The SEAL's Miracle Baby

She welcomed the breeze. Fresh air had never hurt a situation.

“Let’s just get this over with.”

Now Jessie needed an antacid. Grady’s clipped tone alerted her to the fact that for him, there was no statute of limitations on hurt feelings. She’d hoped to at least pass the time with small talk, but it looked as though the only thing small in this car was Grady’s capacity for forgiveness.

Chapter Four

Grady was none too happy to find himself alone with Jessie. Even if the SUV her mom used for the day care smelled like a cross between Cheerios and crayons, Jessie’s faint strawberry lotion wreathed him in familiar scent. The fact that after all these years he still remembered that sort of detail about her only made his heart ache more.

Trying to play it cool, as if being next to her wasn’t killing him—he focused on driving along the five-mile stretch of blacktop country lane.

“How do you—”

“I take it—”

When they both talked at the same time, they laughed. For that instant, laughter was a good icebreaker, and loosened the knot between his shoulders. But then he remembered who he was dealing with—the woman who’d broken his heart. The returning tension hit like a two-by-four.

“You go first.” Jessie angled on her seat. “What were you about to say?”

“Judging by the car, and the Toddler Time logo on the doors, your mom still runs her day care?”

“Yep. Can you believe she’s also mayor?”

“Mom told me. How did that even happen?” As long as he’d been alive, the Rock Bluff political climate had been more of an old boys’ club. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for her, but was surprised.”

“Oh—I know. She ran on a lark. Her gardening club got bees in their bonnets about the old mayor—remember Fred Holscomb?”

“Sure. He’d been in office for, what? Like fifteen years?”

“Yep. Well, Mom’s club went before the city council with a proposal to beautify downtown—you know, adding things like hanging baskets of petunias to light posts and parking a few ornamental trees in fancy planters.”

“Sounds doable.”

“That’s what her club thought—especially since they’d raised the funding to make it happen. So they’re at the meeting, and all the ladies brought in cookies and brownies and Opal Mayville’s famous lemon bars for the council, when Fred starts spouting about what a pain his wife’s front porch flowers are, and how he gets sick of watering, and how, come August, everything’s just gonna burn up and die in the heat, so why even bother trying to plant anything? If it were up to him, the world would be a much better place covered in nice, low-maintenance concrete.”

“He really said that right in front of your mom?” Turning onto Old Barnsdale Road, Grady winced at the thought of the female wrath that opinion had no doubt raised.

“Yes, he did. Well, the meetings are televised on the new public-access channel a couple of high school kids put together, and the way Mom laid into him was epic. When he tossed out the challenge that if she thought she could do a better job as mayor, he’d darn well like seeing her try, she took him up on his offer and never looked back. Last November, after the garden club and quilting club and just about every other women’s group you can think of adopted her campaign, then voted in record numbers, she won in a landslide.”

“Damn...” On the main highway, Grady dodged debris piles. “Good for her. How’s she doing?”

“She’s holding her own.” Jessie’s tone held a note of pride. “For the first time since Carter was president, Rock Bluff has a balanced budget, and the firemen and police are thrilled with the change, because they never run out of baked goods for their break rooms.”

“Nice.” In the heart of the storm’s devastation, National Guard floodlights lit the way for dozer operators to work through the night. “So how does she have time for matchmaking and running her town and business?”

Jessie laughed. “Great question.”

They passed through the worst-hit area in somber silence. It went unsaid that the downtown that Billy Sue had wanted to beautify was no longer there.

Even this late at night I-35 traffic crawled, as it had been closed on both sides down to just one lane. Overturned cars had been moved onto the shoulders, and looked as if a giant had been playing Matchbox and thrown a tantrum. The headlights sparked on bits of tempered windshield glass littering the road.

“I still can’t believe this happened,” Jessie said. “In my dreams, everything’s back to normal, but then I wake and this nightmare is real.”

“Might take a while, but things’ll get better.”

“I know.”

