The SEAL's Second Chance Baby (3 page)

Wallace's story trapped Effie's heart on a spinning carnival ride. Up and down, around and around. Whereas moments earlier, she'd felt contempt for the man, she now ached for him. Had his wife blamed him for the loss of their son? And was that why their marriage died, too?

She drew her lower lip into her mouth. Poor, poor Marsh.

“I didn't share all of this to draw pity. I don't get out much, and am genuinely curious to hear a woman's point of view. Was my wife right to never speak to me again? Was Marsh's wife right to leave him?”

Effie slowly exhaled. “Honestly, without hearing both sides, it's hard to say. But just having heard your version, sounds like you and Marsh both deserved another chance.”

Silent tears streamed down the man's weathered cheeks.

He wadded his napkin, turning his back to her while drying his eyes. “I'm a silly old fool.”

She rose to hug him. “It's never wrong to love someone, and it sounds to me like you and your grandson loved your wives very much.”

Achy longing took hold in Effie's gut.

More than anything, all she'd ever wanted besides being a nurse was to be a great mom and to be loved. Love seemed like such a simple thing. Lots of people had it. What was it about her that Moody had found so unlovable?

Would any guy find her worthy of his affection?

She chided herself for even asking the question. With three kids and a grandmother and ragtag ranch to tend, the last thing she had time to even think about was a man.

Chapter Three

Marsh woke to bright sun, cartoons and fighting. Since none of that made sense, he closed his eyes, figuring when he next woke, life would once again be normal.

Give it!

No!

Yes!

Boys!

Something broke.

Both of you sit down. If I have to tell you again, you're not going to Scotty's party.

I hate you! I'm calling Dad!

Colt William Washington!
This voice was different—older sounding, in a scolding, grandmotherly way.

Grandma, I'm sorry. I thought the boys would behave, but—

“Hey...” Marsh fully opened his eyes to find not one boy who would have been older than Tucker when he'd passed, but two. “How come you're giving your mom such a hard time?”

“You're awake!” A petite blonde rushed to his side.
My angel?
He recalled the sweetest humming and soft strokes to his hair. She clapped her hands to flushed cheeks, then her hair, then to his shoulder. “Oh my gosh. I need to get your grandpa. He's going to be so happy.”

One of the boys stepped alongside his mom. “Your hand blew up to the size of a football and had lots of icky gunk squirting out of it. It was
awesome
!”

Not to be outdone, a clone of the first boy said, “When I was little, a stick poked out my eyeball!”

“Remington, Colt, come here.” The grandmotherly voice was attached to a slim body with spiky white hair. “Leave that poor man alone.”

Marsh licked his lips. “Would one of y'all mind helping me out with a few clues as to what's going on?”

The boy scampered to a window seat, where he joined his other half in coloring in a Transformers book with crayons.

“I'm sorry.” The angel's flighty hands were back to her cheeks. “I'm Effie. You were bitten by a rattler, and I found you and your horse. These little hellions are my boys—Colt and Remington. And this—” she put her arm around the older woman who had her impish smile “—is Mabel. My saint of a grandmother, who took us all in.”

Mabel said, “We're your grandfather's neighbors to the east.”

“Guess I owe you a heap of gratitude.” Marsh struggled just to scratch his stubble-covered jaw. “Everything that happened is kind of a blur.”
Mostly what I remember is you, Effie. The way you made me want to fight my way back from the dark.

A crying whimper came from somewhere near the window.

His angel headed that way to pluck an infant from a carrier. With a cherub-cheeked mini version of herself, only with curls, settled on her hip, Effie returned. “This is Cassidy. She gets cranky when she's left out of the action.”

“Don't blame her.” Marsh tried reaching for the nearest of the infant's bare feet, but even that small effort seemed too great. The sensation of not being in control of his body was not only unfamiliar, but intolerable.

He needed out of this bed
now
.

“You probably shouldn't try to do too much at once.”

“Lifting my arm is hardly too much.”

“I'll be damned...” His grandfather took off his cowboy hat while entering the cramped room. “You lived.”

“Don't have to sound so excited about it.”

His granddad chuckled. “Believe you me, I am. If something happened to you while you were out here, your mama would have my hide.”

