The SEAL's Second Chance Baby (16 page)

“Slow down,” Marsh said. “How was school?”

“It was okay. I got in trouble for throwing a tater tot at lunch, but then I did real good in art class! Look what I drawed!”

“Drew,” Effie said from behind her son.

“That's what I meant.” Colt took a folded piece of white construction paper from his back pocket and handed it to Marsh. “Look! It's us!”

Marsh carefully unfolded the paper to find that the boy had drawn him and Effie holding hands. Marsh carried Cassidy on his shoulders and he held Colt's hand while Effie held Remington's—easily discernible by the fact that Remington's eyeballs were on the ground. “What happened to your brother's poor eyes?”

“They got ate by the scorpions! See?” He pointed to dozens of squiggles on the bottom of the page. Aside from his twin's blindness, the scene was idyllic, with a crude representation of Mabel's house and barn covered by lots of blue sky and a smiling yellow sun.

“This is great, buddy. You did real good.”

Tucker used to love to draw. Marsh had a box filled with stick-figure family drawings that he hadn't looked at since after his funeral.

To look would hurt too damned much.

“I drawed, too!” Remington pushed his way into the conversation, brandishing a similar image, only with Colt behind bars. “But my brother's in jail 'cause he's always in trouble. He lost his eyeballs, too, and now you love me most!”

“Aw, I love both of you. Come here.” He pulled them into a group hug. Marsh laughed past the knot in his throat. “You two are the best artists I've seen in a long time.”
The best since my son died.

“I'm best!” Colt said.

“No, I am!” Remington argued.

“Both of you are amazing.” When the boys started smacking each other, Effie stepped between them. “Except for when you're fighting.”

The agitated ponies agreed.

“Knock it off,” Marsh said.

The boys stopped.

For a few seconds, pride washed through Marsh. It meant a lot that the boys respected him, but it wasn't cool that they didn't show their mom the same treatment. “Both of you please apologize to your mom for not listening to her.”

“Sorry, Mom,” Remington said.

“Sorry,” Colt said.

“Thank you.” Effie hugged them both. “Now, let's get started so we can get home to your great-grandma. She's got a to-do list taller than both of you combined.”

“Whoa!” Colt said. “That's humongous!”

Marsh ruffled his hair, then got both settled into their saddles. Something wasn't right. Then he remembered. “Everybody climb off. I forgot your helmets. And remember our first safety rule?”

“Never ride without a helmet,” Remington said.

“They'll be wearing their white cowboy hats for the wedding,” Effie said. “Just this once I think they'll be all right.”

“Eff...” Marsh crossed his arms. Had she forgotten he'd lost a son to a preventable accident? If Tucker had been wearing a life jacket, he might still be alive.

“I know you're hypersensitive about this issue, but trust me, they'll be fine.” She slipped her arm around his waist. “Promise.”

Marsh clenched his jaw, mumbling under his breath, “For the record, I don't like it.”

“Duly noted. So the sooner we get started, the sooner they'll be safely back in their car seats.” She kissed his cheek. “Really, stop glowering. They'll be fine.”

He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Breathe.
She was right. He was overreacting. All he had to do was get through this damned wedding, and then life would be back to his new normal—only better, because he had Effie and the boys and Cassidy to share it.

“Okay, guys,” Marsh said, “which one of you wants to go first?”

“Meeeee!”
They, of course, both said at once.

“Since Remington didn't throw a tater tot at lunch—” Effie tried her best to look stern, but Marsh wasn't buying it “—he gets to ride first.”

“Aw, that's not fair.” Colt kicked, which annoyed the hell out of his pony, who jumped and took off at a gallop. Colt screamed, and Marsh's heart damn near stopped until he got the boy to rein in the stubby-legged creature.

“See?” Marsh said to Effie. “This is why the boys need to always wear their helmets. Especially you, Colt. You've got to watch your temper around this guy.” He stroked his mane. “He doesn't like sudden movements or loud noises.”

“Okay,” Colt said. He leaned low in his saddle to hug the creature. “I'm sorry. I won't do it again.”

“Good to know.” Pride welled in Marsh's chest. He'd take this as an excellent sign of progress with the boy. “Remington, you ready?”

“I think so? My pony isn't going to do that, is he?”

“Nope. In fact, all you need to do is give him a gentle nudge, just like I showed you, and he'll walk nice and slow right where you want to go.”

“Let me unlock the church.” Effie ran ahead.

Remington walked his pony to the first set of stairs. “Now what?”

