The SEAL’s Surprise Baby by Leslie North

7

Anderson settled onto the couch next to Violet and waited for the video image to come up on the laptop. They were going to talk to Rogers and begin the process of sorting out their situation. Nate reached out to grab Anderson’s arm, leaving a trail of water on his skin. The boy sat on Violet’s lap, drooling and chewing on a plastic ring.

“He’s teething,” Violet explained, using a washcloth to wipe the drips from Nate’s chin.

“So that makes him a leaky faucet.” Anderson was adjusting to being around a baby, but it was new territory. The day before, he had nervously watched over a napping Nate while Violet ran to a store to purchase groceries and baby supplies. She’d returned with countless bags of stuff that she’d stowed away in the safe house’s closets and cabinets. Violet was organized, which he appreciated.

“According to the books and my mom, yes,” she said. “We can expect this to continue for a while.”

“Great,” Anderson muttered, and she bumped her knee against his.

“It’s what babies do.” She gave him a pointed look.

“If you say so,” he said as Rogers appeared on the screen. It had been five years since he’d seen Lt. Commander Dan Rogers, but he hadn’t changed. His hair was a bit grayer, but his eyes were still the piercing blue Anderson remembered from his early days as a SEAL. He’d been assigned to Rogers’s team, and the older man had put him through his paces. Even now, he felt the urge to stand and salute.

“Good to see you, Anderson,” Rogers began.

“Thank you, sir. Good to see you as well. I appreciate your help.”

“I never turn down a fellow SEAL in need.” Rogers shifted his attention to Violet. “This must be Violet DiPaula.”

“Commander Rogers. It’s nice to meet you,” Violet said, giving his former CO a smile. “Thank you for finding us a place to stay.”

“Not a problem,” Rogers replied. “I’ve read the report my associate put together, but suppose you tell me everything, from your time together in Russia to now.”

Over the next thirty minutes, Anderson and Violet took turns explaining their mission, the security breach at Violet’s agency, the threats against her, and the attack that made them go on the run. Rogers nodded and asked pertinent questions several times.

“That jibes with everything I could learn,” Rogers said when they finished. “My concern is that the breach wasn’t fully plugged, which may have been intentional.”

“What?” Anderson said, shooting Violet a look. She seemed unsurprised by this bit of information. An intentional security leak? What kind of fool would allow that?

She shrugged. “It happens in intelligence work. Sometimes we leave an avenue open to see where it leads.”

“As far as I can tell, that’s what’s happened,” Rogers confirmed. “Which means neither of you can log into any systems you may have access to. Everything you do there might be traced and lead the bad guys directly to you.”

“That’s what I expected.” Violet shifted Nate on her lap, deftly trading the ring for another toy.

“So you’ve got to sit tight for now and let us work. As soon as I have something to share, I’ll get it to you in either encrypted files or some kind of drop. Whichever seems safest.”

“I appreciate that, sir,” Anderson said.

“I’ll be in contact.” Rogers signed off the call, and the room was silent for a moment.

“There’s really nothing we can do?” Anderson asked. He hated sitting around and waiting for something to happen. He was much more the type to go make it happen, to force a situation along. And, frankly, he was bored. In the two days they’d been in the safe house, he’d learned every inch of the structure and yard, including anything he perceived as a weak spot in the home’s defense. He’d adjusted camera angles on the security system and run diagnostics. He’d been hoping the meeting with Rogers would give him a direction to follow.

“Not nothing,” Violet said, rising to her feet with the baby in her arms. “We need to make dinner, and I’ll cut you a deal. I’ll cook if you entertain this guy.” She tapped Nate on the nose, making him giggle.

Anderson hesitated. Over the past two days, he’d learned that babies ran on a type of cycle. The sequence varied some, but it included five basic elements: eat, poop, play, cry, nap. Crying had been at a minimum since they’d arrived, thankfully, but the other four behaviors drove the day’s schedule. Anderson had gotten more comfortable with caring for Nate, even managing to change a poopy diaper while Violet was in the shower. He’d viewed it as a task that had to be completed, which would have been great if Nate hadn’t viewed his time on the changing pad as an opportunity to thrash his legs and squirm. Even with that, Anderson had accomplished the task without incident. It was a positive, a win.

“You can do this,” Violet said. “I’ll be one room away. If you like, we can set up a code word you can yell if you need help.” He didn’t remember her teasing him this way when they’d worked together in Moscow. That had been all business and tension. Having a kid with someone sure did change the dynamics.

“What are you thinking for dinner?” he asked.

“Chicken Florentine over wild rice. I might even whip up a dessert.”

“Here.” Anderson reached for his son. “I’ll take him.” His mouth was already watering at the thought of the meal. He could manage solo care of Nate with good food as a reward.

Violet kissed Nate’s forehead and set him on Anderson’s lap before heading to the kitchen.

“Just us, kid. You’ve got to promise to be good,” Anderson said.

Nate gave him a gummy grin and babbled incoherently. At least he didn’t cry when his mother walked away. That was a plus. Anderson transferred the baby to the blanket spread on the living room floor, using a special pillow to prop him up. Violet had a name for the doughnut-shaped pillow, but he couldn’t remember what it was.

Anderson pulled the basket of toys closer and found a ball. He handed it to Nate, who rubbed the ball over his face before tossing it aside. Anderson retrieved the ball and returned it to Nate, who repeated his action.

“Okay, not a ball day. Let’s try something else.” Anderson dug three cups that nested inside each other from the basket. “Check these out, buddy.” He showed the baby how the cups could go together or separate and gave Nate two of them to play with. Nate banged them against each other, and Anderson winced at the noise. “Not their intended use.”

