The SEAL's Secret Daughter

by Christy Jeffries

  Despite being in the military for nearly ten years and accustomed to following so many rules and regulations, Ethan preferred to fly by the seat of his pants. His daughter, on the other hand, was proving to be more schedule oriented. So far today, he’d had to lay out their plans for breakfast (grabbing doughnuts at the bakery), their plans for church (he didn’t attend, but apparently her grandmother had been a stickler for going every Sunday morning) and their plans for purchasing cat supplies (the pet store visit an hour ago was only slightly less overwhelming than their excursion to the mall yesterday).

  But at least she was opening up and talking with him a little more.

  “I’ll be standing outside of the school when the bell rings at three o’clock. Maybe we can go get an ice cream at Noodie’s afterward.”

  Seeing all the bright colored tops and leggings out of their bags really made the rest of the spare bedroom look pretty nondescript and bare. Maybe he should’ve let her pick out a new bedspread or something to spruce things up.

  “And then what?”

  “Um, you tell me about your day, I guess?” Should he already be enrolling her in sports or piano lessons or whatever it was that kids did after school?

  “Okay. What happens after that?”

  “Then we grab some dinner and I usually go to a meeting on Monday nights.”

  “What kind of meeting?” Trina asked. She was holding one of her new shoelaces up, watching Tootie bat a paw at it.

  As much as he didn’t want to say anything that might make him sound bad, part of his recovery was honesty. “I used to drink too much.”

  “You mean...” Suddenly, his daughter’s animated expression grew hesitant. Perhaps even nervous.

  “I’m talking about alcohol. Do you know what I mean?”

  Trina bit her lip as she lowered the shoelace and looked down, refusing to meet his gaze as she slowly nodded.

  Ethan dropped to his knees in front of her, needing her to see how serious he was. “Listen, I don’t drink alcohol anymore. But it’s important for me to go to meetings and talk with other people who have the same issue so we can support each other. Help each other stay healthy. Does that make sense?”

  Trina lifted her chin just enough so she could study him out of the eye that wasn’t covered behind her loose hair. “The judge told Chantal that she needed to go to meetings like that. But she had to live at rehab houses for her meetings and told Gran it was too hard to stay in places like that. Do you have to move into rehab, too?”

  “No.” Ethan flinched at being lumped in the same category as his former prom date, who he’d suspected of being strung out on something the day she’d left Trina on his doorstep. It’d been confirmed when the girl had mentioned Chantal using a “special medicine” to keep from gaining weight. “My meetings are voluntary—that means nobody forces me to go—and they only last an hour. I go once or twice a week.”

  Sometimes more often if he thought he needed it. Or on days when he was especially antsy or restless or in need of an outlet.

  “Do I go to the meeting with you?” Trina toyed with the end of the shoelace, making Tootie think that the batting game was starting back up.

  “Um, I’ve never seen kids there. I can ask, though. If it is something you really want to do, maybe we can get permission for you to come with me once in a while. Or we can just stay home tomorrow night. It’s okay if I miss once in a while.”

  “No. Meetings are important,” Trina said. Her voice was usually serious, but this time, it held a note of urgency, as well. “Whenever my... Chantal forgot to go to hers, we wouldn’t see her for months.”

  The poor girl had already lost everything she’d loved. He couldn’t very well allow her to worry about him falling off the wagon, too. She deserved having some stability in her life. “If it’s important to you, Trina, I won’t miss any meetings. We can figure everything out. You don’t know this about me yet, but I’m really good at making things work.”

  “Maybe I can go to the library tomorrow night and hang out with Monica?”

  “I think the library closes at six.” Ethan stood up to pull his phone out of his pocket to check the hours online.

  “Then maybe I could go to her house for dinner? She has good food there and I’ll take Tootie so her grandmother can play with her and get some cuddles.”

  He had to admit it wasn’t a bad idea. But could Ethan really impose upon the Alvarez family again?

