Jolene Navarro - The Soldier's Surprise Family

Pulling his hat low, he ran back into the storm and crossed the yard to retrieve the sheet. The dog followed, leaping and barking like they were playing a game.

“Bumper, get back here,” Anjelica yelled from the top step. The undisciplined dog ignored her.

With one hard yank, he had the sheet down. The two-foot bush had already lost some of its early growth. Small leaves dotted the ground. Using the wind to help, he threw the sheet over the top of the plant. Then Garrett looked around for something to anchor it.

“Here, use these.” Anjelica ran past him to pick up some red bricks lining the bottom of the fence. At least she had mud boots and a hat on this time, along with a bright orange scarf wrapped around her neck.

The pelts of hail grew harder. He tucked his head and drew his shoulders higher. He was apparently as crazy as his landlady.

The dog pulled on the sheet, tossing her head back and forth with a growl. The furball could fit in his pocket but fought with the fierceness of a lion. The pink bow did nothing to soften her attitude.

“I’ve got this!” Garrett pointed toward her porch, hoping she would follow his command. She shook her head and moved to the base of the bush with a brick.

“Bumper! Stop!” The dog darted away from Anjelica and grabbed another corner.

Garrett scooped the bit of fluff up in one hand, holding the pup out of the way while he tucked the heavy sheet around a brick with the other, making sure it was under the bush and tight enough to stay in place.

On the opposite side of the shrub, his tiny landlady crawled out from under the plant and put her hands on her hips. “I think that’ll do it,” she yelled before finally running back to the safety of the deep porch.

He followed. One step behind her, he tried to shield her from the worst of the storm.

Once on the porch, she threw her beat-up hat on a bench, then sat on a worn rocking chair and pulled off a boot. She wore two left rubber boots. One of them had colorful stripes, but the other one was purple with white flowers all over it. Yep, she lived in another world altogether.

“Glad you found proper footwear.”

Waving a delicate hand toward her yard, she said, “This wasn’t in the weather report. I couldn’t find my boots when I realized it was starting to hail.” She pulled off the purple boot and dumped water out of it. “My only thought was to get to my Esperanza. It just started sprouting spring leaves.”

She never made eye contact as she flipped her hair over her shoulder. Wet, it looked black. Instead of the usual colorful blouse, she wore an oversize faded purple T-shirt with Fighting Angoras Football printed across the front. “I know it sounds irrational, but I just wanted to cover my plant.” With a deep sigh, she stood. “Thank you so much for coming to the rescue, but I guess that’s what you do. Rush into danger like a good soldier.” She stood and took Bumper from him. The little dog started licking her face. “You know, now that you’re a father, you’ll have to be more careful.”

His eyebrow lifted high as he stared at her. “Did you really just call me out for being in this storm? I wouldn’t be out in the storm if you had stayed inside.”

She blushed and looked away. “Sorry. I’m not feeling very rational right now.” With the back of her free hand, she wiped at her eyes.

Oh, please don’t cry. He scanned her cluster of outbuildings and enclosed pens behind the garden area, a mismatched collection of painted structures that housed chickens, rabbits and goats. She was the mayor of a miniature village for all the misfit farm animals in the county, and now he was adding two children to the mix. He shouldn’t be surprised she had easily agreed to him moving the kids into the garage apartment. She collected damaged goods. “Looks like everyone else is safe from the storm.” That should make her happy.

She rewarded him with a smile. Nodding, she kissed the top of the silky mop’s head. “My dad bragged he built those to withstand a tornado.”

The hail was larger now, dime-sized nuggets zinging off the tin roof like ricocheting bullets, putting his nerves on edge. He took a deep breath. He was in Clear Water, Texas. Far from war.

At least tornadoes were rare in the Hill Country. He took off his own hat and slapped it against his leg. Chips of ice clattered to the wood flooring. Calling the weather in Texas unpredictable was the definition of understatement.

It wouldn’t surprise him if he found a few bruises in the morning. He pushed his hair back. The little froufrou dog ran over to him and put a paw on his muddy boot. The clipped tail wagged so hard its whole body squirmed. “Bumper?”

Anjelica smiled at the wet rat. “I found her just the other day on Bumper Gate Road. I put an ad in the local paper, but no one’s come to claim her.”

Standing in front of him, she moved in for a hug before he realized what she had planned. “Thank you for saving my plant. I do think you’ll do a fine job as a father.”

His jaw clenched. He had never been a touchy hugging kind of guy, but he’d been hugged more times in the few months since he’d moved to Clearwater than he had his entire life. He remained still, not wanting to offend her by pulling away.

Kids liked hugs, too. He remembered wanting to be in his mother’s lap, but she had always been too tired or too busy. He managed to lift an arm and give her a pat on the shoulder, hopefully not too stiff. She shivered in his arms. They were both cold and wet. “You need to go inside and change.”

She backed up and grinned at him as if she’d made a new friend. “Thank you, Officer Kincaid. Um, now that you’re a father, you might think of a less dangerous job?”

He frowned. “I like my job.”

Another flash of lightning. He counted again, one Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi. A golf ball of solid ice landed at his feet. He narrowed his eyes and then looked at the path back to his apartment. The trip back to the garage wasn’t far, but with that last bolt of lightning, he doubted it was wise to run across the yard again. He looked at his watch. It had taken him a couple of hours to go to sleep, but he had been out for seven hours.

“Officer Kincaid—”

“Call me Garrett.”

“Oh!” She grabbed his arm. “Now is as good a time as any to show you the baby equipment.”

She leaned in closer, and the smell of vanilla and earth intrigued his nose. The lyrical sound of her voice tickled his ear. “Promise not to tell my parents I was outside in this weather. My mom would have a fit and Papa would tell me to move back home, again. They wouldn’t like that I’d go that far for a simple shrub.”

He had a feeling there was nothing simple about the shrub.

“Come on.” She turned and opened the screen door.

Garrett followed her and crossed over the well-trodden threshold. In his line of work, he’d been in about every kind of housing, but this was straight out of a children’s picture book. Alice’s rabbit hole had nothing on this girl.

It was everything his apartment wasn’t. The old farmhouse had a huge kitchen. A family of ten could easily sit at the table.

Even though the cabinets were painted white, splashes of color touched everything. More ceramic creatures hung from strings, while others lined the windows and cabinets.

“Sorry about the mess. I made a big batch of tortilla soup earlier tonight to share with my grandparents and a few other people in town. Then an idea struck, and I ended up in my ceramic studio before I cleaned. Have you eaten since lunch? Here, let me get you some.” Without waiting for his reply, she loaded a ceramic bowl with the aromatic soup. Fresh herbs and spices filled the kitchen. His stomach grumbled in anticipation.