Authors: Rachel Brimble,Geri Krotow,Callie Endicott
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Romance, #Contemporary, #Series, #Harlequin Superromance
“He’s had a rash of ear infections. The last one took him out of the second half of soccer season. He loves soccer, as he’ll be sure to let you know any minute now.”
Her exasperated expression reflected her obvious love for Pepé.
“I understand. I get antsy when I can’t get to the gym. You two must have a special bond.”
A small line appeared between her brows and Jonas swore he tasted the bottom of his uniform boots. How many times could he say the wrong words in one afternoon?
“I’m sorry, Serena. Obviously small talk isn’t my forte any more than pediatrics is.”
She opened her mouth to speak but Doc interrupted them.
“Commander Scott, this is Pepé, my main man. I’ve known this kid since he moved on island last spring. He’s a champ. Pepé, this is Commander Scott, and he’s going to take care of you.” Doc raised his hand for Pepé’s high-five slap.
“Yes, sir.”
Jonas gritted his teeth for the fifteenth time in as many minutes. This wasn’t going to be easy. If Doc Franklin had made the connection between Serena and Jonas, he wasn’t talking. And Jonas wasn’t about to mention it now, not after already shoving his foot down his throat twice.
Jonas walked Pepé and Serena back to the check-in station. He gestured for her to take the seat next to the computer desk as he smiled at Pepé.
“Go ahead and scoot up on the table for me, buddy.”
“Am I going to get a sticker?”
“After I check your ears, sure.”
“You sounded angry about the stickers, Mr. Scott.”
“It’s Commander Scott, Pepé.”
Serena’s smooth correction made Jonas smile. He had to hand it to her—she was raising the boy to show respect and courtesy.
“If it’s okay with your mom, you can call me Jonas, Pepé. I’m not a doctor like Doc Franklin. I’m a nurse practitioner and I can take care of you, too.”
“Mom, is it okay?”
“Sure,
mi hijo.
”
Jonas didn’t like the tired lines under her eyes. He disliked more that he cared about her parental exhaustion.
This was the woman who Dottie had given his house to.
Best to stick to the basics.
“ID?”
She handed over her and Pepé’s military ID cards.
Jonas’s fingers flew over the keyboard as he automatically typed in Pepé’s last name, the active-duty sponsor’s social security number—
His hands stilled.
Delgado, Philip. Gunnery Sergeant, U.S. Marine Corps. Deceased.
He knew Serena was a war widow. That she had a son. But to read it, in black and white, made him wish he could have been there, could have saved her husband. Anything to take the sorrow from her eyes.
He looked back at her. Her gaze was intent on her son and Jonas waited for her to look back up at him. When she did he saw the cold edge of distrust in her eyes.
She’d never believe his thoughts—she’d assume he wished her husband had lived so that Dottie wouldn’t have left the house to her. As he typed in the pertinent information about Pepé, his mind kept going over his last conversation with Dottie.
“You’ll love Serena. It’s as though she’s always been here. And her son, Pepé, is a doll.”
“Mom, I don’t understand why you never met her before now.”
Dottie had been his stepmother but he’d always called her “Mom.”
“Your uncle was a troubled man ever since he was a teenager. My father sent him to his family in Texas to get his life together after his Navy time was up. Instead of working on the ranch, making a living, he got a girl pregnant—Serena’s mother—who never wanted anything more to do with him. Her family supported her and her new baby. Serena didn’t know she had a biological family on her father’s side until your uncle died.”
Dottie’s heart had been so big. She’d been a successful Realtor—a single, never-married woman, liberated for her generation. Until Jonas’s widowed father, more than a decade her junior, showed up with four little boys. After that, she’d become a devoted wife and mother without missing a beat.
It had always been understood that Jonas would get the farmhouse. Dottie had repeatedly promised it to him. She’d planned to move into a more senior-friendly condo in downtown Oak Harbor once he returned from his seven-month deployment.
Instead, she’d died at the hands of a murderer soon after changing her will to leave Serena and Pepé the house.
Would Dottie have done that if Serena had a husband and home to go back to in Texas?
They’d never know.
* * *
S
ERENA
WATCHED
J
ONAS
’
S
face closely. Only a quick intake of breath, a scant second’s pause, as he read over her military dependent ID card. She forced her shoulders to relax—he knew about her and Pepé; there was nothing to hide. His emails inquiring as to whether she’d be willing to sell the house to him hadn’t surprised her, but the strength of her reaction had.
