Ethan

by Chris Keniston

  "In the café," Dorothy said.

  "Nope." Eileen set her cards face down on the table and looked at each of her friends. "A furry gray dog introduced them."

  "The dog?" Sally May dropped her hands to the table, almost forgetting to turn her cards face down.

  "Well." Eileen picked her cards back up. "Probably not."

  "Why probably not?" Ruth Ann asked.

  "They were in California at the time."

  Both Sally May’s and Dorothy's hands fell to the table, concealing their cards from view a forgotten cause. Ruth Ann stared at her, slack jawed.

  Dorothy spoke first. "Your family is right. You've lost your mind."

  "You can't seriously believe there's a matchmaking dog running around the country marrying off your nephews?" Sally May said.

  Ruth Ann shook her head. "Are you sure your niece hasn't been slipping you an overdose of booze balls?"

  "What I need, ladies, is a little bit of social club ingenuity. I've got a red blooded though slightly gimpy nephew and an attractive smart woman with two things in common—my niece and a shaggy dog. All I need is a plan to help nature run its course."

  ***

  What was the point? Allison threw off the covers and sprang to her feet with the force of a woman running from a burning bed. She'd tossed and turned enough to have carved a rut in the luxury bed. The clock on the nightstand flashed 10 a.m. She shouldn't have bothered going back to sleep.

  Unable to really sleep, at two o'clock in the morning she'd pulled out her laptop and attempted to update some requested reports. “Attempt” being the key word. Reading incoming medical jargon instead hadn't gone over any better, and she'd finally settled for catching up on the emails she'd ignored for almost two days. By six in the morning she'd made another effort at getting some sleep before Ethan, Catherine and baby Brittany arrived.

  The occasional visions of Francine and her in happier days blended with nightmarish scenarios that, in order to maintain her own sanity, Allison had long ago learned to bury deep in the back of her mind. The odd mixture sprinted back and forth from a semi-conscious state until Allison climbed out of bed feeling more exhausted now than she had when she'd gone to bed the night before. Standing in front of her open suitcase, she picked up a blouse. What did a woman wear to meet her niece for the first time?

  A rap at the door dragged her attention away from her wardrobe.

  "Knock knock," Meg said softly through the closed door.

  "Come in."

  Juggling a full tray, her hostess shoved the door open. "Since you missed breakfast, thought you might like a little something before Ethan gets here."

  A carafe, a teapot, an empty mug, a plate of mixed fruit, a muffin, another dish with scrambled eggs and bacon, and a glass of orange juice all bumped up against each other covering every available inch of space. "I thought you said you don't cook?"

  Meg set the tray down and smiled. "You were listening."

  "It's a key element of my job." She reached for a strip of bacon. "Sometimes the only way to uncover what is really wrong with a patient is to read between the lines and listen to what they're not telling you."

  "I see." Meg took a step back. "I didn't know if you'd prefer coffee in the morning so there's coffee in the glass carafe and tea in the pot. The muffins are homemade so I'd make sure to at least have a taste. If there's something you might like that I didn't think of, just whistle."

  "This is very nice of you." Allison bit into the bacon.

  "We aim to please. Besides, I'd hate to have you leave us a bad review."

  The twinkle in Meg's eyes at the comment made Allison laugh in earnest. She'd needed the release. "I don't know why I'm so scared."

  "Because Brittany is important to you."

  Allison nodded. A lot of things were becoming important.

  The rumble of an engine carried up to the room and Meg immediately glanced toward the window. Her eyes blinking, she made a slight hissing sound and turned back around. "You may have to skip the coffee. They're here."

  "Now?" Allison ran to the window. A massive pickup truck with four doors came to a stop in front of the house. "He's early!"

  "Take a breath," Meg said slowly. "I'll keep everyone happy till you're ready."

  "Ready. Right." Allison looked at her suitcase again.

  "Brittany won't care what you wear. This is casual country. A pair of jeans will be fine."

  "If I'd brought a pair."