“Show him you want to go forward. He might not like the steps, but just like when we're climbing a rocky trail, he knows what to do.”

“I'm scared.”

“You can do it,” Marsh urged. “I'll be right beside you the whole time.”

“Promise?” Remington asked.

“Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.”

The boy flinched. “Don't poke your eyeball! That would hurt!”

“I'm just messing with you.” He used to say the silly rhyme with Tucker all the time. It had slipped out as naturally as if he'd once again been talking to his son instead of Effie's. But then what Marsh had to remember was that by this time on Saturday, Remington would officially be his son, too. Every time he got butterflies about the convoluted ceremony and reception, he only needed to remind himself of that fact. One hectic day was well worth a lifetime's happiness. “Let's go.”

Remington made it up the three stairs without issue, then ambled inside the chapel's massive door. “Look!” he shouted. “I did it!”

His voice echoed in the towering, stone-walled space, and then all hell broke loose when his pony realized he wasn't outside and had nowhere to run.

He bucked like a pinball machine lever and took Remington along for the ride—at least until the boy couldn't hold on any longer.

“Mommy!” he cried, before hitting the wood floor.

Crack.
There was the sound of bone snapping.

Blood gushed in an unholy mess.

A bump was already rising on his forehead, and he was quiet, so quiet. Had he fainted from the pain? Or was he already gone?

Marsh froze while the ringing in his head screamed,
Not again. No, no, no—please God, don't let me lose another child.

Chapter Seventeen

“Colt!” Effie shouted. “Go get my phone out of the car and call 911.”

“Yes, ma'am!” He took off.

“Remington, sweetie.” Effie knelt beside her son. “Pumpkin, can you hear me?”

The boy groaned. “Mommy, I hurt. Everything hurts.”

“I know, sweetie. Help is coming real soon. Stay with me. You probably have a concussion, so stay super still, okay?”

“Okay, Mommy. Are my eyeballs in my head?”

“They sure are, silly.” She sniffed through silent tears. Marsh noted worry in her expression, but her voice was calm and soothing—exactly how it should be given the situation.

Meanwhile, he was a wreck. His pulse raced ninety to nothing and he couldn't seem to hear beyond the constant ringing in his ears.

“Marsh,” she said, “could you please get the pony? He looks trapped at the front of the chapel and is probably scared.”

“Sure.” How could she be so calm? Wasn't she mad or scared or freaked out? He couldn't move. Why wouldn't his legs work? What the hell was wrong with him? All he could do was stare at all that blood...

“Give me your shirt,” Effie said. “Who knows how long it will take the ambulance, and we need to get that bleeding under control.”

“Sure. Right.” Marsh abandoned the pony, which seemed calm enough at the moment, and followed Effie's command. Her voice became his lighthouse. His salvation. Remington wasn't dead. He was very much alive and needing help.

“I don't want to move him, so let's make a tourniquet.”

Marsh handed her his shirt.

She gingerly slipped the shirt beneath her son's thigh, then wrapped the sleeves around a slim hymnal she'd found in the back of a pew, twisting the fabric around it to use for torque. It was a brilliant field move—one Marsh should have thought of first, but his mind was gone.

“I called the number, Mommy!” Colt returned to kneel at his brother's side. “Love you, Rem. I was teasing about scorpions eating your eyeballs. Please be all right.” He fit his hand against his brother's, lying down next to him while being careful not to bump against him. “You can go first at the wedding.”

“Love you, Colt.” Remington's complexion had turned ashen.

Marsh wrangled the pony outside, then took off his saddle and brushed him before guiding him into the trailer. While periodically checking on Effie's youngest son, he did the same for Colt's pony.

By the time the ambulance came, he watched from the sidelines while Effie explained what happened to the paramedics like a pro. Her nursing education shone through. Seemed a shame that she wasn't sharing that knowledge with the world. He was in awe of her calm. Meanwhile, as he watched her climb into the back of the ambulance with Colt, his insides were shredded.

As if he were talking through water, he heard himself tell her and the two boys that he'd meet them at the ER as soon as he dropped the ponies back at the ranch, but the words didn't make sense. He and Wallace could return for her car later. All that mattered now was making sure Remington would be okay.

* * *

E
FFIE
WOKE
FROM
a catnap.

It was ten o'clock, and darkness had long since fallen.

Remington had been in surgery for two hours.

