Читать книгу When A Hero Comes Along - Teresa Southwick, Teresa Southwick - Страница 9

Kate was just taking a drink from her iced tea and nearly choked. “Don’t you know it’s not nice to make a joke when someone’s drinking?”

Joe wasn’t being funny. He was dead serious, although he hadn’t intended to propose. If he’d planned it, there would have been flowers and candles, not harsh fluorescent lights. And the food would be better than flame-broiled cardboard with a shot of cholesterol. But now that the thought was out there, it felt right.

“I’m not joking. We should get married,” he said.

“No, we shouldn’t.” She stabbed at the ice in her cup with the straw.

“Why not?”

“Do you really want me to start? The thing is, I only get a half hour for lunch,” she said.

Irritation knotted inside him. He didn’t remember her being this sarcastic. But then, all his memories were from before he’d told her they were over. She probably had reason to give him a hard time. Likely it’d be a good idea to let her get this out of her system.

“Take your best shot,” he said. “Give me one good reason why it would be wrong.”

“Just one?” she said, staring at him.

“For starters.”

“Okay.” She nodded thoughtfully. “Here’s one. We hardly know each other.”

“So marriage will give us a chance to get acquainted.”

“Oh, please,” she said. “That’s just stupid.”

“People do it all the time.”

“Not this person.” She twisted the dangling strands of her ponytail around her finger. “My life is all in place. Why would I want to turn it upside down?”

Speaking of upside-down life, he’d spent a whole lot of time in dark cellars, caves and God knows where else thinking about the baby. Her letter had said she was having a boy, right after she’d admitted she’d considered not telling him at all. That she was okay with raising the child alone and not to feel any obligation to be involved. Be well and happy. Kate, she’d signed the thing. He was well, but he hadn’t been happy for longer than he could remember.

Scratch that. He’d been happy when he was with her. But more important than either of them was his son.

“What about the baby?” he asked.

“What about him?” she answered, her eyes flashing. “J.T. is perfect. I’m taking care of him just fine.”

“In your letter you said you were okay with raising him alone, but—”

“I am,” she interrupted. “Although I don’t really remember what I said.”

He remembered. He’d had it with him when he went down, hid the paper and read it so often he’d memorized every word while he’d been detained.

“You’re looking pretty intense,” she said warily.

“Just thinking.” He leaned his forearms on the table. “Wouldn’t you like some help with the baby?”

“I don’t need help. Not from you.”

“I’m J.T.’s father.”

“That’s a fact. And here’s another one. You dumped me.”

“I didn’t know you were pregnant.”

“Okay. But your gut instinct was to walk away from me. Now I’m supposed to believe that I’m the woman of your dreams because I had your baby?” She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “I don’t think so.”

“I was being deployed. It wasn’t fair to ask you to wait.”

“You didn’t ask. You didn’t give me a chance to decide if I wanted to wait for you. You just assumed and didn’t give a rat’s behind about how I felt. It was selfish.”

Was that hurt in her eyes? He’d walked away because it was better for him, so he’d take responsibility for the selfish part. But he hadn’t meant to hurt her. He’d been doing what was best for both of them.

If best was not being able to forget her, then his strategy had been a rousing success. If aching to feel her in his arms and see her bright smile and deep dimples was optimum, then his course of action had been a clear victory. If best was beating back the yearning to contact her, then he’d been right on.

The biggest hell of captivity, even worse than the beatings and losing another marine, was not being able to tell her he wanted his son. He wanted to be obligated, to be involved. To pick up where he’d walked out and start fresh. Who knows? They might have been married now. But judging by the resentment in her eyes and the edge to her voice, it was going to be an uphill battle.

“That time—Us—It’s history,” he said.

“And the past is where it’s going to stay. Because the thing about you being selfish is that now I know. There’s no taking it back. And it’s a red flag for me that you’re probably not very good marriage material.”

“Now who’s assuming?”

“It’s not an assumption if you’ve got history to back it up.”

He ran his fingers through his hair. It was longer than military issue now and felt weird, different. Kind of like this conversation. He’d dug himself a foxhole and now he had to fight his way out of it.

“The most important thing is J.T.”

She nodded. “I agree.”

“He needs a mother and a father.”

“And he’s got one of each. There’s no reason to get wild and do something stupid.”

“I want to be there for him,” Joe said.

He’d nearly gone crazy, bound and blindfolded somewhere in the bowels of Afghanistan, knowing he was not only MIA as far as the military was concerned, but also during Kate’s pregnancy and the birth of his child. Not knowing if Kate and the baby were okay. He couldn’t be involved then because fate got in his way. But now he’d go to the mat with fate for the chance to know his son.

