If I Loved You

by Leigh Riker

  Ann knew that tone. It went with the look he had given her the day Brig Collier had tried to get into his parents’ house.

  “You’re welcome. Molly told you about his fight?”

  But Jeff only said, “Yes,” and then, “I’ll talk to him later.”

  “I took his temperature. It’s pretty high.”

  “I’ve already called his pediatrician. Come on, Ernie.” He held out the jacket. “Put this on and we’ll be home in no time.”

  “Can I ride in the police car?”

  “I brought it just for you.” Jeff had been on duty when the center phoned him, but instead of being annoyed, he was making his son feel special with this occasional treat of a ride in the police cruiser, and Ann’s spirit twisted a little more inside. She almost missed him calling her Annie.

  Ernie struggled into the coat. “Miss Ann’s going to come visit me.”

  “We’ll see.” He lifted Ernie into his arms. As he passed her, Jeff leaned close so she could hear his lowered tone. “Or maybe you’re afraid,” he said with a short pause before he finished, “of picking up this virus.”

  “I’m not afraid,” she said, although she was suddenly shaking again.

  “Ann Walker, you’re the most frightened woman I’ve ever met.”

  He happened to be right.

  Which must be the least horrible thing he thought about her.

  Ever since the night she’d told him about the accident, she’d been trembling over that look in Jeff Barlow’s eyes.

  Terrified of losing him.

  Hey, Collier. News flash: All you-know-what has broken loose. Your phone is about to ring off the hook. Team’s ready to go. The fuse is lit. Get back here, buddy, or you’ll miss the train. We need you! Hugs to the little lady. Who’s the lucky person who gets to keep her? H.

  HENDERSON’S LATEST MESSAGE—wordy for him—had arrived minutes before Brig received his new orders. His team was waiting for him. He had missed them, and he was champing at the bit to get back into the action. But he was also in mourning—and not only at the prospect of leaving Laila behind. Assuming he could find a nanny for her to stay with Laila next door.

  The obvious pain on Thomas’s face that morning had shaken him, along with Molly’s too-quiet acceptance of the news about the now-unlikely expansion of her center. He knew that whatever gains he had made with Molly while he was here, he was about to lose again. After he’d kissed her by the sycamore tree, no way would she forgive him for leaving Liberty, and her, this time.

  Well, the least he could do was show Molly some support tonight.

  He was already pulling into the community center parking lot. From the light spilling out the windows, and the murmur of voices he could hear as he climbed out of the car, he knew the six o’clock meeting was in progress. He could imagine Molly’s nerves at facing the zoning commission, including Natalie Brewster.

  As Brig entered the room, Natalie was speaking. He saw Thomas in the front row and joined him, taking the aisle seat and earning a quick nod from the older man. Ann sat on her father’s other side, looking tense. And there was Molly beside her, her hands knotted in her lap and a pallor on her face that alarmed him. Was she about to faint?

  * * *

  MOLLY’S STOMACH CHURNED AGAIN.

  “...and there is the overall issue of noise,” Natalie was saying over the old microphone, which emitted shrill squawks every few words. Tonight she wore an acid-yellow pantsuit. Gold rings glittered on her hands, and larger shapes adorned her ears. Molly thought they looked to be hummingbirds. “Day after day, children playing on those swings—and a rock climbing wall, I understand—shrieking and shouting... The impact on many of our older residents could be just too much to live with.”

  From their seats several other neighbors echoed their agreement, and someone clapped. After each comment Natalie spoke again. Who knew until recently that Little Darlings was so unpopular in the residential area?

  “Natalie, your time is up,” the moderator informed her. “That’s it for our commission members. We need to hear—briefly—from any other citizens who have views before we take the vote. I will now open the meeting for responses from anyone who wishes to speak to this proposal.”

  Molly’s stomach churned even more.

  With a huff, Natalie sat down at the table. Now the owner of a service station in town got up. He lived on Molly’s street, too, but, to her relief, had no objection to the center’s expansion. His twins had attended Little Darlings before they went to kindergarten, and he had nothing but praise for how the center was run. The noise never bothered him.

  After a few more pros and cons were presented, Molly watched a woman approach the microphone. It was Ashley Jones’s mother.

  Melissa cleared her throat. “I’m here tonight not because I live on the same street where Little Darlings is located. I don’t. But I’m at the center every day. My daughter has been going there since she was born.” Melissa swallowed. “And I have many friends here who’ve told me just how much their ‘older’ children have learned at Little Darlings. It’s a great facility—never mind the noise of children playing—and I see no reason that you shouldn’t grant the zoning exemption to expand it.”

  “Thank you for your input,” the chairman stated.

  Melissa held the mike. “I haven’t finished. When Ashley was born, I was the most insecure new mom you could find. But Molly gave me confidence.” Melissa sent her a smile. “She’s not only a good director for the center, a hard worker and an asset to this community. She is a kind and generous person who deserves nothing less than your full support—and her day care center does, too.”

  A smattering of applause broke out.

  “Thank you,” Molly mouthed to Melissa, and got a thumbs-up in return.

  All the encouragement tonight was far more than she had expected.

