The Navy lawyer—Navy because the Navy and Marine Corps shared legal officers—naturally assumed her lawfully wedded husband, Ryder’s stepfather, would take responsibility for her son’s care in her absence, and had filled out the paperwork accordingly.
All she had to do was sign.
Heaven help her, she did. Hatch had seemed a better option than the three military families she’d interviewed. Not that they weren’t all nice enough and willing to take care of her son for the length of her deployment.
It was just that Hatch and Maddie were family—the only family she and Ryder had left. Based on a marriage that existed on paper only.
Maddie, bless her heart, had been on board from the start.
The only bump in the road had been telling Hatch, after the fact, that he would be responsible for her son in her absence. He didn’t have a cell phone or a computer, which made it difficult to get in touch with him except though his aunt.
But those were excuses. Angela knew signing those documents without his knowledge or consent had been wrong. Which was why she was feeling so unsettled now.
Nibbling on another cookie, she wished she’d handled this whole thing differently.
“Mommy?” Ryder crawled out of his chair to tug on the hem of her top. “Can I have another cookie?” he whispered, as though his request was some big secret.
He darted glances at Maddie, too shy to ask her directly. He wasn’t the shy type, so all that would change quickly.
A whole year away from her baby.
She crouched to his level. He was an amazingly adaptable kid. But tomorrow she’d be leaving Henry’s Fork, and in three days heading for the other side of the world—while he’d be staying in Wyoming with people who were virtual strangers to him.
All this after losing his Nana Shirley.
As tempting as it was to give him anything he wanted right now, she did the parenting thing. “No, you may not. You’ll spoil your dinner.”
“You had four cookies.” He held up four fingers.
Four? Really? She must be nervous if she didn’t remember shoving that many cookies into her mouth.
“I’m bigger.” She tweaked his nose.
“You ready?” Hatch asked from the doorway. “We have a lot of ground to cover today.”
Angela pushed herself to her feet. Despite his not having vowed for better or for worse, she’d once again brought her burdens with her to Wyoming and placed them squarely on the broad shoulders filling the doorway.
Maddie was already using a washcloth on Ryder’s face and hands. “We’re ready,” Angela said, taking her son’s clean hand in hers.
“Maybe the boy can stay here,” Hatch suggested.
Angela followed his gaze to Maddie’s. The woman must have seen the panicked look on her face. “No, he needs to go with the two of you.”
Not that Angela didn’t want to be alone with Hatch—they’d have to talk things out sooner or later. She just wanted to spend every last minute with her son.
And Ryder needed to get used to his new family. Mostly Hatch, since the man wasn’t that easy to get to know. Angela had thought about having Ryder call him Uncle Hatch, to make it easier for her son. But the idea seemed kind of creepy to her.
Hatch was her spouse. And by default, Ryder’s stepdad. Yet having her son call him Daddy was totally out of the question.
She’d never explained to Ryder about his real father, let alone that she’d gotten married, and he had a stepdad who didn’t live with them. But who he was going to live with now.
Hopefully, she had a couple more years before Ryder started asking those impossible questions about where he’d come from.
Of course, with no man in his young life, ever, there was every risk of Ryder growing very attached to Hatch.
HE’D HITCHED HER U-HAUL to his truck, and she and her son followed in the Caddy. Turning onto the ranch road, Angela noticed first the For Sale sign, and next that the water pump mailbox stood upright, held in place by a tractor tire planted with a bed of colorful petunias.
Meadows were in bloom and water trickled in the creek. The scent of peach blossoms filled the air.
Hatch pulled into the yard and backed the trailer up to the barn, where they’d be offloading her stuff for storage. The thing about being the head of a single-parent household was she’d lost her housing with this deployment. Letting a house on base sit empty for a year wasn’t practical for the military.
She’d be able to get back on the waiting list when she returned. But for now Hatch’s Wyoming ranch was the closest thing they had to a home.
Angela parked under the cottonwood. Instead of a deer carcass hanging from the tree, there was a tire swing, low enough to the ground for a three-year-old boy to climb on and play. Thank you, Hatch.
Everything about the place had changed, yet seemed so familiar. The house had a fresh coat of light blue paint and new, darker blue shutters. No more cracked or broken windows.
The wire fencing was straight and the wooden fencing sturdy. Metal buildings had been power sprayed and those made out of wood painted. The only things missing were farm animals. Ranch hands to take care of them. And an owner who’d appreciate all the hard work Hatch had so obviously put into the place. Not for the first time she wondered why he’d even consider selling. He belonged here.
Meanwhile, the man who’d agreed to care for her son while she was away—maybe acquiesced was a better word—exited his truck and walked around to the back of the U-Haul and he started to unload.
Ryder had drifted to sleep on the short ride. Angela got out of the car and opened the back door, but waited for him to stir instead of waking him.
The drive from California to Wyoming had been a long one. Because of her time constraints, she’d driven the thousand miles in two days. And he’d already slept most of this one away.
They’d both be paying a price later tonight.
After lifting Ryder out of his car seat, she set him on his feet, and they walked hand in hand toward Hatch, who was making short work of unloading her few possessions.
