The Sergeant's Secret Son

by Bonnie Gardner

  “There’s a new Disney film showing in Darlington and I thought I’d take Cory,” Macy said, floundering for any reason to explain her haste.

  Willadean looked as if she wanted to say something, but she didn’t. And Macy didn’t want to listen. “Tell Gramma thank you for the cookies, Cory, then we need to go or we’ll be late for the movie.”

  “Thank you for the cookies, Gramma,” Cory parroted dutifully. “What movie are we gonna see?” he asked Macy in the next breath.

  “You know, the one you’ve been bothering me about,” Macy said, trying to dredge up the title of the film out of her overloaded mind.

  “All right,” Cory cheered as Macy ushered him out the door.

  “Thank you, Gramma,” she called over her shoulder. Thank you for not asking me all the questions I know you surely have, she said to herself, grateful that Willadean hadn’t pressed.

  Then she hurried Cory out to the car. The last place she wanted to be when Alex came back was here.

  BLOCK RAN until he was exhausted and his bum knee hurt like hell, but even the fatigue and the pain from the run and slight weakness from the blood he’d donated earlier that day didn’t prevent him from thinking about Macy’s betrayal. How could she have thought that he wouldn’t want to do right by his own son? How could she have believed that he wouldn’t have wanted both of them?

  Now he wasn’t sure who or what he wanted. Yeah, he wanted Macy and, of course, his son. But could he trust Macy? Once he would have thought so, but now…

  She had lied to him for five long years. She had let him believe that their one wonderful night had meant nothing. And maybe it had meant nothing to her, but he’d dreamed about it for years. Hell, he still dreamed about it.

  He’d assumed that Macy’s failure to contact him meant she had been fine, that he’d been in the clear. He’d also assumed her lack of contact demonstrated her lack of interest in him. He hadn’t blamed her. He was a trained killer; she was a healer. With the exception of the same hometown, what did they have in common?

  And now he had a son.

  And he’d missed four years of Cory’s life because Macy had believed he wouldn’t care.

  He breathed in a long, tired sigh. He figured that was going to be the hard part: getting to the point where he could trust Macy Jackson again.

  She’d let him down, and it hadn’t been about something trivial. She’d had his son, dammit. And she’d kept him a secret. Maybe she hadn’t outright lied, but it had sure been a sin of omission.

  How could she have believed that he wouldn’t care that there was a small piece of him living somewhere else in the world?

  Block trudged slowly back to the clinic where his car was parked. He tried to think calmly, rationally about how they could work things out. No easy solutions came to mind. He wanted so much to be part of his son’s life, but he was still furious that Macy had kept Cory from him.

  As he walked, trying to cool down his heated body and his heated temper, he realized that Macy’s distrust of him had to have something to do with her father and his apparent abandonment of her. He had to figure out a way to make her believe she could trust him, and men in general.

  He’d heard her call Cory by his full name the other day: Cornealius Jackson. She couldn’t be too angry with her father if she’d named her son after him.

  Block shook his head. Macy was one woman full of contradictions, and he expected that he had his life’s work in front of him trying to figure her out.

  He’d known Cornealius Jackson a long time ago, and from what he remembered, the man had seemed like a stand-up kind of guy. There had to be a damned good reason he hadn’t come back for his family. Maybe if Macy knew why her father hadn’t returned for her, she’d reassess her thinking about men. And him.

  Of course, he had to find out exactly why Corny Jackson had stayed away too long. And he had to be sure that his reason for staying away was a good one. But first things first. He knew just who would be able to find out.

  One of his combat control teammates had married a woman who was an ace computer researcher and worked for a detective agency that specialized in background checks back in Florida. He would bet that Jennifer Larsen would know exactly how and where to look.

  That decided, he made his way back to his car and hurried toward home.

  By the time he reached Gramma’s house, Block was still damp from running, but cooler, and maybe even a little bit calmer. He needed to ask Gramma a few questions about Cornealius Jackson before he could call Jennifer. And maybe he could get a little more information about Macy and his son from Gramma, too. But, he figured, the info about Corny was his top priority.

