Her Military Man. Laura Altom Marie
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catch him wink. From there on out, she kept her mouth shut and carefully stared straight ahead.
Who’d told Garret Felix had left?
Oh, who was she kidding? In a town the size of Mule Shoe, Felix and his wife attending a Vegas broadcasting convention was big news.
They moved up in line again, only instead of Garret vanishing from her world and prospering elsewhere, as per Connie’s wishes, he doggedly kept behind her. Did he have to smell so good? Like earth and wind and sweat and sea—which was stupid, really, seeing how smack-dab in the center of Oklahoma, there wasn’t a whole lot of sea in sight!
“Hey, Miss Manners,” Harvey, the store owner and checkout clerk, called when mercifully, it was Constance’s turn at the register. “How’s Lindsay’s bunny brigade doing? She ever unload all those babies?”
“She, um, sure did—all but one she couldn’t bear to part with.”
“Yep,” he said with a friendly chuckle. “Reminds me of my own girls. Just be grateful your little one doesn’t have an affinity for horses. Now there’s some real money.”
“Don’t I know it,” Constance said, pulling out her wallet, thankful not only that her daughter preferred small livestock, but that she was almost free of Garret.
Harvey finished ringing up Lindsay’s Vitakraft Rabbit Menu and Funny Bunny Fruit Bites, then said, “That’ll be $14.68.”
She opened her wallet, only to find herself short the $4.68. “Um…” Something would have to go back. She’d thought she still had fifteen left from buying groceries that morning, but she’d forgotten she’d had to buy toothpaste and floss, which had forced her to make a last-minute stop at the drugstore. Eyeing the bunny treats, she picked up the brightly colored bag. “Without these, how much?”
“Here,” Garret said, slapping a five on the counter.
“Thank you, but no,” Constance said, as if his money were contaminated, plucking it up with her thumb and forefinger, then turning to hold it out to him.
“Oh, come on,” he said. “My money’s just as good as anyone else’s. And anyway, I’m not buying that rabbit candy for you, but your kid.”
“She doesn’t need your charity.”
“Look,” Garret said under his breath, leaning forward to talk in her ear. “Just because you and I have issues, don’t punish her. I like kids. Take the money.”
Harvey stood staring, then put his fingers to his lips and nodded. “I know you. You’re Ben Underwood’s boy. Aren’t you a Navy SEAL?”
“Yessir.”
“I’ll be damned. Shoot, your money’s no good here, son. Constance, you just run on along, and take those treats with you. I know times are tough, so you tell that little angel of yours to stop by after school Monday and she can sweep the back room to pay for this.”
“Th-thank you,” she said, hustling to remove not just her purchases but herself. “I’ll be sure Lindsay’s here.”
“Sounds real good,” Harvey said with a wave before turning back to Garret. “Son, it’s good to have you home. And just as soon as this line clears out, how about us swapping stories? If you remember, I put time in myself back in ’44 and ’45. I was there when we crossed the Rhine. And did you know…”
Outside, safe in bright sun, Constance dared to breathe.
It’d been bad enough running into Garret like that, but then running out of money, and Garret offering to buy a gift for their daughter.
Their daughter…
Hands shaking so badly she could hardly open the door of her tan ’92 Civic, let alone ease the keys into the ignition once she’d set her purchases on the passenger side, Constance forced air into her lungs. All those years ago she’d made her bed the second she’d allowed Garret into it.
Leaning forward, she dropped her head against the steering wheel, praying Harvey kept Garret occupied with war stories for at least fifteen to twenty minutes.
How had her life come to this?
Constantly wondering if someday Garret would tire of playing G.I. Joe, then swoop in to take the only thing in her life worth having—her precious little girl—was Constance’s worst nightmare. The mere thought of Lindsay going through the same hell she had as a child in being torn between two parents was inconceivable. Not to mention a huge part of the reason that, to this day, Constance had so closely guarded her secret.
The air in the car was stiflingly hot, even with the windows down; the air-conditioning had gone out last summer. Over the winter, she’d hoped to find funds to fix it, but then the house’s hot water heater had died, so who knew when she’d have cash for luxuries like cool air?
Nathan, her ex-husband but continued confidant and close friend, had on numerous occasions offered to loan her money or just outright pay for whatever she or Lindsay had needed, but with each new offer, she’d politely but firmly turned him down. He’d been a doll all those years ago to help her out of what at the time had seemed an insurmountable problem. Never did she want to burden him again.
A decade ago, the three of them—Garret, Nathan and she—had been great friends. Then she and Garret moved beyond friendship. Suddenly, pregnant, scared and refusing to bog down Garret’s life by telling him of the baby, she’d confided in Nathan, hoping he’d have suggestions for what she should do. Never had she expected him to propose marriage!
Though her initial reaction had been a swift hug and an equally speedy refusal, he’d explained that as a lifelong friend, he loved Garret, too. He wanted him to follow his dreams. Garret was too young to be burdened with a kid. When Constance had pointed out so was Nathan, he’d brought up the practical matter of his healthy trust fund. A baby and wife would be no financial burden. As for the demands on his time, he’d begged her to let him do this. Not just as a favor to her, but to Garret. Years later Nathan had admitted he loved her—had always loved her. He’d hoped she’d feel the same, but how could she when Garret had already claimed her heart?
Of course, in retrospect, Constance saw the mistake she’d made in keeping Lindsay from Garret all these years. But seeing a problem and knowing how to fix it were two different things.
Not long into her and Nathan’s marriage, when Constance still slept in her own bed, dreaming of one day reuniting with Garret, Nathan had been kind enough to see her through her pregnancy. Shortly thereafter, when she’d caught glimpses of sadness and regret in Nathan’s eyes, she’d released him from what he’d believed a lifelong obligation. As much as she adored Nathan as a friend, she wanted him to experience the same joy she and Garret had fleetingly found.
A thump on the car’s roof made her jump.
She looked sharply up only to have the knot in her stomach tighten. Garret stood alongside her and, judging by the rich scent of grain, that thump had been him resting the feed bag on top of her car.
“Would you mind?” she barked. “That rough paper’s no doubt scratching my paint.”
He laughed. “Hate to be the bearer of bad news, sweetie, but judging by this scratched-all-to-hell side panel and that crunched front right fender, your ride’s got a lot bigger issues than a wee scratch to the roof.”
“That’s not the point,” she said. “You can’t just go around tossing feed bags on top of women’s cars.”
“Would it be all right to toss other things up there?”
The question was so ludicrous, the look on his sinfully handsome mug so sincere, she couldn’t stop the grin tugging the corners of her mouth. “Go away.”
“I will, but first, answer me one thing.”
“What?”
“Mom said you and Nathan didn’t work out. He not paying