An Unlikely Daddy (2 page)

“He should have been, Marisa.”

Anguish twisted her gut. The baby reacted, kicking hard. “Well, he wasn't.”

Ryker didn't answer, not that she could blame him. How did you respond to that? She had no answers for herself, so how could anyone else? She leaned back in the rocker, giving her lungs a little more room, feeling the baby's agitation like scalding criticism. She had to remain calm for her daughter.

Ryker remained silent, a sphinx full of secrets he was no more likely to share than Johnny had been. Why had he come? Because of Johnny? Probably. But to what purpose? What could he possibly do to make any of this better? “I don't see the point of you coming.”

“To help in whatever way I can. Just to talk if that's all you want from me. But I'm going to stay in town for a while, Marisa. I know my arrival is a shock, and I'm sorry. But I owe something to John.”

“John's past caring,” she said bitterly.

“Not for me he isn't. And if there's anything I can do for you, I'll do it, even if it's just knocking down the icicles out front.”

She looked at him again and couldn't mistake his determination. Wherever Johnny's loss had forced her, it was clearly pushing this man, too. So they had something in common. Little enough.

She closed her eyes again, rocking gently, feeling her baby settle down, the pokes lessening. Peace returning. A hard-won peace. Acceptance hadn't come easily, but it had come, although it hadn't eased her grief one bit yet.

If there was any blessing in all of this, it was that during her marriage she'd grown accustomed to Johnny's long absences. She didn't expect to see him around every corner, didn't expect to wake to find him beside her in bed, didn't keep listening for the sound of his voice. Not every waking moment prodded her with reminders of his absence.

But the grief, anger and sometimes even despair often rolled over her like a tsunami, irresistible and agonizing. For all the holes in the past, there was a bigger one in the present.

Let it go, just let it go.
The man nearby was grieving, too. Maybe together they could find some answers for each other. Not that life offered many answers. Things just seemed to happen.

She looked at Ryker again. He studied his hands, or maybe the floor. She couldn't tell which. “How long will you be in town?”

“I don't know. I
do
know that I'm not leaving immediately. And I have quite a bit of time.”

Meaning what, exactly? “So you were with Johnny in the Rangers, too?”

“We worked together on a number of missions.”

She accepted that, for now at least. “When he joined the State Department, I thought we'd be traveling a lot. I was looking forward to it. Only he got sent somewhere families can't go.”

“I know. There are a lot of those places, unfortunately.”

“So what do you do?”

His smile was almost crooked. “Security. Keeping the embassy or consulates safe, and most especially the people who work there.”

“Johnny was a translator.” But of course he knew that. Her husband had a gift for languages. He soaked them up the way the grass soaked up the rain. She'd never found out exactly how many of them he knew. But then she'd never asked him to count them for her. When they'd been together, other things had seemed so much more important, the sharing and caring and lovemaking. The occasional time with old friends, but mostly... She lifted her head. “Our marriage was like one long honeymoon. When he was home we might as well have been on our own planet.”

Ryker's face shadowed. “That's wonderful.”

“I thought so. We never had enough time to take one another for granted.” Why was she telling him this? Was she reminding herself? Was it important somehow? “But one thing I took for granted was that we'd have a future. No matter where he went, I always believed he'd come home. I was a fool.”

“You were an optimist,” he corrected firmly. “How else could you do it?”

Good question, she supposed. No answer, but still a good question.

He spoke again. “Some of us do things with our lives that are very unfair to the people we love.”

“Are you married?”

He shook his head. “I envied John. He was happy with you, he trusted that you were strong enough to handle all this. I could never trust that much.”

“Maybe you were kinder.” She hated herself for saying it, but there it was. Johnny had trusted her to be able to handle
this
?

“No, I wasn't kinder,” he said. “More selfish. Love 'em and leave 'em, that was me. My romantic past is strewn with ugliness. John at least made a commitment, tried to build something good. I not only envied him, I admired him for it.” Then he offered her something approximating a smile. “But then I never met a woman like you.”

“Meaning?”

“One who could put up with this. They always wanted me to change. You didn't try to change John. Pretty special.”

“Trying to change someone is pointless.” Of this she was certain. “We are who we are, and if you can't love someone just the way they are, then you don't love them.”

“There's a lot of wisdom in that.”

“Just truth.” She sighed. Facing up to reality again. Always painful these days. “So you weren't with John when this happened?”

