The Soldier's Surprise Family (14 page)

He grinned and nodded. The look made her want to cry. Why couldn't love be easy like it was in high school? “Your daughter is waiting for you, and I'm going back to my house. Good night, Garrett. I'll see you at seven.”

One step at a time, she made it back to her room. The mountains of pillows and handmade quilts offered no comfort. She had lost her heart, and she doubted it would return unbroken.

Even if she gave in and accepted a lawman as her future, she didn't think his heart would be available.

* * *

As he filled the cup, he held it steady. That was an improvement.
Okay, God, You got me this far. What do I do now to keep them safe?

Was he the best place for them? Shoulder leaning against the door, he paused. Rio's voice was low but clear. He was talking to his sister.

“I think it's going to be okay, Pilar. Our new daddy is nice and he doesn't yell or hit us, even when you cry a lot or when we mess up.”

Every muscle tightened as he held himself still. The need to hit the man who caused all that pain was a waste of energy, but it still burned deep in his gut. Garrett heard a noise he couldn't identify.

“You like your room?” From the sound of his voice, Rio had moved.

Pilar answered with gurgling and the sweetest laughter that twisted his heart. How many of these late-night talks had happened when he thought they were sound asleep?

“Yeah, but it's for girls,” Rio replied as if she had spoken in a clear language. “Maybe at your next birthday, if everything is still good, I'll stay in my bed. It's a race car, for a boy. Don't worry—I'll stay here as long as you need me. I promise not to leave you.”

Garrett leaned the back of his head against the wall. Now he wanted to hug them close and cry over all the things he couldn't fix or wipe clean. Rio sounded like an old man, not a five-year-old. These were his children. His family. His responsibility to protect. His throat tightened. He could barely breathe.

Anjelica was right. He would never willingly turn either of these kids over to someone else. They were his. He was their father, and it was going to stay that way no matter what he had to do to make it happen.

He started forming a plan that would keep them all together. A plan to keep the kids safe. He hated that they might need to be protected from him. But they needed someone who could love them without hang-ups. Someone who would be steady when he fell apart. He imagined it would look better at court if he was married.

He softly knocked before going all the way in the room. He didn't want to scare Rio. “How's our princess doing?”

His son had gone mute again. Well, he'd talk to him when he was ready.

Now that he had the beginnings of a plan, the ache in his belly eased. He would trust that God had brought the kids to him for a reason. And as soon as he got Anjelica alone, he'd talk to her about the plan. This could work.

Chapter Twelve

L
eaving the doctor's office, Garrett knew more about nebulizers than he did his own truck engine. Pilar breathed with ease now, and that was all that mattered. An antibiotic for the ear infection and a sucker for her brave brother made everyone better.

In Anjelica's house, they settled the kids in the playroom for their naps so he could head into work. This was the perfect time to talk to her about his plan. So why was he nervous? It was simple, and he couldn't imagine her not going along.

Then again, he didn't have a great track record in understanding women. Jake would be a good one to talk to first. See what he thought. He took another drink of coffee as Anjelica walked into the room. He needed to talk to her and stop putting it off.

“They're doing great. Fell asleep right away.” For the trip to Kerrville today, she wore her hair in a ponytail.

“Before I head to work, there's something I want to talk to you about.” He rubbed his jaw. “Want to sit in the living room?”

Her eyebrows wrinkled. “Sure. Is something wrong?”

He waited for her to sit on the chair with the chicken pillow. Chickens—he never understood that. Glancing up, he realized she was staring at him, waiting.

“I'm worried I can't be here for the kids the way they need me.” He paused, not sure what words to use to make her understand how important this was to him and the future of his family.

She tilted her head as if not understanding his words. “You've done a great job helping the kids feel safe.” Standing, she left the chicken chair and sat next to him. “You were in a war zone—the things that happened, I can't even imagine. I've done some research and I think you need to find another vet, one you can talk to.”

Keeping his face relaxed, he tried to hide the frustration at her suggestion. “Torres already suggested Reeves. I don't really see how that'll help.” He stood and paced a few times before stopping at the window. “You've seen two episodes I've had where I lost track of reality. I can control it. I have for the last five years.”

He moved to the bookshelf full of photos of her life. He wanted those kinds of roots for his little family. How much to tell her? Knots tightened in his gut when he even thought of what happened all those years ago. At times it seemed like yesterday. “I have a very important question to ask you. There's... I need you to know what happened so there aren't any misunderstandings.”

She joined him, but when she reached out to touch his arm, he stepped away.

He never talked about what happened. There was no point. Not even to the required therapist. He told them just enough so they thought he felt a normal amount of guilt in order to get a clean bill of health.