  He just hoped he wouldn’t be greeted with an inquisition of the Gramma kind when he got inside. He chuckled, in spite of his anger. When he was growing up he’d thought his grandmother must surely have once worked for the FBI, the way she could squeeze the truth out of an unwilling kid.

  He parked at the edge of the road and stepped out of the SUV. A slight breeze hit his still-moist skin and reminded him that he was damp and sweaty. Maybe he should stay out here a few more minutes, dry off, pull his thoughts together before he faced Willadean Blocker, but then, he wouldn’t put it past his grandmother to come charging out of the house with a head full of questions.

  Block figured the best defense was a good offense, so he decided he’d best go in and get it over with.

  He did note with satisfaction as he strode up the walk, that there was no car parked in front of Macy’s house and there had been none other than his in the clinic lot when he returned from his run, so he assumed that Macy had taken Cory out. He was pretty sure that it was a delaying tactic. Now that he knew about Cory, he wanted to spend every moment he could with him. Did she seriously think she could keep his son from him forever?

  She obviously didn’t know much about the persistence of special ops combat controllers. And that was okay with him. Maybe if he kept her off balance, he could prevent her from pulling something drastic.

  Why he thought that, he didn’t know. He was pretty sure Macy was an honorable woman, and he didn’t seriously think she’d cut and run with his son. She had too much to hold her here. But he had seen that panicked, desperate look on her face when he’d first confronted her. And it seemed so out of character for Macy to have kept Cory from him in the first place. What if she did take his son and run?

  No. He wouldn’t go there. It wasn’t possible. Macy took her responsibilities at the clinic too seriously. And she might have kept Cory a secret from him for five long years, but he didn’t think it likely that she’d do anything drastic now that he’d found out.

  A breeze rustled through the pines overhead, but it did little to cool his skin. The wind had changed, he realized, and soon the humidity would return. Block gave himself a mental shake. He wasn’t going to accomplish anything out here. Maybe he’d take a cool shower, dress in dry clothes and then see what Gramma could tell him about his son, Macy and her father.

  Gramma looked up just as he passed the kitchen door. He should have known.

  “What did you find out from Macy?” she asked. “That woman come running in here and snatched that child up like she had the hounds of hell chasing after her.”

  “No hounds, just me. I’m still waiting for a satisfactory explanation from her, and I think I’ll get it. For now, I’d sure like a shower and some dry clothes.” He didn’t wait for Gramma to ask any more questions; he just hurried away.

  As he stepped into the hot water, he knew he’d taken the easy way out by escaping his grandmother’s questions, but for now, he needed the break. He washed quickly and stepped out of the tub.

  He knew he’d have to talk about it to Gramma eventually, so he dried and dressed in a clean shirt and slacks, then went out to the kitchen to face Gramma. To face the music.

  “Okay, Gramma. Fire away.”

  Willadean seemed slightly taken aback by that, but she recovered quickly. “Well, Alex. I reckon I
know how babies happen, but in your case, I don’t know how Cory happened. As far as any of us here know, you and Macy never as much as kept company.”

  Kept company. That was a quaint, old-fashioned way of putting it, Block couldn’t help thinking. And what had happened between Macy and him had been anything but old-fashioned. It had been more like a case of spontaneous combustion.

  Block drew in a deep breath. “It was only the one time,” he answered slowly. Well, one night, he amended to himself. “That was when I was stationed at Pope Air Force Base, and C.J. had been stationed at Fort Bragg. Both of us had apartments in Fayetteville, and we were always in and out of each other’s places, so we had keys.

  “After C.J. died, I went over to see about packing up his stuff and sending it home, but when I arrived, Macy was already there.”

  He drove up to the apartment complex and was surprised to find lights on in C.J.’s place. It wasn’t like C.J. to leave them burning, but it was possible that he might just have run out in a hurry that last night before the deadly training accident and left them on. Block figured the least he could do was go in and turn off the lights and see to it that his family wasn’t held responsible for a large utility bill.

