The Texas Soldier's Son

“I’m sure you know my husband, Bill Mabry, recently passed away. I need to see about selecting his casket and purchasing a burial plot.”

Confusion crossed his face. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand. Dan and Theresa Mabry have already made all the selections. He’s going to be interred in the Mabry family plot.”

Made all the selections. Without her. One more slap in the face. “I’m his widow,” she began. “I should have been consulted.”

Then, as he stumbled all over himself trying to explain what had happened, she realized this was okay. All of it. Bill’s parents had adored their only son and mourned him, definitely far more than she did. If they knew his true character, their love for him superceded all that.

She, on the other hand, had only been married to him for one year. He’d bullied and abused her, regarded her as a possession rather than an equal partner, and in her heart of hearts, she felt relief rather than sorrow.

“Thank you very much,” she said, interrupting him. “I assume they’ve also handled the obituary?”

At his nod, she exhaled. “Do you happen to have anything printed out yet?”

“We do. We do. Let me get you a copy.” He scurried out of the room. When he returned, he handed her a sealed envelope. “Everything is in here. The casket, the burial plot number and a map to the area, and information on the service.” He took a deep breath and adjusted his tie. “I do apologize for not realizing we should have contacted you. I assumed you were too grief stricken to attend any planning sessions.”

She let that one go. Thanking him, she once again picked up Jacob’s carrier and turned to go.

When she lifted him up to buckle the carrier into the backseat, she realized his little face was bright red. His eyes were closed, and she did a panicked test, wetting her finger and placing it under his nose to make sure he was still breathing.

The instant she did this, he began flailing his arms about and let out a loud cry. Once he got started, his crying increased in volume and intensity, letting her know something was very wrong.

She took him out of the carrier and checked his diaper, finding it dry. No amount of rocking or singing to him made any difference. When a bubbling rash of red welts appeared on his face and arms, she knew something was drastically wrong. Buckling him back into the carrier while he still wailed, she jumped into the car and drove straight for the hospital emergency room.

Chapter 4

Kyle finished unpacking his groceries, then stood back and eyed his full refrigerator. He knew he should feel some sort of satisfaction at having successfully begun his journey toward living on his own out of the military, but the best he could summon up was exhaustion.

His doorbell rang. A uniformed deputy stood outside. What now?

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“We have a warrant to search the premises,” the deputy said, handing him an envelope. “Please step aside.”

Stunned, Kyle didn’t move. “Search for what? Don’t I have the right to know what it is I’ve supposedly done?”

“It’s all in the warrant, sir.” Motioning to another uniformed officer, the deputy let his hand hover near his holstered weapon. “Now, please. Step aside.”

With a shrug, Kyle did as he was told.

While the two officers searched his small rental home—which wouldn’t take them very long since Kyle had very few belongings and only the basic furniture that had come with the house—Kyle read the search warrant. The reason given, and approved by a judge, was listed as Bill Mabry’s murder.

Which made absolutely zero sense. Kyle hadn’t even been in town when the guy had died.

Aware that arguing with the deputies wouldn’t change anything, he wandered out to his small back deck to wait until they’d finished their search. He only hoped they didn’t trash the place too badly.

“Sir?” The urgent tone of the deputy’s voice had him jumping to his feet. “Could you come in here please?”

Kyle hurried inside. The two deputies stood near his gun safe, one of the few purchases he’d made before driving back to Anniversary.

“Could you open this for us?”

He wondered if he could refuse. Probably not. A search warrant would definitely include firearms. Heaving a sigh, he dialed in the combination for the lock and opened it. He let the door swing wide and took a step back. “Please handle with care,” he said. “Those pieces were chosen carefully and I can’t afford to replace them.”

To his eternal relief, they treated his small gun collection with respect. All of his weapons were clean and well taken care of, something he’d learned to do while in the army.

“Great condition,” one of the deputies commented.

“And none of them have recently been fired,” said the other.

