The SEAL's Miracle Baby. Laura Marie Altom
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“What’s wrong with you?” Eyes narrowed, she drew in her lower lip. “You never used to be this cruel.”
“I’m not cruel, Jess, but direct. There’s a difference.”
“Semantics...”
“So, in summary, you want me to buck up and play nice?”
“Would that be so hard?”
More like impossible.
He rubbed his jaw, searching for the right thing to say when all he wanted was for her to tell him the truth. That day in the Dairy Barn that no longer existed, there’d been so much more to their story. There still was. Only, for whatever reason, she’d refused to end it. Oh—she’d verbally ended it. But in his heart—where it mattered—he couldn’t help but feel as though they still had a long way to go before he, at least, found closure.
“I know this is tough, everyone.” The next morning, Jessie’s school principal looked strangely out of character in his plaid shorts, Rock Bluff Elementary T-shirt, ball cap and sneakers. “But again, I need you to sift through this rubble for anything salvageable. Our budget is nil, so every pencil and pair of scissors counts. I fear most textbooks will be water damaged, but maybe a few made it out all right. Questions?”
When no one seemed unclear as to their mission, they got to work.
For safety reasons, no students were invited to help, but many faculty members and parents who lived out of the storm’s path and whose homes were unaffected had come out to lend a hand.
Though the work was hot and messy and mostly unproductive, it did get Jessie away from her depressing apartment wreckage and her parents’ house—or, more to the point, away from Grady.
Some of the things he’d said had been horrible. The only reason she hadn’t lashed out at him had been the knowledge that her lies had created his animosity. Meaning she essentially had no one to blame for his derision but herself.
She remembered every second of their time together. Above all, she cherished the moments after they’d made love, when he’d held her warm and secure in his arms. They’d talked for hours about their shared future. Neither had had college aspirations. They’d both wanted to lead simple, happy country lives like those of their parents.
She knelt to pick up the tin-can pencil holder one of her favorite students had made for her. Paul was now in fifth grade. It made her heart ache to think the only children she’d ever have were her students, but that was okay. At least she was lucky enough to have a career she loved, where every day other people shared their smart, cute and funny kids with her.
“Your mom said I’d find you here.” Grady stood near what used to be her students’ cozy reading nook. He wore desert-camo cargo pants, heavy work boots and a blue Navy T-shirt that made his chest look broad enough to need its own zip code. She instantly yearned to touch him, which only made her resent his presence more.
“This is where I work,” she snapped, “or at least it used to be. I can’t argue with you.”
“Who said I wanted to argue?”
“Then, why are you here?”
He shrugged, then shoved one hand into his pocket and took a sip from a jumbo drink from Ron’s Hamburgers. It was strange how the storm had played God—selecting who got to keep their lives and who had to start over. Maude Clayborn—the owner of the burger joint—had drawn the lucky straw. Knowing Grady like she did, Jessie suspected he was drinking sweet tea. “Partially, I’m here because my mom made me. Mostly, because I owe you an apology for last night.”
No, no, no, her heart cried. Don’t you dare be nice to me. Hating you is much easier than the alternative.
“You’re right, I was an ass, but you have to admit to leaving me in the lurch. You even kept my damned ring. That thing cost three summers’ lawn-mowing money. Do you even still have it? Or did you pawn it?”
The very idea incensed her. “Of course I have it—somewhere.” I wear it on a chain every day to remind me to never settle for anything less than real love. It was on now, dangling between her breasts.
“Great. Then, I want it back.”
“You can’t be serious. And anyway, the ring might be lost.”
He laughed—only the sound struck her as more dangerous than jovial. “Oh—I’m as serious as getting an STD on your birthday.”
Her eyes widened in horror. “Did you? You know, get one of those...on your—”
“Good Lord, Jess, it’s just an expression.”
She nodded. Of course. But with him being a Navy SEAL and better looking than any man had a right to be, she didn’t doubt him having a girl in every port.
“And don’t try changing the topic. If my ring’s lost—find it. Since you don’t want me, maybe I’ll give it to some other woman.”
Over my dead body. “Okay, but obviously I don’t have it with me now.”
“Fine. Just don’t forget.” He surveyed the mess, then sipped from his drink. “What do you need me to do?”
Leave! Unfortunately, if she wanted to finish this task by Christmas, she needed his help. “There’s a pile of plastic sacks over there on my file cabinet. Grab one and start picking up anything of value.”
* * *
GRADY WOULD BE damned if he’d let anyone at that school work harder than him. By the end of the day, he’d filled dozens of sacks with pencils and crayons and heartbreaking little school pics with scribbled notes on the backs.
The work was hot and dirty and he felt as though dust had settled into every pore.
Jessie’s shoulders sagged, and the ponytail that had earlier that day shone in the sun now hung limp and coated in the same gray dust covering their bodies and clothes.
If she were still his girl, once they got home he’d have carried her to their shower, then scrubbed her down till her skin shone pink. Then he’d run her a bath, squirting in a healthy amount of the strawberry bubbles she’d always loved. Next, he’d have settled in alongside her, kissing her till the sun went down and the water turned cold. He’d fix her a simple dinner. Maybe steaks on the grill. He’d rub her aching feet and make love to her before they spooned into sleep.
They’d have the best night, every night.
But all of that was just a dream. And even though he could have kept on working for another twelve hours, he knew she couldn’t, so he said, “How about we head back to your folks’? See what our moms cooked for dinner?”
She arched her head back, in the process showing him the mesmerizing curve of her neck. “Sounds like a plan.”
On their way to drop off the