  Block hurried up the steps, two at a time, and inserted his key in the lock, but as he pushed the door open, he heard a noise inside. Years of combat training kicked in, and he flattened himself against the door. Of course, he had no weapon, but he had plenty of skill in hand-to-hand combat. He could probably hold his own against anything except a full-on shotgun blast.

  “You’d better either back on outside or come in with your hands up,” a voice that projected authority and confidence but was also decidedly feminine called from the interior of the apartment. Macy!

  What the hell was she doing there? Block raised his hands, but had to stifle a chuckle. “Macy, it’s me, Blo—Alex.”

  “Alex? Alex Blocker?” she called, her voice less sure this time.

  “Yes. Alex. Is my life in danger if I come on in?”

  “No, come on in.” There was a weary, yet relieved, note to Macy’s voice.

  Block left his hands up, at least until he could see if Macy was alone and that there wasn’t someone else in the apartment calling the shots. This apartment was in a fairly rough part of town. He stepped inside and kicked the door shut behind him.

  Macy stood there, C.J.’s favorite Louisville Slugger bat in one hand and a can of Mace in the other. Her coffee-with-cream skin was pale as milk, and her hazel-green eyes were red and rimmed with tears. “Oh, Alex, I’m so glad you’re here. I thought I could do this by myself but I can’t. I can’t.” She dropped the bat and rushed into his arms.

  “It’s so hard, Alex. It’s so hard,” she breathed as she pressed her face against his chest.

  He became instantly aroused and Macy knew it, and they both tried to ignore it. He could tell that Macy was well aware of what was happening, but she didn’t want him for that. Not then. She needed his shoulder, his arms around her.

  He didn’t know when it had changed, but he knew that she needed him. Still, he didn’t press, he didn’t push, he just stroked her silken, curly hair and tried to think of something comforting to say. But, truth was, there was nothing. He was just as torn up about C.J.’s death as Macy was. Maybe more.

  He and C.J. had done everything together, from taking their first smokes and drinks at the same time to joining their separate branches of the service the day after high school graduation.

  Now C.J. was gone. And he’d gone through that passage all alone. “I know. Macy, oh God, I know,” he whispered his voice thick with emotion.

  Block drew in a deep breath and tried to suppress the memory of that night. Even after five years, his feelings were still surprisingly raw. He and C.J. had been as close as brothers, maybe even closer. “Macy was just so torn up over C.J.’s death, and I think she was so startled by my surprising her, that I don’t think she knew what she was doing. There I was holding her, trembling in my arms like a frightened bird, and all I could think of was that I wanted to make it better. But I didn’t know how.

  “The next thing we knew we were kissing…”

  One kiss had led to another and another and another. At first Block didn’t know how very deep in they were, and by the time he did, it was too late.

  His kisses, at first meant only to comfort, grew bolder, more passionate, and Macy didn’t push him away. She responded to him in kind.

  “Don’t stop, Alex. Please don’t stop,” she begged, and he was too weak to deny her. He wanted her as much as she seemed to want him.

  As their kisses grew more passionate, Block knew he should try to bring it to an end, but his body was already throbbing and aching for her. As much as he knew it should be his call to bring it to a stop, he couldn’t.

  He tried to push himself away.

  “Don’t stop, Alex. Don’t stop. I need you. I need to feel like being here isn’t an ending,” Macy murmured between kisses.

  Alex tried to pretend he didn’t understand what Macy meant, but he did. He knew exactly what she meant. What better way to reaffirm life than to make love? Still, he wouldn’t push her. He had never taken a woman against her will, and he wouldn’t do it now.

  Unless Macy asked, he would deny himself. Even if it nearly killed him to hold back. Even if he wanted so badly to make love to her he could almost taste it.

  He tried to distract himself by playing with the silky, chestnut hair tumbling free around her shoulders. He tangled his fingers through the unruly corkscrews and tried to smooth them out. Tried to keep his mind away from the direction it keep taking him. He buried his face in her tangled, silken hair and breathed deep.

