Daddy in Dress Blues

by Cathie Linz

  “Hey—” Curt held his hands out in a motion of disavowal. “I keep telling you that I had nothing to do with you pulling that assignment in the Mojave Desert. How could I? I’m just a lowly Infantry Platoon Sergeant.”

  “Yeah, right. But at least sidestepping snakes in the desert isn’t as bad as teaching squids.”

  Like most marines, Joe felt a friendly rivalry with the U.S. Navy.

  Leaning back in his chair, Curt fixed his buddy with a friendly glare. “Marines teach Navy SEALS.”

  “Now that you mention it, I’m on my way to Quantico myself for some special training. I had a few hours layover at O’Hare before my flight so I thought I’d take a cab up here to check in and see how you were doing. I had no idea I’d find out you were a dad.”

  “I’m not sure about this dad stuff.”

  “What are you talking about? You’re a marine. How hard can being a dad be?”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

  “So who changed your mind?” Joe asked, as shrewd as ever. “And what’s her name and phone number?”

  Curt’s glare became a little less friendly. “Her name is Jessie and she’s my daughter’s preschool teacher. Put your black book away, I’m not giving you her phone number.”

  “She in the book?”

  “Forget about it.”

  “Oh, so that’s how it is.” Joe nodded knowingly. “You’ve put a claim on her yourself. Ooh-rah!” Joe’s version of the marine motivational cry was accompanied by a comrade-at-arms thump on Curt’s back.

  “Change of subject now—”

  “Only if it’s something that will embarrass you as much as this subject does,” Joe inserted with a grin.

  “What happened to Semper Fidelis?” Curt demanded, reminding his buddy of the marine motto, Latin for Always Faithful.

  “Semper Fi.” Joe used the shortened version. “Best motto of any branch of the Armed Forces.”

  Curt had to smile at his friend’s brashness at singing the Corps praises in the midst of a Naval base. The looks they were getting from their Navy counterparts promised retribution. “Best uniform, too,” he added. “Dress blues.”

  “Best haircut.” Joe ran his hand over his head and his shortly cropped hair. “You can’t have a bad hair day with a high and tight.”

  Getting in the swing of things now, Curt said, “Best slogan—Once a Marine, Always a Marine.”

  “Tell that to the marines,” Joe countered with a hoot.

  “Send in the marines!” they both shouted before being completely surrounded by their naval counterparts as the “friendly” pushing and shoving began.

  Chapter 5

  AS JESSICA SAT ACROSS the table from Trevor at the Thai restaurant, she wondered why he couldn’t be the one to make her heart beat faster. Instead she was having a hard time staying awake as he went into excruciating detail about his collection of Asian art.

  It wasn’t that she hated art. The problem was Trevor. And it irked her that she hadn’t noticed it until Curt had reappeared.

  A successful financial advisor, Trevor was a nice enough man, if a little overly impressed by his own intelligence and wealth.

  They’d been dating for about a month now. At first Jessica had thought that as she got to know him better, the attraction would continue to grow. But it hadn’t. There was just no real spark between them.

  It wasn’t as if she was looking for instant lust here, or for combustible chemistry. On the contrary, her experience with Curt had taught her that there was a reason passion was always described in terms of fire and flames—because it burned and destroyed.

  No, she didn’t want uncontrollable passion. But she did want something more than she had with Trevor. Surely it wasn’t a good sign that right now she’d rather be sitting at home in front of her TV than sitting here with him. Or that the best thing about her evening so far was the spring rolls.

  So much for Trevor protecting her from Curt’s attraction. Amy had claimed it was time to call in reinforcements. The only thing tonight had reinforced was that she and Trevor didn’t have much of a future.

  Maybe you should have called in the marines instead. Or one marine in particular.

  The thought bolted across her mental radar. It was the kind of thinking that had gotten her in trouble in the first place.

  Maybe she should give Trevor another chance after all. But by the end of the evening, when he kissed her good-night, she knew there was no hope. Maybe he knew the same thing because he made no mention of going out with her again. After an awkward second or two, the sound of her ringing phone allowed Jessica to make a quick getaway into her condo.

