Harlequin Superromance November 2014 - Box Set 2 of 2: Christmas at the Cove\Navy Christmas\Until She Met Daniel (37 page)

“I make a point of going over every patient’s chart thoroughly. It makes diagnosis easier, and hopefully more accurate.” He raised her chin with his finger.

“I wasn’t prying, Serena. It was in the comments from his last yearly checkup—that he’d greatly improved since his week at BTS.”

Trust me.

He didn’t have to say it; it was in his expression, in the clear blue sincerity of his eyes.

“Oh.” Embarrassment reddened her cheeks. She prayed Jonas would chalk up her blush to the cold.

“You have the most beautiful eyes,” he said. “Pepé has them, too.”

Jonas’s tone was clinical in his appraisal but his eyes were lit with a warmth that had already started a fire in Serena’s belly.

When he bent toward her, she heard the inner voice that warned her to step back, to avoid any connection with this man. She heard it and ignored it as she closed her eyes. His breath was warm over her lips and she smelled mint, cinnamon and his scent—the scent she’d had difficulty getting out of her memory after their searing kiss at the Fords’ Christmas party.

“Ronald!” Pepé’s yell was followed by the vibration of Ronald’s four paws hitting the deck. He ran through the front door and launched himself into the yard, grateful for the chance to relieve himself after being home alone all afternoon.

Serena opened her eyes to find Jonas had dropped his hand from her face and turned to watch the antics of a boy and his dog.

When he faced her again, Jonas grinned.

“We’re not done here. Anticipation can be fun, though, can’t it?”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Camp O’Donnell,
Philippines
Early 1944

D
AYS
NO
LONGER
had meaning, but they were a means to an end for Henry. A way to get back to Sarah.

Tommy had been paroled to his Filipino family only three months after they’d arrived at Camp O’Donnell. Bill had died last year, in the middle of monsoon season. It wasn’t cold, but the constant dampness, be it from rain or sweat, had been the death of many of his fellow prisoners.

Henry wasn’t sure why he’d made it this far. It had to be because he was going to see Sarah again. Soon. He felt that he was going to be on the move again, and trusted his gut. He only prayed it was back to the States.

When the guards rounded them up and forced them to walk out of the camp together, Henry realized they were going to kill them. Why else allow them to leave their well-controlled prison?

The view of the ocean and the Japanese container ships gave him hope and dread in equally painful amounts. Not again. Odds were against him that he’d survive a second trip in one of the tin cans.

Where were the Allies?

By the end of the day he was in the bottom of one of the dreaded Japanese merchant cargo ships. He could hardly breathe and had to fight the anxiety and fear that threatened to close his throat or stop his heart. Until now he’d been able to look past the pain, to see that if he was still breathing it was a good day.

Not any longer. This was hell on earth, no matter that it was at sea.

He’d thought the acrid stench of human feces, sweat and fear after the march from Bataan was horrible. This was excruciatingly worse. Nearly every prisoner threw up the little they had in their stomachs as the lack of windows and fresh air mixed into the most potent cocktail for seasickness. Raw bile and sewage covered their bodies as they stood pressed against one another, holding each other up over the long tortuous ocean crossing.

Their captors had to be taking them to Japan. This was a good sign, he thought. The Allies must be moving in, coming back to the Philippines to save them all.

So of course the enemy soldiers were taking their labor force to safety.

Just kill us now.

It was getting harder to ignore the insistent possibility of freedom from the interminable suffering. Long hours passed when Henry could no longer conjure up Sarah’s or Dottie’s faces.

“God save us!” Jersey’s voice reached him in the darkness. “Henry?”

His friend’s call shook him from his purgatory.

“I’m here, Jersey.”

“We’re going to be dead, man. We’re not going to get out of here alive.”

Groans turned to grumbles as his fellow sufferers agreed.

Henry didn’t reply. Anger and complaining were signs of life. He worried about the men who weren’t making any noise. Worried about when he’d become one of the quiet ones. When he, too, would let his spirit go.

Sarah. He closed his eyes tight, trying to see her face, smell the scent of her skin. He couldn’t—as if his heart didn’t want to mark her with where he was, in this pit of hell.

And Dottie, his dear little girl. What kind of world had they borne her into, that allowed this?

September 1945
Japanese prison camp

I
T
TOOK
THE
prison guard three hits with the handle of his baton to Henry’s backside before Henry’s vision cleared and he remembered where he was.

The vision of climbing over Fort Casey with Sarah vanished. He cried out at the anguish of losing her, if only his memory of her.

