The SEAL’s Surprise Baby by Leslie North

8

The following morning, Anderson followed the scent of freshly brewed coffee to the kitchen. Violet sat at the table with Nate in her lap. She had one arm around the baby and was bouncing her leg to keep him occupied while she scanned the laptop screen.

“There’s fruit salad in the fridge,” she said, looking up with a smile, “and yogurt.”

“You’ve been up for a while,” he commented as he poured a cup of coffee and topped off her mug. He’d cleaned the kitchen the evening before, after their kiss. He’d needed something to do, because it was best if he didn’t think too much about that kiss. He’d never known that a kiss could be both passionate and gentle. It had been startling in an entirely good way, but the new territory made him uncomfortable. Overnight, he’d spent plenty of time staring at the ceiling of the small bedroom he’d set up for himself. In the light of day, he had to put their shared dinner and kiss out of his mind—or playing house with Violet would become even more difficult than it already was.

“This guy,” she said, tweaking Nate’s foot, “decided that four a.m. was morning.”

“Sorry about that,” Anderson muttered, feeling responsible for his son’s actions. “You could have woken me.”

She gave a one-shoulder shrug. “I’m used to it, and it gave me a chance to start working my way through this data.” An encrypted hard drive had arrived by courier late the evening before. The drive was now connected to the laptop, and Violet kept switching between tabs as she studied the material.

“Figure anything out?” he asked.

“Not yet. It’s going to take time. Rogers gathered a lot of intel on short notice.”

“He’s good at that. Do you want me to take Nate?” He’d committed to doing what he could to help her and get them both out of this situation as quickly as possible. Then he could figure out his relationship to her and Nate. The panic about his role as a father hadn’t relented. Despite that, though, he felt an unexpected willingness to assist with Nate.

Violet dropped a kiss on the baby’s head. “I’ve got him. Get some breakfast, and then I think he’ll be ready for a morning nap.”

Anderson put together a plate of fruit, granola, and yogurt and ate while Violet worked. He didn’t interrupt her, knowing that she worked best in silence. He’d gotten accustomed to her habits during their assignment in Moscow. If he talked or even ate too loudly, she’d scowl at him. He’d seen that expression plenty during those weeks… but she’d softened some, it seemed.

Motherhood? Maybe, he decided, as she continued to keep Nate happy by tickling his stomach or making soft soothing sounds when he got restless.

She had this under control, and there was nothing he hated more than feeling useless. Neither she nor Nate seemed to need him, and it might be hours before she was ready to share her projections with him. He needed a task to occupy his time. He glanced out the kitchen window into the backyard. An overgrown hedge caught his attention. It could do with a pruning; small branches stuck out of it at odd angles. He recalled seeing some garden tools in the shed. A service hired by Rogers’s firm mowed the lawn, but there was still work Anderson could do outside.

“I’m going to go work in the yard,” he said, rising from his seat.

“Huh? Sure.” Violet’s eyes barely focused on him.

“Yell if you need me or figure out something interesting.” With one last glance at her, he went through the door and made his way to the tool shed. Working in the yard would be perfect. He’d be too impatient if he stayed in the house, and it was good for their cover.

He'd noticed on his trips through the neighborhood that the lawns were carefully maintained. The men of the households seemed to hold dominion, spending time trimming and mowing after work. He looked through the tools, able to identify most of them. Even though he’d owned a house in Hartsville for the past year, he’d been gone on missions nearly the entire time, so he’d hired a service to maintain the lawn.

He’d always wanted to do it himself, though. That had been his plan when he purchased the house. Growing up, he’d had no one to show him how to do any of this—nor a yard to do it in—but he’d had an interest, which had been stoked by watching YouTube videos and HGTV. Here was his opportunity, he decided, as he grabbed pruners and walked to the hedge that divided the safe house’s yard from the one next door.

The sun rose higher in the sky and the day got warmer while Anderson worked, but he didn’t mind. Getting the hedge under control led to other tasks. After lunch, he cleared out what must have been a vegetable garden at one point, pulled weeds, and edged the front sidewalk.

Late in the afternoon, he was surveying the low-hanging branch of an oak tree when a man came from the neighboring house and walked toward him. Anderson’s guard went up automatically, but it seemed unlikely an enemy had infiltrated the neighborhood enough to be in residence. While staying alert, he returned the guy’s affable smile.

“Hi, I’m Jeff Yates,” the man, still dressed in a suit and tie from work, said with an outstretched hand.

“Anderson Lee. Nice to meet you.” He returned the handshake.

“Everyone around here’s glad this house is finally occupied. You renting it?”

Anderson hadn’t thought that part through, but it made sense for his and Violet’s cover. “That’s right.”

“I thought as much, since it never went on the market.” Jeff surveyed the front yard. “You’ve done a lot today.”

“Yeah, I had some free time. Is this tree on your side of the property line or mine?” Anderson indicated the oak.

“Technically yours,” Jeff said. “It could do with a trim.”

“That’s what I was thinking.” The oak’s branches scraped against both houses. The sound had woken Anderson during their first night there, and he’d prowled around the exterior until he located the problem.

“I’ll give you a hand if you like,” Jeff offered. “It won’t take long with the two of us.”

Anderson hesitated only a second. Accepting help wasn’t easy for him, but this seemed like a good opportunity to learn more about the neighborhood, which might come in handy. “That’d be great.”

“Let me change and grab my saw,” Jeff said as he headed for his garage.

Working together, Anderson and Jeff trimmed the tree while Jeff chatted about the other people who lived on the block and the get-togethers they sometimes had. It was all foreign to Anderson, who’d never had that sense of community in the civilian world. His past had taught him to distrust others, especially when they seemed overly nice, but he didn’t get any negative vibes from Jeff.

