by Zoe York
Jenna clapped. “See?”
Sean growled under his breath, but he looked pleased. “Okay. Maybe I can come out to the next Search and Rescue meeting and talk about some running mechanics stuff.”
“We’d love that.”
As Tom and Sean talked about the team’s strengths and weaknesses, Jenna twisted around to poke Chloe over the back of the booth. “Hey, stranger.”
“Hey. You’ve been busy, eh?”
“But it’s a good busy.”
“We’ll need to do another big cook next weekend.”
“For sure.” She tipped her head to the side, letting Chloe glance past her to Tom, since that’s where her gaze seemed to be heading anyway. “Should we invite other people?”
“Like who?”
Jenna grinned. “Tom.”
“No.” A flat, sharp, quick answer.
Interesting. But Jenna wasn’t going to dig into that right now. Not when her French toast was on its way over. “Food time. Talk later.”
They dug in, but she only got halfway through her meal when her phone vibrated. She pulled it out of her back pocket.
“Oh!” She grinned as she read the text message. “One of the other midwives is with a labouring mom, and could use me as a second.”
Sean was already on his feet, waving at the waitress. “Can we get some takeout boxes?”
“You could stay and get a ride home with Tom.”
He didn’t even look at his friend. “This is your first call out. It’s kind of a big deal. I’m coming home with you.”
Her heart melted. “Thank you.”
They shoved the rest of their breakfast into the cartons and waved goodbye to Tom. In the truck, Sean held her phone while she talked to Nadine on speaker.
“I’m just heading home to grab my bags and a two minute shower, then I’ll hit the road. ETA to your location, about an hour, hour-ten tops.”
“Sounds good. She’s progressing really nicely, went from six to eight in the last two hours—” Jenna liked the sound of that cervical dilation “—so it should be a good day for an awesome home birth.”
“Oh, yeah! I’ll see you soon.” Jenna was grinning as she parked the truck. “I’ll have to take a rain cheque on the nap.”
Sean leaned across the cab and kissed her softly. “Any time.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
AFTER JENNA LEFT in her sporty crossover, zinging with excitement over her first birth on the peninsula, Sean set about to unpack the truck and get the camping gear cleaned and back into the garage.
It took him a solid two hours, but he did it, and at the end, he didn’t fall flat on his bed. Progress.
He cracked a beer to celebrate, another first, and he stretched out on the couch.
His brain was churning ideas for coaching. Ways to make it work as a feasible job. He could reach out to the team he’d run with. He’d never been one of their stars, but they knew he knew his stuff.
He wasn’t sure he wanted to fly anywhere. But maybe he could organize some trail running retreats. If he was careful with his disability payout from the Army, he could make it stretch out over a few years. Take his time and build a business that worked around his limits.
When he looked back on how angry he’d been when he first came home, he felt a healthy dose of shame. He hadn’t handled being injured well.
And the last two days had cast a bright spotlight on the damage that had done to his relationship with Jenna.
His wife.
Jesus, he’d been so stupid to think he could let her go.
His beer was nearly empty when a knock came at the door.
Sean left his cane next to the couch and carefully made his way to the foyer without it.
Progress.
He opened the door, and his good mood evaporated.
“Sir,” he said to his father. “What can I do for you?”
The Colonel gave him an unimpressed look. “Invite me in, for starters.”
Sean waved his hand—and his nearly empty beer bottle—toward the living room. “Be my guest.” He stepped back, letting his father pass. “Would you like a drink?”
That got a grunt which Sean took as a no. He made his way into the kitchen and got rid of his own beer.
When he returned to the living room, the Colonel was standing in the middle of the space, glaring at the doorway as Sean re-appeared. “You’re drunk.”
Sean frowned. “What the fuck?”
“Watch your language.”
“So glad you stopped by, Dad. But I’m not drunk and this is my own home, so I’ll use whatever fucking language I want.” He swore again, this time under his breath, just for good measure. This was already going swimmingly.
“You’re swaying.”
“I have fucking vertigo.” And he really didn’t need to be making the blood pound in his head like that. He could feel a vein pulsing in his neck as he took a deep breath. He gritted his teeth and gestured toward the couch. “I left my cane there when I answered the door. I spent all morning tidying in the garage and I was having a beer—a single fucking beer—to chill the fuck—”
His father raised his hand. “Point made, Captain Foster.”
Jesus. Sean rolled his eyes, even though that strained his brain, and he threw himself into the nearest chair. He closed his eyes and counted to ten. “What are you doing here?”
“I was invited.”
When the fuck—oh. Jenna had invited him. Right.
“Jenna was called out to a birth.” So run along, old man. Thanks for the headache. Don’t let the door smack you in the ass on the way out.
“I came to see you.”
“Really?”
“Why is that so hard to believe?”
“Because you never bothered before.”
“I wasn't sure I'd be welcome.”
He wouldn't have been, until Jenna had issued an invitation—one Sean never thought his father would take her up on. He should have seen this coming, but he'd been busy realizing how much he loved his wife.