“In Afghanistan one of our jobs was basically public relations. Establishing trust with people in the area. One of the things we started doing was playing soccer with the local kids.”

He paced behind the sofa, watching his boots cover the area rug as he went back and forth. A cold sweat coated his tight skin. She didn't need to know everything. Just enough so she would understand why the kids couldn't count on him 100 percent of the time.

“I actually enjoyed that part. It was like a little piece of home. Kicking the ball around with the kids. One boy I got closer to. He was about ten. I shared the candy my sister would send me. Somewhere along the way, he became mine. We both had a single mom and a sister to protect, being the only male in our families.”

Interlocking his fingers behind his head, he sat down again and arched his back until he saw the ceiling. “Early one morning, I was running late to the field. A couple of the other guys were already there. The wind was sweeping sand across the flat landscape. I saw...”

He hadn't spoken the boy's name since giving the initial reports. Everything inside twisted at the memory of the tracks of his tears on dust-covered cheeks.

“As soon as I saw him, I knew something was wrong.”

He licked his lips. He had worked so hard to shut down these images, locking them in a box and burying the incident so deep it wouldn't impede his life in Texas.

“Garrett?” So soft, her voice lashed at the fog that started to creep through his brain, the fingers of hopelessness reaching to control him. She moved to sit next to him, her hands clasped in her lap. “It's all right.”

“No, it's not. They had gotten to him. Probably threatened his family.” He should have known. Should have warned the kid. Done something to protect him.

He clenched his fists. The tension caused his arms to shake. “I knew. In my gut I knew what was about to happen, and I just stood there.”

Warm skin intertwined with his. He took a deep breath and focused on her touch. She anchored him back down into the living room in Clear Water, Texas.

“He stood on the far side of the field. Kids ran around him, laughing as their loose shirts flapped in the wind. A few of the other guys that played with the kids were there.”

He tried to swallow, but his throat tightened. Dry, no moisture. The kid needed him, and he had just stood there. Frozen.

Her hand squeezed his wrist. He took a chance to look at her. He found her gaze searching his face. “It wasn't your fault.”

“I just stood there and did nothing when the device went off.”

“For how long?”

“What?”

“From the time you got there to the time it... How long were you there? What could you have done?” Tears hovered on her bottom lashes. Her lips drew taut. “It's unimaginable. But how could you have changed what happened? How does it make you less of a father? That's what this is about, right? You explaining why you can't be the perfect father.”

There was no way she would ever understand, and that was okay. She was protected from that kind of evil. “I should've known he'd be marked by the men hiding behind legitimate business. He was mine and they used him.”

“I still don't understand how you could have changed that day.”

“When the... I should have—” he pushed the hair back from his forehead and closed his eyes “—protected him. He was mine. Killed on my watch. Along with two other kids and a marine. A buddy of mine lost his arm. I didn't even have a scratch. I just stood there on the other side of the field.”

“So what could you have done? Run across the field and disabled the bomb?”

He sighed and stood. He needed space. This was why he never bothered to talk about it. “You don't get it. I failed to protect them. I could've at least run to him and wrapped him up against me. Used my body to absorb the explosion. The other marine would've made it home. Boys would've seen their next birthdays. He wouldn't have died standing alone and scared.”

“And you would have died. It's tragic what happened, and horrible. But if you weren't here, what would have happened to Rio and Pilar? They are safe and together because you are here, protecting them.”

“That's not the point.” He heard her move. She followed him to the window.

“You're right—it's not fair. The things that happen, why they happen, don't make sense. You can't focus on one part without looking at the big picture.”

His jaw started to hurt.

“What you saw was horrific. Your strength amazes me.”

Her hand rested on his shoulder blade. He stiffened, fighting the urge to turn and wrap himself in her warmth. He had been so cold for so long.

“I'm not strong.” He stepped away from her and leaned against the frame of the window seat, trying to look casual. “You're the hero. The one with the real strength. You've kept your faith and your smile through the loss of your husband and baby.”

Not able to resist any longer, he reached out and touched her wet cheek with the back of his knuckles. “You, Anjelica Ortega-Garza, are the hero. That's why...”

Long, restless steps took him away from her and back to the sofa. Once again sitting, he gestured for her to join him on the couch. She moved to the red chicken chair instead.

“Okay. There's a reason I wanted to tell you this. It wasn't about getting your sympathy, but for you to understand my limits and why the proposal I'm about to give you is so important to Rio and Pilar. I need you to know why I can't do this alone.”

She sat forward, her elbows resting on her knees. “You're not alone.”

