Table of Contents
Excerpt
The Soldier’s Wife
Copyright
Dedications
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
A word about the author…
Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
“Ms. Montgomery. I’m Beckett McKenzie.
Please, have a seat. What can I do for you?”
Savannah gracefully lowered herself into a chair and crossed her legs, placing her handbag neatly on the floor next to her before folding her hands in her lap. “I apologize for the intrusion at your work, but I thought this would be better than coming to see you at home.” She took a deep breath and expelled it slowly. “I’m here to talk to you about your late husband, Ryan McKenzie.”
Curiosity and dread melding in her gut, Beckett tucked her hair behind her ears. “My husband has been dead for more than five years.”
“I’m aware of that. I know what I’m about to say is going to be difficult, so I’ll say it quickly and leave you to process.” Savannah took a deep breath. “My sister passed away a year ago. When she died, I was left custody of her daughter Lyla, who is six. My sister never disclosed who Lyla’s father was, but after her death I found correspondence between her and your husband. From the photos and letters I’ve found, it is evident Ryan McKenzie is the father of my niece.”
Beckett’s heart stopped beating. Her whole body went cold as the room did a slow, sick spin. “I’m sorry.” Her voice sounded choked and desperate even to her own ears. “You’ve made a mistake.”
The Soldier’s Wife
by
Sirena N. Robinson
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
The Soldier’s Wife
COPYRIGHT © 2017 by Sirena N. Robinson
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by Kristian Norris
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Crimson Rose Edition, 2017
Print ISBN 978-1-5092-1847-9
Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-1848-6
Published in the United States of America
Dedications
To my family for believing in me
~*~
To Matt and Tierra for being my constant readers
~*~
And to Amy for helping me whip every book
I’ve ever written into shape.
Thank you. I couldn’t do it without you.
Prologue
Beckett McKenzie stooped to pick up building blocks, the corners of her mouth turning up in a smile as she tossed each of the wooden pieces into a basket against the wall. She rubbed her hand over the curve of her protruding stomach and braced the other palm on her knee to help herself stand up.
Her back aching from cleaning up after a three-year old while heavily pregnant, she wandered into the kitchen to put a cup of water in the microwave for tea. Knowing she didn’t have much time before her son would be awake, she hovered by the microwave anxiously, waiting for it to finish heating.
The doorbell ringing sent a shiver of annoyance down her spine, and she listened for the tell-tale stirrings of Rhys waking up. Nothing but the low hum of cartoons on the ancient TV in the living room reaching her ears, Beckett strode to the door, pressing her eye to the small peephole before she reached for the doorknob.
Two men in formal military uniforms stood on the stoop. Beckett recognized the first man as the base chaplain. She jerked open the door, shaking her head, tears already pooling in her eyes and dripping down her face.
“No. No, you have the wrong house. It’s not possible. No. It can’t be.”
“Ma’am, I’m Lieutenant Connors, this is Father Grimes. Are you Beckett McKenzie?”
“I said it’s not possible!” The shriek of grief exploded from her and she sank to the cement, leaning heavily against the doorframe.
“Ma’am, we’re sorry to have to inform you that your husband, Captain Ryan Alexander McKenzie, was killed in action yesterday in theatre. His unit was en route to the base and took heavy fire.”
Father Grimes crouched, taking Beckett’s hands in his own. “Beck, look at me. Where’s Rhys?”
Her eyes glassy and glazed over, Beckett looked back in the house. “Napping.”
“Who can we call for you? Your parents? Sibling? Someone here?”
Beckett forced herself to think. “Ryan’s family. Have they been told?”
Lieutenant Connors shook his head. “Ma’am, you’re the next of kin. If you’d like the Army to do the notification, I can arrange it.”
“No. I’ll do it.” She leaned her head on the doorframe and closed her eyes. “His body?”
“Will be delivered next week. He’ll receive full honors and burial in Arlington. Your husband died a hero, ma’am. We’ll take care of all those details.”
Soon after the chaplain and lieutenant left, the other military wives came. Food was brought, Rhys was taken to a neighbor’s to play, and condolences were given. After several hours left alone in an empty house, Beckett did what she knew should have already been done.
Picking up the phone, she dialed a familiar number, listening to the ringing before the rumbling voice that picked up on the third one.
“There’s my favorite sister-in-law. How’s my niece doing? Still cooking?”
Beckett laid her hand protectively on her stomach. “Murphy.”
When Murphy McKenzie spoke again, the smile was gone from his voice. She listened to him dropping into a chair, and his intake of a deep breath as he braced himself for what was to come. “What is it? What’s happened?”
Her voice thick with tears, she forced herself to say the words. “The chaplain was here. It’s Ryan.”
“When?”