Priorities.
“Well, you came, we bonded, now you can check that off your to-do list.”
“That’s enough attitude from you, boy.”
Boy? He’d gone to war and got the brain injury to prove it. Started two careers, lost them both. Found a wife. Nearly lost her. Working hard on finding yet another new path through life.
He was too damn busy for this bullshit right now.
“I’m not a boy. Haven’t been for a long time.”
“You’ll always be my boy.” There was an attempt at fondness in his father’s voice, but that just made Sean see red.
“You think you have that right?” He pushed himself out of the chair and carefully—no fucking swaying, not now, no matter how much the room spun around him—walked over to his cane. He grabbed it and paced back towards the archway to the hallway. They’d have this out, then he’d show the old man the door. “When was I ever, eh? Colonel Foster was never, has never been a caring, loving father to this man. So keep your platitudes for my brothers who don’t see you as the cold, pathetic shell that you are.”
So that’s what it felt like for twenty-plus years of antagonism and resentment to boil over.
Excellent. He was all warmed up now. He leaned against the doorframe and sneered. “What, nothing to say?”
His father crossed his arms and gave him a hard look. “This wasn’t how I expected this conversation to go.”
“What were you hoping would happen?”
“I…” His jaw worked and his eyes glinted dangerously. “I don’t know how to talk to you.”
“You never did.” Sean laughed, hard and sharp, completely without humour. “Because you never cared about me. You gotta care to pay attention. To listen to what a toddler needs. You want to call me boy? You should have been around when I actually was one.”
“I care about you. I always have.”
“You have a twisted way of showing it.”
; “I admit we’ve never been close. I’m to blame for that. Your brothers got some time with an innocent dad, who thought he had the world in his hands. You got me. I’m a shitty father, and I know that. But it doesn’t change the fact that you’re still my boys. All four of you. I…”
“You what?”
“I love you,” the Colonel said gruffly. “In my own way.”
Sean shook his head. “Why do you have to add that on the end? Like you want to be some kind of hero, but only a little bit.”
“I’m no hero, of any kind.” His father’s face twisted into an ugly mask Sean had seen many times before.
His own anger made him want to feed on that ugliness, to push him further, push him the hell out. Push, push, push.
But there was something else in his father’s expression. An edge which now took on a new meaning for Sean. He’d never understood it before.
He’d seen it plenty.
He’d just never read it as anguish before.
But that’s what that sharp glint in the Colonel’s eyes was, no doubt about it.
Sean had never thought of his father having a soul. He was a hard man, through and through. But right now, there was a bleak, destroyed pain in the other man’s expression.
Sean recognized it, because he knew it intimately.
He knew anguish, and he knew loss. He knew what it was to see your dreams evaporate. “You didn’t…” His throat felt thick and useless.
All the fight slipped out of Sean and he dropped his head. He couldn’t breathe as he tried to make this right, somehow. His father might not deserve much, but he deserved this. “I know I took her from you.”
The Colonel froze.
They never talked about her. There were pictures all over the rambling house on the other side of town, but they never spoke of Sean’s mother.
“What did you say?”
“I…” He dragged in a breath. “I get it now. Now that I have Jenna. When I was hurt, I told myself it would be better if she left me. I didn’t want to drag her down the way I’d—”
His father’s face went white. “Don’t you dare let her go.”
He shook his head. “I won’t.”
“You didn’t take your mother from me,” his father said quietly, his voice cracking.
“I was—”
“If she hadn’t had you, she’d have just dropped dead. You bought her another two years of life. I’m the one who failed her, son. Not you.”
“I tired her out.”
“You made her so happy. You brought her joy.”
“I don’t remember her.” Sean lifted his head, knowing he looked just as wretched as his father did.
“She was…” The Colonel walked toward him then stopped.
Well, fuck. Sean paced forward and let his father pull him into an awkward hug.
“She was beautiful,” his dad said, his voice muffled. “Endlessly patient with you boys. She found joy in the chaos in a way I never could.”
Sean didn’t know what to say to that, so he squeezed his father harder.
But the old man wasn’t done accidentally slaying him. “She made me promise to be gentle with you.” He grunted in what could only be an acknowledgement that the promise had not been lived up to. “I failed her, and I failed you.”
It was more words than they’d ever exchanged.
It overwhelmed Sean.
“I’m fine,” he finally said.
“You’re more than fine.” The Colonel’s jaw flexed as he stepped back. He clapped his hand on Sean’s shoulder and nodded. His eyes were bright, but clear.
And the emotional connection was over.
They were Fosters, after all. Hard as fuck.
Sean would collapse from the weight of this conversation later. When he was alone.
Or maybe when Jenna got home, and he could hold her.
Until then… “Are you sure I can’t offer you a beer?”
His father gave him a firm nod. “All right, then.”
“And maybe you could come back for dinner sometime when Jenna’s home.”
That got a smile. “You did right with that one. She’s smart as a whip, isn’t she?”
“She is.”
