Michael
Low down, dirty, good-for-nothing son of a bitch. How dare he make her feel sorry for him! Tara balled up yet another letter and tossed it in the trash. Michael owed her for the past five years, but she was still not going to cash his stupid check no matter how much she needed the money. After five long years, he was going to beg and plead to meet Madelynn, when he’d denied she was even his and hadn’t contacted her at all. That took nerve.
Those damn letters sounded sincere, and Tara hated him for that. But that still didn’t change the fact that she wasn’t going to give him the time of day. Never mind that there was a kernel of truth in his words. Maddie did need a father. Plus, being a single mother didn’t exactly open new doors for her love life, and she wasn’t getting any younger. Tara’s mother never passed up the opportunity to tell her just how quickly she was becoming an old maid.
Regardless, Tara would not give in to the pretty pleas of a self-professed changed man. Even if he was a wounded, crippled, award-winning soldier who served his country in a time of war. She shoved her hair out of her face and glared at the balled-up letter in the trash. Rolling her eyes, Tara fished it out and sat down at her desk to write a response.
Chapter 3
Why did he bother showing up at mail call? It was always the same thing: a bunch of bandage-wrapped bastards snatching up letters from girlfriends, moms, dads, siblings, church groups, or anyone else who wanted to write a soldier. Every day Mike waited on the edge of his wheelchair for his name, and it was never anything new. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. His parents died when he was ten, and his grandmother took over his care. She’d died two years ago. He had no other relatives he was close to. Save one. A little girl he’d never even seen, whose name he didn’t even know.
Every day he pushed himself in his therapy so he could find her. Since Tara wouldn’t write, Mike would just show up at her door as soon as they let him leave. Let her shut the door on a one-legged SEAL. He’d try until he caught a glimpse, something to get him through just a little longer until he could convince Tara he was a different man. Different enough to be part of his daughter’s life.
“Davis, Michael.”
Mike glanced around to see who shared his name. They were both common names, after all.
“Chief Petty Officer Davis, Michael.”
No one answered. Finally realizing that he was probably getting his early retirement paperwork or disability approval, Mike held up a hand and called, “Here.”
The nurse stepped forward and handed him a handwritten envelope postmarked from Virginia. Mike’s heart thudded hard against his ribcage when he read Tara’s name on the return address lines. He closed his eyes and inhaled slowly.
Wait until you’re in your room to open it.
He didn’t want to break down and cry in front of a group of soldiers getting happy news and love letters. And Tara’s letter was probably a tribute to bitter women everywhere. Justifiably so.
Mike turned his chair around and rolled himself down the hall toward his room. Once he was safely behind a closed door, he ripped the envelope open, a knot heavy in his stomach. He unfolded the single sheet of paper, and a wallet-sized photo fell out. He scanned the neat writing quickly.
Tara Marshall
310 S. Pecan Lane
Virginia Beach, VA
Michael,
Her name is Madelynn. Here’s a picture.
Tara
He held up the picture with shaking hands and stared at a tiny version of himself with delicate features. She had his hair, dark and thick, but hers was long, well past her shoulders. A pink bow stuck crookedly out of one side of her hair. His own emerald green eyes smiled up at him above a nose that was a smaller, more feminine replica of his. High cheekbones and ears that stuck out just a tad too far completed a physical copy of himself. She grinned into the camera with a laughing, mischievous light in her eyes. Mike’s heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest, and he blinked against the burning in his eyes as the first traces of tears streaked down his face.
The door suddenly opened, making him jump, and a nurse walked in and cheerily said, “Time for vitals, Chief Davis.” Noticing the tears on his face, her visage changed to one of concern. “Are you all right? Are you in pain?” She came to the chair and knelt down.
He turned the photo around to show her and gave a small, tearful laugh. “My daughter. Madelynn.”
Taking the picture, she smiled tentatively and looked down at the photo in her hand. “She looks like you. You must be a proud daddy.”