  Last night, when he’d told Monica that she would owe him, he hadn’t really meant it. He just wanted to let her know that he knew what she was doing by giving the kitten to Trina, and that he might expect some appreciation from her in return. Actually, he’d prefer some cuddles of his own, but he wasn’t in any sort of position to be looking for a date right now. Which was really too bad, because he’d actually enjoyed being with Monica yesterday. Don’t get him wrong, he still hated the shopping. But she was so calm through it all, so understanding of what his daughter needed—of what he needed—that for the first time in months, Ethan didn’t have to pretend he knew what he was doing. Working with Monica was the closest he’d gotten to being a member of a team since he’d left the Navy. And she was definitely the most attractive teammate he’d ever had, with her sweet dimples and her silky brown curls and her curvy...

  Ugh. Ethan had been so caught up in thoughts of Monica, his phone screen had gone dark and he had to reenter his pass code, only to realize that he’d forgotten what he’d been looking up in the first place. He really needed to put that attraction on hold while he figured out what was best for Trina.

  There were plenty of other people in town that he would trust to babysit Trina, but his daughter didn’t know any of them. She was probably too young to stay home alone. As if reading his thoughts, she suggested, “I could just stay here by myself. After my grandma died, I lived in worse neighborhoods with Chantal and she would leave me by myself all the time.”

  That was it. Ethan gripped his phone tighter, determined to be the exact opposite type of parent as Chantal. They’d exchanged numbers at the mall in case anyone got lost so he already had Monica’s contact info handy to type out a text. I have a really huge favor and you can say no. But I have a meeting tomorrow and can’t take Trina. Is there any way she can come to your place?

  He used the camera feature to snap a quick image of his daughter playing with the kitten, partly for the adorable factor (as in, How could anyone say no to this?) and partly to remind the woman that he’d already prepaid the favor by taking in this animal with gastrointestinal issues.

  Speaking of Tootie’s gas, Ethan should probably grab a can of air freshener at the market and send a picture of that to Monica, as well. Just so she could see the extent of his sacrifice for dealing with this unexpected pet.

  It took another ten minutes—and several muffled curse words—for Ethan to get the dresser drawer back on the track. When he did, he was rewarded with a small grin from Trina, who was eager to finish putting away her new clothes.

  Walking out of the room with his tool bag, he was also rewarded with a text from Monica, whose straightforward “Sure” and smile emoji might have been intended as a polite response.

  But that simple response also sent a tiny spark of adrenaline through him.

  * * *

  “Is this the sweet Trina I’ve been hearing all about?” Freckles boomed out when Ethan and his daughter came into the Cowgirl Up Café early Monday morning.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Ethan replied, and Monica witnessed his chest puff out with a bit more pride than it had the last time he’d walked through the restaurant’s saloon-style doors. “Freckles, this is my daughter, Trina. Trina, allow me to introduce you to the owner of this fine establishment and the person who knows everything about what’s going on in town.”

  “Fine establishment” might be a stretch, Monica thought, as she looked around at the bright t
urquoise walls covered with neon painted lassos, bedazzled horseshoes and enough cowgirl paraphernalia to host a rodeo-themed party inside every sorority house at Boise State. But her part-time boss and the popular café were definitely the center for gossip in Sugar Falls.

  In fact, Freckles had been good friends with Gran for years and was the first one to point out to Monica that her grandmother might be suffering from something more than absentmindedness. A couple of years ago, it had been easy for Monica to miss the signs herself because she lived with the older woman and the changes were so gradual, it was easy to grow immune to the forgetfulness and write off the initial episodes as occasional quirkiness.

  Freckles was also the one who suggested that Monica might need to start saving for Gran’s health care down the road, and offered up a few extra shifts at her restaurant, despite the fact that Monica wasn’t very outgoing and pretty much sucked at being a waitress at first.

