Unforgettable (Family Justice Book 5)

by Suzanne Halliday

  “What kind of secret, baby Bella?”

  She squirmed under the covers. Sure sign of a dilemma.

  “Um, well, it’s a birthday wish secret. Aunt Lacey says for it to come true it has to be secret.”

  “You mean your wish when you blew out the candles?”

  “Mm hmm.”

  “Well, okay. Um…” He was caught in a jam with this one. She was right. That was the deal with birthday candle wishes. “If it’s a secret why do you have to tell me?”

  “Because.” She kicked the covers and wiggled around some more.

  His imagination lit up with a new hashtag. W-S-D-S…What Should Daddy Say.

  “I know,” he told her in all seriousness. “Why don’t you whisper it to me? That way only I can hear and your wish will be safe.”

  He had no fucking idea what he was talking about but the argument seemed sound enough to use on a six-year-old.

  When her eyes sparkled it looked to him like Daddy was bringing his A game tonight.

  She waved him closer and put her small hand on his face so she could get close to his ear. Must be some wish because she wasn’t taking any chances.

  His heart went a little wobbly.

  “I wished for Heather to be my mommy.”

  The universe froze in time. The earth stopped spinning. Not a single sound invaded the silence.

  Holy.

  Fucking.

  Shit.

  You and me both, baby girl. You and me both.

  “And I told my Heather’s mommy that I want her to be my grandmom.”

  He didn’t say anything. It wasn’t a question. Or even a request. Bella’s birthday wish was a statement of fact. He let it stand on its own merit.

  Winking, he kissed her cheek. “Your secret is safe with me, Bella Mia.”

  “Do you think my wish will come true?”

  Well, shit. The trust and innocence in her voice grabbed his heart and squeezed the mother fuck out of it.

  He made a performance out of looking around the room—under the bed—in the closet, to make sure no one could hear. Then with his daughter’s brightly shining eyes glued to his face he grinned big and said, “I do, honey. I definitely think your birthday wish will come true.”

  He hoped he wasn’t kidding himself when his answer put a beatific smile on her face.

  “Night Daddy.”

  “Night sweet baby Bella. Sleep tight, honey. I love you.”

  He left her room, turning out the bedside lamp and pulling the door almost shut.

  29

  “She’s a wonderful child, Brody,” Jennifer Clarke murmured with her hand on his wrist. “You’re doing an amazing job. I’m so sad that your grandfather couldn’t be here.”

  The mention of Pops gave him pause. He wasn’t doing well. Ever since his eightieth, he’d had one health issue after another.

  “I’m flying out to see him after the family center opening. Make sure he’s okay.” The words stuck uncomfortably in his throat. Pops was far from okay. The clock was ticking down and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Life seemed so short—even after more than eight decades.

  A round of shouts and whoops made their way into the kitchen where he and Heather’s mother were relaxing with a pot of tea. In the next room, Heather and her dad were engaged in a GTA battle that earned rolled eyes, snickers and head shakes from him and Jennifer.

  “Do you like the house, Jennifer? I made sure all of Heather’s contributions to the wish list took priority. She had you guys in mind when she decorated the downstairs junior suite.”

  “Oh, goodness,” she exclaimed. “I love everything about it. The second family area upstairs is genius.” She smiled at him and sat back, cradling her tea mug. “My husband and I are quite moved by Heather’s happiness. It’s obvious she loves you very much.”

  More comforting words he couldn’t imagine.

  “She’s an amazing woman. I think you and your husband have a lot to do with that.”

  The conversation swerved to the left and entered serious town when Jennifer spoke. “We were worried for so long. As a parent you must understand how difficult it is to watch your child hurt. Especially over so many years and with no hope of a change in sight. And then you happened, Brody. I knew the day we met you were important to my little girl.”

  “I’m happy to hear you say that Mrs. Clarke. I worry sometimes that throwing Heather into the deep end without any warning by whipping a kid out of thin air has to be difficult. Considering what she lost.”

