The SEAL's Stolen Child

by Laura Marie Altom

  “If you’d made that observation before his death, we’d have rumble. Now…” She sidestepped a puddle. “I’d have to agree. So if he didn’t do it just to save his and my reputations, then why?”

  The day was fine. Hard to believe Christmas was only a few weeks away considering the temperature was almost eighty. Still, the park they strolled through had already been decorated and giant foil candy canes lined the brick path. A three-man crew worked on assembling a small, fanciful house Garrett assumed was for Santa. In days, the place would be crawling with carolers and cocoa and funnel-cake vendors. What hurt most of all were the families he imagined. Fathers walking alongside their wives, kids riding high on shoulders. Big hands holding little sticky ones while waiting in line to see old Saint Nick.

  Trying to shake off his funk, Garrett strove to change his focus, but that didn’t help his mood, either.

  The heat heightened Eve’s long-familiar, often-dreamed-about scent. For her sixteenth birthday, Hal had ordered her a custom perfume made in Paris. She must still wear it. Lily of the valley blended with snapdragons and orange blossoms topped by a dash of sweet mystery he’d never been able to read. As if forgetting the time and circumstances between them, his pulse raced just being near her.

  Garrett tried focusing on Hal’s motives, but thoughts of anything other than his companion refused to come.

  “Have any theories?” Eve asked. They’d reached the trail’s end at the city square’s far side.

  “Truthfully—” he glanced at her “—I’d rather talk about us.”

  “O-okay.” To say Eve was taken aback by Garrett’s words would’ve been a major understatement.

  A mom with a jogging stroller whizzed by. Her precious cargo was a chubby baby boy.

  For Eve, the pain of not having her own child never stopped. After two miscarriages with Matt, she’d believed herself incapable of ever having a healthy child—until now. “Only I wasn’t aware there was anything left to discuss.” They’d reached a wooden bench. Knees strangely weak, she sat.

  “You held all the power. At any time, you could’ve called me, but you didn’t. Why?”

  She closed her eyes, drinking in the sun’s warmth. “It’s complicated.”

  “My feeble, non-Barnesworth brain can handle it.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that…” Intending to reassure him, she pressed her hand to his thigh, but then their old chemistry kicked in and when their eyes met, the simple comforting gesture felt somehow more. “The times were different. When Daddy sent me away, I was ashamed. I thought the whole world hated me—you included.”

  “But you were having my baby. How could I have done anything but love you?”

  “I was sixteen. Alone in what was often a terrifying environment. I wasn’t like the other girls. I’d never shared a room with four people, or a bathroom with twelve. I’d never cooked or cleaned or washed my own clothes. That place changed me, and—” Eyes stinging from the force of holding back tears, she pressed her hands over them. Damn Garrett for dredging all this up one second earlier than necessary. Most every night spent in that home for unwed mothers, she’d dreamed of him charging to her rescue, but by the harsh light of day, she’d realized the futility of those dreams. Had she returned to Coral Ridge, the scandal would’ve mortified her father. She’d have been embarrassed, too, by her own lack of judgment. Garrett had been poised to entertain offers for football scholarships. His family couldn’t afford college. What if she had called him? Dragged him back into the mess that had become her life? She’d refused to stand in the way of his dreams.

  “Another thing you’ve never told me… If your dad hadn’t pulled this stunt, and you’d had a normal delivery, what then? Would you have called me? Or were you planning to give our child away? In which case, why does it even matter to you if our son lived or died?”

  Chapter Five

  It took every ounce of Eve’s long-bred restraint not to slap Garrett for his question. Or maybe it was more guilt. Shame. Yes, the plan her dad had so carefully made for her had included giving the baby to a nice family who couldn’t have one of their own, but the decision had always eaten her up inside. “O-on weekends, when Daddy came to visit, I’d mention thinking about you. How I thought you and I should talk about maybe keeping the baby. My father advised against it. Told me you’d moved on.”

  “And you believed him?” Garrett laughed, but the sound was hollow.

  “Why wouldn’t I?” She looked to her hands she held clenched on her lap. “Hal was my world.”

  “Funny.” Garrett stood. “All this time, I thought your world had been me. You were sure as hell mine.”

  Silent tears streamed her cheeks. “What do you want from me?”

  “I don’t know.” He approached her as if on the verge of wrapping her in a hug, but then stepped back. Hands in his jeans pockets, he said, “I begged my dad to ask one of his contacts at the police station to help find you—or at the very least, go with me to speak to your father. He refused. Said it wasn’t his business. Him and my mom had some pretty big fights about how this was their grandchild, and wasn’t my dad going to do anything about bringing him or her home.” Turning introspective, he sighed. “My folks rarely fought, so when they did, I remember. I’ll never forget my dad’s voice during their worst battle—it was the most angry I’ve ever heard him, but he never got loud. If anything, he was spooky quiet. He grabbed my mom by her arm, practically dragging her into their room before closing the door. The only parts of their conversation I heard after that were ‘drop it,’ and ‘you don’t know what he’s capable of.’ I never put two and two together, but do you suppose Hal was the reason behind my dad refusing to help find you?”