His heart shattered when a glance her way showed her eyes shining with unshed tears. A fierce longing shot through him. He wanted to hold her, to promise everything would eventually be okay. He wanted to skim her soft hair back from her forehead, then kiss her lips and nose and cheeks, comforting her, reassuring her, loving her the way he used to when she’d bombed a test or gotten a flat tire. Never had he been more keenly aware of the fact that the old saying about not knowing what you’ve got until it’s gone was true.

They may have passed through the storm damage and now rode on a debris-free interstate heading north to Norman, but the personal wreckage between them spanned not miles, but time—nearly a decade. But no matter how much he wished to turn back those years, the Navy had hardened him, taught him to stay focused on reality. The here and now. And the reality of their whole, sad saga was that it was over.

His mind understood that fact.

The pain crushing his chest did not.

Away from her, it had been all too easy to compartmentalize what they’d once shared, to shove it into a dark corner, never seen by the light of day. Now, sitting her next to her, every so often catching whiffs of her strawberry lotion, made pretending she lived on a different planet kind of hard.

“Is being a SEAL everything it’s hyped up to be?” she asked. “Are you always trudging through swamps, carrying tons of equipment on your head?”

“Sometimes.” He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, glad for the opportunity to think about anything but his still-fierce attraction to her. “Depends on the mission. There was this one time when my team was hunting down a not-so-nice guy in a not-so-nice place I’m not allowed to mention when me and my friend Cooper drew the short straw and got stuck doing surveillance from a river. We breathed through snorkels and were only above water from our eyes up. We must’ve knelt on that muddy bottom for five or six hours when a snake passed by that was as big around as my thigh. Coop and I just froze. Like Indiana Jones, I can handle just about anything but snakes. Man, my heart beat so hard, it wouldn’t have surprised me had the bad guys heard it up in their camp.”

Jessie blanched. “That’s awful. Remember the time that cottonmouth chased us out of your dad’s catfish pond?”

“Yeah. Thanks for reminding me.” Grady shuddered. “I especially recall the part where you jumped on my back and let me do all the running.”

Her sly, sideways grin did funny things to his stomach. “Sorry, but you have tougher skin than me. Plus, you had on jeans and I was only in cut-offs and a bikini top.”

His recollection of that particular view made him instantly hard.

Mouth dry, body wanting what he could never again have, Grady returned his attention to driving instead of remembering how they’d laughingly retreated to his old tree house, where he’d untied her top, and helped her out of her shorts.

As if she remembered, too, she turned from him to stare out her window. “That mean old snake’s probably still there.”

“Probably.” Along with the remains of what we once shared.

* * *

“SOMETIMES I’D REALLY love to shake my mother...” By the time Grady parked the SUV in front of the health food store that had closed two hours earlier, Jessie’s nerves were shattered. She’d tried keeping conversation casual, but every topic led to times they’d spent together. “I knew this would happen, and I feel like a fool for not just calling myself to check the store hours.”

“Yeah.”

Yeah? Did that mean he agreed with her that she should have called? Nice. Too bad he hadn’t always been this much of a charmer, or she never would have fallen for him.

They left Norman’s quiet streets to rejoin the interstate’s ever-present bustle.

Despite being surrounded by so many people in all the passing cars, Jessie couldn’t remember a time when she’d felt more alone. Grady was right there—close enough that if she wanted to, she could reach out and touch him, skimming his strong, tan forearm. Or entwine their fingers. The knowledge that she would never again experience that sweet, simple pleasure of holding his hand ruined her. The pain collected at the back of her throat, closing off her air and stinging her eyes.

When her cell rang with her mother’s familiar cheery tone, Jessie was so flustered by the weight of her and Grady’s shared past that she struggled to even find her phone. “Hello?”

“I need you to do another favor for me.”

“Mom...”

“No, this time it’s serious.” By the time her mother finished relaying the situation, guilt consumed Jessie for thinking she held the world record for heartache.

After disconnecting, she cradled the phone to her chest.

“Let me guess,” Grady said. “She needs us to run another errand?”

“Yes, but you’re not going to believe this... We need to drop by the Rock Bluff police station to pick up a baby.”

“Wait—a baby?”

