The Marine's Baby

by Deb Kastner

  His father had never been the touchy type. Nate could count on one hand the number of times Jason Morningway had embraced him as a child.

  So he was surprised when his father lifted his frail right arm and clasped Nate on the shoulder. Nate could feel the chill of Jason’s hands through his shirt and he shivered unconsciously.

  “Nate,” the old man said again. “My son.”

  “I’m here, Pop,” Nate said. “I’m here.”

  Though he knew it wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t be here when his father collapsed, that he had been a continent away fighting for his country, he still felt guilty for his absence.

  “A marine,” Pop said, as if somehow reading Nate’s thoughts.

  Where Nate had expected anger, he heard pride, and his mind clouded with unexpected sensations.

  “Yes, sir. Ten years, now.”

  The old man wet his dry, split lips with the tip of his tongue and cracked a wavering half smile. “Your mother would have been proud.”

  Nate’s eyes stung with unshed tears. He hadn’t cried since he was a small boy, and he wasn’t about to do so now, but the pressure behind his eyelids didn’t go away even after he blinked repeatedly.

  “You’ve come home,” Pop said, as if he’d only now realized the fact. “Why?”

  “Yes, well, I don’t know, really. And I doubt if I’ll be staying.”

  His father’s face fell, and Nate scrambled to bring the tenuous smile back to Pop’s lips. Two minutes with his father and he’d already blown it.

  “I have a baby,” Nate blurted.

  At this awkward pronouncement, Pop’s gaze narrowed into an expression Nate was more familiar with. This was the father Nate had expected. Perhaps things hadn’t changed as much as they had first appeared.

  “You got married?” the old man barked. “Vince never said.”

  “No, sir,” Nate answered. He would have continued his explanation, but Pop cut him off.

  “I raised you better than that.”

  So the man still had some fight in him, did he? Somehow, his father’s reaction relieved Nate—Pop the way he had been and not as he was now.

  “Yes, sir. I know you did. The baby is not my biological child. She was my best friend Ezra’s daughter. My battle buddy in Iraq. When he died, I became Gracie’s legal guardian.”

  “Gracie,” his father repeated, testing the name on his lips. “Where is she?”

  “A close friend of mine is watching her in the dayroom.”

  “Well, I want to meet my little granddaughter,” Pop said, fidgeting with the blanket on his lap. Nate could see the old man only had one good arm to work with. His left arm lay virtually useless by his side. “How about you bring her to me?”

  Nate stretched forward to tuck the blanket around his father and felt a shiver rock through the man.

  “Are you cold?” Nate asked solicitously. Central heating kept the lodge at a comfortable seventy degrees, but Pop’s skin felt cold to the touch.

  “I’m always cold,” Pop grumbled. “I can’t seem to warm up, not even under a dozen blankets. That stroke of mine nearly did me in. Still might,” he said with a disgusted grunt.

  Nate wanted to cringe at his father’s fatalistic statement. He’d told himself over and over throughout the years he’d been gone that he didn’t really care about his family, for they never really cared about him.

  But that wasn’t true. This was his father. Nate loved him despite his flaws.

  Nate tucked the flannel blanket more tightly around his father’s frail shoulders.

  “I’ll go get Gracie,” he said, deciding the best thing to do was get Pop’s mind off his ailments. “It’ll just be a moment.”

  Pop grunted again and turned his chair back toward the window. “I’ll be here. Got no place else to go.”

  The defeatist tone to his father’s voice saddened Nate. It was as if the man had just given up. He could understand the feeling, even if he didn’t agree with it. Pop was confined to a small set of rooms and a wheelchair.

  That would take the fight out of most men, Nate thought.

  But not his pop.

  Pop was a scrapper and always had been. He’d started a business with little more than a wish and a prayer, and had built it up for himself with his own two hands. He’d worked hard over the years to provide for his family.

  Only to have it end like this?

  Nate vowed to himself it would not be so.

