Laura Altom - Her Military Man

“Mom’s your biggest fan. In the time I’ve sat around here healing, I’ve heard enough of your show to realize you’re a more effective sleep aid than a case of NyQuil.”

Scowling, shaking her head, she said, “Apparently, the years we’ve been apart haven’t been kind. They’ve turned you into a jerk.”

Bracing his hands on the rocker’s arms, Garret sprang to his feet, too late remembering he just happened to be short one leg, leaving him wobbling. Reaching for support in the form of soft curves.

Must’ve been instinct that had her reaching out to help, because judging by her forked tongue, she didn’t hold him in high regard. Tsk-tsking, he shook his head. “You must not be too ferocious, otherwise, you’d have let me fall.”

After swiftly releasing him, then delivering one last glare, she turned, marching across the porch and down the stairs.

When she’d reached the brick sidewalk, he called, “After what you did—sleeping with my best friend, having his kid—it’ll be a cold day in hell before I help you, Connie.”

Her sexy derriere still to him, she froze.

“You and Nathan…”

That made her spin back around, blue eyes flashing fire. “That part of my life’s ancient history.”

Scratching his jaw, he chuckled.

“Notice, I’m not laughing,” she said.

As if he cared.

“Garret, come on. Lose the chip on your shoulder. What happened with Nathan might as well be a million years ago. I need this job and, according to my boss, getting you in the studio is the only way I get to keep it.”

Arms crossed while he leaned against a porch post, he said, “No.”

“You’ve changed,” she said, scavenging through a bedraggled black leather purse, then drawing out keys. “I used to carry a soft spot for you, asking for your safekeeping every night in my prayers, but no more. After turning down my request without even considering it, for all I care, the devil can have you.”

While she stormed across the driveway, this time apparently not caring if gravel gnawed her shoes, Garret laughed. Ironic how he’d just been lamenting that he never had any fun, when the best entertainment he’d had in years had just magically appeared.

Tottering inside for that beer, taking a moment in the living room to let his eyes adjust from bright sun to gloom, Garret had to wonder himself what’d led him to flat-out turn her down.

Truth? Lovely though Constance still was, he couldn’t stand the sight of her. In his whole life, no one had ever done him so wrong. He’d loved her. Believed with everything in him she’d loved him, too. He shouldn’t have even been listening to her stupid show, but with his mom blaring it every afternoon, Constance’s raspy bedroom voice was hard to ignore.

Dammit, he thought, hobbling into the kitchen, yanking open the fridge. Cool air washed over him, cleansing the heat just looking at her had brought on. From the moment Constance had stepped those long, long legs up onto his mama’s porch, he’d been back to exorcising demons. Rehashing what might’ve been.

Popping the top on a longneck Coors, relishing that first endless swig, Garret sadly came to grips with the fact that no matter how hard he’d tried, no woman had ever done it for him like her.

There. He’d admitted it.

And fire hadn’t fallen from the sky.

The world wasn’t about to end.

Only the very notion was nuts. In his line of work, gorgeous women came on to him every time he came up for air. But while a surprising number of his friends had snagged those women, then married them and the whole nine yards, Garret wanted no part of it. If he didn’t know better, he’d say whatever happened between him and Constance had been like slow-acting relationship poison. Oh, make no mistake, he loved women in all shapes and sizes, but as far as surrendering his heart and soul to one?

After another swig of beer, he chuckled. He’d already tried that and it hadn’t worked out.

“LONG TIME NO SEE.”

From her place in the feed store’s lengthy Saturday-afternoon line, Constance jumped, turning to see what oddly familiar-sounding man had crooned the words in her right ear. “You,” she said, eyeing Garret.

“Not happy to meet again?” he asked. Even favoring one leg, he’d managed to sling a fifty-pound feed bag over his shoulder. He wore khaki cargo pants and another camo-green T-shirt that clung to his chest the way she used to.

She flashed him a half smile, wishing that two years earlier when Lindsay had asked for a live bunny for Easter, she’d said no. If she had, she wouldn’t now be stuck in line waiting to pay for bunny chow.

“Missed me that much, have you?” His words were spoken low enough that only she could hear over the bustling crowd of at least fifteen talkative old geezers and two crying babies. A blaring Conway Twitty song and a baying hound out in the bed of Tom Neilson’s truck added to the chaos.

Shoulders straight, she said, “I have nothing to say to you.”

“Funny, seeing how there’s plenty I’d like to say to you.” He followed her when it came time to move up in line. “Town gossip says your boss is out of town and you need me to agree to your request before he gets back. A million years ago, I’d’ve done damn near anything for you. Now…” He looked her up and down, his gaze so hot it left her chilled. “I’m not as charitable.”

She made the mistake of glancing over her shoulder to gape, only to catch him wink. From there on out, she kept her mouth shut and carefully stared straight ahead.

Who’d told Garret Felix had left?

Oh, who was she kidding? In a town the size of Mule Shoe, Felix and his wife attending a Vegas broadcasting convention was big news.