“Hello, Mr. Conklin,” Jeff said to an elderly man with a wide-brimmed straw hat who came down the sidewalk, then he introduced Anderson.

“I saw you turning over the dirt in the vegetable patch,” the newcomer said, “and thought you might need some seeds.” Mr. Conklin thrust a handful of seed packets into Anderson’s hand. “Remember to give them a light watering after you’ve planted. Bye.”

Anderson was staring after the man when Jeff chuckled. “I wasn’t used to people being so friendly when I moved here either. I grew up in a place where making eye contact was unwise, but it’s different here in the burbs.”

“So it seems,” Anderson agreed.

“You get used to it,” Jeff said, but Anderson knew he wouldn’t be around long enough for that to happen. He and Violet would move on as soon as the threat was neutralized—or the safe house became compromised.

“Yeah. I guess I will. Thanks for your help.” Anderson held up the seeds. “I better get these in the ground.”

“See you later.”

After Jeff left, Anderson returned to the backyard and began establishing rows for the different seeds. Lettuce, carrots, green beans. It didn’t matter that he wouldn’t be here to eat any of it. The act of planting a garden made him feel connected to someplace. Not a sensation he was used to, but he liked it.

As he finished planting a row of beans, he heard the back door slam. Violet was making her way toward him with Nate on her hip and a grim expression on her face. He tensed. Something was wrong.

“What is it?” he asked.

She blew out a sigh and put Nate down on the grass at her feet before answering. “Based on what I’m seeing, our predicament is worse than I thought. I have the satisfaction of being right about one thing, though.”

“What’s that?” He took a quick glance around to make sure no one could hear them.

“We’re both being targeted. It was no coincidence that the attack came when we were together. The real problem is that the tear in the agency’s security network is bigger than I would have imagined. The breach wasn’t a little data. It was a ton of classified, compromising intel.” She didn’t have to add that both of them were totally exposed. That was obvious. “I notified Rogers’s guys and asked them to track a few more leads for me. Other than that, I’m stuck.” She rubbed a hand over her face in frustration.

“What about notifying your bosses?” he suggested, although he didn’t like the idea much.

“That’s what I wanted to talk with you about,” she said. “I think it’s too much of a risk to reach out to them.”

“I agree.” The more people who knew where they were, the greater the danger. For himself he wouldn’t much care. If it were up to him, he’d taunt whoever this enemy was to bring the situation to a turning point—but he couldn’t do that with Violet and Nate depending on him to protect them. Running security for Violet in Moscow had been a challenge, partly because of the chemistry between them. Adding Nate to the mix, though, altered everything. “So we’ve done all we can for now.”

“You’re right,” she said, but the rigidness of her posture didn’t change. She needed something to get her mind off their problem.

“Do you want to help me plant the rest of these seeds?” He still had two packets left, and he held them up. “We’ve got pumpkins and sweet corn.”

“I’ve never grown either of those.” A little light returned to her eyes. “My mom and I always kept an herb garden when I was a kid. I plan to do the same with Nate. It’s important to understand where food comes from.”

Anderson had never thought of it that way, but it made sense. It helped to create the connection he’d felt when cutting back the tree with Jeff. If he got to a store, he’d pick up some seeds for herbs and maybe clear a patch just off the back deck where they’d be handy to pick and cook with. He glanced toward the house and mentally selected a spot. He was about to tell Violet about his plan when reality hit.

They wouldn’t be there to see any of these seeds be more than sprouts, because none of this was real. He didn’t have a real relationship with Violet or Nate. This wasn’t his house and garden. It was all fake, for the purpose of escaping a threat to their lives. Any good vibes, any sense of domesticity he’d been feeling washed out of him in an instant.

He looked down in time to see Nate pick up a fistful of dirt from the edge of the garden and smear it over his face.

“Stop!” Anderson yelled, making the baby look up and tears come to his eyes. “He ate dirt!”

Violet dropped to her knees alongside the child and took him onto her lap. “Uh-oh,” she said in a singsong voice, apparently unbothered. “No eating dirt, little man.”

“Should we call…” Anderson had no idea who to call. A doctor, the hospital, poison control?

“He’s fine,” she said and then chuckled.

What the hell was funny? Anderson knelt next to them and saw his son’s expression. Nate had opened his mouth wide, and his face was scrunched in displeasure.

“That doesn’t taste good, does it?” Violet swiped his mouth out with her finger and used the edge of her T-shirt to get some of the dirt off his face.

“Will he be okay?” Anderson’s heart rate was slowly coming down, but he still felt the need to take action.

“It’s just dirt,” she said before addressing the child. “My grandma always said, ‘God made dirt, and dirt don’t hurt’… except that it tastes icky.”

Nate gave her a smile, clearly over his upset, and basked in the attention Violet lavished on him. Anderson had never had that. Never had a mother who comforted him and knew what to do. His mother had viewed him as someone who could get her a beer from the fridge so she didn’t have to get up. Other than that, he was a hell of an inconvenience. She’d never bandaged a bloody knee or attended a school event.

How much easier it must be for a kid whose parent knew how to wash away real and metaphorical dirt. Anderson’s dirt had always been his own to deal with, which had forced him to toughen up young. He’d survived and done well for himself, but it wasn’t something he’d wish on others.

Nate was lucky to have Violet. Anderson felt warmth and calm grow inside him at her motherliness. Nate would always have someone he could depend on.

“I better give him a bath,” she said, rising with Nate in her arms.

“I’ll finish up here and be in to help you.” Anderson saw surprise cross her face. She hadn’t expected his offer of assistance.

“Okay,” she said, giving him a smile.

Anderson couldn’t stop himself from watching her walk to the house. She was an impressive woman in so many ways.