by Geri Krotow
And the boy—Pepé. Jonas didn’t like the twinge of envy he’d felt when Pepé smiled and ran to Doc Franklin. He used to be the practitioner kids loved, the one who loved taking care of kids, but after the past several months of deployment, he couldn’t look at a child and not feel the immediate wash of sorrow that’d become too familiar to him.
“Please call me Jonas. I’m sorry I haven’t contacted you yet. I’ve been home a short time, and I didn’t want to stop by the house without calling first.”
Had she heard him stumble over the word house? Or was it just his imagination that referring to the farmhouse as anything but his or his family’s caused him pause?
She held her hand up to stop his meager attempt at an apology.
“I think we’ve said all we needed to in our emails, don’t you?”
“No, not at all. Six months ago we were both in shock, and an email is never the same as meeting in person.”
He looked over to where Doc was goofing around with Pepé.
“I don’t want to have this conversation now, Serena—can I call you that? Not with Pepé here.”
“I imagine it would be difficult for you to ask me to give up our home while Pepé’s within earshot.”
Frustration made his vision blur as the goddess turned into a witch. An immediate ache in his chest opened up, spewing the ugly visions of children he hadn’t been able to save. Damn his post-deployment emotions. His ability to compartmentalize, the usual method of coping with unwanted emotions and allowing a warrior to focus on a mission, seemed to have evaporated the minute he landed back on Whidbey last week.
“I may deserve that, ma’am, but trust me, I’m not the bogeyman. I understand that you and Pepé have been through a lot. More than your share.”
Those brown eyes remained steady on him. Measuring him, assessing his integrity. He’d had stares from top admirals that weren’t as unnerving.
“As have you. And yes, you can call me Serena.”
Her tone held no recrimination, no pity. Dottie’s claim that Serena was “a gal with real class” rang through his mind. Thinking of Dottie, of her death, made him want to put his fist through the clinic wall.
“Dottie loved you so much. She never stopped talking about you.” As if she’d read his mind. As if she knew he needed that reminder of Dottie’s love for him.
“Funny, because she was the same way about you—she went on and on in her emails and our few phone conversations about how thrilled she was to finally have met you, to have closed the family circle by meeting her long-lost niece.”
Her eyes narrowed and she took a step back. “You’re right, Jonas. We need to have this conversation elsewhere.”
Her anger had melted into another emotion he didn’t want to consider. Sadness?
“Mom, Doc Franklin says I can go back to soccer next spring!”
“That’s nice, Pepé.” Her shoulders sagged and Jonas made a conscious effort not to offer her an arm, a shoulder of his own.
“What’s going on with Pepé?” If he was going to check her son in and probably see more of him in the clinic, he’d better do his best to be professional.
“He’s had a rash of ear infections. The last one took him out of the second half of soccer season. He loves soccer, as he’ll be sure to let you know any minute now.”
Her exasperated expression reflected her obvious love for Pepé.
“I understand. I get antsy when I can’t get to the gym. You two must have a special bond.”
A small line appeared between her brows and Jonas swore he tasted the bottom of his uniform boots. How many times could he say the wrong words in one afternoon?
“I’m sorry, Serena. Obviously small talk isn’t my forte any more than pediatrics is.”
She opened her mouth to speak but Doc interrupted them.
“Commander Scott, this is Pepé, my main man. I’ve known this kid since he moved on island last spring. He’s a champ. Pepé, this is Commander Scott, and he’s going to take care of you.” Doc raised his hand for Pepé’s high-five slap.
“Yes, sir.”
Jonas gritted his teeth for the fifteenth time in as many minutes. This wasn’t going to be easy. If Doc Franklin had made the connection between Serena and Jonas, he wasn’t talking. And Jonas wasn’t about to mention it now, not after already shoving his foot down his throat twice.
Jonas walked Pepé and Serena back to the check-in station. He gestured for her to take the seat next to the computer desk as he smiled at Pepé.
“Go ahead and scoot up on the table for me, buddy.”
“Am I going to get a sticker?”
“After I check your ears, sure.”
“You sounded angry about the stickers, Mr. Scott.”
“It’s Commander Scott, Pepé.”
Serena’s smooth correction made Jonas smile. He had to hand it to her—she was raising the boy to show respect and courtesy.
“If it’s okay with your mom, you can call me Jonas, Pepé. I’m not a doctor like Doc Franklin. I’m a nurse practitioner and I can take care of you, too.”
“Mom, is it okay?”
“Sure, mi hijo.”
Jonas didn’t like the tired lines under her eyes. He disliked more that he cared about her parental exhaustion.
This was the woman who Dottie had given his house to.
Best to stick to the basics.
“ID?”
She handed over her and Pepé’s military ID cards.
Jonas’s fingers flew over the keyboard as he automatically typed in Pepé’s last name, the active-duty sponsor’s social security number—
His hands stilled.
Delgado, Philip. Gunnery Sergeant, U.S. Marine Corps. Deceased.
He knew Serena was a war widow. That she had a son. But to read it, in black and white, made him wish he could have been there, could have saved her husband. Anything to take the sorrow from her eyes.
