by Loree Lough
“Who taught you how to do that?” she asked, flipping the eggs.
His voice cracked slightly when he said “Maude.” She tried to read his expression, to see if his expression matched the dry grate of his tone, but he’d already settled onto the seat of his chair.
“You were telling me about your first egg-frying experience.”
Somehow she’d have to find her way back to a chatty, upbeat mood, not only to blot out the dour reminder of what his mother had done, but to keep it at bay throughout the meal. He’d just uncapped the grape jam when Holly slid two perfect eggs onto his plate.
“What, no eggs for you?” he said when she joined him at the table. Pushing his plate closer to hers, he added, “Here, take one of these. I don’t need—”
“I tell a better tale when I’m not distracted by food.” And with that, Holly launched into her camping story, which started with a stormy night in the Allegheny Mountains of Maryland that all but flattened their tent and ended with undercooked eggs fried in a pie tin over a sputtering fire pit. “Half of what I fried up stuck to the pan, and the other half…?” She laughed. “It’s a minor miracle that we didn’t all end up in the hospital with botulism or salmonella poisoning.”
Bite by bite his midnight breakfast disappeared, and by the time the coffee urn was empty, she’d told him about the time she sewed the hem of her dress to the sofa slipcover and the upturned dresser fiasco, as well.
“What’s a minor miracle,” he said, “is that you weren’t crushed when the thing fell on you. What were you thinking, using the drawers as stairs?”
“I was four. I wasn’t thinking.”
He studied her face for a long, silent moment, as if imprinting every bit of it onto his brain. But why? Holly wondered. Was he planning to end things before they had a chance to begin? Not that, Lord, please not that. Hank had warned her that Parker might try to put distance between them, and that he might employ harsh words to accomplish it. He’s in for a rude awakening if he tries that, she thought, because having grown up surrounded by rowdy cousins, she’d taken the taunting “Sticks and stones might break my bones, but words will never hurt me” phrase to heart.
“What,” she said, smirking, “do I have bacon stuck between my teeth?”
His voice was anything but gruff when he said, “No, nothing like that.” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I was just thinking.”
“Uh-oh. That isn’t good news.”
Pressing his palm to her cheek, he added, “I’m glad we didn’t meet back then.”
“Because I was such a ditzy little klutz?”
That inspired a rich, full-bodied laugh, and Holly drank in every note of it.
“No, because I would’ve been right there in line with your family, trying to protect you from yourself.” His thumb was drawing slow circles on her jaw when he added, “I never could have let myself feel this way about a girl who was like a sister to me.”
Surprised and elated at his tender admission, she leaned into his hand. “How do you feel about me, Parker?”
The drowsy, relaxed expression vanished like the smoke of a spent match, and in its place appeared a serious, standoffish look that made her heart ache. As he sat back and started stacking plates, she thought, Will you ever learn when to keep your big mouth shut?
He gathered silverware into one hand and carried them to the sink. “I’ll say this…you’re still a klutzy little ditz, so it’s tough not to feel like a big brother toward you.”
A discordant, too-loud laugh bubbled from her, and she did nothing to stifle it. She hadn’t known Parker long, but in the weeks they’d spent together, his gentle nature and thoughtful heart had become more and more apparent. Though this big bear of a man had donned a uniform and hefted powerful weapons to defend his troops against unseen, unknown enemies, he would never consciously hurt her. For proof, she needed only to think back to the loving way he’d treated Maude as the orderlies wheeled her toward the operating room after her revelation. Who would have blamed him if, instead of kind reassurances, he’d stormed off, leaving hateful, accusing words in his wake!
If Parker ever aimed tactless words Holly’s way, it would prove something else: that he cared enough about her to push her away while he tried to get a handle on his churning emotions. He deserved better from her than to cower and waver because of a few sting-ing barbs. So she’d pray, pray as she’d never prayed before, for the strength to get him through this.
Because it scared Holly to death, thinking what might become of him—and of her—if she failed.
Chapter Eighteen
“I hope you won’t mind,” Hank said, folding and unfolding a small square of paper, “but I’ve made a few calls.”
Parker looked up from the keyboard. “What kind of calls?”
Hank straddled the chair beside Parker’s desk and leaned his forearms on its back. “I still have some friends in high places at the FBI,” he began, “who owe me big favors.”
It wasn’t like Hank to beat around the bush this way, and as much as he hated to admit it, the stall tactic made the hairs stand up on the back of Parker’s neck.
“After what Maude told you, I figured…” Running his fingers one last time across the paper’s longest crease, he held it out.
It didn’t escape Parker’s notice that, since his mother’s confession, Hank hadn’t called her “Maudie,” not even once. He felt bad for the guy, because like Hank, he too had clung to hope that the women from his own past might change, and, like Hank, he’d felt the sour sting of regret when they didn’t. Heart thumping against his ribs and hand shaking, he reached out to accept the notepaper.
The name, address, and phone number, penned in Hank’s architect-style printing, would take him straight to the door of Daniel Brant. Below that, Hank had written two more phone numbers and the Charleston marina slip where the man had docked a boat called the Sea Stallion.
