An Officer, a Baby and a Bride Read online

  Before her brilliant daughter—because of course, she would prove to be brilliant—had a chance to respond, the familiar sound of Rebecca’s mother and sister arguing floated from the kitchen. Now what? When Allison and Jocelyn got into it, they could keep going for hours.

  Resigned to playing peacemaker, Rebecca trudged toward the kitchen. Jocelyn was only twenty-two, seven years younger than Rebecca, and hadn’t yet learned to pick her battles with their mother. Allison Carmichael, as much as Rebecca loved her, was the type of mother that completely took to heart the saying, “Mother knows best,” even when she didn’t.

  Rebecca paused at the threshold, taking stock of the situation before making herself known. The two women were on the other side of the room, each gripping one end of a large, plastic platter filled with tiny, cutout sandwiches that, thankfully, were not pink.

  Allison’s platinum-blond-dyed hair was loose and disheveled, the greater part of it no longer clasped behind her head. Her cheeks were flushed a flustered red and her green eyes held the fire of defiance. She was definitely in mother-knows-best mode.

  She tugged on the platter. “Let it go, Jocelyn! I’m not finished with it.”

  Rebecca’s sister, a shorter and much younger version of Allison, whose blond hair had yet to need the help of a colorist, tugged the tray back toward her. “You are too finished, Mother! There is nothing wrong with the amount of sandwiches on this platter.”

  “You have at least twelve people coming here today, young lady. With you, me and Rebecca, that’s a minimum of fifteen. You need to serve enough sandwiches so everyone can take two.” Allison yanked at the tray again. “Why don’t you ever listen?”

  “Because that’s stupid! Not everyone will want—”

  “Stop! Both of you,” Rebecca said, deciding if she didn’t halt this now, her kitchen would shortly be decorated with flying mini-sandwiches. “Mom, let go of the tray. Jocelyn’s right. She’s planned this, so let her do it her way.”

  “Happy baby shower day!” Jocelyn said, her voice changing to its normal chipper tone. She continued to grip the platter with everything she had. “Did you see the living room?”

  “Yes, Rebecca. Did you see the outlandish amount of pink this child used?” Allison pulled the tray toward her. “I told her it was too much, but she refused to listen. As normal.”

  Wow. Rebecca didn’t agree with her mother often. Had the world stopped spinning on its axis when she wasn’t paying attention? “I think the living room looks terrific,” she said to save her sister’s feelings. “But I came in here to ask for your help, Mom. I see you’re busy, so…”

  “Oh!” Allison let go of the platter, causing Jocelyn to back up several paces in quick succession. “What can I help with?”

  Thinking fast, Rebecca said, “The nursery. Can you pop upstairs for a second?”

  “Of course I can.” Allison tucked a few strands of hair into place before focusing on Jocelyn. “Do what you want with those sandwiches, but I’m telling you there are not enough on that tray. The shower will barely get started and you’ll be back here refilling it.”

  Jocelyn set the platter on the counter while tossing Rebecca a grateful smile. “It’ll be fine. Go help Rebecca, Mom. I have this under control.”

  “Well, we’ll see, won’t we?” Allison whisked her petite form to the other side of the kitchen. “Are you coming, Rebecca?”

  “Go on up. I’ll be there in a minute.” Her mother nodded and exited the room. Rebecca waited until she heard Allison’s footsteps on the stairs before facing her sister. “Can you please try to get along with her today?”

  Jocelyn’s eyes—a mirror of their mother’s—narrowed. “I am trying. She’s ridiculous! She wasn’t even supposed to come with me this morning. She’s a guest! But no, she had to force her way into this like she does everything else.”

  “She means well. I know she’s been more high-strung lately than normal, but she loves us.” Rebecca stepped forward and pulled her sister into a tight hug. Well, as tight as she could with a seven-and-a-half-month-size stomach between them. “I’m having a baby. You’re leaving for grad school in the fall. For the first time in forever, Mom and Dad will be completely alone in that house. Give her a break.”

  Disengaging from the hug, Jocelyn said, “I didn’t think of it that way.”