  “Her love for Bella is an extension of her love for you.”

  “I know,” he murmured with a rolling shoulder. “It’s just weird. I think because she couldn’t have kids, she was resigned to never having a family. With Bella being a rather obvious reality, well, Heather didn’t exactly have a choice.”

  She nodded first and then frowned. Her head tilted slightly to the left and she stared at him. “Excuse me. What did you say?”

  “Which part? You mean about Bella and not having a choice?”

  “No,” she said with a fierce shake of her head. She sat forward quickly and put the mug on the table. “You mentioned not having kids. What does that mean exactly?”

  He startled and jerked his head upright at the unusual question. “I just mean that with Heather unable to have kids, that…”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Time out.”

  He sat absolutely still and watched the play of emotions move across her face.

  “Did Heather say she couldn’t have kids? In those exact words?”

  “Uh…” He went silent. Fuck! A quiz.

  “Never mind,” she suddenly muttered. Patting his hand she stood up and said, “Excuse me for a moment.”

  Watching as she marched away, he had to lean slightly and peer around a corner to keep track of her as she hit the family room.

  “Heather. A word, please.”

  She used that tone no kid, no matter how old, would ignore.

  “Jenn! Come on, love. We’re in the middle of a game.”

  Brody’s eyebrows shot up and his mouth made an O as in oh shit when Jennifer Clarke snapped her fingers and pointed, effectively demanding her daughter move her ass.

  “Jesus, Mom. What flew up your skirt?”

  Heather was nervous. She’d never seen her mom so…rigid. They were in the little downstairs office with the glass paned French doors shut. She had a sinking feeling she’d done something terrible like snap the string on her mom’s favorite pearls or shatter the vintage Lalique vase her grandmother treasured.

  Sitting on a swiveling stool she held onto the seat as her mom paced back and forth. When she stopped and turned to look at Heather, there was no mistaking the exasperation marking her mother’s expression.

  “I’m sure there’s some politically correct way to go about this but frankly, I don’t give a fart about what’s correct.”

  Uh oh. This did not sound good. She swallowed and licked her lips.

  That was when Mom unloaded both barrels. “Did you tell that wonderful man out there who clearly adores you and who would do anything to make you happy…”

  Ice-cold dread seeped into her veins at her mother’s accusatory tone.

  “That you couldn’t have children? Do I understand this correctly? And in case you haven’t figured it out yet, this is a bullshit assessment Heather so don’t even think about giving me some psychological razzle dazzle. Yes or no will do.”

  “Mom,” she croaked, stunned by the question.

  “Heather,” she warned. “Do not make me get your father.”

  The threat she and her brother Travis feared most of all.

  Sometimes being a psychologist sucked. Like right now when the pragmatic side of her brain made note of the body language signals she was putting off. Her jaw jutted forward despite the slight tremble in her chin and she felt her forehead wrinkle when she frowned.

  “I don’t understand,” she stated flatly. She was still trying to find her bearin
gs and hoped the non-answer answer would buy some time.

  Bad move though.

  “Cut it out,” her mom snapped. She crossed her arms and glared down at her. “I’m not one of your clients. This isn’t about my reaction to what I sincerely hope is a minor misunderstanding. It’s about you. I thought we were done with running from the past, Heather. Now for the last time, why does Brody think you can’t have children?”

  That stretching rubber band feeling began building inside her. The intensity of being stretched beyond her comfort zone and pulled tight until everything felt unyielding and painful made it difficult to breathe. She hated this subject so it was no wonder she started immediately shutting down. Some things were too painful.

  “Because I can’t, Mom,” she said jerkily. The sudden dryness in her mouth made her voice sound coarse and harsh.

  “That’s nonsense and you know it.”

  Her mother’s explosive and unconstrained comeback made Heather recoil with shock.

  “Mom,” she murmured weakly.

  She was witnessing Jennifer Clarke’s breaking point and it wasn’t a pretty sight. Not when her parent’s fiery wrath was directed solely at her.