Though she imagined most of Ryder’s care would be handled by his doting aunt Maddie, Angela knew she’d made the right decision in choosing Hatch, a Silver Star recipient, over a foster family.
She’d researched him on Google. That was how she’d learned of his Silver Star. The gold star with the tiny Silver Star at its center was the third highest combat decoration. Awarded for gallantry in action. In his case, facing down the enemy while badly injured. She’d asked Calhoun about it. All he’d said was that it was well deserved. And that she should ask Hatch.
Maybe someday she would.
And other awards. Too many to name. That brief online glimpse into his military career and her day trip to Wyoming six months ago were the total of everything she knew about him. Yet he was the person she trusted most to look after her son.
He looked up as she approached with her little one in tow. “I’ve got this,” he said. “Have you been inside yet?”
She shook her head.
“It’s safe to use the bathroom.”
“I have to go potty,” Ryder said on cue.
“Then we’d better check it out.” She smiled to herself as she and Ryder headed inside, remembering the last time she’d been in this house to use the bathroom. That Hatch was joking with her was a good sign.
The house had a new screen door, and the front door was unlocked. She stopped just inside, amazed how different the place was.
It wasn’t just clean, but empty. A fresh coat of paint in a neutral beige covered the walls throughout. No doubt the real estate agent’s suggestion. The downstairs was all hardwood floors and area rugs, with the walls between the family room, dining room and kitchen knocked out to form one big open space.
Only the den, through a wide arched doorway, was separate.
The kitchen was a total remodel, with stainless-steel appliances and new cabinets and countertops.
A butcher-block t
able with high-back chairs for a family of six formed a dining area near the kitchen. And a seating area off to one side had a couch, an armchair and accent tables.
Accessories were tasteful. The place looked nice, but staged, as if no one lived there.
“Mommy,” Ryder whined.
“Okay.” They trudged upstairs and straight to the bathroom, which wasn’t hard to find.
The second floor was carpeted wall to wall in soft beige. The agent had done a good job making sure the house looked contemporary without that ultramodern feel that would be wasted on a rustic place like this.
The first thing she noticed coming out of the bathroom was that the master bedroom across the hall appeared lived in. She peeked through the door and was surprised to find that Hatch seemed to sleep here, at least part of the time.
The bed had been made, though in a hurry.
A pair of running shoes lay near a chair, with running shorts draped over the arm. A change jar and other personal items sat on the dresser.
“Have you picked out your room yet?” Hatch startled her, but he was talking to Ryder.
“This one,” her son said.
“No, this one’s mine,” Hatch replied, leading them down the hall to a corner room. “How about this one?”
Ryder’s eyes popped. But he couldn’t have been any more surprised than Angela was. “I thought…”
She didn’t know how to finish without Ryder catching on that the move was more permanent.
As in a whole year.
“Maddie’s place is a museum,” Hatch said. “A boy needs room to run around, and if I’m going to be responsible for him, he’s going to stay under my roof.”
“But the For Sale sign out front?”
“I’ve changed my mind.”
She glanced at him again. He’d changed his mind because of her situation. Could she be any more of an imposition?
Ryder turned and pressed himself against her legs, all shy again. Peering up at her with expectant eyes, he whispered, “Is this my room, Mommy?”
The only room in the house that wasn’t beige, it was decorated like a Marvel comic book. With wall posters and superhero accents around the room. In one corner spidy web kept stuffed toys off the ground. A night-light beamed the bat signal to the ceiling.
Green Lantern bedside lamps.
Captain American drawer pulls.
Ironman bedding.
The new-paint smell was stronger in here, as if the vertical blue stripes that seemed to bring it all together had just been added.
Like, in the past seven days, after Grandma Shirley had died and Angela had explained her dilemma to Maddie, then let his aunt explain it to Hatch.
One entire wall was done in blackboard paint—magnetized blackboard paint. Brightly colored alphabet magnets spelled out small words a three-year-old might recognize, like CAT and HAT.
Numbers. 1+2=3.
And someone had written Ryder’s Room in chalk.
Angela smoothed back Ryder’s hair. “Yes, I guess it is.”
“Yipee!” The décor was a little “old” for a boy his age. But that didn’t stop Ryder from running over to the bed and jumping on it.
“Hey, no monkey,” she said, plucking him up.
He continued to bounce in her arms. “‘No more monkeys jumping on the bed,’” he said, quoting one of his favorite picture books. She hoped Hatch would read to him. She’d miss that cuddle time with her son.
Hard to imagine Hatch cuddling.
“That’s right,” she said, putting him down. “Tell Hatch thank you.”
Ryder walked over to him and tugged on his shirtsleeve. “Mr. Hatch,” he said, looking what must seem like a long way up. “Where’s Mommy’s room?”
“You want your mom to have a room?” Hatch met her gaze above Ryder’s head and nodded. She certainly hadn’t given her son the idea. She hadn’t even known about this room.
“There’s one across the hall,” Hatch said to Ryder. “And one down the hall on the other side of the bathroom, across from mine. You decide.”