“True.” For as long as Marsh could remember, Wallace had been part of his life. He called every Sunday morning and sent him cash-filled cards for holidays with extra on his birthdays. When Marsh's perfect family had officially gone to hell, and his CO told him to get his head on straight and not even think about coming back until he'd made peace with his son's passing and his wife leaving, the only place that made sense for him to go was to the ranch where he'd spent every childhood and teen summer. His maternal grandmother's Thoroughbred farm where he'd grown up was home, but about as regimented as his Navy schedule. What he needed was plenty of time and wide-open spaces to make sense out of the mess that had become of his life. “Have you talked to Mom? Told her I'll be all right?”

Wallace nodded. “She wanted to fly out, but I told her you didn't need a woman interfering in your business.”

“Sounds like something you'd say.” Mabel crossed her arms, and a slash replaced her pretty smile.

“Thank you for proving my point,” his grandfather snapped before slapping his hat back on his head.

Never had Marsh wished more for the strength to form a simple time-out T with his hands. After the two septuagenarians bickered for another five minutes, he glanced toward Effie and caught her gaze.

She smiled.

His chest tightened when they shared a moment of mutual frustration with their elders.

“Gramma?” One of the boys had left his coloring book to cock his head and stare up at her. “How come you tell me and Colt not to fight, but you and Mr. Wallace fight, too?”

Marsh didn't even try hiding a smile.

Effie squeezed her son's shoulder, steering him toward the door. “Colt, would you please pack up your coloring books and crayons, then grab Cassidy's carrier. We should probably go.”

“Agreed.” Mabel glared toward Marsh's grandfather. “I need out of here before this darn fool goes and tells me again that I'm shakin' like a wet dog.”

“You're still holding a grudge about that?” Wallace asked.

Effie winced. “Remington, please help your brother put those crayons back in the box.”

“Woman...” Wallace made the mistake of pointing his finger in Mabel's face. She looked angry enough that Marsh wouldn't have put it past her to break his grandpa's finger clear off. “What in the world are you talking about?”

“Oh—now, you're going to fake amnesia? My poor Dwayne had barely been in his grave a year, and I was finally able to get back to square dancing. You blustered into the regular Saturday night party and sauntered up to me without even taking off your hat. Then you said those horrible words, and Wallace Stokes, I've hated you ever since.”

“Hated me? I said you shook like a dog as a compliment. I used to have an old hound named Peacock, and I loved that girl something fierce. Nothing made me happier than taking her down to the swimming hole and watching her play in the water, and then shake off. Made me smile—truly. Just like your dancing.” He removed his big black cowboy hat, pressing it to his chest while making the strangest smile. “Miss Mabel, from the bottom of my heart, I give you my deepest, most sincere apology.”

Mabel shook her head. “Boys, hurry along before we all suffocate from Mr. Stokes's bloviating hot air.”

“Grandma.” Effie shifted her baby to her other hip. “Wallace said he was sorry. After hearing his explanation, don't you think this is all sort of funny?”

Marsh yawned. “I don't mean to interfere in anyone's business, but I sure could use a nap.”

“Aw, now, I'm sorry,” Effie said to him. “Boys, Grandma—let's go.”

“Gladly.” Mabel huffed and headed toward the door.

The boys marched behind her, as did Wallace, smooth talking all the way out into the hall.

When only Effie remained, she said, “I really am sorry. After what you've been through, you should have woken to a nice, peaceful scene.”

“It's all right.” He cast her a faint smile. “Guess I'm lucky to even be alive.” Which surprised him. At what point had he decided living was better than dying?

“You sure are.” She came close enough to cup her hand to his shoulder. Her simple, kind touch flooded him with a sense of calm and well-being. “Since my crew isn't exactly suitable for hospital visits, now that you're awake, I probably won't be back.”

“Sure. I understand.” Only he didn't. Why did he suddenly want more than anything to see her and her wild brood again? “Thanks for the time you were here—and for calling an ambulance for my pitiful behind.”

“It was my pleasure.” When she smiled, the pleasure was all his.

* * *

“T
HAT
MUST
HAVE
been horrible.”

“It was,” Effie said.

It was Sunday afternoon, and while the twins splashed in Scotty's pool, Effie sat at the back porch table with Cassidy asleep on her lap. Scotty's mother, Patricia, and three other moms she'd just met whose names she couldn't remember had shared Little League gossip until the conversation turned to Marsh's snakebite ordeal, whose injury made the local paper.

“Will he regain full use of his hand?” one of the moms asked. She had big hair and wore an equally large purple sundress patterned with cows jumping over pink moons.

