by Geri Krotow
She parked in the lot in front of Applebee’s, her mom’s favorite lunch spot, and checked out who the caller had been. It was a new number. She returned the call, in case it was about one of the girls.
“Hello.” A deep male voice.
Max.
“This is Winnie. Did you call?” Of course he’d called.
“Hi, Winnie. Can you meet me for coffee today? In Oak Harbor, if it’s convenient for you. I’m in meetings at the base most of the day but I have an hour and I wanted a chance to talk to you alone before I see you and the girls on Friday.”
“You get right to the point, don’t you, Max?”
“I think I’m allowed to, Winnie.”
Winnie didn’t know if she hurt from old wounds Max was opening or if they were new gashes. The self-recrimination she’d carried for keeping Maeve from him ballooned within her.
“Do you have time today?”
“Yes. I’m meeting my mother for lunch at Applebee’s, but then I’ll have about forty-five minutes before I should get back home.”
“Where is Maeve?”
“She’s at day care, and then my friend’s picking her up for a playdate.”
“Who’s your friend?” The possessive note in his voice annoyed yet satisfied her motherly instincts.
“She’s trustworthy, Max. Do you think I’d turn my daughter over to a freak?”
“No, but our daughter is my concern now, too.”
What could she say to that?
“Winnie?”
“I’m here. I’ll meet you at the coffeehouse by the theater at two.”
“Two o’clock. Got it.” He disconnected.
Sadness washed over her. It was no surprise that Max was angry; she’d expected it. The relationship they’d once had was severed, though, and that hurt more than she’d realized it would.
After Tom died, she’d learned to rely on Max as a good friend. She knew she could ask him for anything without any sense of “owing” him, but in her heart she’d be forever indebted to him. He’d never crossed the line of their friendship, never demanded more from her.
Of course she hadn’t known that he’d seen her as anything other than Tom’s widow at that point. No matter what he said about noticing her before, when she and Tom were just starting off as a couple.
She and Max had trusted each other. Even after that night of lovemaking, she’d known their friendship would always be there—if she wanted it to.
She’d destroyed it. Max would never trust her again.
Winnie pulled into the long drive that led up to Alexa Howard’s alpaca and sheep farm. Alexa was one of the widows who’d lost her husband in the same crash that had killed Tom. She’d recently built a fiber mill in an old barn on her property—a cornerstone for Whidbey Fibers. At least with clients like Alexa, Winnie was able to completely be herself and enjoy her work. Right now, she needed to immerse herself in something other than worries about Max or her mother, if just for a few minutes, before she drove into Oak Habor.
* * *
“ROBYN SAID YOU were over on Monday.” Barb stirred a sugar substitute into her iced tea while she kept her laser gaze firmly fixed on Winnie.
“Yeah, I had a half hour to spare after a client appointment and you know we both love our Thai takeout.”
“I was home.”
“Sorry, Mom. Sometimes we need sister-only time, you know.”
“It just seems like it’s always sister-only time with you two.”
Winnie hid her frustration by sipping her herbal tea. She loved island coffee as much as anyone but didn’t need caffeine before her meeting with Max. She was on overdrive already. Mom wasn’t helping her nerves any, either.
“How are the girls?” Barb sounded like she hadn’t seen Krista and Maeve for eons when they’d all had dinner on Sunday. They met at Barb and Hugh’s big water-view home every Sunday afternoon.
“Great.” She deliberately left out any mention of Max as she relayed the events of the past two days to her mother, detail by detail.
“Maeve is so much more like you every day. Krista’s got Tom’s common sense and steady balance in her approach to life. But Maeve, she’s a firecracker!”
Winnie laughed. “Yes, she is.”
“Are you still glad you did it, Winnie?”
“Mom!” They’d been over this time and again. She wasn’t going to give her mother the information on Maeve’s father until she was ready to.
“I have a right to know, Winnie. Maeve is my granddaughter, too.”
“Mom, please—does it always have to be about you?” Tears sprang up. Tears of frustration and anger that she’d never shed in front of her mother rolled down her cheeks before she could swipe at them with her napkin.
“I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Of course you did.
“Don’t worry about it, Mom.”
Barb didn’t respond but picked up her fork and dug into her Penn Cove mussel salad.
Winnie took several shaky breaths and tried to focus on her fish chowder but it was useless. Her appetite was gone.
“Your brothers will both be here this weekend. They finagled some time off and are coming home to see us on Sunday. Isn’t that great?”
Her brothers were both studying medicine in the Washington D.C. area.
“Yes, Mom.”
* * *
BARB REMINDED WINNIE about Sunday dinner before giving her a quick hug and drove off in her Mini Cooper.
Winnie loved her family and knew she owed them more than she’d told them about Maeve, but the girls needed some boundaries and Winnie was the one to enforce them. After having all her emotions exposed to the world after Tom died, she’d desperately craved privacy. Anyway, Barb would know who Maeve’s father was soon enough. She wanted—no, needed—to tell Max first. It was the least she owed him.