Ryder scurried from one room to the other and back again. Both were empty for the most part, but one had a rocking chair, and a crib frame filled with collectible porcelain dolls. All of them had black hair and blue eyes. Ryder seemed to weigh the proximity of the presence against the rocking chair in the other.
He ran back for another look at the other room.
“This was my sister, Jessie’s, room,” Hatch said, standing in the doorway while Angela looked around. This room and the other had the same neutral paint as the rest of the house. “She died of SIDS. Those dolls are what’s left of my mother’s collection—the start of her hoarding.” He shoved his hands deep into this pockets. “They all look like Jessie. I’m having a hard time getting rid of them for that reason.”
Angela couldn’t imagine what it was like to lose a sister, a baby. Her heart melted as she looked at him.
Her son squeezed past Hatch and into the room.
“This one.” Ryder climbed up on the wooden rocker and, feet dangling, used his little body to set the chair in motion.
“We can move the rocker to the other room,” Hatch offered.
“No, this room’s bigger,” Ryder said with finality.
“Only if it’s okay with your mom.”
Ryder jumped from the chair and beamed up at her. “Do you like this room or the other room?”
What was Hatch doing? She wouldn’t need a room. She wasn’t even going to be here. But she played along. “No, this one’s fine.”
“Okay.” Hatch crouched to Ryder’s level. “We’ll fix it up nice while your mom’s gone.”
No, no, no! She hadn’t said anything to Ryder yet about leaving. Better to take these things one step at a time at his age. He was already overwhelmed by Shirley’s death, the funeral, packing up the house…
The drive to Wyoming.
Meeting family he didn’t know he had.
She wasn’t ready to check “Mom’s leaving” off the list yet.
“Are you leaving again, Mommy?” Ryder’s lower lip trembled. She crouched as Hatch stood up.
“Yes, I am. Is that okay?” Those thirteen weeks in boot camp had felt like a lifetime.
On the verge of tears, he shook his head. “Nooo.”
She was about to pull him into a hug. Of course it wasn’t okay. What kind of mother was she, leaving her baby? And yet, this was what she’d signed up for.
“Of course it’s okay.” Hatch put a firm hand on her son’s shoulder and led him toward the stairs. “Your mom has an important job to do for the Marine Corps. And you and me have the important job of fixing up her room for her while she’s gone.”
Angela straightened and followed them halfway down the stairs before realizing Ryder wasn’t crying.
CHAPTER FIVE
OUTSIDE, HATCH SPENT A FEW more minutes distracting the boy with the tire swing. Or maybe distracting himself as he pushed. He didn’t know why he’d told Angela about his sister. He’d just thought she should know in case Ryder picked that room, which he had. He didn’t want her to be afraid to leave her son with him. He might not know anything about raising kids, but he’d keep the boy safe and he could teach her a thing or two about not pandering to her son.
Angela joined them, and he turned over swing-pushing duties to her while he switched the car seat to the truck and grabbed a few more things she said they’d need. Then he pulled Grandma Shirley’s Caddy into the barn and covered it.
Rest in peace, pink Cadillac.
He was surprised the thing had even made it this far, hauling all that weight. Maybe they’d work on the car a bit while Angela was gone. That would be another project to keep them busy until her return. Funny how all these projects were designed to keep him busy and not the boy.
Hatch didn’t have a clue how to entertain a kid.
He stepped out of the barn and stopped. Laughter. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard that sound around h
ere.
She had her son in her lap, and they were swinging like a couple of kids. Hell, he would have thought she’d matured by now. Was she even twenty-one yet?
He had her birthday written down somewhere.
It occurred to him he kept harping on her age because he’d never felt that young or carefree. From very early on he’d been doing men’s work alongside his father and grandfather. Then had come the day when he’d had a man’s responsibilities.
No time for tire swings. No time for skinny-dipping or floating in an inner tube down the creek on a lazy summer afternoon. No time in the fall for football or making out under the bleachers after the game.
No time for tractor pulls. County fairs.
Or underage drinking down by the reservoir.
Okay, maybe some underage drinking.
Hatch didn’t want to intrude on their fun, so he leaned back against the barn to watch. They didn’t have a lot of time left together before she had to leave. He could give them a couple more minutes of playtime.
Now that he’d been medically retired at thirty, had a steady retirement income and all the time in the world to play, all he could think about was finding some meaningful work.
Was he crazy? Ranching was a hard life.
But also a rewarding one. And maybe he was looking to find some meaning to his.
He’d been at loose ends since finishing up around here. Of course, with the ranch he could always find another repair project if he wanted to. And he’d have plenty to keep him busy working a cattle operation.
Taking the house off the market, at least while he had custody of the boy, was the right thing to do. He’d decided that a couple days ago, when he’d heard they were coming. Even though he hadn’t fully committed to any of it until today.
Angela caught sight of him and waved, then slowed the swing to a stop. He lifted a hand and pushed away from the barn. “You ready to go?”
She was flush with energy. Happiness.
“Mommy,” Ryder said in a stage whisper that Hatch had no trouble hearing. “Is this our new house?”
“Do you want it to be?” Hatch asked.
Marry Me, Marine Page 6