“Weird, isn’t it, how you chose such similar names for your boats?”
Parker only nodded as Hank said, “He retired from the Air Force after thirty years when his wife was diagnosed with cancer.”
“What kind of cancer?”
“Breast. She’s in remission.”
Well, good for her. And for Daniel too, because Maude shouldn’t have had the power to squander his chance at a normal, happy life.
“Any kids?”
“Three. Two sons and a daughter.”
Parker ground his molars together. So he had brothers. And a sister. And Maude’s deception had kept them all apart all these years.
“When did they divorce?”
“Never married,” Hank said.
“What?”
Hank told the part of the story that Maude had left out that day in the hospital, about how just as she started to tell Daniel that she was pregnant, some woman walked up. “She told herself the both of you were better off without a man like that, a man who’d use women and cast them aside. And then there was the matter of Daniel’s background.”
Parker was having trouble wrapping his mind around the fact that his saintly mother had led him to believe, all these many years, that she and Daniel had been married when he died. So he hadn’t just grown up without a dad, he was illegitimate, to boot. “What about his background?” he steamed.
“Daniel’s father owned a manufacturing company that made parts for the big car corporations. Branched out into parts for the airlines. And the trucking industry. The family rubbed elbows with the rich and famous, and Maude was afraid they’d think she got pregnant on purpose, to trap Daniel into marrying her so she could get a piece of the pie.”
He was about to say, “It’s good to know she had some scruples,” when it dawned on him that Hank knew an awful lot about…about everything. “How’d you come by all this information?”
“Like I said, I have friends in high places. Called in a few favors. Asked the questions I’d have wanted answers to, in your shoes.” He shrugged. “But you’re under
no obligation to do anything with it.”
Isn’t it ironic, Parker thought—that Hank knew him better than his own mother did. He thumped the note. “Must have taken hours, digging up that much stuff.”
Hank chuckled. “How else was I gonna occupy my idle hours?”
True enough, Parker conceded. With Maude in the hospital, Hank hadn’t been anybody’s errand boy for weeks and had no obligations or responsibilities to anyone but himself. And the stray. “How’s Cat?” The question inspired the first genuine smile Parker had seen since Hank walked through the door.
“She’s good, and getting better every day.” He leaned forward and looked right and left. “You won’t believe this,” he said conspiratorially, “but she comes when she’s called. And she plays fetch. And sits upright on the couch, like a person.”
“You don’t say.”
Parker wasn’t looking forward to the day when he’d look as pleased, talking about a feline or canine companion. His e-mail program dinged, alerting him to a new message. Swiveling his chair to face the monitor, he clicked the tiny envelope. “It’s about Ben!” he said.
Hank moved his chair closer and read over Parker’s shoulder. “He’s a little skinny, but no worse for the wear.” Sitting back, he slapped his thigh. “Well, that’s just about the best news I’ve heard in months. Does your friend say whether you can bring him here anytime soon?”
“I’m still tangled up in miles of red tape.”
“I might know a way to cut through it.”
Parker faced him. “How?”
“Old buddy of mine, a former agent, ran for office after he was wounded in the line of duty. He’s a big-shot congressman now. Bet he could pull a few strings.”
The picture of Ben, smiling down at him from the shelf above his computer, made him say, “Call him. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“He could say yes.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You given any thought to what it’ll be like, raising an Arab orphan in today’s world? You could be opening him up to a world of hurt. Yourself too.”
Parker had every confidence that he could shield Ben from most of life’s blows. But bigotry and prejudice…could he protect the boy from that? Maybe. Maybe not. But he owed it to Ben to try.
“What about Holly?”
“What about her?”
“Ever wonder how she’d feel about helping you raise a war-scarred young boy?”
In all honesty, it had never entered his mind, because to this point, he hadn’t let himself believe he could raise Ben. As for Holly’s part in it, well, he’d been all over that ground a hundred times, as he tossed and turned during the nights. “She deserves better than the likes of a has-been gimpy soldier. Make that a has-been illegitimate soldier,” he ground out.
“I don’t think you’re giving her near enough credit. She’s no bigger than a minute, I’ll give you that, but the girl is stronger than most men I know.”
True, but that didn’t mean he’d consider foisting his sorry self on her.
“Maybe you ought to let her decide what’s best for her.”
“And maybe you ought to butt out. No offense intended.”
“None taken.” Hank got up to leave but stopped long enough to say, “You’ll regret it the rest of your life if you let her get away.”
The lock clicked into place with a hollow thunk, reminding Parker of the sound he’d heard a time or two in the past when he’d whacked his head crawling through a tunnel or ducking under a door frame. Maybe that’s what it would take these days to get things through his thick skull…a good hard thump on the noggin.
He couldn’t say if the man was right or dead wrong. But before he could even consider the possibility of taking Hank’s advice, he had a lot of work to do to get his head straight and his life in order. He owed that much to Holly, didn’t he?
* * * * *
“And I miss you too,” Holly gushed, meaning every word.