  "Then whatever. Stop worrying." Meg gently patted her arm. "See you downstairs."

  Allison nodded. "Thanks."

  The bedroom door closed and Allison was alone and about to put the fast art of washing and dressing before the fire-heated water ran cold into practice in that glorious bathroom. In less than fifteen minutes she was downstairs and following the voices into the kitchen.

  "Good morning." Ethan must have heard her steps because he was on his feet by the time she turned the corner.

  "Please sit down."

  Ethan bobbed his head and leaned back onto the stool.

  Allison was all set to tell him about elevating his leg when she spotted the baby in Meg's arms. "Oh my."

  "Looks who's here," Meg said to the baby in a soft lilt. "It's your aunt Allison."

  Without thinking, Allison crossed the room to where Francine's little girl was, but before extending her arms to the baby, she instinctively turned to Ethan. He gave her a quick nod and the next thing she knew she was looking into laughing green eyes.

  "She likes you," Meg said. "Why don't you two go sit out on the back porch? I've got a few things to take care of. When Catherine returns for you after her errands, I'll fix us some lunch."

  Ethan nodded and waited for her to lead the way. On the porch she turned. The man, tall as a small tree with eyes so green they reminded her of the marbles her neighbor collected as a kid, used muscles strong enough to swing all six-foot-plus of him on crutches across the house with the ease of a man with two good feet.

  Forest green rockers lined the outdoor seating area. She picked the one closest to the door and eased into it, swaying back and forth with Brittany in her arms. "You are too sweet." The baby latched onto a finger and Allison felt her cheeks pull into a wide smile. She turned to share the moment with the only other person around and slammed into that blasted unreadable face. Ethan would have made a great Beefeater standing guard at Buckingham Palace.

  Ethan picked one of two wicker chairs that didn't rock. Facing her, with the arm of his crutch he hooked and dragged a side table around to prop his leg on. "Just so you don't have to fight the urge to tell me to raise my leg."

  "I didn't say anything."

  "No, but you were thinking it."

  She bit back a smile and turned her attention again to her niece. Happy green eyes twinkled at her. "You're as pretty as your mama." Again she glanced at Ethan, and was surprised to see his expression had softened. Whether it was at the baby or the mention of Francine, she didn't know.

  Sitting the baby on her knees, Allison jiggled her legs up and down, making Brittany bounce and giggle.

  "I didn't know she likes that." Ethan actually smiled.

  "Most babies do. They love movement."

  "You're good with her."

  "Thank you." Allison opened her eyes and mouth wide a few times and Brittany's face lit up with amusement. "They really are easy to entertain at this age. I think she has your eyes."

  Ethan looked surprised.

  "Francine's are more blue." Allison stopped bouncing her legs and faced Ethan. "Did you love her?"

  He shook his head. There was no moment of hesitation, no contemplation, consideration, just a movement of his head from left to right and back.

  Allison began bouncing again, keeping her eyes on the baby. She shouldn't have felt relieved. "How long were you together?"

  "A few days."

  Her knees stopped and her head whipped around to face him. At least he had the decency to look contrite. Not that it was hi
s fault her sister slept with men she couldn't possibly know well.

  "I did like her."

  That was something, she supposed.

  "And I'd have been there for her, as much as I could, if I'd known she was pregnant."

  Studying him a moment, she saw sincerity in his eyes. "So she never tried to contact you before…" She couldn't say “before she'd abandoned her baby” out loud.

  Ethan shook his head again. "Not a word." With his good hand he began rubbing the side of his broken leg. At the same time the thumb on his injured hand rubbed across the tips of his fingers. He had to be uncomfortable.

  Allison shifted her niece so she could play with her fingers and see her daddy. "I don't understand how she could walk away like she did."

  "I stopped trying to understand. A different question haunts me."

  Looking up, she met his gaze. "What's that?"

  "Is Fancy going to come back."