“Yesterday. His envoy took fire.” She shook her head, knowing he couldn’t see her, but needing to do it anyway. “I’m so sorry.”
“Do Mom and Dad know?”
“No. I couldn’t call them. I don’t know how. I don’t know what to do. Rhys…”
“Shh. I’m on my way. We all are. I’ll go tell Mom and Dad and book a flight. We’ll be there by morning. You’re not in this alone, Beck. We’ll get through it together.”
“They say they’ll bury him in Arlington if I want. I thought maybe you would w
ant to bury him at home.” Her voice breaking, Beckett managed to finish the thought. “Do you want me to bring him home?”
Murphy’s voice was thick with tears when he spoke again. “Bring him home. I want both of you to come home. You and Rhys. Pack bags, whatever you need.” On a strangled sob, he repeated the sentiment. “I’m coming to get you and bring you home.”
Warm relief washed through Beckett and she nodded. “Please hurry.”
****
It was supposed to rain for the funeral. Rain was appropriate. But instead, they got bright, blinding sunshine. The skies above Bar Harbor were dotted with fluffy white clouds, and a warm, lazy breeze stirring the air just enough to keep it from being too hot outside to be comfortable. Beckett cursed the sun throughout the trek across the graveyard to the gaping hole in the ground where her husband would soon be buried.
The service was a blur. She couldn’t remember a single word the pastor said. Sandwiched between Murphy and her mother-in-law, Beckett focused on trying not to cry. It upset Rhys when she cried, and he’d seen Mommy cry too often since that fateful knock on her front door.
The shots as twenty-one servicemen fired weapons jolted her out of her trance, and she focused on the two soldiers folding the flag that had been draped over the coffin. When the well-choreographed movements were over, one of the men approached her, bending and extending the triangle of red, white, and blue to her.
“On behalf of the Army, the President of the United States, and the citizens of this nation, I want to extend heartfelt condolences for your loss.”
Beckett forced herself to take the flag, clutching it to her chest. Her chin quivered and when she spoke, her voice wobbled. “Thank you.”
Looking up when someone laid a hand on her arm, she turned her head and fixated on Ryan’s mother, Cassandra, who squeezed her hand and held fast. “You’re not in this alone. We’re all here with you.”
“I know. Thank you.” She laid her free hand on the curve of her belly and turned her head to look at Murphy, who was holding Rhys. “Ryan would want me to be here, with all of you.”
Cassandra linked her arm through Beckett’s. “I hope you’ll stay for a while, at least. This was Ryan’s home, and it’s yours too, for as long as you need it or want it.” She laid her hand on Beckett’s stomach. “At least stay until the baby comes.”
“At least for a while.”Beckett turned back to watch the coffin lowering into the ground and closed her eyes in a futile effort to stop the flood of tears. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
Murphy shifted Rhys to his right shoulder, easing the sleeping toddler over to free his left arm, which he used to drape over Beckett’s shoulders. “You don’t have to figure anything out today. Let us help you for now. There’s plenty of time to worry later. For now, we bury Ryan and grieve as a family.”
Touched and already overly emotional, Beckett leaned over and laid her head on Murphy’s shoulder, turning her face into the fabric of his jacket and letting herself cry.
****
The insistent ringing of his cell phone ripped Murphy from the deep sleep of a man who’d been awake for too many hours. Groping for the offending device, he seriously thought about hurling it at the wall as he fumbled to swipe the right direction and answer the call. He growled as he looked toward the window and noticed it was still pitch-black.
“Someone had better be dead.”
“Murphy?”
The fear tinged voice took him from angry to panicked in a heartbeat. “Beck? What’s wrong? What time is it?”
“It’s three-thirty. I need you to come get me.”
“What’s wrong? Where are you? Where’s Rhys? What’s happened?” He rolled from bed and yanked on jeans, holding the phone away from his ear as he jerked a shirt on over his head.
“I’ve been having contractions since yesterday afternoon, but they’ve been really bad for the past six hours. My water broke half an hour ago, and my contractions are five minutes apart now, so I think it’s time to go to the hospital.” Beckett continued, “Your mom’s on her way to get Rhys, but I don’t think I can drive myself. Can you come get me?”
“Six hours! Why didn’t you call me six hours ago?”
“Because then you’d have been waiting six hours for nothing. I checked with the doctor when the contractions started around noon. He said to wait until they were five minutes apart or first thing in the morning, whichever came first.”
“I’m on my way. Don’t go anywhere.”
Beckett shook her head in amusement as the line went dead. Rubbing her back absently, she waddled into her son’s room and woke him gently, wrapping him in a blanket and settling him on her shoulder. Enjoying the heaviness of a still sleepy toddler, she hummed while gathering up his favorite toys and spare clothes.
