The SEAL's Secret Daughter

by Christy Jeffries

  “Well, there’s no way any sane guy would willingly step foot past here.” Ethan jerked his thumb toward the three-way mirror outside the entrance of the changing area.

  “Hey, buddy,” a guy with a shaved head whispered conspiratorially and Ethan wanted to sink in relief at the sound of another male voice in this place. “Take it from me, the fuzzy pink bench right by the doors is the closest thing they have to a demilitarized zone. Once they get you to the cash registers, it’s too late.”

  “Can we go to the pretzel place now, Daddy?” A smiling girl about Trina’s age looped her arm through the bald man’s, forcing the guy to shift the two bags covered in the store’s rainbow logo to his free hand.

  “Only if they serve tequila there,” the guy said, rolling his eyes before smirking at Ethan. “Trust me, you’re gonna need a few drinks after you’re done here.”

  “Go on,” Ethan called out to the man, staring at the father and daughter as they left. “Save yourself.”

  Monica swatted at his bicep. But it wasn’t just a longing to escape or a desire for a cold cocktail that had caused the weight of envy to settle low in Ethan’s belly.

  “Do you think Trina will ever look at me like that?” he asked.

  “Like what?”

  “Never mind.” He shook his head and raised his voice as he tried calling for his daughter again. But this time, it came out way too loud and several customers turned to stare while a little boy in a stroller nearby started to cry. Probably because Ethan had just sounded like a recruit division commander shouting at a new recruit.

  “Why don’t I just go back and get her?” Monica finally offered and Ethan wished he would’ve just asked her in the first place.

  But she didn’t have to go very far.

  Trina’s eyes were wide when she hesitantly came out of the dressing room area and Ethan silently cursed himself for raising his voice earlier and probably startling her. He’d never been afraid of his own old man, probably because Louis Renault was never really home long enough to do much yelling. So it hadn’t occurred to him that his own daughter might have anything to legitimately fear from him.

  “Honey,” Monica said to Trina, before shooting a warning glance at Ethan. Really, neither one of them knew what had happened to her in the past, but surely Monica didn’t think he was capable of harming the girl. Did she? “We were just curious to see if you’d found any clothes you like yet.”

  Trina slowly walked toward them, wearing the same outfit she’d had on when they arrived. Her eyes were downcast and her voice soft when she replied, “I don’t know.”

  He pressed his fingers to his temples, attempting to stimulate his brain for something to say that would take the sting out of his earlier tone. “You know, Trina, all the other girls in the store are finding clothes they like.”

  This brought his daughter’s head up. “Do you wish I was more like the other girls?”

  “No. I want you to be yourself. That’s why I brought you here. So that you could pick out your own clothes.”

  Trina’s face dropped. “But I don’t know what I’m allowed to pick.”

  “Well, Ethan... I mean...your dad said that he didn’t care about the prices.” Monica got behind Ethan and used her shoulder to nudge the back of his bicep, making him step forward.

  Technically, he had said that, but it wasn’t like he wanted to throw his money away either. He tried not to pat the pocket containing his wallet. “If it’s something you like and if you’ll wear it, then let’s get it.”

  His daughter’s smile was shy and tentative at first, but when Monica nodded encouragement at the girl, Ethan realized he couldn’t place a monetary value on his daughter’s happiness.

  Or on the feeling of Monica pressed up against his side.

  A few hundred dollars later, Ethan realized that he might’ve gone a little overboard during a shopping spree that didn’t involve a single infrared light, combat boot or armor plate. Monica had tried to warn him that he should pace himself because there were only so many hoodies an eleven-year-old needed.

  “You might want to ask the cashier about signing up for their rewards program for future discounts,” Monica suggested under her breath when Ethan handed over his credit card. “You’ll have to do this all over again when the summer clothes come out.”

