A Soldier's Secret

by Linda Style

  Cole laughed. “Fat chance. We’re five for five. Anyone want to go again?”

  Ed nodded at the large antique clock on the wall, which was surrounded by old sepia photos taken of patrons over the years. “I’ve got to close up in a few, but I’m sure there’s someone around who’ll take my place.” He indicated the adjoining room, where a couple of the town drunks were draped over the old hand-carved mahogany bar that ran almost the entire length of the wall.

  “Can’t,” Mac said. “I’ve got to take care of something.”

  “Yeah. Me, too,” Cole declared, a lusty grin emerging. “Serena’s been waiting for me for an hour and a half already.”

  Mac turned. That meant Natalia had been finished for an hour and a half. “How do you know that?”

  Cole looked at him sideways. “What? She texted me.”

  “Oh.” Mac clenched his teeth. “You should’ve said something. We could’ve quit an hour ago.”

  “No big deal. She’s cool with it.” He grinned from ear to ear and shook his head. “I’ll never understand how the hell I got lucky enough to get a second chance with her, but I’m sure not going to do anything to screw it up this time.”

  Cole hung his cue in the rack and started for the door.

  Mac waited a few moments, then headed for the door himself. Dammit. How stupid was he? He’d known Natalia would balk at the marriage idea and that he’d have to convince her, but he’d never thought she’d actually refuse to help him. He snatched his keys from the bin at the front door.

  Relinquishing keys was a requirement if you wanted to drink at the Blue Moon. If Ed saw you’d had too much, you wouldn’t be driving home.

  Rarely did Mac drink too much, but tonight it wouldn’t matter if he had. He was going to talk to Natalia even if he had to walk to her house.

  NATALIA WAVED GOODBYE to Sheriff Masterson, and as she turned to go inside her place, she saw the headlights of another car. As it came closer, and she saw it was a pickup truck, a knot formed in the middle of her chest.

  Mac was out of the vehicle almost before it stopped. He stalked toward her, his body rigid with purpose.

  “Sorry I didn’t make it to—”

  “Sorry doesn’t cut it, Natalia. I get that you don’t want to talk to me, but the least you could’ve done was give me the courtesy of a damned phone call to say you weren’t coming.”

  She drew back. “I did call.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “I called more than once. Check your phone. You either had it on Mute or shut off. All I got was that dumb message from some cartoon character to ‘do my thing.’”

  “Homer Simpson.” He pulled out his cell.

  “Whoever. My point is that I called and you didn’t answer.”

  Mac flipped open his phone and pressed a button. His mouth crooked in a contrite manner, but the moment lasted only until he closed the cell and took a breath. “Cole said you’d finished dinner hours ago. If you couldn’t get me, you should’ve stopped by. It’s not like you’d have to drive to Phoenix.”

  She looked down, waited briefly, then said, “You finished?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Okay.” She waited again.

  He opened his mouth but nothing came out. “Okay, I guess I am.”

  “Good. Did you see the sheriff leaving? He drove me home because I had a blowout and went into the ditch. I called you first, but you didn’t answer.”

  The next thing she knew he was holding her at arm’s length, examining her up and down. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She wiggled from his grasp and turned to go inside.

  “I’m sorry. I wish I’d known. You should’ve called the bar, or one of the other guys. I could ha—” He gave her a sheepish look. “I mean, is there something I can do now? Fix the tire?”

  “No. And will you chill a little? The fender and hood were pushed in, so I couldn’t drive it. Karl called for a tow and Hal is going to fix it and give me a ding when it’s ready.”

  “Any idea how long that will take?”

  “No, and standing out here talking about it isn’t going to help, either.” She turned and walked to the door, unlocked it and switched on the entry light. Mac followed her inside.

  “There’s beer in the fridge. I’ll be back in a minute.” She headed for the bathroom.

  “You want me to open one for you, too?”

  “Sure.” She had a feeling she was going to need a lot more than one beer before the night was over. She’d never seen Mac so intense. So determined.

  When finished in the bathroom, she went into the bedroom and kicked off her shoes. Though the apartment was only nine hundred or so square feet, it was plenty big enough for one person without a lot of “stuff.” She was hardly ever there, so she didn’t need a big place or fancy furnishings. She never did understand why Tori had purchased such a large house. All a big home was good for was collecting reminders of the past.

  “You okay?” Mac asked from the other side of the closed door.

  She took a breath. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Sorry.”

  He didn’t say any more, but she knew he was pacing. He always paced when impatient. Mac didn’t like to wait for anything, and she knew the minute she appeared, he’d want an answer. She slipped on a pair of flip-flops, and as she emerged from the bedroom he shoved a beer into her hand, then led her to the black leather couch, directed her to sit, and plopped down next to her.

  “Well? What’s the verdict?”

  Natalia held up a hand in a time-out gesture. “I haven’t had a minute to think, Mac.” It wasn’t as if he was asking her for some small favor. It wasn’t like picking up a loaf of bread, or letting him use her car while his was in the shop…or bringing him chicken soup from The Bean when he was sick. She’d do any of those things for him in a heartbeat. Good God, Mac had saved her life. He’d been one of her field crew in that village, searching for the missing men. He’d been in the same building as Natalia during the last bomb blast, and when they were ordered to pull out, he’d refused to leave without the whole team. He’d found her under a pile of concrete and dug her out of the rubble with his bare hands.

