Christy Jeffries - The Seal's Secret Daughter

“And sending her off with some stranger to a foster home wouldn’t be even scarier?”

“I can hear you, you know,” Trina called out, not bothering to turn around.

Monica pursed her lips and shot Ethan a pointed look of annoyance since she couldn’t very well say, Now look what you did .

“Sorry, Trina.” Ethan returned to where his daughter was seated.

Monica held her breath. She really should be back in the dining room, checking on her customers. But her heart was tearing apart at the way the girl just shrugged everything off, no longer making eye contact with the man who’d fathered her.

“I’m normally not so rude,” he offered, and Monica had to give him that. In fact, Ethan was usually quite a smooth talker. Too smooth, if you asked her. “But seeing you, finding out...well, I’ve just been caught off guard.”

Just then, Scooter Deets, one of the old-timers who ate at the café every morning, sauntered by the pass-through window and held up a hot pink coffee mug. Scooter had checked out a book on plumbing two years ago and his overdue fine was pushing triple digits. “Don’t mind me, y’all. I’m just grabbing myself a refill.”

Trying to fill up on gossip was more like it, Monica thought.

“I’ll be right there,” she said to the cowboy, who was normally hard of hearing unless there was something juicy going on. Monica turned to Trina. “Give me a couple of minutes and we’ll put our heads together and figure something out.”

“What’s there to figure out? She’s my daughter. She’s coming home with me.”

Monica pursed her lips and pointed to the corner of shelves so that Trina wouldn’t have to listen to them talking about her. Again. This time, when he followed her, Monica steeled herself for his closeness. “What do you even know about raising a child, much less a daughter?”

“Like I said, I’m a bit out of sorts, so you’ll have to forgive me for being rude,” Ethan started, indicating that something rude was about to come out of his normally smirking mouth. “But it really isn’t your business.”

The insult hit its mark and Monica’s aggravated groan sounded more like a defensive gasp. “You’re right, Ethan Renault. You’re not my business at all, thank God. However, someone needs to be looking out for what’s best for Trina and you obviously haven’t shown an interest in doing so in the past.”

“I didn’t even know she existed before this morning,” he hissed. “So how could I have shown anything in the past?”

“Psfhh.” Monica’s hands went to her hips. “The fact that you didn’t know in the first place is telling enough.”

“I was in high school the last time I saw her mom. I was just a dumb kid back then. How would you like someone to judge you for what you did when you were a teenager?”

The breath caught in Monica’s throat. When she’d been that age, she’d been working two jobs and studying around the clock to keep her grades high enough to win a college scholarship. She was more likely to be judged for being a boring stick-in-the-mud.

The squeaking hinge of the kitchen’s back door sounded and Monica looked up, expecting to see the cook returning from his break. Instead, she saw nobody. When she glanced over to where Trina was sitting, the only thing left was an empty plate.

“Oh hell,” Ethan said, running a hand through his short hair and sprinting toward the door.

The flash of panic had been evident on his face and Monica suddenly regretted every accusation she’d just thrown his way. She’d been reliving all of her old painful memories of her own father and projecting those past hurts onto an easy target.

She followed Ethan to the back door, but before she could exit, he came barreling back inside. “She’s not in the alley.”

“Where do you think she could’ve gone?” Monica gnawed on her lower lip.

“I have no idea. I really don’t know anything about her. When she showed up on my doorstep an hour ago, she looked cold and hungry. I didn’t have anything for her to eat so that’s why we came here. I was hoping to get some answers, but now she’s disappeared.”

A tinkling bell sounded over the front door and Monica wanted to stomp her foot in frustration. Now wasn’t the time for more customers to show up.

“Maybe she went back to your place?” Monica suggested. Every fiber in her body wanted to chase after the poor girl and keep her safe, but she couldn’t until the second waitress came on duty for her shift. “You go look for her there and I’ll stay here in case she comes back.”

“It took me eleven years to find her,” Ethan said, his eyes pleading with Monica’s as though she was the only one who could help him. “I don’t want to lose her again.”

* * *

“I have no clue where to even look for her,” Ethan said to his boss over the phone’s speaker as he slowly cruised his truck up and down Snowflake Boulevard, the center of the touristy Victorian downtown. Since he was expected at his contracting job at eight, it seemed only responsible to call his employer and confide in everything that had happened.

“Maybe you should call the police department,” Kane Chatterson offered.

“I’m pretty sure I heard Monica Alvarez say she was going to call when I tore out of the Cowgirl Up half an hour ago. Hold on, my call waiting is beeping.” Ethan looked at his screen and saw the number. His adrenaline, which had been pumping steadily until this point, suddenly nosedived. “It’s the police. I’ll call you back.”

Switching over to the other line, Ethan didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Carmen, did you find her?”

“Monica found her in the ladies’ room at the Cowgirl Up,” Officer Carmen Gregson replied, and Ethan’s exhale came out in a whoosh. “Apparently, she circled back and went in the front door, but Monica didn’t have your cell number. I’m heading over there now, but we might want to go somewhere a little less gossipy than the local diner so we can get this worked out.”

The fear clenching around his gut lessened, yet Ethan’s pulse remained elevated with apprehension. And confusion. Two hours ago, he didn’t even know he had a daughter, didn’t know his world could be so thrown off its axis before it got shaken up and thrown again.

Ethan eased his truck off the road and scrubbed at the lower half of his face, the face he hadn’t had time to shave this morning. More air released from his lungs before he asked, “What do we need to work out?”

“Just a heads-up, Renault...” The police officer, his best friend’s wife, was also former military and it put Ethan more at ease to have someone use his last name. “When Monica called it in, she said the girl mentioned something about a caseworker back in Texas. That means, by law, I’m required to notify them or the local child protective services.”

“Will they take her from me?” Ethan hadn’t exactly been doing cartwheels at the opportunity to be a father, but there was a ball of nausea welling up in his belly at the thought of his child—someone who shared his blood—being raised by a complete stranger.

“Why don’t you meet me at the café and we can walk the girl over to the station or someplace else where we can talk.”

“Right,” Ethan said, returning his foot to the accelerator and steering back onto the road. “I’m on my way.”

Thankfully, his first instinct wasn’t to stop by the bar or the liquor store before he got there—not that either would be open this early. Still, it was a relief that his steady hands now offered his mixed-up mind some focus. Ethan again toyed with the idea of calling his sponsor to tell him about this recent development, but he didn’t quite know what was going on, let alone know how to explain it. The best thing he could do was talk to Trina and the authorities and figure out his next step.