“But I need a permanent safeguard for the kids.” He feared she didn't understand what he was trying to tell her. “Sometimes I see Rio and all I see is...the boy I lost. I want to set up a safety net.”

“You have me and all the Ortegas.”

“Right, but you're just the nanny, the hired help. I know you're more than that, but in a court of law, that's all they'll see. A single bachelor. If... When I get custody, you'll have no legal rights.” He rubbed his palms against his eye sockets.
Just say it. It's a good plan.

Leaning forward, he looked her straight in the eyes. “I want us to get married. It will give us an edge over a single grandmother Then you can adopt them and they'll have you as their legal parent. You'll be their mother.”

Her mouth open and her eyes wide, she recoiled as if a scorpion had fallen from the ceiling.

Give her time to process.
He licked his lips again.

Like a spring, she popped up. She moved around and put the chair between them, looking at him as if...as if he had gone crazy.

“Did you just ask me to marry you so I can be the mother of your children?”

He wasn't feeling good about the tone of her voice. “Yes, it's the surest way I can think of to provide them with everything they need. Unconditional love and security. We'd all live here in this house. Children need those things, especially Rio and Pilar. They need you.”

“You want us to get married so that I can be a legal guardian of your children and provide the love that you can't give them? Because you want them to live in my home?”

“It's not that I don't love them. I just can't love them the way you can. You do love them, don't you?” Standing, he went around the overstuffed chair and stopped in front of her. He had to get her to understand. “This is a perfect solution for the kids. It's not all an act for your job, is it?”

“Garrett... I do love them.” She touched his face. Tears hung on her eyelashes. “You're such an incredible man. You never hesitated to bring two children into your life once you knew they needed you.”

Her gaze roamed over his face as if looking for something she'd lost. “That might be the biggest problem. I could easily love you. My heart would be wrapped up in you so fast...but you don't want my heart, do you? You just want me to love your children.” She stepped back and shook her head. “I can't be in that kind of marriage. It would destroy me.”

Heat burned his gut. He had to fix this. He had to make her stay. “I can't be a father without you.”

“You want to love everyone at arm's length because it's safer for you.”

Now there was a hint of anger in her voice. Somehow he'd messed this all up and needed to fix it. “It's not about me.”

“Yes, this is all about you. How
you
might fail them. How
you
can't love them enough. How
you
can't be the perfect father. Guess what—humans make mistakes. None of us are perfect, not a single one of us. It can't be an excuse to stop trying. To stop giving. Your kids deserve all of you.”

She crossed her arms around her waist. A sob broke up her breathing. “Whoever your wife will be deserves all of you. Not a watered-down shadow of the man you're afraid of being.”

The tears fell freely now. “You have to figure out how to let people in and trust them with your broken parts, or you'll never be whole enough to love someone.”

“You want me to say I love you? Should I have brought flowers and gotten on one knee? That's what I did for Viviana. Would that make all the ugliness better?”

Restless, he started pacing behind the sofa. Each step full of the anger at all the people he had loved. “My mother loved my father. She did everything to keep him. She also spent hours crying. I loved Viviana with every fiber of my being and told her that every time we were together. I gave her everything I had, and look where that got us. A mess with a little boy who didn't trust the world enough to speak.”

He stopped and glared at Anjelica. She wanted something that didn't exist. “What I'm offering you is respect and friendship. I could say the words if it'll make you feel better. But we both know they don't mean anything.”

Her eyes were now red and puffy as she wiped at the tears. He stood, feet planted. He would not give in to her. That was what he always did with his mother and Viviana. “I won't let you manipulate me with tears.”

A rough laugh sounded from her soft lips. “Oh, Garrett. I hate that I'm crying right now.” She wiped her hand on her jeans. “Believe me, if I could, I would dry them up and walk out. I would, but I can't. I also can't make you feel something you don't. I do love your children.”

Her hand motioned toward the nursery. “They own my heart as if I'd given birth to them myself, but I will not marry you just to be their mother. You have been through some inhumane events. Please talk to someone about it. Someone who will understand everything you've been through.”

“I don't need to talk to anyone.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“There's nothing wrong with asking for help! I spent many hours talking and listening in a grief group.”

That sounded worse than his nightmares. He looked at the pictures on the shelf behind her. “There are parts of me so broken I can't give you the kind of marriage you want. I think there might be a war in me I can't win.”

“I believe that God has the ability to fix the most broken clay pot. If only we decide to give it to Him.” Turning her back to him, she walked over to her books. “I understand broken. I've been there in my own way.” Her fingertips brushed along the spines until she came to a black leather book.