Picket Fence Surprise

by Kris Fletcher

He regretted the thought as soon as it occurred to him. But seriously? Did she think he was going to storm into her hospital room and insist on equal time right from the start? He was tempted to go back inside, to wave her precious schedules under her nose and remind her he wasn’t some jerk who was going to yank the kid out of her arms just for spite.

  But if he went back inside, he would do something he would regret. Like tell her they didn’t need this. Like promise he would never land in another police car.

  Like tell her that the reason her disbelief had hurt the most was because he loved her.

  I won’t put Millie through that again... She’s just a little younger than I was... I gave Millie up once to keep her safe...

  If only the cop had shown up when Heather and Millie weren’t there...

  Millie.

  He checked the time. A little after eight. Too late for a school night?

  There was only one way to find out.

  Ten minutes later he pulled up in front of Hank’s place. The cottages were empty now, so the only lights shining were those from the house. Otherwise he was surrounded by shades of darkness—from the forest, the river in the distance, the occasional hint of silver that must be a stray moonbeam hitting a cabin window.

  Kind of reminded him of his months in jail—a long stretch of lonely with the occasional glimpse of normal when someone came to visit.

  Cold sweat beaded on his skin as he let himself—forced himself—to remember those months. The monotony punctured by flashes of laughter and spikes of anger. The fear that had almost paralyzed him when he first arrived, ebbing as he found the rhythm, only to spike up again when the guy two cells over was knifed in the yard.

  The way his every activity, almost every breath, had been mapped out according to someone else’s convenience. Someone else’s needs. Someone else’s schedule.

  For the first time since the cop had shown up on the door, he stopped to consider how the day could have turned out.

  And offered up a fast word of thanks that tonight, he was sitting in his truck instead of in a cell.

  Movement at the kitchen window reminded him that he needed to get it in gear. He hopped out of the car and headed for the door. Hank opened up before he could knock.

  “Xander?”

  It was hard to hear Hank over the wails of the baby in his arms.

  “Hey, Hank. Sorry to barge in, but I didn’t have your number.”

  Hank shifted the baby to his shoulder. The crying stopped.

  “What can I do for you?” Hank jiggled the infant. “I’ll warn you up front, though, if it takes more than two, three seconds, you’re probably SOL.”

  “Understood. I’d like to talk to Millie if I could.”

  Hank’s eyes went carefully blank.

  “She has to get to bed soon. School in the morning.”

  “Five minutes. I think... I know she had a scare today. I thought maybe, if she saw me, she might have an easier time with it.”

  Hank gave a slow nod. “Fair enough. Come on in.”

  Xander followed Hank into a kitchen that looked like a tornado had dropped the entire baby section of a Toys“R”Us in the middle.

  “Don’t mind the mess. We’re still catching up from Noah’s latest tooth. These days, we call it a win if everyone ends the day fed and bathed.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “Don’t. It’ll scare you off of ever having sex again. I’ll get Millie.”

  He disappeared. Xander soaked up the sights around him—the bouncy seat on the floor, a pacifier on the table, a box of baby cereal and an impossibly tiny spoon on the counter. All the items he had spied when he let himself take a fast detour down the baby aisle on his last trip to Wal-Mart.

  Except he had never really believed he would be picking out those supplies by himself.

  Movement from the hallway caught his eye. Millie hovered in the doorway, clad in footie pajamas and a fuzzy pink robe, her hair in one damp braid down her back. She eyed him warily as she clutched Hank’s hand.

  Xander’s heart twisted. He’d bet a week’s pay that Millie didn’t hold her daddy’s hand very much these days.

  “Hi, Mr. Sorenson.”

  He crossed the room to kneel in front of her. “Hi, Millie. I wanted to tell you that everything is okay. I know you must have been scared with everything that happened. But it was all a mistake. I’m fine. I wanted to be sure that you’re fine, too.”

  She nodded but maintained her grip on Hank’s hand.

  “The police found something of mine, a notebook, in a place where some people were hiding...uh...things they shouldn’t have. I wasn’t part of that, but because my book was there, the police officers had to check it out. Once your uncle Carter explained it all, they sent me home.”

  “So you don’t hafta go to jail?”

  “No, honey. I don’t.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Daddy said you used to be in—”

  “Mills.” Hank’s voice held that tone that anyone who had ever had a parent would recognize right away—the one that said I told you not to talk about that.

  Xander didn’t look at Hank. “Yeah, Millie. I was an idiot a few years ago and I landed in jail. But I learned my lesson, and I’m not breaking any more laws. So you don’t need to worry, okay? The police were just doing their job. Everyone is okay.”

  “Okay.” She said it in a whisper, but she managed a small smile. “Cady cried for a minute after you left. But Mommy found some cookies for her and that kept her happy until Aunt Darcy got there.”

  “Good. I’m glad she had you and your mom to help her.”

  “Me, too. Did you meet my brother? His name is Noah.” She peered around Hank to point toward Brynn, hovering in the doorway with a tentative smile on her face and a baby blanket draped over her shoulder.

