Ever since, Brody never ignored the periphery. The corners. The hidden nooks and crannies because that’s usually where surprises came from.
What he’d just learned was one hell of a fucking surprise. One he hadn’t thought was any sort of a realistic possibility.
He could sense Heather’s turmoil when she grabbed onto him for dear life. Concern for her well-being spiked inside him. Separating the unexpected wrinkle in their circumstance from her reaction wasn’t easy but he’d been around enough PTSD situations, including more than a few of his own, to know that’s what she needed. First things first.
“Feel like talking?
Not exactly eloquent but it was all he had.
“Can we sit by the fireplace? Something external to focus on might be a good idea.”
Fireplace switched on and a teapot steeping with chamomile on the coffee table, they sat side-by-side, their legs touching. For him, the contact was reassuring. And necessary.
A nearly unnoticeable tremor shook her body. He reached for a soft throw blanket and pulled it around her shoulders. A jumble of questions bounced around in his head. He was deciding which one to lead with when she started speaking.
“I feel torn in two.” Her voice was unsteady. Huddling in the blanket, she hunched slightly. Everything about her demeanor shouted at him to proceed with caution.
“None of what my mom said feels familiar.”
She gazed at him, her eyes sad and uncertain. “You know me. I’m a detail person. Shit, I’ve got a list of my lists. Tell me how I’m supposed to wrap my mind around this. Is it like, oh I don’t know,” she bit out, “hysterical selective memory?”
Answers were in short supply and he knew from experience that while revisiting the past is part of the process, there would never be real closure. They could spend the next year picking apart that awful time but all they’d accomplish is jacking Heather’s emotions even higher without any assurance of peace down the road. His best move was to gently lead her away from what was sure to end up as guilt and refocus on the present. And the future.
Choosing his words carefully, he poured steaming tea into a small mug, and added her favorite sweetener. “Let’s start where we are, honey, and then go from there. Okay? Maybe what we should do is discuss this with a doctor. After all, all we have right now is a conversation from several years ago. How does that sound, hmm?”
She toyed with the handle of the mug for a moment and then took several small sips. He was so attuned to her that he was sure the sound of thoughts racing around in her mind was audible.
The mug rattling on the table when her hand dropped caught his attention. He had to quickly reach out and guide her shaking fingers before the tea ended up on the carpet.
“Oh my god.”
Heather’s voice was barely a whisper and her eyes were huge.
“What?” He knew without a doubt what he heard in his voice was the sound of apprehension.
Clutching the blanket around her shoulders, she showed all the signs of a mighty struggle waging inside.
“B-before we left Maryland, I uh, saw my doctor. Had to make arrangements for my records to be forwarded once we got settled here. Anyway, that was a stressful time with the move and everything and you know my period was playing games.”
Yeah, he remembered. She tried every trick in the book not to show it but she’d been a right royal nervous mess before the move. He’d asked for a hell of a lot. Leave a job. Move across the country to a place she’d never been and take on full-time parenting of a surprise kid.
All that translated into Heather barely eating or sleeping. It came as no surprise when the stress affected her physically. He remembered the bitching about her cycle going wonky and listened to her kvetch about what good was it to take the pill if it didn’t goddamn regulate things.
“It’s not like I thought about the pill as anything more than a regulator. Birth control wasn’t my issue.”
Any conversation involving the pill, a missed period and the words birth control was guaranteed to get a guy’s blood pumping. Cold sweat broke out on his neck.
“What are you saying?”
All the color left her face. Even her lips went pale. In a barely there whisper she answered slowly. “I think…we just…it seemed,” she anxiously stammered, making no sense whatsoever. “So simple. Decided to try a lower dose pill.”
The look she gave let him know there was more. Probably a lot more.
“So, um…in those final weeks I wasn’t taking anything at all. Trying to let my system reset.”
“Heather…” he mumbled. “When was the last time you had your period?”
Her eyes darted around the room. She bit her lip. “Right after Labor Day I had the suggestion of a period. And then a few weeks later, the same thing.”
What the hell did that mean? “I’m sorry. What?”
“We need to see a doctor immediately.”
She started to shake. So did he. Was this some kind of joke because if it was, he wasn’t laughing. And neither was she.
“Comfy?” Alex asked as she crawled between his outstretched legs and rested with her back on his chest. What wasn’t comfy about the yummy pose?
“Totally,” she assured him. He caressed her stomach and then kissed the side of her head.
“Okay then, let’s do this.” He picked up a thin book off the bed next to him and brought it round in front of her. Relaxing against him, Meghan crossed her ankles and put her hands low on her tummy.
She almost flipped around and flattened him to the bed, a hormonal response to the adorable way he cleared his throat, as he got ready to read the twins a bedtime story.
“Hey guys. It’s Dad again. I have this cool story to read to you,” he said as the Little Golden Book waved in front of her belly. “One of my favorites called The Sword in the Stone. Check out the cover,” he chuckled.
“Now this is what we call a Disney story.” He tapped a beefy finger next to the distinctive name. “You’re going to love Disney!”
