Having the Soldier's Baby

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  Chapter Six

  How could he have walked into this without a plan? Everything was about the plan. Without a plan, there was chaos.

  Chaos was unacceptable.

  Walking to the back of the house, Winston worked his mind toward a plan. For that, he needed a goal. He had two. Active duty. That was clear.

  And Emily’s well-being. No more pain for her. She needed to be free of him.

  Very clear.

  And not so clear at all.

  In her bedroom, he stopped, half concerned that she’d follow him. He had no plan for that, either. But knew he didn’t want it to happen.

  When he was certain he was still alone—there was no movement of air that indicated otherwise—he took a quick glance around.

  Nothing about the space had changed. The wedding ring he’d dropped on the nightstand on the side of the bed he’d used to sleep on—a ritual any time he left on assignment, their symbol that he’d be back—was still right where he’d dropped it, in a small circle thick with dust. For more than two years, she’d dusted around it. She’d never picked it up.

  That was to have been his job. His promise that he would be back. That she wouldn’t get the ring back from a uniformed official. Or hear that it had been lost with him at sea.

  So here was a fact. Emily was still living in their past. He had to free her of him so she could move on and be well. Happy.

  Just leaving her alone, living somewhere else, wasn’t going to do that. Two years of living as the husband of another woman in an Afghan desert hadn’t done it—holing up in the barracks in San Diego certainly wasn’t going to. Not that she knew about poor Afsoon—the woman who’d been made to marry him sight unseen who had shed tears when she’d had to share his bed.

  But even if he told Emily about Afsoon, he knew what she’d say—the same thing his superiors all said. He’d done what he had to do to save lives.

  They were all right.

  But finding out that he was capable of... He shook his head. Coming back served no purpose. He knew what he knew. About himself. About life.

  And didn’t believe in any of the things Emily’s house proclaimed. The love she’d thought she’d been keeping alive didn’t exist. Not in the form they’d always thought. Hard to fathom how he could ever have believed it did.

  They’d been kids, pure and simple. Naive.

  He’d made promises he hadn’t kept. Taken vows he could no longer honor. He had to be accountable for that. Had to set her free. It was all about her freedom. Yes. He could do whatever it took for the freedom of others.

  And sometimes plans were fluid. They had to be. Spur of the moment, even, based on what the enemy put before you. The unseen and sometimes unknown.

  You simply had to assess the hurdles. Which was him. Yes, he was the hurdle to Emily’s freedom. To her eventual happiness. A happiness based on truth, not the lies of youth.

  So that was it. He had to dispel the lies. Show her the truth. Not by leaving her. He couldn’t stand in that room and not be aware of the damage his simply walking away would cause.

  No, he had to show her. In as kind a way as possible. Minimize the pain.

  The plan was forming.

  Life was about doing what you had to do until you died.

  And if you were a decent man, you did your duty.

  * * *

  She gave him ten minutes. When there was no movement coming from the bedroom in all that time, Emily trusted her gut and went to find Winston. To help him. She had no idea how hard this had to be for him. Couldn’t hope to put herself in his shoes.

  But when he hurt, she hurt. Pure and simple.

  She had something that would bring him great joy. She had the healing tonic, growing right inside her. And all of the love and patience he could ever need to help him get to it.

  He didn’t seem to have moved since entering the room. Still in full uniform, not a drawer opened or a closet door, not even a button undone, he stood there, staring at his nightstand.

  The ring.

  How could she have forgotten about the ring?

  Having lived around it, moved around it, for so long, it had almost become a part of the furniture.

  A revered one, but still...

  The deal was that he’d retrieve it when he got back. Moving quietly, but quickly, she snapped the ring off the nightstand. Dusted it with the hem of her shirt. Grabbed Winston’s left hand and slid the ring in place.

  It still fit.

  That mattered.

  “Deals change,” she told him, meeting his gaze as he looked down at her. “The love doesn’t.”

  He said nothing. Took his hand from hers. But didn’t remove the ring.

  They faced each other. She wasn’t intimidated. Like always, she had his back. He’d been through hell to get home to them. It was her turn to do their work. Or something like that.

  “I understand that things change, Win. That things happened while you were gone, with both of us. I also know that our love is stronger than anything that life can dish out. No matter what happened. Or what changed. I’m here. You have my total support. And I’m absolutely thrilled, beyond anything I’ll ever be able to express, that you’re home. You, the man you are now. Welcome home.”

  His lower lip jutted, giving his chin a small pucker.

  “So, what do you want to do first?”

  “I have to return the rental car by five.”

  Innocuous words. They felt huge. “Okay, I’ll follow you. I’m assuming you rented it in San Diego?” It’s where the base was.

  Where her mother and brother were, too, but there was no way she was exposing Winston to family. Not until he was ready.

  At the moment, she had no idea when that might be.

  One second at a time.

  That’s how she’d dealt with his disappearance. His official death. And that’s how she’d deal with life, too, for as long as it took.

