might understand why she’d done what she had.
When they reached the sidewalk, he grabbed her arm none too gently and guided her across the street, past the old barracks and down to the Green.
Shannyn shook his hand off when they reached the grassy expanse, taking a few steps away from him. He hadn’t hurt her. But her hopes at an amicable conversation had evaporated when the firm grip of his fingers dug into her skin. Even though he wasn’t holding her arm anymore, she felt his animosity. His jaw was clenched tightly and he walked—no, marched—across the grass, assuming she’d keep up with him.
He was angry, and had every right to be. Right now she had to pick her battles. How she dealt with him now would affect everything that happened from this moment on.
He stopped beneath an elm, shoved his hands into his pockets and stared out over the glittering water of the river. Shannyn held her breath, waiting for the explosion, not knowing what to say, wondering what his first words would be. She was grateful that they were in a public place. It would preclude a shouting match, and perhaps the presence of others would make him more willing to listen. If she were lucky.
But the words wouldn’t come. When she remained silent, he spoke. Not with anger, not with a shout. With a quiet certainty.
“She’s mine.”
Shannyn nodded, surprised at the sting of tears that filled her eyes at the simple statement, the moment of truth. This was the father of her baby. A man she’d once loved. A man who was all but a stranger now. She tried to focus on the sailboat gliding down the river, but the image blurred.
“What’s her name?”
“Emma.”
She made herself turn and look at him, face this conversation head-on. The time of evading was done. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. But he wouldn’t look at her. His face remained stoic, expressionless.
“Emma is my grandmother’s name.”
“I know.”
“Why did you do that?”
Finally he turned his head from the river. His eyes glowed like polished jade in the shade of the elm.
How could she explain without it seeming more than it was? The truth was she knew how much the Army meant to him. His grandfather had fought in World War II and died. If Emma had been a boy, Shannyn had been going to name him after Jonas’s grandfather Charles. Paying tribute to the wife Charles left behind seemed the next best thing. At the time, it had been the one and only way she planned on connecting her child to her father. Making sure a little bit of Jonas lived on in his daughter. Perhaps she had also done it to assuage what guilt she had at her silence.
“I know how much you love your gram.” She went with the simple explanation.
“Loved. She died two years ago.”
The lump in Shannyn’s throat grew, making it difficult to swallow. So many changes, for everyone. Time didn’t stand still. “I’m sorry.”
Jonas walked away, finding a nearby bench under the elm and bracing his elbows on his knees.
She gave him a few minutes, taking the time to calm herself so she could control the conversation. If that were possible.
She’d done what she thought was best. She also knew Jonas wouldn’t see it that way. She’d wanted to protect Emma. Emma deserved more than a part-time father. More than a dad who would only be around when it worked out with his schedule. She didn’t need a dad out of obligation. They’d been dating when Emma was conceived. She’d known the moment he’d said he was shipping out that he wasn’t interested in a lasting relationship. If he had been, he would have asked her to wait, or asked her to come with him. When she’d discovered she was pregnant, two weeks after he was gone, she knew she couldn’t tell him. He’d already qualified as a sniper. He’d be in danger every day.
Jonas hadn’t wanted more with her, and she hadn’t wanted a man who stayed only because he’d been trapped into a role he hadn’t expected. She’d been a product of that sort of relationship and had seen the devastating consequences of pretending. She’d known from experience that eventually it would have crumbled, and Emma would pay the biggest price. Shannyn had vowed then and there to never put her daughter through that sort of pain.
CHAPTER THREE
JONAS looked over at Shannyn, watching her bite her lip, worrying it. She’d changed. He hadn’t realized how much when they first re-met. But she was a mother now. A mother to a child. A child he’d never known existed. His child. It was hard to reconcile the fun-loving girl he remembered with this woman who seemed so remote and unfeeling. Because her not having told him was cold, and she would never convince him otherwise.
How could she have done that to him? He wanted to reach out and shake her, demand to know what she’d been thinking. Hear her paltry justifications.
Instead he rubbed a hand over his face, struck once more by the image of a curly haired poppet with his eyes, vibrant and excited. A huge argument wouldn’t accomplish anything, and he knew it. But keeping his cool outwardly didn’t stop the shock or the anger pulsing through him.
He’d never wanted to be a father. But finding out he was one, knowing she’d kept it a secret, made his blood boil. What had he ever done that was so bad she thought to punish him in this way? The fact that she wouldn’t have said anything if she hadn’t been caught only fueled his anger.
“You shouldn’t have done it,” he finally ground out through his teeth. He kept his voice as level as he could; too many people were around and he didn’t want to make a huge spectacle. “You had no right to deny me my own child.”
Shannyn moved a step or two closer. “I can explain.”
Jonas stared out over the river. How much time had he spent in this very water during his training? How many times had they gone boating or swimming, feeling the cold slickness of the water on each other’s skin? How had things gotten to this point? How could it be that they were in this place again, strangers dealing with something as intimate as a shared child?
His heart pounded as memories flooded back, unfaded by time. When had Emma been conceived? On a day like today? Years ago, on an afternoon like this, he would have found a secluded spot downriver. He would have made love to her there in the heat of the afternoon. Things had burned hot between them from the very beginning. And fires that burned hot usually were extinguished just as quickly.
Only it hadn’t. It had smoldered all this time in his memories of her.
He had good memories. Memories of the two of them together during a summer that had been more than a fling. Memories he’d kept tucked away, bringing them out only when the pressure got to be too much. Memories that were now suddenly tarnished by a gigantic lie.
“Nothing you can say will justify keeping this from me.”
“Please Jonas, just hear me out.”
“Hear you out? What can you possibly say that will make this right? I left for Edmonton six years ago. And you knew you were carrying my child and let me go anyway, none the wiser.”
His hand automatically found his thigh, rubbing it absently
