The Marine's Secret Daughter

by Carrie Nichols

  He slid down the door and landed on his butt. Pulling his legs up and resting his arms on his knees, he hung his head. Oh, God, this hurt worse than when he’d woken up in the hospital after the blast that killed Trejo. At least then he knew those injuries would heal, but this...this would take more than time and rest. More than a simple bag of booze bottles.

  He was going to have to let Meg go.

  * * *

  A week later, Riley parked his rental car on the street in front of a neatly tended, tan Craftsman-style bungalow in a Los Angeles suburb. His thoughts had kept coming back to one thing. He hated cutting his time with Meg and Fiona short, but he needed to lay the past to rest in order to go forward, so he’d driven to Boston and caught a flight to L.A. The image of Meg and Fiona waving from the porch of the cozy cottage shattered his heart like a mortar to the chest every time he thought about it. Even the puppy had looked forlorn.

  He had two days left on his leave and then five until his appointment with his career counselor. If he signed those papers, he’d be obligated to the marines for another four years. A month ago it was a given he’d go back to Afghanistan and his men.

  Now his shoulders slumped from the weight of the burden of this decision, but coming here was one way of closing the door on the past. He got out of the car and glanced around the blue-collar neighborhood, flexing his wrist now that it was free of the cast.

  His gut churned as he strode up the cement walk. On the porch he tucked his cap under his arm, rang the bell and stood back. The glass storm door reflected his image back to him and he stared at the uniform he’d worn out of respect.

  An attractive woman in her forties opened the inner door and he took another step back so she could open the outer door.

  At first she frowned at him, her brown eyes wary. “Can I help you, Sergeant?”

  She was familiar enough with the uniform to know his rank. “Ma’am, I’m sorry to intrude but I wanted to speak with you and your husband if he’s home.”

  “Does this having anything to do with my...my son?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I served with him in Afghanistan.”

  “Sergeant Cooper?”

  He tried to swallow the lump in his throat and couldn’t dislodge it, so he had to speak around it. “That’s right, ma’am. I should have come sooner. I apologize for the delay.”

  She smiled. “I...well, I wasn’t expecting you, so I guess you’re not late, are you?”

  “No, ma’am, not if you put it like that. Is your husband here?” He knew they’d be nice people before even meeting them. And yet, her gracious smile gutted him, but he had to do this not just for himself but for Meg and Fiona.

  “Yes, he’s here. Won’t you come in? We just finished up lunch. Can I get you anything?” She stepped aside so he could enter.

  “I don’t want to intrude.” And yet he was going to.

  “Believe me, Sergeant, you’re most welcome. If you don’t want lunch, at least have coffee and cake with us. Alex told us so much about you in his letters and calls.”

  Riley swallowed hard. “He did?”

  “Oh, yes, he spoke very highly of you. I think he thought of you as sort of a mentor.”

  He followed the woman through a tidy living room lined with photos of their son. A gold-framed picture of Trejo in his dress blues presided over the room from above the fireplace. His steps faltered as he stared at the young man who’d saved his sorry ass. Trejo had spoken highly of me? He’d never thought of himself as a mentor. He dragged his gaze away from the picture and followed the woman into a small but friendly kitchen with a round maple table and four chairs. The cheerful kitchen reminded him of Meg’s and he blinked to clear his vision.

  “Have a seat.” The woman pointed to one of the chairs.

  “Thanks, ma’am.” He sat down but jumped up when a distinguished-looking man the same age as the woman came through a side door.

  The older man’s head jerked back when he spotted Riley.

  “Ronald, this is Sergeant Cooper. The squad leader Alex spoke about.”

  The man came forward and thrust out his hand. After shaking hands, he pointed to the chair Riley had vacated. “Sit. Please. It’s an honor to meet you, son.”

  Trejo’s parents also took seats at the table.

