Down Range (Shadow Warriors - Book 2) (25 page)

She wiped her eyes with trembling fingers. “It wasn’t your fault your father died, Jake. And knowing it now, I do understand. I can’t even imagine if it had been my father who died suddenly and I had to handle it at Annapolis.” Morgan sniffed. “I’m not sure at all I could have gone on like you did. I’d probably have failed and quit.”

“Well,” Jake groused, running his fingers through his short hair, “you love your father. I never loved mine and that’s the truth. He was never around. He didn’t want to take care of my mother, who was sick. He ran, Morgan, and I knew it even when I was ten years old. I owed him a responsibility because he was my father. I didn’t owe him anything beyond that. He wasn’t ever a father to me. He wasn’t ever a husband to my mother, either. His real family was the SEALs, and he made it a priority over us. We were always second in his life.”

Morgan’s heart broke for Jake. She saw the grief in his eyes, heard the anguish in his low voice. “I wish…I wish so much we could redo those years. So many assumptions. So many mistakes…misunderstandings….”

Jake gave her a rueful look. “Yeah, we’ve had a few potholes along the way, haven’t we?”

She gave him a grateful look. “You didn’t run. You were ready to settle down because you married Amanda.” Morgan shook her head and murmured, a catch in her voice, “I blamed you for so many things, Jake. And none of them were true.”

Worse, she’d hidden his daughter from him for over two years all because she’d thought Jake was not responsible nor could he be relied upon. Morgan felt nauseated over her stunning mistakes. What would Jake think or do once he found out Emma was his daughter? Would he leave her because she’d hidden his daughter from him? Closing her eyes, Morgan felt dumped into the fires of hell. And they were all of her own making. She’d put herself into this position. There was no one to shoulder the blame but her.

Opening her eyes, her fingers tightening as he’d relaxed his hand, Morgan said, “I need you to fly home with me, Jake. Tomorrow? I want you to come home with me to Gunnison.”
Come meet Emma. Your daughter.

Jake smiled, opening his hand and holding hers. “It’s about time I met your parents. I’ve spoken to them before, and I’d really like to meet the two people who created such a beautiful daughter that I’m in love with. A nice way to celebrate our engagement. I’m sure we can toss around some dates with them. Make them feel included.”

Morgan’s heart broke a little more. “I’ll always love you, Jake.”

“Well,” he said, sitting up, holding her shaken gaze, “I intend to be a real husband to you, Morgan. I guess this is as good a time as any to tell you. I knew I was going to ask you to marry me. I wasn’t sure what your answer would be, given our track record.” Jake lifted one shoulder. “I was hoping like hell you’d say yes, forgive me for my past mistakes, and we could move on. I’ve only got six more months left on my contract with the Navy. I’ve already told the Captain of SEAL Team Three I’m getting out.” He saw Morgan’s eyes widen, her lips part in shock. He knew he’d get that reaction.

“I wanted to prove to you that I wasn’t a runner, Morgan. That I took my responsibility toward you and any children we might have seriously. I would stay home. I’d be there for you. I’d be a father to our children. I didn’t want to be like my father, Morgan. I wasn’t going to be a shadow in your or our family’s life. I wanted to damn well be home for Christmas, celebrate Thanksgiving, give you chocolates on Valentine’s Day….”

“Are you sure about this, Jake? I know how much you love being a SEAL.” Morgan was shaken to her core. Jake lived SEALs. Breathed SEALs. It was his family. A second family that had embraced him, supported him, and he’d finally felt as if he belonged somewhere. Jake had had so much taken from him as an innocent child, and Morgan knew he’d found his family with the SEAL team.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Jake watched her tenderly. “I finally got clear on that after you almost died in that firefight, Morgan. I realized I was looking for a family. I was looking for you. I loved you. And when you nearly died, so much of my old ways of thinking and seeing the world shattered. I realized I could have you if you’d agree.” How Jake hoped she agreed. “And I was hoping you might want one or two kids with me. But I would be fine with just you, babe. You’re my family now. The SEALs helped me so damn much. They made a man out of me. They made me responsible and matured me. But that chapter in my life is almost over. The next chapter I open up is going to be about me marrying you, and we’ll be a real family then.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

When Jake stepped
into the Boland house in Gunnison, Colorado, that late afternoon, he had a shock coming. Jim and Cathy Boland greeted him warmly. Jake noticed Morgan’s father had gray eyes and black hair just like he did. The shock continued when he saw that his wife, Cathy, had red hair and green eyes, just like Morgan. As he stood shaking Jim Boland’s hand, Jake wondered, what were the chances that Morgan would meet him and they would share certain physical traits?

