by Geri Krotow
He remained silent. He’d missed so much. When was it too much? When did it cross the line of being an anomaly that other families had experienced—a parent gone for an extended period due to military operations or a medical situation—into irreparable damage?
“It’s okay, Rob. I’m sad for you that you’ve missed the first several years, but look at it this way.” She held up her hand as if she were presenting him with a precious gem or solid gold gift. “There are still thirteen years until he’s eighteen. You haven’t even missed a third of his upbringing. My mother always says that boys need their mothers early on and their fathers more as they turn into teenagers. I’d say that’s right, because while Jake loves his uncle Nolan, he’s a momma’s boy all the way. He calls me his best friend. You know that’s going to change by the time he’s twelve!”
“We’ll see how it goes, then. If at any time you’re uncomfortable or think it’s going too fast for him, you have to tell me. I’m new at this parenting thing.” Normally it pained him to admit he needed help or was short on any type of training. Because frankly he rarely needed assistance with anything on a day-to-day basis. Being around Trina again had opened up something in his heart, the part that reminded him he was human. And needy. He rubbed his chest, wondering if the ache he felt every time he thought of his son was every going to be appeased.
If it was anything like his desire for Trina, he knew the answer.
* * *
They pulled into her paved driveway and parked in the large area in front of the triple garage. She had one car and used the other two vehicle bays for the gardening and livestock equipment she was collecting.
“Nice place. How long have you been here?”
“Less than a month. I wanted to get Jake settled long before school started. I hate to say it, but that was a mistake—he doesn’t know anyone around here yet, and there aren’t any school functions until the last week in August.”
“You did say he went to a different preschool.” Rob asked the kind of questions that showed he was interested in Jake’s education, but she saw how his eyes reflected exhaustion. She’d bet it wasn’t from the last two days, either. Rob was stressed. The former SEAL who was invincible expected to be slain by an almost-six-year-old.
Once they were out of the Jeep and standing in front of the house, she squeezed his forearm for a brief moment. “It’s okay, Rob. You’re saying hi to a little boy who’s tired from spending all day at a kids’ camp. He’ll be excited to see me, but don’t expect a lot. He hates it when his grandmother has to leave. And this puppy is going to knock his socks off.”
“Got it.”
She dropped her arm and nodded at the front door. “Let’s go. I usually go in through the garage, but without my car and my garage door opener, we’ll go in this way.”
He walked with her up the concrete steps and across the worn wooden porch to the front door. A matching pair of door lights were on, and insects flickered all about, despite the bulbs being yellow. Trina waved her hand in front of her face, shooing away the flying insects. “Damned stinkbugs. They’re the ones that look like primitive tanks. Don’t squish them or it’ll smell to high heaven out here and in the house, too.”
He didn’t reply, and she wondered if he thought she was nuts, buying such a beat-up old house. Once the door opened and the living room light poured out into the night, she noticed that his eyes scoured the room in front of him for any sign of his child.
His son.
The room was empty, and Trina saw the kitchen light down the dim hallway that connected the front and back of the house, a classic hardwood-and-white-painted staircase in the center to the right. “Hey, I’m home!”
An excited shout followed by the certain stamp of little feet on the linoleum kitchen floor made her heart catch midbeat. She looked at Rob. And tried not to laugh at how frightened he appeared.
* * *
“Relax, Rob, it’s a five-year-old boy, not a python.”
“Right.” He stood rooted to the spot, unable to take deep breaths, and it had nothing to do with his cracked ribs. He narrowed his gaze on the light at the end of the hall, waiting, waiting. His breath hitched higher as a short figure ran around the corner and barreled toward them. Pounding feet that sounded light on the hardwood, then Trina’s admonition to “slow down, buddy!” A brief glimpse of cropped hair that was definitely more blond than brown. A flash of eyes as deeply hued as Trina’s. And the same exact shape.