  Waving her hand with a dismissive flick, she cut Heather off, and took two steps forward.

  “Oh, zip it. Enough! What the hell are you doing Heather? Have you forgotten I was there when the doctors spoke to you?”

  She’d forgotten or blocked out more than she remembered about all of it. Having her life blow up in spectacular fashion and then to miscarry, violently, didn’t lend well to coming away with warm, fuzzy, memories.

  “Please, Mom,” she pleaded. “I don’t want to talk about this. I,” she croaked in a half-broken voice, “can’t.” Heather hung her head and silently prayed the rubber band didn’t snap completely.

  Two hands, gentle but firm, cupped the sides of her face and lifted until she was gazing into her mother’s concerned, loving expression.

  “Heather, I know this is hard but I want you to listen to me carefully. Okay?”

  She nodded slightly and sucked in a deep breath.

  Her mom pulled a stool close and sat down at Heather’s knees. She reached into her lap and held her hands.

  “Honey, the doctors didn’t say you weren’t able to get pregnant again. The miscarriage wasn’t because you couldn’t carry. Don’t take that on yourself, Heather. What happened wasn’t your fault.”

  “They said no more babies…” she whimpered softly.

  Her mom squeezed her fingers. “Heather! Stop right now. They said give your body time to heal before trying again. That’s all. There was no ominous diagnosis, no sentence of a childless life. We should have talked about this,” she said fretfully. “I’m afraid it didn’t help to let you deal with all of what happened on your own.”

  A sensation kind of like howling winter winds, cold and biting enough to steal her breath, swirled inside her. She watched while her mom rubbed at her hands. Shaking her head to clear the fog, Heather struggled to find some sense.

  What was her mom talking about? That’s not what happened. Not the way she remembered it.

  “Breathe, Heather.”

  A painful whimper escaped her throat. She needed Brody. Immediately. Her world was spinning out of control. He was her anchor and right about now his calm, solid presence was critical to her emotional well-being.

  She tried to choke out his name but couldn’t. “Mom.”

  “Do you want me to get Brody?”

  It’s true what they say. Moms always know.

  She nodded quickly and started chewing on her lip.

  The second Jennifer Clarke dashed from the room Heather started to panic. Oh my god. Was she losing it? Had she been so deep in denial that she created a completely different narrative about the worst days of her life? It was nearly inconceivable to her that what she based her entire adult life on might be a fantasy created a long time ago by her grieving mind. A fantasy that was never reviewed, altered or updated.

  Seconds later her preppy professor turned longhaired biker burst into the room, his face etched deep with concern. He dropped to one knee in front of her and took her hands.

  “Baby. What’s wrong?”

  Through eyes having difficulty communicating with her sluggish brain, she saw her mom put a hand reassuringly on Brody’s shoulder. Behind both of them her dad’s imposing shape loomed in the doorway. George trotted around the humans and sat by her side.

  “I’m so confused,” she whispered.

  Brody’s eyes narrowed. He knew this drill. Probably better than her. “You’re okay. Just let it happen, Heather. I’m right here.”

  “What if I fall?” she muttered as agony pierced her heart.

  “I’ll always catch you, baby. Always.”

  She lifted her eyes. “Mom?”

  Jennifer Clarke earned mother of the year when she smiled and nodded her understanding and deftly handled what Heather simply could not.

  “Brody,” she began in a soothing, calm murmur. “It appears,” her mother stated cautiously, “that Heather may have been laboring under a false assumption.”

  “What kind of assumption?”

  “Well,” she replied somewhat hesitantly. She peered over her shoulder and on cue, Heather’s dad came to her side and put a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “As far as I can tell, something the doctors said when she had her, um…incident may have come off sounding a bit more dire than was necessary.”

  Heather blinked at her mother’s delivery and tone.

  “Not gonna lie here. You’re both freaking me out. Can we cut to the chase, please?” Brody was crushing her fingers in his strong hands. “Is Heather alright?”

