The SEAL's Secret Daughter

by Christy Jeffries

  Passing the fridge, he saw the whiteboard affixed to the front of it. Someone had used a red dry erase marker to write, “Monica is in Boise today and will be home at 6:00 p.m. Mr. Simon is next door if you need him.”

  “Excuse me,” Monica said, brushing past him and opening the freezer to pull out a foil-covered dish. Ethan gulped, partly from her nearness and partly from his hope that she might actually be making enchiladas. Would it be horribly rude of him to swing an invite for dinner when she so clearly had her hands full dealing with her grandmother’s dementia?

  “So, Gran, where did you find the cat?” Monica asked as she put the frozen dish into the oven.

  “I picked her up at the animal shelter this morning.” Gran was sitting at the kitchen table, a blanket across her lap and the toes of her dance shoes tapping against the hardwood floor Ethan had just resanded a few months ago.

  “The shelter on the way to Boise?” Monica couldn’t hide the panic that flashed across her face. “Who took you there?”

  From what Ethan understood, Mrs. Alvarez had lived in this house for the past forty years and had been a member of every organization and club in town. She must have friends and neighbors who were willing to take her places and help out when Monica wasn’t with her.

  “I drove myself.” She pulled a single key out of her robe pocket and set it down on the table next to the mug of steaming water in front of her. “I found the spare in your bedroom.”

  “You took my car?” Monica dropped the box of chamomile tea she’d just pulled down from the cabinet. “Gran, you don’t have a license anymore. You’re lucky you didn’t crash into someone else—oh my gosh, you didn’t get in an accident did you?”

  “Mija, I’ve been driving since I was thirteen years old and never had an accident.”

  Monica squeezed her eyes shut and took several deep breaths before she responded.

  “You caused that big pileup on the highway two years ago, remember? That’s why Dr. Wu took your license away.” Her voice was strained, but way more reasonable than Ethan’s would have been under the same circumstances.

  Instead of nodding in understanding, Mrs. Alvarez rolled her eyes. “I don’t even know a Dr. Wu. Your grandfather and I have always seen Dr. Jorgensen.”

  Ethan immediately went to retrieve the forgotten box at Monica’s feet and heard her murmuring to herself. “It’s probably pointless to tell her that both my grandfather and Dr. Jorgensen passed away before I was born.”

  He fished a tea bag out and plopped it into Mrs. Alvarez’s mug of hot water. As he returned the box to the cabinet beside Monica, he lowered his own voice. “Why don’t I go outside and check your car for any damage?”

  “You don’t have to. I can handle it.” He recognized when someone was trying to cover up and pretend they were capable of handling something themselves, despite all evidence pointing to the contrary. Hadn’t he done the same thing—said the same thing—all those times before he’d decided to get sober?

  “I know you can handle it and I wasn’t implying otherwise. But we can all use an extra hand from time to time.”

  She tilted her head as she studied him, her left cheek sucked in as his offer hung between them. He could see the struggle behind her proud eyes and knew she was pondering whether or not she should accept his help. Whether she should rely on someone else for a change, especially a guy who had his own battles.

  Ethan experienced an intense need to prove to her that he wasn’t completely useless. “Mon, I can’t even begin to repay you for helping me at the mall today with Trina. This is the least I can do.”

  Monica sighed. “Fair enough. But then we’re even.”

  Ethan grinned at her before snatching the spare key off the table. He didn’t bother pointing out that, with the way Monica and Trina had already bonded over books and shopping, he doubted that today wasn’t going to be the last favor he’d have to ask of her.

  * * *

  Monica took Gran upstairs to change, sitting the tiny woman down on the bed so she could remove the tap shoes first. “Make sure you put them back in their special box, mija.”