  Brynn waved. “Hi, Xander. The formal introductions will have to wait. Noah’s a little busy at the moment.”

  As if on cue, a noise that resembled a baby pig’s snort sounded from beneath the blanket.

  The baby will need to stay close to me for the first few weeks while we get a nursing routine established...

  Xander smiled briefly at Brynn and then had to look to the floor, fast, before anyone could see the pain he knew must be showing on his face.

  “Anyway, Millie,” he said when he was sure he could speak, “I know you have to get to bed so I won’t keep you. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay, and say I’m sorry you got scared.”

  “Okay. Thank you for talking to me, Mr. Sorenson.”

  “Night, Millie.”

  “Come on, Mills.” Brynn extended her free hand. “Let’s get those teeth brushed.”

  “Thanks for letting me talk to her, Hank. I won’t keep you.”

  “Not a problem. Actually, let me walk you to your car.”

  “That’s o—”

  “Yeah, I know it’s okay. Humor me.” Hank’s words were mild, but Xander got the message.

  They walked in silence until they were halfway to the car, where Hank stopped and leaned up against the rock wall that separated the house from the cabins. Xander hoped to hell Hank didn’t have anything major on his mind. He wasn’t up for much more tonight.

  “Good call on coming over,” Hank said. “I think she’s a lot more settled now.”

  “That’s why I did it.”

  Hank shifted from one foot to the other. “Look, Xander. I know you were helping Heather with a work project, but Brynn talks to Darcy, and the two of them have this idea that—”

  “That there’s something going on between me and Heather?”

  Hank nodded. “Not that it’s any of my business.” He paused before adding, “But Millie is.”

&nb
sp; Damn it. How many times was he going to have to defend himself in one day?

  “Hank,” he said, crossing his arms against the night wind, “I get that you don’t want Millie being scared by things like what happened today. I can’t blame you for that. My kid got scared, too, so believe me, I understand.”

  Hank shifted. “It’s nothing against you, okay? It’s—I don’t know. Circumstances.”

  “Come on, Hank. I’ve known you since that first year Ian and I were roommates. You were, what? Thirteen, fourteen? I think we’re past the point of bullshitting each other.”

  It was too dark to be certain, but Xander was pretty sure Hank had gone a little red. “Xander, listen. I know you’re a decent guy. I don’t know what made you go offtrack, but whatever it was, I believe it’s behind you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “But that doesn’t mean I want my kid to keep coming home with stories about police cars and handcuffs.”

  “There were no cuffs.”

  Hank motioned with his hand. “Figure of speech? She never said anything like that.”

  “Good.”

  Silence fell between them. Xander wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say.

  “For the record,” he said, treading carefully, “there is nothing romantic between me and Heather.”

  At least not anymore. Or ever again, as far as he could see.

  Hank nodded. “Okay then.”

  Xander was tempted to let it drop, until he remembered that this was the one person who could keep Heather from having joint custody of Millie.

  Heather might have ripped his heart out today, but that didn’t mean he wanted her to lose out on time with her kid.

  “But if there was...” He needed to find out how badly Hank might object. “If something were to develop between us, tell me, Hank. What would you do?”

  “What does it matter?”

  “Humor me.”

  “I...” Hank’s voice trailed off. There was just enough light shining out of the house to make out the way he shifted uncomfortably.

  “When you and Heather got married and had Millie, I thought you were making a mistake. I didn’t know you very well, didn’t know her at all, but I knew that you had a tough road ahead. Turns out it was tougher than anyone could have expected.”

  Hank said nothing. Probably because he knew where this was going.

  “Then you found Brynn. Did anyone expect it to fail because you made a mistake in the past? Did anyone tell you to put your divorce lawyer on speed dial because, you know, you failed once so it was bound to happen again?”

  “That’s enough, Xander.”

  Yeah. Yeah, it was.

  “Look. I know there’s a big difference between getting married young and hacking yourself into jail. But the fact is, you are a different person than you were back then. People know that. They’re happy to give you the benefit of the doubt and wish you well and give you a hand, because they know that all of us screw up. Some of us do it more consciously than others, but still. Does that mean that the thirty-plus years I’ve been a law-abiding citizen are always going to be canceled out by the one year I wasn’t?”

  “Not always. No.” Hank’s voice dropped, as if he regretted what he had to say next. “But the thing is, Xander, some years carry a hell of a lot more weight than others.”

  There was no denying the truth of Hank’s words. Even though Hank had no idea that it was this year—not the one he’d spent in jail—that would weigh most on Xander for the rest of his life.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  FRIDAY MORNING BRIGHT and early saw Heather pulling up to Millie’s school for an assembly. It was the monthly Recognition Ceremony, and on Wednesday Millie had announced, with wonder in her voice, that she would be receiving that month’s Citizenship Award, and, “Oh, Mom, you have to come see me get it!”

  “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” Heather had said, only to be hit with a wave of memory.

  Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, babe.

