The Soldier's Secret Child. Lee Tobin McClain

      Charlie nodded but didn’t say anything.

      Krystal strolled over to the back stoop of the Center, smoking a cigarette. Vito wished for a similarly easy way to calm his nerves.

      He wished he knew how to be a father. He’d only had Charlie full-time for a month, most of which they’d spent in Cleveland, closing down Vito’s previous life, getting ready to move home. Charlie had been well and truly welcomed by the Cleveland branch of Vito’s family, though everyone had agreed on waiting to tell Nonna about Charlie until the foster care situation was definite. If everything went well, he’d be able to adopt Charlie after another six months and be the boy’s permanent, real father.

      Learning how to parent well would take a lifetime.

      Vito got out of the car. The small, wire-supported trees around the brand-new building were trying their best, sporting a few green leaves. A robin hopped along the bare ground, poking for worms, and more birds chirped overhead. It was a nice summer day, and Vito was half tempted to get back in the truck and drive away, take Charlie to the lake himself.

      But that wasn’t the agreement he’d made. He opened the passenger door and Charlie got out. His glance in his mother’s direction was urgent and hungry.

      Of course. This visit was important. No matter what parents did, kids always wanted to love them.

      Vito forced a spring into his step as they approached the building and Krystal. “Hey,” he greeted her, and tried the door.

      “It’s locked, genius.” Krystal drew harder on her cigarette. She hadn’t glanced at or touched Charlie, who’d stopped a few steps short of the little porch.

      Looking at the two of them, Vito’s heart about broke. He considered his big, extended family up in Cleveland, the hugs, the cheek pinches, the loud greetings. He had it good, always had. He squatted beside Charlie and cast about for conversation. “Charlie’s been doing great,” he said to Krystal, not that she’d asked. “Going to sign him up for summer softball.”

      “Nice for you. I never could afford it.” She looked at Charlie then, and her face softened. “Hey, kid. You got tall in the past couple months.”

      Vito was so close to Charlie that he could sense the boy’s urge to run to his mom as well as the fear that pinned him to Vito’s side.

      The fear worried him.

      But Charlie would be safe. This was a supervised visit, if the caseworker ever got here.

      “You were Gerry’s buddy,” Krystal said suddenly. “Did you know about me, or did he just talk about her?”

      What was Vito supposed to say to that, especially in front of Charlie? The boy needed to think highly of his father, to remember that he’d died a hero’s death, not that he’d lived a terribly flawed life. “It’s better we focus on now,” he said to Krystal, nodding his head sideways, subtly, at Charlie.

      She snorted, but dropped the subject, turning away to respond to her buzzing phone.

      Focus on now. He needed to take his own advice. Except he had to think about the future and make plans, to consider the possibility of him and Charlie staying with the her—Lacey—that Krystal was mad about. Which would be a really rotten idea, now that the ramifications of it all came to him.

      He wasn’t sure how much Krystal knew about Lacey and Gerry, what kind of promises Gerry might have made to her. From what he’d been able to figure out, Krystal hadn’t known that Gerry was married, at least not at first. No wonder she was angry. Problem was, she’d likely pass that anger on to Charlie. She didn’t seem like a person who had a very good filter.

      And if she talked to Charlie about Lacey, and Charlie was living at Lacey’s boardinghouse, the boy could get all mixed up inside.

      If Gerry were still alive, Vito would strangle him. The jerk hadn’t been married to Lacey for a year before he’d started stepping out on her.

      Krystal put her phone away, lit another cigarette and sat down on the edge of the stoop. She beckoned to Charlie. “Come on, sit by me. You scared?”

      Charlie hesitated, then walked over and sat gingerly beside her. When she put her arm around him, though, he turned into her and hugged her suddenly and hard, and grief tightened her face.

      Vito stepped back to give them some space and covertly studied Krystal. He didn’t understand Gerry. The man had had Lacey as a wife—gorgeous, sweet Lacey—and he’d cheated on her with Krystal. Who, admittedly, had a stellar figure and long black hair. She’d probably been beautiful back then. But now the hair was disheveled. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, her skin pitted with some kind of scars. Vito wasn’t sure what all she was addicted to, but the drugs had obviously taken their toll.

      It looked like she’d stayed sober to visit with Charlie today, knowing she’d have to submit to a drug test. Maybe she’d had to stay clean a couple of days. That would put any addict into a bad mood.

      Even before she’d been an addict, Krystal couldn’t have compared to Lacey.

      A battered subcompact pulled into the parking lot and jolted to a halt, its muffler obviously failing. The driver-side door flew open and the short, curly-haired caseworker got out. After pulling an overstuffed briefcase and a couple of bags from her car, she bustled over to them.

      “Sorry I’m late! These Sunday visits are crazy. Maybe we can switch to Mondays or Tuesdays?” She was fumbling for the key as she spoke. “Come on in, guys! Thanks so much, Vito!”

      “Charlie.” Vito got the boy’s attention, held his eyes. “I’ll be back at three, okay?”

      Relief shone on Charlie’s face. He ran to Vito, gave him a short hug and whispered into his ear: “Come back for sure, okay?”

      “You got it, buddy.” Vito’s voice choked up a little bit.

      Charlie let go and looked at Vito. Then his eyes narrowed and he grinned purposefully. “And can we stay at that place instead of the motel?” he whispered. “With the cat and the nice lady?”

      Vito knew manipulation when he saw it, but he also knew the boy needed both security and honesty.

      “What’s he begging for now?” Krystal grinned as she flicked her cigarette butt into the bare soil beside the building. “I recognize that look.”

      “I’m starting to recognize it, too,” Vito said, meeting Krystal’s eyes. Some kind of understanding arced between them, and he felt a moment of kinship and sorrow for the woman who’d given birth to Charlie but wouldn’t get to raise him.

      “Well, can we?” Charlie asked.

      “We’ll see. No promises.” Vito squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “You be good, and I’ll see you right here at three o’clock.”

      In reality, he wished he could just sweep the boy up and take him home, and not just to protect him from an awkward day with his mom. Vito wasn’t looking forward to the lunch date—no, not a date—he was facing in only a few hours. Whatever he and Lacey decided, it was going to make someone unhappy.

       Chapter Three

      “They left the two of us in charge of the nursery? Are they crazy?” Lacey’s friend Susan put her purse up on a shelf and came over to where Lacey stood beside a crib, trying to coax a baby to sleep.

      “I’m just glad it’s you working with me.” Lacey picked up the baby, who’d started to fuss, and swayed gently. “You won’t freak out if I freak out.”

      Working in the church nursery was Lacey’s counselor’s idea, a way to help Lacey deal with her miscarriage and subsequent infertility. She needed to desensitize herself, find ways to be around babies without getting upset by them, especially if she was going to open a family-friendly guesthouse