Ranger's Baby Surprise (Special Forces Elite 2)

“What nerves, boy?” She asked in her normal southern sassy tone. “You have been practically raised in this office.”

“I guess just the fact of coming back to real life,” I said softly.

I didn’t share my concerns or struggles with many. Mrs. Jennings made that short list.

“Honey,” she said reaching out and taking my hand. I loved the feel of her motherly touch. She may have been as dark skinned as I was light, but she was a mother to me through and through. “you are gonna to be just fine. Just keep breathing, and it will all come back to you.”

I gav

e her a soft smile and kissed the back of her hand. She giggled at my debonair action and waved me off.

“Go on now, you tease. Your father is already waiting for you in the back room.”

I gave her one last wink before slipping the hard candy into my mouth. I liked to have something to concentrate on, to take my mind off the ringing.

Sure enough, there was my father back in his office stacked high with files. He was the worst when it came to organization. It made me cringe a little. Step one would be computerizing everything and lighting every single one of these stacks on fire.

“Oh there you are,” he said not looking up from his work.

I noticed that his hand shook a little as he wrote. It was a hereditary tremor he was born with, but it had gotten significantly worse as he aged. Between that and the fact that I was beginning to see early signs of dementia, it was time for him to take a break from work.

“Mrs. Prescott is already here,” he said handing me over the file. “I thought she would be a nice first patient for you.”

I opened the folder and skipped through the content. I knew the name well. She was my first-grade teacher in fact. In this small town, I didn’t think there were very many people I didn’t know.

Aside from the usual people in town we also got the occasional college student from the state university twenty minutes away. I smiled to myself a bit as I thought about that. After six years in the navy, I had more experience with drunken kids than old ladies struggling with arthritis.

Father and I didn’t really speak much. It wasn’t something new, its how it always was between us. Mom was the one which I opened up to, and then Mrs. J after her. So with the file in hand, I merely nodded and left the room.

"Good morning Mrs. Prescott. How are you doing today?” I said as I entered room number one.

“Hawk? Is that you? Your father told me you were back in town. Look at you all grown up,” she said with surprise in her gentle brown eyes.

“Yep, just got back about a month ago,” I said sitting down to take her blood pressure.

“And you are taking over your father’s practice now?” She asked conversationally.

“Yeah, figured the old man could use a break,” I said as I got out my stethoscope and listened to her heart.

“That’s a good boy. I always knew you were going to make something of yourself. Look at you now all grown up and a doctor.”

“What gave it away? The way I ate my glue in the first grade?” I said full of sarcasm.

“No you generally did that about the same way as all the other kids,” she retorted with more smile wrinkles on her face then I remember. “It was the way you were always willing to help others. You had such a caring heart.”

I gave a lop-sided smile at her words.

The day continued on much as the first appointment. A lot of people with minimal issues, as I expected, and all wanting to take a trip down memory lane with me. It was busy at least, being a Friday, and I was thankful for that.

By midmorning I was really getting into my groove of things, and it was looking hopeful that I could at least make my work life function smoothly. Working hard and efficiently was something I was trained well to do.

Dad and I for the most part just rotated every other patient that came into the office. It was a nice rhythm and seeing him at work gave me confidence that he wasn’t as deteriorated as I worried he was.

“Hawk,” he said handing me over a file, “you take this one. I am going to take lunch now.”

I looked down at the file. It was a little girl named Emma Jones. I scanned over it quickly. She wasn’t more than five, and it looked like she had been seen here her whole life. Dad was even the one to deliver her.

I couldn’t help but get a ping at the last name. It brought back a flood of memories of a life I had before the SEALs. It was a common enough name, however, and the likelihood of it meaning anything was minimal.