“You heard right. Crazy, huh? I guess the poor little thing was found in a field by the highway. It’s a miracle she’s even alive.”

“Why’d they call your mom?”

“Because of the day care. She’s a registered foster parent, and occasionally takes temporary custody of really young kids who are in rough situations—she even has a nursery set up at the house. Police told her they expect to run through the few license plates in the immediate area where the infant was found, and will most likely find her family within hours. Mom needs us to get the baby, because we have the car seat.”

“Ah...” He took the Rock Bluff exit. “Makes sense.”

Jessie alternately dreaded and anticipated claiming the infant for even a short while. Though she’d long since come to terms with her own childless situation, that didn’t make it easier to bear when parents of her second graders brought baby brothers or sisters to Open House or parent/teacher conference nights.

In under ten minutes, Grady parked the vehicle in the chaotic police station lot. A makeshift volunteer camp had been set up in the adjoining empty field, and a tent city flattened the formerly tall grass.

Jessie didn’t wait for Grady to open her door as she once would have. Even if urgency hadn’t propelled her forward at a frenetic pace, they were no longer on terms where she’d have expected—or even wanted—him to pour on any level of courtesy or charm.

The station’s lobby was even more of a mob scene than the parking area, but she spotted their mutual friend Allen, who had married her good friend Cornelia—aka Corny, Corn Dog or Corn Nut—and headed his way.

Jessie sensed Grady behind her, and walked faster through the crowd in a failed attempt to make the humming awareness stop.

“Holy shit,” Allen said upon catching sight of his old football buddy. They gave each other slapping bro hugs. “Wish you were here under better circumstances, but it’s good seeing you, man.”

“Likewise.”

“I didn’t figure we’d see the whites of your eyes till Thanksgiving.”

“I hadn’t planned on being here,” Grady said. “But once Mom and Dad told me about the ranch, I had to come.”

“I understand.”

While the men caught up, it was clear to Jessie that they regularly stayed in touch. That hurt. How could Cornelia have kept that information from her? Had Grady been to their house? Sat on the same sofa as her? Jessie’s mind should be focused on the task at hand, but that was hard, considering her current level of betrayal. Who else in town had hung out with Grady and wasn’t talking?

“I imagine you’re here about the baby,” Allen said, leading them out of the lobby’s bustle to the break room. “Crazy to think that out of all this wreckage, this little sweetheart survived without a scratch.”

The guys had made a corner nest for her out of faded, neatly folded quilts that the local churches had donated to the jail.

“Oh, my gosh...” Jessie’s heart nearly broke. “She’s so tiny.”

The blond-haired, blue-eyed cherub couldn’t have been over two months old, and mud crusted her fuzzy pink PJs. Someone had been thoughtful enough to wash her face and hands, but her curls still held dirt and grass.

Jessie scooped the sleeping infant into her arms, cradling her against her chest. “The girl’s parents must be frantic.”

“I know, right?” Allen shook his head. “The thing is, out of all the missing persons’ files we’re working, none of them involve an infant. The chief’s guessing her folks must have been among those injured on the highway, and that they were taken to an outlying area hospital. We’ll run her DNA to have matched against the deceased in the morning. If you and your mom don’t mind caring for her until we find them, it’d sure ease our minds, knowing this little lady’s in good care.”

“Of course,” Jessie said, smoothing the infant’s matted curls. “We’ll be happy to keep her for as long as it takes you to find her true home.”

* * *

AFTER BUCKLING THE baby into the safety seat, Grady climbed behind the SUV’s wheel. Jessie rode in back, alongside their tiny new passenger.

Watching Jessie dote on the infant did crazy things to his insides. All at once, he was furious and sad and filled with resentment. How dare she deny him his own long-held dreams of becoming a dad? Of course, the moment that thought hit his head, he knew it was crazy, but sometimes that was exactly how he felt. Had he and Jessie married out of high school, like Allen and Cornelia, they’d already have school-aged kids. The notion incensed him—just how fast his life was passing by. On the surface, he was happy enough. But peel back his carefully shrouded emotional layers and he was a freaking disaster. Which was why, aside from holidays, he avoided Rock Bluff and all of its inhabitants, who reminded him of what he’d lost.

