A Soldier's Honour

Chapter 3

Bethany stared at the incoming messages and a couple of selfies of Caleb and Matt. Her son was apparently having lunch with General Knudson and his staff in the Pentagon. The boy landed on his feet, every time. Not unlike his father.

As a mom, it seemed as though Caleb’s day was looking more like a reward than a disciplinary action for a kid who should have been in school. And as a mom, she knew her son was having the time of his life. With his father.

She wanted to be angry and stay angry, but she just couldn’t hang on to it for long. Oh, she was aggravated about Caleb’s unauthorized jaunt to DC—and he would pay a price for that—but her heart turned gooey when she saw the father and son together. Their faces were so similar, especially with the matching dimples when they smiled.

Her world had turned inside out in a matter of hours. The idea of the two of them together gave her warm fuzzies, chased by chills she kept bringing on herself. Guilt and regret were her new best friends throughout the rest of the day. Her mind kept traipsing back through all the milestones Matt should have been part of.

Through the years, she’d discarded several opportunities to invite Matt into their lives, all in the name of giving Caleb stability. It had paid off, she thought. He had friends he’d known from kindergarten, a soccer team he traveled with, a normal, healthy childhood without the angst of moving every few years. Yes, she’d given her son so much stability, he thought it would be fine to take a train and track down his dad on his own.

In all fairness, Matt had never complained about the moves or changing schools growing up. Then again, he’d been raised in a prominent Army family and had likely been dialed in about West Point from the womb. Once, she too had planned on a Military career, maybe a husband and possibly, floating in that misty realm of far-off theories, a child someday.

Someday. Not at twenty. Not before she’d tested herself and traveled and become part of something astounding and important. Instead she found herself pregnant and bewildered. Matt had been almost thrilled, while she’d been fighting through sheer terror. Becoming a single mother had never crossed her mind.

He’d proposed, though they couldn’t marry while either of them were still cadets at the academy. As much as she loved him, she’d known she couldn’t marry him at all. She had to make her own way—for herself, as well as for her child. Following Matt through a career destined for greatness, always waiting at home for news, just felt too passive. She feared he would eventually feel trapped, or she would. And she didn’t want either of them to come to a point of resenting the other. That would have been a sorry end to what had started as a good friendship.

Hard as it had been, she’d walked away from Matt, away from her dreams, and into the role of motherhood and new challenges. With Caleb, she’d discovered every day could be astounding in tiny, personal, but no less important ways.

She was straightening her desk when the text message came through that they were leaving the city. Caleb’s giddy reaction to Matt’s classic muscle car came through loud and clear, along with half a dozen pictures of a gorgeous Chevy Camaro. It was a restored 1967 classic, according to the messages.

Great. As if she needed the man to be any more tempting to either her or her son. Their son. She had to start getting that verbiage right.

On her way home, she stopped at the grocery store for the final items to round out dinner. The big news they’d planned to share was out of the bag, but that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be difficult questions that may or may not have answers. Whatever Matt had already told Caleb, it seemed to have planted him firmly in the idol column.

With that thought, she turned down the aisle and added an extra bottle of wine to her cart. She’d open it later tonight to unwind after Caleb was in bed and Matt was out the door. There were yesterday’s cookies ready for dessert, but she added some ice cream to the cart anyway. She could surprise them both with ice-cream sandwiches.

It was bribery, plain and simple, and she was glad she’d thought of it.

When she reached the checkout lane, her cart loaded with too many extras, it looked as if she was hosting a party for a dozen people. Just covering all the bases, she thought pragmatically. She wasn’t planning on feeding her nerves at all.

This was their first dinner as a family, and it should be memorable for more than just the bombshell that they were a family. Would Matt wait until they were alone to say I told you so? Were he and Caleb already discussing how this situation was all her fault? She could hardly blame her son for reaching that conclusion without any help from Matt.

At home, in her kitchen, with the chicken and vegetables roasting in the oven, she poured a sparkling water instead of the wine she wanted and started on the ice cream sandwiches. Did Caleb hate her now that he knew she’d kept his father from him all this time? He surely felt betrayed, a fact which would make any further lessons on honesty and integrity harder for her to sell.

And she still hadn’t heard how he’d found out anything about Matt in the first place. Her queries via text message had been brushed aside with Matt’s reply that he’d explain it all in person. Oh, that didn’t make her nervous at all.