  Ethan gulped at the thought of making a return trip to the mall again in a couple of months. Not that he’d minded buying things for his daughter. Hell, he hadn’t ever bought so much as a diaper, let alone paid child support. So a new wardrobe barely even put a dent in his guilty conscience or made up for all lost time. He just didn’t want to have to be present for the process of trying on everything all over again and deciding whether to go with the denim popover dress or the flutter sleeve romper.

  God, he hated the fact that he now knew what a romper was.

  “No problem,” he said, trying to scoop up all six large shopping bags off the counter at once. Trina was quick to grab the one he’d missed and held it close to her torso. It was the same way he’d carried his first set of Navy dress blues back to the barracks. Ethan had earned that uniform and it was the first item of clothing he’d ever had tailored especially for him. He’d grown a few sizes since then, but he still had the thing carefully packed away in one of his boxes at home.

  So instead of insisting on carrying all the bags, Ethan decided to let his child have her own moment of pride for something new. He winked at Trina before asking, “Should we go get some gedunk?”

  She scrunched up her nose. “What’s that?”

  “Some junk food. Like a snack to reward ourselves for getting through this.”

  Trina nodded and all but skipped out into the mall, as though trying on all those clothes hadn’t completely wiped her out. Hell, all he’d done was sit there on that stupid, safe pink bench and nod his approval, yet he was completely exhausted.

  Monica hung back with Ethan as they followed the girl’s lead toward the food court. He’d hoped that it was because the woman simply enjoyed his company, and he was about to switch his smile back on and say as much. However, when his daughter was out of earshot, it was clear she had something else on her mind. “You should also keep in mind that kids this age start going through their growth spurts and many of these things might not fit her next school year.”

  Ethan paused midstep. It was the first time he’d realized that this fatherhood deal wasn’t just a one and done kind of deal. Obviously, he knew that it was a long-term responsibility, but he’d never really thought of it as more than a series of tasks. Like spec ops missions, you finish one assignment and move on to the next—a new adventure always around the corner. He hadn’t quite been anticipating a repeating cycle. Like shopping. Thinking of the bald guy from earlier today made him scratch at his own head. How did other dads get through this over and over again?

  Using his thumb to push against the throbbing in his temple, Ethan muttered, “I could really use something stronger than a pretzel.”

  Chapter Five

  “What about shoes?” Trina asked around a mouthful of cinnamon-and-sugar-covered soft pretzel. Monica hadn’t thought it was possible for Ethan’s eyes to get any rounder today and she had to choke back a giggle at his terrified expression.

  “Yeah, we should probably check out the sneaker place next.” Monica pushed up her sleeves. “I’m ready to do more damage there as soon as your father is.”

  Yet, when Ethan remained in an apparent state of shock, Monica fluttered her lashes at him and said, “Just blink twice for yes.”

  “I thought we were done.” He held up his plastic cup of frozen lemonade. “See, this was my reward for not going totally insane in the last store.”

  “That’s okay,” Trina murmured, tucking in her chin. “These shoes will work.”

  Monica followed the child’s gaze to the small hole in the canvas o
ver the big toe. She opened her mouth to chastise Ethan for his complete disregard in handling his daughter’s disappointment.

  But the man must’ve recognized the defeated expression on the girl’s face because he quickly spoke up. “No, you need something more sturdy. More suited for the weather here in the mountains. And we should also get you a pair of shoes to go with that romper dress thing you picked out.”

  Trina’s eyes lifted, flickering with hope, and Monica didn’t have the heart to correct Ethan and tell him that it was really Monica who’d picked out the dress. The girl was happy with jeans and solid-colored T-shirts and sweaters. Yet, Gran always insisted that every female needed a fancier outfit for those special occasions. Not that Monica remembered the last time she’d dressed up in Sugar Falls.

  The first hour of shopping had her questioning her own sanity for agreeing to run interference between Ethan and his long-lost daughter. By the time they shoved the last shoe box and bags of school supplies into the crew cab of the truck later that afternoon, though, her nerves were a little less frayed as she basked in the afterglow of a job well done.