Kate frowned as she studied him. “Do you really believe a piece of paper and a couple of half-hearted ‘I dos’ are going to convince me that you’re a forever-after kind of guy?”

Of course not. He had up-close-and-in-your-face experience that a marriage license didn’t guarantee fidelity, loyalty and honesty. His ex-wife had barely waited until he’d deployed on his first tour before taking up with his brother. Out of sight, out of mind. But the betrayal was a double whammy and it had hurt so damn much that he didn’t want to be in that situation again. He wouldn’t let himself care. And he’d started to care too much for Kate so he’d broken it off.

The only good thing fate had done was deliver that letter before his last mission. Thoughts of seeing his son had gotten him through the darkest time of his life. He was here and Kate was going to have to deal with him.

“When it comes to J.T. I’m a forever-after kind of guy,” he said.

“But you also brought up marriage and I keep coming back to the fact that I don’t know you. Not then and not now.” She pulled at the paper that had covered her straw, shredding it over the burger she’d barely touched. “On top of that, you’re not the same man I knew before.”

No kidding. He was a hard man. War had a way of doing that to you. Scenes flashed through his mind. The rat-a-tat of machine-gun fire. The whine of a mortar. The explosion of IEDs—improvised explosive devices—while he was inserting or extracting combat teams. Screams from the wounded. The knot in his belly when he landed in a hot zone and the wounded were hastily loaded on board. Taking off and flying his heart out to get them medical attention before it was too late.

The blood. The moans.

If a man didn’t get hard, he didn’t get through. You turned off the feelings to get the job done.

“And you’re not the same woman I left behind. You can’t go through the process of bringing a life into the world without it changing you.”

“We finally agree about something. I am a mother now. I love J.T. more than anything in the world. And I’d do anything—” her eyes glowed with intensity “—anything in the world to protect him. It’s my job.”

“Is part of your job to protect him from his father?”

“It is if you’re going to waltz in, make him love you then disappear.”

Before he could respond to that, his pager went off. He pulled it out of his pocket and checked the digital display. “Dispatch,” he said. “The emergency code.” He called and listened to whoever was on the other end at the office, then met her gaze. “I have to go. Another patient for Mercy Medical.”

“I have to go back to work, too.”

They both stood and he looked down at her. “This discussion isn’t over, Kate.”

She sighed. “I know.”

Without another word, she walked away.

After picking J.T. up from Marilyn Watson, his babysitter, Kate took him home and changed quickly into shorts and a T-shirt. The baby fussed a little in his infant seat while she brushed her hair then put on a little blush and mascara. Earlier today, Joe had said they weren’t finished talking. And judging by the look on his face, their conversation would continue soon. He’d surprised her last night, but this time she intended to be prepared for battle. He was a warrior, she intended to fight like a girl.

In the living room, she lifted her son from the infant seat, kissing his soft cheek. “It’s bath time, Joey T.”

Talking nonstop nonsense to him, she walked into the spare bath off the hall. After assembling soap and washcloth, and filling the J.T.-sized tub, she got the baby naked and sat him in the lukewarm water, one hand firmly holding his chubby upper arm. Squealing with delight, he splashed away. They both loved this nightly ritual because they were both tired after a long day. Evenings were rarely serene and she counted on this happy time before the unrestful portion of the program commenced.

“I saw your Dad—Daddy—” Kate stared at the baby who had just discovered his navel and was poking at it with one finger.

When Joe had ignored her letter telling him he was going to be a father, daddy was the last thing she would have called him. Jerk was on her list and a few other, even less flattering, names. Then she’d tried her darnedest to forget him.

Now she knew why he hadn’t responded and her heart ached for him, what he must have gone through. She felt awful for believing the worst of him and knew part of that was about her own baggage before meeting him. But his rejection gave her more emotional baggage for the future.

Now he was back and they shared a child. There was every indication that he was dead serious about sharing this child.

She took the washcloth and washed her son’s head, gently letting the water trickle over his face. “I got a marriage proposal today, J.T.”

He blinked away moisture, then stared up at her with Joe’s blue eyes. She’d always known he favored his father, but seeing the man again confirmed that as much as she’d wanted to forget Joe, she would always see him in their son. And something else hadn’t changed.

In spite of the hurt and anger, Joe Morgan still made her knees weak and her heart beat too fast. That did not make her happy.

“Your daddy asked me to marry him.” She decided daddy was okay. “What do you think about that?”