They’d welcomed him. Jake felt their sincerity and gratitude for what he’d done to bring them into the loop when Morgan had been wounded. As they took him on the tour, Jake admired the four-thousand-square-foot, two-story cedar cabin sitting in the woods, surrounded by Douglas fir, outside of Gunnison. He held Morgan’s hand as Cathy invited them through the kitchen and onto a huge sundeck outside the sliding glass door.

There was a redwood picnic table at one end and a number of chairs scattered around the deck. It overlooked a small pond that Jim Boland had landscaped and created. The place was peaceful, and Jake could feel himself letting down and relaxing. They stood along the railing, and Cathy told him how Morgan, when she was small, would go down to the pond and try to catch the frogs living among the cattails. He liked hearing about Morgan’s growing-up years, the home at nine thousand feet, deep in the Rocky mountains.

“We’re going to serve some iced tea, beer and snacks in a bit,” Cathy told them.

Jake nodded and felt Morgan tug at his hand. He looked down into her pensive face, thinking about her as a rambunctious, curious child running free out in the mountains. It helped him understand her roots. And clearly, the deep affection and connection Morgan had with her parents was special. He’d never had it with his father and began to understand the depth of his loss in his own childhood.

“Come on,” Morgan whispered. “There’s someone else you need to meet.”

Puzzled, he smiled and said, “Sure.” Jake excused himself with her parents and followed Morgan through the kitchen and into the foyer. She seemed nervous. Why? He could feel the dampness in her hand. When they reached the stairs, he knew Morgan would have problems climbing them because of her leg wound.

“Want me to carry you up the stairs?” he asked, grinning. Jake sensed she was anxious, which was unlike her, and he wanted to put her at ease.

“No. This is going to be slow,” Morgan warned him. Placing her right hand on the banister rail, she used the cane to steady her left leg. “My PT guys have been challenging me on stairs for a while. I’ll make it. Just stay behind me? Stay on my six?”

He grinned. “I like being behind you.” He saw her blush as she glanced back at him.

“You promised to be good while you’re here, Ramsey.”

Chuckling, Jake said, “I’m black ops, babe. There’s going to be places and times when I can touch you when no one else is looking.”

Morgan shook her head, taking the shining cedar steps one at a time. “This is going to be like climbing a mountain,” she warned him.

Jake slid his hand gently around her waist, wanting to give her more support. “It’s kind of like our life story, isn’t it? We’ve had a long, slow climb to reach the top?”

Morgan stopped halfway up, feeling twinges of pain in her leg from the exertion and needing to rest for a moment. Jake stood on the same stair, his hand never leaving her waist, his expression wry. “You’re right. Great symbol, these stairs. But it also says something else about us, Jake. We never quit loving one another no matter what kind of hurdles were thrown in our way, either.”

He leaned over, caressing Morgan’s lips, inhaling her sweet scent that was only her. She was relaxed here at home, not all buttoned-up and professional. In her purple tee and white summer slacks, she didn’t look like an officer in the Marine Corps. She looked like a young, beautiful woman on the verge of flowering to him. Jake slid his fingers through her loose red hair, feeling the silky strength of the strands. Jake kissed her again, this time more slowly. As he eased away, holding her darkening green eyes, he rasped, “Life isn’t easy, babe. It won’t ever be.” Caressing her cheek, he added, “Having someone at my side makes it a helluva lot easier, though.”

“It does,” Morgan said, her voice strained. “Come on. Six more stairs with me?”

“I should carry you.”

“Not a chance, Ramsey. If you fall with me, you’ll set my leg back by months.”

He snorted. “Like I’d drop you?”

Morgan laughed a little nervously and made it to the second floor. “You’ve never dropped me.”

Standing with her, Jake slid his hand across her shoulders, feeling the dampness on her skin, understanding how the stairs had challenged her fragile, healing body. “I didn’t drop you coming out of that wadi. If there was anywhere it could have happened, it would have been there.” He felt such a fierce love for her. They’d gone through so damn much together. Jake looked around. There were four doors along the polished cedar hall. “Where are we going?”