  Riley looked down at the cover clutched in his hand. “I’m not sure where to begin or even why I’m here but I...” He cleared his throat. “I wanted you to know that your son’s actions saved my life that day. It was a selfless act of courage. I wanted to be sure you knew that. I know it’s cold comfort, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

  Trejo’s mother placed her hand on his arm. “Thank you. This means a lot to us. We’ve always been proud of Alex.”

  “As you should be, ma’am. Is there anything I can do for you? Anything you might need?”

  “Do you have any children, Sergeant Cooper?”

  Although confused by her question, he couldn’t stop the automatic smile when he thought of Fiona. “Yes, I have a daughter. Her name is Fiona...like the princess.”

  The woman nodded. “I don’t suppose you have a picture. I know everyone these days keeps all their pictures on their phones, but I still like good, old-fashioned paper ones.”

  “Yes, I do.” Another strange question, but he pulled out his wallet. He had the picture of Meg and Fiona he’d swiped from Meg’s refrigerator before leaving. He handed it over.

  The woman smiled as she stared at the picture. “Your little girl is adorable. She looks like her mother, but I can see plenty of you in her, too. May I have this?”

  “Of course.” He was flummoxed but he couldn’t say no.

  “Thank you.” She held up the picture. “When I think of Alex, I’ll pull out this picture and know that because of my son, this sweet little girl will grow up with her daddy.”

  “I don’t know what to say, ma’am.” Riley had trouble getting the words past his thick throat, and though he blinked several times, his vision remained blurry.

  “You’ve already said it, son, with that look on your face when you spoke about them.” Ronald Trejo patted Riley’s arm. “Love your family. That’s good enough for us.”

  * * *

  Riley’s uniform had allowed him to catch an earlier flight back to Boston, He was exhausted after making the twelve-hour drive back to Camp Lejeune and should’ve felt relief as he passed through the front gates, but entering the base didn’t feel like arriving home the way it had in the past.

  You’ve already said it...with that look on your face when you spoke about them. Love your family. That’s good enough for us.

  Ronald Trejo’s words played on a loop in his head. Why had he fought so hard to hide from the truth? Of course he loved Meg. He had for a long time, but had been too stubborn—no, make that scared—to admit it. He recalled the words he used when he proposed. He’d said words like obligation and duty. No wonder she refused him. She’d have to have been crazy to accept a proposal like that. Of course Meggie wanted love. She’d want a marriage based on love like her parents had, not one based on duty or anything else.

  With a tired curse he dropped his pack on his bed in the bachelor quarters and unzipped it. He pushed the sides apart and froze. On top of the civilian clothes and skivvies sat a ragged, well-loved stuffed Dalmatian. Holy hell.

  How had that gotten in there? Knowing how much Fiona doted on the stuffed critter, he could imagine the panic going on right now in the Loon Lake cottage. Poor Meg. She was probably trying to console Fiona while searching for the thing. He still couldn’t imagine how he’d ended up with it.

  Mangy helps when the scared comes and helps when you get boo-boos. Fiona’s words came back to him. Meg must be his Mangy because she made his wounds hurt less; all the scars, emotional and physical, had hurt less when he’d made love to Meg. She couldn’t undo or change the horrors
he’d experienced, but she made the darkness they brought not so scary.

  An envelope with his name written in Meg’s neat, flowing cursive lay under the stuffed toy. He pulled it out and stared at it. The irony of the situation was not lost on him and his lip curled.

  Knowing he’d hurt her and himself by returning her letters stole his breath. With shaking hands he opened the envelope and pulled out a legal document. Unfolding it, he saw it was a birth certificate. Fiona’s birth certificate. His gaze went straight to father... There on the line was Riley James Cooper.

  He stared at his name until the letters blurred together. When he was able to move, he unfolded the note.

  I know this doesn’t make up for the years you missed, but you’ve always been Fiona’s father. Nothing will change that. And I love you. I always have and I always will. Nothing will change that, either.

  He set the papers aside and picked up the stuffed Dalmatian. Holding Mangy, he could smell Fiona, Meg, the cottage, all of it, as if it were all trapped in the fake fur. Taking a deep breath, he let the weeks he’d spent in Loon Lake fill him.