Kyle simply waited until they’d finished. When they moved away from the safe, he closed the door and locked it. “Anything else you need?” he asked.

“No. I think we’re done.” The two men left.

Once he’d watched them drive away, he inspected his living space. They’d been thorough, he saw, straightening a sofa cushion. But not unnecessarily messy. In fact, if he weren’t so meticulous about his home, he wouldn’t have even known it had been searched.

He had to wonder why anyone could possibly believe he’d been involved in the murder of a man he hadn’t even known. Simply because he’d visited Nicole? Did that mean she was under some sort of surveillance? Or were they probing her past for any kind of connection that might have compelled her to kill her husband?

Her husband. The words stuck in his craw. It was always supposed to be the two of them—Kyle and Nicole. Anyone who’d known them prior to one year ago would understand this. And might suspect that underneath the thin veneer of civility, strong emotions swirled and seethed.

It wouldn’t be too great of a leap of faith to wonder if he had returned home to Anniversary to find his woman married to another man, whom he’d killed in a fit of jealously. Kyle supposed he ought to thank his lucky stars that the timing was all wrong. The day Bill Mabry had died, Kyle had been in Mississippi. He had motel receipts to prove it. And Nicole had still believed him to be dead.

The sheriff had his deputies barking up the wrong tree.

His cell phone rang. “Kyle, it’s Bret. I’m at the hospital ER with Heather. She’s fine—it was false labor so we’re heading back home. I thought you might want to know I saw Nicole come in with her baby.” He paused. “If I’m bothering you, I’m sorry. I don’t know how things are between the two of you. But from what I can tell, Nicole is all alone. If you’re truly friends, I think she could use your help. Especially if something happens to the baby.”

The baby. Possibly his son. Though his gut clenched, Kyle forced himself to breathe deeply and calmly. “What happened? Was there some sort of an accident?”

“No idea. But judging from the way they rushed her and little Jacob into the back, he’s in bad shape.”

“Thanks for letting me know,” Kyle said, and ended the call. He wasn’t a hundred percent sure why exactly Bret had decided to call him, but figured his old friend would guess Kyle still hadn’t sorted out his feelings about Nicole.

And the baby. Who might or might not really be his son.

Snatching up his car keys, Kyle headed to the hospital. He didn’t bother analyzing why. He just knew he had to go. Whether or not Nicole wanted him there.

* * *

By the time Nicole had pulled up in front of the emergency room, Jacob had begun wheezing, as if he couldn’t suck in air.

Forcing down the panic, she’d managed to unbuckle him from his infant carrier, snatch him up and run into the ER, shouting for help. The triage nurse had taken one look at Jacob and paged for help.

She’d hustled Nicole through the double doors into the actual ER and a nurse came running. Nicole had handed over her precious baby and the nurse hustled him into a room, Nicole right on her heels.

Now someone came and asked for her insurance card, which she handed over. The doctor appeared, helping the nurse get Jacob’s clothing off, including his diaper. “Nurse,” the doctor ordered. “Use Broselow Tape to quickly get his weight and dose out epi based on that.”

As the nurse hurriedly complied, Jacob wheezed, his eyes huge, his face red with welts. He alternated between trying to breathe and attempting to cry. Frantic to help him any way she could, she watched the doctor as he accepted the syringe and injected it into Jacob’s thigh. “It’s epinephrine,” he told Nicole. “The nurse will start him on an IV with Benadryl and steroids.”

Terrified, Nicole nodded. While the nurse bustled around, carefully inserting an IV in Jacob’s wrist, the doctor turned his attention back to the infant, who squirmed and still appeared to be having a hard time breathing. His struggle broke Nicole’s heart. She realized she’d never truly known abject terror until this moment.

“Help him, please,” she implored the doctor.

“We’re doing everything we can,” he responded. “Look. He’s breathing better. And those hives will subside, too.”