They moved up in line again, only instead of Garret vanishing from her world and prospering elsewhere, as per Connie’s wishes, he doggedly kept behind her. Did he have to smell so good? Like earth and wind and sweat and sea—which was stupid, really, seeing how smack-dab in the center of Oklahoma, there wasn’t a whole lot of sea in sight!

“Hey, Miss Manners,” Harvey, the store owner and checkout clerk, called when mercifully, it was Constance’s turn at the register. “How’s Lindsay’s bunny brigade doing? She ever unload all those babies?”

“She, um, sure did—all but one she couldn’t bear to part with.”

“Yep,” he said with a friendly chuckle. “Reminds me of my own girls. Just be grateful your little one doesn’t have an affinity for horses. Now there’s some real money.”

“Don’t I know it,” Constance said, pulling out her wallet, thankful not only that her daughter preferred small livestock, but that she was almost free of Garret.

Harvey finished ringing up Lindsay’s Vitakraft Rabbit Menu and Funny Bunny Fruit Bites, then said, “That’ll be $14.68.”

She opened her wallet, only to find herself short the $4.68. “Um…” Something would have to go back. She’d thought she still had fifteen left from buying groceries that morning, but she’d forgotten she’d had to buy toothpaste and floss, which had forced her to make a last-minute stop at the drugstore. Eyeing the bunny treats, she picked up the brightly colored bag. “Without these, how much?”

“Here,” Garret said, slapping a five on the counter.

“Thank you, but no,” Constance said, as if his money were contaminated, plucking it up with her thumb and forefinger, then turning to hold it out to him.

“Oh, come on,” he said. “My money’s just as good as anyone else’s. And anyway, I’m not buying that rabbit candy for you, but your kid.”

“She doesn’t need your charity.”

“Look,” Garret said under his breath, leaning forward to talk in her ear. “Just because you and I have issues, don’t punish her. I like kids. Take the money.”

Harvey stood staring, then put his fingers to his lips and nodded. “I know you. You’re Ben Underwood’s boy. Aren’t you a Navy SEAL?”

“Yessir.”

“I’ll be damned. Shoot, your money’s no good here, son. Constance, you just run on along, and take those treats with you. I know times are tough, so you tell that little angel of yours to stop by after school Monday and she can sweep the back room to pay for this.”

“Th-thank you,” she said, hustling to remove not just her purchases but herself. “I’ll be sure Lindsay’s here.”

“Sounds real good,” Harvey said with a wave before turning back to Garret. “Son, it’s good to have you home. And just as soon as this line clears out, how about us swapping stories? If you remember, I put time in myself back in ’44 and ’45. I was there when we crossed the Rhine. And did you know…”

Outside, safe in bright sun, Constance dared to breathe.

It’d been bad enough running into Garret like that, but then running out of money, and Garret offering to buy a gift for their daughter.

Their daughter…

Hands shaking so badly she could hardly open the door of her tan ’92 Civic, let alone ease the keys into the ignition once she’d set her purchases on the passenger side, Constance forced air into her lungs. All those years ago she’d made her bed the second she’d allowed Garret into it.

Leaning forward, she dropped her head against the steering wheel, praying Harvey kept Garret occupied with war stories for at least fifteen to twenty minutes.

How had her life come to this?

Constantly wondering if someday Garret would tire of playing G.I. Joe, then swoop in to take the only thing in her life worth having—her precious little girl—was Constance’s worst nightmare. The mere thought of Lindsay going through the same hell she had as a child in being torn between two parents was inconceivable. Not to mention a huge part of the reason that, to this day, Constance had so closely guarded her secret.

The air in the car was stiflingly hot, even with the windows down; the air-conditioning had gone out last summer. Over the winter, she’d hoped to find funds to fix it, but then the house’s hot water heater had died, so who knew when she’d have cash for luxuries like cool air?

Nathan, her ex-husband but continued confidant and close friend, had on numerous occasions offered to loan her money or just outright pay for whatever she or Lindsay had needed, but with each new offer, she’d politely but firmly turned him down. He’d been a doll all those years ago to help her out of what at the time had seemed an insurmountable problem. Never did she want to burden him again.

A decade ago, the three of them—Garret, Nathan and she—had been great friends. Then she and Garret moved beyond friendship. Suddenly, pregnant, scared and refusing to bog down Garret’s life by telling him of the baby, she’d confided in Nathan, hoping he’d have suggestions for what she should do. Never had she expected him to propose marriage!

Though her initial reaction had been a swift hug and an equally speedy refusal, he’d explained that as a lifelong friend, he loved Garret, too. He wanted him to follow his dreams. Garret was too young to be burdened with a kid. When Constance had pointed out so was Nathan, he’d brought up the practical matter of his healthy trust fund. A baby and wife would be no financial burden. As for the demands on his time, he’d begged her to let him do this. Not just as a favor to her, but to Garret. Years later Nathan had admitted he loved her—had always loved her. He’d hoped she’d feel the same, but how could she when Garret had already claimed her heart?

Of course, in retrospect, Constance saw the mistake she’d made in keeping Lindsay from Garret all these years. But seeing a problem and knowing how to fix it were two different things.