Morgan walked ahead, her hand settling on a brass doorknob. “In here.” There was nervousness in her eyes, although he didn’t understand why. Jake entered the room after Morgan. He closed the door behind him and turned around.

“I want you to meet Emma,” she whispered, her eyes filling with tears.

Jake saw a little girl sitting at her small desk in the corner, coloring madly away with her crayons.

When Emma heard the door close, she gasped, dropped the crayons and screamed,
“Mommy!”
She launched herself off the chair like a Harrier jump jet taking off from the deck of a Navy carrier.

Jake stood back, feeling powerful emotions sweep through him. He stood awkwardly, watching Emma fly into her mother’s open arms. Morgan had knelt, smiling broadly, taking her daughter’s full weight. Emma was dressed in a pink tee and bright red coveralls and had white shoes on her tiny feet. He stared down at her; it was as if a bomb went off next to him. Emma had black hair, huge gray eyes and a square face.

Jake’s mouth went dry, and his chest tightened. His heart began a slow pound as he stared disbelievingly down at the child. Swallowing against a forming lump, Jake recalled Afghanistan over two years ago. His condom had broken.
Jesus.
Emma was
his
daughter!

He could see Morgan’s mouth and nose in Emma’s face, but there was no question of his genetic stamp upon this young, joyful little girl. His heart swelled powerfully with love for both of them.

Morgan released her daughter and gestured for Jake to come over and kneel down beside her. She saw the shock and realization in Jake’s eyes. He’d put it all together, that Emma was his daughter. And then he hesitated, as if he was worried he’d say or do the wrong thing with his daughter. More than anything, Morgan saw love shining in his eyes for Emma. But would Jake ever forgive her? He had a right to be angry at her, too. She knew there would be long, intense talks alone, out of earshot of Emma. She had a lot of forgiveness to ask from Jake, too.

“Mommy, who’s this?” Emma asked, thrusting her index finger toward Jake.

Keeping her hand around her daughter’s tiny waist, Morgan smiled brokenly. Her voice grew hoarse with emotion. “Emma, I want you to meet your daddy.”

Jake reached out, touching Morgan’s hair, trying to communicate silently to her that everything was all right. He got Emma was his. He saw tears and anxiety in her eyes, as if she was scared he wouldn’t accept Emma. Or that he was angry at what she did to him. Jake couldn’t talk right now, not in front of the little girl. He leaned over and kissed Morgan’s brow.

“She’s beautiful, just like you,” Jake whispered unsteadily, holding her gaze, watching her understand he wasn’t angry with her. He knew why Morgan had protected Emma from him. So many damned mistakes and misunderstandings between them had forced her into this decision. Jake felt his heart tear over their jaded past with one another.

“She’s yours,” Morgan offered unsteadily.

He smiled a little, emotions running wild within his chest. His voice was low with emotion, and he smiled slightly. “Yeah, it’s a little obvious, isn’t it?”

Morgan nodded. “Just a little, Ramsey.”

“It’s okay, Morgan. Everything’s going to be okay.” Jake leaned over, kissing her brow, trying to ease the worry from her green eyes. “We’ll talk this out later,” he promised her gently.

Relief shearing through her, Morgan swallowed hard, wanting to cry but knowing she couldn’t. Not right now. “Yes…later…” She turned her attention to curious Emma.

Jake watched his daughter studying him, a scowl on her little face, those huge gray eyes amazingly intelligent, missing nothing. Emma was so small and thin. And he was so damned tall. Maybe threatening-looking to such a little child. Kneeling, Jake rested his damp hands on his thighs, absorbing Emma’s inquisitive expression as she tilted her face and studied him some more.

“Your daddy has been gone for a long time,” Morgan told her daughter. “But he’s finally been able to come home to us, Punkin’….”

Jake smiled at his daughter. “Emma? I’ve been waiting for a long time to meet you. To hold you.” His voice was rough-sounding because he fought back tears that wanted to come. Jake was afraid Emma would reject him. He opened his arms to her. “Can we say hello?”

Emma frowned and then looked up at her mother. “Why was Daddy gone so long, Mommy?”