Meghan thought her heart might burst. There was something about this big, powerful man gushing like a kid over all things Disney to their unborn children that made everything feel right.
Hold on. If everything felt right why was he suddenly quiet?
She twisted and swung her head up and around to peer at his face. He was wearing a pensive frown. A slow smile spread across her face. This was her absent-minded professor husband—a side of him that made her panties wet.
Who was she kidding? All his sides had the ability to destroy her lingerie.
When he started up again, she flat out marveled at the way his mind worked. Whenever he did something sweet or unbelievable she always thought she couldn’t love him more. And then he surprised her yet again showing her a more complex and nuanced side to his personality. He was going to be a wonderful father.
“So listen, kids,” he began on a gently serious note. “A lot of books, movies and stories pick a boy or a girl as the star. Like this story. See the little boy in the picture? Well, it could just as easily be a little girl. They had to choose one and this time it was a boy.”
A blissful grin marked her face. This was Don Alexander Valleja-Marquez, after all. Teaching equality and a strong sense of feminism began in the womb.
And then he went off on a nerd rant that she wished had been recorded for posterity because it was one hell of a Big Daddy doozy!
“When mommies and daddies have a baby on the way, they don’t always know if it’s a boy or a girl or in your case, maybe two of each. We just love them with everything we’ve got. It doesn’t matter. And when moms and dads have dreams and wishes for their babies, they aren’t determined by boy stuff or girl stuff. It’s baby stuff. Does that make sense?”
It went on from there with a fascinating freestyle rant about boys and girls and moms and dads and families and communities and countries and the world and eventually the whole universe. In other words, classic Alex.
H
e kept talking until satisfied he’d made whatever point he was trying to make and then went back to story time starting with the inside cover book plate where he’d scribbled Babies Marquez.
She giggled when his nerd brain explained what all the stuff on the title page meant.
He read the familiar classic story with enthusiasm, using different voices and adding sounds. She had to admit it was engrossing and quite entertaining. Bedtime stories wiggled into the top ten of her favorite things to do.
When he came to the last page and the big reveal that the little boy who drew the sword from the stone was King Arthur, he closed the storybook and told the babies to remember that name because they’d be learning a lot about Arthur and his mentor Merlin and a magic place called Camelot where they lived.
“I can’t believe you found these little books. I remember loving them as a kid.”
“Amazon,” he told her with a wry chuckle. “Ordered a whole bunch.”
Turning she lay on her side, draped one arm around his neck and stroked the hair on his chest with the other.
“We need a bookcase in the nursery.”
His laugh and warm hug were just what she needed at the end of a long, tiring day.
“Talk to Drae. Didn’t you see what he made for Bella? It looks like a double-sided library cart on wheels. Three slanted rows to display books and two big sections on the bottom for a ton of books. Very cool.”
Of course. If you could imagine it, Draegyn St. John could build it. And if he couldn’t then Calder would whip up a model on his fancy 3-D printer.
“It was nice to see Brody so happy. He’s a great dad. Bella is a phenomenal kid.”
“Heather’s mom and dad are awesome. I invited them to the Justice Family Picnic next summer.”
Next summer. A shiver of excitement rippled along her spine. The twins would be here by then.
So would Cristián and Ashleigh. Be here, she meant. The stunning announcement from her dad that Alex’s parents were headed to Boston in December before finalizing their long distance move had shaken her and Alex up.
They hardly spoke about it at all because with everything else going on it wasn’t getting much attention but neither of them were ignoring the huge changes inevitable once her in-laws were permanently back on U.S. soil. She worried that her husband was struggling with what it all meant more than he let on.
She sighed heavily and her mind went someplace else. “What’s going on with your sister and Parker? They were putting off a strange vibe.”
Alex couldn’t be bothered to play word games. She liked that about him very much. Most of the time when she asked a direct question he easily supplied a direct answer. It was refreshing.
“He’s a mess. I’m worried. She went too far.”
Uh oh. “What did she do?”
“That’s kind of the whole enchilada right there, babe. She hasn’t done anything.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh,” he murmured somewhat caustically. “I don’t fucking understand her. Doesn’t she realize what all this foot dragging does to a guy like Parker? Don’t snicker, okay?
She eagerly agreed. “Snicker free zone, baby. Say whatever is on your mind.”
“She’s making him look bad.”
Oh good lord. She got it instantly and would never make fun of what’s a touchy subject for many men. And knowing where Parker’s um, relationship ways came from, she cringed at the meaning in Alex’s words. Angie was being a fool.
Rearranging on his chest, she moved higher until they were talking face to face. “I might be out of line with this question but it begs to be asked.”
She actually waited for his agreeing head nod before speaking. “Is your sister taking the whole topping thing way too far?”
“Yes.” His instantaneous and direct response said a lot. “Frankly, it shows how much he loves her that she’s gotten away with it this long.”
“I’ll talk to her. She’s working non-stop on next week’s opening so there will be plenty of opportunities for me to have a chat.”