She’d made it clear that it was her house now, and it wasn’t for sale. It was going to stay in the Forsyth family as Dottie had wished.
He’d never replied in full to her last refusal of his offer, sending her a one-liner stating that he’d come to meet with her once he returned from downrange.
When he looked back up at her now, she tried to glance past him at the computer screen, anywhere but at the eyes as blue as Texas bluebonnets, blazing with an intensity that made her blood feel like lava in her veins. This heat didn’t come from the anger she’d experienced moments before. It was the kind of heat that two people share when they’re attracted to each other.
Her hormones had been relatively dormant since Phil’s death. Why did they have to start humming now? With the man who wanted to take Dottie’s house from her?
Not for the first time since Dottie’s will was read, Serena wondered what Dottie had been thinking. She must have expected her change of plans to upset Jonas, her stepson. She’d betrayed the man to whom she’d originally promised the house.
Jonas handed her ID back to her and she reflexively reached for it. But he held on to it for a moment, and she forced herself to look at him again.
“Again, Serena, I’m sorry. I’m afraid you’ve caught me at my most butt-faced moment.”
“Hey, you’re not supposed to stay that word!” Pepé said in his high-pitched voice.
“You’re right, Pepé. I’m not using my best manners today.”
“You need a time out.” Pepé spoke matter-of-factly and Serena winced at how closely his tone mimicked hers. Did she sound that stern with him when he acted out?
“I need more than that, my man.” Jonas swiveled his stool in front of Pepé, who sat on the small, kid-size examination table.
“You’re not a doctor, right?”
“No, like I said, I’m a nurse practitioner, and I’ll be looking after you.”
“Okay.” Pepé’s ever-practical acceptance never ceased to awe Serena. Acceptance saved one from a lot of grief and sorrow.... “Pepé, what have we discussed about correcting adults?”
“You have to listen to your mother, buddy, but you’re a good man to call me on my bad language.” Jonas smiled at Pepé and Serena curled her toes.
Jonas Scott wasn’t so easy to write off as a man who’d get over the loss of the house once he adjusted to her and Pepé living there. He was fully alive, fully present. And she found him as handsome in person as the photos of him in Dottie’s house had hinted.
She gave Jonas credit; he didn’t cover it up when he made a mess of things. She’d keep her observation to herself, though. She didn’t know him well enough yet. He hadn’t been able to make it home in time for Dottie’s funeral; he’d been too far downrange, too deep in country. He’d told his brothers to go ahead with it and not to wait for him. The oldest brother, Paul, was an attorney and kept her informed all along of the process of Dottie’s murder investigation, Serena’s initial status as a possible suspect and then the reading of the will.
Paul had supported her because, by blood, Dottie was her aunt. Dottie had loved her and Pepé as if they’d been a part of one another’s lives forever and not the short six months they’d shared before Dottie died. Because Dottie had vouched for Serena and introduced her to the other Scott brothers and their families, Paul believed in her innocence. Serena had been quickly removed from the suspect list by the island sheriff, so she hadn’t needed Paul’s legal support, after all. But it had been nice to know someone had her back.
Paul had warned her that Jonas was a little more than surprised that the house wasn’t his. They were all shocked by it, in fact. Dottie had promised it to Jonas when he was a teenager, after his father died and left Dottie a widow.
“I was going to call you, Serena. I’ve only been back a little more than a week.” Jonas’s deep voice stopped the flood of memories.
Before she could reply, he turned his attention back to Pepé.
“Ready for the machine?” Jonas grinned at Pepé, who smiled.
Serena knew she should be grateful that at least Pepé was still around military men. As if it would somehow help keep his few memories of his father alive. Sadness welled and she cursed the ache in her heart for what might have been.
What
should
have been.
“Sure, Jonas!”
Jonas placed the small cuff on Pepé’s upper arm and pressed the button to start the blood pressure reading.
“Open up.”
Pepé opened his mouth, all the while staring at Jonas. Pain mingled with the regret she’d feel the rest of her life for what Pepé was missing by not having his own father around. The only emotional balm in all of it was that Phil had died when Pepé was barely four, so he didn’t remember a whole lot about his dad—and the memories of grief would fade. They’d already faded for him.
Unlike her.