  And if it weren’t for his constant support and encouragement while she was recovering from her injuries, she might still be lying in a hospital bed, unable to function.

  Still, this was a major decision. Even though it was temporary, her whole life would change. She’d have to lie to people, pretend to be someone she wasn’t. How could she do that?

  Facing him, she said, “I’m still not clear on this, Mac. How can being single keep you from getting custody of your own child?”

  “It’s complicated. Now the boy’s great-aunt has decided she wants custody. Apparently, in some cultures an old woman in the same country is preferable to a bachelor in a foreign one. I don’t even know all the bureaucratic stuff involved, except that if there’s any way to make things move more smoothly, I’m going to do it.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

  His anxiety was almost palpable. Mac would never abdicate anything he perceived to be his responsibility. That’s who he was, and she truly admired that about him.

  But there were times when he went overboard, taking on more than necessary. He needed to loosen up. She pulled her legs beneath her and leaned on the arm of the couch.

  “So, even though you’re his biological father, someone else could be his guardian?”

  Mac let out a long breath. “It happens. Since learning about my son, I’ve done a lot of research, and it is truly scary how little biology matters in some countries. Especially when part of that biology involves an American. In addition to that, there are a ton of regulations and requirements regarding citizenship for children claiming to be offspring of military personnel. Apparently, laws were put in place in the fifties, after the Korean War, to prevent an onslaught of people claiming to be children of vets stationed in their country, in order to get citizenship. After
Vietnam, it got even worse. The number of agencies involved is incredible. There are even background checks with Homeland Security.

  “I watched a news special on a number of military dads who, even though they’ve followed all the protocol, haven’t been able to gain custody of their kids overseas. I need to do everything I can to stack the deck. It doesn’t matter how difficult it is or how long it takes, I’m going to gain custody of D.J.”

  “D.J.?”

  “I started thinking of him as that, since it’s on some of the papers when I first learned about him. His first name is David, his middle one Josef.”

  Mac leaned forward and pressed his hands on hers. “I need your help, Natalia. Please help me get custody of my son.”

  The quaver in his voice caught her off guard. She’d never seen the happy-go-lucky, never-a-care-in-the-world David MacAllister so serious before, and in that moment she felt petty and small.

  This wasn’t about her being inconvenienced or having to pretend to be married. It was about Mac’s son—a little boy he’d never seen. A child who lived in an orphanage somewhere on the other side of the world, and who probably hadn’t felt loved since his grandmother died.

  No child should have to long for a hug, or wonder why he was all alone, wonder why no one cared.

  But having parents didn’t guarantee love, either.

  “If everything goes well, I could get custody and then we’d get a quick annulment and that would be that. You could go back to…whatever.”

  She glared at him. “Whatever? How is it going to look if I get married on a whim and a couple of months later, I decide to have it annulled? How responsible would that look?”

  He shrugged. “To who?”

  “Everyone in Spirit Creek.”

  “Everyone here knows you and what you’re like. They know you’re caring and responsible. You wouldn’t be out there saving lives if you weren’t.”

  “Maybe, but this is still a small town, and some people see things in a small town way.”

  He shook his head, looking confused. “You’ve never been concerned about that before. What’s different now?”

  “If the owner of the bank is one of those people, it could affect my getting a loan. The bank has to see me as a good business risk. Being stable and responsible is part of that.”

  He laughed. “If Amelia Gentry knew you and I were getting married, she’d love it. Then she could tell people she was right and all the rumors she’s been spreading were true.”

  Natalia stood, placed her hands on her hips. “Serena and Tori said someone was feeding the sharks, but I thought they were joking.”

  “It doesn’t matter. People talk. They’ll always talk.”

  “Well, it matters to me…and it should matter to you, too.” She took a swig of her beer.

  His expression stone serious, he said, “The only thing that matters to me right now is getting custody of my son, and I need to know if you’re in.”

  “I want to…” She got up, went to the window and adjusted the blinds, then pivoted to face him. “You know I’d do anything for you, but this is…”

  “This is the most important thing in my life.”

  She sighed. “I—I just need more time.”

  “I was twelve when my dad died,” Mac said, as if he hadn’t heard her. “And even though I had my mom and sisters, I felt totally alone. I felt as if everything I had counted on to be there was suddenly snatched away and nothing would ever be the same. I can’t imagine how a five-year-old would feel if everyone he knew suddenly disappeared.” Mac stopped, moistened his lips, then eyed her with steely determination. “I’m not going to let my son think that his father didn’t want him.”

  She pulled her gaze away, her thoughts flashing to her own childhood. People didn’t have to disappear physically for a child to feel abandoned. She cleared her throat. “If I agreed to do this, what would my responsibilities be?”

  He looked at her quizzically. “None…none at all.” Then he grinned. “Unless you like to cook.”