  “Oh, man, Coop’s got himself a new friend.” Another marine stood in the doorway.

  Riley flipped him off. “It belongs to my daughter, you dumbass.”

  “Daughter? Didn’t know you had any kids.”

  “Well, I do.”

  “How old is she?”

  “Just turned five.” Riley cleared his throat. “Her name’s Fiona.”

  The guy shook his head. “What’re you doin’ back here? Why aren’t you thanking your lucky stars you made it back in one piece?”

  “My men need me,” he said automatically, but his words lacked the conviction they’d once held.

  “Not as much as they need to know it’s possible to make it back so you can raise your kid.” The guy’s cell phone buzzed and he raised his hand. “Later, man.”

  Riley thought about what he’d said. Sure, he had an obligation to the men in his squad, but didn’t he also have one to Meg and Fiona? He’d let Meg down in the past by abandoning her to face her pregnancy alone. It was true that he hadn’t known about it, but now he did. This time, he had willfully abandoned her. How could he fault her if she turned to some other guy to share her life? If he lost her to someone else, the blame would be squarely on his shoulders. Even if he was leaving for as noble a cause as fighting for his country, the fact remained he’d left his family. He’d already served his obligation to the marines. Almost a decade’s worth.

  His finger shook and he had to swipe his screen a second time in order to call Meg.

  “Riley?”

  A large lump formed in his throat at the sound of her sweet, slightly husky voice, and he had to swallow twice before he could force any sound past it. “Hey, I... I wanted to let you know that somehow Mangy ended up in my gear.”

  “Good Lord,” Meg muttered.

  Still too raw, too hollowed out, he couldn’t bring himself to mention the documents. Instead, he said, “Yeah, I figure things might have reached critical mass by now.”

  “She hasn’t mentioned it. The fact that she now has a real-live puppy might have helped, although I’m not sure what will happen next time we have a thunderstorm. She’s in her room—let me get her.”

  He heard noise in the background, followed by high-pitched chatter.

  “Mr. Riley, you called me.” Fiona sounded breathless.

  His gut clenched. “I told you I would.”

  “Mommy didn’t believe me.”

  He heard Meg protesting in the background. With his track record, he couldn’t blame her. Meg said something about Mangy before Fiona came back on. “I don’t have to give my real-live Mangy back, do I?”

  He swallowed, trying to clear the clog in his throat. “No, he’s all yours, but you have to help Mommy take care of him.”

  “I promise. Is that why you called me? To make sure I took good care of my new Mangy?”

  “No, I called because somehow old Mangy got into my duffel bag and came to the base with me.”

  “Does he like it there? I told him he needed to take care of you when the scared comes.”

  “You put him in my bag on purpose?”

  “Uh-huh. I was worried about what you would do when the scared came. And I didn’t want you to forget me or Mommy.”

  “I... I...” He cleared his throat. “I could never forget my girls... I... I need to go now, princess.”

  “Okay, we love you...”

  “I love you, too.” He could barely see his screen to end the call.

  Riley was thankful he was alone. Christ, if anyone saw him now, they’d take his man card and run it through a shredder. A grown-ass marine bawling like a baby.

  * * *

  After Riley’s phone call, Meg and Fiona sat down to a quiet supper.

  “Why did you send Mangy with Mr. Riley?” Meg was still trying to get over the fact that Fiona had let her precious stuffed animal go.

  “I saw you put something into his bag and I wanted to give him something of mine because I knew how sad he was.” Fiona picked at her supper. “When we went to the lake and I showed him my princess tree, he told me all about the king who had to go away.”

  Meg pushed her green beans across the plate. “He did?”

  “Uh-huh. He told me how much it hurt the king to leave the queen and the little princess but he had to fight the dragons.” Fiona stabbed a bean and stuck it in her mouth and frowned.

  “That’s a story, sweetie. Like the princess movies you like to watch.”

  Fiona dropped her fork with a clatter and stuck out her chin. “Mr. Riley said I was the princess in the story.”