  She blinked again. His first reaction was concern for her. She wanted to curl into his chest and pretend none of this was happening.

  “More than alright, I think Brody. You see, I believe her medical team’s advice that she fully recover and heal before attempting to get pregnant again was misinterpreted. Considering her situation at the time,” her mother rushed to say, “I doubt she was in a frame of mind to deal with any of that.”

  He looked at her. The confusion on his face was somehow reassuring. Maybe she wasn’t the only one suffering from head-up-ass.

  “What she’s trying so diplomatically to say,” she grated out when her voice returned. “Is that, going by my mom’s information, a medical re-evaluation is in order. Maybe having a baby isn’t completely off the table.”

  His stunned expression mirrored how she felt. Then, something flickered in his eyes, which he quickly masked.

  Pushing up from the floor, he stood but held onto one of her hands and turned toward her parents. “Would you two mind giving us a minute?”

  Her dad stepped forward and shook Brody’s free hand. “Had a fabulous time today. Best first birthday I’ve ever been to. But I think it’s time to turn in, don’t you Jenn?” He looked at his watch and grinned. “American Dad comes on in twenty minutes. Perfect timing!”

  Her mom laughed and playfully complained, “He wants me to wear Francine’s nightie. No! I’m serious,” she exclaimed when her dad growled.

  There was no way that moment wasn’t the strangest time to break out in gales of laughter but that’s what she did. And why? Because Stan and Francine were her and Brody’s evil twins. Just last week when she’d finally persuaded him to let her see his medals he’d deflated the seriousness of the moment by pinning a bunch of military bling on his sexy form hugging white briefs. Jumping up on their bed he broke into Stan’s theme song from American Dad in one of the funniest pantomimes she’d ever seen.

  The suggestion that her parents were also into Stan and Francine made the whole situation even more surreal.

  Her mom kissed Brody on the cheek and touched Heather’s face lovingly. She gave a particularly meaningful nod at Brody’s protective stance and refusal to surrender her hand.

  “Just to be clear,” Jennifer Clarke told them with a bit of flair,
“I’ll be making pancakes in the morning. Bella has me scheduled for one thing after another. We start with pancakes and then she’s taking me and Georgie for a walk.”

  The raw sound of emotion clogging her man’s throat when he spoke flipped Heather’s switch causing a complete one eighty from ‘what the fuck’ to ‘he needs me’.

  “Thanks,” he muttered somewhat uncomfortably. “For taking Bella Mia into your hearts.”

  Her dad wanted to say something. She saw it on his face but her mom glossed right over his attempt. The unsaid was obvious and totally unnecessary. Without knowing Brody very well at all and based entirely on the happy changes in Heather’s world, they embraced the little girl with true open arms.

  As her parents left them alone she caught her mom’s anxious gaze when she turned back to look at Heather one last time.

  Reaching for Brody’s arm, she twined around him and gave her mother a reassuring tilt of her head knowing her wise parent would read the message loud and clear. She loved this man. This complicated, wonderful man and everything was going to be okay.

  So maybe she didn’t know how or even what that really meant but the flash of intuition came from her heart and was good enough for her.

  When they were truly alone, she felt his whole torso rise and fall on a deep, deep inhale. She hugged his arm and did the same, taking in a lungful of fresh air to help clear her mind.

  “Feel like talking?”

  Brody thought about a mission when he and his team were caught in a tactical blunder that nearly ended with one of them going home in a body bag. Hunkered down for more than a day waiting for the assigned target to appear, they’d assumed their presence was unknown to the enemy fighters guarding the surrounding location.

  That particular occasion taught him to expand his range of vision with his eyes as well as his common sense. Something about the arrogant assumption that their training made them cool as shit actually obscured a lot of obvious. Like the fact that the enemy liked to toy with the coalition forces.

  They’d barely escaped alive and the target had gone on to create shit tons of chaos and death for more than a year before he was finally taken out.