She’d never seen herself as a victim, not after the initial period of grief and shock. So she hadn’t indulged in any “poor me” thoughts after Tom died. But she had to admit, if just to herself in this windy parking lot, that keeping Maeve’s father’s identity from everyone, including Max—especially Max—was perhaps the most self-centered thing she’d ever done.
Max could have died in Afghanistan and never known he’d been a father. Never seen Maeve’s eyes, identical to his, stare back at him.
At the time, she hadn’t had a choice. She couldn’t risk Max’s life by letting him know something so fundamentally life-changing when he was in the middle of fighting for his life, for the squadron’s safety.
She’d made that fatal mistake with Tom.
Max had been injured, anyhow, despite the care she’d taken not to confuse him with such shocking news.
You couldn’t stop it from happening.
Short of putting on running shorts and shoes, Winnie did the only thing that could ease her pain. She walked toward the beach.
Although the wind bit at the tips of her ears and neck, by the time she reached City Beach the water was calm and tranquil. On the eastern side of the island, it was as smooth as glass compared to the side that took in the wind as it swept through the Strait of Juan de Fuca. She sat on a hollow log washed up from the storm surge. Ducks splashed about in the shallow shore waters while cormorants dove for their lunch just yards away, where the water was cold and deep.
Sam usually accompanied her on her trips to the beach and she longed for the distraction of playing fetch with his floatable ball.
Distraction.
That was her motto for the years after Tom’s death and then again after Maeve was born. She had no regrets about the girls and the way she was raising them. While building a solvent business and developing her community volunteerism as a canine-therapy handler she’d enjoyed each minute she could with her kids.
Maeve was only eighteen months old; she’d grow up thinking she’d always known her father.
Krista was more fragile. She needed time. She’d been furious and downright d
isgusted when she’d caught them kissing in the kitchen. Yet she loved Max and appeared to take the fact that he was Maeve’s father in stride.
Winnie kicked at rocks on the beach with the toe of her leather boots. It was almost too warm out here with the sunshine and shelter from the harsh breeze. She turned back. She had to walk over to the coffee shop and Max.
* * *
MAX GOT THROUGH HIS business with the base support staff with only a few minutes to spare until his meeting with Winnie. He worked three days per week as the Administrative Support Officer for the base. Full-time was in his near future—he just needed a final approval from his therapist and his assigned Flight Surgeon.
He felt crushed that as a senior Navy Commander on active duty, he had to get medical clearance for every damned step he took. No one trusted his judgment that he was ready for full-time.
He made it to the coffee shop in record time and pulled his Jeep Cherokee into the sole empty parking spot in front. Even though Oak Harbor was a small town, its favorite places stayed busy all day, every day.
When he entered the shop, the bell that hung on the door tinkled next to his ear. His gaze homed in on Winnie immediately. She sat straight-backed in one of the cozy booths, studying the menu. He knew better. She was trying to give him the impression that she was oblivious to him.
He looped his khaki uniform cover—hat to a civilian—under his belt and walked over to the table. She raised her head with that stupid pretend-blank look on her face.
“Oh. Hi, Max.”
“Winnie.” He slid into the seat opposite her.
“What can I get you folks?” A college-age girl with multiple facial piercings stood, hands on hips, waiting for their order.
“Winnie?”
“I’ll have an Americano, cream on the side.”
“Same, but black.”
“Be just a minute.” The girl turned and went back to the espresso bar.
Max studied Winnie for a long moment. Her blond hair was curly as always and she had it styled in a sexy cut that framed her face. A few stray curls, however, sprang out from behind her ears. Her white blouse hinted at cleavage with the buttons just a tad too tight across her breasts.
He remembered how full and soft they’d been under his palms. He’d sworn her skin glowed in the pearl moonlight of the hotel room where they’d spent that night.
“What?” Her impatient tone reminded him that he had no business thinking of Winnie as a lover anymore. How could he ever make love to the woman who’d kept his child from him for nearly two years? He’d never even seen her pregnant, her belly swollen with his baby.
No, Winnie was not an option as a lover.
You’ll never be able to trust her.
He’d have to live with his body’s conflicted feelings about that.
“I’m still trying to process why you kept this from me for so long. I know we lost touch, and that’s my fault. I should’ve kept calling you after the Air Show, should’ve come back here to see you.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered, Max.”
“What do you mean ‘it wouldn’t have mattered’? I would’ve gone to war knowing I had a daughter to come back to!” He leaned back from the table and gazed out on the parking lot. He was using every tool he’d learned over the past six months in therapy and rehab to keep his emotions in check and stay focused on what really counted.
Maeve. Krista.
“I would never have told you before you went to war, Max. You didn’t need the distraction.”
“Still playing God, Winnie?”
Her eyes widened and the familiar red crept up her neck. He’d hit his target.
The jolt of satisfaction he’d anticipated didn’t occur.
“Look, let me start over.” He put his hands back on the table.
“After our night together, I felt that maybe we’d rocked our worlds a bit too much, and the last thing I wanted to do was pressure you into more than what we’d had that night. I was at the end of deployment workups and ready to take off for Afghanistan for the first time. I didn’t think it’d be fair to you or Krista to push you for more.”