“I was in another country. A little far away to be of any use.”

“Johnny could take care of himself,” she said. “I guess that's what's bugging me as much as anything. He could take care of himself. This shouldn't have happened.”

Ryker stirred. “No, it shouldn't have. But a lot of things shouldn't happen. I live in a world where things that shouldn't happen often do. I'm just sorry you got dragged into it. I'm sorry John didn't make it. I'm sorry as hell I got him the job. And I wish it had been my funeral, not his.”

She couldn't doubt him, but this wasn't right. She felt a stirring of self-disgust. All her dumping had done was make this man feel worse about something that had been out of his control. What kind of shrew was she becoming?

“Don't say that, Ryker. Please. I'm not attacking you.”

“Why not? I deserve it. I saw my good friend talking about changing careers, and I found him a job. It's my fault you're grieving, and I know it. I should have just told him to come home to you and become a shopkeeper or something.”

That had the oddest effect on her. It booted her right out of her misery to a place where she could actually see some humor. The shift was instantaneous and shocking. She actually laughed. It sounded rusty, but it was real. “Tell me,” she said, “do you really think Johnny would have done that? Do you think he'd have taken that job you got him if it wasn't what he really wanted to do? Come on, Ryker. Let's be honest here. Johnny was Johnny, and he'd have made a lousy shopkeeper.”

Astonishingly, he smiled. It was a beautiful expression, erasing all the hardness from his face, nearly lighting up the room. Her heart quickened, but she barely noticed. “You're right,” he said.

“Of course I'm right. He was an adventurer at heart. I knew it. I walked into it with my eyes open. That's not making this hurt any less, but there was no way I was going to keep him stapled to my side for fifty years. If not this, then something else.”

He sat up, half nodding, half shaking his head. “Probably,” he agreed, then made an effort to change the subject. “Are you still teaching?”

“I'm on sabbatical until next fall.” She paused, then decided her reasoning needn't be kept private. “It felt like too much to deal with—the baby, Johnny's death. I couldn't have focused on teaching. So I decided to focus on getting through this year, having the baby and taking some time to be a mother. Fall will be soon enough.”

Soon enough to try to resume a full life. Right now she wanted no part of it. Her life was all in a shambles, and she felt like she had to glue some of the pieces back together before she'd be any use to anyone. She tried to think of it as convalescence. Maybe it was sheer cowardice. An unwillingness to face more of the world than she had to, to deal with constant reminders that life went on. To deal with students who were young enough to be cheerfully falling in love or agonizing over not being asked for a date. For young people, even minor things were magnified. For her, she didn't need a magnifying glass. She doubted she'd have patience for all that. She even doubted whether she'd be focused enough to be a good teacher.

Life had become an unending blur of pain punctuated by moments when she felt the joy of the coming child. A stark contrast that left her feeling continually off balance.

Ryker drew her attention back to him by rising. “I didn't mean to intrude for so long. I just wanted you to know that I'm here. If it's okay, I'll stop by again in the morning.”

She didn't move. “Where are you staying?”

“At the motel.”

She sighed. “Lovely place.”

“I've stayed in worse.” He moved toward the door. “Don't see me out. And like I said, I'll stop by in the morning. I don't know about you, but I need some rest. Still adjusting to a major clock change. Jet lag.”

She looked up at him. “Where did you fly in from?”

A half smile. “Quite a few time zones to the east. Even more if you count to the west.”

A pang struck her. “Johnny used to say something like that. Really helpful.”

“I told you...”

She waved a hand. “I get it. Operational security.”

He paused and offered his hand. Reluctantly she took it, feeling warm, work-hardened skin. So familiar, but from a stranger. “Ryker...”

“We can talk more tomorrow.” He gave her hand a squeeze, then let himself out.

When Marisa heard the front door close, she felt at once a sense of relief and one of disappointment. There was more she wanted to ask. A lot more.

Well, he said he'd come back. Then she sat rocking and thinking about Ryker Tremaine. She didn't quite trust him, even if he had been Johnny's friend. How could she? He wouldn't give her any more answers than her husband had.

Men who lived in the shadows, both of them. After all these years she was just beginning to understand how much.

Finally she rose, rubbing her back a bit, and went to lock the front door, something she didn't usually do.

But the simple fact was, a stranger had come to her door, claiming to know Johnny. Maybe he did, but that alone didn't make him trustworthy.