“So what are you here for, buddy?” Jonas had pulled the thermometer out of Pepé’s mouth and entered the results into the computer.
“I had an ear ’fection but it’s better now. No more yucky medicine!”
“Okay, well, let’s see what your ears look like. He get a lot of these?” Blue eyes. Unblinking. Professional. No further discussion of the house they both wanted. That she owned. Not here.
She wanted to grab him and make those eyes glaze over with lust for her.
Maybe it was time to start dating again. Not Jonas, of course. Another man, who wasn’t off-limits to her.
“Ear infections? Not until we moved here over a year ago. This is his third one since then.”
“What convinced you to stay on Whidbey? It couldn’t have been just the house.”
She heard the veiled cleverness behind his casual conversation. As if he didn’t know.
“Life. Getting the house from Dottie was a dream come true.” That was plain mean. She opened her mouth to apologize, to appease her twinge of guilt.
“Well.” His eyes stayed cool and made it clear that, like her, he wasn’t going to share anything more personal. His focus was on Pepé.
Serena knew a moment of unabashed shame. She should give him a break. The poor guy had just come back from war, for heaven’s sake. His stepmother had died while he was gone, and he hadn’t been able to say a proper goodbye to the woman who’d raised him. Serena remembered seeing him in photos Dottie had scattered all around the house. In one photo, he’d been tall and well built in his Navy dress uniform, at his brother’s wedding.
All the photos were gone—the brothers had come and collected Dottie’s most personal belongings before Serena had a chance to take possession of the house. They’d left behind Dottie’s collection of knickknacks and a house that was falling apart at the seams, if she were brutally honest. It wasn’t anything she blamed Jonas’s family for, though. Dottie was too busy making the most of every single day to concern herself with the daily maintenance of an old farmhouse.
Dottie’s will and the fact that she’d given the house to Serena had become public knowledge only after Dottie’s funeral.
He’d been at war. He deserved to know why she was the one who’d gotten the house. Problem was, she didn’t know why Dottie had left it to her and Pepé, either. A legacy gift, yes, but at the risk of so much dissension in his family. Especially with Jonas Scott.
A quick knock sounded and a hospital corpsman popped her head around the door.
“Your next patient is ready in exam room three, Commander Scott.”
“Thanks, I’ll be there soon.” Jonas proceeded to examine Pepé’s ears, ignoring her presence.
Serena’s chance to smooth the way with Jonas evaporated.
CHAPTER TWO
Whidbey
Island
January 1941
S
ARAH
F
ORSYTH
HAD
seen a lot in her twenty-one years, more than most girls from Whidbey Island, Washington. She’d also found the love of her life in her husband, Henry, and enjoyed a life with him and her daughter that she had no desire to see upset with one of Henry’s crazy ideas.
“I’m a pilot and I’m the best man for the job, Sarah. My two years of college are all I need. I’m going to be an officer.”
Sarah tried to assimilate Henry’s words while keeping an eye on their daughter, Dottie, who was occupied with her rag doll near the woodstove. Their dinner plates were still on the table where they’d left them after Henry spoke the words that shattered their domestic tranquility.
“We agreed that you’d keep flying whenever you had a chance to make extra money, as long as it didn’t keep you gone for more than a week at a time. Now you’re talking about, what, going all over the world to save people? You have a family
here,
Henry. Your daughter needs you. She’s not even five yet!”
“Our
country
needs me, Sarah. If we don’t all pitch in, the Japanese are going to take over. If not them, the Germans. Do you want Sarah learning anything but English when she starts at the schoolhouse next fall?”
“I want Sarah to have her father!”
Rage welled in her, worse than when she’d fought him about moving back to his hometown in Texas instead of Whidbey Island. When he’d agreed to move to her family’s farmhouse in Washington State, she’d thought the flying bug was out of his system.
“Honey, I knew Texas was too far from your family, and I knew you wanted to move back to the farm. I’m happy here, and we’ll all be happy here again, when I get back. When this damn war is over and we can live in freedom again.” His eyes blazed with a conviction that made her shudder. This wasn’t another of Henry’s whims.
“But we’re not even in the war yet!” Why did Henry have to jump the gun on everything? “How much freedom is it for me to have to raise Dottie all by myself, Henry?”
“You have your family here with you, Sarah. You’re not alone. The farm’s pulling in good money with the milk and eggs. Your job at the library is going to work out for you, too.”