The surgical waiting room of Arkansas Valley Regional in La Junta was packed with loved ones and friends. Colt had fallen asleep on Marsh's lap and rested his head on his shoulder. Patricia had taken Cassidy to her house for the night, and Marsh's parents chatted softly with Mabel and Wallace. Remington's teacher had heard about his accident and was with her husband, talking to a PTA mom. Effie's parents were in transit from their Oklahoma home.

The outpouring of affection for her son touched Effie deeply. For ages, she'd felt alone without Moody. Yet all along, she'd walked with friends.

As for whether she and Marsh would still be married on Saturday, she'd let Remington's health dictate that call. His doctor said the break was clean, but it had needed to be set, and since the bone had broken through skin, he'd lost a lot of blood and needed extensive stitching along with an open reduction and internal fixation procedure to pin his bone. Nerve damage looked minimal. He had a concussion, and had already been scanned for internal bleeding in his head. Thankfully, that test had come back clean. Marsh had been right. Both boys should have worn helmets when riding. She'd insist upon it in the future—assuming she was able to get Remington back on his pony.

The Wizard of Oz
played on TV, and a toddler boy who belonged with another family danced and hummed along.

She glanced at Marsh and found him staring at the boy. What was her fiancé thinking? Since the accident, they'd hardly spoken. Suspecting he'd feel guilty, she'd told him before leaving in the ambulance that the event hadn't been his fault, but had he believed her?

He smoothed Colt's hair.

His love for her son was plain to see, but what did he feel for her? Would he want to put off their marriage until Remington fully recovered? If so, what would that mean for their future? She was too exhausted to think further than her son having a successful surgery.

“Mind company?” Marsh's mother, Jacinda, took the empty seat next to Effie. From their initial meeting shortly before Remington had been whisked off, she'd struck Effie as a lovely woman—inside and out. Her hug had been long and genuine. She was tall with long dark hair she'd styled in a neat ponytail. She wore jeans with a forest green sweater set and a chunky wood necklace. Her dark eyes matched her son's and had plenty of laugh lines at the corners. “I hate that we couldn't have met under happier circumstances.”

“Oh—I am happy,” Effie said. “This could have much worse. Rem will heal and soon be back to normal. This is only a bump in the road compared to what your family went through.”

“You mean with Tucker?” She raised her eyebrows. Was she surprised Marsh had told her about his son? Why wouldn't he? As man and wife, Effie didn't think any topic was off-limits. “Yes. Losing him was one of the toughest things we've faced. I lost my mom not too long ago, and that was hard, but more along the natural order of things. By my age, I'd mentally prepared myself, you know? But with my grandson...” She shook her head. “How can anyone ever prepare for such a tragedy?”

Effie nodded.

“I can't tell you how excited I've been to meet you. Marsh and I chat—probably more than he'd like.” She cracked a smile. “The difference you've made in his life is remarkable. Before you—forgive me if I sound melodramatic—I sometimes felt as if he spent his days marking time, waiting for his own death so he could be with his son. But then he'd mention a funny thing one of your sons had done, or how he got to hold your baby girl, and gradually, layer by layer, it was as if your light scrubbed the grief from his soul. Thank you.”

Tears stung Effie's eyes.

“That's funny,” Effie said without smiling, “because I feel the same about him. When my marriage fell apart, I ended up hiding at my grandmother's. She'd always been my rock in times of trouble, and this time around was no different. Marsh is the only other person who's made me feel as safe as she does.”

She beamed. “Then you love him?”

For Jacinda's sake, because she seemed to need that confirmation, Effie nodded. But did she love Marsh? Marriage was one thing, but love somehow seemed more intimate—the final plunge that signified she'd well and truly left her past in the past and was wholeheartedly ready to move forward.

“Ms. Washington?” Still wearing scrubs, Remington's doctor stood before them.

“Yes.” Effie asked, “How is my son?”

“Fantastic. He lost a lot of blood, but we gave him a couple units and he responded like a champ. His leg is set and in a cast—we left a window for wound care. I have a son about his age and took a chance on picking a color for him—red. Do you think that's okay?”

Effie laughed, beyond relieved that the most serious item they had to discuss was her son's cast color. She was beyond thankful that so little else had been wrong. After thanking the doctor, he told her that Remington would need to stay the night for observation, and an orderly would come for her once he'd been taken to his room.

“I'm happy for you,” Jacinda said with tears in her eyes. Had the accident taken her back to that dark day when she'd received the ultimate bad news about her grandson? Was Marsh feeling the same? Trapped in a bleak past that refused to free him? “If your boy feels up to it, maybe you can still have your wedding as planned.”