“Daddy,” he whispered. Damn, but that sounded good. “Yeah,” he cleared a suddenly clogged throat. “Yeah, I’m proud of her. She’s perfect.”
* * * *
“Maddie, honey, pick up your toys and come sit down. Dinner’s ready.”
Tara put exactly three cubes of ice into Madelynn’s pink princess cup and poured in Kool-Aid. Carrying it to the table, she glanced into the living room to make sure Madelynn was on her way. Instead, her daughter was bending the blinds on the living room window, staring at something outside.
“Whatcha looking at, munchkin?” Tara walked over and ruffled her daughter’s hair before glancing outside.
“There’s a man walking up to our house. His car is blue.” With that bit of extraordinary insight, Madelynn bounded off to the table.
“Who in the world could that be?” Tara craned her neck to watch the man ascend the front steps to her tiny porch. He was obviously military since he was wearing a uniform, but she hadn’t had anything to do with anyone in the military since…Well, hell. Michael. It had to have something to do with the letters she’d been getting. Tara growled a little. She’d known it was a bad idea to write him back, and her suspicions were about to be confirmed. Assuming her best no-nonsense face, Tara opened the door.
“Can I help you with something?” she asked, her hands clenched and her voice clipped and hostile.
“Yes, ma’am. Tara Marshall?” He walked up the steps and stopped directly in front of her.
“Yes.”
Holding out a folder, the man said, “I need to go over some paperwork with you. May I come in?”
Looking skeptically at the manila folder in his hand, Tara replied, “I suppose it depends on what the paperwork is.”
“I’d rather discuss it with you inside, if you don’t mind.”
“Odds are I’d rather not discuss it at all, so why don’t you tell me what it’s about before I agree to even hear you out.” Tara crossed her arms over her chest and gave him her best evil eye. She knew she sounded like a complete hag, but damn it all, she should have expected something like this out of that no-good, dirty, rotten son of a bitch! He was going to sue her for custody of Maddie! She’d pack up and leave, start a new life. People did that all the time, right? She could assume a new identity, wait tables at a little café in a tiny town, and cease to exist altogether. It would be the movie of the week on the goddamn Lifetime Channel. Never mind that it was impossible to disappear in the age of technology, she would try everything before she gave him even one second of time with Maddie!
“If you insist.” The man frowned and looked down at his folder. “Chief Michael Davis has named your daughter Madelynn as his beneficiary and you as caretaker until she comes of age. He’s also set up a monthly child support allotment to be deposited directly into your bank account. I need your signature along with Madelynn’s social security number, and a voided check for the allotment.”
She leaned against the doorjamb to keep herself from falling over. The hell you say! “Beneficiary? Child support? What the…I mean, why?”
“Ma’am, the intricate workings of a SEAL’s mind are not my area of expertise. I’m just here to get some information and get you set up,” he replied, deadpan.
“Sure, I guess. Come on in.” She wasn’t one, after all, to turn down money when it was actually owed to her. Charity was one thing, but he should actually be paying child support, so what was the
harm?
The man held out his hand, and as Tara shook it, he introduced himself. “I’m Ensign Pearson from the base finance office.” He stepped inside and waited for her to indicate where he should sit. Tara closed the door and gestured to the couch before she sat down beside him and waited for him to open the folder.
“Chief Davis previously named several different friends and charities as beneficiary in the event of his death. However, he has decided to change that in light of the fact that he has a living relative. A daughter.” Ensign Pearson pulled out a stack of forms and laid them on the coffee table with a pen. “I just need you to fill in Madelynn’s middle name, social security number, and then sign here at the bottom as guardian.” He pointed to several different x marks on the pages and said, “Initial wherever you see an x and sign here.” He pointed to another space on the last page.
Taking the pen, Tara filled in the information and signed where he indicated. When she was done, he tucked the paperwork back into the folder.