  Kicking off her high-heeled navy pumps, she curled her legs beneath her as she sank onto her couch and prepared to give Amy the sorry details of her date with Trevor.

  But it wasn’t Amy on the phone. It was Curt.

  “You omitted a few important elements from that Daddy Boot Camp of yours,” he said without bothering with more than a cursory greeting. “You never did get around to the topics of dressing and bedtime.”

  Because he’d kissed her.

  “And now I find myself having some difficulty in that area,” he stated.

  “The books you read…” she began.

  “Don’t say what to do when she wants to wear the same thing day after day,” he said in exasperation. “The kid hates getting dressed, and it takes her forever.”

  By now Jessica was as curled up as a pretzel, her legs bent beneath her, her navy-blue silk dress in danger of being twisted completely out of shape. Stress. Nerves.

  Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself. Standing up, she deliberately reseated herself on the couch, both feet flat on the floor, her dress serenely draped around her legs.

  When she spoke, her voice was smooth and collected. “Try laying out her clothes the night before. And let her choose what she wants to wear. At this age they like doing things themselves.”

  “Hey, I’m all for her being independent and self-sufficient. But I can’t stand around all day waiting for her.”

  His words made Jessica’s momentary composure evaporate in an instant. “No, waiting isn’t your specialty, is it,” she noted tartly.

  He certainly hadn’t waited for her. He’d probably forgotten about her the moment he’d left town.

  “So what should I do about Blue?” Curt demanded. “At this point I’m ready to put her in starched cammies and be done with it.”

  “Jammies?” she said, unsure she’d heard him correctly.

  “Not jammies. Cammies. Camouflage utilities. A uniform. My uniform.”

  The few times she’d caught sight of him in his camouflage uniform he’d looked only slightly less sexy than when he’d worn those sexy dress blues. Uniform…suddenly it clicked. “Maybe since Blue sees you wearing the same thing to work every day she wants to imitate you and wear the same thing to school.”

  “I was only kidding about putting her in cammies,” Curt said.

  “You don’t have to put her in cammies. Just wash her outfit every night or get her another one just like it if you can so you could alternate between them. I’m sure she’ll grow out of this phase once she’s feeling more secure and comfortable about things.” Speaking of comfortable, Jessica had once again curled her legs beneath her. Some habits were just too hard to break. “She seems to be reaching out a little more with the other kids at the preschool. Another little girl, Susan, has taken her under her wing. Susan is very outgoing, and she’s helping Blue.”

  “She’s the one you paired Blue with that first day, right?”

  “That’s right.” She was surprised he remembered. She’d thought that he hadn’t heard a thing she’d said that day because he’d been so eager to dump his daughter and leave. But apparently she might have misjudged him. In that regard, at least.

  “There’s one more thing…” Curt said.

  Her heart skipped and adrenaline raced through her body. If he brought up their kiss, she’d thro
ttle him.

  “This coming Sunday is Easter,” he continued. “And I got that flyer you sent home about an Easter Egg hunt on Saturday. Only Blue pasted stickers all over it, and now I can’t read any of the details, like time and location.”

  He wasn’t talking about their kiss. So why did she still want to throttle him? He’d probably already forgotten all about it. Fine. She could do the same. She’d focus on school activities and on Blue’s progress. She’d treat him the way she would any other parent.

  “The Easter Egg hunt takes place at the park just behind the preschool,” she replied. “At nine in the morning. The actual hunt begins at quarter after but you need to be there ahead of time as it does get crowded. Do you plan on bringing Blue?” There, her voice sounded perfectly normal. Polite with just the right touch of teacher interest. “I think she’d enjoy it.”

  “Then I’ll bring her,” Curt said. “Providing I don’t have to dress her up in something frilly for Easter.”

  “Frilly attire is not required,” she assured him.

  “Outstanding. We will see you at the aforementioned location at oh-nine hundred hours.”