Relieved, she clutched the side of the hospital bed to keep her knees from giving out.

“It’s already working, ma’am,” the nurse said, her tone soothing. “Look at him. We’ll have him back to normal soon.”

“Thank goodness,” Nicole said, swaying with relief.

“Was he bitten by something?” the doctor asked Nicole, his voice curt, all of his focus still on Jacob. “Or did you give him something different—formula or juice? This is definitely an allergic reaction.”

“There’s been no change in his diet. As for a bite, I don’t know,” she answered. “One minute, he cried out, then the hives appeared.”

“Sounds like a bee sting,” the doctor said. “Let me see if I can find the stinger.” He began a thorough search of Jacob’s skin, which was still covered in welts.

Careful to keep out of both the doctor’s and the nurse’s way, Nicole moved as close as she could to her baby. To her immense relief, Jacob’s wheezing disappeared. Once he could breathe again, he began crying, a confused and hurt wail that tore at her heart. She ached to gather him up and hold him close to her, but the ER doctor was busy inspecting him, searching for a sting or bite mark.

While he did this, the nurse finished hooking Jacob up to the machines. Gradually, his wailing turned into sniffles, and then little snuffling sounds. He latched his little hand on to her finger, holding on tightly. Chest tight with love, she gazed at her baby boy, aware she’d never survive losing him.

“Here it is,” the doctor pronounced, glancing up at her and adjusting his glasses with one finger. “This looks like either a wasp or a bee sting. I’ve removed the stinger. The meds are working and I think he’s going to be just fine.”

“Oh, thank you so much,” Nicole said. She wanted to hug the man. And the nurse too. “Can I take him home now?”

“Not yet. We’re going to have to keep an eye on him for several hours.”

Puzzled, she frowned. “Why?”

“We need to monitor his heart due to the epinephrine. We also need to make sure he doesn’t have a rebound reaction once the epi wears off. Then, if all looks good, you can both go home.”

Grateful, she nodded. “I understand.”

“Good.” The doctor wrote something in the chart, handed it to the nurse and left the room.

“You can hold him now,” the nurse told her. “Just be careful of the IV and the other wires. Press the call button if you need anything. We’ll be checking on you periodically.”

Once the nurse had gone, Nicole carefully reached for Jacob. As soon as she had him in her arms, she felt the last bit of tension leave his tiny body. She climbed up to sit on his hospital bed, careful of all the apparatus, and held him close. Singing soft, she rocked him to sleep.

When the door swung open again about twenty minutes later, she looked up with a smile, assuming either the nurse or doctor had returned. Instead, Kyle stood framed in the doorway, his gaze locking on hers.

She froze, not sure what to think or say. He came into the room, closed the door carefully and quietly behind him.

“Is he all right?” he asked, his voice pitched low.

Slowly, she nodded. “I think so. Right now, they want us to stay so they can monitor him.”

“What happened?”

Instead of answering his question, she frowned at him. “Why are you here?”

“One of my friends happened to see you come in and called me.” He took a seat in the chair next to the bed. “I came by because...” He paused. “I don’t know why I’m here. I thought maybe you could use a friend right now.”

Touched despite herself, she blinked back tears. Which infuriated her. She would not cry in front of him. Never again. “Is that what you are?” She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice. “Because you sure didn’t act like it earlier.”

In her arms, Jacob stirred. Instantly, she began making soothing sounds and rocking him again. Once he’d settled back into sleep, she looked up and met Kyle’s intense gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I was shocked. And, I’ll admit, hurt. I’ve had some time to think about what you said.”

Unsure whether or not to be appeased, she finally nodded. “You can do a DNA test, you know. It’s a simple thing to prove or disprove, these days.”

“I know it is.” He paused, eyeing her sleeping son. “Tell me, does he have green eyes?”

“He’s only three months old,” she pointed out. “Babies are usually born with light-colored eyes. Around six to nine months old is when it’s easier to predict their final color. I’m hoping he gets your green eyes. But it’s too early to tell.”