He looked back at her. Her gaze was intent on her son and Jonas waited for her to look back up at him. When she did he saw the cold edge of distrust in her eyes.
She’d never believe his thoughts—she’d assume he wished her husband had lived so that Dottie wouldn’t have left the house to her. As he typed in the pertinent information about Pepé, his mind kept going over his last conversation with Dottie.
“You’ll love Serena. It’s as though she’s always been here. And her son, Pepé, is a doll.”
“Mom, I don’t understand why you never met her before now.”
Dottie had been his stepmother but he’d always called her “Mom.”
“Your uncle was a troubled man ever since he was a teenager. My father sent him to his family in Texas to get his life together after his Navy time was up. Instead of working on the ranch, making a living, he got a girl pregnant—Serena’s mother—who never wanted anything more to do with him. Her family supported her and her new baby. Serena didn’t know she had a biological family on her father’s side until your uncle died.”
Dottie’s heart had been so big. She’d been a successful Realtor—a single, never-married woman, liberated for her generation. Until Jonas’s widowed father, more than a decade her junior, showed up with four little boys. After that, she’d become a devoted wife and mother without missing a beat.
It had always been understood that Jonas would get the farmhouse. Dottie had repeatedly promised it to him. She’d planned to move into a more senior-friendly condo in downtown Oak Harbor once he returned from his seven-month deployment.
Instead, she’d died at the hands of a murderer soon after changing her will to leave Serena and Pepé the house.
Would Dottie have done that if Serena had a husband and home to go back to in Texas?
They’d never know.
* *
*
SERENA WATCHED JONAS’S face closely. Only a quick intake of breath, a scant second’s pause, as he read over her military dependent ID card. She forced her shoulders to relax—he knew about her and Pepé; there was nothing to hide. His emails inquiring as to whether she’d be willing to sell the house to him hadn’t surprised her, but the strength of her reaction had.
She’d made it clear that it was her house now, and it wasn’t for sale. It was going to stay in the Forsyth family as Dottie had wished.
He’d never replied in full to her last refusal of his offer, sending her a one-liner stating that he’d come to meet with her once he returned from downrange.
When he looked back up at her now, she tried to glance past him at the computer screen, anywhere but at the eyes as blue as Texas bluebonnets, blazing with an intensity that made her blood feel like lava in her veins. This heat didn’t come from the anger she’d experienced moments before. It was the kind of heat that two people share when they’re attracted to each other.
Her hormones had been relatively dormant since Phil’s death. Why did they have to start humming now? With the man who wanted to take Dottie’s house from her?
Not for the first time since Dottie’s will was read, Serena wondered what Dottie had been thinking. She must have expected her change of plans to upset Jonas, her stepson. She’d betrayed the man to whom she’d originally promised the house.
Jonas handed her ID back to her and she reflexively reached for it. But he held on to it for a moment, and she forced herself to look at him again.
“Again, Serena, I’m sorry. I’m afraid you’ve caught me at my most butt-faced moment.”
“Hey, you’re not supposed to stay that word!” Pepé said in his high-pitched voice.
“You’re right, Pepé. I’m not using my best manners today.”
“You need a time out.” Pepé spoke matter-of-factly and Serena winced at how closely his tone mimicked hers. Did she sound that stern with him when he acted out?
“I need more than that, my man.” Jonas swiveled his stool in front of Pepé, who sat on the small, kid-size examination table.
“You’re not a doctor, right?”
“No, like I said, I’m a nurse practitioner, and I’ll be looking after you.”
“Okay.” Pepé’s ever-practical acceptance never ceased to awe Serena. Acceptance saved one from a lot of grief and sorrow.... “Pepé, what have we discussed about correcting adults?”
“You have to listen to your mother, buddy, but you’re a good man to call me on my bad language.” Jonas smiled at Pepé and Serena curled her toes.
Jonas Scott wasn’t so easy to write off as a man who’d get over the loss of the house once he adjusted to her and Pepé living there. He was fully alive, fully present. And she found him as handsome in person as the photos of him in Dottie’s house had hinted.
She gave Jonas credit; he didn’t cover it up when he made a mess of things. She’d keep her observation to herself, though. She didn’t know him well enough yet. He hadn’t been able to make it home in time for Dottie’s funeral; he’d been too far downrange, too deep in country. He’d told his brothers to go ahead with it and not to wait for him. The oldest brother, Paul, was an attorney and kept her informed all along of the process of Dottie’s murder investigation, Serena’s initial status as a possible suspect and then the reading of the will.
Paul had supported her because, by blood, Dottie was her aunt. Dottie had loved her and Pepé as if they’d been a part of one another’s lives forever and not the short six months they’d shared before Dottie died. Because Dottie had vouched for Serena and introduced her to the other Scott brothers and their families, Paul believed in her innocence. Serena had been quickly removed from the suspect list by the island sheriff, so she hadn’t needed Paul’s legal support, after all. But it had been nice to know someone had her back.
