A SEAL's Secret Baby

“This just keeps getting better….” Garrett shook salt water from his fins.

“So this morning, I hear Pia crying. Wanting to try my hand at the whole responsible dad thing, I handled it. Got the kid scrubbed down, and I would’ve fed her, too, but Ellie flipped. I’m cooking bacon, with Pia in my arms, and she practically accuses me of child abuse. Says I’m gonna burn her with grease. The whole scene was nuts.”

Garrett didn’t answer, just kept messing with his gear.

“What? You think I was in the wrong?”

“No. Just put yourself in Ellie’s shoes. Not only did she lose her husband, but now she’s got this deep dark secret threatening to spill. Tom’s folks think the world of her and Pia. They’re her support system. What happens if she loses them, too?”

“Hadn’t considered that.” Sitting back on his heels, Deacon strove to balance himself against the Mark V’s 45-knots-per-hour bounce. “But you told me I should take an active role in raising my kid. Now you’re saying, for Ellie’s sake, I shouldn’t?”

“Not at all. For Pia’s sake, for sure you should. Just maybe take it a little slower. No more passing out on the couch, for one. And two, put the baby in her high chair before handling popping grease.”

* * *

“EVERYTHING’S PERFECT.” Tom’s mother, Helen, used a pushpin to add a pink balloon to the last pink streamer. “I doubt Pia will remember any of this, but I’m in desperate need of cheer. My granddaughter’s second birthday couldn’t be a more perfect excuse.”

“Agreed.” Ellie dropped raspberry sherbet into a bowl of pink lemonade punch. It had been a month since she’d seen Deacon, who’d been off on another mission. It’d been over a year since Tom’s passing. Every day she hoped missing him would get easier, but if anything, the fact that he really wasn’t coming back was sinking in. The heartbreaking finality of his absence, in everything from deciding whether or not to repair the broken washer or buy a new one, to what to have for Sunday supper, was taking an emotional toll.

Ellie’s only bright spot was Pia. She talked more every day and now had a working vocabulary of about thirty words—mostly commands for what she wanted Ellie to do. Play, hot, cold, food, ouch. How badly Ellie wanted to share these milestones with Tom. How guilt-ridden she was for not sharing them with Deacon.

She’d invited him to Pia’s big day, but in the same breath prayed he’d stay away.

“These are delicious.” Tom’s father helped himself to a cherry cupcake with cream cheese icing. “Ellie, you sure know how to cook.”

“Thanks.” She glowed at the man’s kind words. Her home life had been far from idyllic, growing up, which made her cherish her relationship with Helen and John all the more. “It’s a new recipe, so I’m relieved they turned out.”

Guests started arriving.

Ada. Neighbors. Friends from her old Mommy and Me crowd, as well as her widow support group and new alcoholic outreach program. She’d recently begun working with Pandora, a young alcoholic mother who’d lost her child to foster care. Though Ellie hadn’t admitted it to Ada, the work was extremely satisfying, going a long way toward making Ellie finally recognize she wasn’t a helpless little girl anymore. Bad things might occasionally happen in her life, but she was ultimately in control of how she reacted to those events. The more friends who arrived, the more relieved Ellie felt that Deacon wasn’t among them.

Helen turned on a kid-friendly CD and soon the normally serene backyard was transformed into a riot of frosting-smudged kids running wild on sugar and fun.

Ellie was at the kitchen counter making a fresh batch of punch when the back door swung open.

“Where’s the birthday girl?” In walked Deacon, brandishing a huge beribboned box. “Sorry I’m late. Pia’s gift was a special-order thing, and it just came in this morning.”

Ellie’s hands were trembling so badly she dropped the last scoop of sherbet down the garbage disposal. She tried finding words, but none made it past her dry mouth. He wore jeans and an untucked cobalt button-down that, when he removed his sunglasses, did the most amazing thing to his brown eyes. The man wasn’t just handsome, he was breathtaking—and he knew it.

Wielding his smile as if they’d seen each other just the other day, he asked, “Anyplace special you have assigned for presents?”

“I, um…” She wiped her sticky fingers on a dishrag. “Just put it anywhere. I didn’t think you were coming.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked with an extra helping of charm. “I’m Pia’s father.”

“Who hasn’t seen her in a month.”

“Through no fault of my own.” There he went again with his smile. “You can thank Afghan rebels for my absence, but I’m here now and psyched.”

“You could’ve let me know you’ve been on a mission. I had to find out through friends.”

“Sorry,” he said, still smiling. “You know how it is. After our last talk, I assumed you’d understand that would be the only reason I wouldn’t show up. Regardless, forgive me?”

What a loaded question. On one hand, there was nothing to forgive him for. On the other, she wanted to blame him for being Pia’s father. But how could she when she’d played an equal role in the utterly careless abandon that fatal night? Moreover, her daughter was her world—more than ever since Ellie had lost Tom. If anything, in some twisted way, she owed Deacon great thanks for wanting to tackle this most important job with his usual SEAL drive to excel.

“Of course I forgive you. But you have to do the same for me. I didn’t mean to come down so hard on you about the bacon. I just…” Hands to her forehead, she searched for an explanation for the chaos in her heart that had stemmed from seeing Pia in his arms. “Well, not that it’s an excuse, but with the anniversary of Tom’s death, and telling you about Pia, I was having a rough time.”

“Ellie, are there more—” Helen saved her by arriving in the kitchen with an empty cupcake platter. “Deacon!”

When she drew him into a hug, Ellie fought an irrational jealous twinge. She’d forgotten the simple luxury of human touch, and missed it. Sure, she held Pia all the time, but that wasn’t the same as losing herself to the warmth of being held.

“John and I have wondered how you’ve been.” Her hand to his cheek, Helen added, “The anniversary had to have been hard on you, too.”

Eyes welling, he nodded. “Sorry I haven’t called or anything.”

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