“This is your copy of the intent to pay child support he had us write up. No need to sign, that’s all on his end. If you can void a check for me, we can go ahead and get your deposits started. It will be twice a month in the amount of $500 each pay period for a total of $1,000 a month. This will—”
“Whoa. A thousand bucks a month?” Tara interrupted. “No judge in the world would order that for just one child. No way.”
“That’s the thing about voluntary child support when the payer is not listed on the birth certificate and hasn’t been ordered by a court to pay. They can give what they want, and that’s what he’s decided upon.” Ensign Pearson looked down and chuckled softly. “He wanted me to tell you to get anything Madelynn wants. Anything at all. And that he was sorry.”
September 29
Michael,
Thank you.
Tara
Chapter 4
October 9
Tara,
You’re welcome. Although, I would really like some news on how Madelynn is. What does she like to play? What’s her favorite color? Does she even know I exist?
Mike
October 16
Michael,
She’s good. Candyland. Purple. No.
Tara
October 21
Tara,
Would it kill you to write a real letter? Maybe it would. Maybe you have some kind of terminal disease that restricts you from writing more than twenty consecutive words, and a long letter would land you in a funeral home with a toe tag. Is that it?
Mike
Damn him for his uncanny ability to make her laugh. The three months they’d known each other, she’d laughed more than she had in the six years since. He tickled her funny bone. That wasn’t all he tickled. Tara shook her head quickly. Those thoughts led down a dangerous path she wasn’t going to travel again. This correspondence had to end before he weaseled his way back into her good graces.
October 30
Michael,
Yes, that’s it. I can’t write you anymore.
Tara
November 6
Tara,
Since you can’t write, I’ve sent a package to you. Let me know when you get it.
Mike
The package arrived two days after the letter. Bewildered, Tara signed the delivery slip, carried it into the dining room, and set it on the table to open. Using a kitchen knife, she carefully cut the tape and pulled out a brand new laptop with a purple skin. Glancing in the bottom of the box, she saw a webcam box was included, along with a note:
“You won’t have to risk your life by writing me. I’d like to talk to her.”
Mike
Underneath, he’d included his webcam information so they could chat.
Oh no. No, no, no. This was a dangerous endeavor. She couldn’t introduce her daughter to Michael via webcam. She’d given up on not letting him meet Maddie. After all he’d done, he at least deserved a chance to have a relationship with Madelynn. Just Madelynn.
There’s no reason you can’t talk to him. Tara blinked. Where had that come from? She was going to have to find a way to shut down her subconscious thoughts before they really ran amok. But seriously, did he really not think she had a computer?
“Mom!” Tara spun around, her hair flying around her face and her eyes wide.
“What is it, honey?”
“Grandma’s here. She said what time do I have to be home Sunday?” Madelynn was headed to her monthly weekend at her grandma’s house. Tara used the weekend to spend time alone and have the occasional date. Usually with her girlfriends. Since she taught pre-school, she had all the same holidays off as Maddie, so an occasional weekend away felt good to them both. Besides, Maddie loved going to her grandma’s. She got all the ice cream she could eat.
“Tara?” Melinda Marshall called out from the living room. She was a stout woman and had never been called skinny in her life. Tara had inherited the “thick gene” as her mother called it. Not fat, but thick. No Marshall woman had ever known the feeling of not having her thighs touch. Melinda sauntered into the dining room, smiling brightly. “Oh, there you are. When should I bring her home?”
Tara had never failed to notice that even at fifty-nine her mother was a very attractive woman. She may have been stout, but she’d never be called overweight. She had light brown hair—with the help of frequent trips to the beauty shop—and had aged well. Few wrinkles graced her round face, and arthritis had yet to give her the stoop that so many others her age were beginning to show signs of.
“Just bring her home after church Sunday.” Tara leaned down and kissed her daughter. “Be good for Grandma.”
Madelynn kissed her mother’s cheek and said “Okay, Mommy, I’ll be good.” She turned and ran to get her backpack.