With dessert individually wrapped and back in the freezer, she stirred up dip for an appetizer tray and set it to chill. Caleb would want something to graze on as soon as he arrived and she assumed Matt would, too. She arranged slices of cheese and cut veggies on a platter and put it back into the refrigerator. When they pulled up, she’d set everything out and add crackers.

With that done, she walked through the dining room and family room, looking for anything out of place. Although she knew she was overthinking it, she couldn’t stop. She didn’t want Matt to find any reason to criticize the house or her parenting. The house was clean and tidy, thanks to a chore list, ingrained habits and some creative nagging. At last, she turned toward the bedrooms, forcing herself to make sure the guest room was ready if Matt insisted on staying here.

Would he insist? She supposed he’d have to since she had no intention of inviting him to stay over.

She felt heat rising in her face at the idea of Matt sleeping under her roof, just down the hall from her bedroom. It had been years since she’d seen him in person and yet he was still the man she wanted most, the man she held up against all others. And he continued to star in her most erotic dreams. At least that was a secret she could take to her grave, privileged information that never had to be listed anywhere.

The sound of a burly engine in the street drew her toward the big front window in the dining room. A quick chill of uncertainty slid down her spine when the glossy black Camaro with silver rally stripes pulled into her driveway. She was startled to find herself blinking back tears as she watched father and son emerge from the car. Happy tears, she told herself. This would be a happy occasion.

Caleb, the backpack on his shoulder, was practically dragging Matt to the front door. Side by side, the resemblance was uncanny, all the way down to their stride. Caleb was lanky, more elbows and knees right now, but already she could see him growing into the charming version of Matt she’d met at West Point.

The years had been good to him. He looked as fit as ever in an untucked soft gray button-down shirt, dark khaki slacks and brown leather boat shoes, with a light jacket in his hand. No wonder she’d been unable to make room for another man in her life. No one else was Matt. The man she’d always loved. The man she still loved.

Foolish, she scolded, schooling her expression into something she hoped came across as stern. Her feelings for Matt were impossible and could wait to be examined over that bottle of wine. Caleb was her priority and he needed to know that, happy endings aside, his actions today were absolutely unacceptable.

Hearing another car on the street, she saw Matt turn his head. Following his gaze, she didn’t recognize the slow-moving car. The window behind the driver rolled down and the unmistakable barrel of a gun appeared in front of a shadowy figure in the back seat.

A scream lodged in her throat, she raced toward the front door. She heard Matt shout, prodding Caleb into a run as the rapid popping sounds of gunfire chased them. The door opened and Caleb tumbled inside, onto the slate foyer, with Matt practically on top of him. The stained-glass window at the top of her oak front door dissolved in a shower of colorful, glittering splinters.

“Get down!” Matt shouted. He slammed what remained of the door closed with his foot. “Move, move.” He urged them back, deeper into the house, closer to the protection of the dining room.

“Caleb!” Bethany dropped to the floor, checking him for injuries. “Are you hit?” What on earth was going on? This wasn’t a drive-by shooting sort of neighborhood. “Talk to me.”

“I’m fine,” he promised.

The coppery tang of blood stung her nose and her hand came away sticky and smeared with blood. “You’ve been shot,” she insisted. “Where?” She reached for his clothing, searching for the wound.

Vaguely, as if she’d been packed in cotton, she heard Matt calling 911, relaying her address and the incident, including details of the car.

“Not me, Mom,” he insisted. “It’s Matt.” Caleb squirmed out of her reach, heedless of the glass scattered across the floor. “Gotta be.”

No. The world couldn’t be so cruel as to give her son his father and take him away again in the same day. She ignored the slivers of glass biting into her hands and knees as she followed. Matt had pulled himself to a seated position against the wall across from the door.

“How bad?” she asked, lifting away the jacket he’d pressed to his side.

“Grazed.” He sucked in a breath as she looked for herself. “Burns a little, that’s all.”

He wasn’t simply being stoic. High on his left side, his shirt was torn, the fabric scorched by the bullet and stained with his blood. “Not too bad,” she agreed. “Caleb, go get the first-aid kit.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Stay away from windows,” Matt called after him.

“You think they’ll come back around?”

He shrugged, winced. “Better to be safe...” His voice trailed off as his gaze locked with hers.

She didn’t need him to finish the familiar idiom. Silently, she vowed that whoever had fired a gun at their son would be the only party feeling sorry about this particular incident.

Caleb returned and knelt beside them, the first-aid kit in hand, along with clean dish towels. “Need a bowl of water?”

“That would help,” she said.