  Jessica looked up just as Nate entered the dayroom. She tried to read his expression as his gaze met hers, wondering how it had gone with his father, but it was hard to tell.

  His eyes were wide and his lips pinched. He looked lost, Jessica thought, like a little boy who’d wandered away from his parents in a department store and had looked up only to find the faces of strangers swarming in and out around him.

  She was thankful she was the only one there to witness it. Vince had spent a couple of minutes playing with Gracie, and then had excused himself to go back to the office.

  “How did it go?” she asked softly.

  Nate didn’t immediately answer. Instead, with the gold flecks in his eyes shimmering brightly, he reached for Gracie, who flapped her arms and babbled excitedly at his attention.

  “Okay, baby girl,” he murmured, swinging Gracie in the air and then kissing her chubby cheek. “Your grandfather wants to meet you.”

  “Oh!” Jessica exclaimed, releasing the breath she’d been holding. “It went well, then?”

  Nate’s gaze met hers over the top of the baby’s head, and he gave a clipped nod. He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  Impulsively, she stood and moved to Nate’s side, giving him a quick, spontaneous hug.

  “Poor Pop,” Nate said, shaking his head. “I had no idea the stroke had debilitated him to such a colossal extent.”

  “You couldn’t have known.”

  Nate snorted. “Maybe deep down I knew, and I just didn’t want to face reality.”

  “You’re here now,” she gently pointed out, absently stroking his shoulder.

  “Well, I’m too little, too late,” he snapped derisively.

  “Not at all. How can you say that? He was glad to see you, wasn’t he?”

  Nate’s lips twisted as he nodded.

  “And if that wasn’t enough, I’m sure baby Gracie is going to make his day.”

  Nate gazed down at Gracie, and then offered his hand to Jessica. “He seemed anxious to meet her.”

  “Then what are we waiting for?” Jessica asked, pulling him toward the hallway.

  Nate didn’t say anything, but he allowed her to lead him down the hallway and back to his father’s suite of rooms.

  “Pop?” he called, entering the room without knocking on the door this time. “I’ve brought Gracie.”

  Jessica had seen Jason Morningway off and on at the lodge, though he had been too ill in the past few weeks to make the foray out to the dayroom to interact with others. He looked a bit weaker than she remembered, but the joy shining from his gray eyes was unmistakable.

  “My granddaughter,” he announced, wheeling his chair forward. “Thank the Good Lord. I didn’t think I would live to see the day.”

  Nate’s hand clenched tightly over Jessica’s for a moment, and she gave him a reassuring squeeze back before letting go.

  Nate crouched before his father and propped Gracie up on his knee, so the old man could see her and interact with her.

  “Little darling,” Jason crooned, reaching his hand toward Gracie.

  The baby wasn’t shy with strangers; or maybe, Jessica thought, Gracie instinctively knew that Jason Morningway was family. Gracie clasped her little fist over her grandfather’s index finger and babbled happily at him.

  “She’s quite a talker,” Jason said with a gruff laugh. “How old is she?”

  “Six and a half months,” Nate answered with a tentative smile. “And she’s already more than a handful, let me tell you.”

 
“As were you,” his father countered, a faraway look reaching his eyes. “Even before you were born, you were always on the move. I remember your mother saying she thought you were going to be a circus acrobat. And then as a toddler, we couldn’t keep you still for more than a minute. You’d climb on bookshelves, throw your ball through a window. One time you hid in the middle of an apparel rack at a department store and your mother couldn’t find you. You scared the wits out of her that day.”

  Nate flashed Jessica a wide, surprised gaze. Did Jason remember that Gracie was not Nate’s biological child? He spoke as if the fact had slipped his mind.

  Jessica shook her head briefly. There was no sense pressing the issue with Jason, who would probably forget again the moment they left the room. Strokes could play havoc on the mind.

  Besides, Jessica thought, in all the ways that mattered, Nate was Gracie’s father. There was far more than genetics involved here.

