds if she was going to salvage anything of their friendship once he knew about Maeve.
Double crapola.
He ran his fingers through his short hair. The same dark, straight hair Maeve had.
“Damn it, Winnie, I know I must still need some work or you wouldn’t be sitting here in front of me—my doc wouldn’t have suggested it. But I’m not totally mental. I’ve come a long way and what I’ve been through doesn’t come close to what so many other vets are suffering. Hell, I feel guilty taking your time.” His eyes shifted uneasily to Sam. “And this dog’s time. There are a lot of sailors who need Sam more than I do.”
“This is about you, Max. Sam sees plenty of other sailors, and there are other therapy dogs, too. You’re not keeping him from anyone else.” A white lie, as there was always another veteran in line, hoping to benefit from Sam’s ministrations, but she needed Max to buy in to her rationale—and the value of her work—if it was going to help him at all.
“Why did you get involved with this, Winnie? You can’t enjoy the constant reminder of Tom’s death whenever you drive on base. For that matter, why did you stay in Whidbey this long? And why the hell did you agree to see me? Didn’t you tell the social worker you already knew me?”
Take it easy. He’s just angry at the situation, not you.
But his words hit home. They struck the part of her that she kept cordoned off from everyone. The Navy widow part. Where she hid the knowledge that she could never handle another trauma.
Still…she might have to. His anger wasn’t personal yet, but when she told Max the secret she’d kept from him, his anger would be directed at her. He’d have every reason to accuse, convict and sentence her.
“You know why I stayed, Max. I love it here, my roots are here. I didn’t want to move up to Anacortes, and I still don’t. And I don’t live in Oak Harbor anymore—I have a nice home in Coupeville, near my shop and office. If you saw where we live, you’d understand why I stayed.”
“‘We,’ Winnie? Are you living with your daughter’s father?”
“No, I already told you, I don’t have a relationship with Maeve’s father.”
He didn’t reply, but when she raised her eyes to meet his, she froze. He could look at her as no one else could.
He knows.
Dark spots floated in her vision and she realized she was holding her breath. She released it in a measured exhalation, trying not to let him see that she was distressed.
“I never took you for the casual-sex type, Winnie.”
“Except after the Air Show two years ago?”
“We didn’t have casual sex, Winnie. It was a surprise, a shock even, but not casual.”
This is too close. He’s going to ask, he’s going to figure it out.
“Who says it was casual? Really, Max, at this point it’s none of your business.” Another lie, as Maeve was completely his business, but Winnie had to save that conversation for another time.
Drawing on what she’d learned duri
ng those first painful months after Tom’s death, she looked for the next task she needed to do. She had to tell him about Maeve, but not at this moment. He was too stressed, too wound up. She couldn’t risk putting him over the edge with his PTSD.
So now you’re God? An expert at deciding when someone needs to know what is most definitely his business?
“Why don’t we drop this, Max, and you and Sam go for a walk out on the paths?” She meant the myriad dirt walkways that snaked through the often-lush island vegetation. The water of Skagit Bay lapped against the rocky beaches and Mount Baker stood off to the east, its aquamarine glacier visible on clear days.
She hoped that if Max and Sam went for a walk, the high emotion between her and Max would diffuse. Maybe she’d find the courage to do the right thing and tell him the truth, even if it was more than two years too late.
But Max wasn’t finished with their conversation. His unhappiness was evident in his clenched fists, tight jaw and shallow breathing. She studied him and wondered how they were ever going to get past this tension.
Seconds later, he visibly relaxed his body by rolling his shoulders. He bowed his head, and she wondered if he was saying a prayer.
Max, a praying man?
She’d never met a pilot who wasn’t a believer, but Max had never demonstrated a predisposition toward any particular religious faith.
He lifted his head, and his gaze rested on her, without the rancor she’d seen moments earlier.
“I’m sorry for acting out on you, Winnie. My control over my temper is still a work in progress, or so I’m told.” His lips twitched and she thought he might smile, but it was obviously too much effort. He’d aged over the past two years; she saw it now in the resigned expression that made the lines on his face deeper than she recalled.
Max looked sad, she realized.
“It’s fine, Max. Now let’s get you out there with Sam.”
“I move a bit slower than I used to. He’s not going to pull me over, is he?”
She offered him her best smile. “Not if I can help it.”
* * *
SHE WATCHED MAX LEAD Sam onto the path across the road from his driveway. They made an interesting pair, she had to admit. A tall warrior who moved with the gait of a man twenty years older than he was, flanked by seventy pounds of exuberant dog.
Sam could be trusted to stay close to Max and match his stride. It’d taken months of repetitive training, but she’d finally communicated to him the need not to pull, to allow whoever had his leash to be the alpha “dog.”
Tears pricked at her lids and she turned her face up to the sky. She couldn’t keep watching Max and Sam together or Max would come back to a puddle of tears.
The beauty of Sam’s ability to relate to injured vets never ceased to move her. She often felt tears of pride and joy well up as the dog worked with a client, bringing out healing and survivor instincts that even the most highly trained therapists had been unable to reach.
But this wasn’t just another client. It was Max, and Max would forever be a part of her life. Not to mention Maeve’s.
You have to tell him. Now.
CHAPTER FOUR
“HE NEVER ASKED how old Maeve is?”
Robyn’s auburn curls sprang into her eyes and she brushed them away with an exasperated movement. Winnie sat with her sister on the sectional couch that occupied most of the family room in Robyn and Doug’s traditional home in Anacortes.
