The SEAL's Stolen Child. Laura Altom Marie
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the small of her back. “Like I said on the phone, Daddy hasn’t even told me what it is he has to say.”
“Right.” A nerve ticked on his hard, square jaw as Garrett nodded. “Well, I don’t mean to rush something like this, but your dad and I have never exactly been close and with me only in town on holiday leave, we’ve got a houseful of folks at Mom’s holding our Turkey Day dinner until I get home.”
“Of course.” Reading between the lines, Eve got the gist of Garrett’s words. He didn’t give a damn about her beloved father’s deathbed request to see him any more than he’d cared to talk to her all those years ago. “I’ll take you to Daddy’s room.”
* * *
TRAILING EVE UP AN ENDLESS flight of marble stairs, carefully avoiding the sight of her rounded derriere, Garrett Solomon might as well have been in the Buxton County courthouse for all the warmth this place contained. Because Eve’s father, Hal, had been Coral Ridge’s mayor —like her grandfather—for the past forty years, it’d been dubbed the Mayoral Mansion.
Garrett preferred the Snob Hill nickname one of his football pals had thought up. Regardless of the name, the sentiment was the same—enter the old place at your own risk. Garrett might be a SEAL now, but back when he’d been sixteen, sneaking up the servants’ staircase to Eve’s room, he’d had no idea how many years of torment the occupants of this house would cause him.
“Just a little farther,” Eve said, casting a half smile over her shoulder.
Right. The hall was wide enough to drive a VW Bug.
“Good. You’re both here.” Grim-faced Dr. Mulligan slapped his newspaper against the empty half of a brown leather settee. Garrett hadn’t seen the man since he’d broken his arm at thirteen. “Hal’s been calling for you, but gave me the boot.”
“Sounds like Daddy…” Teary-eyed, Eve hugged the salt-and-pepper-haired doctor. “I—I can’t thank you enough for being here. It’s been a horrible few days.”
“Agreed.” The doctor stood, pulling open double doors that led into a dark room lit only by a bedside lamp. Antiseptic overrode the more putrid smells of sickness and pending death. Countless missions had taught Garrett that death indeed had a smell and it wasn’t pretty.
A uniformed nurse sat near the patient, reading from the Bible. The old man had taken on religion a little late in life. “Mr. Barnesworth—” the woman moved to the foot of the bed, making room for Eve to stand near her father “—Eve is here.”
“Garrett?” The old man’s voice scratched as if he’d dined on sandpaper.
“I’m here.” Though Garrett preferred the shadows, he stepped into the lamp’s glow.
“Come closer,” Hal said after a few shallow coughs.
“Daddy—” Eve perched on the side of his bed, taking his hand “—we can come back later if you’re not feeling up for a talk.”
“Nonsense.” Waving toward the nurse and doctor, he managed through another round of coughs to dismiss them both. “Can’t die in peace with this on my heart.”
Garrett had been in a lot of strange places, but this one beat them all. The imposing, dark-paneled room housing a canopied bed suitable for royalty was about as welcoming as stepping into a museum exhibit. Not even the fire crackling in the hearth provided warmth.
“Go ahead, Daddy. Garrett and I are listening.”
“We a-alone?”
His daughter nodded.
“Your baby—” Hal surrendered to another fit of coughs.
The old man’s words tightened Garrett’s chest.
If prideful Hal Barnesworth hadn’t forced teenage Eve into some random, far-off home for unwed mothers, if Garrett had been allowed to care for her as he’d wanted, their baby might’ve lived.
“It’s okay, Daddy. I forgive you for making me go.”
With a violent shake of his head, the old man croaked, “No. N-not about that.”
Garrett wasn’t forgiving squat.
He might’ve been only seventeen when Hal told him his newborn son died, but that hadn’t lessened the pain. Even years later, during mission com-blackouts, his mind couldn’t resist playing a few rounds of what-ifs, plotting how different his life might be if not only his son had lived, but if Eve had cared enough about them both to stay in Coral Ridge.
“Y-your son,” Hal whispered. “I’m sorry, but—” More coughs erupted.
Silent tears glistened on Eve’s cheeks. Garrett knew the right thing would be going to her, offering her comfort during this obviously difficult time, but his feet felt frozen to the floor. Eve and her father once made his life a living hell. Could he now be blamed for not caring if the great Hal Barnesworth lived or died?
“Daddy, please.” Eve gripped her father’s gnarled hands. “Save your energy. Maybe if you rest, you’ll feel better?”
After a particularly violent round of coughs, the already gaunt man seemed to shrink within himself. “Y-your son isn’t d-d-dead.”
“Shh…” Patting his hands, Eve said, “You’re delusional. My baby died a long time ago. Like you said, it was for the best, right? His poor little heart couldn’t support him. It was good he didn’t suffer.”
Really, Eve? You’re drinking that Kool-Aid? How had losing their son been a good thing?
“I l-lied.” More coughs.
“About what?” Interest finally piqued, Garrett moved closer to the bed.
“Your son’s alive. I—I took him. I—” More coughs made his next few words inaudible, then he rasped, “My precious E-Eve…I’m sorry…I l-love…f-for best.” He took a few deep, gasping breaths, then passed out.
“Daddy? Please, wake up. Tell me what you mean.” Eve wrapped her arms around her father, hugging him to her. “Dr. Mulligan!”
The bedroom’s doors burst open as the doctor hustled to the bed. “What happened?”
“One minute he was t-talking—” Eve wiped tears from her cheeks “—and then he—”
The doctor brushed her aside to check her father’s vitals. “His blood pressure’s dropped substantially in the past hour. Exhaustion’s taking a toll.”
“Do something!” Eve shrieked. “Call an ambulance.”
“I’m sorry.” The physician took a stethoscope from his suit coat pocket, gently nudging Eve aside. “Your dad signed a living will. With cancer and now pneumonia, he knew his time was coming and wished no extraordinary measures be taken to prolong the inevitable.”
With Eve sobbing, hands over her face, and the doctor and nurse hovering over Hal, Garrett wasn’t sure what to do. No doubt the old guy’s words were just crazy ramblings. Also, knowing Hal, he’d no doubt wake in the morning—a good thing as he had major explaining to do.
Garrett knew he should be comforting Eve, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t believe Hal Barnesworth might actually be dying, let alone that his confession may be true. Garrett’s mind raced. His head knew this talk about their baby had to be just one more of Hal’s manipulations, but why? What did he have to gain? If there was so much as a grain of truth to what the old man said, where was their son now?
Chills ran through him. So much emotion he feared he might be sick. Forcing himself to hold it together, Garrett drew on his training to force deep, calming breaths.
To the nurse, the doctor said in a hushed tone, “Please put ointment on Mr. Barnesworth’s lips.”
“Yes, Doctor.”
Eve