  She couldn’t help cracking a smile. That was the Mac she knew. But he sobered immediately and added, “Besides living with me, the only thing you’d have to do is answer questions and be there if someone comes to interview us. Stuff related to custody.”

  “What about financial matters? Arizona is a community property state. If we were married and you have debts, or a bad credit rating, it could affect me, too.”

  “What?” He launched himself to his feet. “After working with me for three years you think I’m—” He stopped abruptly, shook his head. “Okay. You’re right. I could have a secret gambling habit and be filing for bankruptcy as we speak. Or, hey…I could be a serial killer....” His expression hardened. “Yeah…it was really stupid of me to think you’d just blindly agree to something that—”

  “Dammit, Mac. Stop it. All I said is that I need a little time to think. That isn’t unreasonable, is it?”

  He stalked over to the bookcase near the door, studied it for a moment, then said evenly, “How much time do you think you need?” He took another couple steps, opened the door and turned back to her. “An hour? Two days? A week?”

  “Not long,” she said. “I promise.”

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small envelope. “Here. While you’re thinking, take a look at this.”

  She took the envelope, and before she had a chance to say anything more, he was gone.

  She closed the door and tossed the envelope on the entry table. Mac obviously thought whatever was inside would help her decide.

  But he was wrong. She’d already decided. And the answer was no.

  “I HAVE SOME SAVINGS in your bank, I’ve been in my condo for five years and I’ve worked for the same company that same amount of time.”

  Roger Sustern, the bank manager, leaned forward, his hands clasped in front of him on the oak desktop. “I know, Natalia. If you had a few more assets to list, it would be helpful.”

  “But I don’t. That’s why I’m getting the small business loan. This one is to supplement that one.”

  He sighed as if he was totally bored with the conversation. “All I’m saying is that I can’t give you an answer right this minute. When I get the numbers, I’ll be in touch.”

  “You know the numbers,” she argued, facing him dead-on as she leaned forward on the desk.

  He drew back, as if he wanted to be far away in case she did anything rash, such as jump across the desk to strangle him, which was exactly what she felt like doing. Instead, she smiled and leaned back herself. A giant photo on the wall behind him, of Amelia Gentry wearing her “American Gothic” face, seemed to grow out of the top of his head.

  “Excuse me a minute,” he said, then stood, waited a second, and left the room.

  Waiting at Roger’s desk, Natalia glanced around the bank’s lobby, a living tribute to another era. On the opposite side of the glass from where she sat, two tellers stood behind iron cages, passing money over the heavy oak counter. The floors were covered in small black and white diamond-shaped ceramic tiles, and the carved bronze door on the safe behind them could easily be considered a work of art. She was glad no one had decided to modernize the place.

  The family photo on Roger’s desk made her cringe—Roger in his usual brown suit, with two neatly dressed children at his side, his Stepford wife behind them and the obligatory dog at their feet. Natalia would bet money his home life was just as controlled as his business life appeared to be. They probably made love with their clothes on.

  Waiting, she was reminded that it had taken forever to get approval on her condo loan five years earlier. It wasn’t bank policy to loan money to strangers in town, she’d been told. Well, she wasn’t a stranger in Spirit Creek anymore. She’d been here eight years. This was her home, where she intended to stay, and owning a business ought to be proof of that.

  Roger returned, and as soon as he sat, she said, “I’m not asking for anything unusual. All I’m requesting is
a small loan to supplement the one I’ll be getting from the Small Business Administration.”

  “We will need verification of that loan, as well.”

  “I gave you copies of the application.”

  “I mean the loan approval. When will you receive it?”

  Like everything else, the small business loan approval was subject to the number of bodies on hand, and the time quoted wasn’t always accurate. “I don’t know exactly. They said I should hear something in six weeks, and it’s nearly that right now.”

  “Times are tough, Natalia. I hope you won’t be too disappointed if it doesn’t come through.”

  She had a sudden, urgent desire to smack him, but she ground out a smile instead. “I’m not worried about it.”

  “Well, if it were me, I’d do everything in my power to make sure all my ducks were in a row.”

  Her mouth almost fell open at the ridiculousness of the remark. What did he think she’d done, slap things together and decide to buy a business? “Thanks, Roger.” She gritted her teeth. “I appreciate the counseling, but I did all that already. I did that before I ever applied for the loan.”

  He propped his hands in a steeple and gave her a pinched smile. “Are you sure? You know, under certain circumstances, I might be able to extend a fav—”

  “I’m sure,” she blurted, to make certain he didn’t say what she thought he was going to. If Roger was the last person in the world, she wouldn’t consider taking a favor from him under any kind of circumstance.

  Unable to even paste on a faux smile, she stood and reached to shake his hand. “I’ll get you the information you need as soon as I receive it, and I’d appreciate it if you can let me know as soon as possible if there’s anything else you need.”

  His face reddened as he refused to shake her hand.

  Had she just screwed herself? Suddenly Natalia felt as if the walls were closing in around her. She hated business stuff, and yet she wanted to buy a business. How ironic was that? And she’d eat worms for breakfast every day if it was the only way to ensure her future. Buying the Mountain Air search and rescue operation would do exactly that.