The SEAL's Stolen Child. Laura Marie Altom

years since circumstance ripped them apart and she’d left their small Florida town, Garrett had changed from boy to man. He seemed taller. He’d become a navy SEAL, and the breadth of his chest and shoulders told the story of how physically powerful he’d become. His hair used to be on the long side when she could’ve spent hours fingering his curls. Now he wore it in a painfully neat regulation crew cut that struck her as distant and cold as his impenetrable gray eyes. In high school, she’d known every nuance and expression of his dear face. With time and tragedy between them—and more anger than she’d sometimes thought her heart could bear—she doubted she’d have even recognized him as her first love had they met in a crowd.

      He cleared his throat, his gaze landing on the entry hall’s chandelier. “You, ah, look well.”

      “Thank you.” But have you bothered to take one long look at me since you stepped in the door? On such an upsetting occasion, it was understandable she’d be a well of emotions. Being on the verge of losing her father—her everything—was hard enough without tossing this reunion into the mix. Not sure what to do with her hands, she clasped them neatly against the small of her back. “Like I said on the phone, Daddy hasn’t even told me what it is he has to say.”

      “Right.” A nerve ticked on his hard, square jaw as Garrett nodded. “Well, I don’t mean to rush something like this, but your dad and I have never exactly been close and with me only in town on holiday leave, we’ve got a houseful of folks at Mom’s holding our Turkey Day dinner until I get home.”

      “Of course.” Reading between the lines, Eve got the gist of Garrett’s words. He didn’t give a damn about her beloved father’s deathbed request to see him any more than he’d cared to talk to her all those years ago. “I’ll take you to Daddy’s room.”

      * * *

      TRAILING EVE UP AN ENDLESS flight of marble stairs, carefully avoiding the sight of her rounded derriere, Garrett Solomon might as well have been in the Buxton County courthouse for all the warmth this place contained. Because Eve’s father, Hal, had been Coral Ridge’s mayor —like her grandfather—for the past forty years, it’d been dubbed the Mayoral Mansion.

      Garrett preferred the Snob Hill nickname one of his football pals had thought up. Regardless of the name, the sentiment was the same—enter the old place at your own risk. Garrett might be a SEAL now, but back when he’d been sixteen, sneaking up the servants’ staircase to Eve’s room, he’d had no idea how many years of torment the occupants of this house would cause him.

      “Just a little farther,” Eve said, casting a half smile over her shoulder.

      Right. The hall was wide enough to drive a VW Bug.

      “Good. You’re both here.” Grim-faced Dr. Mulligan slapped his newspaper against the empty half of a brown leather settee. Garrett hadn’t seen the man since he’d broken his arm at thirteen. “Hal’s been calling for you, but gave me the boot.”

      “Sounds like Daddy…” Teary-eyed, Eve hugged the salt-and-pepper-haired doctor. “I—I can’t thank you enough for being here. It’s been a horrible few days.”

      “Agreed.” The doctor stood, pulling open double doors that led into a dark room lit only by a bedside lamp. Antiseptic overrode the more putrid smells of sickness and pending death. Countless missions had taught Garrett that death indeed had a smell and it wasn’t pretty.

      A uniformed nurse sat near the patient, reading from the Bible. The old man had taken on religion a little late in life. “Mr. Barnesworth—” the woman moved to the foot of the bed, making room for Eve to stand near her father “—Eve is here.”

      “Garrett?” The old man’s voice scratched as if he’d dined on sandpaper.

      “I’m here.” Though Garrett preferred the shadows, he stepped into the lamp’s glow.

      “Come closer,” Hal said after a few shallow coughs.

      “Daddy—” Eve perched on the side of his bed, taking his hand “—we can come back later if you’re not feeling up for a talk.”

      “Nonsense.” Waving toward the nurse and doctor, he managed through another round of coughs to dismiss them both. “Can’t die in peace with this on my heart.”

      Garrett had been in a lot of strange places, but this one beat them all. The imposing, dark-paneled room housing a canopied bed suitable for royalty was about as welcoming as stepping into a museum exhibit. Not even the fire crackling in the hearth provided warmth.

      “Go ahead, Daddy. Garrett and I are listening.”

      “We a-alone?”

      His daughter nodded.

      “Your baby—” Hal surrendered to another fit of coughs.

      The old man’s words tightened Garrett’s chest.

      If prideful Hal Barnesworth hadn’t forced teenage Eve into some random, far-off home for unwed mothers, if Garrett had been allowed to care for her as he’d wanted, their baby might’ve lived.

      “It’s okay, Daddy. I forgive you for making me go.”

      With a violent shake of his head, the old man croaked, “No. N-not about that.”

      Garrett wasn’t forgiving squat.

      He might’ve been only seventeen when Hal told him his newborn son died, but that hadn’t lessened the pain. Even years later, during mission com-blackouts, his mind couldn’t resist playing a few rounds of what-ifs, plotting how different his life might be if not only his son had lived, but if Eve had cared enough about them both to stay in Coral Ridge.

      “Y-your son,” Hal whispered. “I’m sorry, but—” More coughs erupted.

      Silent tears glistened on Eve’s cheeks. Garrett knew the right thing would be going to her, offering her comfort during this obviously difficult time, but his feet felt frozen to the floor. Eve and her father once made his life a living hell. Could he now be blamed for not caring if the great Hal Barnesworth lived or died?

      “Daddy, please.” Eve gripped her father’s gnarled hands. “Save your energy. Maybe if you rest, you’ll feel better?”

      After a particularly violent round of coughs, the already gaunt man seemed to shrink within himself. “Y-your son isn’t d-d-dead.”

      “Shh…” Patting his hands, Eve said, “You’re delusional. My baby died a long time ago. Like you said, it was for the best, right? His poor little heart couldn’t support him. It was good he didn’t suffer.”

      Really, Eve? You’re drinking that Kool-Aid? How had losing their son been a good thing?

      “I l-lied.” More coughs.

      “About what?” Interest finally piqued, Garrett moved closer to the bed.

      “Your son’s alive. I—I took him. I—” More coughs made his next few words inaudible, then he rasped, “My precious E-Eve…I’m sorry…I l-love…f-for best.” He took a few deep, gasping breaths, then passed out.

      “Daddy? Please, wake up. Tell me what you mean.” Eve wrapped her arms around her father, hugging him to her. “Dr. Mulligan!”

      The bedroom’s doors burst open as the doctor hustled to the bed. “What happened?”

      “One minute he was t-talking—” Eve wiped tears from her cheeks “—and then he—”

      The doctor brushed her aside to check her father’s vitals. “His blood pressure’s dropped substantially in the past hour. Exhaustion’s taking a toll.”

      “Do something!” Eve shrieked. “Call an ambulance.”

      “I’m sorry.” The physician took a stethoscope from his suit coat pocket, gently nudging Eve aside. “Your dad signed a living will. With cancer and now pneumonia, he knew his time was coming and wished no extraordinary