The Soldier's Surprise Family (3 page)

His jaw did the tick thing again and he nodded to the two folders she had set on the table. “Everything about them and their mother is in the folders.” He shook his head.

Picking up one of the folders, she flipped it open. “You haven't seen the children?” It was the baby girl. Her heart melted at the big eyes, perfect tiny lips and tons of tight curls that surrounded the sweetest face. “Oh, Garrett, she's adorable. Look at her.”

As if wearing a neck brace, he turned and gave the eight-by-ten photo a quick glance. With his attention back on the door on the opposite wall, he nodded. “She looks like her mother.” He moved away. “For now, I should clean out the office so it can become their room.”

“What happened? How'd she lose the kids? What about the fath...?” She flipped to the next photo. Shocked by the scene, her stomach heaved. The folder fell from her grasp. She leaned over and braced herself. “I'm gonna be sick.”

Garrett rushed to her side. He muttered under his breath as he pulled her hair back. “Do you need the restroom?”

Forcing in deep breaths, eyes closed, she shook her head. “No, I'm fine now.”

“I should have warned you the crime-scene photos might be in there.” He went to the mini refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water. “Here.” He pressed the cold plastic into her hand.

Sitting up, she leaned her head back. She adjusted her scarf. Knowing horrible things happened was one thing; seeing them in pictures was a completely different story. How was she going to get that out of her head? “Oh, Garrett, those poor babies. We have to help them.”

Garrett pulled the other chair next to her and placed his hand on her shoulder at the base of her neck. “I'm sorry. I should've looked through them before letting you see the folders. I was...just avoiding.”

“Were they in the room? Did they see what happened to their mother?”

“The boy might've been.” He was so close she could hear his breathing. “Pilar is a baby and, hopefully, won't have any memory.” Leaning back, he pushed his hair away from his forehead.

With the folder in hand, she was careful not to look at the bloody photos, instead focusing on the picture of the little girl and her information sheet. “Her name is Pilar Rose. She just turned ten months old.” Making sure to breathe, she reached for the second folder.

Hand flat on the folder, he spread his long fingers over it as if to protect her from the contents. “I just want to see him.” She held her hand out for the deceptively plain folder Garrett covered. “I'm prepared now. I was caught off guard. Let me see them.”

Instead of handing over his son's file, he opened it.

She kept her gaze on Garrett's face as he stared at the top photo of the little boy. He blinked several times and his throat worked up and down. Not able to resist, she peeked over his arm and saw a serious little boy with Garrett's green-gray eyes staring back at them. He was a little darker with a mop of curly hair, but other than that, she was looking at a young version of the man sitting next to her. Garrett pressed his hand over his eyes.

She moved back, wanting to give him space to collect himself. Two breaths in, one hard breath out. Counting the steady rhythm gave her something to focus on instead of asking questions. He was breathing with his whole body. A broken heart was nothing new to her, but to watch such a controlled man fighting to hold it together made her want to wrap him in her arms.

The hard muscle along his jaw popped. This time, instead of wanting to scowl at him, she wanted to comfort him. Fisting her hand in her lap to keep from running her fingers along the tense muscle, she fought the urge to sooth him.

After a long while, he slid his hand down his face and covered his mouth, looking up at the ceiling. She saw moisture on his eyelashes. He handed her the photo, paper-clipped to an information sheet. Scanning the sheet gave her somewhere safe to look. “Garrett River Kincaid Jr. He has your name.”

“And apparently everything else, too. No DNA test needed. It's like looking at an old picture of me as a kid.” He stood but didn't go anywhere. The silence grew tense.

She didn't know what to say, so she tossed a few words around. “He has curly hair.”
Well, that was a stupid thing to say.

“I had curly hair as a kid, too. When I went to school, my dad shaved it off so I wouldn't look like a girl. It came back straighter.” He lifted one hand and ran it through his own thick hair.

The neat cut was now unruly, but she still couldn't imagine him with curls. “The kids in my family all start off with ringlets, too, but around five or six they lose them.”

“I don't know how to do this, being a father.”

“We can make it work.” She blurted it out. Thinking of what happened to those two small children, she knew they needed a home full of love and good memories. Tears started burning her eyes. “We have to make this right for them. We have to bring them to a real home.”

He took his eyes off the bare walls and looked at her. “We?”

“I won't let you
not
let me help.” She hugged the folders.

The obstinate man lifted an eyebrow at her.

She gritted her teeth and pressed the folders closer to her chest. With one deep breath, Anjelica looked back at him. “Okay, so I didn't word that very well, but you get my meaning. They need more than food and a bed to sleep in. They need consistency, a home filled with love, and you need help.”