She eyed him with a measured look that he wasn’t used to seeing from her. The look of a wise woman, not the girl he’d met all those years ago in the O Club.
“What, Winnie? Tell me.”
The waitress brought their coffee and he gratefully wrapped his hands around his mug. He didn’t care if it burned his palms.
Winnie offered him a half smile.
“I think it’s clear that I’m the one who’s done the screwing up around here.” Her voice wasn’t full of self-pity but regret. He saw the wistful glimmer in her eyes.
“I told you I’d denied the pregnancy as long as I could. But when the second month went by, I bought a home pregnancy test kit.” She waved her right hand and looked at him.
He nodded.
“I still thought it was some kind of mistake. I mean, we’d used protection and only had that one…problem.” She didn’t say that one of the condoms had broken in the middle of the night. They both knew it. “I wasn’t even ovulating then, for heaven’s sake. I really believed we were in the clear.”
“You told me we were. I assumed you meant you were on the Pill. The condoms were for safe sex more than birth control, I thought.”
“The Pill? No, I stopped taking it years ago. Tom and I had been trying to get pregnant—” Her mouth clamped shut. He hated that the ease between them was gone. Had been since the night he’d decided to go to bed with her.
Looking back, he would’ve expected to wish they hadn’t made love, hadn’t ruined their friendship. But that had been one hell of a night, and it’d produced what he felt was going to be his greatest accomplishment. His child. His baby daughter.
Their baby.
“I’m not going to pussyfoot around this, Winnie. You didn’t tell me about Maeve, which, as I expressed last night, is unforgivable. It will no doubt forever be a wedge between us. But the one thing that matters more than anything that’s passed between us is Maeve. Maeve is my daughter and I have every intention of being a father to her.”
“And I have every intention of helping you make that happen. You’re going too fast, though. Relationships take time to build. Just because I messed up by not telling you doesn’t mean we should rush things. The girls need to be eased into this, especially Krista.”
“I don’t plan to come in like a bulldozer, Winnie. Give me a break, will you? Of course I’ll include Krista in everything with Maeve. It occurred to me that she hasn’t had much of a father figure, has she? Your brothers are scattered all over and your sister’s husband is probably too busy with his own child. There’s your dad, of course, her grandfather, but—”
“How do you know about Robyn’s son?”
“I may have not have seen you since I got back, Winnie, but I do have eyes and ears in my head. Word gets around on this island as quickly as it ever did.” He glanced at her.
“I’m surprised I didn’t hear about your baby.”
Her dumbstruck look made him want to hug her discomfort away and he almost swore out loud at himself. Damn it all, she’d held back the most important information of his life!
Deliberately.
Yet as he sat across from her, he felt—along with the anger—an intense desire to go to bed with her again. Had his PTSD taken away his pride?
He ignored that thought. From the feelings that looking at his daughter had stirred in him last night he was doing A-OK in the emotions department.
“I just heard about Robyn and Doug through the grapevine.” He paused, then added, “However, I didn’t hear anything about you. And Maeve.”
“Oh.” She blinked. Her chest rose and fell as though she was taking deep breaths before swimming the length of a pool underwater. Her face shone with perspiration and the color of her skin matched her white blouse.
Her guilt is not your problem.
“Look, Max, like I said, I’ve screw
ed up horribly. I don’t just mean in not telling you about Maeve, but also with the dog-therapy program. I understand that you’ve lost your trust in me and I’ll withdraw my name as your canine handler. There are other therapy teams at the base and any one of them would be able to help you.”
“Whoa. I never said anything about that. I know I still need to check the canine-therapy box and I will. With Sam.” At her mewl of protest he pushed harder. “You can’t abandon me on this one, Winnie. I don’t want to do any more therapy as it is. But I’ve got to show my therapist I’m willing to stay with it, keep improving. I’m finally close to getting back to work full-time.”
He knew he’d reached her when she looked down at her cup of coffee and then back at him, her eyes moist. “Okay, I suppose it’s the least I owe you. But the girls—Maeve—aren’t part of the therapy package, Max. If you want to get to know them and spend time with them, we’ll have to figure out something else.”
I already have.
“Fine. We can talk about it on Friday when you bring Sam over for the weekend.”
“I’ve been thinking about that, Max. I don’t want to bring the girls. It’s not right for them to be mixed up in your work with Sam.”
“Point taken. The girls shouldn’t be there when we’re working together. But as for bringing them when you drop Sam off—I don’t see the harm in that, Winnie. He’s their dog, too.”
He looked at his watch and then back at her. “I’ve got to go, and you do, too, don’t you?”
She gasped when she looked at her own watch. “I had no idea it’d gotten so late! I don’t like Krista being alone for more than a few minutes. I’ve got to go.” She stood so fast that she knocked over her empty coffee mug with her scarf. She reached into her purse and pulled out a bill.
“No, it’s on me. I called the meeting.” He closed his hand around hers, folding the bill back into her palm. Her skin was as soft as ever and her hand jerked in his.
Whether her reaction was caused by anxiety over needing to get to her girls or any remaining attraction she felt toward him, he didn’t know.