  Jason seemed to notice the silent exchange between Nate and Jessica, for his gaze focused on Jessica and the side of his mouth that worked correctly crooked up into a half smile.

  “And who is this lovely creature?”

  Nate rocked back on his heels, pressing Gracie close to his chest. “I’m sorry, Pop. I thought you already knew her. This is my…” he hesitated “…friend. Jessica Sabin.”

  Jessica noticed his hesitation and wondered if he’d been about to say something different, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it.

  “I’m the day care director, Mr. Morningway. I’ve been here at the lodge for about a year now. We’ve met before, at a couple of social events.”

  Jason frowned, the right side of his face crinkling to match the left. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember.”

  “Think nothing of it,” Jessica gently assured him. “There are so many people coming and going in and out of Morningway Lodge at any given time, you would be hard-pressed to remember names and faces. After a while, it all becomes a big blur. I can’t remember names to save my life—except, of course, for the kids I work with.” She chuckled.

  Jason settled back in his wheelchair, looking at ease once more. As Nate stood, he flashed Jessica a grateful smile and reached for her hand.

  “Jess has been a godsend,” he remarked. “She has really helped me out with Gracie. I would have been lost without her. She’s the resident expert where babies are concerned.”

  Jessica shrugged off the compliment, uncomfortable with the way both Nate and his father were beaming at her, as if she were someone special.

  Jason’s gaze dropped to where Nate’s and Jessica’s hands were joined, and he smiled crookedly again. “Such a lovely little family you have there, son.”

  Jason’s innocent comment sent such an intense bolt of shock through Jessica that she quivered as if she’d just been struck by lightning. She immediately snatched her hand away from Nate’s, feeling almost singed by the contact of his fingers.

  She expected the surprise in Nate’s gaze as his eyes met hers, but not the golden glimmer that spoke of something else entirely.

  Feeling branded by a look that surpassed even the touch of his hand, she quickly turned away, only to meet another familiar pair of eyes as she spotted Vince in the doorway behind them.

  Vince was leaning against the doorjamb, his arms crossed in front of him. For the briefest moment, Jessica glimpsed such a look of pain and betrayal that she winced inwardly.

  Then, just as quickly, Vince’s gaze became hooded under lowered brows. Cold, hard anger jetted from his eyes, replacing any other emotions Jessica had seen just a moment before; so swiftly, in fact, that she wondered if she’d seen anything else at all.

  “Right, Pop,” Vince growled. “What we have here is the perfect little family. Isn’t that just so sweet to see? How incredibly happy you must be that your prodigal son has returned.”

  Still glowering, Vince turned on his heels and swiftly stalked away before anyone could offer a reply to his harsh words.

  Jessica whirled around, wondering how to diffuse the situation. Not surprisingly, Nate was glowering at the now-empty doorway, and Jason’s expression was a mask of confusion, followed by a mixture of acknowledgment and regret.

  “Your brother is not happy.” Though Jason was stating the obvious, both Nate and Jessica stared at him as if he’d just made some spectacular revelation.

  “No kidding,” Nate groaned. “I’m sorry, Pop. I never should have come back here. I’m just making things worse for everybody.”

  “No.” Jason’s one-word response was clear and shrill and brooked no argument. The foggy look that usually clouded his eyes had dissipated completely and he was looking at Nate with cool lucidity.

  Nate’s eyebrows rose and his jaw dropped. Jessica thought her expression might mirror Nate’s, and she pinched her lips together to make sure her mouth was still firmly closed.

  “This is your home,” Jason continued. “You belong here. Gracie belongs here.”

  Privately, Jessica agreed with Jason’s assessment, but she knew it would take much more than a few simple words to convince Nate.

  “But Vince—” Nate started to argue, and then was cut off by his father’s harsh look.

  “Vince has not been happy for a very long time. Far before you came back home. I know you think you’re the cause of all his troubles, but you aren’t. Vince has many things to work through, but it will go better for him if he has his brother’s support.”

  “I don’t know, Pop.”

  Jason jerked his head to one side. “I raised two very stubborn sons.”