In all, the situation felt wrong. After all these months? Out of the blue without warning? Not even a condolence card? While she wasn't yet prepared to reject the possibility that he was the “Artie” Johnny had sometimes mentioned, even that alone wasn't enough to create trust.

He was a stranger. And while she might not care all that much about her own life, she
did
care about her baby.

When at last she went to bed, she rested on her side, feeling her daughter's gentle stirrings, and staring into the darkness. She thought of Johnny, which was slowly growing easier, she thought about the child who would soon join her in this world and she thought about Ryker Tremaine.

Her sense of him was that he was a lot like Johnny in some ways. But different, too. Maybe even harder.

Or maybe this visit had been as difficult for him as it had been for her. She couldn't imagine why he was planning to stay, was troubled by the fact that he wouldn't say for how long, and realized that another box of secrets had just walked into her life.

Like she needed more of that. At last sleep freed her, giving her gentle dreams for a change, offering escape from a world that had too many hard edges.

Morning would come. Somehow, to her everlasting sorrow, it always did.

Chapter Two

R
ising before the sun
. The phrase had amused Marisa since childhood, especially since she was climbing out of bed at the same time as usual. The sun's winter-delayed arrival always made her feel cozy somehow, and this morning was no different. By the time she finished showering and dressing in one of Johnny's old flannel shirts and maternity jeans, faint gray light began to appear around the edges of the curtains.

In the kitchen she made her allotted few cups of coffee and decided to eat cinnamon oatmeal for breakfast. With a glass of milk, she swallowed her prenatal vitamin while she stirred the oatmeal.

She had just poured the oatmeal from the pan into the bowl when she heard a knock at her side door. Looking over, she saw Julie standing there and waving. Immediately she went to let her in.

“Gawd, it's cold out there this morning,” Julie said, pulling back her hood and shaking out her long auburn hair. Green eyes danced. “Be glad you don't have to be anywhere. After that thaw last week, it feels like an insult. Oatmeal, huh?”

“Want me to make you some?”

“Sweetie, I already gorged on Danish and coffee. Unlike you, I don't have to worry about healthy eating.”

Marisa laughed lightly. “Not yet, anyway.”

“I know, I know, it'll catch up with me. All our sins do. So, dish.”

“Dish?”

Julie pulled out a chair without unzipping her jacket and sat, arching a brow at her. “Did you really think a mysterious man could show up on your doorstep last evening and that your neighbor Fiona would miss it? Or that she wouldn't call me and probably half the rest of the town? Sit, eat.”

Marisa brought the bowl of oatmeal and a milky mug of coffee to the table. Julie eyed the coffee. “Still on restriction?”

Marisa shook her head. “Not now. The doc says I can have more, it's not risky. But now...I don't want any more.”

“Hah. They retrain us. Anyway, the guy last night.”

“Fiona. Does she report on every breath I take?”

“You know her better than that. But last night was something new. Everyone needs something new to talk about. So, who was he?” Julie waited eagerly.

“He says he worked with Johnny for years.”

Julie's smile faded. “What's wrong, Marisa? Did he scare you?”

“I don't know what to make of him, that's all. He said a few things, so yes he knew Johnny but...it seems kind of late to be making a social call. He certainly doesn't know me. And he's talking about Johnny wanting him to check on me.”

“Well, that sounds like Johnny.”

Marisa's head popped up, a spoonful of oatmeal in her hand. “What do you mean by that?”

Julie bit her lip, finally shrugged and said, “Johnny asked me to keep an eye on you if... Well, you get it.”

“He did?” Anger billowed in Marisa. “He asked you that, and you never told me?”

Julie put up a hand. “He asked me not to. Don't bite my head off. But, frankly, I could see his point.”

Marisa put down her spoon and gripped the edge of the table. “See what point?”

“The point that he was going away for months at a time to do a dangerous job, and sometimes his feet touched ground long enough to worry about
you
. He didn't want to share that with you because you might worry about him more. It was always understood, wasn't it, that Johnny would come home?”

The oatmeal was beginning to congeal. Marisa pushed it to the side, her appetite utterly gone. More secrets, now one that had been shared with her best friend. What else hadn't Johnny told her? She guessed at some of it, but now she wondered. “What else?”

“That was it,” Julie answered quietly. “You know Johnny. He made light of it when he asked me, but I could tell he was serious. I'd have looked after you, anyway. You're my best friend.”

