Robyn Carr - Paradise Valley

“It was a mistake,” she said. “That isn’t the way I get to know men.”

“I know that. It isn’t the way I get to know women either,” he said. “We deserve a second chance.”

She sighed. “Which is the point. Vanni sat me down last night. She gave me a stern talking-to. If we’re both going to be parents, we have to at least get along. I can’t treat you like the enemy—you’ve been nothing but nice to me. I guess I just don’t know how to go about that—the getting along part. The part where you get to be the father without anyone knowing you’re the father.”

“We should have just talked about it. Because I have some ideas about that.”

Her eyes shot open wide. “You do?”

“I do,” he said.

She leaned her chin on her hand. “I can’t wait to hear this.”

“First of all, we don’t have to explain anything to anyone, ever. There’s the starting point. We can be friendly now without any suspicion. We can see each other casually, become friends. Abby, you’re a beautiful, sexy, funny woman. You’re carrying twins and I’m a pediatrician. I love babies and beautiful women. The fact that you’re a single pregnant woman wouldn’t scare me off—why would it? For someone like me to be attracted to someone like you, even if we hadn’t had our history, isn’t so strange. People are likely to think it’s a Lifetime movie. Nothing but happy endings.”

“I don’t know about that,” she said.

“Well, I’m not embarrassed by what happened. If we wanted to, we could just say we met in Grants Pass while you were visiting your good friend, we got to know each other, we got along. We didn’t date long, but there was an attraction and…well…these things happen. The details aren’t important and none of anyone’s business but ours.”

“These things happen,” she repeated, shaking her head.

“It’s not mysterious. In fact, it’s not a crime. The few people who know aren’t going to tip off Kid Crawford, if that’s what has you panicked.”

“Few people?” she asked.

“It’s up to a few. There was Mel, Vanni and Dr. Stone. Now there’s Paul, and thanks to a little time we had at the bar together last night, Jack. Jack’s the only wild card, I think, and he won’t say anything because he doesn’t want to have to deal with Mel on that issue. Paul doesn’t want Vanni to kill him, so he’s airtight.”

“Shew,” she said.

“Thing is, it might get out eventually. It’s kind of funny in a way—”

“Funny?”

“Think about it—two strangers are sitting alone in a bar, feeling sorry for themselves, and not only do they get together and find a lot of comfort in each other, they start a family. And not just a baby, but twins. Then they end up in the same small town. No one would believe it. I know it wasn’t planned, but I’m not sorry about the outcome.”

She looked angry. At least indignant. “Well, I’m sorry!”

“No, you’re not. You hate the complications, but there are twins coming and I’m going to be around to help you with that. One’s a boy. I hope the other one’s a girl. These might be the only kids I get, and I hope I get one of each.” He grinned stupidly and knew it.

“You know, if you had all these legal and financial things hanging on you, you wouldn’t be so cavalier.”

“I think we should see a lawyer,” he said.

“I have a lawyer!”

“I’m not sure you have a good one. You got screwed.”

“Listen, Cameron, I can’t afford another lawyer. The last one almost wiped me out. I pulled all my retirement funds, cashed in my stock, which wasn’t much, sold my condo…”

“I’ll take care of it.”

She was struck dumb. “Why would you do that?”

“Because, Abby, it’s in my best interest to help you get this monkey off your back. If we have a clean slate, maybe we can work as a team.” He sat back. “That’s my hope.”

“I don’t want you to do that,” she said sternly. “I don’t want to owe you that much.”

He just shrugged. “You’re stuck with me either way. They’re mine as much as they’re yours.”

“What a godawful, stinking mess,” she said, pouting and lifting the cup to her lips.

Cameron was silent. Frowning. When she put the cup down, she looked at him and said, “What now?”

He shook his head and said, “You wouldn’t want to hear about some of the sad things I’ve seen in my practice. Abby, you’re worried about all the wrong things—about who’s going to pay for the lawyer, about being embarrassed that we didn’t have a long relationship before this happened. Give thanks. The babies are healthy and strong and, so far as we can tell, perfect.”

Her hand went to her tummy. “Are you the calm and reasonable one because you’re not the pregnant one?” she asked.

“No, sweetheart. Because I’m the desperate one. You’re holding the prize.”

By the time Jack got home at the end of a long day, the children were asleep and Mel was on the computer. He kissed her, then went to the kitchen and looked through the mail. He found a letter from Rick.

Since the boy was thirteen, Jack had looked out for him, tried to help him into manhood with strength and courage, with goodness. It was with a combination of pride and trepidation that he had sent him off to the Marine Corps at the age of eighteen. It was Rick’s decision, one hundred percent. Jack never fought him on it, though he had wanted to send Rick to college and had put aside money for that.

Now Rick was in Iraq where Jack had served two tours in his own Marine career. Rick sent a letter home to Jack sometimes as often as every two weeks, at least once a month, and he usually sent it to the bar so that everyone could hear the latest news. He also wrote to his grandmother, who was his only family, and his girl, Liz, who lived in Eureka.

But this letter hadn’t gone to the bar. Jack ripped it open at once.

Dear Jack,

God, I’m sorry to do this to you. I gotta get this out—and I don’t want my grandma or Liz upset. But you know about this stuff. You know how it is, and I have to lay it on someone who won’t freak out. You would’ve gotten some of this on the news, but you wouldn’t have known it had anything to do with me. We moved on Haditha Dam, doing house-to-house searches, trying to root out al Qaeda insurgents, and one of the squads right in front of us was obliterated by a bomb. A truck bomb. There was only one survivor in that squad, and they were a tight squad. Tighter than ours. One survivor, Jack. Holy Jesus, I think I’d rather be dead than watch eleven of my best friends blow up. I knew some of them. Sonny was waiting for a baby, Gravis was engaged, and Dom was this little Italian kid who was just scared shitless all the time. He wanted to go home so bad, he cried. Cried. But his whole squad was holding him up, taking care of him, trying to bolster him and prop him up all the time. They never cut anyone out of their fold—no matter what kind of problem they had. The guy that made it, the one guy, he has a girlfriend back home, and he’ll get back to her, but he’s going to be messed up. But he doesn’t even get to leave yet—they’re moving him to another squad. Holy God, I hope they move him out of the worst of this shit—it’s horrible.

They were right in front of us, Jack. Another two minutes, it would’ve been us. I can’t hardly sleep since that happened. A couple of my boys puked and one fainted, I think. He got back on his feet real fast and denied it, but I think he really passed out. There was so much screaming I couldn’t tell if it was me or the rest of them. It was all black and cloudy and then it was all blood. I wanted to die on the spot. I hit the ground because there was so much shooting I didn’t know for sure I wouldn’t take one from my own platoon.