  As if Monica hadn’t had to put the patent leather heels away at least four times a week with these forgetful episodes coming more frequently. She studied the shoes in the worn-out shoe box with the faded Capezio logo on the top. Gran had been quite the dancer back in her day and had several VHS movies downstairs where one could catch a glimpse of Lydia Alvarez in the background as part of the ensemble cast. She even had a signed photograph of her with Elvis Presley from that time she’d been an extra in a beach party scene.

  She wished Ethan could see how Gran used to be. She wasn’t always like this, Monica often found herself explaining to random strangers in town who didn’t know that her sweet and intelligent grandmother would never have tap-danced in the middle of Town Square Park wearing just her bathrobe if the woman was still in control of her faculties. Lydia Alvarez had been strong and capable and the life of the party up until a few years ago. But those glimpses of the same woman were decreasing with alarming frequency, and soon Monica herself might forget what the younger Gran was like.

  Monica’s loud sigh didn’t alleviate any of the heaviness in her heart. By the time she returned from the closet, Gran was fast asleep on top of her blankets. Luckily, her grandmother only weighed about a hundred pounds, so while Monica couldn’t lift her, she could maneuver her enough to pull the quilt out from underneath and cover her up. Standing at the doorway, she watched her grandmother sleep.

  “Oh, Gran, what am I going to do with you?”

  The only answer she got was a soft snore. Turning off the light, Monica squared her shoulders before heading back downstairs.

  When she walked into the kitchen, she found Ethan pacing in front of the brand-new oven while Trina sat at the old Formica-covered table, holding a sleeping kitten in her arms. Apparently, it was too much to hope that the man would’ve done what most people do when faced with Gran’s odd behavior—pretend they hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary and then politely find an excuse to leave as quickly as possible.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked as soon as he saw her.

  “Yeah. Gran fell asleep.”

  He shot a look toward Trina, then lowered his voice. “Is it Alzheimer’s?”

  Monica nodded. “She usually just wanders down the street or talks an unsuspecting passerby into a ride to town, but this is the first time she’s ever taken off in my car.”

  “Speaking of which, there were a few little scratches and dings but it was tough for me to tell if any of it was recent.” Ethan’s words were a diplomatic way of saying that her Toyota Camry was nearly fifteen years old and had definitely seen better days. However, it was all she could afford when every extra dime she made went into a savings account for Gran’s future medical expenses. “You might want to go out to the driveway and check to see if you recognize anything new.”

  The timer on the stove went off right then, making her already frazzled nerve endings pulse with each shriek of the buzzer. The last thing Monica wanted right that second was company. After all, it was much easier to pretend that nothing was wrong with her closest living relative when she didn’t have an audience. But Gran took great pride in feeding any and everyone who crossed her doorstep and would be disappointed if Monica didn’t offer their guests something to eat.

  “Would you guys like some enchiladas? There’s more than en—”

  “Yes, please,” Trina said rather loudly, not even letting Monica finish. She knew Ethan ate most of his meals out, so the girl’s enthusiasm was probably only the result of the chance to have a home-cooked dinner.

  “I don’t want to impose...” Ethan’s words faded as she lifted the foil off the pan and the air filled with the scent of the rich, spicy sauce.

  Monica looked over her shoulder to see him staring hungrily at the
cheese-covered tortillas. His front teeth scraped against his lower lip and her pulse sped up. What would it feel like to have him look at her like that? What would those teeth feel like if they lightly scraped the sensitive skin right below her...

  She shivered wistfully before giving her head a quick shake. Nope. There was no point in even thinking about something so reckless. With his daughter here, Monica had been doubling her efforts to distance herself from the man. Clearly she would need to work harder at it.

  Shoving the pot holders at him, she instructed, “Here, put this on the table and I’ll get the plates and silverware.”

  “Trina, why don’t you set the kitten down while we eat?” Ethan told his daughter. The girl gently put the sleeping kitty on the red vinyl chair next to her, then stood up to wash her hands at the sink.

