Military Daddy (6 page)

“Then my advice would be to stop focusing on the kind of relationship you want with the child and start focusing on the kind of relationship you want with Annie. Women will do almost anything to protect their children. If she sees you as a threat, you'll never earn her trust. Respect is the key.”

“How do I make her understand that?”

Lindsey shook her head. “I'm not talking about her. I'm taking about you.”

He scowled. “I respect women.”

“You're thinking in general terms. Chivalry is fine, but true respect for another human being only comes from knowing them—and it comes from the heart.”

Respect from the heart. He nodded. “I understand what you're telling me, but how do Annie and I get past the botched start we made?”

“Baby steps, Shane. Slow, careful baby steps.”

 

Marge stood waiting for them on the front porch when they reached home. The look of disappointment in her eyes as she listened to her daughter's halting and slightly slurred confession was painful for Annie to see.

“Annie, will you excuse us?” Marge asked.

“Of course.”

“Olivia, I want to speak to you in private.”

Nodding, the girl walked with leaden feet through the doorway. Marge followed her daughter into the house and upstairs to the girl's bedroom.

Annie knew exactly how Olivia was feeling. She took a seat on the beige sofa covered with colorful throw pillows and waited with her gaze riveted to the staircase leading to the upper level. When Marge was done with Olivia, it would undoubtedly be Annie's turn to face the music. She didn't relish the idea.

Would Marge ask her to leave? The prospect was frightening. She didn't have enough money saved to get a place of her own. Without Marge's continued support and counsel, Annie couldn't help wondering if the urge to drink again would overwhelm her the way it had during her last setback.

After thirty long minutes the sound of a door opening and closing upstairs made Annie sit up straight. Only a few months ago she would have taken off rather than apologize and accept responsibility for her actions. Part of her wished she still could, but a deeper part of her was grateful that her newfound faith in God's love kept her from running away.

Marge entered the room and sank onto one of the green recliners flanking the large picture window. Pulling a green-and-gold throw pillow into her lap, Annie buried her fingers in the long fringe to keep her hands from shaking. “I'm so sorry, Marge. I should never have let her go off by herself. This was all my fault.”

“Don't be so hard on yourself. Olivia knows right from wrong. I can't believe I didn't see this coming. How can I profess to counsel people for a living when my own daughter can pull a stunt like this?”

“Now who is being hard on themselves?”

Marge managed a weak smile. “You're right. I can only pray that she learned some kind of lesson from this. How many times can you tell a child that their actions can have serious consequences?”

“If you think it would help, I can talk to her about exactly what those consequences are.”

“Thank you. For tonight, I think the headache and sick stomach is enough to stop her from trying this again anytime soon. I hope it is. Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“How young were you when you started drinking?”

“Fifteen.”

“How did you get alcohol at that age?”

Looking back, Annie couldn't believe how easy it had been. “My parents had it in the house all the time. They were ‘social drinkers.'” She made quote marks with her fingers.

“I'm supposed to be the professional here, but the truth is I'm an angry, scared mother. What should I do?”

“Don't panic.”

“That's easy to say.” Marge raked a hand through her hair.

Annie sat forward. “Just keep talking to her. Pay attention to how she acts. Search her room if you suspect something. She'll hate you for it, but you can't let that stop you. Alcohol makes people great liars. If she says she's going to stay over at a friend's house, call and check up on her.”

“In other words, don't trust my own daughter?”

“My mother trusted me. Maybe if she had been less trusting, things might have turned out differently. I'm not saying it was her fault—it wasn't. I'm saying I got away with it for a long time before anyone noticed. There is no easy answer. You're a good mother, Marge. You'll figure it out.”

“I pray with all my heart that you're right.” Marge pushed up out of her chair. “I wish my Ben was still here. Raising a child alone is no easy task.”

As Marge left the room, Annie laid her head back against the sofa cushion and sighed. She knew raising a child alone wouldn't be easy. Olivia's stunt today had driven home that point and proven once again that Annie had trouble making good choices.

If someone as wise and full of faith as Marge struggles with being a single parent, what chance is there that I can do it by myself?

Yet raising her baby alone was her only option…wasn't it?

T
he following Monday afternoon Annie finished cleaning her last room in the east wing of the hotel, happily pocketed a handsome tip and began pushing her cart toward the maids' closet. As she turned into the service corridor, she saw Crystal hurrying toward her. “Annie, you've got to come to the break room.”

“In a minute. I need to get restocked first and empty my trash.”

Crystal grabbed her arm. “Leave it. You've got to come see this.”

“See what?”

“Come on. Quit stalling.”

Apparently Crystal wasn't going to take no for an answer. Annie gave in and allowed her friend to pull her toward the break room. Yanking open the door, Crystal grinned and announced, “They're for you!”

Puzzled, Annie glanced from her friend to the group of maids lined up in front of a table. At the sight of Annie, they stepped aside. In the center of the table a large bouquet of sunflowers and green, lacy ferns filled a silver vase to overflowing.

