Laura Altom - The SEAL's Stolen Child

“Assuming we find him…” Garrett crossed the lawn. “You need to follow your own advice, Mom, and take this one step at a time.”

Eve asked, “When do we stop talking about finding him and actually start our search?”

* * *

“SURE YOU’RE UP FOR THIS?” Garrett asked the next morning in Eve’s entry hall as she gathered her purse and a light jacket. As usual, she looked dressed for a corporate board meeting in a cream-colored suit with her hair once again up. He was glad. It made her less approachable and therefore less appealing—at least that was the line he fed himself. She was still a beauty.

“I’m excited.” She managed a forced smile. “But truthfully, also a little scared. I haven’t been to that place since we lost our son.”

“You’ll be okay.” Had they still been a couple, he’d have pulled her into a hug, or maybe just held her hand. Some small sign to show her he cared. The thing was, they weren’t in any way connected other than by their shared past, which left him in an awkward spot.

“Here you yummy snacks.” Juanita handed him a bulging paper bag. “Sandwich and cookies.”

“Thanks.” He accepted her gift and had no problem giving her an impromptu hug. Today’s wig was straight, long and blond. Drawing back he winked. “You’re looking good. It’s a long drive to Savannah, and this will come in handy. Ready?” he asked Eve.

An hour later, silence had moved past awkward to just plain annoying.

On a bare stretch of interstate, he angled to face her. “Look, it’s been a while since we’ve really talked. How about filling me in on what you’ve done for nearly the past decade.”

She’d been staring out his Mustang’s window, but now glanced his way. “College at Brown.”

“Nice.” He passed a slow pickup.

“Daddy—Dad—went there.”

“Sorry about that dig. I get calling Hal Daddy is a Southern thing.”

She’d retreated to focusing on the passing scenery. “I joined a sorority, but looking back on it, I’d have been better off on my own. I spent too much time wondering if all those girls somehow knew my dirty secret. Which in retrospect, I can thank my father for. Had he let me have our baby at home, sure, gossipy tongues would’ve wagged, but once the shock wore off, everyone would’ve accepted our child. It incenses me how many years I lost due to feeling like a second-class citizen. Like just because I’d gotten knocked-up in high school, I wasn’t good enough to keep company with so-called ‘nice girls.’”

“Don’t hold back,” Garrett teased.

“Sorry,” she said with a shy smile, “but it actually felt good getting that out.”

“Don’t apologize to me. You’re preaching to the choir on believing you should never have left Coral Ridge, and there sure as hell isn’t a statute of limitations on hurt feelings or anger.”

“True…” When she met his gaze, his stomach acted funny. Lord, but she was a fine-looking woman. Somehow she managed to pull off regal, cute and smoking hot all at the same time.

Attempting to get his mind off how awesome he used to feel kissing her, he said, “I remember Mom telling me you’d been married. Guess it was quite the social event in Coral Ridge.”

Eve groaned. “Another mistake. Met Matthew my junior year. We shared some fun times. He was president of Dad’s old fraternity and during a parent weekend, Matt earned Hal’s seal of approval and that was that. We married right after graduation—of course Dad had the whole thing planned. Aside from picking my dress, pretty much everything else was set.” Eve paused, looking slightly ashamed. “Is there anything in my life I haven’t let my father do?”

Garrett fought the urge to clasp her hand. “I’m assuming your divorce was at least your idea?”

She laughed. “Daddy still has Matt on his Christmas-card list.”

Dodging a fast-food bag that’d blown into his lane, Garrett mused, “At least you won’t have to worry about that anymore.”

“You’re so not funny. Anyway, my degree is in marketing, so I’m part of that division in all Daddy’s companies. I’ve already taken off a week. Makes me dizzy thinking how much there is to catch up on.”

“With your dad out of the picture, are you now in charge?”

Her eyes teared. “I take it sensitivity training isn’t a highlight of SEAL business?”

“What? I asked a valid question. Last thing I meant was to hurt you.”

Reclining her seat, she curled onto her side, effectively hiding her face.

“I’m no expert, but isn’t it customary for you to now ask about me?”

Using her jacket as a blanket, she did have one question. “Got anything I might use for a pillow?”

* * *

BEFORE GARRETT PICKED her up that morning, Eve had done an internet search for a church she remembered being near the home for unwed mothers she’d stayed at. Now that Garrett had found it, the task fell on her to find the three-story historic residence.

“I remember it being redbrick.” She’d rolled down the tinted window for a better look. “It sat on two lots and there was a vegetable garden we all took turns tending. And a giant live oak. Unless the tree was harmed in a storm, it has to still be there.”

He slowed for a stop sign. “Nothing on this street fits that description. Mark it off on your map and we’ll go block by block till you see a place that looks familiar.”

Six blocks later, they’d found what they were looking for—only the garden had been replaced by a parking lot and an ornate sign hung from a wrought-iron gate, announcing that the place was a B and B called The Live Oak Inn.

“Now what?” she asked Garrett. “What are we supposed to do when our first—and only—lead doesn’t pan out?”

He pulled into the federal-style home’s lot and parked. “We’re not giving up that easy. Come on.”

Ten minutes later, they shared a wicker table and iced teas with the home’s owner on the back porch. The day was fine. Balmy with a playful breeze swaying ferns hanging from thin chains. A sweet, white flower Eve didn’t recognize perfumed the air. Had it not been for the jet flying low en route to the airport, they might’ve been in an earlier century.

“When we bought the place five years ago,” said Clara Duncan, middle-aged and sporting a Civil War–era costume complete with prim hair bun, “the house was in foreclosure. Because of that, our dealings were strictly with the bank. Miss Ginnie, our neighbor to the west, mentioned in passing this used to be a home for unwed mothers, but I’m sorry I don’t know much more than that.”

“It’s okay.” Eve traced the condensation on her slender glass. “We knew this was a long shot.”

Garrett asked, “Is Miss Ginnie still around?”

“Of course. Would you like me to call her over?”

“That’d be great.” Fresh hope raced Eve’s pulse.

It didn’t take long for Miss Ginnie to arrive, using a four-pronged cane to help navigate the porch stairs. “As I live and breathe.” Through blue eyes not dulled by age, the older woman surveyed Eve who’d stood to introduce herself and shake the woman’s hand. “You are about the right age to be one of Rose’s girls.”

Garrett had pulled out a chair for the elderly woman and, after more introductions, helped her sit down. Clara bustled off to get more tea and cookies.

Eve’s mouth was so dry she doubted herself capable of swallowing a crumb.

“Thank you for coming,” Garrett said, sharing the high points of their story. “Since Eve’s father left no information regarding our son’s current whereabouts—or even names of his adoptive parents—we’re having to start with the basics in our search.”

“I understand.” When Clara returned with refreshments, Miss Ginnie helped herself to three sugar cookies. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the reason this house was even sold is because Rose ran out of money. I would assume she kept records, but she had no family that I know of.”