Military Daddy (8 page)

The silence lasted about five seconds.

“Thanks, but I'm fine.”

“You've been working for hours. It won't kill you to take a break and eat a bite.”

“The longer I work, the sooner I'll have this done.”
Boom, boom, boom.

Balancing the plate with care, she began to climb the ladder one-handed. She reached the top and was setting his plate on the sloping roof when his startled voice rang out. “What do you think you're doing?”

“I'm bringing you supper.”

He grabbed the ladder with both hands to steady it. His face was only inches from hers. “Are you nuts? You shouldn't be climbing up here in your condition.”

“I'm pregnant, not acrophobic.”

“Not what?” His eyes were wide and he had a death grip on the ladder beams.

“Acrophobia is a fear of heights.”

“Okay, let's just say I get that when I see a pregnant woman fifteen feet above the ground. Please get down.”

“Will you eat?”

“I'm trying to get this finished before it rains again.”

“There's no rain in the forecast for the next thirty minutes, so you have time for dinner. I'm not going down until you eat.”

“I can't eat. My hands are busy holding this ladder so you don't fall.”

“The ladder is perfectly sound. You've been going up and down it for days.” She tried to pry one of his hands loose but only managed to get his pointer finger undone. His strength surprised her.

“Okay, you win.” The sudden change in the timbre of his voice sent waves of tingles racing across her nerve endings. He let go of the ladder and closed his grip over her hand.

“Good.” Oh, that had sounded breathless even to her ears. The rough texture of his skin against hers only served to make her more aware of her femininity. The size of his hand made her feel small and protected, not frightened.

He sank back cross-legged onto the roof, letting her hand slip out of his in a slow caress. “I eat and you get down. Do we have a deal?”

Clearing her throat, she nodded. “We do.”

Picking up the burger, he stuffed it in his mouth in two bites. Pointing downward, he mumbled, “Go.”

“Are you trying to choke yourself?”

Chewing momentarily silenced him, but his eyes spoke volumes as he glared at her. Swallowing at last, he said, “Get your feet on the ground. That's an order!”

She opened her mouth to object to his manner, but he shot to his knees and gripped the ladder again. “I know how to do a fireman's carry. Don't make me prove it.”

A dignified retreat seemed like her best choice. “I'm going.”

Backing down the ladder with care, she stepped off the last rung and moved to the side. A moment later he slid down without using his feet and landed beside her.

Impressed, she asked, “Where did you learn to do that?”

“My foster father ran a roofing business. When I was old enough, I worked with him.”

“What happened to your birth parents?”

“My mom died of cancer when I was eleven.”

“I'm sorry.”

He shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”

She couldn't help but notice that he didn't mention his father.

“What about you?” he asked, walking toward the picnic table. Unbuckling his tool belt, he tossed it onto the wooden surface.

“My parents live on Long Island. We don't keep in touch.”

“Why not? I'm sorry—that's none of my business.”

It wasn't something she normally talked about. But then, her relationship with Shane could be called anything but normal. Without knowing exactly why, she wanted him to understand who she had been.

“My addiction made me a very destructive person. I hurt my parents in a lot of ways. I can't tell you how many times they got me out of jail or picked me up at some hospital. I took money from them every chance I got. When they stopped keeping cash in the house, I stole their credit cards. I ruined them. My mom lost her job. Eventually they even lost their house. In the end, they had to cut me out of their lives. I have a younger brother. I know they did it for his sake. I don't blame them now, but I did for a very long time.”

“Do they know you're sober now?”

“I wrote them a letter last year to tell them how sorry I was and that I had found God, but they didn't write back. I still hope someday that they will find it in their hearts to forgive me.”

“So what happened the day we met, Annie? What made you go into that bar?”

A
nnie crossed her arms over her chest as she faced Shane. Sharing her experiences with other recovering addicts was one thing. They understood. How much of what she had been through could Shane understand? Would telling him make him doubt her ability to be a good mother? No matter what he might think, she knew that this baby was God's way of helping her overcome her disease. For her child's sake, she would never drink again.

“Why did I get smashed the night we met? I wish I had a plausible explanation. I wish I had a good reason, but the fact is, I don't. I'm an alcoholic, Shane. I don't need an excuse to drink.”

He settled his hip onto the table edge. “Something must have happened. You said that you had been sober for almost a year before then.”

“The day we met I had just been fired from my job. It wasn't a great job, but I needed it. I really felt like I was making some progress turning my life around and then—
pow!
—I'm unemployed.”

“Why were you fired?”

“The little company I was doing secretarial work for needed to make cutbacks. Last hired, first fired. It was as simple as that. Life wasn't being fair. God had failed me. I didn't know what to do. So I returned to the one thing I knew would make me feel better.”