Annie looked from her smiling coworkers to Crystal. “For me? There must be some mistake.”

Crystal rushed past her. “There's no mistake. It's got your name on the card. I'm so jealous. Nobody has ever sent me flowers.”

No one had ever sent Annie flowers, either. She crossed the room slowly. With hesitant fingers, she touched the velvetlike yellow petals. “Who would send me flowers?”

Marge was the only person Annie could think of who might do something like this, but it wasn't Annie's birthday or any special occasion that she could think of.

Crystal pushed her closer to the table. “Open the card and find out, silly.”

Annie stuck her hands in the pockets of her uniform. What if it was some kind of mistake? If she opened the card and found out these weren't for her, she might actually cry. She looked at Crystal. “You open it.”

Crystal pulled the card from its plastic holder and held it toward Annie. “I'm not going to read your love note.”

Annie snatched it from her hand. “It isn't a love note.”

“You don't know that.”

After a half second of hesitation, Annie slipped her finger beneath the flap of the envelope. Ripping it open, she pulled out the card. Turning her back on Crystal's interested gaze, she read the brief note handwritten in bold, dark strokes.

I'm sorry you had such a fright on Saturday. I hope you and your friends are all doing okay. Shane

It certainly wasn't a love letter, but it did prove the flowers were for her. The thoughtfulness of his gesture touched her deeply. She
had
been frightened and worried out of her mind.

“Well, what does it say? Who are they from?” Crystal tried peering over Annie's shoulder.

Tucking the card in her pocket, Annie said, “They're from Shane.”

“That is
so
sweet.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Are you sure you want to get rid of the guy?”

That very question had been buzzing around in the back of Annie's mind since Shane had so willingly offered his help to find Olivia. He wasn't behaving like most of the men she knew. Maybe she had been too quick to dismiss him as another in a long list of mistakes in her life.

She stared at the bouquet, noticing the tiny white flowers tucked in among the greenery. They were baby's breath. Had he asked for them or had it simply been the florist's choice? It was another question that would remain unanswered in the back of her head.

Excluding Shane wasn't an error in judgment. Even if she wanted her baby to know his father, Shane was shipping out to Europe in a few months. One stable, caring parent would be enough for this child. Yet even as the thought ran through Annie's mind, it was quickly followed by the one doubt that never quite faded.

What if she couldn't stay sober? What kind of mother would she be then?

 

When the doorbell rang the following evening, Annie wasn't surprised to see Shane standing on Marge's front porch. She had been expecting him ever since she had received the flowers. What did catch her unawares was the little skip her heart took at the sight of him. Surely it wasn't because she was happy to see him again. After spending so much time and energy trying to convince him to forget about her and the baby, she should have been angry that he kept showing up. Only…she wasn't.

Dressed in his formal military uniform, he looked even more handsome than he had in his cavalry outfit. For a moment she considered not opening the door, but she realized that was the coward's way out. She needed to show him that a bouquet of flowers, no matter how pretty, wouldn't change her mind about what was best for her baby. Taking a firm grasp on the knob and struggling to compose herself, she opened the door. “What do you want?”

Looking taken aback, he said, “Hello, to you, too.”

Annoyed at her lack of composure, she struggled to hide the effect he had on her nerves with bluster. “I'm sorry. Hello, Shane. Now what do you want?”

“Is Olivia home?”

It was Annie's turn to feel taken aback. “Yes.”

“May I speak with her?”

She couldn't think of a reason to deny his request. “I guess.”

He waited a moment longer. “May I come in or would you rather I wait out here?”

Giving herself a mental shake, Annie stepped back. “Come in. I'll tell Olivia that you're here.”

“Thank you.”

As he walked in, she couldn't help but notice how large he seemed in their small entryway. The spicy scent of his cologne filled the foyer, and the close quarters left her feeling breathless. She gestured toward the living room through the archway to the right. “Have a seat and I'll tell Marge and Olivia that you're here.”

He started into the room, then turned back to smile at her. “I see you got my flowers.”

The arrangement sat in the middle of the coffee table in front of the sofa. For an instant Annie wished she had left them in her room, but the bright flowers were simply too pretty not to share with the other women in the house.

“Yes. Thank you. It was a kind thought.”

“Don't mention it. How are you feeling, by the way?”

“Fine.”

“No ill effects from your scare?”

“None.”

“I'm glad. You certainly look well—and very pretty, I might add.”

Annie rubbed her palms together and took a step toward the kitchen. “Marge and Olivia are in the backyard. Have a seat and I'll get them.”

Turning, she hurried out of the room. The man made her as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

At the back stoop, she saw Olivia unenthusiastically raking grass clippings and depositing them in the trash can. While she hadn't outwardly complained about being grounded, it was plain that she would rather be elsewhere. Marge was pruning the shoulder-high hedge that separated their small yard from the property behind them.