He nodded and scrambled off again.

“He’s great,” Matt said as she unbuttoned his shirt so she could get to the wound. “Amazing.” He reached out and stilled her hands. “You’re an incredible mom. It shows in him.” His golden-brown eyes glowed with gratitude and something more she didn’t want to consider just now.

“Thank you,” she murmured. It was hard to look at him when he stared at her that way, with something that went deeper than simple affection, compassion or pride. How could fifteen years have passed and yet that look still held such sway over her heart and her emotions?

She should say something more, but the apologies she owed him got tangled between her mind and her mouth and once more went unspoken.

“You look great,” he said.

She couldn’t handle more compliments right now. “You must have hit your head.” Flustered, she returned her attention to the wound.

Caleb rushed back, water sloshing over the sides of the bowl he carried. She didn’t care. Floors dried and she was far too grateful for the distraction. Carefully, she cut away his undershirt and he leaned back, bracing on his opposite arm to give her better access.

Her first impression of him outside held true. He was still in prime shape, his muscles heavier and his build a bit wider now than he’d been at twenty. An overall maturity, she reminded herself.

She washed the wound and Caleb handed her folded gauze pads that she pressed close to stem the bleeding. “Not sure stitches will help,” she said.

“They won’t,” he agreed, straining for a look. “Just tape it up.”

“Police are here.” Caleb tipped his head toward the dining room, where red and blue lights gave the room a strange strobe-light effect.

As he spoke, someone knocked on the busted front door. “Police department,” a man’s voice declared.

Caleb jumped up to answer, but Matt grabbed his arm, held him back. “Let me.”

With one hand holding the in-progress bandage to his ribs, he muttered a low curse as Bethany helped him stand up.

Another hard knock rattled the door in its frame. “Police!”

“Yeah, just a second,” Matt replied. “Go on back to the—”

“It’s my house,” Bethany interrupted. There was chivalry and then there was stupidity. He was hurt, not badly, but enough that it mattered. She angled in front of him.

“Beth,” he warned.

He’d been the only person in her life to call her that. And he hadn’t spoken the nickname that way since she refused his first proposal of marriage. Oh, how she missed this man.

“My house,” she repeated and opened the door to a uniformed officer, who was ready to pound on the barrier once more.

“Ma’am,” he said at once. “Officer Baker, Cherry Hill Police Department. Are you safe?”

“Yes, we are now. A car drove past and someone fired a gun at my son and his father.”

The officer was looking at the damaged door, the scattered bits of colored glass behind them. “Are you injured?” He dipped his chin toward her, the bloodstains on her hands and clothing. “An ambulance is on the way.”

“My son and I are fine. Nothing more than a few scrapes and splinters. This is from Caleb’s father. He was grazed by a bullet.”

“May I come in?”

She opened the door enough for him to see the full extent of the damage. He motioned for his partner to join him. Convinced he wasn’t a threat, she made a note of the names and badge numbers anyway, inviting him and his partner into the dining room. It was the closest seating option and, on some wobbly emotional level, it helped her to keep this chaos from spilling into the parts of the house she and Caleb enjoyed most.

She pulled the curtains closed over the window, her only capitulation to the fear rattling through her. The shooter was gone and the danger had passed, but the chills were just starting. As the three of them gave their statements, she didn’t hold out much hope that the driver and the gun-wielding passenger would be found.

All of them remembered the car as a dark, four-door sedan. Matt gave them the probable make, though none of them had caught even a glimpse of the license plate.

No, her security system didn’t have a camera facing the street. No, Caleb didn’t have friends with guns or friends in gangs. No, she hadn’t seen the car before. No one new had moved in recently. No, no, no. The questions only underscored the pervasive sense of helplessness in the air.

At the buzzing of the oven timer, she seized the opportunity and dashed away to take the Greek chicken out of the oven. Matt’s voice drifted after her as he answered more questions.

His voice had changed as well, deep and mellow. That solid, sturdy sound had always made her want to lean in close and accept the support he offered. One more reason she’d kept her distance since Caleb’s birth. Better to avoid temptation than risk her willpower snapping like a weak thread.

She’d always been weak where Matt was concerned.

“Mom?” Caleb wandered into the kitchen. “You okay?”

“Sure.” She smiled at him. “Just debating how best to keep this hot.” She covered the baking dish with two layers of aluminum foil and set it at the back of the stove top.

“Matt gave me the get-lost look,” Caleb whispered. “He wants us to stay in here.”