Alex increased the pressure of his embrace. “Ordinarily I’d prefer we both stay out of it but with my folks about to descend, well fuck. Once they can actively tag team with Parker’s parents, the heat will get turned up. Wouldn’t be a bad idea to try and nudge those two along.”
“Hey,” she purred. “Know what would be an even better idea? How about you let me see pictures of the family center? It’s not fair that a whole big complex is gonna have my name on it but I’ve never seen the design”
Wiggling outrageously she whined, “Pleaaaase.”
“You’ve seen the logo. That’s enough. I want you to be blown the fuck away when you get your first glimpse of all the good you’re doing for the families and veterans around Bendover.”
“I like the logo,” she admitted. “Thank you for my business cards, by the way. Executive Chair. Nice title.”
He scoffed. “Yeah, well they wouldn’t let me put Irish Fuck Goddess under your name so executive chair better float your boat. Did you respond to Parker’s email about the inaugural board meeting? He’s got something scheduled for Thursday. Has to be held before the grand opening.”
Completely changing the subject when she remembered something, Meghan went off about Thanksgiving and reminded her absent minded hubs that the St. Johns decided turkey day would be their official anniversary and that he had to find a present for Drae.
Time was flying. September saw Stephanie and Dylan’s birthdays. Halloween was a Facebook memory. Sweet Bella’s birthday had come and gone and now the grand opening of the outreach center was just days away. After that it was Thanksgiving and then as if all of that wasn’t quite enough, sometime before Christmas her in-laws would be back in Arizona.
Things were getting interesting, that was for sure.
30
The sound of thunder rolling across the desert floor fascinated her. She was an idiot for taking off in her Ranger when the approaching storm got close enough to pick up the faint rumbling in the distance but hey, what was she supposed to do? Sometimes the artist trapped inside Remy needed indulging.
So she grabbed her 35mm camera, a sturdy tripod and headed out. The urge to catch lightening strikes—an image she wanted for her idea board—contributed to her lack of planning and disregard for her safety.
Oh well. Definitely not the first and hardly the last time her personal safety meant squat. Flying helicopters in the war wasn’t exactly the equivalent of playing it safe.
Still though, she had a responsibility to others if only for the fact that it’d be the height of selfishness to take unnecessary chances. Reaching on the passenger seat for her phone, she quickly checked to be sure her location was pinging. That way if god forbid something happened, at least her location would be traceable.
Dark clouds to her left showed Remy where she needed to go. Driving straight into the danger zone she kept an eye on the clouds, gauging how fast they were moving—information that would make it easier to know when to venture no further.
She came upon a rolling hill jutting from the desert floor with a cluster of green trees along one edge. She knew this area having come here before to paint the scenery. Where the other end of the hill curved to the ground there’d be an outcropping of rocks along a wide ledge above a steep rocky drop. Beyond, from a certain angle, the desert appeared to go on forever. It was the perfect spot to set up the tripod. Pictures of the storm from that angle would be dramatic.
Off in the distance she saw flashes of light in the dark clouds and sensed electricity building in the air. In a lot of ways it reminded her of the sometimes-violent lightning storms and sudden downpours during Iraq’s rainy season.
As a pilot, she’d flown through it all. Torrential rains, dust storms so thick you couldn’t see five feet in front of you, and heat so viscous it made her bones hot. She pushed the thoughts away. She hadn’t come out into the desert for a stumble down memory lane.
Finding the
perfect spot, she stopped and hurriedly set up the tripod. Thunder was rumbling in the distance and getting closer. An electrical charge gathered strength all around her. It was in the air and beneath her feet in the hard packed desert earth.
Taking her time, she dialed back some of the excitement and focused on the task at hand. After a dozen shots she knew there were some great ones and swung the angle of the camera slightly for better background.
A bolt of lightning zapped nearby, making Remy jump with alarm.
“Well that was a bit too close for comfort,” she muttered aloud.
The storm was picking up speed and had shifted direction—coming straight at her. Scrambling to gather her equipment she lost track of her footing at the same second a booming thunderclap shook the earth. Her boots slid across a mound of stones. She wobbled and tried to correct but it was already too late. When she tried to gain traction with her other foot all she ended up doing was make things worse.
Another boom, this one close enough that the hair on her arms stood up, scared the living daylights out of her. Startled, she flinched and skidded awkwardly on the loose gravel. Next thing she knew, her feet slid over the ledge and she tumbled, landing with a scary thud twenty feet below on the narrow rock ledge. That’s when the world got fuzzy.
Pain shot into her shoulder and water dripped down her face. She was pretty thoroughly drenched, a sure sign that she’d been banged up enough to lose consciousness. She had no idea how long she’d been knocked out.
Struggling to sit up, she winced through the pain and carefully dragged herself against the ledge wall. Cradling her injured arm, she wiped rain off her face and looked around to get her bearings.
Didn’t take long to realize she was well and truly fucked.
With an injured arm and nothing to help her climb, she was stuck until someone figured out she was missing. Thank god she’d turned on her phone’s location finder and not only that, the vehicle she drove had the security tracker. Hopefully it wouldn’t take long for a rescue party to find her.
Unforgettable (Family Justice Book 5) Page 37