The SEAL's Stolen Child. Laura Marie Altom

Two

      Garrett planned to be at Eve’s by sunrise, but his mom talked him into the more reasonable hour of nine. A mistake. In the night, Hal had indeed died. The place now crawled with attorneys and funeral-home suits.

      Upon ringing the front doorbell, he’d been greeted by a uniformed maid, then shown to the solarium. “Ms. Barnesworth will be with you shortly.”

      “Thanks.”

      This had been Eve’s favorite room. Was it still?

      Garrett had to admit, it was pretty cool. Outside, it was fifty and raining, yet in here the weather was always in the balmy eighties, smelling of loamy earth and sweet orchids. Beneath the domed glass ceiling resided a tropical rain forest, complete with palm trees, blooming hibiscus and a pair of huge, red lories. He couldn’t believe the birds were still alive. What were their names? Rhett and Scarlett? Brick paths meandered alongside a slow-moving stream. In the massive room’s center were wrought-iron tables surrounding a splashing, three-tiered fountain.

      Garrett had a seat, trying to let the soothing surroundings calm his erratic thoughts. What if Hal’s deathbed ramblings were true, and he and Eve did share a son? He was no P.I., and didn’t have a clue how to find a child who no doubt Hal had wanted to remain lost.

      “I almost called you.” When Eve appeared, his pulse soared. She wore a figure-skimming black dress and matching pumps. Her long blond hair had been restrained in a fancy updo he didn’t much like. This flawless woman wasn’t the Eve his memory knew. He’d first loved her messy, wearing her red-and-white cheer warm-ups with a crooked ponytail, painting homecoming posters while sitting on the gym floor. A lousy painter, she’d always managed to get more on her and her surroundings than whatever she was supposed to be creating.

      “Why didn’t you?”

      She shrugged, joining him at the table. “What would we have said? All of this seems easier handled in person.”

      “Probably true.”

      Hands clasped, she said, “Daddy’s lawyer will be here soon. I find it easier to think out here than in my father’s office.”

      “Agreed. Last time I was in there wasn’t good.”

      “What did he say?”

      Her question and overall fragility threw him off guard. How many times had he rehearsed what he’d do should their paths ever cross? Yet now, all of that escaped him. Her complexion pale, body rail thin, his sole thought was to wonder when she’d last had a decent meal.

      Garrett cleared his throat. “Hal told me our baby died and that you’d chosen to complete your basic education in a Connecticut finishing school. Had Google been what it is now, I probably could’ve found you, but…” He shrugged. “Water under the bridge.”

      She stared past him, deep into her own world. “I was so devastated over losing the baby, I just did what I was told. To go from feeling life growing inside you, to grueling hours of lonesome labor, only to come out on the other side with my arms empty, I…”

      “For what it’s worth, I hurt, too. I used to have nightmares you’d died. I spent so much time moping my folks took me to a shrink. I know you loved your father, but I’ve gotta tell you, the man meant nothing but trouble to me.”

      “Good. You’re both here.” Barry Stevens had been Hal’s personal attorney, friend and Coral Ridge bigwig for decades. Every edition of the Coral Ridge Gazette carried an ad for the guy’s law firm featuring the Scales of Justice, along with Barry’s meticulous swoop of white hair and supersize smile. Though they’d never formally met, the lawyer extended his hand and worked his trademark smile as if they were long-lost friends. “Garrett, good to see you. Each and every one of us here in town is darned proud of all you’ve accomplished.”

      “Thank you, sir.” Garrett would’ve preferred a more flippant retort but, for Eve’s sake, kept his sarcasm to himself. If he’d been president, it wouldn’t have been good enough for Garrett to be with Hal’s little girl.

      “Okay.” Barry set a few files on the table before taking his seat. “Eve has filled me in on her father’s deathbed confession and in doing so, I believe, given me just cause to break attorney-client privilege.”

      “Wait…” The comprehension of this suit’s admission hit Garrett harder than any stray bullet. So it was true? He actually had a son? Mind spinning, chest tight, he found it hard to breathe. During the endless night, he’d convinced himself the whole thing was a cruel joke. That in the morning, Hal would pop out of bed with his pompous barrel laugh, bragging about how he’d gotten them good. “You knew about this from day one, yet did nothing to stop it?”

      “Slow down there, partner.” Barry tidied his files. “My hands were tied.”

      Eve started to cry.

      “The only thing Hal told me—and this was only after a couple glasses of Macallan Scotch—was that your son hadn’t died. I pressed him for more, told him you both had a right to know, but he admitted neither of you had even wanted the baby, so this resolution was best. Absolved you both from any guilt, so you’d feel free to get on with your lives.”

      Barry reached out to comfort Eve, but she pushed him away. “Don’t touch me.”

      The lawyer held up his hands. “I’m sorry. I advised Hal he’d handled the whole situation poorly, but he was insistent no one ever know.”

      “Where is our son now?” Garrett pressed clenched fists to his knees. There was so much he wanted—needed—to say, but what would going off on this guy solve?

      “God’s honest truth?” Barry’s expression was sober. “I don’t have a clue.”

      * * *

      “HOW COULD HE DO THIS to me—us?” Seated in her father’s oversize leather desk chair, Eve felt lost. Barry and his crew had long since left and she’d learned Hal had preplanned his funeral down to which hymns he wanted sung and what he wanted to wear. She’d known her father liked to be in charge, but one more revelation about just how controlling he truly had been might send her over the edge.

      Garrett glanced up from the file he sifted through. “Wish there was something I could say or do. Pretty much from day one, I didn’t hit it off with your old man, but I get how to you, he hung the moon. You’ve gotta feel like you’re losing him twice.”

      “Yeah.” It was uncanny how even after all the years between them, Garrett still knew her thoughts. Much more time together and they’d be back to finishing each other’s sentences. “Find anything?”

      He flashed her a half smile. “You own a cabin in Aspen.”

      “Swell.” Covering her face with her hands, she sighed. “All this money, yet I’d trade every cent to turn back time.”

      “What would you do different?” He moved on to the next folder in a cabinet filled with hundreds—none labeled.

      What a loaded question.

      Would she go back far enough just to claim their baby? Or further still so that they’d never shared their first joke, kiss or attempt at making love?

      “More like what wouldn’t I do?” Cheeks superheated, she dived into her own file relating to the buying and selling of Exxon stock.

      “You regret us ever being together?”

      “I didn’t say that.” She moved on to the next file. “I just meant I’ve made a lot of mistakes.”

      “One of them being me?”

      “Seriously?”

      He shrugged. “I wasn’t the one who for all practical purposes vanished. If you’d wanted, you could’ve found me a dozen different ways.”

      “It wasn’t that easy,” she lied. So what if she had called him or written? What good would it have done?