  It would’ve felt like a regular family outing if the three of them had any trust or confidence in the others. Unfortunately, Monica still didn’t trust Ethan not to shirk his responsibilities, and Ethan didn’t trust Trina not to run off, and Trina didn’t quite trust anyone. Yet. But she was coming around.

  As Ethan pulled onto the two-lane highway, Trina had retreated into her headphones with her music and Monica watched the sun dip lower behind the snow-covered mountains.

  “So that went better than I expected,” he said quietly, mirroring her own thoughts.

  “Yeah, it was touch and go there for a while.” Monica smiled at him, but when he returned it with a wicked grin of his own, the corner of her lip trembled. Really, the man’s mouth should come with its own warning. Caution: smirking leads to increased knee weakening.

  “I really started sweating when we walked by that booth that did the ear piercing. Thankfully, you came through and steered her toward the bookstore.”

  “Girls like me and Trina would rather have a new book than a pair of earrings any day.”

  “Yeah, you guys remind me of each other in a lot of ways.”

  Oh geez, did he just compare her to his eleven-year-old daughter? Or was that Monica who’d drawn the comparison? In the past few months, she’d grown accustomed to Ethan always flirting with her. Yet, ever since Trina arrived, it was like something had completely changed in his whole demeanor. Sure, he still stared at Monica when he thought she wasn’t looking, but it was no longer in that playful, out-to-have-a-good-time way he used to look at her. He might throw out a bold wink here and there, but it now seemed like those were only for show, to pretend as if his whole life hadn’t suddenly changed and grown more complicated.

  While it made sense that he was completely out of his element with this unexpected role of fatherhood, and she should want him to be taking his responsibilities seriously, there was a teeny tiny hole right below Monica’s chest that missed his more happy-go-lucky personality.

  And she could hardly believe it.

  “Like how?” Monica finally asked.

  “Huh?” he replied, apparently lost in his own thoughts. Before Trina arrived, she never would’ve pinned Ethan as the quiet and contemplative type.

  “How do we remind you of each other?” she clarified.

  “Well, you guys are both kind of quiet and shy, but incredibly smart. Like I know there’s got to be so much going on in your brain, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out what you’re thinking. Still, I find myself wanting to know everything about you.” He lifted up his sunglasses as he cast a glance across the cab of the truck and Monica squirmed in the passenger seat. “I want to know what makes you happy, what makes you sad, what makes you tick.”

  “It’s going to take time for you to get to know Trina like that,” Monica said as she tugged on the shoulder strap of her seat belt, trying to give her neck a little relief from this sudden tightness. What she hadn’t added was that Ethan had no hope of ever getting to know Monica like that. Sure, there might be times when she would lower her defenses, but she would never let her guard down with him. Or with any man ever again.

  “She warmed up for a while there at the mall.” Ethan glanced at his rearview mirror and then lowered his voice, forcing Monica to lean toward the center console to hear him better. “But then when we went to the office supply store, she got super withdrawn and wouldn’t even make eye contact.”

  “I’m surprised you noticed that.”

  “Give me a little credit, Mon,” Ethan said, his use of the shortened version of her name causing a tingling sensation in her rib cage. Great. Going on a family shopping trip with him had already created a false sense of intimacy between them. “Just because I’m uncomfortable dealing with female moods doesn’t mean that I don’t pay attention to them. Especially when it concerns someone I care about.”

  Monica tried not to look toward the backseat. It would’ve been a sure sign to Trina that they were talking about her. “My guess is that shopping for clothes and shoes is fun, but buying paper and pencils is a reminder that she’s going to have to go to school soon. I wonder why that makes her so apprehensive.”

  “Probably because it’s school.” Ethan shrugged. “No kids I knew ever enjoyed going.”

  “I think it might be something more than that. Maybe she struggled with bullies at her old school or has a learning disability that makes the work tough for her.”

  “But you said her reading level was well above average.”

  “She could still struggle in other areas academically or even socially. Or maybe she had behavioral issues and used to get in trouble a lot?”