  “Nice to finally meet you, Trina,” Freckles said around the wad of chewing gum in her mouth. “Your dad is one of my best customers, so I knew he couldn’t keep you away from my famous cinnamon rolls for too long. Have a seat and I’ll bring a couple out.”

  Trina gave a shy nod, but instead of keeping her eyes downcast she turned to look around the room, her gaze landing on Monica. “Oh! Hi.”

  “Hey, guys,” Monica said, walking to their table with a pot of coffee. “Are you all ready for the first day of school?”

  “Not really,” Trina replied, her shoulders slumping under the new green jacket. “Are you sure I can’t just hang out at the library and read? That’s pretty much the same thing as going to school.”

  “Sorry, kiddo,” Monica said with a sympathetic smile. “But you can come to the library after school if you want and tell me all about your day.”

  The girl sighed. “I can tell you about it right now. It’s gonna be horrible and I’m gonna hate it.”

  “I hated being stuck in a classroom when I was your age, too,” Freckles said, returning to the table with two fresh cinnamon rolls slathered in cream cheese frosting. “But I sure loved recess. All the boys would chase us around the playground and, sometimes, I’d even let the cute ones catch me.”

  Monica rolled her eyes and took her order pad out of her apron pocket. “So what can I get you for your big first day of school feast?”

  “Well, we’ve been stocking up on cereal and Pop-Tarts at the market lately,” Ethan said, explaining why they hadn’t been in for breakfast since the day Trina arrived. “So preferably something hot. Trina, do you want a few minutes to look over the menu?”

  “I don’t really feel like eating.” The girl scooted out of the booth. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

  “Must be a nervous stomach,” Freckles said when Trina was out of earshot. “I got like that after I met my fourth husband. The man would barely look at me and my tummy would get to churning and I’d have to make a beeline for the nearest ladies’ room.”

  Ethan’s brow shot up to his hairline at Freckles’s revelation of information nobody needed to hear. But he was quick to recover when he leaned forward, peering up at Monica. “Uh...the other reason I brought her in for breakfast this morning was because I was hoping you could give her some sort of pep talk?”

  “Me? I’m not quite sure what I could say to make her any less nervous. I hated school, too.”

  “Really?” Ethan asked, his gaze traveling down the front of her and back up again. “But you’re so smart. I assumed you were one of those teacher’s pet types who would get straight As and be the president of the honor society and the French club and everything.”

  When he looked at her like that, Monica’s own tummy began to flutter. “Well the straight As part is accurate, but joining any sort of society, even an academic one, would mean that I’d have to be social. And socializing isn’t exactly my thing. Obviously, kids need school, but deep down I don’t blame Trina for just wanting to hang out at the library and read.”

  Trina voluntarily returned from the restroom after only a couple of minutes—which was a vast improvement from the last time she’d been in the café and had gone there to hide—and Monica took their orders. There weren’t many people in the restaurant this morning and, normally, Freckles would’ve been leaning against their table, chatting up a newcomer like Trina. But the owner was conspicuously busy visiting with Scooter and Jonesy, who were practically permanent fixtures in the restaurant. What was odder was the fact that Freckles kept her normally loud and joyful voice hushed and would cast occasional glances toward Ethan and Trina whenever they weren’t looking.

  Freckles didn’t leave the old cowboys’ booth until Ethan was paying his check, which was right about when Monica saw the angle of the woman’s bright magenta-tinted grin and realized she was up to something.

  “You know, sugar, it’s such a slow morning,” Freckles said to Monica as though an idea had just occurred to her and hadn’t been percolating in her over-teased and heavily hair-sprayed head this whole time. Putting an orange-spandex-covered hip on the edge of the counter near the cash register, her boss continued. “Plus, you’re already familiar with all the teachers and half of the kids over at that school. Why don’t you take off early and go with Ethan and Trina, to ease her into her first day?”

  His daughter’s face lit up and it suddenly occurred to Monica that she was becoming a little too ingrained in the father-daughter-bonding experience. And Freckles was becoming a little too ingrained in the matchmaking-her-employees experience.