The baby grinned up at her, then hit the water with his free hand, sending it splashing everywhere. When Kate laughed, he gurgled out a giggle, wet, sloppy and joyous. She’d never known it was possible to love this much and every day her feelings for this little boy got bigger. She’d meant every word she’d said to Joe about protecting her child.

“So you like the idea of him being around, huh?” J.T. splashed his approval, but Kate wasn’t happy. Already he’d brought up the M word, but it had everything to do with the baby, not her. Nothing about J.T. was wrong, but tying herself legally to Joe because of that seemed like a disaster in the making.

Unlike her father, Joe had come back. But for how long? He’d given her the best four weeks of her life, then abruptly told her it was over. Why should she believe he wouldn’t do that again? This time to J.T.?

She washed the baby all over and held on tight to her squirmy, slippery little guy. When he was rinsed, she lifted him out and wrapped a towel around him, although she was the wetter of the two. In his bedroom, she settled him on the changing table and handed him a toy to distract him while she put him in a diaper and lightweight jammies.

She brushed his dark hair with a baby brush and smiled tenderly down. “Life was a lot simpler yesterday, buddy. I only had to worry about you and me. When your daddy showed up, things got really complicated for Mommy.”

Yesterday her life had been all about the stress of work and raising her son. Now she had conflict.

Kate carried him back to the living room and spread a big quilt on the floor, scattered some toys and put him down, hoping she’d have a few minutes to grab a frozen dinner before he demanded her attention. After popping one in the microwave, she turned the machine on.

J.T. didn’t demand her attention, but the ringing doorbell got it in a big way. She didn’t have to be psychic to know who was there. Looking down, she sighed at her wet front. She told herself the only reason she cared about her appearance was to make him regret walking away from her and the gullible part of her almost believed that.

The doorbell rang again and she looked through the peephole to confirm her suspicion. Then she said to J.T., “Someone’s here to see you, big guy.”

After turning the dead bolt, she opened the door and felt her heart race at the sight of all that tall, dark and handsome intensity. “Hi, Joe.”

“Hi.”

“Come in.”

When he walked past, she inhaled the wonderful masculine scent. And speaking of masculine, he had a serious scattering of beard that had been five o’clock shadow several hours ago. Maybe he’d been in too big a hurry to shave. Or he knew how susceptible she was to the scruffy look.

She shut the door and found him staring down at the baby. The awed expression on his face worked over her hormones just as efficiently as the scruffy look.

“He’s awake tonight,” Joe said.

“And clean.” The microwave beeped, signaling her dinner was done.

At the same time J.T. started to cry. Hurrying over, she scooped him up, then went into the kitchen and started to take the one-dish meal out of the oven.

“Can I hold him?” Joe asked.

She hesitated, something she would have done if a stranger on the street had asked her the same question. When his eyes narrowed, she knew Joe had noticed.

He wasn’t a stranger. Not entirely. More important, he was J.T.’s father. “Sure.”

When she put the child in his arms, Joe’s intensity disappeared, replaced by tenderness. “Hey, buddy.”

Kate watched her son as he stared up at his father with wide, wary eyes. He was a sturdy little guy and she didn’t have to warn Joe about supporting his head. He’d missed that stage—not because he’d wanted to.

Joe met her gaze, something close to fatherly pride in his own. “He’s pretty beefy.”

“Yeah. He’s always been a good eater.”

“Has he?”

A twinge of regret fluttered through her because he’d missed that, too. And there was no way to make up for it. But this was a photo op if she’d ever seen one because he was holding his son for the first time.

“I have pictures,” she said. “From the beginning.”

“I’d like to see them.” When he shifted the baby’s weight in his arms, J.T.’s soft cheek brushed against the scruff of beard. The already skittish child let out a piercing wail. “Hey, pal, what’s up?”

Looking awkward, Joe tried bouncing him, but this was unfamiliar territory and his body language said so, loud and clear. He was stiff, uncomfortable, and J.T. could feel it. His cries became more urgent—from zero to sobbing in three-point-two seconds.

Unfortunately, it was past his bedtime. J.T. was tired and beyond hope of being distracted.

“Let me have him,” she said, taking the baby.

He wanted the comfort of nursing, another nightly ritual. Another something Joe hadn’t seen and she wasn’t comfortable doing it now. But as the baby got more and more upset and nuzzled his face into her shoulder, Kate knew there was no choice.

“What can I do?” he asked.

“He wants to nurse,” she explained.

She went into the bedroom and grabbed a receiving blanket then sat on the couch hoping Joe would be as embarrassed as she was. Please God, he would take the hint and go.