  “Well, start thinking of it that way. They’ll miss you.”

  Jocelyn exhaled a long, drawn-out sigh. “Fine. I’ll add more stupid sandwiches to the platter, but I don’t see how that changes anything. You’re still having a baby and I’m still moving out of casa à la crazy in a few more months.”

  “It makes her feel good. Who cares why?”

  “She’s probably right, anyway.” Jocelyn coughed. “Just don’t tell her I said that.”

  “I won’t.” Rebecca chuckled as she made her way upstairs.

  Her family was her salvation. When she shared she was having a baby, they’d supported her instantly. Even her story about using a sperm bank to conceive had been accepted easily enough. Sure, there’d been a fair amount of concern, but that was natural. Being single and pregnant wasn’t on most parents’ to-be list for their daughters.

  Entering the nursery, Rebecca found her mother sitting in the antique rocking chair, her eyes misty and emotional. “Are you okay?”

  “Oh, honey. I’m fine. I don’t know what got into me.” Allison shook her head, as if surprised by her earlier vehemence. “Your sister’s all grown-up. I guess I need to accept that.”

  “You do, but I imagine it isn’t easy.” Rebecca leaned against the wall to support her aching back. “And I’ll need you lots after this little one is born. Six more weeks. I can’t believe how fast this pregnancy is flying by.”

  “I’ll be here for you every step of the way,” Allison promised. “I can’t wait to meet my granddaughter. I only wish…”

  “Wish what?”

  “I worry, that’s all.”

  “I’m ready for this,” Rebecca said with a glance around the fully furnished and ready-to-go nursery. “You don’t need to worry.”

  “You tell me that when your daughter is twenty-nine years old, pregnant and doesn’t have a partner to support her.” Allison blew out a shaky breath. “I know you believe you’ll never love another man like you loved Jesse, but honey-girl, you will.”

  Jesse. Rebecca’s heart still pinged at the memory of her first real love. He’d joined the Army and was killed in what the media liked to call “friendly” fire. If a person ended up dead, there was nothing friendly about it. Losing Jesse had been devastating, and it was because of this loss that Rebecca started writing to men and women who were stationed overseas.

  “My decision to have this baby wasn’t about Jesse,” Rebecca said quietly, adding another layer of duplicity to her original lie. “I miss him, but he’s been gone a long time.”

  “You still pine for him. And you haven’t dated a man in years.” Allison looked away. “As excited as I am about holding my granddaughter, I wish you’d given yourself a chance to meet someone else before deciding to become a single mother.”

  Rebecca pushed out a sigh. Part of her yearned to come clean about Seth Foster, the Air Force man she’d been pen pals with for months before an unexpected leave brought him to Portland. They’d arranged a meeting, and the heat between them had been instantaneous. She’d known before she finished her first cup of coffee that they’d end up in bed together.

  That weekend, along with one broken condom, resulted in a positive pregnancy test almost four weeks after Seth returned to duty. Sleeping with a man she’d barely met—their pen-pal correspondence notwithstanding—was a complete aberration for Rebecca. Explaining her uncharacteristic behavior to her family, especially when she didn’t plan on seeing Seth again, had seemed impossible. That was when she came up with the sp
erm bank story.

  And she hadn’t communicated with Seth since. She’d even changed cell phone providers and accepted a new phone number so he couldn’t contact her by telephone.

  “I couldn’t be more prepared than I already am. I really am okay.” And most of the time, she was. Even if she felt horrible for her lie. Even if she continually questioned her decision to hide her pregnancy from Seth. “Seriously, Mom. I can do this.”

  “You can do anything you set your mind to, but that won’t stop me from worrying. Or from wishing you had a partner to support you.” Allison glanced around the nursery. “What did you need my help with? Everything looks perfect.”

  Rebecca’s eyes welled with tears. She rubbed her cheeks when they dripped down. Darn pregnancy hormones. “Honestly? I just wanted a few minutes alone with my mother.”

  “I’m here.” Allison stepped over and kissed her on the cheek. “I know you agreed to this shower for your sister, but try to enjoy yourself. You deserve to celebrate your child’s life.”