“Only it didn't help.”

It was tempting to share her painful journey to sobriety with this man, but she held back. She wasn't ready to expose her innermost fears and doubts to him. Her failure was between herself and God.

“No, it didn't help. It made things worse. Just look at me now.”

“I think you look fine. In fact, I think you look amazing.”

His compliment caught her off guard. “Are you sure you're putting those shingles on right? Because I don't think you see so well.”

“I see a young woman in a difficult situation who is making a positive change in her life. That is an amazing thing. My son or daughter could do a lot worse in the mother department.”

He sounded so sincere. Her usual flippant comeback didn't materialize. Instead she murmured, “Thank you.”

He straightened and reached for his tool belt. “I'd better get back to work. The roof won't replace itself.”

“But you didn't finish your dinner.” Her desire to stay and talk with him surprised her as much as his compliment had. For some reason, being near him didn't make her as uncomfortable as she had expected. Instead his nearness left her feeling happy and a little giddy, if she were being honest.

Shane rubbed one hand over his jaw. “Truthfully, I ate before I came over tonight. But thanks for the hamburger. It was good.”

“Did you even taste it?”

“I was too afraid you'd fall.”

He cared about her and about the baby. The knowledge wrapped itself like a warm blanket around her heart.

“Tomorrow evening you'll join us at the table, and that is an order, Corporal. I know you agreed to do this work in exchange for some home-cooked meals. If you don't start eating them, Marge is going to feel compelled to pay you.”

He sketched a quick salute. “Yes, ma'am. I'll be here tomorrow and I promise to bring my appetite.”

“Good. You'll be expected to clean your plate.”

“I will.”

Picking up his tool belt, he slung it around his waist but paused in the act of buckling it to look at her. “Unless you're having okra or goat. I can't promise to eat those.”

“You're kidding, right?”

“I'm deadly serious. I never joke about okra.”

“Who eats goat?”

“Lots of people,” he said with a straight face.

“Eew!”

“My thoughts exactly. I guess it's safe to assume those two things won't be on the menu tomorrow?”

“You're pretty safe with that assumption, but just in case, I'll let Marge know that you don't eat goat.”

“Or okra.”

She nodded slowly. “Or okra. I'll go cross it off the shopping list right now.”

“Thanks.” He finished buckling on his tools and headed for the ladder.

 

The following day Shane arrived at Marge's house in high spirits. His conversation with Annie had given him a new measure of hope. She wasn't averse to spending time with him. He would even go so far as to say that she had enjoyed their talk. He certainly had enjoyed his time with her—once she was safely off the ladder.

Now, if he could only sway her to his way of thinking. A child needed a mother
and
a father. There had to be some way for them to work out their differences.

Opening the trunk of his car, he pulled out a roll of nails for the nail gun he had rented for the project. Any work was easier if a man had the right tools for the job. If only he could figure out what tools he needed to convince Annie he was father material. Spending time with her was the key. This roofing project would only take a few more evenings. Somehow he had to get her to agree to see him after it was done. So far, he knew that independence, education, helping others and her faith were things Annie valued deeply.

He valued the same things—all but faith. Why was it so important to her?

Annie drove up just as he closed his trunk lid. Parking behind him, she turned off the engine, but it chugged several times before it finally died. Crystal jumped out of the passenger side and hurried into the house with only the briefest of waves in his direction. He walked toward Annie.

“You should get this vehicle looked at,” he suggested when she stepped out of the car.

“I will. It just has to keep running until payday.” Closing her eyes, she put her hands on her hips. A grimace crossed her face as she leaned backward.

“You're home late. Tough day?” he asked, walking to stand beside her.

“I've had worse.”

“Turn around.”

“What for?”

“Just do it.”

After giving him a long, suspicious stare, she finally did as he'd asked. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he began to massage her tense muscles.

She stiffened for a second, but then she gradually relaxed. After a few more moments her head lolled forward. “Mmm, I'll give you until next Tuesday to stop that. Do you do feet?”

“If you need horseshoes, I'm your man.”

She giggled. “The last thing I need is iron shoes. My feet hurt enough as it is.”

Shane couldn't believe how much it pleased him to hear her laugh. After a minute she stepped away from his massage, and he let his empty hands fall to his sides. The urge to pull her into his arms and hold her close was almost painful in its intensity. It took all his willpower not to act on the impulse. This wasn't the time or the place. Instinctively he knew he would lose what little trust he had gained. “Okay, no new shoes from my forge.”

The rush of color in her cheeks told him she wasn't indifferent to his touch.

“How's the roof coming?” she asked quickly.

“I should be able to finish next week. The gables and the steep pitch make for slow going.” That and the fact that he wasn't in any hurry to complete the project.