“Right now they need a safe place.” He disappeared into the smaller room he was using as an office.

She hadn't been up here since he moved into the garage apartment. There was nothing on the walls. The bookshelf remained empty. A brown sofa and a small round table with two chairs had been provided in the rental. He hadn't added anything of his own, not even a TV. The only personal items were the saxophone cases. Not a single picture of his family or friends.

Garrett came back into the living area and sat a laptop on the table. “He's five and she's ten months old. What am I gonna need? Maybe I should make the smaller room my bedroom and put them in the bigger room.” He looked up at her. “Or does a ten-month-old need to be in a room with an adult...a parent? I work nights sometimes and if there's an emergency...”

The color left his face.

“Garrett, you'll need someone to watch them when you're at work.”

“I'm going to call my mother. If she could move here, that could work. I can sleep on the sofa. I've had worse.”

She had a bad feeling he was going to be stubborn about taking help. “I have some baby stuff. It's all unused. I have a crib, high chair, changing table, rocker and the smaller stuff like blankets.”

He rubbed his eyes and stared at the screen.

“You need some sleep.”

He checked his watch. “I'm fine.”

She reached over and pushed the top down on his computer. “Get some sleep. I'll have the things they need by the time you wake up.”

She took a deep breath and smiled. Could she do it? Could she hand over all of Esperanza's furniture? She closed her eyes and felt the peace wash over her. Garrett's baby girl needed a room full of love, and Esperanza didn't.

It was time. She opened her eyes and smiled at Garrett. “God provides.”

He sighed. “Not sure about God, but I'm not your problem to fix. I do need some sleep, but I don't have a lot of time to waste to get everything ready for...”

“You have enough time to sleep. I'm telling you, almost everything you need is close. Okay? When you wake up, come over to the house.”

Yes, it felt right. Maybe this was why she hadn't cleaned out her baby girl's room yet. God knew Garrett would need it.

Chapter Two

A
n explosion rattled the walls. Garrett jerked straight up from sleep. No, not an explosion, just another nightmare. He threw back the heavy blanket and sat on the edge of the bed. Avoiding the frayed braided rug, he made sure to plant his bare feet on the cold tile floor. Taking several deep breaths, he anchored himself in Clear Water, Texas. In the present. Sand blew against the roof. Grinding his back molars, he buried his fingers in his hair. Not sand. Afghanistan belonged in his past. The thin glass in his window shuddered under the force of the violent wind outside.

The sound that had woken him penetrated the room again. Not in his head, but outside. A hefty storm was making a fuss and building power. Barefoot, he left the bedroom and walked across the apartment. The security light keeping it from being too dark to see. Opening the French doors, he stood at the threshold of the small balcony. Tiny bits of hail had collected on the deck. A few minuscule chunks pelted him. His thin T-shirt offered little protection from their sting.

He blinked, confused by a cloth flapping in the desert wind, twisting around a group of kids playing soccer. His fingers closed around the iron railing. It was cold, hard...real. He inhaled, pushing his lungs to their limit. With eyes shut, Garrett fought to get his mind back to the here and now.
I am standing on my balcony in Clear Water, Texas.

It had been a while since he'd had this type of episode. Maybe the news he'd gotten today was part of this mixed-up nightmare. He was taking full responsibility of two kids. He knew firsthand no matter what you did, bad things still happened. Another boy's smiling face and bright dark eyes came to mind. Counting breaths, he shook his head.

His mind latched on to the present, and he opened his eyes again. This time, he made sure he saw Anjelica's backyard. Even in the dark he could still make out the miniature farm surrounded by ranches that gave the illusion of endless hills and trees. A cry came from the area of her large garden.

A bedsheet? Okay, that was real. Why was that crazy woman chasing a bedsheet across her yard in the middle of a storm? He didn't even have a sense of time. He glanced inside and saw the clock, which read 10:33 p.m. He had slept longer than he'd planned.

Shaking his head, he grabbed his trench coat and slipped on his boots. With his hat firmly planted on his head, he made his way down the stairs of the garage apartment. He knew she was a bit on the fanciful side, but this was strange behavior even for her. She had no business being outside with hail and lightning. Did she have a death wish?

By the time he walked through the gate, she was balanced halfway up the deer-proof fence, attempting to untangle the sheet from the eight-foot corner post. Her bare feet were precariously poised on the tie bar between the huge cedar post and the stay. Her new fluffball pet leaped about and barked.

“Bumper! Stop it!” She tugged at the sheet. Anjelica's long dark hair was plastered to her like a second skin, making her look more like an elf. Even standing on the tie bar, she couldn't reach the top of the corner post. Did she notice the hail? Cutoff sweatpants exposed her golden-brown skin to the elements. He shook his head as he cut across the tilled garden.