Numbness was slowly replacing anger. Julie popped up. “Let me make you some fresh oatmeal.”

“I don't want it anymore. Maybe I'll make some later.”

Julie paused beside her, squeezing her shoulder. “I didn't mean to upset you. I honestly didn't think that telling you that would.”

“No?” Craning her neck, Marisa looked up at her. “How many other things didn't he tell me?”

“God,” Julie breathed. Slowly she returned to her chair. “Don't take it like that. We all know he couldn't talk about his work. It wasn't like he was running around confiding in everyone except you. That was it, Marisa, I swear. Given that he had a dangerous job, why should it surprise anyone that he asked a handful of close people to help you out if something went wrong? Seems more thoughtful than secretive to me.”

Maybe Julie was right. Gripping her mug in both hands, Marisa tried to swallow the coffee before it cooled down too much and warmed her not at all. But this on the heels of last night...she felt alarm flags popping up inside her. Had she ever known her husband at all?

“Damn it,” Julie muttered. “The last thing on earth I wanted to do was make you feel bad. I just came over to hear about Mr. Mysterious, and look what I've done.”

Marisa didn't answer immediately. Julie had been her friend since kindergarten, and she had to believe her. So Johnny had been worried. Well, he'd kind of explained the possibility when they were dating. He'd been in the Rangers, after all. Going into combat and who knew what else. She certainly didn't. How would anything have changed if he'd told her he'd asked friends to check on her if something happened? Not at all. She would still have moved forward with the certainty that he would always return, because any other possibility was unthinkable. Johnny had seemed to believe that himself. Maybe she was more troubled by the realization that he'd been acutely aware that he might not come back. If so, he hadn't shared that with her. Another in his long line of omissions, most of which hadn't bothered her. So why was this getting to her?

“So,” Julie said eventually, “I've got only a few minutes before I have to get to work. I want to hear about this friend of Johnny's.”

Marisa struggled back to the present moment. “Not much to say. He's in town for a few days. He wanted to see how I was doing mainly because Johnny asked him to at one time or another.”

“But it took him six months to get here?”

Marisa nodded. “Same kind of job as Johnny's. Anyway, I gather from what he said that he heard I was pregnant and that galvanized him to get here. He said something about how Johnny had mentioned that I was safe here, among friends. So maybe it didn't seem all that critical.”

“Or,” Julie said fairly, “he simply couldn't get away.”

“Maybe.”

“So...” Julie grinned. “Is he gorgeous?”

“Julie!” Marisa's shock caused her to gasp. “Are you kidding?”

“No, perfectly serious. Johnny wouldn't want you to bury yourself, and a calendar is a poor way to measure grief. I always thought that old thing about wearing widows weeds for a year was a bit over the top. I mean, you grieve however long you grieve. There's not some magic date when it stops. As for everything else—” she pushed back from the table and stood “—you're still here, hon. You should snap at anything good that happens by, or the next fifty years are going to be awful. At least enjoy having a new face around for a few days. I'm off!”

Anything good that happens by? Really? Emotionally she still felt like a train wreck most of the time. Snap at life? The only snapping she'd like to do was angry.

Then her baby stirred again, reminding her she did indeed have to carry on. She scraped the oatmeal into the trash and made herself a fresh bowl to eat with her second cup of coffee.

Slowly, as the warm oatmeal and coffee hit her system, calm began to settle over her. When she was done eating, she sat for a while with her eyes closed, her hands on her belly, and concentrated on the new life growing inside her.

She already loved her child. It hadn't taken long for that to happen. At first, during the darkest days, she'd hated her pregnancy almost as if it were a promise that would never be fulfilled. She'd gone through the motions of taking care of herself only because she had to. But then had come the day when she had felt the first movement. Even in the midnight of her soul, she'd felt an incredible burst of joy, a connection she had never imagined possible before she even saw the child. Her baby was growing inside her, and it was indeed a promise. Her child, her love. An unbreakable link was forged with those first tiny, almost bubble-like movements.

The future
did
hold something good, she reminded herself. It held this baby, Johnny's final gift, a new life she needed to live for and work for. A purpose, a joy, a journey. Her imaginings might have turned to dust with Johnny, but now there were new imaginings. Maybe it was time to quit fighting with herself and just get on with setting up the nursery, making sure she had everything a baby would need. Maybe it was time to accept Julie's repeated offer of a baby shower. Time to stiffen her spine and start taking steps of her own choice into all the tomorrows to come.