“But Dottie...”
“Has a good mother who will take the best care of her.”
“Momma, can I go play with my doll in my room?” Dottie never liked being around her parents when they argued, no matter how innocuous. She enjoyed the make-believe world she lived in with her Raggedy Ann.
“Sure, honey. Be a good girl and put your nightie on, too.” It was best that Dottie didn’t hear all of this.
Sarah looked at the man she’d fallen in love with when he was still so young. That was more than five years ago, when she’d been sixteen and he was eighteen. Henry Forsyth had grown into a solid specimen of manhood.
Her
specimen. She didn’t want him to die.
“You don’t even know if they’ll take you.”
Henry was much older than the local boys she’d heard had gone to Seattle to enlist.
“The Army recruiter said I’m a shoe-in with my flying experience. I have to sign the papers by tonight.”
Those commitment papers required him to complete Army Air Corps pilot training, or, if he flunked out, agree to serve as an enlisted soldier for a term of three years.
Three years wasn’t forever; she knew that. But it was more than half of little Dottie’s life at this point. What about a sibling for her? When would that happen?
Sarah knew that if the Americans joined the war Henry’s three-year commitment could turn into forever.
In the worst way.
“You’re lying. You already signed those papers while you were down in San Diego!”
He looked guilty, which gave her hope for his soul but didn’t make her any happier about what he’d signed up for.
“I should’ve insisted that you help Papa on the farm full-time when he asked.”
“You know that would never have worked for me, Sarah. I have to be in the air. Plus the extra money I’ve pulled in hasn’t hurt, has it? I’ll be making more money in the Army Air Corps.”
She knew it was true. He’d learned to work as a crop-duster in his early teens beside his daddy and older brother back in Texas. During the dust bowl years, Henry had gone west and found work flying crop dusters up and down the coast, from California to Washington. She’d met him by chance on the dance floor at the Washington State Fair in Puyallup. Lucky for her he’d been on a break from flying and in search of some fun.
He’d been so handsome, his face all lit up by the lights from the amusement games of chance. Each booth had bright white bulbs that glowed yellow at night. The night felt soft—the sun took longer to set in midsummer, and it had been so warm on the mainland, far away from Whidbey. Papa had taken their entire family off the island for the whole day. He’d used all the money they’d made from selling milk and told Mama “more money will come in. The kids need to see there’s more to the world than Whidbey Island.”
They hadn’t counted on their youngest daughter, only fifteen, falling in love with a complete stranger. A stranger who showed up on Whidbey Island six months later to woo her. He caught flights up and down the west coast, arriving on Whidbey every few months.
Sarah had been a senior in school the last year they’d dated and hoped to go to college some day. History had always fascinated her. She planned to work a few years after high school and save enough money for classes. But love won out—she and Henry had made a baby one night under the apple tree in Papa’s orchard. On the quilt her grandmother had hand-stitched for her hope chest. She’d snuck it out of the cedar box Papa had built, knowing the night was going to be cold. Knowing she wanted Henry to kiss her again and again.
“You’re a good husband, Henry. And a good father. That’s why I don’t want you to go.” She wasn’t manipulating him; she meant it. He’d made enough money for them to live very comfortably on the land her father had given them, including the small cottage they lived in. He promised her the farmhouse once her siblings were married off, when he and Mama were ready to switch and take the cottage. Papa believed the farmhouse should always be for a growing family, and he wanted to keep it in Forsyth hands.
Henry made sure she got her dream. Well, as much as she could, being a new mother and all. He helped her take correspondence courses so she could work at the town library as a clerk. He went to night school, hoping to one day have a four-year degree. They’d done well so far.
Sarah loved books, stories, facts, history. And if the accounts of World War I that she’d recently read were any indication, she might never see Henry again.
“Henry, remember hearing about how hard the Great War was on our families?”
His expression softened, and for the first time since he told her he was going to fly for the Army Air Corps he looked doubtful.
“Yes.” His grandfather had died in the trenches at Ypres, and her father’s older brother had come back shell-shocked and never quite recovered his original wits.
“I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, honey.” She walked up to him and threw her arms around him. He held back for just a split second and she knew.
He’d already started to make the mental preparations to go. He had to. He was a man who loved his country and wasn’t going to let some crazy dictators around the world ruin it.