  Jessica pinched her lips again, this time to keep from smiling. She definitely agreed with Jason’s opinion of the relationship between Nate and Vince. She had never met two more willful men.

  Nate frowned and shrugged, but didn’t offer any further comment.

  Jason smiled, looking as if he’d won a battle. “Good, then,” he said, as if punctuating the conversation. “Now let me see my little granddaughter.”

  Chapter Eight

  It wasn’t any real surprise to Nate that Jess had bowed out as soon as they’d left the main lodge. He didn’t know whether to be distressed or relieved. Clearly she didn’t want to talk about what had happened between Nate and his father—and most especially Vince—and Nate couldn’t say that he blamed her.

  He bundled Gracie back up in her snowsuit and plopped her into the backpack before swinging it on his back and adjusting the shoulder straps.

  “Ready to go, little lady?” he asked the squirming baby.

  Gracie patted him on the head, which he took as her version of “Let’s go!”

  Nate realized he had inadvertently thrust Jess right into the middle of a family squabble. In all fairness, she had known Vince longer than she’d known Nate. Not to mention the fact that Vince was Jess’s employer. It wouldn’t be right of Nate to make her choose between the two of them.

  He was certain she’d had no idea what she was getting into when she’d offered her support to him today. He hadn’t known it would go down like this.

  His father, at times lucid and at others frighteningly befuddled.

  Vince barging in on their reunion and disrupting what would otherwise have been a tender moment.

  Pop commenting on what a sweet little family Nate and Jess and Gracie made. Right out of left field, but dead on the money, Nate thought.

  At least on his and Gracie’s side of things, it certainly was. The more time he spent with Jess, the more time he wanted to spend with her. Although if he were honest, the look of utter shock and surprise on Jess’s face when Pop had made his pronouncement about their little family led Nate to believe Jess hadn’t thought about it as much as he had—if at all.

  Was she just being friendly to a hopeless-case marine and his baby? If the current he felt running so strongly between ran no deeper than that on her side, how was he going to turn the stakes in his favor?

  It was more frightening to Nate to face rejection from Jess than to face da
nger or pain.

  The question now was definitely how, not if. Jess had become too much an ingrained part of his and Gracie’s life for Nate to even consider not pursuing a relationship with her. He’d never experienced the kinds of heartfelt sensations he did when he was around Jess. That had to count for something.

  He stepped out of the lodge and absently noted that the weather was now cloudy and overcast, kind of like his mood right now, he thought. But he suddenly had to thrust those thoughts aside as he was confronted with a more immediate problem.

  Rather than hide out in his office as Nate would have expected his brother to do, Vince was at the side of the lodge, measuring and cutting long sections of two-by-fours, a baseball cap turned backward on his head and a pencil tucked behind his ear.

  Nate’s first thought was to turn another direction, but it was already too late for that. There was no avoiding Vince now.

  Vince, obviously spying Nate, had pulled himself to his full height and allowed the tape measure he was using to snap shut, echoing in the air. He stared at Nate as if he thought him from another planet.

  With a sigh, and an immediate, involuntary tightening of his shoulder muscles, Nate trod up to Vince and slid to a stop in the gravel. Vince glared at him, and Nate scowled back.

  “What is your problem, man?” he demanded, tightening his hold on the straps of the backpack cutting fiercely into his shoulders.

  As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Nate wished them back, but the damage was already done. Vince’s brow dropped so low Nate could barely see his blue eyes sparking with anger, and Vince clenched and unclenched his fists as if he was internally fighting the urge to strike out.

  Bring it on, Nate thought. This was a long time in coming.

  As an angry haze swept over him, he forced himself to take a mental step backward. This wasn’t the way to solve their problems.

  He was annoyed that his father’s reception had been so much warmer than Vince’s, but now he’d made it twenty times worse for himself with his big mouth. His father had been right to call him stubborn. He was that, and a dozen other bad qualities, all wrapped up in a big, oafish military frame.