Morgan moved her hand gently through her daughter’s loose, black hair. It shone like a raven’s wing, the very same color as Jake’s military-short hair. “Your daddy is a very brave man, Emma. He’s been away in another country.” Morgan took Jake’s hand and turned it over. “Look, do you see all these scars, Emma? Your daddy got those fighting in that war.”

Emma was fascinated. She boldly moved forward, placing her little hand on Jake’s hairy, darkly sunburned lower arm. Tracing the five scars she saw with her finger, she looked up at Jake.

“Do they hurt?”

Jake couldn’t speak. His throat tightened. His daughter’s gently tracing each scar disassembled him emotionally. She’d been so careful as she’d moved her tiny finger across each one. “Not anymore,” he promised Emma, a catch in his voice. His daughter seemed so concerned. Jake knew he couldn’t just reach out and grab Emma and hold her. He wasn’t sure how Emma would react to him, but it was important that she make the first move toward him, not the other way around. Jake needed her to trust him.

Placing her finger into her bow-shaped mouth, Emma studied the scars as he patiently held his arm out toward her. She looked over at her mother. “Mommy, was Daddy in the same country you went to?”

Morgan nodded. “He was, Punkin’.”

“And you got to see him?”

“A few times,” she told her daughter, caressing her small shoulder. “He was gone a lot, Emma. Like me.”

“You missed him, too?”

“Oh,” Morgan said, laughing softly, “very much,” and she shared a tender glance with Jake. He looked like a fish out of water. Unsure. Hesitant. Maybe afraid to make a mistake with Emma. Morgan wanted to tell him children were amazingly resilient and that he would make mistakes. But love between a parent and child would always smooth them over.

Emma leaned against her mother’s right knee, studying Jake in the gathering silence.

Jake was sweating. His heart was pounding with fear of being rejected. Emma was just as readable as Morgan. She left nothing to question, and he managed a slight smile down at his daughter. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come home sooner, Emma. I wanted to,” he told her. His mind fled back to that Christmas in Afghanistan and those three miraculous days he’d spent with Morgan, renewing their heated connection. Those three days had been incredible, and they’d created Emma as a result. Jake studied Emma’s scrunched-up face, and the corners of his mouth curved. Their loving one another in that desolate, desert country, with threat all around them, had produced this beautiful little girl. Jake absorbed her curious look, watching as she seriously chewed on her finger.

And then Emma pulled her finger out of her mouth and boldly marched forward, straight at him. She reached up with her thin arms, fearlessly met his eyes and said, “Daddy, I missed you….”

Jake slowly closed his arms around his daughter, feeling her warmth, her vital force of life that sent his heart reeling with relief and love. He was so large against her smallness, her arms unable to span his torso. Emma laid her head on his belly, trying to squeeze him with all her child’s strength. Closing his eyes, Jake felt tears burning behind his lids. He gently curved his hand around Emma, leaned down and pressed a kiss to her hair, which smelled like apple shampoo.

His heart spun with shock and joy; that this tiny creature would accept him just like that blew Jake away. Morgan gave him a reassuring look that spoke volumes. Emma, despite her age, almost three, was very old and wise, far more mature than her years as he’d just discovered.

Morgan slowly stood, smiling unevenly, trying to choke back a sob. It was so touching to watch them hug, and she pressed her fingers against her lips, trying not to make a sound. She didn’t want this powerful moment to be broken. Morgan watched with joy as Emma pulled back, placed her little hands against his face, leaned up and smacked a sloppy kiss on his jaw.

“Goodness,” Jake said happily, seeing affection in Emma’s eyes. He felt as if he were staring at a reflection of himself. His daughter was unafraid, and he grinned as he gently scooped her up into his arms, settling her against his chest. Her small arms twined around his neck, and Emma sighed and rested her head against his shoulder.

Giving Morgan a glance, Jake saw tears running down her cheeks. Hot tears slid down his face, too. He was crying out of relief. Out of loss. Out of missing so much with the two women who were now permanently a part of his life. Emma nestled more deeply against his neck, closed her eyes, a content look on her innocent face.

His love overwhelmed him in the best possible way as he stood there, his daughter in his arms. Jake drew Morgan forward, sliding his arm around the woman who had carried his child in her body, kissing her for a long, long time.