“I see.” He leaned closer, resting his elbow on the edge of the bed near her knee. “Are you going to tell me what brought you here?”

She told him what had happened and what the doctor had said.

“He’s allergic to bee stings?” he repeated, his expression shocked.

“Yep. Like you were as a kid. I have to find out if I need to keep an EpiPen or something with me at all times.”

“I still am.” His voice husky, he shook his head. “Allergic to bees. Stuff like that never goes away.”

Chest tight, heart aching, she let her gaze roam over him. He had some new lines on his face, some wear and tear from whatever had happened to him in Afghanistan. He looked older, wearier, almost battle-hardened, yet he was still the tall broad-shouldered man with the bright green eyes she’d once loved.

How badly she wished they could go back in time and change some of the choices they’d made. She wouldn’t have let him join the army, for one. They should have taken a chance on the future with each other, even if they were too young and broke to know better. Getting pregnant with Jacob was something she’d never give up, not for anything in the world, but how much sweeter those nine months would have been with Kyle by her side.

Since she’d learned the hard way that dwelling on the past accomplished nothing, she forced those thoughts away and focused on the here and now.

“What happened to your husband?” he asked. “I’m sorry—I know that’s a personal question, but since sheriff’s deputies showed up at my house with a search warrant earlier, I figure I have a right to know.”

“A search warrant?” Aware her mouth had fallen open, she closed it, continuing to rock her son so he wouldn’t sense her rising agitation. “Why on earth would they think you had anything to do with Bill’s death?”

“That’s what I’m hoping you could tell me?”

Jacob stirred in her arms, making that little mewling sound he sometimes made to indicate his hunger. He opened his eyes and nuzzled her arm, seeking his meal. A rush of milk coming in made her breast tingle. She grabbed the baby blanket she’d wrapped around her son earlier and arranged it so she could nurse him.

Once little Jacob was happily drinking, she looked at Kyle and shook her head. “I’d be happy to tell you about it, but not here. Right now I just want Jacob to be released so I can take him home.”

Though he nodded, she could tell from the tightness in his jaw that he didn’t care for her response.

The nurse came in then, smiling. “Well, hello there,” she said. “I’m glad Daddy got to come in too. I just wanted to stop by and let you know that so far, everything is looking good. We should be able to discharge you soon.”

Daddy. The word brought a lump to her throat.

Nicole glanced at the clock on the wall. Ninety minutes had passed. “Thank you.”

Instead of leaving, the nurse went over to check on Jacob. Kyle pushed to his feet, moving out of the way and going to stand near the doorway. Nicole couldn’t help but notice how he filled up the room with his sheer size and masculine presence. Evidently the nurse noticed as well, rolling her eyes good-naturedly at Nicole, as if to say Men!

“I hope it’s okay that I fed him,” Nicole said. “He was hungry.”

The nurse chuckled. “I can see that. Nothing has changed as far as his vitals, so let me go round up the doctor and get him to sign the form so you can all go home.”

* * *

Watching Nicole give the baby nourishment again stirred up a rush of complicated emotions. Kyle wasn’t certain of the etiquette—should he look away—but Nicole’s quiet competence and the fact that she kept herself covered put him at ease.

Though he tried unobtrusively to study Jacob, looking for some sort of resemblance, the infant looked like an infant. He supposed three months might be too young for the baby to start showing his parents’ features.

Right now, it didn’t really matter. He believed Nicole. After all, she had no real reason to lie to him. Especially since Jacob’s parentage could be easily proven with a simple DNA test.

Which meant Kyle had a son. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that yet. Children with Nicole had always been part of his long-range plans, but her marriage to another man sent those completely out the window. She’d sworn to wait for him and damned if she hadn’t gotten married a month after he’d been erroneously declared dead. Kyle knew he could never get past that huge betrayal.