When he stood his ground, she tugged up her shirt with as much dignity as possible, settled J.T. at her breast where he instantly latched on, then threw the blanket over her front. It was quiet now, except for the hum of the refrigerator.

“What happens during the day when you’re at work?” Joe asked. “How does he—I mean, obviously you don’t let him go hungry.”

The man flew helicopters, complex machinery that was beyond the average person, but the basics of breast-feeding were a mystery. It might have made her smile if she weren’t so tense about this complex mess they were in.

“I pump,” she said.

“Iron? Gas? What?” he asked.

The puzzled expression on his face was so darn cute it made her even more tense and J.T. whimpered. “It’s okay, sweet pea,” she comforted. The sound of her voice quieted him and she felt him relax.

She looked up at Joe. He stood straight and tall with booted feet braced wide apart as if he were standing guard over them, which was oddly comforting. His worn jeans and snug black T-shirt molded to his body and left none of his muscles to her imagination. And she’d imagined him a lot since he walked out on her.

“I have a breast pump that extracts the milk,” she explained. “It goes into bottles that I freeze and take to Marilyn Watson. She’s the lady I told you about who watches him while I’m at work.”

“I see.”

“He’s also starting solid food—cereal, fruit.” She saw the look on his face and added, “Pureed fruit. No teeth yet.”

“I got that.” He almost smiled before the serious expression returned. “How did you learn all this stuff?”

“OJT—on-the-job training.”

But she remembered when J.T. was brand-new and she’d felt as if someone with a warped sense of humor had thrown her into the deep end of the parenting pool. She’d been alone. On her own with a newborn. Trying to breast-feed, not knowing if J.T. was getting enough to eat. That first night the two of them cried together. But she got through it by herself. That’s how it always had been and always would be.

By the heavy, relaxed feel of him, she knew J.T. had fallen asleep. She stood and said, “I’m going to put him to bed.”

Joe nodded, but to her relief didn’t follow her into the other room. She placed the baby on his back with a light receiving blanket over his legs. It was May in Las Vegas and far from cold. The gesture was more of a “mom thing” than a necessity to keep him warm. After adjusting her shirt more modestly, she rejoined Joe.

“I got your dinner ready,” he said.

He’d set it on the bar with a glass of iced tea beside it. Although she wasn’t hungry now, she knew she needed to eat something and sat down. He stood in the kitchen across from her.

“Thanks.”

He shrugged. “I know how to get food in and out of a microwave.”

The subtext of that remark was that he didn’t know what to do with a baby. The pained regret in his expression made her want to comfort him. “Having a child might be the most natural thing in the world, but they don’t come with an instruction manual.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

She took a bite of mystery meat and studied him while she chewed and swallowed. All she could think to say was, “It’s not your fault, Joe.”

And it wasn’t. But when she’d received no response from him, she hadn’t known he was a prisoner in Afghanistan and the silence had hurt her deeply. For the second time. She never wanted to hurt like that again.

“I’ll never know what it was like to hold him as a newborn.”

“If it’s any consolation, he won’t remember that.” She finished off the mashed potatoes and washed them down with iced tea. “And it’s a good thing. I was all thumbs and he was so tiny. It took time to know what I was doing.”

“That’s all I’m asking for, Kate.” He rested muscular forearms on the countertop in front of her. His eyes sparked with intensity as they met hers. “All I want is time to know my son and learn how to take care of him. Time for him to know me, to trust me.”

“That’s the hard part,” she said. “Why should I believe you’ll stick around?”

Why should she believe he was different from the other men she’d known? The ones who’d paraded in and out of her mother’s life when she was a child. Each time she’d hoped and prayed this one would stay so she could have a family—a mom and dad like other kids. It had never happened and she didn’t want J.T. to know the same disappointment she had.

Joe looked down for several moments, then met her gaze. “I guess there’s nothing I can say to convince you. But, here’s the thing. I wasn’t here when you were pregnant or for the first months of his life. I will be around now. Count on it.”

She had to be fair; there was no choice but to give him time with his child. He was entitled to that. It wasn’t his problem that her attraction for him refused to die. Since there was no way she’d let J.T. out of her sight, she’d have to see him—and do her best to make sure history didn’t repeat itself.

The last time he’d only wanted sex. Now he was there for the baby. It had nothing to do with her, and she needed to remember that. She’d already experienced a serious level of pain on Joe’s account that was a small preview of the damage he could do to her heart.

“Okay,” she said. “You can come over.” Then she held up her finger in warning. “Just don’t bring up marriage again.”

As if that would protect her from emotional catastrophe. She could only hope.