Naomi hesitated. “All right. But just because I’m worried about her. Don’t expect me to get in the habit of siding with you against her.”
PENNY FELT AS IF she’d been awake for five days and had just finished a marathon. Her body ached, her head throbbed and she longed for hours and hours of sleep. Maybe then she would be able to forget what Gloria had told her.
She didn’t want to believe, but the proof was folded in her jacket pocket. The teenager looked so much like Cal. And knowing he’d had a child and then had given her up explained a lot. But it hurt to finally know the truth.
“You’re not leaving without talking to me first.”
She glanced up and saw Cal standing in the doorway to her office. He seemed larger than normal, as he filled the space and cut off her only escape route.
Hearing him out was the mature thing to do, although she wasn’t in the mood to do much more than throw a tantrum—something she’d sort of already done with the meat cleaver. She hadn’t meant to do that. One second she’d been holding it after chopping some beef, the next she’d heard his voice and the knife had somehow slipped from her fingers to go sailing through the air.
She sank onto her chair and drew in a deep breath. There was so much to say, yet she didn’t know where to begin. Or how to explain what she was feeling.
“You tried to kill me,” he said as he walked into the room and took the seat opposite hers. “Want to tell me why?”
“I reacted without thinking.”
“That’s a relief. I would hate to have you planning my death.”
She really could have hurt him. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
He folded his arms over his chest. “You won’t have your cooks arguing with you about anything.”
“A happy by-product.”
She tried to smile and couldn’t. Her eyes burned, as much from unshed tears as from exhaustion.
“Naomi told me Gloria stopped by,” he said. “So I know she has something to do with what happened. I can’t think of what she could have said that would piss you off so much.”
“Really?” Did he mean that? Could he possibly have spent the evening watching his daughter in a school play and not have any clue what his grandmother had said? “Then let’s clear things up right now.”
She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the playbill. After smoothing it, she slid it across the desk so he could see the picture. She watched him carefully as he studied the paper. His expression didn’t change, but his mouth tightened.
It was as if he’d hit her.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, in the deepest, darkest corner of her heart, she’d hoped Gloria had been lying. That despite the physical similarities, there was another explanation. She didn’t want to know that the man she’d loved and married had kept such a big secret, that he’d been willing to have a child with someone else, but not, as Gloria had said, with her.
“She told you about Lindsey,” he said quietly.
Penny leaned back in the chair and didn’t speak. She wasn’t being difficult—she knew that if she tried to open her mouth, she would start to cry.
He looked at her. “She’s my daughter. I was seventeen when she was born. I should have told you before.”
“You think?”
“Penny, I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you. When we were dating, it didn’t seem important. Then we were married and I didn’t know what to say or how. The longer I waited, the harder it was to explain. I never meant to keep this a secret.”
“We were married. I got pregnant. Never once did it occur to you to say ‘been there, done that’?”
“I wanted to.”
“Apparently not very much. No one stopped you.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I guess I hated what it said about me. That I’d given up my kid. It was a pretty typical story. My girlfriend, Alison, got pregnant. She didn’t want to keep the baby, but I did. I wasn’t sure how I could support us both, but I was willing to try. Then Gloria got involved and she said she would be there to help. We both know what that means.”
Her head was spinning. Wait a minute! He’d wanted to keep the baby? He’d been willing to turn his world upside down and keep his child? Her stomach tightened and she felt as if she might throw up.
“I couldn’t let her get her hands on my daughter,” he said. “So I agreed to adoption. Under the settlement, the parents were to keep me informed of her progress and tell her about me if she ever asked. They’ve been great about sending me updates and pictures. But while Lindsey knows she’s adopted, she’s not interested in her birth parents.”
He leaned forward. “She’s seventeen. Going to college. God, she’s pretty and smart. And just about grown up. I can never be her father. All that time is over. But I still like knowing she’s okay.”
Penny wanted to bolt. It hurt to breathe and she couldn’t think. Each word was a blow. He loved this girl so much. She could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice. He loved Lindsey and yet he hadn’t cared when she, Penny, had lost their baby. He’d barely acknowledged its passing.
“Is she the reason you didn’t want children with me?” she asked, barely able to keep her voice from shaking.
“Partly. I felt guilty.” He shrugged. “I know that sounds crazy, but I couldn’t help thinking it was wrong to have another child I could keep when I’d had to give up Lindsey.”
“Because she was the one who mattered,” she whispered.
“Yes.”
Penny did her best to keep breathing. “You knew I wanted children, Cal. Yet you never told me this. You never bothered to explain what was going on. Everything you did was for Lindsey. But what about our marriage? Didn’t that matter?”
“I’m sorry. I know it was wrong to keep everything a secret.”
That wasn’t her point. And he hadn’t answered the question.
“I thought I could do it,” he said earnestly. “I thought I could have more children. Then you got pregnant and at first it was great. But then I thought about us being a family and I couldn’t stop thinking about giving up Lindsey. I didn’t know how to reconcile what I’d done with the life we were planning. I never meant to hurt you.”