  As she hung up the phone, Jessica hoped that by then she’d have rebuilt her defenses where Curt was concerned.

  Ah, Saturday morning in the park. Jessica raised her face and basked in the unusual warmth of the sun. The sky was blue, the trees just beginning to show their spring green buds and the sound…well, the sound was just about deafening. The park was already filled with hoards of eager preschoolers clamoring to begin. Last night two of Chicago’s weather forecasters had promised rain, but the third had predicted sunny skies.

  Jessica was infinitely grateful for the sunshine. Last year rain had pounded the six-foot inflated rabbit that marked the entrance to their egg hunt. Last year the forecasters had predicted sunshine.

  More than a dozen staff members and parent volunteers had shown up hours earlier to ensure that the hundreds and hundreds of plastic eggs had been hidden so that three- and four-year-olds could find them. All the staff members, including Jessica, wore yellow T-shirts that said No Yolk, This Is Fun!

  Since Sarah Connolly was the preschool director, she had custody of the megaphone, which needed to be used in order to be heard over all the squealing and shouting kids. Two years ago they’d used a thin string to hold the egg hunters at bay, but after one little tyke hadn’t been able to wait, he’d started a stampede.

  So this year, several of the teacher’s aides had linked hands and formed a human chain across the starting line.

  Curt arrived precisely at 9:00 a.m. He was wearing his U.S. Marine dress blues, and he looked as impressive as he had that first day he’d walked into her classroom. The other dads’ khaki slacks and sport jackets paled in comparison to the military crispness of his attire. The brass buttons gleamed in the sunlight while his white gloves were folded over his belt with knifelike precision.

  And holding on to his hand was Blue. Dressed in little girl pink, but minus any frills, she was walking beside her father with a skip in her step and a grin on her face. In her hand was a pink plastic Easter basket.

  Jessica’s heart lodged in her throat and a bittersweet pain pierced her heart. What would it be like to have a daughter of her own? The longing was so intense that it became an actual physical ache.

  She’d become a preschool teacher so that she’d be able to interact with children when they were at their most impressionable age. And her work had helped her come to terms with her situation.

  But just when she thought she’d dealt with the fact that she couldn’t have children, Curt and his daughter had entered her life and shattered that myth.

  “Jessie, Jessie, Jessie!” Seeing her, Blue tugged her father right over. “I’m ready now,” she regally stated, like an actress notifying her director that filming could begin.

  Gazing down at her, Jessica could see signs of Curt in the obstinate line of Blue’s chin and in the depth of her brown eyes. Blue had been anxious all week for the Easter egg hunt to begin. Like most three-year-olds she didn’t have any real concept of the passage of time.

  “How does this operation proceed?” Curt said. “Are parents supposed to accompany their kids?”

  “Most do.”

  Before Curt could reply, Sarah made her announcement.

  “Okay, we’re ready to begin now. Let the countdown begin.” Sarah’s amplified voice carried over the ruckus. “Five, four, three, two, one, go!”

  “And they’re off,” Jessica murmured.

  The frantic pursuit of candy and prizes packed away in plastic eggs had begun. Some eggs were “hidden” on the low branches of trees or on the ground, on park benches, even on swings. Others had been placed in loose piles of hay. All were in clear sight and no higher than a little one’s eye level.

  The preschoolers were racing toward their goals, toting bags, baskets or pails as they scrambled onto the field.

  Jessica couldn’t help herself. She sought out Blue in the melee. It wasn’t hard to find her, she was near Curt, and heaven knew he stood out in the crowd. In addition, they hadn’t gotten very far from the starting line where Jessica stood and watched them.

  Each time Blue found an egg, she paused to show it to Curt before carefully placing it in the basket. Then she’d stand there and admire it.

  While Blue seemed unaware of the other kids running around the park continuing their search, Curt was looking around in alarm. Jessica heard him say, “Hey, the other kids are getting ahead of you. Go get eggs.”

  Blue just smiled at him.