“You are staying for supper tonight, aren't you?”

“I'm looking forward to it.”

“If I get a move on, it will be ready in about an hour.”

“You aren't cooking tonight after working so late, are you? You look exhausted.”

“Food won't fix itself because the cook is tired. We take turns with the chores and tonight is my night to make supper. I'll manage.”

He clearly remembered Olivia and Crystal laughing at the idea of Annie cooking. “Maybe we should call out for pizza or something.”

She scowled at him. “Are you afraid I can't cook a decent meal because I'm a little tired?”

He found himself on the defensive and tried to backpedal. “That's not what I was saying. I just thought that you should be taking it easy. You are pregnant, after all.”

She smacked her palm against her forehead. “Wow, I completely forgot that. Thank you for reminding me. How did I get this way? Oh, that's right—you helped.” Stepping toward him, she poked her finger into his chest. “For your information, being pregnant doesn't affect the way I cook, either.”

He held up both hands. “Whoa, I'm not sure how I got here. Can we go back to the point where I didn't have my foot in my mouth and you were happy to see me?”

Glaring, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Was I ever happy to see you?”

“I thought so—but I've been wrong before.”

She arched one eyebrow. “I'm sure you have.”

“Yes, a lot. Well, maybe not a lot but often. Sometimes.”

He gestured toward the house. “Okay, I'm going to climb up on the roof with my hammer now and try to pry my foot loose.”

“You do that.”

“I'll just go do that,” he muttered as he picked up the roll of nails and headed for the backyard.

 

A little over an hour later Annie placed her tuna casserole in front of Shane and took her place opposite him at the table.

“It sure smells good,” he said for the third time since he'd come in.

How a man his size managed to look like a repentant first-grader was beyond her understanding. She took pity on him and gave him a small smile. “I hope you enjoy it.”

Nodding, he grinned in return. “I'm sure I will.”

From the head of the table Marge asked, “Where is Crystal?”

Annie glanced at the clock. “She said she had a few errands to run and not to wait for her.”

A small crease appeared between Marge's brows. “She's been gone a lot lately. Did she borrow your car again?”

“Yes, but I don't mind. She puts gas in it. Don't worry—she knows she has to be back before the meeting tonight.”

The smile Marge tried for looked forced. “Still, I think I should talk to her. I have the feeling that something isn't right.”

Smiling at her, Annie said, “You worry too much.”

“Maybe you're right.” Marge looked at Shane. “Would you like to lead us in prayer tonight?”

“Me?” His voice didn't quite squeak, but his apprehension was painfully clear.

Olivia giggled but quickly subdued her mirth at her mother's quelling stare.

Looking sheepish, he said, “I'm afraid I don't know many blessings for eating except the one that goes ‘Good food, good meat'…and I don't think that's what you had in mind.”

It was Annie's turn to choke back a laugh. Marge scowled at her, then turned her attention to Shane. “There aren't any rules. Just tell God what you have to be thankful for.”

“Okay.” Taking a deep breath, he bowed his head and closed his eyes. “God, Thank You for the food on this table.”

Annie felt his gaze. When she opened her eyes, she found him staring at her.

“Thanks, too, for giving me the chance to know these special people,” he said quietly.

Hoping their interplay and her blush would go unnoticed, Annie glanced toward Marge. Mercifully Marge's perceptive eyes were still closed and her head was bowed in prayer.

“And thanks for not letting me fall off the roof today. Amen,” he added in a rush.

“Amen,” Marge echoed, but not before Annie saw the tiniest twitch at the corner of her mouth.

“We still can't thank you enough for fixing our roof,” Marge said as everyone began filling their plates.

“It's my pleasure. It's been kind of fun doing something besides taking care of horses and riding.”

“I'd never get tired of taking care of a horse if I had one,” Olivia asserted, passing a bowl of peas and pearl onions to her mother.

“Don't be too sure of that,” Shane said. “They take a lot more looking after than you might imagine. Especially horses that work as hard as ours do.”

“Annie tells me that you'll be leaving soon.” Marge spooned a portion of vegetables onto her plate and handed the bowl to Annie.

“My tour with the Commanding General's Mounted Color Guard will be finished the end of July. After that I'll be returning to my regular unit.”

“Will you, like, be driving tanks and things?” Olivia asked.

“Mostly I'll be fixing helicopters. It's what I do.”

“That's cool.” Olivia forked a bit of casserole into her mouth.

“Shane is being transferred to a base in Germany,” Annie added. That, among other things, was part of the reason she resisted his requests to be involved with the baby. He wouldn't even be in the country, so how could she include him? She couldn't—even if she wanted to—which she didn't.

Olivia turned her attention to Annie. “Are you going to find out if you're having a boy or a girl tomorrow?”