“Mommy!” Jake launched himself at Trina. Trina was ahead of him, on her knees and scooping the small but sturdy boy up into her arms and hugging him to her.
“Hi, sweetie pie. Oh, I’ve missed you!”
“Me, too, Momma. Uncle Nolan said you had ’portent busyness to do and that you’d be back. Guess what? We did art today and I made a pottery for you. It’s going to be painted but it has to cook in the kiln first. A kiln is a, a high-temp’shure oven for ceramics. Hey, what’s this? Oh man, Mommy, did you get a puppy? We have enough to take care of.” God, he never took a breath. Not unlike his mother.
“Here, sit on the floor and I’ll put Renegade in your lap.”
Jake complied with comic swiftness, and his peals of laughter hit Rob in his heart. “Mommy, he’s licking me!”
Jake’s exuberant tone of voice had magical healing powers. As Rob watched him and listened to him, he swore he felt the ache in the center of his chest lessen. Instead of regret, which he knew could probably return, he felt a warm rush of joy filling all of the cracks that had addled his heart.
“That’s how puppies kiss, silly.”
“He needs to know who the boss is.” Jake’s stern voice was a perfect imitation of Trina’s.
Rob looked at Trina’s expression for a clue as to how to respond. He wanted to laugh but didn’t want to be that kind of friend who encouraged bad behavior.
Friend—he wasn’t a friend. He was Jake’s father.
“Hey, sweetie pie, I’ve got a friend for you to meet. Put Renegade down and let him check out the house.” She lifted the boy up as easily as if he was a bag of flour. “Jake, this is Rob.”
“Hey.” Jake looked at him from the safety of his mother’s arms, his little face even with her shoulders.
“How do you do?” God, was that all he could think of to say? This kid probably never heard anyone talk like that, except maybe his grandparents.
Jake held out his small hand, reaching across from his mother’s hug to where Rob stood, feeling like a thistle among orchids. “Nice to meetcha, Mr. Rob.”
Rob accepted his son’s hand in his, and the lightning bolt of warmth that streaked up his arm went straight to his heart. This was his son, his child. He blinked, clearing his eyes, as he’d accept not an iota of blurriness during this first meeting.
“Same here.” He allowed Jake to hang on to his hand as long as the little guy wanted. If it were up to Rob he’d gather the boy to him, hug him, tell him how very, very sorry he was for missing so much. He’d never had hugs like that. Wait—did he want to hug Jake to make up for his own childhood losses, or to simply express this new sense of love and connection he shared with the little boy? As he looked at Jake’s smiling face, he had no doubt. He wanted to shower Jake with unadulterated love and affection.
His chest was itching again.
“Tell you what, why don’t we invite Rob in for a quick drink of water and you can tell me what happened at camp today.”
“Great!” He wriggled out of his mother’s embrace and slid down to the floor, where he immediately took off for the kitchen.
“See? It wasn’t so bad, was it?” Trina’s eyes widened as she took in his expression. Her cool hands wiped tears from his cheeks, and he shook his head. He hadn’t known he was crying like a big baby.
“He’s incredible.”
She grinned, her mother’s pride unbeatable. “Just wait. Co
me on, let me treat you to a glass of ice water. Unless you want something stronger?”
“No, no—water is just fine.” No blurry tears and no spirits to keep him from experiencing this once-in-a-lifetime reunion. No, sir.
Chapter 9
Trina watched her mother’s eyes grow round when she walked into the hallway to see what was taking Trina so long to come into the kitchen. No doubt Carmen Lopez had heard Rob’s deep voice, too.
“Mom, this is Rob Bristol. We work together.”
“Oh, well, hello, Rob.” She gave Trina a hug and kiss. “You okay? Nolan said...” She trailed off, probably not wanting to say too much. Having two children in the military and now both in government service positions had trained her to be careful with what she said. Trina couldn’t love her mother more than she did in this moment. Her mother was faced with Trina bringing home a strange man and yet didn’t play Twenty Questions with her. Carmen Lopez had trusted her children to make their own decisions since Trina was a girl. It was something Trina strived to instill in Jake—to know that his mom had faith in his judgment. Now it would be both her and Rob working together on this, and all facets of parenting.