Sarah laid her head on his chest and listened for his heartbeat. It was the one thing that could soothe her. When she’d started her labor with Dottie all she’d wanted was to rest on her side, her ear to Henry’s chest, the steady
thump-thump
taking her thoughts away from the excruciating pain.
“Sarah. I love you so much, darling.” He raised his hand to her hair and stroked it away from her face.
“I know you do, Henry.” She raised her lips to his and they shared the kiss that a couple does before a long separation. Deep, loving and warm. Never enough.
“I’ll help you pack later, after I get Dottie to bed.”
“I don’t need to take much. They’re giving me a whole new wardrobe!”
He tried to amuse her, to crack lighthearted lines here and there while they gathered his few personal items and stacked them neatly in the small duffel the Army recruiter had given him.
“How long before you ship out?”
“I’ll probably get through the flight training pretty fast, and then be out there before the end of the year.”
“Where’s ‘there’?”
“Somewhere in the Pacific.”
His expression was as neutral as stone and she knew it pained him to leave her, to leave Dottie. She also saw the pilot’s anticipation simmering in his eyes. Henry was gearing up for a fight, for the war they likely faced. Her heart squeezed with longing as she acknowledged, at least to herself, that it could indeed be the fight of his life.
* * *
H
ENRY
HADN
’
T
TOLD
Sarah everything. He couldn’t worry her. Besides, he would come back—he was the best pilot he knew, and nowhere did he feel more at ease than in a cockpit.
The recruiter had been slicker than any of the politicians he’d had occasion to ferry from town to town when his crop-dusting jobs had petered out midwinter. But Henry saw past the Army haircut and the quick talk. He saw a chance to really make a difference, to maybe even have a career that he could bring Sarah and Dottie along on.
Sarah never wanted to leave Whidbey; he knew that. Yet with a little time and some persuasion from him, he thought she’d be willing to move. The recruiter had said he could get stationed in Hawaii! Why wouldn’t Sarah want to join him there, to have Dottie run on hot sand instead of freezing wet grass most of the summer? “I’ll send you my paychecks as soon as I get them. My pilot training is going to be at Moffett Field, in California. I’ll be an aviation cadet, enlisted, because of my high school diploma. But I’ll become an officer if I can, Sarah.” He watched her long fingers hover over his freshly pressed undershirts, her lips wobbly as she tried not to cry.
Dear, sweet Sarah. She was tough as nails one minute, a complete cream puff the next. It was part of what he loved about her.
“That’s not necessary.”
“Sure it is. You can save it all, or use it to buy yourself a pretty dress.”
She threw down his one pair of pajamas and propped her hands on her hips as she faced him.
“I don’t need a pretty dress, Henry. And I can make enough off the farm and my library position to support Dottie and me just fine. But I don’t give a darn about any of it. I want you to come back safe, do you hear me?”
He stared into her green eyes and knew he’d come back. He didn’t have a choice; they were meant to be together.
She’d said “come back.” So she’d accepted that he needed to do this; he needed to go.
Unlike the reaction he’d expected, her capitulation didn’t make him feel jubilant. The reality of the months, possibly years, apart made his chest feel as it there was a huge weight on it.
“I’ll come back better than ever, Sarah Jean. You just watch me.”
He smiled at her, the way he did after he brought her to climax, the private smile that always made her blush. When her cheeks turned rosy he grabbed her hand.
“Is Dottie asleep by now, do you think?”
“She closed her eyes as soon as I turned out her light.”
“Come to bed with me, Sarah. Love me.”
“Oh, Henry.”
She trembled with her need and he knew he’d remember this night through all his days away. He unbuttoned the six tiny red buttons that ran in between her breasts and slid his hand over her breast, encased in a simple white cotton bra. He teased her nipple through the material and she bit his earlobe.
“Don’t torture me, Henry.” Her breath was sweet and her skin hot as she unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants.
“There’s nothing here but pleasure, darling.” He hiked up her dress and pulled it over her arms, which she’d lifted to help him. Her dress and his pants hit the pine floor of the farmhouse at the same time, followed quickly by their underwear.
Sarah turned to clear the bed of his luggage.
“Wait.”
She turned back to him. “What?”
“Let me do this for you, before we go to the bed.”
He knelt down in front of her and she sighed, her hands massaging, then gripping, his shoulders. Henry had to have all of her tonight. As he breathed in her essence and used his mouth to make her cry out, he prayed it wouldn’t be the last time.