  Monica didn’t want to overshadow Ethan’s role or in any way interfere with them getting to know each other better. “I doubt I’d be all that helpful. Besides, isn’t the first day of school one of those big milestones that should be just the two of you?”

  “Just the two of us and the other couple of hundred parents and kids at drop-off,” Ethan murmured before turning to Trina and leaning down. “What would make you feel the most comfortable?”

  “I’d like Monica to come with us.” Trina’s voice was barely over a whisper, as all the other customers around them had gotten quieter so they could overhear the sidebar conversation. “And then after school, you and me can still get ice cream at Noodie’s for our milestone, whatever that is.”

  “Sounds like a plan to me,” Ethan replied, then rose back to his full height. “As long as Monica is okay with it.”

  “Please?” the girl asked, the earnestness in her clear blue eyes making Monica’s rib cage squeeze against her heart. She didn’t know who looked more hopeful—Trina or Ethan.

  “I’d really owe you.” Ethan’s pleading smile made her knees wobble. “Again.”

  That’s right. She was already ahead of him in the favors department. It took every ounce of restraint not to think about Ethan’s text message last night. She’d had to turn off her phone to keep from asking where he needed to go that he couldn’t take a child. Since it would be after dark, she doubted it was to a work site, which only left one other explanation. Ethan had a date. With another woman.

  Which was why she needed to make it clear that she would only do favors that benefitted Trina—not Ethan. A few minutes later, when he held open the truck door for her, she told him as much.

  “I’m only doing this because Trina could use the moral support.” Monica shot a glance into the backseat before fixing Ethan with her most serious look. “Next time, when it comes to making your life easier, you’re on your own.”

  * * *

  Ethan offered his hand to Trina as they walked across the parking lot of the elementary school, but his daughter didn’t take it. Instead, he was forced to jam his fists into his coat pockets as if he hadn’t just been completely rejected by an eleven-year-old.

  Yeah, she was probably too old for holding hands. She did, however, stay pretty glued to his side so he should be thankful that the girl didn’t find him totally repulsive.

&nbs
p; Monica waved to the crossing guard and several other parents who stood on the front steps of Sugar Falls Elementary School watching them approach. Trina scooted even closer to him to the point that half of her thin body was hidden behind him. Ethan’s instinct was to shield her from danger, but Carmen Gregson approached wearing her full police uniform and towing two identical nine-year-old boys behind her. Ethan was eager to ask the woman if she’d been in touch with Trina’s caseworker back in Texas. But with so many eyes on them, he should probably wait until after school drop-off.

  “Hey, Miss Alvarez,” one of the Gregson twins (he could never remember which one was Aiden and which one was Caden) ran up to Monica after twisting out of his mom’s hand. “Did you get any more of those pirate detective books in yet?”

  “I’m expecting a shipment today. Maybe you can come by the library later this afternoon with my friend Trina. She’s new to the school.”

  “Are you Trina?” the other twin asked.

  His daughter moved even farther behind him, her beanie-covered head peeking out from around his bicep. So she was nervous, but at least she was curious.

  Ethan loosely wrapped his arm around her shoulder, but allowed her to stay pressed close to his hip. “This is my daughter, Trina Renault. Trina, these two rascals are Aiden and Caden Gregson and they’re in...uh, third grade?”

  “Fourth,” the pair corrected him in unison, as if Ethan should have any idea of which grades went with which age group.

  “I’m in fifth,” Trina’s voice was faint, but at least she was talking and not running straight for the girls’ room.

  “That’s Mr. Yasikochi’s class,” Caden, or possibly Aiden, replied. Ethan really should know how to tell his best friend’s kids apart by now. “He’s the coolest teacher here. During our last assembly, he challenged the principal and the rest of the teachers to a spelling bee and now all the students get to pick which words they gotta spell. The winner’s class gets a pudding cup party.”