  Meg pushed her plate aside. “Yes, sweetie, but it was a story he made up. He was being nice when you showed him your tree.”

  “Doesn’t he like me?”

  Just because he’s nice doesn’t mean he likes you. Oh, God, what was she doing? Meg’s arms curled around her stomach, remembering how those words hurt. Liam probably didn’t even remember them and here she was dragging them around with her like a battered suitcase. What kind of mother was she, doing that to her own daughter? She choked back a sob.

  “Mommy?” Fiona slipped off her chair and went to Meg.

  Meg pulled her onto her lap. “Oh, sweetie, Riley loves you more than anything in the world. I know he’d be here with us if he could. And he was very sad to leave us.”

  Fiona put her arms around Meg and buried her face in her neck. “I misses him.”

  Meg rocked her. “So do I.”

  The puppy came over and whined, trying to wedge his face between their bodies. Meg couldn’t help but laugh because he was so freaking cute. Fiona ended up giggling, too.

  “How about we take Mangy for a walk to the lake to check on your tree?”

  “Can we, Mommy?”

  “Sure.”

  The puppy yipped in agreement and began dancing around.

  “And when we come back, you can draw some pictures and we’ll send them to Riley as soon as we get his address.”

  “Can we send him pictures every day?”

  “I think that’s a very good idea.” Meg realized she meant it. She didn’t want to discourage Fiona and Riley’s relationship. She wanted Fiona to believe in fairy tales and happy endings. They might not always happen for everyone, but to take away her beliefs would be sad. “Let’s put Mangy’s leash on him and go to the lake.”

  “Can I hold his leash, Mommy?”

  “Be sure to hold it tight.”

  The excited puppy dragged them to the lake.

  “Mommy, look!” Fiona pointed to her princess tree. “He’s coming home. Isn’t that good?”

  “Well, I...” Meg couldn’t believe what she saw. The tree had fallen. She vacillated between letting Fiona keep her dreams and lettin
g her know that Riley might not be coming back...ever. No—she pushed that thought aside. Even if she didn’t believe in fairy tales for herself, the thought something could happen to Riley in Afghanistan was something even she refused to believe.

  “When’s he comin’ home?”

  A smile was beyond her, but Meg hoped she didn’t sound as fatalistic as she felt when she said, “I guess we’ll have to wait and see, sweetie.”

  She clung to hope like a life preserver, afraid if she lost it, she’d drown in a sea of despair. Riley had taken a picture off the refrigerator before he left. The one of her and Fiona together. Why that one? Why not one of Fiona alone? That had to mean something. He’d shown how much he cared in a dozen little ways, even if he hadn’t said the words she longed to hear.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The excited puppy chased after a meandering butterfly, lunging into the air and falling flat on his tummy. Meg smiled at his antics, unable to resist his zest for life, but her heart still ached and every night she cried herself to sleep out of sight of Fiona. Meg did her best to put up a good front for her daughter, but she knew it would take a long time, if ever, for her to get over Riley. She wished she had Fiona’s unwavering conviction that Riley would be returning to them soon. It had been only ten days since he’d left, but it felt like a lifetime. How could she have grown so accustomed to his presence in such a short time?

  She pulled her feet onto the Adirondack chair and rested her chin on her knees. The curly-haired puppy ran onto the porch and lapped up water from the dish beside Meg’s chair. With a tired sigh, he flopped down.

  He was a canine version of Fiona, with his coppery curls and boundless energy. The poor thing was stuck with the name Mangy, but that was what you got when you let a five-year-old name a dog. Meg’s tired sigh matched the dog’s.

  Even with the rambunctious puppy to keep her entertained, Meg’s thoughts strayed to Riley. Was he on his way back to Afghanistan? He’d called every night to talk to Fiona, but he’d missed the past three nights. Each time she’d tried to find out his plans, he changed the subject and pride prevented her from begging for information. Would the next time she heard from him be from some marine base in that or some other war-torn country?