  “Get a move on, kid,” he urged her. “You’re falling behind. Go on now. Get a move on.”

  Jessica saw red. Moving swiftly, she joined them to smile reassuringly at Blue. “Blue’s doing just fine. Lisa, why don’t you take her for a minute?” she asked her teacher’s aide. Taking Curt by one arm, she tugged him out of earshot before growling, “Blue’s doing fine, but you, Mr. Hotshot Marine, you’re in big trouble!”

  “What?” Curt demanded. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “The purpose of an Easter egg hunt is not to collect more eggs than anyone else.”

  “Sure it is.” He refused to be intimidated by the fact that this was the first Easter egg hunt he’d actually ever participated in. The group foster home hadn’t been big on holidays. Not for older kids. And his mother never bothered when he was a real little kid.

  But that didn’t matter now. The rules of an Easter egg hunt were similar to a search-and-rescue mission. Only in this case, plastic eggs filled with candy were being retrieved. The more, the better. Any blockhead could figure that out.

  “The purpose is to have fun,” Jessica was saying.

  “Fun?” he repeated as if unfamiliar with the term. “Winning is fun.”

  “There are no winners or losers here.”

  “Oh, I get it.” He nodded understandingly. “Because they’re all little kids, you don’t want to call the others losers.”

  “They’re not losers.”

  “Not in life, no,” he clarified. “Just in today’s Easter egg hunt.”

  “Listen, you—” She jabbed him smack-dab in the middle of his fourth shiny brass button. “You’re not listening to me.”

  “Can you get to the point?” His impatient gaze went beyond her shoulder to his daughter, who stood well out of earshot and was showing Lisa a neon-pink egg filled with stickers. “Blue is getting farther behind the longer we stand here jawing.”

  “She’s having fun, Curt. Let her be. Let her find her own way.”

  His eyes returned to Jessica’s face. “What is it you’re accusing me of this time?”

  “Of being too competitive.”

  “I’m a marine. We’re supposed to be competitive.”

  “Not at an Easter egg hunt.”

  He stiffened. “Excuse me if my manners aren’t perfect. This is the first event of this kind I’ve attended. If we’re embarrassing you, this said marine and his
daughter will leave ASAP.”

  “No.” She placed a restraining hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply…”

  “What?” he said bitterly. “That I don’t fit in with all these yuppie parents? You think I don’t already know that?”

  She’d hit a nerve, she belatedly realized. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “It’s just…you don’t have to try so hard to succeed.”

  “I’ve already told you…”

  “That marines are trained to succeed. I know.” Her voice was soothing, tinged with rueful humor. “But remember what I told you about being flexible?”

  “Semper Gumby,” he said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “The marine motto is Semper Fidelis or Semper Fi. It’s Latin for Always Faithful.”

  The irony wasn’t lost on her. Here he was telling her that the Corps he loved so much had a motto that went to the heart of his betrayal with her. For he hadn’t been faithful. Not to her. Not even for a short time. And since he’d come back, he hadn’t even remembered her name at first or acknowledged that night in the back seat of his car. He hadn’t mentioned their kiss, either. And that had only happened a few days ago.

  Let it go, she reminded herself. Don’t even go there.

  “Marines have the best motto,” Curt was saying, “and the best twist on that motto is Semper Gumby. Always Flexible. So if you’re asking me if I can be flexible, the answer is yes. On occasion.”

  She noticed how he kept a watchful eye on Blue, but this time his gaze showed…was that affection? Yes, there was definitely a special light in his eyes as he followed his daughter’s progress. It was part awe, part pride, part even fear perhaps. And definitely a big dose of paternal affection. Her irritation melted.

  “How are things going with you and Blue?” she asked.

  “Fine. You said I should interact with her more so I’ve got her signed up for a kindergym class at the community center. It starts this afternoon.” His voice was filled with enthusiasm. “They have a trampoline and rug-rat-size stuff for her to climb on. That should be good, right?” His gaze returned to Jessica, as if seeking her reassurance.