  Serving her guests gave Monica a task to focus on, even if she did so a little distractedly. She tried to pretend she was at her waitressing job and not in her own kitchen. But she never had to sit at the table with the customers while they ate, so the conversation soon stalled after a few bites.

  Well, the kitten’s conversation didn’t stall. Apparently, as soon as it was separated from the warmth of Trina’s arms, the tiny thing woke up—and didn’t like being away from her holder one little bit. She meowed louder and louder until Trina lifted it off the seat and tucked the animal into the wide front pocket of her new hooded sweatshirt.

  “So, what are you going to do about your grandmother?” Ethan finally asked, echoing the same question Monica had asked herself upstairs. “I mean, do you have any plans for what happens down the road?”

  “I know I’ll have to do something eventually...” she started, then glanced at Trina unsure of how much she should say in front of the child. The bottom line was that Gran’s condition would only get worse.

  “I think they have special homes,” Ethan offered. “A few weeks ago we did some work on this old fisherman’s cabin to get it ready to sell. His kids were moving him to a place called a memory care center.”

  “I know. I’ve looked into it. But it’s not what we do in my family. I have a cousin in El Paso and when he put my aunt Bettina in a place, nobody else in the family would invite him to a backyard cookout, let alone a wedding. Besides, Gran took me and my mom in after my dad left us. When my mom passed away, Gran raised me. She gave up her golden years to care for me. The least I can do is return the favor.”

  “Maybe you can hire a nurse or something to be with her when you’re at work?” Ethan’s suggestion was probably well-intentioned, but it made the skin on the back of her neck prickle. Did he seriously think she hadn’t already researched all the options? Anytime she had a down moment at the library, all she did was research.

  “I’ve also looked into that. Even with Gran’s social security and both of my jobs, I could only afford about two hours a day.”

  A meow sounded from Trina’s midsection, drawing Monica’s attention back to the current crisis at hand. She took her glasses off and set them on the table so she could relieve some of the tension building in her temples, as well as prevent her from clearly seeing the adorable kitten’s face when she said, “I’m going to have to call the animal shelter tomorrow and find out what their return policy is.”

  Trina gasped, looking at Monica as if she’d suggested tying the kitten into a burlap bag and throwing it out into the middle of Lake Rush. Monica tried not to shrink any lower in her chair.

  “Honey, it’s not that I don’t want the kitten. I’d love to have a pet. But Gran is always misplacing things and then can’t remember where she left them. When I’m at work all day, I’ll often come home to find her snow boots in the fridge, and the sandwich I’d made for her lunch on the floor in the mudroom. As much as she’d love to, my grandmother simply can’t take care of a young, helpless kitten.” Monica dragged in another deep breath. “I can’t believe the people at the shelter actually let her adopt it in the first place.”

  “Your gran looks healthy to me.” Trina tilted her head. “Is something wrong with her?”

  “Physically, she’s totally fine. The only medication she takes is for her high blood pressure. Other than that, she’s in great shape physically. But her brain is starting to shut down and she gets confused easily and is always forgetting things, like turning off the stove before something catches fire or not watching for cars when she walks into town...in the middle of the night. I worry that she could be a danger to herself.”

  “My gran was the opposite,” Trina said, setting down her fork after finishing the entire plate of enchiladas. “Her brain remembered everything and she was always supersmart. But she had bad knees and couldn’t walk and then she got real sick and went to the hospital. I never saw her after that.”

  “That must have been very sad for you,” Ethan said to the girl, who was using her finger to give the kitten a tiny nibble of leftover cheese. “I only met your gran two or three times when I picked up your mom for dates, but she would be sitting on her front porch working on a crossword with a plate of homemade treats beside her. She used to make the best brownies I’ve ever had.”

  When it came to his daughter, Ethan usually was at a loss for words and Monica hadn’t expected him to be the one to offer comfort. Yet, sharing a happy memory of Trina’s grandmother had been the perfect response. Something warm spread through Monica’s chest as she studied the pair across the table.