  “If that’s the case, the apple really wouldn’t be falling far from the tree.” His grin was finally back and Monica’s heart sped up as he turned into the driveway of her grandmother’s old house.

  “Oh look,” Trina said, pointing to the older woman standing near the snow-covered woodpile wearing a pair of patent leather tap shoes and a faded bathrobe that only came to her knobby knees. “I didn’t know you guys had a kitten.”

  “Neither did I,” Monica grumbled as she hopped out of the passenger side before Ethan could put the truck in Park.

  Despite the fact that Monica had already been outside at the end of her driveway when they’d picked her up this morning, Ethan had still planned on walking her to her front door this evening. But when he saw Mrs. Alvarez standing outside in the snow with a kitten in her arms, he realized they might be here for longer than he’d anticipated.

  He and Kane had done most of the repair work on the house when Mrs. Alvarez caught a frozen pizza on fire a few months ago and, after spending several days with the older woman, he knew two things. One, she didn’t have a cat. Two, she only wore those fifty-year-old dance shoes when she was having one of her “episodes.”

  But it was Trina who got to the older woman first. “Can I hold your kitten?”

  “Sure,” Mrs. Alvarez replied as she handed over a ball of gray fur to his daughter. “But she’s still a little sore from getting her shots today so be careful.”

  “Gran, did you find that cat in the woodpile?”

  “What woodpile?” she asked her granddaughter. Monica pointed to the split logs stacked against the entire side of the smaller Victorian home. “Oh, that’s right. The ol’ furnace kept growling and hissing so much, it gave poor kitty a bad case of gas. So we came out here to get some wood for a fire.”

  Monica took off her glasses before pinching the bridge of her nose. Ethan cleared his throat, wanting to help ease some of her frustration. “Hey, Mrs. Alvarez, remember you promised Chief Jones that you wouldn’t use the fireplace or the oven unless Monica was home.”

  “But she is home.” Mrs. Alvarez gave him a dismissive wave as
though her granddaughter had been there all along and hadn’t just arrived with Ethan. “Wait until you try her enchiladas, Mr. Renault. It’s a family recipe and she makes them just like my own mami did. Mija, is dinner ready yet?”

  “Not yet, Gran,” Monica said, her exhale louder than the wind whistling through the pine needles on the ancient evergreen tree near the driveway. She wrapped an arm around her grandmother’s hunched shoulders. “Come on, let’s go inside and get warmed up.”

  Trina was cooing at the kitten and, for the millionth time today, all Ethan could do was stand there frozen, unsure of what to do. If this was a hostage extraction or the detonation of an IED, he’d be much more comfortable. Being a rescuer came as easily to him as breathing. Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure who needed to be rescued first—Monica or her poor, confused Gran. In his mind, he heard his BUD/S instructor’s voice telling him, Adapt and overcome.

  When his gaze fell on the wood he asked his daughter, who seemed oblivious to anything but the purring fuzz ball curled up in her hands, “Do you mind if we stay for a few minutes so I can get a fire started for them?”

  “Sure. Can we have some enchiladas, too?”

  Ethan grabbed a couple of logs. “I don’t think there’s actually any enchiladas. Mrs. Alvarez gets confused easily and must’ve forgotten that Monica was with us all day.”

  “Too bad. I’m getting kind of bored going out to eat all the time.” Trina sniffed before she followed behind the two women who’d just gone into the house.

  Okay, so maybe she wasn’t the only one who was tired of takeout. Ethan made a mental note to learn how to make a home-cooked meal. If he could construct an improvised explosive device in the middle of an overgrown jungle or a barren desert, surely he could manage something basic. There had to be cookbooks at the library. And if not, he could always find a YouTube video to show him how.

  As he knelt in front of the fireplace, he heard the two women talking in the kitchen. Their voices weren’t raised, so at least nobody was yelling or seemed to be otherwise flustered. Once he finished lighting the fire, he stood up to tell them that he and Trina were going to take off.