  “I don’t know.” Unsure what else to say, incensed by the question but mortified Garrett could be right, Eve turned toward the car. “We should get going. Rose is hopefully home by now.”

  “Sure.” He took the keys from his pocket, then strode in the direction of his car.

  Eve couldn’t begin to catch up, but then maybe that was what he’d wanted. Looking back on it, it had been unconscionable to even consider giving their child up for adoption without asking Garrett’s wishes, but nearly a decade earlier, times had been different—maybe not in big cities, but in Coral Ridge, tongues would still be wagging about an unwed sixteen-year-old mother.

  Why do you care?

  The question was innocuous enough, but it still stung. Hurting even worse was the fact that Eve honestly didn’t know. At the time, her love for her father had outweighed all else—sadly, even Garrett.

  * * *

  “ROSE PINCHERRE?” GARRETT asked the frail woman who answered the sad little house’s door. Eve stood behind him, brandishing cat food when what the woman really needed was a new roof and paint job.

  “Yes.” She peered around him to Eve. “Can I help you? Oh, my heavens…” Gnarled hands covering her mouth, the older woman shook her head. “Miss Eve Barnesworth. Is it really you?”

  Eve lost it.

  Considering their conversation in the park, the last thing Garrett wanted was to dole out sympathy to a woman who’d obviously had none for him, but his mother’s training ran deep and no way was he just going to stand there watching her cry for a second time that day.

  Garrett held her to him, giving her the privacy of hiding her face against his chest. That damned bag of cat food gouged his stomach, but he kept right on hugging her. Over her head, he introduced himself
, then asked Rose, “We’re here for information about what happened to our baby. Would it be all right if we come in?”

  “By all means…” The woman stepped back, welcoming them into her home.

  The house’s surprisingly comfortable interior came as a shock, considering the abysmal exterior condition. Hardwood antique cabinets held pricey bric-a-brac, Tiffany lamps and leather-bound books. Victorian sofas upholstered in gold velvet were dotted with colorful fringed pillows. A calico cat lounged on a sunny windowsill, and a black cat napped in a yarn-filled basket. Garrett didn’t find it all that strange that a woman of Rose’s age would have nice, older furniture, but the supersize flat-screen TV hung over a marble fireplace combined with the latest-model iPad resting on a coffee table raised questions. Primarily, why the show of poverty on the outside, when inside, it seemed Rose Pincherre’s home was nicely decked out? Why had she allowed her home in Savannah to enter into foreclosure? Had Rose won the lottery or a lawsuit? Or could there be a more sinister reason for her lavish lifestyle? Like she’d sold more than a few babies and had been smart enough to know when to say when. If that was the case, what superficial electronic toy had his son’s sale price purchased?

  The place didn’t even smell like a typical old lady hermit’s home. No medicinal scents of BENGAY or trace of cat pee or mold. Just lemony furniture polish and maybe a hint of fresh-baked gingersnaps.

  “Pardon the mess.” Rose bustled to tidy newspapers and fluff pillows. “Would either of you like tea? I have iced or hot.”

  “Hot tea would be lovely…” Trembling, Eve lowered herself onto the nearest settee.

  “And you?” Rose hovered.

  Garrett said, “Nothing, thank you.”

  Their hostess left them for the kitchen.

  He sat beside Eve, wishing they were in a different place. Garrett wanted to put his arm around her, reassuring her everything would be okay, but nothing could be further from the truth. Instead of reaching to him for comfort, she hugged her bag of cat food.

  With Rose out of the room, Garrett asked, “Find all of this odd?”

  “What do you mean?” She sniffled.

  “Look around. You insisted we stop off to buy cat food. Does that fatty in the windowsill look like he’s starving?”

  “Hush,” Eve scolded. “This place is falling apart.”

  “On the outside. Take a good look in here.”

  She did. Dawning was slow to come, but it eventually showed in the form of widening eyes and her hands fluttering over her open mouth. “You don’t think…”

  “She sold all those babies?”

  “Here we go.” Rose set an heirloom silver tray loaded with an equally pricey tea set on the marble-topped coffee table. She flashed a bright smile. “I brought cookies, too. No one likes tea without a little something sweet.” After filling a bone-china cup for Eve, she pinched a white cube with silver tongs. “Sugar?”

  “N-no, thank you.”

  “I know better, but can never seem to get enough.” Rose prepared her tea-filled, fine porcelain cup with four cubes before settling into the wing chair opposite them. “Now, what specifically would you like to know?”

  Where to start? Garrett didn’t want to spook her. On the other hand, he wanted the truth.

  Clearing his throat, he said, “You may or may not have heard, but Eve’s father, Hal Barnesworth, recently died.”

  “I read it in the paper. I’m so sorry, Eve. Your father was a wonderful man.”