  Still, it wasn’t enough. Molly didn’t care for public speaking any more than she had writing her proposal, but this was her business, her future on the line. If she’d managed to make her presentation at the last meeting, she could defend it now. She stuck a hand in the air, then approached the balky microphone.

  “Good evening. I want to thank everyone for coming out tonight—and for being so interested in our community. I appreciate all the comments, both for and against the expansion of my day care here in Liberty. But as flattered as I am by every one of the endorsements—” she glanced at Melissa “—this really isn’t about me. It’s about Little Darlings—and whether building onto my current place of business would be a benefit or a detriment to this area.”

  Molly paused to clear her throat before she went on. “I understand all your concerns about the noise. Children don’t think about how loud their voices might sound to others. They’re too busy having fun. I want them to be able to do that—but not at the expense of others. So I will do everything I can to ensure that noise is not a problem. For our new playground, as one example, we’ll be using recycled rubber tires for the base, which should absorb much of the sound. I’ll be talking to my architect, but I believe we can relocate the new climbing wall—certain to be a popular fixture—behind the present carriage house building to further muffle noise.”

  She paused, glancing around to see that everyone was still paying attention. “I and my staff will do anything else we can to minimize sound. I can’t guarantee it will always be quiet on the street, but I feel Little Darlings definitely does more good than harm. I hope you’ll agree. And, please, if you have any other issues, don’t hesitate to let me know.”

  Molly was about to sit down when she had one last thought.

  “Oh, and by the way—on evenings and weekends when most residents are home, the center is closed. The neighborhood will be peaceful. Little Darlings is a part of this community and we strive to be good citizens. Thank you.”

&nb
sp; When she sat down, Molly saw Debbie Crandall sitting across the aisle with her husband, both of them frowning. Oh, no. What if she got up and spoke about this morning’s fight in the hall? Between his parents, Benjamin was kicking the chair in front of him, his nose now swollen like a prizefighter’s. Debbie started to rise, but to Molly’s surprise, Benjy stopped her.

  “I like Miss Molly,” he said, his voice overly loud in the now-still room. “She tells me to be good whenever I’m bad.”

  “Anyone else?” the chairman asked to scattered laughter.

  Debbie gasped and sat down hard in her seat without approaching the microphone. Her husband blinked.

  A few more people spoke, none of them as eloquent as Benjamin. Then it was time for the vote. Molly had done her best.

  When the voice vote began, she shifted in her seat. She felt breathless, light-headed. The expansion was critical. If she didn’t get approval to build, Playtime, which Debbie Crandall had referred to that morning, would benefit instead of Little Darlings. Benjamin wouldn’t be Molly’s only lost child.

  When the result of the vote was announced, the chairman’s words buzzed in her ears but their meaning didn’t register.

  At last the meeting was adjourned. A few cheers filled the room, and a couple of boos protested the vote. Molly sat there, feeling dazed.

  As the gavel came down, Pop was on his feet. So was Ann, and before Molly could rise, Brig was drawing her up into a hug.

  “I knew you could do it!” her father said with a beaming smile.

  Molly was stunned. She couldn’t appreciate the warmth of Brig’s embrace or the wide smile on Ann’s face. “We won?”

  “You won,” Brig said. “Let’s celebrate!”

  Pop didn’t seem to like Brig’s suggestion, but Brig wouldn’t take no for an answer. After a brief embrace with Molly, Ann claimed she needed to get home. She was never comfortable being even this far from her apartment or the center. Pop, she said, would drive her home in Molly’s car.

  All Molly could think was, at least she would have her expansion now to sustain her. When Brig left and Laila was no longer a part of her life.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “LET’S DRIVE INTO Cincinnati,” Brig said. He’d left Laila at home with one of Molly’s aides as a babysitter, and he seemed determined to celebrate, but for Molly her victory still seemed unreal, even strangely hollow. “Are you hungry?”

  “Starving,” she had to admit. “I couldn’t eat a bite before the meeting.”

  “I’m glad you were approved. That must be a load off your mind.”

  “I’ll have to be more than careful about noise, but with the new playground and extra space inside the center, I can take on more kids, offer more to them.”

  “Your kids,” he murmured.

  Molly used that phrase all the time, as Debbie Crandall had once pointed out, but tonight the phrase made her smile. “My kids,” she agreed. Still, it was the image of Laila that flashed through her mind. What if the little girl and Brig didn’t have to leave? What if he and Molly were right for each other after all?

  She resisted the urge to ask where Laila would stay when he left. The mission was uppermost in his mind now. Her reverie came to an abrupt halt when she realized they had entered the city’s Hyde Park neighborhood.

  “Isn’t this where you used to live?” Brig asked.

  “Yes.” The charming square lined with shops, the quiet residential streets that surrounded it, always reminded her of Andrew. “We had a house here.” Molly pointed at the nearby intersection. “That right turn, two blocks down, then one block left. But there’s nothing to see,” she said.

  “Isn’t the house still there?”

  “Yes, but...” Molly couldn’t go on.

  “You’d rather not see it,” Brig said.

