Back in the Soldier's Bed

His voice was nail-hard as it bit back. “We can do this here, with all these people around, or we can go somewhere more private, but Shannyn—we’re talking now.”

Carrie stood behind her, and Melanie picked up the phone that jangled in the stillness, shattering Shannyn’s nerves. There was no way on earth she and Jonas could talk here. And by the way his lips were thinned, she knew prevaricating further would be a mistake. Plain, unvarnished truth would be the only way to explain. They had to get out of here, somewhere neutral. She looked into his face, all hard angles and unrelenting anger. He was furious, and she knew she didn’t want to be completely alone for this conversation. She needed the protection of somewhere public if she were going to make him listen to her.

“I’m taking the rest of the afternoon off,” she said to Carrie in an undertone. “If you need anything over the weekend, e-mail me.”

“You go,” Carrie murmured back

. “And call if you need anything. I mean it, Shan. Anything.” She looked over her glasses meaningfully at Shannyn.

Shannyn grabbed her purse and nodded at Jonas. “I’m taking the rest of the afternoon off.”

He followed her out the door.

They stepped out in the June sun and Shannyn squinted against the glare. She’d left her sunglasses on her desk, and she could really use them now, both to cover her eyes and to put some distance between her and Jonas. Hostility was fairly emanating from him, and she had no idea how to defuse the situation so they could actually have a conversation. One where he might understand why she’d done what she had.

When they reached the sidewalk, he grabbed her arm none too gently and guided her across the street, past the old barracks and down to the Green.

Shannyn shook his hand off when they reached the grassy expanse, taking a few steps away from him. He hadn’t hurt her. But her hopes at an amicable conversation had evaporated when the firm grip of his fingers dug into her skin. Even though he wasn’t holding her arm anymore, she felt his animosity. His jaw was clenched tightly, and he walked—no, marched—across the grass, assuming she’d keep up with him.

He was angry and had every right to be. Right now, she had to pick her battles. How she dealt with him now would affect everything that happened from this moment on.

He stopped beneath an elm, shoved his hands into his pockets, and stared out over the glittering water of the river. Shannyn held her breath, waiting for the explosion, not knowing what to say, wondering what his first words would be. She was forever grateful that they were in a public place. It would preclude a shouting match and perhaps the presence of others would make him more willing to listen. If she were lucky.

But the words wouldn’t come. When she remained silent, he spoke. Not with anger, not with a shout. With a quiet certainty.

“She’s mine.”

Shannyn nodded, surprised at the sting of tears that filled her eyes at the simple statement, the moment of truth. This was the father of her baby. A man she’d once loved. A man who was all but a stranger now. She tried to focus on the sailboat gliding down the river, but the image blurred.

“What’s her name?”

“Emma.”

She made herself turn and look at him, face this conversation head on. The time of evading was done. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. But he wouldn’t look at her. His face remained stoic, expressionless.

“Emma is my grandmother’s name.”

“I know.”

“Why did you do that?”

Finally he turned his head from the river. His eyes glowed like polished jade in the shade of the elm.

How could she explain without it seeming more than it was? The truth was she knew how much the army meant to him. His grandfather had fought in World War Two and died. If Emma had been a boy, Shannyn had been going to name him after Jonas’s grandfather Charles. Paying tribute to the wife Charles left behind seemed the next best thing. At the time it had been the one and only way she planned on connecting her child to her father. Making sure a little bit of Jonas lived on in his daughter. Perhaps she had also done it to assuage what guilt she had at her silence.

“I know how much you love your Gram.” She went with the simple explanation.

“Loved. She died two years ago.”

The lump in Shannyn’s throat grew, making it raw to swallow. So many changes, for everyone. Time didn’t stand still. “I’m sorry.”

Jonas walked away, finding a nearby bench under the elm and bracing his elbows on his knees.

She gave him a few minutes, taking the time to calm herself so she could control the conversation. If that were possible.

She’d done what she thought was best. She also knew Jonas wouldn’t see it that way. She’d wanted to protect Emma. Emma deserved more than a part-time father. More than a dad who would only be around when it worked out with his schedule. She didn’t need a dad out of obligation. They’d been dating when Emma was conceived. She’d known the moment he’d said he was shipping out that he wasn’t interested in a lasting relationship. If he had been, he would have asked her to wait, or asked her to come with him. When she’d discovered she was pregnant two weeks after he was gone, she knew she couldn’t tell him. He’d already qualified as a sniper. He’d be in danger every day.

Jonas hadn’t wanted more with her, and she hadn’t wanted a man who stayed only because he’d been trapped into a role he didn’t expect. She’d been a product of that sort of relationship and had seen the devastating consequences of pretending. She’d known in her heart that eventually it would have crumbled, and Emma would pay the biggest price. Shannyn had vowed then and there to never put her daughter through that sort of pain.