  She hadn’t heard from Xander since Sunday night. Not that she could blame him. It took all her will to keep from texting him. She had to remind herself over and over that if something happened to him, she would hear of it through the North connection.

  He was fine. She knew that. At least, her head knew it.

  Her heart wasn’t so sure.

  But it was probably better this way. They both needed time to stop hearing the echoes of everything that had been said. A few days, a couple of weeks to let the worst of the hurt and anger die down, and then maybe—hopefully—they could start building their new normal. With luck and determination, they might even be on friendly ground by the time the baby arrived.

  Right. And maybe the baby would sleep through the night right from birth. It could happen, but the odds were seriously against it.

  Probably about the same as the odds that you’d get pregnant after having your tubes tied.

  She frowned and tried to shake Leah’s words from her head as she hurried down the artwork-lined halls to the school gymnasium. She had to stop swimming in memory and stay grounded in the moment. Here and now. Her and Millie.

  And Hank, perched on a folding chair at the front of the gymnasium. Millie had mentioned that he would attend. She didn’t have a problem with him being there. After all, they were both Millie’s parents, but ever since the night of the chicken noodle soup, Heather had felt a little...well...self-conscious around him. Like he knew.

  Paranoia? Maybe. Ridiculously so, actually, since at some point the truth would be evident to anyone with eyes.

  But she wasn’t ready for a public declaration yet. And it wasn’t paranoia to think that he might pick up on something that the rest of the world would miss, since he had been part of her one and only previous pregnancy.

  Not that he would care.

  Oh God, she was definitely losing her marbles. Maybe she should just start wearing a Baby on Board shirt.

  “Hi.” She deliberately took the seat beside Hank. Take that, stupid paranoid fears. “No Brynn today?”

  “Noah’s got himself on a new schedule. He wakes up around four thirty or five and then conks back out at eight or nine.” A wry smile crossed Hank’s face. “We didn’t think he could add much today besides a distraction.”

  “Here’s hoping this phase is short-lived.”

  “It could be worse. He’s sleeping right through until then, so we’re getting a good long chunk of sleep. And Brynn’s a morning person anyway.”

  Teachers began leading their classes into the gym at that point, making further conversation almost impossible. But Heather couldn’t keep from wondering about shifting schedules...and naptimes...and distractions...and meeting the needs of two children when there was only one parent in residence...

  I’m trying to ask you to marry me.

  “Heather? Are you okay?”

  She could just hear his question below the din of voices. “Fine.”

  “Are you sure? You were kind of white for a second there.”

  “I’m—Oh, here comes Millie.”

  Thank God for small miracles.

  Millie waved as she took her place on the other side of the microphone. The school principal strode in, shook hands all around, and the ceremony began.

  Half an hour later, Millie had been suitably honored and photographed. She scooted over to Heather and Hank, her cheeks flushed and the plaque proclaiming her Citizen of the Month clasped tight in her arms.

  Hank tugged on her braid. “Great job, Mills. Mommy and I are very proud of you.”

  “Are we allowed to give you a hug?” Heather asked, shooting a glance toward Millie’s class, seated near the front while they waited their turn to exit.

  “Um...sure. But just a quick one, ’ka
y?”

  Heather bit back a laugh as she gave Millie a fast kiss on the forehead. Hank settled for an arm around Millie’s shoulders and a kiss on the top of her head.

  “Have a great day, Model Citizen. See you after school.”

  Millie blushed, nodded and joined her classmates. Heather swung her purse over her shoulder and turned to Hank.

  “I suppose we should be grateful we’re even allowed that much in front of her friends,” she said.

  “Yeah.” He nodded. “Pretty soon we probably won’t even be allowed in the same room.”

  He fell into step beside her as they found the exit, but said nothing as they made their way out of the building.

  Heather almost got to the parking lot before she had to ask. “Hank...has Millie said anything to you about what happened on Sunday?”

  “You mean with Xander?”

  She stared down at her feet. “Right. I tried to talk to her about it on Wednesday, but she was so excited about the award that—anyway. I just wanted to, you know. Be sure.”

  They had reached the visitor parking spaces where her little car was dwarfed by Hank’s truck. “She was fine.” Hank leaned against the truck, Mr. Casual.

  She didn’t buy it for a minute.

  “Xander came over that night,” he said. “To let Millie know he wasn’t in jail or anything.”

  “Oh.” She hadn’t expected that. It must have happened right after he left her place. “That was, um, decent of him.”

  “Yeah, well, he’s a decent guy.”

  Wait a minute. Was Hank defending Xander?

  “I thought you weren’t a fan. Of Xander, I mean.”

  “I had some—I guess you’d say concerns. Questions. But I talked to him and he...anyway. We’re good.”

  There had to be more than Hank was telling her. He wasn’t one to change his mind on a whim.

  “I’m glad to hear that.” It was the best she could manage.

  “He took a wrong turn. A seriously wrong one, no doubt about it. But he’s back on the right path now.” Hank shrugged. “And seriously, who hasn’t done something even when they knew it was a mistake that could mess up the rest of their life?”