The scent of freshly mown grass and cut cedar mingled with the aroma of someone barbecuing up the block. The sun disappeared behind a mass of dark clouds off to the west, and a cool breeze sprang up to cool Annie's warm cheeks, but the sight of storm clouds piling up in the west only served to increase her nervous tension. Storms terrified her. She quickly crossed the lawn and stopped beside Marge.

“Shane Ross is here and he'd like to speak to you.”

Pushing her hair out of her face with the back of one gloved hand, Marge frowned. “He wants to see me?”

“Yes. You and Olivia.”

“Me?” Olivia's eyes widened in concern as she propped her rake against the red picnic table that sat in the shade of the yard's ancient maple tree.

Marge scowled at her daughter as she walked past the table and laid her clippers on the corner. “You keep working. I'll see what he wants.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Annie waited anxiously for Marge to return. Away from Shane's overpowering presence, Annie's mind started working again, and she tried to figure out why he had come. When she first saw him at the door, she had assumed he had come to see her—to take up where he had left off trying to convince her that he had as much right as she did to be involved in her baby's future. But he hadn't so much as mentioned the baby except in a roundabout way when he'd asked how she was feeling. So why had he asked to see Marge and Olivia? What was he up to?

She glanced toward the clouds as she rubbed her hands up and down her arms. Were they moving this way?

“I wonder what he wants. Do you think I'm in trouble with the Army?” Making only a halfhearted attempt to continue raking, Olivia's eyes were glued to the back door.

Annie shook her head. “I don't think so.”

Olivia frowned at her. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because if you were, they would send someone with a higher rank than a corporal to talk to your mother.”

“You mean, like a general?”

“I think a sergeant at the very least.”

“I'd really hate to be thrown in the brig.”

Annie kept the smile off her face with difficulty. “I might be wrong, but I think you actually have to be
in
the Army to spend time in the brig.”

“Oh, well, that's a relief.”

The back door opened and Marge emerged from the house with Shane close behind her. They crossed to where Annie and Olivia stood. Marge said, “Olivia, this is Corporal Ross.”

“I remember you—sort of.”

“You weren't feeling your best when we last met. With your mother's permission, I have a few questions I'd like to ask you.” The gentleness of his smile made Annie wish he were looking at her.

Marge said, “We'll be in the house if you need us.”

He nodded once. “Thank you, ma'am.”

Taking Annie by the elbow, Marge steered her toward the back door. Once they were inside, Marge went to the kitchen sink. Annie joined her, pulling the blue-checkered curtain aside so that she had a view of the pair taking a seat at the picnic table. Marge began to wash her hands. The fragrance of lemon soap vied with smell of ham baking in the oven.

Annie couldn't contain her curiosity any longer. “What does he want?”

“He wants to ask Olivia about the boys who supplied the alcohol. The Army is looking into the incident. They recognize that underage drinking is a very serious problem in the community and they want to help. The military police are questioning Heather. Shane offered to come here because he felt Olivia might feel less threatened by a friend of yours.”

“He's not exactly my friend.”

Marge pulled a sheet of paper towel from the holder under the cabinet and dried her hands. Turning to face Annie, she said, “He wants to be.”

Looking away, Annie chose to ignore the remark. “I hope she tells him what she knows.”

“I hope so, too. She didn't want to tell me anything that would get Heather in more trouble, but perhaps she won't feel the same misguided loyalty toward those young men. Tell me—why don't you believe that Corporal Ross wants to be your friend?”

Startled, Annie frowned at her. “I didn't say that.”

“Not in so many words, perhaps, but the look on your face plainly says you don't believe he does.”

“Do you think he does?”

“I think it's worth taking the chance to find out.”

Annie focused her attention out the window. Shane had risen to his feet. He offered his hand to Olivia. She stood and shook it, looking almost grown-up and shyly proud. Dropping the curtain so Shane wouldn't see her spying on him, Annie moved away from the window. When the pair came into the kitchen, she busied herself pulling a stack of plates from the cupboard. She chanced a peek at him. He grinned and winked at her, then spoke to Marge.

“Thank you for letting me speak with Olivia. She's been very helpful.”

Marge smiled at her daughter. “I'm glad. Have you had dinner, Corporal?”

“Please call me Shane. No, I haven't eaten.” He glanced at his watch. “I'll pick something up on the way back to the base.”

“Why don't you join us? We have plenty.”

Annie spoke up quickly. “I'm sure that the corporal has to get back to his duties.”

“Actually, I'm done for the day. Whatever you're having smells good. If you're certain it won't be a problem, I'd be happy to stay.”

“Wonderful. Pull up a chair and join us. It isn't fancy, but it's filling. Olivia, would you please tell Crystal that dinner is ready. Annie, could you set another place for Shane? I'll be back in a minute. I need to put my tools away. They're forecasting rain tonight.”

Annie's apprehension about the approaching weather jumped a notch. “Are they calling for severe weather?”