  The cynic in Garrett couldn’t help but wonder if the woman’s positive view had been tainted by a large cash influx.

  “Thank you,” Eve managed to say.

  “On his deathbed,” Garrett said, “he admitted the son you told Eve had died is in fact alive. Mind telling us where he is?”

  The color drained from Rose’s face. The cookie she’d half eaten fell from her fingers onto the floor. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I trusted you.” As if only just now remembering she was a strong, accomplished woman who was no longer Rose’s helpless ward, Eve straightened her posture. “I trusted you, and you lied to my face. I went through hell, delivering our son. I heard him cry. And then he was whisked away. When I asked for him, you told me he died.”

  “He did.” Standing, Rose went to the window, stroking her cat. The animal’s purring and a ticking grandfather clock were the only sounds in the otherwise silent room. “Clearly, your father wasn’t in his right mind. For you to show up after all this time, accusing me of such an unthinkable act—well…” Hands flighty, she paced, but then stilled as if regaining her composure. “You have to believe I would never be part of such a despicable act.”

  Eve stood and deposited the cat food alongside the tea set. “Give this to your cats. As for the line of bull you just fed us—save it.”

  * * *

  “THAT COULD’VE GONE BETTER.”

  “If that’s your stab at levity…” Eve directed the car’s AC vent to blow on her flushed face. “I appreciate your effort, but honestly, I’m not sure I’ve ever been this upset. How can she live with herself? Lying to my face? Our faces?”

  “Wish I had an answer for you.” Making a left out of Rose’s neighborhood, Garrett aimed his vehicle toward the main drag leading to the highway. “More than that, I wish we had a way to prove she lied. With your dad dead, it’s our word against hers.”

  She angled to face him. “What about Daddy’s lawyer? What if we sic him on her?”

  “Worth a try. But with Barry having no more documentation than we do, my gut feeling is we’re back to square one. Again.”

  * * *

  “MISS EVE—” JUANITA FOLLOWED Eve up the front staircase and into her room—the guest room—not the place where she’d spent her childhood, where painful memories resided. Even on her occasional trips home from college, and later with Matt, she’d always opted for the guest room. Her old room had become a time capsule. The neatnik in her knew she should carefully pack away those mementos along with their memories, but to do so would mean immersing herself for hours in a previous life she struggled to forget. It was far easier to shut the door. Only visiting when she was feeling brave. “You must come down to eat dinner.”

  “Thank you,” Eve said from the top of the stairs, as she removed her too-tall pumps, “but I’m not hungry.”

  “You eat!” The woman who had been a second mom to her stayed close on Eve’s heels. Many nights the two of them shared dinner, then watched TV or played board games while her father had been off at some party or dinner. “You too skinny. How you get Mr. Garrett love you if you no meat on bones?” Wagging her finger, she added, “Men no like scrawny chicken.”

  “Thank you for the advice.” On her closet’s threshold, Eve gave Juanita a hug. For the first time in, she couldn’t remember when, Juanita wasn’t wearing a wig. Her natural hair was long, dark and pretty with a hint of gray. On occasion, during late-night treks to the kitchen, Eve had caught glimpses of Juanita sitting at the vanity in her room, brushing one hundred strokes, counting aloud in Spanish. Tonight, she wore her hair slicked back in a neat, highly uncharacteristic bun. “But it’s not like that with Garrett and me.”

  “Pssh.” With a dismissive wave of her hands, Juanita said, “You not know what you talk about. Let me fix you nice, hot bath. Then you feel pretty and call Mr. Garrett. I cook for him, too.”

  “Juanita, please…” Too late. The matchmaker was already in the bathroom with t
he water running.

  Eve removed her pearls, setting them on the crystal tray engraved with her initials that her father had given her as an engagement gift when she told him she’d accepted Matt’s proposal. As Matt had already asked Hal’s permission, her father had the gift waiting. The tray also held an assortment of rings, earrings and a tennis bracelet and matching necklace. Eve used to look at the tray each night when removing her day’s jewelry and smile. She’d think fondly of her father’s many gifts and of all the years he’d been by her side, protecting her, watching over her in every way a father should.

  But now all of that had changed.

  She wasn’t sure what to think. Had any part of their relationship not been a lie? Had all this jewelry she’d thought given from his heart truly been means for him to alleviate guilt? Would he really have stooped so low as to have even somehow influenced Garrett’s dad?

  And then there was Garrett himself. In the short while they’d searched for their son, he’d been a rock. Why hadn’t she gone to him all those years ago? He’d deserved that—to be part of the decision regarding their coming child.

  Everything about the man was attractive—far beyond his physical attributes. It didn’t matter that when he’d held her on Rose’s porch her pulse had run away. What mattered was that after the disaster she and Matt had made of their lives, when it came to romance, Eve was done.

  Matt had cheated on her—multiple times. But oddly enough, it hadn’t been that that killed their marriage, but more Eve’s own issues.