By the time she had managed to stuff his things into a bag, she heard her front door open and Cassandra’s voice floated down the hall.
“Beck? It’s Cassie. Where are you?”
“Back here.” Beckett draped the bag over her free arm and headed down the hall, stopping once as a contraction worked its way through her. “I packed him a bag. I need to get my suitcase from my room, and then I’ll be ready to go as soon as Murphy gets here.”
“Did you manage to get him up?”
“Yeah, he’s on his way.”
“I wish Alan weren’t out of town, but he’s had this trip planned to visit Caleb and Jax for months. Fishing in Canada or some other such thing.” Cassie shook her head and relieved Beckett of Rhys. “Rhys can keep Grandma company for as long as you need.”
“Thanks, Cass, I appreciate it.” Beckett winced when the door slammed downstairs and footsteps rapidly ascended the stairs. “Murphy?”
He burst through the door. “Beckett!”
She offered a weak smile. “Hi, Murphy.”
He crossed the room and gave her a tight hug. “Are you okay? Do you need me to carry you to the truck? Can you walk?”
Cassandra scoffed. “She’s in labor, not dying.” She rose onto her tiptoes to kiss her son lightly. “Go on and get her suitcase from her room. Babies make their appearances when they’re damn well ready. Be a good son and stay with her, won’t you?”
Beckett shook her head. “That’s really not necessary.”
Murphy emerged from the back bedroom with the small suitcase. “There’s no way in hell you’re going through this alone.” He wrapped his arm around Beckett’s shoulders and guided her toward the door. “It’s my niece you’ve got in there. Ryan wouldn’t want me to let you go through this alone. I’ll be there with you. He was my brother. It’s the least I can do.”
Cassie carried Rhys to her car and strapped the toddler into the car seat in the back. “Keep me updated on how everything goes. We can be there in ten minutes if you need us. I’ll bring Rhys down once everything is settled.”
Beckett nodded weakly and let her brother-in-law help her into his truck. She paused, taking in a deep, long breath as a contraction ripped through her. Once it had passed and she was safely closed into the cab, Murphy dashed around the hood and climbed in, slamming the truck into gear and punching the gas. She grabbed the door handle and gripped tightly, sucking in a breath as she was tossed against the back of the seat.
“Slow down! It’s not an emergency. It could still be hours yet.”
Murphy spared her a glance and turned the wheel to make the angle onto the main road. “The sooner we get there the better. The last thing I want is to be delivering the baby on the side of the road.” He reached over and laid his hand over hers. “I’m gonna take care of both of you, don’t worry.”
Beckett squeezed his fingers and closed her eyes in deference to a contraction, taking deep breaths until it had passed and she thought she could speak again. “Ryan didn’t even know I was pregnant.”
Murphy looked at her in surprise. “You were five months when he died. How did he not know?”
“I found out after he deployed. At first, I
wanted to wait until I was through the first trimester before I told him.”
She paused to let another contraction pass, gripping the door handle and breathing in short gasps until the pain had ebbed and her vision had cleared.
“By the time I hit thirteen weeks, he was out of range for six weeks. At that point, I didn’t know how to tell him. I wanted to. I knew he’d be happy about it. I figured once I’d tell him once I found out what we were having.”
“And you found out it was a girl just a couple days before he died.” Murphy finished the thought soberly. “I’m sorry. How did you know none of us would say anything to him?”
“I didn’t. I didn’t put a lot of thought into it.” She laughed. “I should have told him when I had the chance.”
Murphy pulled into the parking lot of the hospital and slid into a spot. “He’d have been thrilled.”
Beckett opened the door and twisted to hop down, smiling when Murphy ran over and lifted her out, sliding one arm around her waist to support her weight. “He was in Pakistan when I had Rhys, and I was in Germany where we were stationed. He wasn’t due to be back until around now, so I’d resigned myself to having this baby alone, too.”
“Well, I’m here, and Mom would come, so you’re not alone this time. She wanted to be there when Rhys was born.”
“I understood she couldn’t afford to get there.” She glanced up at the hospital. “Third floor to labor and delivery.”
Murphy looked down when she stopped walking and leaned on him heavily, her hands gripping his arm. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“Contraction.” Beckett breathed rapidly. “They’re coming harder.”
Murphy stooped and looped one of his arms around the back of her knees, lifting Beckett into his arms. Striding through the doors, he turned to elbow the button next to the elevator and shifted her girth in his arms. Embarrassed, Beckett studied the ceiling.
“You don’t have to carry me. I’m carrying damn near forty extra pounds.”
“It’s easier this way. Now if you have another contraction, there’s no need to stop walking. The sooner we get you checked in, the happier I’ll be.”
The door slid open to the elevator and Murphy stepped on, nodding to the nurses already in the car.
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