“But you did. You changed the rules.” She stood. “You were happy when I lost the baby, weren’t you?”
He rose. “No! Never. I wanted us to have children.”
“No, you didn’t. When I wanted to try again, you told me you’d changed your mind. You said you didn’t want a family. But that’s not true, is it? You did want a family, but only if Lindsey could be your daughter. No other child was going to be good enough.”
“Penny. Stop. It’s not about being good enough. It was about my guilt.”
His words didn’t make any sense. Then her breath caught and she realized she was crying. She brushed away the tears. “I have to know everything. Just tell me it all now. I don’t want any more secrets.”
“There aren’t any.”
“Did you even love me? When I left, when I threatened to leave, I was trying to get your attention. I wanted you to wake up and notice that our marriage was dying. But you weren’t even shocked. You let me go without saying a word. I remember thinking you were relieved. Did you love me at all?”
She had to know. Maybe it was wrong. Maybe she would regret it later. But for now, the information was essential.
Cal shoved his hands into his pockets and hung his head. “I’m not sure I knew how I felt,” he began.
“Oh, please. At least have the decency to tell me the truth.”
He looked at her. “I didn’t love you the way I should have. You’re right. I was torn between what we had and what I wanted to have with Lindsey. That’s why I let you go.”
Her body began to shake so hard she thought she might collapse. This wasn’t happening. All those years they’d been dating and then married, she’d loved him. Loved him completely, and with such hope for their future. She’d trusted him with her heart,
her life, her very being.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I cared about you.”
“I’ll be sure to hold on to that.”
She grabbed her purse and started for the door. He reached for her arm. “Don’t run out like this.”
She jerked free. “How should I run out? You’ve just told me that our marriage meant nothing. You weren’t willing to have children with me because you couldn’t get over giving up your first child. Tell me, Cal. Are Lindsey’s parents so horrible? Is she abused in any way?”
“What? No. They’re great.”
“So there isn’t any reason for your guilt, except selfishness. You don’t care about what was best for your daughter, you never cared about me. You only cared about what you felt. I don’t know what kind of game you were playing, but I’m sorry it took me so long to leave. I can’t believe how much time I wasted.”
Was still wasting. To think she’d made love with him, had wanted him. That she’d started to think maybe he was one of the good guys.
“You don’t understand,” he told her.
“I think I do. You couldn’t forgive yourself for giving up your child, even though it was the best thing for her. You’d rather live in guilt than have a real life, which is your choice. Only you pulled me in with lies and promises you had no intention of keeping. It was a game. I gave you everything I had and you were just playing.”
“You’re wrong,” he said.
“No, I’m not. You’re a fool, Cal. You missed out on something great with me. I don’t know if you’re afraid to love or just plain stupid. All I can say is I was lucky to get away from you.”
WALKER SAT alone in a corner of Reid’s bar and enjoyed the rowdy crowd. Since returning to Seattle, he’d found life too quiet. The military was a noisy place and after fifteen years, he’d grown used to the sounds of war.
He’d spent the day on the Internet, looking for class lists of graduates in the Seattle area. So far he’d managed to place Ben at two different high schools for two years, which meant he had more work to do.
He took a drink of his beer. As he set the bottle back on the table, he saw a tall, curvy brunette stroll into the bar.
In heels, she cleared six feet. A soft-looking sweater clung to every curve. Black leather pants left little to the imagination on the lower half of her body. Walker could picture her naked, her head leaning back, her long hair swaying as she rode him home.
His body tightened at the image and once aroused, it wasn’t about to let go so easily.
He told himself not to think about her or sex, although the two ideas were intertwined. Was that because of what he knew about her or was it the woman herself? Did it matter?
She glanced around the bar. He waited until her gaze settled on him, then he smiled. He didn’t do it often, but he knew how to curve his mouth in invitation. Someone more innocent might not understand, but he was willing to guess Naomi could more than hold her own.
She raised one dark eyebrow, then walked toward him.
She maintained eye contact, her gaze promising she would make it more than worth his while. Anticipation filled him, making him harder and willing to consider clearing the table with a single sweep of his arm and taking her right there.
“Hey, soldier,” she said. “Why are you all alone?”
“I was waiting for the right kind of company.”
“And who would that be?”
“You.”
That single eyebrow rose again. “I thought I wasn’t your type.”
“I never said that. I wanted a little time between me and my brother.”
“I can respect that.”
He rose and pulled out a chair. “Have a seat. What are you drinking?”
She moved close but instead of sitting down, she grabbed the front of his sweater and pulled him close.
Her mouth claimed his in a brief kiss that was all fire and promise and need. He felt her heat, tasted her sweetness, then straightened, just as she pulled back.
“Vodka tonic with a lime,” she said as she sank into the chair. “Which means you’ll be driving.”
He returned to his seat and picked up his beer. “My first of the evening.”
They were in a relatively quiet corner of the large bar. The round table was small and Naomi leaned close as she spoke.
