GINA WILKINS - The Way To A Soldier's Heart

“I’ll enjoy the company.”

He claimed a two-seat table just being vacated, set down his coffee and doughnut and then returned for Charlotte. Elle passed her over. The child gripped a picture book in one hand, refusing to leave it behind. “Just bring her back when you’re ready for a break. She’s perfectly happy with her toys most of the time.”

Elle turned then to take an order from another customer. Hoisting his niece onto his hip, Shane carried her to his table and sat with her on his knee. Still clutching her book, she watched him with big blue eyes as he took a bite of his doughnut.

With a grin, he broke off a small piece and offered it to her. She accepted it with a sweet, “T’ank you, Shane,” then crammed it into her mouth, leaving a smear of chocolate on her soft cheek.

“Good?” he asked.

“Good,” she agreed with a fervent nod.

They shared the doughnut as they leafed slowly through Charlotte’s picture book. She pointed out the drawings on each page, naming every item with a familiarity that proved she knew this book very well. He watched her closely as she scanned the pages. Her eyes seemed to be tracking fine as far as he could tell, though granted he was no expert.

“Horsey,” Charlotte pronounced, poking a finger at the book.

“Yes. That’s a horse. A big brown horse,” he said, reading the caption.

He’d noticed Charlotte rarely used complete sentences, but he was confident it wouldn’t be long before she was chattering a mile a minute. Her dad had been quite the conversationalist, always the life of a party, rarely at a loss for amusing banter or a quick quip.

God, he missed his brother.

He swallowed painfully, then forced a smile when Charlotte pointed to a big-eyed cow and said, “Cow. Moo.”

“Yes, Charlotte, a cow says moo.”

She pointed again. “Big.”

“Pig,” he corrected her with a smile. “That’s a pig.”

“Big.”

“Pig. Puh-pig.”

“Puh-pig,” she repeated carefully. “Oink.”

He chuckled, then made piggy sounds that elicited giggles from her.

“Silly Shane,” she said with a shake of her head, making him laugh again.

Charlie would have adored this cute little girl. And Shane had no doubt the feeling would have been mutual. Everyone had loved Charlie.

Brittany had claimed to love Charlie, too—and Shane tended to believe her. Yet she’d given away his child without even offering to let Charlie’s close-knit family raise her, as she must have known they would have been happy to do. The sting of that rejection had hurt them all, especially after they’d gone to such great lengths to assure her of their willingness to help, to provide whatever she needed, to take her in as part of the family even after Charlie died.

Shane didn’t blame Brittany for giving up her parental rights; if anything, he admired her for making the best choice for the child’s welfare. He had no issues with adoption, considered it as valid a route to parenthood as biological pregnancy. But for Brittany to give her child to a stranger without even considering her family had been unjustified, in his opinion. Her choice, which he still didn’t entirely understand, had hurt them badly at a time when they were still grieving Charlie’s loss. It had been especially painful for Charlie’s father and grandmother, who’d have given anything for more time with his child.

“You two seem to be having fun,” Elle said from behind him.

Shane looked up in response to her voice. “We are. Charlotte’s been reading her book to me.”

“Puh-pig, Mommy.”

Elle reached down to smooth Charlotte’s tumbled curls. “Yes, sweetie. That’s a pig. What does a pig say?”

“Oink, oink.”

“Very good. Do you want your snack now? Gammy has bananas and yogurt for you in the kitchen.”

Shane checked his watch, surprised to see that it was almost two thirty. He glanced around the shop as Elle took Charlotte from him. Most of the pink shirts had disappeared while he’d been occupied with his niece. Only a few quiet customers were still settled in with their coffees and pastries.

He waited until Elle stepped back out of the kitchen with a tray of cookies for the display case before he moved to stand on the other side of the counter. He watched as she unloaded the tray into a waiting basket. “Those look good.”

“White chocolate and cranberry. Want to try one?”

“Sounds delicious, but since I just ate a chocolate doughnut, I should probably hold off on sweets until after I’ve had some real food.”

Elle slanted a smile up at him. “From the amount of chocolate on Charlotte’s face, I’m not sure you had much of that doughnut.”

“She might’ve had a bite or two,” he said, relieved that she didn’t seem perturbed. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, it’s fine. She had a good serving of vegetable soup for lunch and she’s having a healthy afternoon snack, so it’s okay if she had a little treat.” Elle closed the display case and straightened, setting the empty tray aside. “You’re very good with Charlotte. You really like kids, huh?”

It occurred to him that maybe she was a little wary of his interest in Charlotte. Understandable.

He drew a deep breath, thinking it was past time for him to level with her. “Elle, there’s something I should probably—”

He almost groaned when Janet burst through the kitchen door. This was the second time he’d been interrupted before he could come clean. “Elle, we need you back here now!”

Shane tensed, his flash of frustration dissolving into concern at Janet’s expression. Was something wrong with Charlotte?

The same question must have crossed Elle’s mind. She moved quickly toward her mother. “What’s wrong?”

Janet had spotted Shane. “You said you were a medic, didn’t you? You should come, too. We need you.”

Shane didn’t hesitate before rounding the end of the counter toward the kitchen, a vivid image of Charlotte’s sweetly trusting face in his mind.

* * *

HER HEART POUNDING in her throat, Elle surged into the kitchen with Shane close behind her. The urgency of her mother’s summons had scared her. Of course her first thought had been of Charlotte.

One quick visual sweep of the industrial kitchen let her know what had happened. Amber stood at the sink, a dishtowel wrapped around her right hand, blood soaking through the fabric. Staring at Amber with huge, worried eyes, Charlotte sat in a booster seat on a chair at the small table positioned at one end of the room, her snack forgotten in front of her. Her lower lip quivered.

While her mother moved to reassure Charlotte, Elle rushed to Amber’s side. “How bad is it?”

Looking pale but calm, Amber shook her head. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. I was prepping vegetables for tomorrow’s soups and I cut my hand. I just need to stick a bandage on it and cover that with a glove while I’m working in the kitchen.”

“I just knew something bad was going to happen today.”

Elle shot her fretting mother a look. “Don’t start, Mom. How deep is the cut, Amber?”

“I’m not sure. It’s probably fine.”

“Do you mind if I take a look?” Shane asked, stepping closer. “I’ve had some first-aid training.”

Elle figured that as an army medic in a war zone, Shane had more than “some” training, but it seemed characteristic of him to downplay his proficiency. She watched while he unwrapped the towel from Amber’s hand, and then she winced when she saw the gash he’d revealed. Blood still flowed freely from the wound in the heel of Amber’s right hand. With the mandolin slicer and raw vegetables still scattered on the counter, it didn’t take much imagination to mentally recreate the accident.