Instead of the loss of control she thought she’d feel, she enjoyed a sense of calm and...relief. Rob would be a great dad and it was going to be a pleasure to coparent with him.
“It’s okay, Mom. Yes, I had to work an extra job, but it’s all okay now.”
Carmen looked at her daughter and nodded, then turned her attention to Rob.
“Are either of you hungry?”
“No, ma’am. I’m good.”
“I’m just getting Rob a glass of water. We’re dehydrated a bit. We’ve been out in the sun all day.” All three of them walked into the kitchen, and Trina motioned for Rob and her mother to sit with Jake at the battered farm table that was left by the previous owner. Even though she planned to seriously rehab the place with modern conveniences, she appreciated the more rustic touches, too. Trina knew the historical roots of all she did, including purchasing a dilapidated farmhouse that sat on three of the farm’s original two hundred acres. It had been in the same family for generations, since the Revolutionary War era, until the last had decided to let go of the farm. Roots were important to her; it was why she’d left the Navy, so that Jake would grow up close to his extended family, especially his grandparents.
“Mom, we made plants in camp today.” Jake spoke with crystal-clear certainty, his hair mussed from her hug and his cheeks rosy from the sun.
“You mean you potted plants?”
“Yes! We did cactuses and ivy.”
“Cacti and ivy. Did you put your sunscreen on?” She cracked open an ice tray and filled three glasses to the brim with cubes. Trina didn’t have to look to know Jake was rolling his eyes. So she was conscientious about grammar and the risk of skin cancer. Jake needed to see this side of parenting, too. The more practical, day-to-day parts that could wear her down, make her forget to relax and enjoy Jake. He’d only be five once.
“Moooom. Uncle Nolan put sunscreen on me, and then the teacher reminded us to do a touch-up before we went outside.”
“Okay, that’s good.” She slid the glasses onto the table and noted her mother was staring at Rob. Hard. Crap! She wasn’t putting two and two together, was she? Trina had told both Nolan and her mother that Jake’s father had been killed in action. She had shown them each photos of Rob, then-Justin, mostly selfies and candids from deployment. The only time they’d spent not in a battle zone had been a quick R & R to Istanbul, Turkey. Those photos she’d kept for her eyes only. It was too painful to remember how happy she’d been.
And now the cause of that joy was sitting at her kitchen table. Alive, not a figment of her grief, which she’d thought she’d closed the door on almost two years ago. It had taken three full years to let him go.
“Trina.” Rob’s low voice shook her out of herself and she looked between him, her mother and Jake.
“I’m sorry, did I miss something?”
“Mom, I’m telling about the bug collecting trip.”
“You’re talking about the trip, or you’re telling a story about it.”
“Yeah, that’s it, I’m telling the bug story. We had to be very quiet and pay close attention to the grass and the leaves.”
“Why was that?” Rob asked the question with hesitation and reverence in his tone, as if Justin held the secret directions to the Holy Grail.
Her mother didn’t miss Rob’s rapt attention on Jake, as if he were afraid Jake would disappear with a blink. As Trina watched, Carmen’s gaze went from Rob to Jake, Jake to Rob.
Damn it. Her mother was the smartest person she knew, and right now Trina didn’t have the wherewithal to deal with an inquisition. Which she saw coming.
“Rob, are you a marshal, too?”
“No—I work for a private security firm. Trina and I were working together on the same case and ended up spending more time on it than either of us planned.” Trina bit back a grin. Undercover agents were adept at providing alibis and fake employment. Rob was no exception.
“It was complicated, but I can tell you we kept a significant number of young girls from being exploited.” Trina spoke quietly and without any drama, so as to not draw Jake’s attention.