“No.” Winnie dug into her white container of Thai noodles and avoided eye contact with Robyn. Sam was curled up at her feet and she rubbed his belly with her toes.
Robyn was the only other person on earth who knew who Maeve’s father was because Winnie trusted her, and Robyn hadn’t let her down, which was a spectacular accomplishment considering the inquisitive nature of their family.
But Max’s return to Winnie’s life had put a knot in her stomach. Robyn had remained hands-off and kept her opinions to herself when Winnie had the baby and while Max wasn’t in the picture. Now Robyn’s impatience was reflected in her questions.
“I still don’t get why you went over there knowing it was him if you weren’t going to tell him about Maeve.” Robyn fixed her with a stern look. “Which, by the way, you should’ve done two years ago.”
Winnie stopped stroking Sam with her foot and swallowed a forkful of noodles whole.
“I know your opinion, Robyn. I don’t need to hear it again. Don’t you think I do a good enough job of beating myself up?”
When Robyn’s mouth opened, Winnie held up her hand.
“I did go over there to tell him. And I really meant to. But then he started talking about things that upset him. He almost lost his temper and I sent him for a walk with Sam.”
Sam’s ears pricked up at the mention of his name.
She put down the container of noodles and leaned against the back of the red suede couch, pulling her knees up to her chest.
“I thought it would be easier to tell Max in his house, without Maeve there. I also want to be able to help him with Sam. I owe him.”
“If you owe him anything, it’s the truth. You’re holding back the most valuable, important information of his life.” Robyn’s criticism chafed at Winnie’s patience.
“He doesn’t know that yet, Robyn. He was the best CACO at the worst of times. I’ll always be grateful to him for what he did for Krista and me.” In the aftermath of Tom’s death, Max had taken on the duty of Command Assistant Casualty Officer. His duty had been to see her through every aspect of her new, unwanted status as a military widow. From the funeral arrangements to walking her across the chapel parking lot after the service to making sure she and Krista received all the survivor benefits due to them—Max did it all.
He’d also been Tom’s best friend and had grieved for Tom more than anyone besides Winnie, Krista and his family.
“He got me through so much, Robyn. When I was acting crazy, trying to keep my mind off the pain. And when I found out he’s the one who needs the canine therapy, I felt I had to return the favor.” She paused. “No, that’s not completely true, either. Ever since I found out he was back in Whidbey, I knew I had to tell him.”
Winnie sent her sister a weak smile. Robyn’s expression remained stern.
“I’ve completely blown this,” she went on. “I would have, should have, told him I was pregnant, but he was on his way to war and I thought it’d be awful to contact him when I hadn’t replied to his calls after the Air Show. His deployment was extended, and six months turned into nine. Then he got injured and was on the East Coast for rehab. I couldn’t tell him when he was going through so much, could I?”
“Of course you could have.” Robyn could be so unyielding.
“I planned to go out there a few months ago, remember?” She’d decided to fly to D.C., find Max in the rehab center where he was spending his initial recovery period and tell him.
“Yes, I remember. But then you found out he was on his way back to Whidbey—it was in the paper. I’ve been here the whole time, Winnie. I haven’t missed any of this.” Robyn rolled her eyes. “You’re taking the risk that he’ll figure out about Maeve before you tell him. Then he’ll absolutely never trust you again.”
Winnie ignored the white-hot fear that pierced her gut, telling herself that Robyn had been the college drama major, after all.
“Don’t be so melodramatic. I’m risking nothing. Okay, so Max might put two and two together. But will he want a future with us at all? With his daughter? Doubtful. As good a man as Max is, he’s been a loner all these years. He’s not going to change now.”
“Are you really believing what you’re saying, sis? We’re talking about Max, the guy who would’ve given his left arm to keep you and Krista safe after the accident. Finding out you’re a parent changes everyone, and Max especially would want to be part of his daughter’s life. Plus, it’ll take about a minute for Tom’s family to come charging back in, looking for custody if they think that what you’re d
oing isn’t in Krista’s best interests.”
“They were acting out of grief. They’re over it.” Winnie’s in-laws had initially suggested that Winnie and Krista move to Oklahoma after Tom’s death, so they could be near their granddaughter. Never the most congenial of couples, they’d gone so far as to hint that there were legal steps they could take.
The Navy, namely Max, had come to her rescue again by ensuring that Winnie had complete legal custody of Krista. He’d made it clear to Tom’s parents that Tom’s wishes and Winnie’s legal right was that she be the one to raise Krista.
Tom’s parents had finally acquiesced, but not before implying that they’d pounce the moment they thought Winnie was doing anything harmful to Krista or to the memory of her father.
Winnie was grateful they’d calmed down once they realized that if they wanted to see Krista it would be at Winnie’s discretion. They’d since had cordial visits together two or three times a year, either in Oklahoma or on Whidbey.
Robyn had never trusted them.
“They may have backed out, but they’re lying in wait, honey, have no doubt. The minute they find out you’re involved with someone else but not married, they’ll ring their lawyer. You’re lucky they never pressed the issue when Maeve was born.”
True. Winnie knew the only reason Tom’s parents hadn’t made a fuss and hadn’t tried to reopen their custody case was that they wanted to believe Maeve was their biological granddaughter, too. They’d picked up on Winnie’s parents’ theory that Tom had frozen sperm in case he died—always a risk with a military career.
Winnie had let them believe whatever they wanted. As long as it kept them off her back and out of court… .
“Win, you need to tell Max. Maybe you should even consider stopping by his place again on the way home.”
Winnie sighed and picked up her container of lemongrass chicken. “Don’t worry about it, Robyn.”