  Chapter Eleven

  Several things crossed Ethan's mind. When the time came, would he be allowed to do physical therapy for his leg and hand in Butler Springs to stay near Brittany or would he need to return to home base? How would having a dependent affect his performance? He'd seen it before, the best SEALs, Rangers, and jet jocks lose their edge once they were worried about making a wife a widow or a child an orphan. But right now he mostly wondered, could he do right by this precious little girl? He leaned forward and brushed the back of his knuckle against Brittany's cheek and she rewarded him with a huge gurgling smile. "That's my girl."

  Allison's expression shifted.

  He wasn't sure exactly what he was reading—hell, he was as bad at reading a woman's mind as he was good at flying his helo—but if he had to guess he'd venture a wave of sadness or maybe melancholy, or could it be longing that crossed her face? "Do you want children?"

  Her face lifted to his and her eyes moved about as though searching for the answer in the distance. "I didn’t think so."

  "Didn't or don't?"

  "I'm not sure." She lifted Brittany up high so her feet dangled and then Allison made munching sounds as she pretended to nibble on Brittany's toes. After a couple of repeats, she set the baby back on her lap and this time he was sure it was longing he saw in her eyes. "I guess I do."

  "For what it's worth, looks to me like you'd be good at the job."

  A sweet smile crossed her lips and a hint of pink tinged her cheeks. He liked the way she blushed when paid a compliment. She'd done it a couple of times as Brooks gushed over her accomplishments last night, but Ethan had noticed the blush came more when the praise was personal.

  Her fingers trapped in Brittany's grip, the baby shifted from deep examination to the occasional tasting and Allison cast her gaze to a distant point in the yard. "We didn't have the ideal upbringing. My parents traveled a lot when we were little, but I remember Mum being caring and gentle when they were home. I was only eight when they were killed in a plane crash. Fancy was almost twelve."

  "You call her Fancy?" He'd thought it was a nickname Francine had chosen to avoid giving her real name.

  A smile teased at one side of her mouth. "I couldn't say Francine when I was little. Even though my mother detested it, my dad called her Franny. Somehow I came up with a combination of both and she got dubbed Fancy. I'm not sure which name mother disliked more."

  "Your mom liked the name she'd chosen." Made sense to him. Southerners were notorious for saddling cute little kids with massively long names like Jefferson Beauregard or Abigail Elizabeth and frowning if any human being dared call the child anything less than their full Christian name.

  "Mum was English. I think it ruffled her natural sensibilities."

  "I gather your father was not?"

  "Born and bred Yankee." She wiggled her fingers at the baby's tummy. "Dad didn't have any living family so we went to live with my Aunt Millicent after the accident. She was an antique dealer in Boston. She was completely out of her depth with us. I know she loved us, but she'd come from a mindset of children should be seen and not heard. She expected us to be little adults. It didn't go well. I was able to lose myself in my books. I guess you could call me the brainiac. Fancy wasn't very academically inclined. Another sore spot with my aunt. The best times we had were when she went on a long buying trip and left us with the housekeeper."

  He'd never asked Fancy how old she was, but now that he thought about it Allison looked awfully young to be as accomplished a physician as Brooks made her out to be. "So you were smart?"

  "Skipped second grade and then fourth. By then my aunt was already having trouble with Francine—"

  "Until now I hadn't realized you're younger than your sister."

  Allison nodded. "Which was why my aunt decided my being the youngest in my class wasn't in my best interest. Instead she moved me to a more structured college prep for girls."

  "Structured." Code word for hard ass. "How did that go?"

  "Fine, I suppose. I liked books. They didn't care if I was younger or smarter than they were. I graduated at sixteen, got a scholarship to Stanford, and took it."

  "Getting away from the aunt?"

  Allison blinked at him. "I, uh, hadn't considered that." She shook her head. "A postcard had come to my aunt's house from Francine the year before telling us she'd gotten married and was happy in sunny California. Aunt Millicent wanted me to go to Harvard. I wanted to be closer to Francine, just in case she reached out to me again. Maybe deep down, like my sister, I wanted to get as geographically far away from New England too."