  * * *

  BRIG WAS STILL scolding himself when he steered Molly into the restaurant on the town square less than a mile from her former home. Why had he wanted to revisit her past? Simple curiosity on his part since they were in the vicinity, or the need to know where she had lived after she had married another man?

  He was almost glad she’d resisted. That proposed visit had been for him, not her.

  “Teller’s is one of my favorite places to eat,” she said after they sat down at their table. “I love this room best.”

  The small but cozy space was adjacent to the crowded bar and downstairs from the rooftop dining area that she’d told him was popular in summer. Brig liked this room, too.

  “Great idea,” he said, “to open this old bank as a restaurant. The granite facade is cool but using this vault for dining space is even better.”

  The room boasted its original huge tumbler lock on the thick steel door, which stood open. They ordered wine—one glass for Molly, to celebrate—and Brig picked a craft beer he’d wanted to try. If he hadn’t just done something stupid again by suggesting Molly see her former home, this might have seemed like a date.

  Their first, he thought, in eight years. And, probably, their last.

  While they ate, Brig tried his best to keep the conversation light. He toasted Molly’s success with the zoning commission. They talked about her revised plans, even touched on their trip to Indiana and the fun they’d had with his parents in the snow, the Parcheesi game with his grandmother. Brig avoided any mention of his imminent return to duty, until Molly finally asked about the baby.

  “The nanny agency I’ve contacted is sending someone,” he said. “The woman looks really good on paper, but we’ll see.” He ran a finger down the label on his bottle. “If she doesn’t work out, I won’t have time now to interview anyone else. And once I get to base, my time won’t be my own. I’ll be in full mission mode. The team’s already turning up the heat.”

  “Then you’d leave Laila next door?” With her eyes downcast, and as if she’d just realized the nanny would be local, Molly finished her wine. “Maybe this candidate will be perfect. Maybe your mission—wherever it is—won’t last long.”

  “You won’t believe this, but at this minute I wish I didn’t have to go,” he said, realizing that was true for the first time.

  As always, Molly was practical. She reminded him in a brittle, accusatory tone, “But you do. You wouldn’t give up a job you’re good at.”

  “Am I?” he said, having doubts, not for the first time.

  Brig abandoned all pretense of eating and shoved his plate away. First Molly, he thought, and his boneheaded decision to leave her eight years ago. A decision that had changed the course of both their lives. And then years later...

  “I keep thinking about Sean,” he said. “I should have stopped him that day. Made him stay on base. Instead, I gave him permission to leave.”

  Molly didn’t look up. “If he’d stayed on base, he wouldn’t have seen Zada.”

  “He would have at least been here for Laila. She would’ve had a father.”

  “Brig, not to diminish Sean’s loss, but she has a father now.”

  Which didn’t help enough.

  A heavy silence fell.

  Molly had pushed aside her plate, too. Clearly, they were done. But Brig hadn’t finished spilling his guts.

  “He’s still gone, Molly. And here I am, all but trying to give this baby away like a bunch of old clothes so I can go back to the team. What does that make me?” He met her gaze. “You already know. I did the same thing to you years ago—as your sister recently pointed out. You called me—my guys—patriots once. But am I really?” He saw the distress in her eyes yet couldn’t stop himself. “Or am I just some guy running away from the kind of life other men have?”

  * * *

  NO ONE SAID a word on the way home.

  Well, it was home for Molly, but Brig had no real home except an apartment or condo or wha
tever in the D.C. area. He probably wasn’t there much except between assignments, and Molly envisioned a barren space with Spartan furnishings. Talk about lonely.

  She didn’t look forward to the next two days. She didn’t know how to say goodbye to Laila—if she had to—or, again, to Brig.

  He pulled the car into the driveway and cut the engine.

  Molly grasped the door handle but didn’t get out, and Brig simply looked at her in the dark, in the quiet. This might be the last time they would be alone, and she felt the undercurrent of tension, even greater than at dinner tonight or that night in the snow when the world, even with his parents there, had seemed to consist only of the two of them.

  “I want you to know how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for Laila,” he said. “For me.”

  Just what she needed. A tight little preliminary speech of goodbye.

  “What better place was there? Pop and I had room in the house. We all felt...awkward at first, for obvious reasons, but we adjusted. This leave provided you time to rest and get your bearings.” She added, “And to grieve for Sean and Zada.”

  “I’ll carry the memory of everything with me—our trip, the blizzard...”

  “The snow angels,” she murmured.

  “Yes, the snow angels.” His voice had turned low and thick. He was looking straight into her soul, and she could see what he wanted in his eyes. “Brig, don’t...”

  But he had put his arms around her and drawn her close, and he held on tight. He buried his face in her hair, as he’d done in the kitchen one night, and Molly felt him tremble a little, this big, strong warrior with an even bigger heart.

  Molly couldn’t help herself then. She lifted her mouth to his, and at the same time Brig moved even closer, and they kissed. “Oh, Molly.”

  Within seconds he took the kiss deeper, changing the angle, the pressure of his lips on hers, soft and hard, then gentle again, light and teasing and then desperate. And like that night on the walk nearby, under the sycamore tree, Molly felt the warm waves of desire flow through her like a tide. When he pulled back, he brushed one last kiss at each corner of her mouth.