“Pretty sure she had my number at dinner.”
And yet his father came anyway, knowing Jenna could see through him. Sean returned the smile, even though his was still strained. “She’ll be glad you came by, and sorry she missed you.”
JENNA GOT home at ten that night. Sean had fallen asleep on the couch waiting for her, and he jolted awake when he heard the door creak open.
“Hey,” he whispered.
She gave him a tired smile as she dumped her bags in the entrance way. “Hey.”
“How did it go?”
“Big baby. Took mama forever to find the right position to push him out, but she got there in the end. They’re both well and tucked in for the night.”
“Amazing.” He stood and pulled her in for a tight hug. “What do you need now?”
“A shower, a snack, and bed.”
“I’ll make you something to eat.”
She dressed in her jammies and found him in the kitchen ten minutes later. Her hair was still damp and she’d twisted it into a bun on the top of her head.
He pushed a plate of cheese and fruit toward her as she slumped into a chair at the table. They didn’t talk while she munched. He could tell her attention was fading to nothing, and she just wanted to shut down after a long day. A long weekend, really.
When she finished, he pushed her toward the bedroom. He washed her plate as he heard her brush her teeth, then he met her in the hallway and tugged her toward his bed.
Their bed.
“I’ve got a crazy bedtime story for you,” he murmured as he tucked her in.
She was yawning again by the time he got to the beer offer. He skimmed over the fight about his mother. That felt too raw for tonight.
“Did he take you up on it?” she asked, her eyes wide.
“Yeah. We sat on the back deck for a while.”
“Wow. What a crazy afternoon for you. How do you feel?”
He looked at his sleepy wife, tucked into his bed. “Damn lucky.”
“I meant about your dad.” She gave him a soft look. “And that bit about your mom.”
She didn’t miss anything. He kissed her mouth, then the tip of her nose. “I told you. I’m lucky. I can’t change the past. But I can make sure you know how grateful I am for the present.”
She snuggled in close, and he tucked their entwined hands against his chest as she yawned one last time and fell asleep in his arms.
THE WEEK HAD STARTED with a roar, and early, and it didn’t let up.
Each day she was up and out of the house first thing, and by the time she got home, she was exhausted and ready for bed.
On Friday, Jenna left at dawn so she could stop at the hospital and check on a patient due to be discharged after morning rounds.
Sean got up with her and, as she got dressed and brushed her teeth, he silently filled her travel mug with coffee and toasted a bagel for the road.
She took both with a grateful smile, ignoring the way her stomach did look-at-me handstands when he reached past her to open the front door and brushed a quick kiss across her temple.
They hadn’t had any quality time all week. She was looking forward to a couple of days off, that was for sure.
For the drive, she cranked up the radio and listened to soul-deep aching country music. When she arrived in Walkerton an hour and twenty minutes later, she was all full of complicated feelings. They were in a good place, but it was hard to quell the rising drumbeat of want inside her belly.
But work was a balm.
In addition to scheduled clinic appointments with existing clients, Jenna had her first intake with a new client. Brenda was thirty-four weeks pregnant and had recently moved to the area. Their appointment ran into Jenna’s lunch hour, but she didn’t care.
After lunch s
he sat down with Nadine to do a video peer review—how they managed to keep up with professional development between smaller communities—and they discussed her professional development obligations for the next year. Then she had two more client appointments, and by half past five, she was ready to head home.
She texted Sean and asked if he wanted anything from the store.
He replied immediately. I’ve got dinner under control, but we need oranges.
Okay, will get those.
On the drive home, she changed the radio station. She’d had enough soul-deep ache for a lifetime. It was time to be grateful for texts about oranges.
When she pulled up in front of their little house, she noticed the lawn was mown. The front door was open, with just the screen in place, to let a breeze carry through to the kitchen.
She followed that path herself, and found Sean at the sink. She set the grocery bag on the counter and pulled out his oranges. “Here you go.”
He flashed her a quick smile. “Thank you. How was your day?”
“Pretty good. Did an intake for a new client today who’s new to the area, so I should have a delivery of my own to manage soon enough. I’ve missed that.”
“Awesome.” He turned away from the sink and grabbed a tea towel to dry his hands.
She looked around the kitchen. “What are we having for dinner?”
It was spotless, but also empty of any cooking evidence.
He grinned. “Bring one of those oranges and come with me.”
He grabbed his cane and with his free hand, gently took hold of her. His fingers wrapped around hers, strong and warm, and he led her to the back door. She forced herself to ignore the electric currents streaking up her arm from where he touched her.
She had texts about oranges and a mowed front lawn. A clean kitchen and a happy smile.
It was a hell of a lot more than she’d had three months earlier.
Sean pushed the door open and stepped onto the back porch. When he moved out of the way, she gasped, because in the middle of the yard was a rug.
A Persian rug, covered in dishes.
“A picnic?” She asked, her heart thumping against her chest.
“Sort of,” he said. He carefully stepped down off the porch and pointed to the back of the house.