  Her hair smelled like peaches and cream and only made him hunger for her more. He drew back, moistened his lips, and tried to think of anything that would dampen his ardor. Macy was his best friend’s sister, and they’d only buried him a few days before.

  It wasn’t right. It wasn’t right.

  “Make love to me, Alex. I need you. I want you so badly,” she whispered so softly that Block almost thought he had only imagined it.

  “One thing led to another, and I guess we made a baby.” Man, that was lame, even Block knew that.

  “And you didn’t do anything to keep that from happening?” Gramma said, a censuring tone in her voice, a frown on her face.

  “I should have, Gramma, but we were too carried away.” He had used something the first time, but that next morning, in the shower… “When we came to our senses, we talked about it. Of course by that time it was too late. I gave her my contact numbers and told her to call me if there was a problem, and she gave me hers.” He drew in a deep breath.

  “She never called, so I figured everything was all right.”

  “And you didn’t think to call her?” Gramma asked bluntly.

  He’d thought about it. Long and hard and often. How many times had he picked up the phone, only to talk himself out of it at the last minute? “No, ma’am, I didn’t,” he lied. “But now I see that I should have,” Block said, and wondered why he hadn’t taken the initiative. He’d wanted to call, but he’d been so unsure of himself with Macy that he’d really wanted her to call him.

  That way, he would have known that she cared. That maybe she was halfway interested in him.

  Even if there had been no baby, he’d have known that she cared.

  Now he wished that he had taken the time to pick up the phone.

  Chapter Seven

  Normally, an afternoon at a movie with her son was a pleasant experience for Macy, but not today. She did not have the energy to concentrate on cartoon characters cavorting on the big screen. Not with so much hanging in the balance. The only thing she could think about was Alex Blocker and how she was going to explain to him so he’d understand why she’d let it go so long without telling him that he had a son.

  She glanced over to Cory, who was thoroughly involved in the movie. He laughed, and Macy enjoyed s
eeing him having such a good time, but she wondered what was so funny. She hadn’t been able to keep her attention on the antics on the screen.

  How had such a beautiful moment in her life turned out so complicated? Alex had been right there at the right moment at the right time after C.J. had died. And he’d been exactly what she’d needed. Of all the people in the world, he was the only one who could have understood the depth of her loss and the only one who had seemed instinctively to know what she needed to rise above it.

  And it had all started with something so simple as a kiss. A kiss she’d been dreaming of since she was old enough to understand that the notion that kissing a man would be a good thing.

  He kissed her. It was so wonderful just to feel those strong arms around her, to lean her head against this hard, broad chest. Alex kissing her in reality was ever so much better than she had imagined in any of her simple adolescent fantasies.

  Macy hadn’t been completely uninitiated to the man-woman thing, though the extent of her exploration had not gone beyond kissing. Still, the kisses she’d experienced before were like a single birthday candle in the darkness, and Alex’s were as illuminating as a lighthouse beam cutting through a dense fog.

  And once she’d experienced one of Alex’s kisses, she’d wanted more.

  Grateful for the concealing darkness of the theater, Macy blushed at how terribly brazen Alex must have thought her as she’d pressed so needily against him. She had never known herself to be so hungry, so greedy, yet when she had been in Alex’s arms, she’d felt as thought she’d been on a starvation diet and Alex was a table of hot, steaming food. She hadn’t been able to get enough.

  Macy drew in a deep, trembling breath, and tried to push the thoughts out of her mind.

  “Hush, Mama,” Cory whispered. “You making too much noise. I can’t hear what they’re saying.”

  From out of the mouths of babes, Macy couldn’t help thinking, and for a moment she focused her full attention on what was on the screen.

  But for only a moment.

  She couldn’t imagine that just kissing a man would leave her so hot and breathless and wanting. With each kiss, she’d expected to be satisfied, but, no. Her body went languid and liquid, and every kiss just left her wanting more.