In addition, she’d apparently passed Jacob off as Bill Mabry’s child. This both infuriated him and saddened him. Clearly, he hadn’t known Nicole as well as he’d believed.

Getting Jacob released to leave took a lot longer than he’d thought. The way the nurse had talked, the doctor would sign some paper and that was that. He figured it’d take a couple of minutes, but when a half hour turned into forty-five, he could barely keep his frustration under control.

To make matters worse, someone dropped something metal out in the hall, and Kyle found himself on the floor, in full defensive cover position. While at Walter Reed hospital, they’d told him he’d need therapy to get help with his PTSD. He’d have to find someone local, once he got settled in.

Slowly, he got to his feet. Stone-faced, he hoped his expression hadn’t revealed his embarrassment, but all of Nicole’s attention was focused on her baby. As if she hadn’t even noticed. He had a sneaking suspicion she was doing this to spare his feelings, but couldn’t ask her.

Finally, after nearly an hour had passed, the nurse returned, along with the doctor. They gave Nicole instructions, what to watch for, that sort of thing, and then informed her she could go.

He followed her outside. When she reached her car, a late model shiny black BMW, she turned to face him. “I know we need to talk,” she began. “But I’m exhausted and really would like to go home and get some rest. Let’s plan on meeting up some time tomorrow.”

“Okay.” He pulled out his phone. “What’s your number?”

She gave it to him and he entered it into his contacts. “I’ll text you mine,” he said.

“Thank you.” She unlocked her car.

Feeling out of sorts, he watched her while she buckled little Jacob into his infant carrier. She barely looked at Kyle once she’d done that, getting into the driver’s side, starting the engine and buckling herself in. Finally, she waved before driving away.

Fool that he was, he watched her go and wondered how he could both love and hate someone at the same time.

The next morning, while he drank a cup of strong black coffee made in his new coffeepot, he texted Nicole his number. Thirty minutes later, she texted back, asking him if he had some free time to sit down and talk. She’d prefer to come to his place. When he asked why, she texted that she had a strong suspicion someone was watching her house.

He gave her the address and told her to come over in about an hour. That’d give him time to shower and get dressed.

Exactly fifty-nine minutes later, the black BMW pulled up in front of his little house. He watched from the front window, keeping his eye on the street so he could see if she’d been followed.

When no other vehicle showed up, he opened his front door and went out to help her. She unlocked the trunk, asking him if he’d mind getting the portable Pack n’ Play. While he wrestled this out onto the sidewalk, she handled the baby and a large diaper bag.

Inside the house, he set down the contraption in the middle of the living room. To his surprise, once he opened it, the thing practically set itself up.

“Thank you.” Nicole smiled at him, and the entire world shifted.

He blinked, turning away until he could ground himself back in reality. “Would you like something to drink?” he asked, his voice gruffer than he intended.

Barely looking up from getting her baby settled, she responded. “Water would be great.”

Listen to them. Talking in careful platitudes as if they were complete strangers. In a way, they actually were.

Except that only one year—one stinking year—had passed since he’d kissed her goodbye and gone off to serve his country. How could so much have changed in such a short period of time?

But it had. Returning with two bottled waters, he handed one to her before taking a seat in the armchair, leaving the entire couch for her.

“Nice place,” she commented, glancing around the small room.

“Yours is much nicer,” he pointed out. Not to be cruel, but because it was. But her smile faltered and for one second she looked sad.

But then she lifted her chin and willed herself out of it. “Thank you. It isn’t what I would have chosen, but it’s a decent house.”

Decent.

A flash of anger ripped through him. He realized he couldn’t just sit there and act as if they were casual acquaintances, like nothing had ever happened between them. As though she hadn’t been his entire reason for living.

“I can’t do this,” he growled. “I know you’ve moved on—I get it. For you, it’s been a long time. For me, it feels like it was just yesterday when you kissed me and told me you’d love me forever.”

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