Paul had warned her that Jonas was a little more than surprised that the house wasn’t his. They were all shocked by it, in fact. Dottie had promised it to Jonas when he was a teenager, after his father died and left Dottie a widow.
“I was going to call you, Serena. I’ve only been back a little more than a week.” Jonas’s deep voice stopped the flood of memories.
Before she could reply, he turned his attention back to Pepé.
“Ready for the machine?” Jonas grinned at Pepé, who smiled.
Serena knew she should be grateful that at least Pepé was still around military men. As if it would somehow help keep his few memories of his father alive. Sadness welled and she cursed the ache in her heart for what might have been.
What should have been.
“Sure, Jonas!”
Jonas placed the small cuff on Pepé’s upper arm and pressed the button to start the blood pressure reading.
“Open up.”
Pepé opened his mouth, all the while staring at Jonas. Pain mingled with the regret she’d feel the rest of her life for what Pepé was missing by not having his own father around. The only emotional balm in all of it was that Phil had died when Pepé was barely four, so he didn’t remember a whole lot about his dad—and the memories of grief would fade. They’d already faded for him.
Unlike her.
“So what are you here for, buddy?” Jonas had pulled the thermometer out of Pepé’s mouth and entered the results into the computer.
“I had an ear ’fection but it’s better now. No more yucky medicine!”
“Okay, well, let’s see what your ears look like. He get a lot of these?” Blue eyes. Unblinking. Professional. No further discussion of the house they both wanted. That she owned. Not here.
She wanted to grab him and make those eyes glaze over with lust for her.
Maybe it was time to start dating again. Not Jonas, of course. Another man, who wasn’t off-limits to her.
“Ear infections? Not until we moved here over a year ago. This is his third one since then.”
“What convinced you to stay on Whidbey? It couldn’t have been just the house.”
She heard the veiled cleverness behind his casual conversation. As if he didn’t know.
“Life. Getting the house from Dottie was a dream come true.” That was plain mean. She opened her mouth to apologize, to appease her twinge of guilt.
“Well.” His eyes stayed cool and made it clear that, like her, he wasn’t going to share anything more personal. His focus was on Pepé.
Serena knew a moment of unabashed shame. She should give him a break. The poor guy had just come back from war, for heaven’s sake. His stepmother had died while he was gone, and he hadn’t been able to say a proper goodbye to the woman who’d raised him. Serena remembered seeing him in photos Dottie had scattered all around the house. In one photo, he’d been tall and well built in his Navy dress uniform, at his brother’s wedding.
All the photos were gone—the brothers had come and collected Dottie’s most personal belongings before Serena had a chance to take possession of the house. They’d left behind Dottie’s collection of knickknacks and a house that was falling apart at the seams, if she were brutally honest. It wasn’t anything she blamed Jonas’s family for, though. Dottie was too busy making the most of every single day to concern herself with the daily maintenance of an old farmhouse.
Dottie’s will and the fact that she’d given the house to Serena had become public knowledge only after Dottie’s funeral.
He’d been at war. He deserved to know why she was the one who’d gotten the house. Problem was, she didn’t know why Dottie had left it to her and Pepé, either. A legacy gift, yes, but at the risk of so much dissension in his family. Especially with Jonas Scott.
A quick knock sounded and a hospital corpsman popped her head around the door.
“Your next patient is ready in exam room three, Commander Scott.”
>
“Thanks, I’ll be there soon.” Jonas proceeded to examine Pepé’s ears, ignoring her presence.
Serena’s chance to smooth the way with Jonas evaporated.
CHAPTER TWO
Whidbey Island
January 1941
SARAH FORSYTH HAD seen a lot in her twenty-one years, more than most girls from Whidbey Island, Washington. She’d also found the love of her life in her husband, Henry, and enjoyed a life with him and her daughter that she had no desire to see upset with one of Henry’s crazy ideas.
“I’m a pilot and I’m the best man for the job, Sarah. My two years of college are all I need. I’m going to be an officer.”
Sarah tried to assimilate Henry’s words while keeping an eye on their daughter, Dottie, who was occupied with her rag doll near the woodstove. Their dinner plates were still on the table where they’d left them after Henry spoke the words that shattered their domestic tranquility.
“We agreed that you’d keep flying whenever you had a chance to make extra money, as long as it didn’t keep you gone for more than a week at a time. Now you’re talking about, what, going all over the world to save people? You have a family here, Henry. Your daughter needs you. She’s not even five yet!”
“Our country needs me, Sarah. If we don’t all pitch in, the Japanese are going to take over. If not them, the Germans. Do you want Sarah learning anything but English when she starts at the schoolhouse next fall?”
“I want Sarah to have her father!”
Rage welled in her, worse than when she’d fought him about moving back to his hometown in Texas instead of Whidbey Island. When he’d agreed to move to her family’s farmhouse in Washington State, she’d thought the flying bug was out of his system.
“Honey, I knew Texas was too far from your family, and I knew you wanted to move back to the farm. I’m happy here, and we’ll all be happy here again, when I get back. When this damn war is over and we can live in freedom again.” His eyes blazed with a conviction that made her shudder. This wasn’t another of Henry’s whims.
