Her Military Man. Laura Altom Marie

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      Chapter Three

      “Mom?” Lindsay asked, clutching Toby, her favorite rabbit, to her chest. “What’s up?”

      “Nothing too exciting,” Constance said, looking up from the dismal family budget with a forced smile. In dusk’s gloom, she sat at the rolltop desk in the living room’s southwest corner, fingering the simple gold chain she always wore. Her stepfather used to sit there paying bills, as had her grandfather. Everything had worked out fine then, and it would now, too. By sheer will, if need be.

      “Then how come you look so bummed?”

      “Just my allergies,” Constance said, pushing back the rickety, straight-backed wood chair with its cracked black leather seat. “You know how I get this time of year.”

      “Yeah,” Lindsay said, perching on the edge of the lumpy blue floral sofa. While scratching behind the rabbit’s floppy ears, she touched her chin to the top of his soft head. “I know.”

      “You get your current events report finished?”

      “Uh-huh. I found this cool story on a girl shark who swam from Australia to South Africa.”

      “Sounds cool.” Constance closed the spiral notebook she used to keep track of finances—or rather, their lack thereof.

      “Yeah, it is. You gonna come hear me give my speech? Miss Calloway said ’cause it’s spring open house, there’s gonna be cookies and stuff. And the big kids are having special speakers visit to talk about jobs. Kelly’s dad owns the video store. She said he’s handing out free movie coupons.”

      “That’s nice of him.”

      “Oh—and before I forget, Mrs. Conklin sent you some paper on a play we’re doing for the end of school program. I have to learn my lines and you have to help.”

      “What’s the play?”

      “Red Riding in the Hood—it’s supposed to teach us not to use drugs and stuff.”

      “Sounds good.”

      To get the budget further out of her mind, Constance shoved the notebook into a desk drawer, only she must’ve slammed it too hard as the wobbly knob they’d tried supergluing fell off in her hand.

      Lindsay burst out laughing.

      “Think that’s funny, do you?” Constance leaped up from the desk chair to push her daughter back on the sofa and tickle her good.

      “Stop!” Lindsay shrieked, giggling and snorting and tickling Constance right back. “You’re gonna make me pee!”

      “Then I guess it’s a good thing you—”

      A knock sounded on the screen door, then an all-too-familiar male voice asked, “This a private party, or can anyone join in?”

      Constance froze. Closed her eyes and struggled for breath.

      “Mom?” Lindsay asked. “Everything okay? Who is that?”

      “No one special,” Constance said, back on her feet and tidying her hair.

      Just your father.

      “What’re you doing here?” Constance asked, opening the screen door only wide enough to poke her head through, hopefully making it clear that Garret wasn’t welcome.

      “Truth?” he said with a shake of his head. “I’m not sure. Guess I felt like we need to finish our talk.”

      “What talk?” Constance asked, glancing over her shoulder to check where Lindsay might be lurking. To her horror, her daughter stood about three feet behind her.

      “Hi,” Lindsay said to their unwanted guest. “Do I know you?”

      “No!” Constance said after a gasp, pushing open the door, storming out, then slamming it behind her. Only, since it was a fairly puny antique wood door, she didn’t get much bang for her buck.

      “You must be Lindsay,” he said, leaning heavily on the nearest rickety wicker chair, glancing around Connie to wave at her daughter through the screen. “I heard about your rabbits.”

      “I like ’em lots,” Lindsay said, pushing at the door so hard in her attempt to get out that the screen’s trim dug into Constance’s back.

      Lips pressed, Constance crossed her arms and stared off at the neighbor’s pasture. When she was a kid, all the land for as far as she could see had belonged to her parents. But over the years, tough times had forced her to sell off more and more until now all that remained was the three-acre parcel the house and barn sat on.

      She’d been an only child. Her parents now lived in a Galveston, Texas, retirement home where she and Lindsay visited as often as they could. But with gas prices so steep, and her car hardly reliable, it’d been six months since they’d last made the trip.

      Taking a deep breath, she told her heart to resume its normally peaceful rate. Until she worked up the courage to tell Garret the truth about Lindsay’s parentage, her secret would be secure.

      But just to be on the safe side, while he and Lindsay rambled on about rabbits, Connie blurted, “We’re busy. Now, just isn’t a good time to…talk.”

      Meeting her challenging stare head-on, he said, “I need a few simple questions answered. Promise, it won’t take but a few minutes of your precious time.”

      “Wanna see my rabbit house?” Lindsay asked.

      “No,” Constance said for him. “Mr. Underwood’s busy, too.”

      “Ouch.” Apparently unfazed by her cool demeanor, he shot her a slow, sexy grin, then surveyed the front porch so different from his mother’s. While they’d both grown up in the quintessential white farmhouse, his mother’s had fared better. Constance’s home was more brown-speckled than white, seeing how more bare wood showed than paint. Flower boxes under the windows used to hold cheery geraniums, but now all they held was cracked dirt.

      Weeds choked the once-thriving flower gardens on either side of the winding fieldstone walk. On her own, always working or helping Lindsay with her studies, Constance barely had time to keep the veggie garden going; no way did she have the luxury of planting and constantly watering flowers.

      “Looks like this place could use some TLC,” Garret said. The place looked as if it hadn’t СКАЧАТЬ