When Anderson tried to take the cups from the boy’s hands, Nate’s lower lip stuck out, a look Anderson already recognized as the precursor to a crying fit. Anderson hastily released the cups. “God, I wish you could talk,” he said. “That would make this easier.” Nate clanked the cups together again and giggled.

“Yeah, that’s funny for you, but I’m lost.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Sh—oot, I speak seven languages, and I can’t communicate with my own kid.” Anderson eyed the boy. “Maybe there’s another way.” During some of his online research about babies over the past few days, Anderson had come upon an article about teaching sign language to kids. The article had been focused on toddlers, but it was worth a try. “Okay, stay with me.”

Anderson signed “hello” several times by moving his hand to his head in a salute-like gesture. Nate watched, rocking back and forth against his pillow, but made no attempt to imitate the motion. “Let’s try another one. How about “yes”?” Anderson closed his fist and tipped it forward and back, but to no avail. At least he was entertaining Nate, who was happily watching him. “I think you’re enjoying my parental struggles. I thought only teenagers did that.”

Anderson took a minute to reevaluate. “Maybe if I help you.” He took the baby’s hands in his and tried to move his fingers to create the words. “See, you have to bend all your fingers.” Anderson was careful to keep his touch gentle as he manipulated the boy’s hands. “Okay, that’s better.” He released Nate’s hands after getting his fingers in the correct position. “You try it.” Anderson leaned closer, hoping his teaching had taken root, but Nate just wiggled his hands in Anderson’s face and laughed. Anderson couldn’t help his smile. “Okay, I admit defeat. You’re too young.”

“Too young for what?” Violet asked from the doorway that led to the kitchen.

Anderson felt his face turn hot. He hadn’t expected an audience. “I was trying to teach him sign language. I thought it might bridge the communication gap, but it’s not working.” He pulled Nate into his lap and leaned back against the couch.

“He’ll get it eventually. You should keep trying.”

As she looked at him, the meaning of her words sank in for both of them. Anderson wasn’t going to be around “eventually.” If they weren’t in this situation, Anderson would have nothing to do with either of them.

“Maybe you could teach me,” she suggested, breaking the unspoken tension, “and I’ll share the knowledge with him when he’s older.” She plopped down opposite Anderson. “We’ve got a little time before dinner’s ready.”

“Are you sure?” Anderson asked.

“Of course. I’m always glad to learn another language. It’ll put me closer to catching up with you.” She smiled. Her language skills were equal to his, but it had been a point of competition between them. “I’ll just need one more after you teach me ASL.”

He gave a nod and went through basic greetings, teaching her how to introduce herself and ask someone else’s name. Nate grabbed playfully at Anderson’s moving hands before falling asleep against him.

A beeping from the kitchen interrupted them. “That’s the oven timer.” Violet rose gracefully from the floor. How’d she make that look so easy?

Anderson started to shift around. “I’ll help—”

“Please don’t,” she said in a low voice, stopping his movement. “He didn’t nap earlier, and he really needs this sleep. Let him stay with you, and I’ll bring you a plate. Beer?”

“That would be great.” He watched her leave the room, enjoying the slight sway of her hips and the way she flipped her hair back over her shoulders. Living with her, he was constantly reminded of the attraction that had brought them together in Moscow. She held an appeal for him that was different from his reaction to other women he’d been with, which he found confusing and irritating. He didn’t want a relationship with her or anyone else, but something about her tugged at him.

In a few minutes, she returned holding two plates, and a bottle of beer in the crook of one arm. He took the beer from her, but he couldn’t figure out how he’d manage a plate and fork, since Nate had one of his arms pinned.

“Maybe if you cut up my food, I can manage,” he said after taking a drink of the beer and setting it aside.

“I can feed you.” She sat facing him, close enough that their knees bumped.

“What?” His heart rate spiked. That would be way too intimate. “No, you don’t need to do that. I can eat later.”

“Don’t trust me?” She gave him a taunting smile. “I promise I won’t spill on you.”

“I wasn’t worried about that.”

“Then what were you worried about?” Her expression was all innocence. “I’ll be hurt if you don’t try this recipe. It’s a favorite of mine.”

“It smells good,” he admitted with a glance at the plate.

“Give it a try.” She lifted a forkful of chicken and rice to his mouth. “Open up.”

Like a child, he obeyed and let her feed him the delicious meal. She took her time, alternating forkfuls for him and for herself, allowing them both to savor the food. They didn’t talk much, not wanting to disturb the sleeping baby. When both plates were empty and he’d finished his beer, she came closer, her face only inches from his.

“You’ve got a little sauce…” She flicked her finger along his lower lip, and their eyes met. Hers glowed with an inner light that he could only interpret as desire. She stroked his cheek with a softness that surprised him. “Anderson?” The word held a thousand meanings, but only an action could be the response.

He caught her hand in his and kissed her fingertips, never breaking eye contact with her. He heard a slight hitch in her breathing and smiled at her. “Kiss me,” he said.

She raised an eyebrow, and he thought she might retreat, but she was too fearless for that. A second passed before she pressed her lips to his and her hands went around his neck. The kiss was slow and gentle, unlike the previous ones they’d shared. She sighed, just a whisper of sound, but it did things to him, and he wanted to wrap his arms around her and lower her to the floor.

But the baby… Nate stirred against him, making Anderson break the kiss. The boy stretched as he woke and focused on his mother. His chubby face crinkled into a smile.

“Hi, baby, did you have a good nap?” Violet’s voice was still throaty from the kiss. She rested one hand on Anderson’s shoulder and the other on the baby’s head.

It was a personal moment, a family moment. Anderson felt something like panic rise in his chest. He wasn’t cut out for this. “You take him,” Anderson said, thrusting Nate at Violet, “and I’ll do the dishes.”

He caught her expression. He expected to see hurt at his abrupt departure, but all he saw was pity. Somehow, that was a thousand times worse.