Because if she was sure of anything, it was that she couldn't remain like this, paralyzed and hunkered down. If she didn't change it now, she'd be changing it in a few months because life would force it on her.

Maybe it was time to stop being a victim.

* * *

The doorbell rang shortly after she finished washing her breakfast dishes and absently wiping the counters clean. Ryker, she thought. No one else she knew in Conard City would come by at this time of day. She'd half expected never to see him again. She hadn't been exactly welcoming last night, and he could have called his duty to Johnny done. He'd checked on her. What more could Johnny have expected of him, of a man who was a stranger to her?

She dried her hands on a towel, smoothed her still-damp hair back quickly, then went to answer the door. She half hoped it was Fiona, who lived next door, coming to try to pry some more gossip out of her. Fiona, she often thought, needed to get a job now that her two children spent all day in school. She clearly didn't have enough to do with her time. Of course, who was Marisa to criticize anyone else for that?

But as she had half feared, she opened the door to see Ryker. He looked more rested, his face less like granite this morning. Sunlight reflected almost blindingly off the snow.

“Good morning,” he said pleasantly. He offered a small white bag. “Bagels from your local bakery. I figured they couldn't be too bad for you. Want me to knock down those icicles?”

She felt as if a whirlwind had just blown into her quiet life. “The icicles are really bothering you,” she remarked, suddenly remembering that he'd mentioned them last night.

He glanced over his shoulder. “Most of them aren't too dangerous, but why let them grow? Got a broomstick?”

Arguing seemed utterly pointless. She gave him her broom, then listened to the dull thuds from the porch as he took down the icicles. In the kitchen, she opened the bag he'd brought, and her nose immediately filled with the amazing smell of oven-fresh bagels. For the first time that morning, she became genuinely hungry. Melinda, the bakery owner, had also tossed in a few small containers of cream cheese. At that point it seemed churlish not to set out a couple of plates and make some fresh coffee.

Ryker came in, bringing the cold and the broom with him. “All done. Where should I put this?”

She pointed to the pantry door at the back of the kitchen. “Just inside there. Thank you.”

“Safety, that's my thing,” he said as he put the broom away and shucked his jacket, revealing a gray flannel shirt that made his eyes and hair look even darker. “How are you this morning?”

“I'm okay.” It was the best she could say. “I made coffee to go with the bagels. Do you drink it?”

“By the gallon. But you don't have to feed me just because—”

She interrupted him, feeling a sense of desperation. “Let's get past this, okay? Maybe you showed up out of nowhere without any warning. Maybe I don't know you from Adam, but you're here because of Johnny. One way or another we should both respect his wishes. He wanted you to check on me. I'm not going to tell you to get lost, at least not right away. You brought breakfast, which was nice, and I do have enough manners left to invite you to enjoy it with me. Okay?”

For a couple of seconds he didn't move, then a smile spread slowly. “Cutting to the chase, huh?”

“As much as I can. We can spend the next few hours fencing around, but honestly, I hate wasting time like that. Especially now. Sit down. Eat. I'll join you. Thank you for the bagels.”

With a snort like a laugh, he took the chair she indicated at the kitchen table. The bagels were already sliced, so all they had to do was spread the cream cheese. Melinda, the bakery owner, had remembered that Marisa liked hers with chives. She hadn't had room to feel much outside her own pained universe for the past few months, but she was touched now by Melinda's thoughtfulness. So many good people around here, and she'd been avoiding most of them.

Maybe Ryker's arrival had jarred her out of her self-preoccupation. Was grief selfish? She supposed it was.

At least he didn't tell her to sit while he got the coffee, or otherwise imply that she wasn't perfectly healthy. Lately, on the rare occasions she visited with her friends, they wanted her to let them take care of everything, as if she were an invalid. She understood they felt helpless to do much about anything else, but really, she was in good health and capable of getting a cup of coffee for someone.

But then the awkwardness returned. Ryker decided to pierce it. “I probably know more about you than you do about me,” he remarked. “Johnny talked about you from time to time, but I gather he said little about me.”

“He mentioned R.T. a couple of times, but, no, he didn't say much. But then he didn't talk much about his friends in the Rangers or later. It was like when he came home, he turned all that off.”