  "The mind is an interesting thing."

  This time Allison smiled. "I almost became a psychiatrist. Trying to understand what went wrong with my sister, what could I have done differently to make things better—"

  "Like the child of divorce who thinks their parents behavior is their fault." His heart ached for the hurt child she must have been. "You were just a kid yourself. Nothing anyone could have done."

  "I know that here," she tapped her temple, "but here," she tapped her heart, "not so much."

  "So you passed on psychiatry?"

  She chuckled. "Let go of the mind but couldn't quite let go of the brain. I started my residency in neurology. I suppose I still needed to understand how the brain worked. Wanted to be the best brain surgeon ever—"

  "Brooks could have used you if you had."

  "Why is that?" she frowned.

  "Kid we grew up with moved away for college, got married, and recently moved back, but he was a changed man."

  "In what way?"

  "As a boy he was the kindest, gentlest soul. When he moved home he was aggressive, short tempered and my brother's wife Toni was the first to notice signs of physical abuse with his wife."

  "A tumor?" she mumbled.

  "Yeah, but no one suspected it soon enough. I think Brooks blames himself for that."

  "Nonsense. I know some of the most skilled neurologists in the world who don't recognize a tumor until a PET scan points it out."

  "That's pretty much what happened, except due to recent events, the guy may wind up in jail if the doctors can't convince a judge his behavior was caused by the tumor."

  "Well that shouldn't be hard."

  "You'd think. I'm not fully aware of the issues, but in a nutshell the tumor is in a delicate place, not the sort of thing surgeons in Butler Springs are known for, and it's complicated because he's a prisoner in the court system. For now, he's undergoing some treatment in an effort to shrink the tumor, and his criminal future is sketchy."

  Allison nodded with each sentence. "Maybe I can help."

  "You do brain surgery or do you have a Texas judge in your family tree?"

  She chuckled again. "No brain surgery and no judges. But I've got some great contacts. I'll get with Brooks later today, get a more detailed report. See if I can help."

  "Thanks. That would be appreciated. I've not met our friend's wife but she's got the whole town looking out for her. You do a lot of volunteer work, don't you?"
/>   She nodded again. "Both home and overseas."

  "Paying penance?"

  Her eyes flew open wide. "No. I like helping."

  Altruism was not a difficult concept to swallow. Ethan flew into some crazy dangerous places under miserable circumstances because he liked being the good guy. He liked knowing his family could go to the grocery store or drive down the road without fear or concerns that some nutcase who wanted to meet 72 virgins was going to blow them to pieces. That they could go to church on Sundays and say grace at the dinner table without fear of retribution. But he also liked the thrill of flying, the thrill of beating the odds, and wondered if the monkey on Allison's back wasn't still trying to right what went so wrong in her own sister so many years ago.

  ***

  After playing nicely with no distraction other than her aunt's long fingers and occasional interactions, Brittany let out the first signs of a fussy nature. "Uh oh," Allison stood and looked to Ethan. "Diaper, hungry or tired?"

  Ethan grabbed his crutches and stood as well. "Could be hungry or wet. Even tired she doesn't really fuss, she just rubs her eyes or tugs at her ear and settles in for a nap wherever she is."

  "Okay. Then should we start with the diaper or a bottle?"

  "I'd go with bottle. She does seem to have a pretty healthy appetite for a baby. Diaper bag is in the kitchen." Ethan led the way back into the house.

  "You get around pretty good on those."

  He unzipped the bag on the counter and pulled out a premade bottle. "I'd rather be walking." His gaze darted over to the microwave. "Would you mind?"

  "Not at all." Accepting the bottle, she crossed the room. "How long?"

  "Twenty seconds is enough."

  "It has to be frustrating." Baby in one arm, she waited for the timer to ding.

  "I don't care about the crutches. I've got plenty of upper body strength. A few weeks on these is a piece of cake compared to regular PT. It's not being able to walk with her, push her in a stroller, carry the bottle to the microwave."