“Hope so,” Effie said. She needed to talk to Marsh. To make sure his head was in an all right place. Those initial moments after the accident had been brutal. She'd relied on her training to get her through. But what served as Marsh's anchor? Initially, his coloring had been as off as Remington's. In those hectic seconds, had he suffered through losing Tucker all over again?

She looked in his direction, but Colt was still sleeping on him. Marsh rested his chin atop Colt's head while staring into space.

“Now that the crisis has passed,” Jacinda said, “I'll have Clive take me to our B and B.”

Effie nodded, but inside she couldn't help but wonder if the crisis had truly passed in regard to her fiancé. Or if it had just begun.

* * *

“D
ADDY
,
LOOK
!” T
UCKER
COULD
hardly hold the catfish he'd reeled in with his Snoopy fishing pole.

“Jeez, buddy, he's huge! Great job!” He tried high-fiving his little guy, but with the five-pound fish squirming, giggling Tucker struggled to stay on his feet. “Do we want to eat him for dinner or set him free?”

“Set him free!” Had there ever been a question? His softhearted guy loved animals and always had the same answer. Soon enough, he'd learn some of the food he ate came from the creatures he adored, but until then, Marsh preferred to keep his innocence as long as possible.

“Mommy, look!” Tucker showed off his catch to Leah, who had wandered to the lake from their campsite. It was a stunning day—temps in the low seventies with the sweet scent of their morning campfire and coffee lingering.

“Sweetie, he's gorgeous. Is Daddy helping you let him go?”

“Uh-huh.” Tucker's grin lit his entire face.

Marsh's heart damn near burst from happiness.

This was what life was about—sharing the simple things with folks you love. He and Leah talked about her having another baby—this go-round, crossing their fingers for a girl. Time would tell. Luckily, they had all the time in the world.

“Daddy, help!”

In slow motion, Marsh turned his gaze to his son. The fish was no longer bucking to return to the water, but it had died, and there was blood—so much blood. Crimson covered Tucker—his forearms and cheeks and hair. It was everywhere.

Leah screamed for Marsh to save their son, but suddenly Tucker stood mired in inky water with a tar-like consistency that Marsh couldn't swim through. He tried and tried, but failed. And then it was too late, and his pride and joy, his everything, his son, floated dead with the fish.

“Noooooo!” Marsh cried, but the sound wouldn't escape his lips. The more he tried, the more his throat closed until he clawed at himself for air.

“Sir? Wake up.” A nurse shook Marsh to consciousness from the nightmare. “Everything's okay.”

Marsh bolted upright. His heart pounded as if he'd completed a marathon.

He glanced from the nurse to the sterile hospital room to the very much alive boy asleep in the bed. By the grace of God, Remington looked normal, save for the huge red cast on his right leg.

“You all right?” the nurse asked. “That must have been quite a dream.”

“Yeah. I'm good. Thanks.” But he wasn't—at all. And with the wedding only days away, that scared him. Effie and her kids deserved all of him, and clearly, a huge chunk of his soul was still back in Virginia with his son.

“I'll be back.” The nurse wagged Remington's call box. “Press the button if either of you need anything.”

“Will do. Thanks.”

Around midnight, Marsh had driven Effie and Colt home. Remington had breezed through surgery and rested comfortably enough for her to at least get herself and Colt a few hours' rest before he was due on the school bus and she picked up Cassidy from Patricia's.

Patricia's husband and one of his friends had already moved her SUV from the chapel to Mabel's.

It was now 3:00 a.m.

Marsh had told Effie he'd spend the night at Wallace's, then they'd ride over in the morning to spend the day with Remington, but he'd been so consumed with dark thoughts of what could happen to the boy if he wasn't there, personally watching over Remington's recovery, that he'd doubled back.

“Mommy?” The weak voice jolted Marsh to full operating capacity. In a flash, he was on his feet and at Remington's bedside.

“She's not here, bud. But I am. How are you doing?”

“Hi, Mr. Marsh... I'm good... Look at my red leg.” He was drowsy from meds, and judging by his loopy smile, was thankfully not feeling any pain.

“I see. Pretty impressive.” Marsh struggled to speak past the wall of emotion blocking his throat.

The boy's eyes were already drifting closed.

“That's right, get some rest. You'll have plenty of time to talk in the morning.”

Marsh returned to the padded bench seat that ran the length of the window. He needed to sleep himself. Judging by Marsh's nightmare, Remington wasn't the only one needing time to heal.