Uncle Sarge

by Bonnie Gardner

  How long had he and Jennifer been holding hands in the guise of passing a piece of pie? It didn’t matter to Rich how long he hovered there, it didn’t matter if everyone knew how he felt about Jennifer as long as Jennifer knew.

  Reluctantly, he took the plate and placed it in front of him, lifted Caitlyn to his lap and indulgently watched as his niece scraped all the topping off his dessert.

  He didn’t care about pie. If everything worked out, dessert, for him, would come later.

  REBBECA AND TOM were the first to leave. Newlyweds, they couldn’t wait to be alone, Jennifer supposed.

  Carter had already been put to bed, and Caitlyn and Rich were sprawled on the floor playing a cutthroat game of Chutes and Ladders. Why she had ever thought that he wouldn’t be good father—correction, husband—material was beyond her. And if her ESP was working as well as she thought it was, he had come to believe it, too.

  She’d stayed later than she’d planned, but she tired easily now, and there was still that long drive home to Fort Walton Beach. At least, if her plan worked, she wouldn’t be going alone.

  Jennifer went to the kitchen to collect her empty pie plate then returned to the family group in the living room. Her heart swelled as she looked at Rich playing with Caitlyn. Someday that scene would be hers.

  “Bye, Caitlyn,” Jennifer called as she found her purse on the coat tree. She hugged Sherry and turned.

  “Aren’t you gonna say goodbye to me,” Rich said, looking up from the game.

  Oops. Jennifer smiled and covered her mistake. “Sorry, I thought you were too busy with your game to notice.”

  “Oh, I always notice,” Rich said, and Jennifer flushed with joy.

  She almost didn’t know how to respond to that. She turned to Sherry one more time. “Thank you for inviting me. I had a wonderful time.”

  Jennifer stepped out into the night, cooler now that the sun had gone down, and took a deep breath of the evening air. Then she hurried to her car.

  It was time to get on with the rest of The Plan.

  RICH WASN’T SURPRISED when Jennifer came back to the door, breathlessly explaining that her car wouldn’t start. He hadn’t heard the engine over Caitlyn’s gloating cries as she won another game.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked as he pushed himself up off the floor and wiped his sweating hands on his jeans.

  Jennifer shrugged. “I don’t know what’s wrong. It just won’t start.”

  Rich turned to the coat tree and grabbed his jacket. “I guess I could take a look.”

  “I’d really appreciate it,” Jennifer said and stepped back outside.

  Rich turned to Sherry and winked. Operation Jennifer was underway. He followed her outside.

  She already had the hood up, but it didn’t look like she’d done anything. “I’m not sure I know what to look for,” Jennifer said.

  Rich aimed a light on the engine, letting the beam play over the parts for effect. He knew what was wrong.

  “I don’t see anything. Maybe, you just flooded it. You said you had a good battery?”

  Jennifer drew in a deep breath, looked toward the sky, and crossed her fingers. “It’s the one that came with the car. It’s been slow to start in the mornings, but it got me all the way here just fine.” She hated playing dumb, but if her plan worked, it was worth it. “Can you fix it?”

  Rich stepped back. “Sure, I can fix it. But not tonight. I don’t have the right equipment here.”

  Jennifer managed a crestfallen expression, though she was cheering inside. “Oh, no. You mean, I’m stranded.”

  Rich took in a deep breath, then let it out. “No. It just happens I’m going the same way.”

  THE FIFTY-ONE-point-seven miles between Sherry’s and Jennifer’s houses might as well have been a thousand. Finally, they passed the gate in front of Hurlburt Air Force Base. Just a few more minutes and they could talk.

  Rich drew in a deep, relieved breath. If he had to wait much longer, he just might explode.

  “I really appreciate you going out of your way to bring me home,” Jennifer said.

  “No problem,” he said tersely. He had so much to say, but sitting in a cramped four-wheel-drive pickup wasn’t the place to say it.

  “Turn here,” Jennifer said. “I forgot that you’d never been to my house before.”

  He had, but he wouldn’t tell her that. On one particularly torturous night he’d driven down her street with the intention of beating her door down, tossing her over his shoulder and carrying her to the nearest justice of the peace. Only a man walking his dog kept him from it.

  “Now what?” It was damned hard playing like he hadn’t been here, but he had to make this look good.

  “Make a left here, and it’s the third house on the right.”

  Rich pulled up in front of the neat little rancher. She’d left the carport light on, and it beckoned him. He drew in a deep breath, then exhaled slowly.

  “Would you like to come in?”

  Rich glanced across the seat. Jennifer held that pie plate as if it were a shield. What if he’d read her wrong?

  He swallowed. “Sure. Maybe you could offer me a cup of coffee?”

  Her eyes lit up like an airport search light. “That’s the least I could do. Come on in.” She pushed open the door and scrambled down.

  Rich caught her by the elbow as she pushed open the back door. “Jennifer, I have a confession to make.”

  She didn’t shrug him off, and she let him hold her arm as she stepped inside and flipped on the light. She turned to face him. Her expression was eager, hopeful. “Yes?” Her voice was breathless.

  Rich closed the door behind them, and they stood face-to-face in front of it. “I don’t want any coffee.”

  She swallowed. “Is that it?”

  “What?”

  “Your confession. You don’t want coffee?” She gnawed uncertainly at her lower lip, and Rich wanted so much to kiss it.

  “No,” he said, then swallowed. “There was nothing wrong with your car.” He reached into his jacket pocket and produced a handful of greasy wires loosely wrapped in paper towels. “I sabotaged it so you’d ride home with me.”

