“She said she was waiting for me to return home. We met at the airport and I asked her to marry me right there.” His focus moved from the simple saltshaker to the balcony door. “Looking back, I realize I had made her into a woman of my dreams. I imagined us with a home and family that even included a dog. While reading her letters, I created a life in my head that wasn’t real.”
Wrapping her hands over her upper arms, she tried to stave off the cold that crept into her veins. All of the letters Steve wrote her during his tour in the Middle East had been about home, too. He talked about the long hours of doing nothing. Telling her how he reread her letters over and over to get a piece of normal. He would draw pictures of the farm and the projects he planned to start when he got home. There were pages where he wrote of their daughter’s future and all the kids they would raise. Her heart twisted. Don’t go there, Anjelica.
She packed thoughts of her husband away and fixed her attention on Garrett. “How old were you when you joined?”
“Eighteen. I had just graduated and didn’t have many options.” He blew a hard puff of air. “The Marines were a blessing. They gave me focus and a sense of belonging, but it wasn’t always easy.” Standing, he rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought we were ready for the next phase of our life. I wanted to feel normal.” He gave a harsh laugh. “That didn’t work out so well.”
Garrett walked to the French doors and opened one of them. The breeze released some of the tension that had weighed down the room. Four saxophone cases lined the wall. They were the only personal items other than a small stack of mail in his living quarters. The quietness lingered.
He reached for one of the cases. She’d heard him play several times, usually at night when he came in from work. Sometimes it was slow and soothing, other times energetic and raw, but it was always good. The music would wrap around her while she worked with the clay. She didn’t feel so alone when he played.
Dropping the strap, he stared off through the French door. With a sigh, he joined her at the table. “It’s hard allowing the old nightmare to resurface. A few weeks after we were married, Ed, one of her boyfriends she forgot to mention, started calling. Viviana ran to him, until he beat her—then she’d come home and I would patch her up. That had always been my job. After several attempts of trying to report him, I had to get out. At one point she threatened to tell the police I had hurt her. My career was on the line. I left. Changed my number. Deleted hers so I wouldn’t be tempted to check on her. I made a clean break. I made sure she had no way to get in touch with me. If I had just left her one way to contact me...” With his elbow on the table, he pressed his forehead into his palm.
She heard resentment in each word. If his ex-wife had hidden the boy from him, he had every right to be angry. “Why are you taking the girl, too? It sounds like there’s a chance the boy is not even yours. Why did they come to you for placement?”
“I guess we were still married when she gave birth, so my name is on the birth certificate and there’s no one else.” He shrugged. “As a little girl, she had dreams of living in the county with lots of animals.” He snorted. “I promised her I’d make her dreams come true. Maybe I can make good on the promise with her children. Also, I’d guess there is a fifty-fifty chance the boy is mine. I couldn’t take one without the other—she’s his baby sister. Can you imagine how much he would hate me if I didn’t bring his sister home with him?” He scanned the room and blew out a hard puff of air.
She still struggled with the idea of not knowing about a child and then taking in two. “Where’s their mother now? Why have they been taken from her?”
His jaw did the tick thing again and he nodded to the two folders she had set on the table. “Everything about them and their mother is in the folders.” He shook his head.
Picking up one of the folders, she flipped it open. “You haven’t seen the children?” It was the baby girl. Her heart melted at the big eyes, perfect tiny lips and tons of tight curls that surrounded the sweetest face. “Oh, Garrett, she’s adorable. Look at her.”
As if wearing a neck brace, he turned and gave the eight-by-ten photo a quick glance. With his attention back on the door on the opposite wall, he nodded. “She looks like her mother.” He moved away. “For now, I should clean out the office so it can become their room.”
“What happened? How’d she lose the kids? What about the fath...?” She flipped to the next photo. Shocked by the scene, her stomach heaved. The folder fell from her grasp. She leaned over and braced herself. “I’m gonna be sick.”
Garrett rushed to her side. He muttered under his breath as he pulled her hair back. “Do you need the restroom?”
Forcing in deep breaths, eyes closed, she shook her head. “No, I’m fine now.”
“I should have warned you the crime-scene photos might be in there.” He went to the mini refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water. “Here.” He pressed the cold plastic into her hand.
Sitting up, she leaned her head back. She adjusted her scarf. Knowing horrible things happened was one thing; seeing them in pictures was a completely different story. How was she going to get that out of her head? “Oh, Garrett, those poor babies. We have to help them.”
Garrett pulled the other chair next to her and placed his hand on her shoulder at the base of her neck. “I’m sorry. I should’ve looked through them before letting you see the folders. I was...just avoiding.”
“Were they in the room? Did they see what happened to their mother?”
“The boy might’ve been.” He was so close she could hear his breathing. “Pilar is a baby and, hopefully, won’t have any memory.” Leaning back, he pushed his hair away from his forehead.
With the folder in hand, she was careful not to look at the bloody photos, instead focusing on the picture of the little girl and her information sheet. “Her name is Pilar Rose. She just turned ten months old.” Making sure to breathe, she reached for the second folder.
Hand flat on the folder, he spread his long fingers over it as if to protect her from the contents. “I just want to see him.” She held her hand out for the deceptively plain folder Garrett covered. “I’m prepared now. I was caught off guard. Let me see them.”
Instead of handing over his son’s file, he opened it.
She kept her gaze on Garrett’s face as he stared at the top photo of the little boy. He blinked several times and his throat worked up and down. Not able to resist, she peeked over his arm and saw a serious little boy with Garrett’s green-gray eyes staring back at them. He was a little darker with a mop of curly hair, but other than that, she was looking at a young version of the man sitting next to her. Garrett pressed his hand over his eyes.
She moved back, wanting to give him space to collect himself. Two breaths in, one hard breath out. Counting the steady rhythm gave her something to focus on instead of asking questions. He was breathing with his whole body. A broken heart was nothing new to her, but to watch such a controlled man fighting to hold it together made her want to wrap him in her arms.
The hard muscle along his jaw popped. This time, instead of wanting to scowl at him, she wanted to comfort him. Fisting her hand in her lap to keep from running her fingers along the tense muscle, she fought the urge to sooth him.
After a long while, he slid his hand down his face and covered his mouth, looking up at the ceiling. She saw moisture on his eyelashes. He handed her the photo, paper-clipped to an information sheet. Scanning the sheet gave her somewhere safe to look. “Garrett River Kincaid Jr. He has your name.”
“And apparently everything else, too. No DNA test needed. It’s like looking at an old picture of me as a kid.” He stood but didn’t go anywhere. The silence grew tense.
She didn’t know what to say, so she tossed a few words around. “He has curly hair.” Well, that was a