  “I didn’t intend to stay here tonight.”

  She shook her head. The past two years had taught her a lot about her own strength. She could and would stand her ground on what mattered. “This is your home, Win. Where else would you stay?”

  “The barracks.”

  “Why?”

  He stared at her—it wasn’t normal, those looks. There was nothing for her to read in his eyes.

  He’s changed. Emotionally.

  Chaplain Blaine had left her card. Emily would call her as soon as she could. The chaplain and the others had assured her that Winston was not a danger to himself or others. To the contrary, he’d been open and honest about all that was going on with him. They’d needed her to understand that life’s experiences changed people.

  “I said I didn’t intend to stay here tonight—that wasn’t my plan when I first appeared at the door. I have since come to the conclusion that it would be best if I did. Stay, that is. With your permission. However, if my being here makes you uncomfortable, in any way, I am fine to drive myself back to San Diego and stay in the barracks.”

  Hands on her hips, she stepped closer to him. “Let’s get one thing clear, Winston Dane Hannigan. You are my husband. For better or worse. Until I no longer have breath in my body. This is our home, not just mine. You own it equally, and are equally responsible for it. I kept it running for us. I now expect you to take over your part. If, however, you don’t want to be around me, then we’ll work out a way to coexist here until you do.”

  Her heart should be shattering. It just wasn’t. Winston was home! He was damaged, and that hurt...badly. But this wasn’t about her. Love...it truly meant fighting the other’s fight. And he had one hell of a big one in front of him. She was on it. Full force.

  He could leave. She wouldn’t stop him. Neither would she make it easy for him.

  “I think it would be best if you followed m
e to San Diego. I’ll return the rental car and, if you have time, I would like to stop by the barracks and get the few things I’ve accumulated over the past two weeks...”

  Two weeks.

  “Did you say two weeks?” she asked. Officer Hall had said he’d been back a “short time.” She’d assumed days.

  “I crawled out of the desert a little over two weeks ago, yes.”

  “How little?” He must think her nuts, standing there grilling him like the exact moment mattered.

  But it did. Had she been inseminated with his sperm the same day he’d officially made it back to them?

  “It was a Wednesday. A little over two weeks ago.”

  The exact same day.

  It was a sign. Had to be. She just had to hold on. To serve him as he’d served his country. Life was happening as it was meant to. Winston was going to need a miracle to heal. And the very day he’d escaped, she’d taken the step to create his miracle.

  He continued to assess her. She wanted to tell him. Was bursting with their news. But something told her to keep her counsel for the moment. At least until she got him officially out of San Diego.

  And had a chance to speak with the chaplain, or whoever else she might refer.

  “You want to change before we go?” she asked him. “You used to hate being in uniform on Sundays at home.”

  He didn’t even glance toward his side of the closet before he shook his head.

  “Let’s go then.” She couldn’t get this chore done fast enough. She needed him moved back in, even if that only meant a couple of sacks in the back of her car.

  Or his. An idea occurred to her. “Let’s take your car,” she told him. “I’ve been taking it out regularly, keeping it serviced. And since you’ll be driving us back...”

  He loved his car—an old Camaro he’d restored while they were in college.

  He might have hesitated, but she couldn’t be sure. She was busy leading the way. Out of their bedroom and down the hall.

  “Emily.”

  Her name on his lips. In his voice. Lovely chills ran through her. She turned.

  “If there’s anything you want or need to know, anytime—if you ask, I’ll answer honestly. If I can.”

  If I can. There could be military implications there. Things he wasn’t at liberty to say. Or maybe he was telling her there were things he couldn’t bring himself to talk about.

  Either way, she had a feeling what he needed from her most, whether he’d admit it or not, was her patience.

  “And that goes both ways,” she told him. “Anything you ask, I’ll answer honestly.” It got quiet between them. Not awkwardly, just like it mattered. Like they’d somehow just repeated vows they’d taken years before. When they’d promised never to lie to each other. She’d never doubted that those vows still lived.

  Obviously, he had.

  Not sure what to make of that, Emily filed the moment away. She had a feeling that that mental file drawer was going to be growing in the coming days.

  And even that knowledge didn’t steal her joy.

  Winston was home!

  Chapter Seven

  Winston almost took Emily up on her offer to drive the rental, leaving the Camaro for him. The sight of the Glacier Blue beauty with the dark blue interior had him gravitating toward it. Just to take a look. He’d put way too much time and money into the machine. Had given importance to it that hadn’t mattered.

  At least he’d done a good job.

  “You sure you don’t want to drive it?” Emily, in tight white capris, a loose black tank and a pair of black jeweled flip-flops, asked. She had her own set of keys in her hand. He’d pocketed the ones she’d given him.

  “You’re not listed on the rental contract,” he said, and climbed behind the wheel of the nondescript four-door sedan.

  Duty was what mattered. Serving his country. Breaking the law, even a rental contract law, was not in the plan.

  The plan.