  The look on her face was priceless. “I don’t be—You didn—I—” She stopped trying to talk and went into another room. When she turned on the light, Rich could see it was the kitchen.

  He followed, wondering what she was thinking. Please don’t let her be mad, he prayed silently.

  Jennifer reached into a drawer, then handed him a cellophane-wrapped four-pack of chewable antacid tablets. One roll was missing. “I have a confession of my own,” she said. “I killed the battery by neutralizing the acid. I wanted us to be alone.” She paused, took a deep breath, exhaled, then went on. “We have to talk.”

  Rich laid his greasy bundle on the counter. He took Jennifer’s hands and covered them with his. “I was a little slow coming to it, but I guess it’s better late than never. I love you, and I want—”

  She stopped him with her fingers to his lips. He kissed them, and took her into his arms. “I wan—”

  Jennifer wanted so much to hear the rest, but until he knew the whole story, she wouldn’t let him go on. “Rich, if you’re going to say what I think you are, you’ll make me the happiest woman in the world. But first, you need to know something.”

  She hated the panic on his face, the wariness in his eyes. “I hope it’s good news,” she continued. “It is to me, but you might think otherwise….”

  He stopped her. “Nothing you can say would be bad unless it’s that you don’t love me.”

  She shook her head. “Please, Rich. This is hard for me. Let me get it out.”

  “All right,” he said slowly. “Let me have it.” He drew in a deep breath as if he were bracing himself.

  “Remember when I fell asleep, and you put me in Ski’s bed?”

  He nodded.

  “And we made love.”

  He nodded again. “How could I forget?”

&n
bsp; “I told you I was on the Pill.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I missed a few.”

  “Yeah, and…?”

  “They don’t work that well if you don’t take them.”

  Rich stared at her as if she were one of the Seven Wonders. His eyes grew bright, and he turned away.

  Had she misread him? Was that a look of dismay?

  “You mean…? You’re…?”

  She nodded.

  His gaze shifted to her still-flat stomach. “Hoo-ah!” he said softly, an expression of wonder on his face. Then he broke into a wide grin. He opened the back door and shouted into the night. “Hoo-ah!” for anyone to hear.

  Then he closed the door and gathered her into his arms. “We’re going to have a baby?”

  Jennifer smiled and nodded against his broad, solid chest. She felt the beat of his heart against her cheek, and it felt so good to be in his arms.

  Rich held her for a long time, then he had to speak. “You know, I wasn’t sure I was worthy of a wife, a family, happiness. I was so sure I was just going to turn out like my dad that I was afraid to try.”

  She brushed her fingers against his lips, but he pushed her hand away. Sherry had told her a little about it at the wedding, but it would be good to hear it from Rich.

  “You could probably guess, considering our life in foster care, that Sherry and I didn’t have the greatest childhood,” he said, pausing as if he didn’t know how to go on. He drew a deep breath, let it out, swallowed, then went on. “My dad was a drunk, and when he drank, he wasn’t a lot of fun to be around. He beat my mom, he beat us and generally made life miserable for the three of us. Oh, Mom tried, but she was already sick, and Dad was too far gone to help….”

  Jennifer wanted to stop him, to keep him from having to admit all this, but she knew that it would help him to actually say it out loud. Sherry had hinted at some of it, but she sensed there was more. “It’s all right, Rich. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “Yeah,” he said huskily. “I know that now. But kids are funny. They think everything is centered around them. When stuff is good, it’s because of them, and when stuff is bad, it’s their fault, too.” He stopped and shook his head. “And I had another strike against me. I look like my dad. At least, what he looked like before he got so far gone.” He drew in another breath and ran a shaky hand through his hair. “I thought if I looked like him, then I must be destined to be like him, too.

  “And I couldn’t bear the thought of inflicting that on any other woman, any other kid.” He stopped, his voice tight, choked.

  “You don’t believe that anymore, do you?” Jennifer asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

  Rich smiled and shook his head. “No, after spending all that time with the kids, I started to believe, and then I talked to Sherry about it. She set me straight. She’s pretty smart for a little sister,” he said, his smile quirking wider.

  Jennifer took the smile as a good sign and answered it with one of her own. “You’re not the only person who had to learn a thing or two. Look at me. I was gun-shy, too. I figured that since my ex-husband was in Special Tactics and an immature jerk, that all combat controllers were. Even when I had the truth right in front of me.” She drew in a deep breath. “Can you forgive me for lumping you into the same group as Duke Bishop?”

  “I’ll forgive you under one condition.”

  Jennifer’s breath caught in her throat. “What’s that?” she asked, hardly daring to breathe.

  “You have to marry me and let me spend the rest of our lives proving you wrong.”

  Jennifer smiled. “Is that all?”

  Rich looked down at her and grinned. “Seems like plenty to me. I’m sentencing you to life.”

  “That’s a pretty long one,” Jennifer said. “But since I love you, I think I can tough it out.”

  “You do? You really do?”

  Jennifer looked up at him. After all this, could he still doubt? “Yes, Rich, I really love you, and I intend to spend the rest of our lives showing you just how much.”

  Rich pulled his jacket off and tossed it high into the air. “Hoo-ah!” he shouted. “I’m the happiest man in the world.”

  Jennifer just smiled. No one could be happier than she was at that moment. Then she looked at Rich. No one could be happier than both of them.

  ISBN: 978-1-4603-6793-3

  UNCLE SARGE

  Copyright ©2001 by Bonnie Gardner.

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