“Hope so.” Effie wished she knew what was going on with Marsh. Had he been released? It seemed strange that she'd spent so much time with him when he'd been unconscious, yet now that he was awake, she hadn't seen him at all. How could she miss him when she didn't even know him?

The conversation wound to the upcoming school year that officially started in the morning. Effie excused herself to grab the boys from the pool. With all the excitement over Marsh, she hadn't even started shopping for their supplies.

Rounding the edge of the free-form pool, she couldn't help but notice how luxurious Patricia's home was. Scotty's father, Roy, was a lawyer, and had spent more time on his cell phone than playing with the boys, but now he'd joined his wife on the porch. They shared a kiss, and when he whispered something for only her to hear, Effie fought a jealous pang.

She didn't miss Moody, per se, but she missed the intimacy of being a couple. Of knowing no matter what curves life threw her way, he had her back. Only in the end, he hadn't. The fact still kept her up nights, and when the boys acted out, it made her more convinced than ever that they needed a firm masculine presence in their lives.

Effie turned from the happy couple to summon her boys.

The pool had been constructed to resemble a country pond. A pile of boulders at the deep end featured a grotto with a swim-up bar and slide. Country music played from speakers hidden in more rocks, and the sweet scent of petunias blended with suntan lotion and chlorine and lingering smoke from the grill to form the perfect backdrop for a lazy summer afternoon.

“Colt! Remington!” she called above the splashing, shifting Cassidy to her other hip. “We need to go!”

“No!” Colt swooshed his hand through the water, creating a massive wave. “We're having fun!”

“Now.”
Effie walked to the pool's edge. “If you're not out of this pool by the time I count to ten, you're grounded from TV and your friends for the whole first week of school.”

Cassidy must have sensed the change in her mother's mood, as she whimpered. “It's okay, sweetie,” Effie said with a light jiggle. “Mommy's not mad at you.”

Remington sloshed to the pool's edge and hopped out, racing across the sandstone pavers for his towel.

“Don't run!” she shouted after him.

Meanwhile, Colt crossed his arms and glared. “I don't wanna go!”

“One.” Why was Colt doing this? He never used to talk back when Moody had been around. Was she such a horrible parent that she'd brought out this defiant streak?

He stood chest-deep in the water, staring.

“Two.”

His friends stopped playing keep-away to gawk. Apparently the parental showdown was more entertaining?

“Three.”

“Colt, come on,” his brother said. “We gotta pick school stuff.”

“No!” Colt looked away to swim to the deep end.

“Four.” Effie's heart pounded. She'd always hated confrontations, and fighting with her son in such a public setting was the worst.

“I'll get him, Mom.” Bless his little heart, Remington handed her his towel, jumped back in the pool, and swam to his brother. He whispered something in his ear, then Colt slapped the water but eventually turned for the shallow end.

“Thanks for your help,” she said when Remington stood beside her while Colt took his time getting his Spider-Man towel.

“You're welcome.”

She wanted to ask Remington what he'd said that had worked such magic but in the end realized she didn't want to know. What if her youngest boy had told his big brother that if he didn't come, Mom was going to have a stroke? Or embarrass them even more in front of their friends?

When Colt finally reached her, Cassidy's weight had taken a toll on Effie's lower back. Eager to place the baby in her car seat, she said to both boys, “Go and thank Mr. and Mrs. Crawford, then get dressed. We need to hurry and get to the store.”

* * *

T
WO
HOURS
LATER
, frazzled didn't begin to cover Effie's mood. The school supplies had cost double what she'd budgeted and Colt had insisted on specialty items instead of plain number-two pencils and standard notebooks. She knew she should have told him no, but it was tough when Remington behaved like a saint in the crowded back-to-school aisle and deserved a little something special for the start of first grade.

She had money tucked away from selling vegetables and eggs at the summer farmer's market, and every so often Moody did send a check, but she hated needing his money and felt guilty living off Mabel's generosity. Effie vowed to one day finish nursing school so she'd be able to support herself.

Last year, Moody had been with her and the boys when they'd shopped for kindergarten supplies. When Colt pitched a fit over wanting the extra-large box of crayons with the built-in sharpener, Moody hefted him over his shoulder and carried him kicking and screaming to the truck.

Unsure what she'd do if Colt behaved like that with her, she'd bowed to his pressure—a horrible parenting move, but what else could she have done? With Cassidy riding in her carrier, if Colt pulled a stunt like running off, her only option would have been hefting his brother into the cart, then chasing after him.