Back at the house, the women fussed and cooed, bathing the infant and dressing her in fresh-smelling, soft pink clothes. A pediatrician friend of Billy Sue’s stopped by, and pronounced the baby to be in remarkably good condition. Through it all, the exhausted tiny creature slept, blissfully unaware of how frightened she might be upon waking to find herself surrounded by strangers.

Grady wanted to join in the spectacle of adoring this miracle, but he’d been shut out. Not deliberately, but the fact that they assumed he knew nothing about babies, coupled with the sad truth that Jessie hadn’t even made eye contact with him since they’d returned to her parents’, told him loud and clear where he stood—on the outside, forever looking in.

Tired of lurking in the hall, hovering in the shadows just outside the nursery, Grady made his way downstairs to join his father and Roger in watching an old John Wayne war movie.

“How’s it going up there?” his dad asked during a commercial.

“Good,” Grady said. “They’ve got things under control.” Which was a damn sight more than he could say for himself. The sight of Jessie holding a stranger’s baby had triggered something in him that his knotted stomach refused to let go of.

His dad noted, “Your mom and I sure were hoping to get a grandkid or two out of you by now.”

“Before this whole mess with the twister,” Roger piped in, “Billy Sue and I were just talking about that same thing. We’re not getting any younger.”

“I could use a beer,” Grady said. “You guys want one, too?”

“You bet.” Roger shifted on his recliner. “And if you don’t mind, bring my pretzels from the pantry—and that horseradish cheese dip Billy Sue hides on the lower shelf of the fridge. Look way in the back.”

“Will do.” Grady was relieved his stab at changing the subject had been a success.

Rummaging in someone else’s pantry and refrigerator struck him as just about as uncomfortable as the whole grandkid speech. Come to think of it, since he’d stepped foot back in town, not a lot had been comfortable—except for those fleeting moments of shared laughter between him and Jessie in her mother’s car.

From upstairs he could hear the faint sound of infant whimpers, and then a full-on wail.

Cotton added excited yipping to the mix.

Arms full, Grady returned to the family room.

“On second thought—” Roger aimed his remote at the TV to notch up the volume to cover the baby’s cries “—Ben, maybe the last things we need are grandkids.”

“Maybe so,” his dad said, while, on the TV, John Wayne drew his gun.

With both older men engrossed in the movie, Grady took his beer and meandered out to the shadowy pool deck.

More power had been restored to the outlying areas affected by the storm, but the swath of greatest destruction was still dark.

The screen door creaked open and then banged shut.

Grady looked over to witness Jessie dart from the house.

In the low light, she couldn’t see him watching her as she retreated to a bench-seat covered swing. When she then started crying, Grady found himself in the unfamiliar territory of being unsure what to do. Since the day he’d earned his SEAL Trident, it had been drilled into him to make swift, fact-based decisions, but nowhere in any drill or manual had a situation like this been covered. Since Jessie had broken things off with him, his experience with women had resided solely in the realm of the temporary. Things were fun while they lasted, but the moment he was called out on his next mission, he cut things off with clinical precision. There were no hurt feelings, because he’d been clear from the start that whatever was shared was purely physical.

He might be brave in gunfire, but when it came to surrendering his heart? Forget it. Jessie had assured he would never love again.

Lord, he wanted to go to her, drawing her into his arms—not just to stop her tears, but figure out the reason behind them. But what good would that do? They were no longer friends any more than they were lovers. They were nothing. Strangers who’d happened to meet under difficult circumstances.

In stealth mode, using the shadows to his advantage, he crept from her line of sight.

But before retreating around the backside of the house, he made the mistake of taking one last look at her defeated form.

She sat sideways on the swing and hugged her knees to her chest. Moonlight shone in her teary eyes. The effort it took to stop from running to her damn near killed him. But for his own self-preservation—hell, self-respect—he had to avoid her like poison. Because to him, to his ego, to his carefully walled-off emotions, that was exactly what she was.

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