The dog finally caught the edge of the white sheet between its teeth. “Bumper! No! Bad girl! Let go!” As she tried to pull the sheet away from the Yorkie, Little Miss Sunshine lost her balance.

Garrett rushed to catch her. She landed in his arms with an “Oomph.” Lightning streaked across the sky as he ran for her covered back porch. He counted the seconds between seeing the flash and hearing the thunder. Five seconds. Too close for comfort. His arms tightened their hold when she started wiggling. “Hold still or I'll drop you.” She might be small, but she struggled against him with toned muscles.

He leaped up the three steps and under the eclectic collection of ceramic wind chimes that lined her porch. Their musical notes sounded angry tonight.

“No! No, I have to cover the bush! The hail's gonna destroy it.”

“You don't have any shoes on, and even small hail can be dangerous.” Once he had her bare feet on the boards, he looked into her large eyes to check their dilation for signs of a concussion. Her irises were so dark he couldn't see her pupils in the dim light.

Maybe she already had brain damage. Another bright light flashed, and for a split second he could see everything as if it was high noon. He saw a thick heavy scar that ran across the base of her neck. The soft edge disappeared into her hairline by her cheek. Then he was blinded again just as quickly. Was that why she always wore a scarf?

She tried to push past him. “I've got to cover my plant before it's destroyed.”

The ceramic chimes thrashed in a sudden gust of wind, and it was hard to hear over all the noise. “No, stay here.” He made a gesture to her head and feet, hoping she understood. “I'll cover the plant.”

Pulling his hat low, he ran back into the storm and crossed the yard to retrieve the sheet. The dog followed, leaping and barking like they were playing a game.

“Bumper, get back here,” Anjelica yelled from the top step. The undisciplined dog ignored her.

With one hard yank, he had the sheet down. The two-foot bush had already lost some of its early growth. Small leaves dotted the ground. Using the wind to help, he threw the sheet over the top of the plant. Then Garrett looked around for something to anchor it.

“Here, use these.” Anjelica ran past him to pick up some red bricks lining the bottom of the fence. At least she had mud boots and a hat on this time, along with a bright orange scarf wrapped around her neck.

The pelts of hail grew harder. He tucked his head and drew his shoulders higher. He was apparently as crazy as his landlady.

The dog pulled on the sheet, tossing her head back and forth with a growl. The furball could fit in his pocket but fought with the fierceness of a lion. The pink bow did nothing to soften her attitude.

“I've got this!” Garrett pointed toward her porch, hoping she would follow his command. She shook her head and moved to the base of the bush with a brick.

“Bumper! Stop!” The dog darted away from Anjelica and grabbed another corner.

Garrett scooped the bit of fluff up in one hand, holding the pup out of the way while he tucked the heavy sheet around a brick with the other, making sure it was under the bush and tight enough to stay in place.

On the opposite side of the shrub, his tiny landlady crawled out from under the plant and put her hands on her hips. “I think that'll do it,” she yelled before finally running back to the safety of the deep porch.

He followed. One step behind her, he tried to shield her from the worst of the storm.

Once on the porch, she threw her beat-up hat on a bench, then sat on a worn rocking chair and pulled off a boot. She wore two left rubber boots. One of them had colorful stripes, but the other one was purple with white flowers all over it. Yep, she lived in another world altogether.

“Glad you found proper footwear.”

Waving a delicate hand toward her yard, she said, “This wasn't in the weather report. I couldn't find my boots when I realized it was starting to hail.” She pulled off the purple boot and dumped water out of it. “My only thought was to get to my Esperanza. It just started sprouting spring leaves.”

She never made eye contact as she flipped her hair over her shoulder. Wet, it looked black. Instead of the usual colorful blouse, she wore an oversize faded purple T-shirt with Fighting Angoras Football printed across the front. “I know it sounds irrational, but I just wanted to cover my plant.” With a deep sigh, she stood. “Thank you so much for coming to the rescue, but I guess that's what you do. Rush into danger like a good soldier.” She stood and took Bumper from him. The little dog started licking her face. “You know, now that you're a father, you'll have to be more careful.”

His eyebrow lifted high as he stared at her. “Did you really just call me out for being in this storm? I wouldn't be out in the storm if you had stayed inside.”

She blushed and looked away. “Sorry. I'm not feeling very rational right now.” With the back of her free hand, she wiped at her eyes.

Oh, please don't cry.
He scanned her cluster of outbuildings and enclosed pens behind the garden area, a mismatched collection of painted structures that housed chickens, rabbits and goats. She was the mayor of a miniature village for all the misfit farm animals in the county, and now he was adding two children to the mix. He shouldn't be surprised she had easily agreed to him moving the kids into the garage apartment. She collected damaged goods. “Looks like everyone else is safe from the storm.” That should make her happy.