“What’s in the box?” Melinda asked, walking over to the table to see for herself.
“Michael sent a laptop so he can video chat with Maddie.” Tara had already told her mother about Michael’s generosity in naming Madelynn as his beneficiary on his life insurance policy and paying child support. Melinda’s response had been tentative, at best. However, she’d always tried to convince Tara to legally pursue child support and had been impressed that Michael finally stepped up.
“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Melinda glanced sharply at Tara, her eyes narrowed.
“No, actually I don’t. But I may do him the courtesy of getting online and telling him so myself instead of writing another letter. I hate communicating with him, but, well…he has been trying to do the right thing.”
“Doesn’t change the past, but it makes for a better future.” Melinda turned and walked toward an impatient Madelynn bouncing by the front door. “Just…be careful. Always be wary of a changed man.”
Looking vacantly at the purple laptop, Tara murmured “I will,” as her mother gently closed the front door. Tara stood at the kitchen window and watched them pull away. After her mother’s car left the driveway, she turned slowly and looked at the computer as if afraid it would bite her.
He doesn’t have anybody else. You could talk to him. You know he’ll be waiting.
Those were dangerous thoughts and an unbelievable temptation, considering how he’d treated her when she’d told him she was pregnant. With that in mind, she stalked out of the kitchen, deciding to run a bath and soak.
Tara started a hot bath, put her clothes in the hamper, and slipped on her robe. She walked back to the kitchen, pulled out a bottle of cheap blackberry merlot, and poured herself a generous glass. She replaced the wine in the refrigerator and then thought twice and took it with her. Tara grabbed her iPod as she passed through the living room and set it on shuffle. She turned the volume up, set her wine on the side of the tub, and sank into the steaming water.
Dreamy, relaxed, she let herself sink into memories, as she did far too often when she was alone. Mike had been tall and handsome. He’d made Tara laugh and had been nothing but a wonderful gentleman and a generous lover. Unles
s his friends were close-by. Then he’d turned into a first-class douchebag.
Tara’s face heated with the memory of his rejection. It was humiliating and painful. And sometimes Maddie looked so much like him that the remembered pain came rushing back. Those beautiful green eyes and mischievous smile had won her heart and then shattered it. Tara had hoped Madelynn would resemble her. But when the nurse had handed her the little bundle of squalling baby, Tara had seen nothing but Michael. And each day Maddie looked a little more like him.
Tara leaned over the side of the tub and grabbed the wine bottle. She refilled her glass and leaned back, ashamed and embarrassed at the memory of how easily she’d been duped into falling in love with him. She pressed the cool glass against her forehead and concentrated on ejecting the recollections. Those memories were best left buried. She turned her mind, instead, to the Christmas program her preschoolers were preparing.
* * * *
Would she be there? Mike waited with his laptop sitting on his bed table, holding his breath occasionally and running his hands through his hair. He needed a haircut. He needed a break. He needed a friend. He needed to get laid.
Mike scoffed. Like that was going to happen. The only woman he was interested in was the mother of his child, and there was very little chance of a romance there. If she was even still single, she’d probably never have anything to do with him again. Mike was resigned to forming a friendship with her for Madelynn. His daughter. It felt good to acknowledge that he had a daughter. Better than that, it felt good to know he was going to meet her and possibly make up for the mistakes in his past.
Mike couldn’t really count the entire time with Tara as a mistake since Madelynn was the result. But he’d been unimaginably cruel to a woman he’d been head-over-heels in love with. And for what? To impress a bunch of guys he thought were his friends. He’d been new to the SEALs then, and hadn’t chosen his friends as wisely as he should have. Tara hadn’t been conventionally attractive to the degenerates he partied with, and he’d been ashamed that his girlfriend wasn’t model-thin, model-pretty. Tara was a real woman, with curves and spunk and attitude. He smiled at the memory. Even at what was probably the worst moment in her life, she took no crap from anyone. Even him.
This Time Page 3