  It was taking a major detour. But at least it was there. Telling Emily that they weren’t going to work, that her only way to happiness was apart from him, even that he’d betrayed her, wasn’t going to help him reach the goal. Two seconds in her presence and he’d known that. Like his superiors, she’d forgive him anything, put it down to the untenable situation, see the hero in him. She still believed.

  The only way to get the truth through to her was to show it to her, directly and unflinchingly, day by day. There’d be painful moments, but they’d fade in time. When she was away and free and living with the happiness she deserved.

  His focus had to be on keeping the end in mind.

  He led the way to San Diego, watching his rearview mirror and adjusting his speed and turns as needed to allow Emily to stay behind him. And after he dropped off the car, he told her she could drive the short distance from the rental office to the barracks, then he got in on the passenger side, handing her his ID to show at the gate.

  So, yeah, the car smelled...good. Familiar. His body recognized the seat’s contour. He could almost feel the leather steering wheel cover beneath his grip. He turned the old but shiny crank to lower the window. Felt the power beneath him as Emily pulled into traffic.

  For a second, life felt good.

  He was definitely going to keep the car.

  * * *

  As badly as Emily wanted to traipse right beside Winston to collect his things, she stayed with the car. She had to be able to let him out of her sight.

  Needed to give him space.

  She didn’t need professionals to tell her either of those things. She was getting cues from him. She’d always known him that well.

  And he, her.

  It was one of the things that had built such intrinsic trust between them from the very beginning—this ability to read the other. To just know. They’d been fourteen, freshmen in high school, when they’d run into each other rushing to get into the building and out of the rain. She’d just had a fight with her brother. Her irritating sibling had just turned sixteen and with his driver’s license he’d also been given the responsibility for driving her to school. That day, he’d refused to drop her off on her side of the building because in those days he’d refused to do anything she’d asked. He’d ruled. Winston had been late because his mom and dad had had a fight and he’d stayed to referee.

  They’d both been bothered by more than the rain. He’d made a joke about it. About rain being fitting for the morning. Knowing she’d agree. And then asked if she wanted to meet him at lunch to see if either of their days had gotten any better.

  Such a small thing. But the beginning of the rest of her life. The best part of her life.

  Sitting in the passenger side of his Camaro, awaiting his return, she acknowledged to herself that their current situation wasn’t perfect. Or even remotely like anything she’d imagined during the two years of waiting for him to return to her. She hurt for him. Worried for him. And yet...her spirit soared. They could deal with whatever was to come. She had no doubts there. As long as they were together, they’d be fine.

  And the baby! She burst with the need to tell him. And yet sensed that the time wasn’t right. Obviously, whatever had happened to her beloved husband had affected him emotionally. He’d always been such a sensitive guy. As strong as they came. Able and willing to do whatever it took to get a job done. And yet...his heart had been huge. And wide open to her.

  So they had work to do. The enemy had closed his heart’s door. Her job was to help him open it. Yeah, maybe it was going to take a miracle.

  She sat there alone in the car grinning like an idiot.

  Because she was carrying that miracle.

  * * *

  Platitudes, “you got everything?” “yes,” “you need to stop anywhere else?” “no,” filled the first part of the drive as they left San Diego. Two years drivi
ng alone and yet Emily felt completely natural in the passenger seat while he drove the car that had been sitting without him for so long.

  Surreal, sure. But right.

  “I thought I’d make meat loaf for dinner,” she said as they pulled onto the highway that would take them north toward home.

  He nodded. Adjusted his seat. Turned the ancient radio on and then back off again.

  She suggested a stop at a big-box store so he could get that toothbrush, anything else he needed, and she could get some ground beef. He was fine with that, named a store closer to Marie Cove so the meat wouldn’t spoil. And then he was silent again.

  So silent.

  Shutting her out? Or just shut in?

  “I thought I’d take the day off tomorrow,” she offered another five minutes down the road. “We could drive down to the beach. Or hike the cliffs above the beach in town.” It was more a walking path than anything, but they used to hang out up there, watch the ocean, solidify their future.

  “I have meetings at the base all day tomorrow.”

  Glancing at him, she frowned. Did he really? “I thought you were on a six-month leave.” Officer Hall had said something about that before he’d left the day before.

  “I’m not on active duty, but I have duties. Information to convey.”

  Stifling the first flood of feeling that came up—resentment against the job that had already taken so much of him from her—she reminded herself that Winston loved the navy. He needed to serve.

  And it was probably good for him to have a normal routine. Sitting around doing nothing had never been his way. And probably not good for someone who had two years’ worth of bad memories to purge.

  Settling back in her seat, her head against the rest, she spent the next half hour telling him about the accounts she was working on, about people who’d come and gone from the firm where she worked, giving him updates on those he’d known.

  He didn’t seem to mind.

  * * *

  What in the hell was he going to do about bedtime? With no intention of resuming married life with Emily, he couldn’t just go climb into bed with her.