“What’s ’splotated?” Jake had missed nothing.
“It’s when someone hurts someone else,” Rob answered, and Trina glared at him. Really? He’d been in the presence of his son for all of fifteen minutes and he was deciding what to tell him?
“Some girls got hurt?” Jake’s little face scrunched up in concern. “That’s wrong.”
“No, they didn’t get hurt. That’s what Mommy’s job is about, remember? To keep everyone safe.”
“Keepin’ it safe for democracy!” Jake yelled the way he did when he was up past his bedtime. She looked at the clock.
“It’s the weekend, and you know what that means, Jake!” Trina never tired of how his face lit up from the mere mention of “weekend” and his favorite breakfast.
“Waffles!” But his face immediately fell as he processed where Trina was going with her reasoning. “I don’t want to go to bed, Mom. I want to talk to this guy.”
“It’s Rob.” Rob had told him his name but Trina wanted to correct him, to tell him to call his father ‘dad.’ That was plain silly—it was too soon to tell Jake who Rob really was, and certainly not in front of Carmen, who was now staring at Rob with wide eyes.
“Mother, I’ll explain more tomorrow. Let me get Jake ready for bed.” Trina couldn’t blame her mother for looking so shocked. She’d shown her as well as Nolan the several photos she had of Rob, and he hadn’t changed, except for his blond hair sprouting some silver strands here and there.
“If you’re sure—” Carmen’s hair, the same dark chocolate color as Trina’s but sprinkled with long silver threads, framed her face, which was wrinkled in concern at her only daughter.
“I’m certain, Mother.” Trina gave her mother her best listen-to-me-I’ll-tell-you-later look. Fortunately, being slow on the draw wasn’t one of Carmen’s traits.
“Okay, well, I’ll be going. I’ve got my Saturday knitting group in the morning, down at Silver Threads.” Carmen referred to Silver Valley’s local yarn shop, located in a converted Victorian home.
“You’re going to knit in this heat?”
“Unlike your new house, the yarn shop is air-conditioned.”
“I have air-conditioning. Weren’t you able to fiddle with it?”
“Fiddle? I asked Nolan to bring your daddy’s biggest plumbing wrench over to slam that puppy into functioning.” Carmen reached down and patted Renegade’s head. “No offense, doggy. The air’s blowing but there’s not a lot of ‘cool’ to it.”
“At least it’s cooler outside than it’s been over the past few days.” Trina felt fine in the house
but knew the upstairs could become stifling with each heat wave. The central air was inefficient, and it would be one of her first investment repairs.
“Okay. See you on Sunday?” Carmen picked up her purse and car keys and kissed Trina’s cheek.
“Yes. We’ll be there.”
“Nice to meet you, Rob.” Her mother leaned in and stage-whispered, “Bring him with you on Sunday if you want.”
“Bye, Mom.” Trina did all she could to not make a face.
“Come here and give Grandma a kiss, Jake.”
He shuffled over to his beloved grandmother and hugged her with all his might, the sound of his kiss a loud smack in the small kitchen. Carmen laughed. “That’s my boy. See you Sunday.”
“Bye, Grandma.”
She left out the back kitchen door. The door stuck and she pulled on it extra hard, which made the shade on the door sway.
“That door needs to be fit to the frame.” Rob’s observation set off Trina’s radar-like defenses.
“It’s hot and humid—it’s only swollen. It’ll be fine in the cooler months.”
“More like freezing. It’ll shrink and let a draft in.” He stood up and walked to the door, ran his hands around the edge.
Jake hopped over to Rob, peering at the battered door as if it held the secrets to his five-year-old universe. “Yeah, it’s got cracks, Mom.”
Trina’s breathing hitched somewhere between her gut and her heart.
“It’s time for you to go to bed, mister.”
“Mom. I’m helping Mr. Rob with the door.” He folded his little arms over his puffed-out chest, his glare at its most powerful.