She rewarded him with a smile. Nodding, she kissed the top of the silky mop's head. “My dad bragged he built those to withstand a tornado.”

The hail was larger now, dime-sized nuggets zinging off the tin roof like ricocheting bullets, putting his nerves on edge. He took a deep breath. He was in Clear Water, Texas. Far from war.

At least tornadoes were rare in the Hill Country. He took off his own hat and slapped it against his leg. Chips of ice clattered to the wood flooring. Calling the weather in Texas unpredictable was the definition of understatement.

It wouldn't surprise him if he found a few bruises in the morning. He pushed his hair back. The little froufrou dog ran over to him and put a paw on his muddy boot. The clipped tail wagged so hard its whole body squirmed. “Bumper?”

Anjelica smiled at the wet rat. “I found her just the other day on Bumper Gate Road. I put an ad in the local paper, but no one's come to claim her.”

Standing in front of him, she moved in for a hug before he realized what she had planned. “Thank you for saving my plant. I do think you'll do a fine job as a father.”

His jaw clenched. He had never been a touchy hugging kind of guy, but he'd been hugged more times in the few months since he'd moved to Clearwater than he had his entire life. He remained still, not wanting to offend her by pulling away.

Kids liked hugs, too. He remembered wanting to be in his mother's lap, but she had always been too tired or too busy. He managed to lift an arm and give her a pat on the shoulder, hopefully not too stiff. She shivered in his arms. They were both cold and wet. “You need to go inside and change.”

She backed up and grinned at him as if she'd made a new friend. “Thank you, Officer Kincaid. Um, now that you're a father, you might think of a less dangerous job?”

He frowned. “I like my job.”

Another flash of lightning. He counted again, one Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi. A golf ball of solid ice landed at his feet. He narrowed his eyes and then looked at the path back to his apartment. The trip back to the garage wasn't far, but with that last bolt of lightning, he doubted it was wise to run across the yard again. He looked at his watch. It had taken him a couple of hours to go to sleep, but he had been out for seven hours.

“Officer Kincaid—”

“Call me Garrett.”

“Oh!” She grabbed his arm. “Now is as good a time as any to show you the baby equipment.”

She leaned in closer, and the smell of vanilla and earth intrigued his nose. The lyrical sound of her voice tickled his ear. “Promise not to tell my parents I was outside in this weather. My mom would have a fit and Papa would tell me to move back home, again. They wouldn't like that I'd go that far for a simple shrub.”

He had a feeling there was nothing simple about the shrub.

“Come on.” She turned and opened the screen door.

Garrett followed her and crossed over the well-trodden threshold. In his line of work, he'd been in about every kind of housing, but this was straight out of a children's picture book. Alice's rabbit hole had nothing on this girl.

It was everything his apartment wasn't. The old farmhouse had a huge kitchen. A family of ten could easily sit at the table.

Even though the cabinets were painted white, splashes of color touched everything. More ceramic creatures hung from strings, while others lined the windows and cabinets.

“Sorry about the mess. I made a big batch of tortilla soup earlier tonight to share with my grandparents and a few other people in town. Then an idea struck, and I ended up in my ceramic studio before I cleaned. Have you eaten since lunch? Here, let me get you some.” Without waiting for his reply, she loaded a ceramic bowl with the aromatic soup. Fresh herbs and spices filled the kitchen. His stomach grumbled in anticipation.

She pulled a spoon out of the dishwasher and moved to the table. “Here, sit down and eat. I'll slice an avocado and heat you up a corn tortilla. What do you want to drink? I have milk, sweet tea and water.”

“Water's fine.” Before he got the first spoonful of soup to his lips, she had a small plate with avocados and thin corn chips on the table next to him. Another trip and she handed him a warm tortilla and a tall glass of ice water.

“I'll put some in a container for you to take to the apartment for later.” She set a blue bowl on the counter, then dug around in the cabinets. “I'm the only person that lives here, and I still can't find a lid.” Pulling out a red one, she held it up and smiled at him. “Found one.” She snapped the red lid onto the blue bowl.

Of course she did. Why start matching now? “Please sit and eat with me.”

With the dog bouncing about her feet, she sat down across from him. She slid the plastic bowl his way.

“Thanks.” He dunked the tortilla into the warm soup. He didn't want to waste time with forming more words. He had fallen in love. He closed his eyes and savored the rich flavors on his tongue.

“I'm the one that's grateful. Thank you for braving the storm and helping me cover Esperanza.”

He opened his eyes. He really shouldn't have been surprised by anything she said. “You name your plants?”