  “You’re right.” Rebecca smiled through her tears. “Let’s celebrate.”

  Almost two hours later, Rebecca was enjoying herself. True, her living room was stuffed with an assorted mesh of family and friends, but the atmosphere held support, love and a fair amount of hilarity—much of which was due to Jocelyn’s creative baby shower games.

  They’d started with a round of “Who can suck the fastest?” where each guest had a baby bottle half-filled with punch and whoever emptied the bottle first won the prize. Rebecca’s best friend, Felicia, won, which tickled Rebecca to no end.

  Next was a relay race type of game. Guests were put into teams, and each team member had to quickly blow up a balloon, stuff the balloon under their shirt and then pop their balloon. Stuffing anything under Rebecca’s shirt proved impossible, so her team had lost.

  Now, they were in the beginning stages of playing “Pin the Sperm on the Egg,” and Rebecca had decided to sit this one out. She’d already successfully matched sperm with egg about seven-and-a-half months ago. In her opinion, that made her the clear winner.

  “Okay, ladies. I need you to line up,” Jocelyn instructed in a loud voice. “When it’s your turn, I’ll blindfold you, hand you one of these—” Jocelyn displayed one of the cutout sperms, which elicited another blast of laughter “—and spin you in circles. Whoever gets their sperm closest to the center of the egg wins!”

  Everyone except Rebecca formed a line that snaked through the living room and into the dining room. She couldn’t see well where she was—and oh, she very much wanted to see her mother holding a giant sperm—so she moved to a chair that gave her an unobstructed view.

  When Allison reached the front of the line, Rebecca’s lips twitched. Maybe it was juvenile to find this so humorous, but she couldn’t help it.

  The sudden peal of the doorbell stopped Allison’s hand in midmotion. Rebecca struggled to stand since she was closest to the door. “Someone get a picture of my mother, please. It will make a great addition to the baby book.”

  Jocelyn giggled. “You got it, sis.”

  “Oh, stop. You’re not taking a picture of me like this,” Allison said, her tone a good three octaves higher than normal. “My granddaughter will not see me…”

  Her mother’s indignant voice followed Rebecca to the door. Assuming her visitor was a late-arriving guest, she swung open the door without any hesitation.

  The first thing she saw was a set of ridiculously broad shoulders. Next was the firm, hard line of a clean-shaven, angled jaw. Her eyes widened and a tremor of shocked awareness whipped through her, nearly causing her legs to buckle.

  No. Oh, God. No!

  A tiny, barely heard moan escaped from her lips. This was bad. Really, really, bad. This was trouble with a capital T.

  Seth Foster. Here. And she had nowhere to hide.

  Chapter Two

  “Hello, Rebecca.” Seth, looking far too austere in his dress blues, dipped his head in appraisal. “I would’ve called, but you ruled out that basic courtesy by changing your number.”

  Rebecca had been wrong earlier. The world hadn’t stopped spinning on its axis then, but it surely had now. Grasping the doorframe, she willed herself to hold it together. She blinked, hoping she was experiencing some type of a weird, hormone-induced hallucination.

  If so, he looked good. Tall and strong. Fierce and confident. Black hair in a military cut that highlighted the chiseled, almost exotic features of his face. And those eyes. Far too dark to be described as brown, but a smidgen off from being pure black. The color reminded her of strong, rich coffee lightened with the smallest dollop of cream.

  “Wh-what are you doing here?” she whispered. “Why are you here?”

  His intense gaze dropped to her stomach. “I’d say I’m the one who should be asking the questions. I have several in mind. I hope you’re prepared to answer them.”

  “You need to leave. I’m not prepared for an unexpected visit.”

  “I’m not leaving, Rebecca.” His lips curved at the corners in a grin that didn’t meet his eyes. Even so, her knees weakened another fraction. Just as they had the first time he smiled at her. “You owe me a conversation, along with a few explanations.”

  “This…isn’t a good time,” she somehow managed to say. “I’m having a…um…a get-together. There are a lot of people here. You really have to go.”