“Will you have time for a visit soon, I hope?”
Under other circumstances, she probably would have made the drive north two or three times between arriving in South Carolina and the end of the book project. But with Maude just home from the hospital and Parker in his brittle emotional state, Holly didn’t want to leave. “No, I’m afraid not, but I have a great idea. How about if you and Dad drove down for the Fourth of July weekend? There are a lot of terrific things to do, and you could stay right here at the cottage.”
She’d already explained that Maude’s double medical emergency made it necessary to arrange other accommodations for the B&B guests, and she told how she’d been helping out since Maude’s release from the hospital. “She says she’d love to meet you and that you’re more than welcome to stay as long as you like.”
“That’s a lovely idea,” her mom said. “I can’t think of any reason we couldn’t come, but let me talk it over with Dad and get back to you.”
Holly didn’t tell her that she’d already booked them the Lucy Suite, directly across the hall from her own room, and paid for a full week’s stay. “Is Dad home?”
“Yes, but you know your father. Hard to tell whether he’s tinkering in his garage or puttering in the shed. Hold on a minute.”
Holly heard the rustle-rattle of her mother’s hand covering the mouthpiece. “Bob,” she called out. “Bob, it’s Holly on the phone. She has something to ask you.”
A moment later, she heard a click as he picked up the extension. “How’s my girl?”
She could hear the smile in his voice. “I’m terrific. Listen, Dad, I was just telling Mom that you two should drive down here for the Fourth. I’d love to show you around Folly Beach. It’s the most amazing town.”
“What do you think, Laura?”
“I’d love it.”
“Wonderful!” Holly said. “Maybe, if you can stay awhile, we can take in some of the sights in Charleston. You’ve both been saying for years that it’s one of those places you’d love to see.”
“Can we get back to you on that, honey?”
“Sure, Dad. No rush. You can even come a few days ahead of the holiday, you know, to miss the worst of the traffic.”
“With gas prices what they are today?” Her dad laughed. “We’ll probably be the only car on the road.”
“Well, I’d better run. I’m supposed to meet Parker to—”
“Aha,” her mother interrupted. “This sounds promising.”
“What, calling her boss by his first name?” her dad chimed in.
“Your secretary calls you Bob,” Holly pointed out. “And Mom, you’ve called your editor Marv for as long as I can remember.”
The sound of her parents’ laughter was music to her ears. Oh, how she loved them! “All right, then,” her mom said, “get to your meeting.”
“We’ll call you in a day or so to let you know when we’ll be there.”
“Sounds good. I can hardly wait to see you. And guys? I love you like crazy!”
When she hung up, Holly felt the need to share her good news. Parker didn’t pick up, so she dialed Hank, who agreed to meet her for breakfast on the condition that she let him pick up the tab this time.
Once Agnes finished her usual flirtatious routine, she told him about her parents’ visit…and the reason she was particularly excited to see them. “I’m ashamed to admit that I took them for granted. All the little things they’ve done over the years that I saw as meddling and bossiness, well, even if that’s exactly what it was—what it is— they meant well.”
“Let me tell you, kiddo, if you were my daughter, I’d be all up in your business.”
“It’s a shame you never had kids. You would have made a terrific dad.”
“God knows what He’s doing. The little woman didn’t have the strength to carry a baby to term, but even if she had, she couldn’t have been a proper mother. Not for want of trying, mind you, but because of her health.”
He’d already told her that his wi
fe had been diagnosed with a rare form of leukemia shortly after they were married, and that after years of struggle, she joined her Maker in heaven. Holly understood his point of view, but if they’d had even one child before her death, Hank would have a family of his own now instead of filling that empty spot in his life with Parker and, to a lesser extent, herself.
“Have you talked with Parker in the past few days?”
“Well, sure. We’ve added a good thirty hours’ worth of work to the book.”
Hank snickered. “But have you talked with him lately?”
She knew exactly what he meant. Parker had a penchant for zeroing in on a project to the degree that he barely saw or heard anything not related to it. And since Maude’s bombshell, his tendency for focus had only sharpened. “Why?” She forced a grin. “What do you know that I don’t?”
“That little kid he met on his last tour in Afghanistan?”
“Ben?”
“One and the same. Well, it seems he’s safe and sound after all, and Parker’s working the bugs out of the paperwork so he can get him and bring him home.”
“That’s just wonderful! He must be thrilled. Does Ben know?”
“Not sure, but it’s doubtful. I wouldn’t tell him if I had any decision-making power in the situation.” Hank shrugged. “No point in getting his hopes up in case things fall flat.”
“Well, we’ll just have to pray like crazy that things don’t fall flat, won’t we?”
“Yep. So I hear you’re getting involved over at our little church.”
Holly laughed. “Not really. I volunteered to bake some brownies and said I’d man a table during the white-elephant sale.”
“I heard they, ah, persuaded you into singing a solo this Sunday too.”
“Yeah, but only if Emily Parsons’s laryngitis isn’t better by then.” She leaned forward and looked from side to side. “Just between you and me, I’m praying that she’s in full voice by then.”