  “Chantal said Gran died because she ate too many sweets and never exercised.” The fact that Trina referred to her own mother by first name chipped away at Monica’s prior sympathy for the woman who’d given birth to Ethan’s child. “Chantal was always worried about getting fat like Gran. That’s why she took a special medicine to keep herself skinny all the time.”

  Monica’s own father hadn’t been a part of her life because he used to prefer taking a special medicine, too. The way Ethan’s face had gone pale suggested that Chantal’s choice of pharmaceuticals was of the same variety and was most likely illegal. While Fidel Alvarez only showed up sporadically for the occasional childhood events, at least Monica had a few good memories of her dad being loving toward her. Of him bringing her a new book and a candy ring pop before he would lift her up in his strong arms and tease that she was growing too big too quickly.

  Until the last time Monica saw him, when he didn’t take her in his arms at all.

  Ethan cleared his throat and Monica didn’t blame him for wanting to change the subject. “I bet that if you call the shelter and explain what happened, they could find a new home for the kitten.”

  “I can take care of Tootie.”

  Ethan’s head whipped to the side to stare at his daughter. “Who?”

  “Tootie.” Trina nodded toward the kitten that was now licking red sauce off her finger. “I’ve been calling her that because she seems to have the toots.”

  Monica wrinkled her nose. “Maybe we shouldn’t feed her any more enchiladas.”

  “Um...but you’ll be at school and I’m at work,” Ethan replied, not seemingly bothered by the animal’s gas issues. His eyes darted back and forth between Monica and his daughter as if he was hoping someone would intervene and be the voice of reason. “Remember Monica said the kitten shouldn’t be alone during the day?”

  Instead of throwing him a life rope, Monica seized on the opportunity to not have to call the shelter and look like a big, evil animal hater.

  “I didn’t say the kitten couldn’t be alone. I said I couldn’t leave Gran alone with her.” Please don’t ask me for more details than that, Monica thought. She would hate to have Trina hear the story about how Gran found two baby skunks last spring and thought the neighbor’s untrained German shepherd wouldn’t bark so much if it had some new playmates. Fortunately, Mr. Simon had heard the initial growling and ran outside right away. Unfortunately, neither he nor Rambo were safe from the spray when the mama skunk swooped in to save
her babies. When Gran later realized what she’d nearly done, she’d been inconsolable for days. “Cats are actually very independent and can pretty much take care of themselves.”

  Ethan narrowed his eyes at Monica but she quickly stood up and began occupying herself with clearing the table and taking the empty casserole pan to the sink.

  “Please, can we keep Tootie?”

  Even from all the way across the kitchen, Monica heard the air whoosh out of Ethan’s mouth. As far as she could tell, it was the first time the child had actually asked him directly for something, rather than wait for him to offer it. Trina’s request meant that she was becoming more comfortable with him.

  Perhaps it was wrong to use Ethan’s vulnerability with this new role of fatherhood against him, but Monica really didn’t want to take the poor kitten back to the shelter. After all, it was her fault that she’d left her car key where Gran could find it. That made her equally responsible for finding Tootie a new home.

  “Having a pet does teach children about responsibility.” Monica looked at Ethan over the lenses of her glasses and attempted a big smile that felt completely unnatural. “It can also make them feel more secure in a new place.”

  “When you two tag team me like that, I don’t stand a chance,” Ethan groaned. “Fine, Tootie can stay at our house.”

  He stood up to carry his plate to the sink and Trina’s whoops kept her from hearing her father when he lowered his voice, his breath caressing Monica’s ear as he whispered, “But man, you’re gonna owe me for this one.”

  Monica shivered, wondering if she’d just made a deal with the devil.

  Chapter Six

  “So I go to school tomorrow and then what?” Trina asked as she sat on her bed with Tootie on Sunday evening, both of them watching Ethan fix a broken drawer on her dresser so that she could finish organizing and putting away all her new clothes.