“I wouldn’t have thought to find you here,” she said.
“Were you looking for me?”
She smiled. “Darlin’, I’m always looking.”
“Why is that?” He waved at one of the waitresses and gave her Naomi’s order.
Naomi stared into his eyes. “You’re one of those guys who likes a little relationship with his sex, aren’t you? You’re going to want to get to know me.”
He grinned. “Right down to your favorite color.”
“All right. But just this once. And don’t go telling anyone. It’ll ruin my reputation.”
She shifted so that her forearms were on the table, with her breasts resting on top of them. The position pulled down her sweater, giving him an eyeful of curves that just begged to be explored.
He deliberately stared into her eyes. “You’re trying to cheat.”
“A little. Is it working?”
“Of course. But we’re still going to talk first.”
She frowned. “Why is that so important to you?”
“Because I don’t get a lot of it in my life.”
Her eyes softened as her mouth twisted. “Dammit, Walker, don’t you start cheating, too. You’re going to tell me you’ve been in a war and there wasn’t any time for soft talk. Probably not any time for sex, either. You’re playing on my sympathy.”
“Is it working?”
The waitress arrived with the drink. “Here you go, hon.”
When she left, Naomi took a sip. “Okay—stop trying to manipulate me. We can talk. Why did you leave the marines?”
He opened his mouth to tell her what he’d already told Cal and Reid, but what he said instead was, “I owe a guy.”
“What? Money?”
“No. There was this kid, Ben. Lousy marine but a great guy.” He explained how Ben hadn’t had any family. “When he died, I’m the one who wrote the letter. I need to find his girlfriend so I can deliver it to her.”
“Why?” she asked. “What’s so important about a letter?”
“It’s all that’s left of him.”
She touched his arm. “There has to be something else. You don’t leave a career to deliver a letter. Why do you owe him?”
“He took a bullet for me.”
Walker stared at the table. He could still see everything about that moment as clearly as if it had just happened. It had been cold in the village. There’d been snow the night before and he and some of his men were following tracks. Insurgents had been spotted in the area. Everyone was on alert. Walker had been the most experienced and he knew they were going to have trouble, but even he hadn’t expected gunfire to come from the caves.
“There weren’t any tracks,” he said, more to himself than Naomi. “I’d checked the caves myself the previous evening and no one had been there. How could they have gotten in without leaving footprints?”
“Walker?”
He shook his head. “Ben heard something. I don’t know what. Suddenly he pushed me aside and then he was dead. The bullet caught him right in the heart. He didn’t have a chance to say anything.”
He finished his beer and leaned back in his chair. “I owe him. I’m going to find Ashley and tell her he died bravely. I want her to have the letter. Someone, somewhere has to care about that kid.”
She still had a hold of his arm. She moved her hand down until their fingers laced together.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know that’s lame and meaningless, but I’m really sorry. I won’t say anything.”
“Keeping my secrets?” he asked.
She nodded.
Tears filled her eyes. She might be forty, but she was damn beautiful. Her full
mouth quivered. A single tear rolled down her cheek. He brushed it away.
He’d always thought it must be a good thing to be able to cry. To ease the pain that built up inside. He never managed it himself. Not even when he’d crouched there, holding Ben’s body.
“I know how much it hurts,” she whispered.
He appreciated the sentiment, even as he dismissed it. She squeezed his hand.
“Walker, I know,” she told him. “I was married once. A long time ago. I had a child. A son. He was great. Smart and funny and curious and just the greatest kid ever.”
Another tear rolled down her cheek.
“I loved him. I didn’t know it was possible to love that much until I had him and then it was as if my heart couldn’t hold all that love. I would have done anything for him. I would have died a thousand times for him.”
There was another tear, then another. She brushed them away.
Walker wanted to bolt from the room. He wanted to be anywhere but here, because whatever Naomi had to tell him, he didn’t want to hear.
But he stayed because he knew if he left, she would be alone, and he couldn’t bring himself to do that to her.
“He was twelve,” she said. “We were in the car, just talking and having fun. I went to put a tape in. I’d done it a thousand times before. The tape slipped, I reached down to pick it up. It just took a second.”
Her breath caught. She pulled her fingers free and covered her face with her hands.
“Just one second. And then there was a car. It plowed right into us, hitting his side. He was killed instantly. I walked away without a scratch and my baby died. Not even in my arms. Just there, in the seat. I screamed and reached for him, but he was already gone.”
Walker shifted in his chair and pulled her against him. He could feel her sobs. He didn’t try to comfort her with meaningless words. Instead he held her tight.
“So I know,” she said against his chest. “I know how much it hurts. I know what it’s like to never forgive yourself, because I couldn’t. Everyone said it was just one of those things. That it wasn’t my fault. Even my husband. But they were wrong. It was my fault. It was me. I wanted to die. I took some pills and they locked me away for a while. When they let me out, I got in a car and I drove and I drove until the road ended. I was here, in Seattle. I lived in my car for a while, but no matter how much I suffered, I couldn’t forget what I’d done.”
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