  Seth narrowed his eyes. “Let me make myself very clear,” he said slowly, carefully. “It does not matter how often you ask, I am not moving so much as an inch until we talk.”

  “You can’t show up and expect me to drop everything at your whim.” She pushed out the words with the intent of sounding firm and decisive. Unfortunately, her shaking voice didn’t lend itself to strength as much as it gave credence to her anxiety.

  “Oh, but I do expect that. Given your obvious distress at my presence, it seems clear that I have rights here. Rights that you have chosen to ignore.”

  He knew. She allowed herself ten seconds of panic before she lifted her chin. He couldn’t know. Okay, her condition was obvious. Nothing she could do about that. But if she stuck with her story, maybe she’d be able to bluff her way out of this. She opened her mouth with every intention of doing so when her mother and sister appeared, crowding in on either side of her.

  Great. It seemed their timing was as impeccable as always.

  “What’s going on?” Jocelyn asked from Rebecca’s right side. “Who is this?”

  One brow shot up and a dash of genuine amusement sifted over Seth’s appearance. “Yes, Rebecca. I’m as interested in your response as they are. Who am I?”

  She gave him the evil eye. “A friend…of sorts. One of the military personnel I write to.” Addressing her mother and sister, she said, “He—Seth—didn’t have my phone number, so he thought it would be appropriate to stop by and say hi in person. He was about to leave.”

  “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Seth,” Jocelyn said curiously. “I’m Jocelyn, Rebecca’s sister, and this is our mom, Allison.”

  Seth stared at Rebecca as if her sister hadn’t spoken. “Don’t you mean ‘used’ to write to? The last time I heard from you was about a month after my leave, after the weekend we spent together. Do you remember that weekend, Rebecca?”

  She didn’t bother trying to speak. What could she say to that, anyway? Of course she remembered that weekend. Every scorching second was engraved in her memory.

  “Humor me for a minute, while I ascertain my timing is correct.” Seth angled his arms over his chest and leaned against the porch railing, looking for all the world as a man completely at ease. “We saw each other in mid-October. We corresponded as normal until the second week in November, which was when you ceased all contact. Would you say that was accurate?”

  Allison gasped from Rebecca’
s left, probably doing the math.

  “I’ve been a little busy.” Hey, why bother pretending there wasn’t a giant-size pink elephant hovering between them? “As you can plainly see.”

  “When is your due date?” He paused for a good fifteen seconds, as if to let the question—the insinuation—settle in. “If I’m right, I’d say you’re due in what…about six weeks?”

  “You’re wrong,” she said out of desperation. Her mother tensed beside her. “I’m due in August. The fourteenth. Ten weeks from now.”

  “Really? I heard something different,” Seth drawled. “You’re sure about that date?”

  “I know when I’m due,” Rebecca said, keeping her voice level and her gaze steady.

  Allison clasped her arm. “Sweetheart, is there a problem here I should know about?”

  “We should go inside, Mom,” Jocelyn said. “We still have guests here.”

  “Hold on a minute.” Seth’s jaw hardened as he looked from Allison to Jocelyn. “Maybe I should be asking you two these questions. Is Rebecca due in August?”

  “No,” her mother said clearly, if quietly. “She’s due in July, but I’m sure she has an excellent reason for saying August. You do, Rebecca, don’t you?”

  “This doesn’t concern us, Mother,” Jocelyn hissed. “You have to learn to butt out.”

  “It’s fine, Jocelyn.” Rebecca closed her eyes for a brief second and attempted to regain her balance. She wasn’t upset with her mother for being honest—no one should have to lie for her—but now she had to decide what to do about it. Could she salvage this? More to the point, should she? “My mother is correct. I’m due on July fourteenth.”

  Anger and disbelief, along with another emotion that Rebecca couldn’t identify, washed over Seth. “Six weeks, then, just as I said. Not ten. Why the lie?”

  “Because I knew you’d jump to the wrong conclusion and I didn’t feel like explaining the personal details of my life.” Swallowing heavily, she shrugged. “It seemed simpler and more expedient to fudge the dates a little.”