Reality had become too hard.

The guard yelled at him and Henry didn’t try to make out the Japanese. He’d given up on that months ago. At first he’d taught himself the language, little by little, as he put together what the guards said to them.

He looked at where the guard pointed.

Buck lay on his side, his eyes unseeing. One of the last men he’d come to this hellhole with two years ago had died.

Lucky bastard.

No.

He owed it to Buck and every other G.I. who’d died in this labor camp to get back to Whidbey. To live the life he’d set out to have with Sarah a decade ago.

A world, a lifetime, away.

He wordlessly picked up the small spade the guard pointed at and carried it over to his colleague. His brother-in-arms. Jersey hobbled over with a woven bamboo tarp of sorts. Together they lifted Buck’s thin, lifeless form onto the makeshift litter, trying to keep as much dignity in what they did while the Japanese guard yelled at them and no doubt shouted obscenities at them the entire time.

They made a slow funereal walk to the outer parts of the camp, where their captors had forced them to bury one friend after another. No thinking was involved. If Henry stopped to think, he’d die. Thinking brought too much despair.

He dug the shallow grave. Shallow was all that was possible in the rocky soil with such a poor tool and his failing strength.

Would Sarah reject him when she saw him? Would Dottie run in fear?

No thinking.

Only surviving.

He focused on the spade, the pitiful amounts of dirt each motion moved.

He breathed.

* * *

“I
T
’
S
TOO
HARD
.” Jersey’s whispered observation reached Hank’s ears as the two lay side by side on the dirt floor that had been their sleeping area for the past year.

“No. Hang on. They’re getting more and more desperate. We have to be close.”

“Maybe.”

“Did you see the guard’s eyes today?”

“I try not to look at the bastards.”

“He’s afraid. They’re hungry, too. They’re losing. Our boys will be here any day now.”

“Do you really believe that, Henry?”

“I do.” He had to.

“You have a wife, a family. It helps.”

“You have your girl, Jersey.”

“We were engaged. I can’t expect her to still be waiting for me.”

“Why not? There aren’t any other men at home. Everyone’s off fighting.”

“Maybe. Maybe.”

They lay in the darkness, staring at the meager roof over their heads, shivering in the cold night.

When Henry first heard the rumble, he thought it might be one of the Japanese vehicles that carried the guards from point to point around the large compound. Or maybe Jersey was having a bad case of diarrhea.

But they hadn’t eaten in days and their bodies had nothing to eliminate.

Only after a boom shook the ground did Henry allow himself to start to believe.

“There’s our boys, Jersey.”

“Do you really think so?” Jersey’s normally gruff voice was faint, his eyes closed. Henry saw his expression with the light from the moon that spilled through the slivers of open roof.

“I know so, man. Stay here, Jersey. Don’t go. Hang in there.”

“My girl, she’s probably with another man by now. I don’t blame her.”

“You don’t know that. And so what if she is? You’ll find another girl.”

As Henry forced those words of comfort through his chapped lips, a sharp pang of compassion went through Henry. Sarah could have found someone else, too. Did she even think he was still alive?

He couldn’t begin to imagine his Sarah with another man. Another father for Dottie?

No.

He had to get out of this hell.

* * *

T
HE
NEXT
MORNING
Henry was awake before the guards came. He’d made a game of waking before they did. He hadn’t slept that well, thanks to the cold. No matter how many nights he got through, he didn’t take one for granted. And he’d never adjusted to the harsh temperature swings in this country. The summers were like Dante’s fires, especially since their captors didn’t see a need to provide them with regular water breaks. As a boy in Texas he’d thought he knew what it meant to be thirsty. He’d never felt real thirst before the Japanese had interned him.

Only winter brought relief, at first, from the unbearable heat. Until the thin uniforms they wore weren’t warm enough, and they were lucky to earn a paper blanket to try to conserve their body heat.

The cold did more damage to them than the heat. As if their bodies recognized the long, dark frigid days were going to be too much to bear they started to shut down, catching dysentery or other illnesses without any strength to fight them.

Henry looked over at Jersey, whose chest was still rising and falling. He’d made it another night, too.

“Hey, Henry!” Tom Osbourne, a Brit who’d been brought in as early as Henry almost three years ago, crouched next to the plank he and Jersey shared.

“Are you trying to piss them off and make them even madder, Tom?”

“They can get as mad as they want. The Americans are closing in. We’re going to be liberated.”

“How can you be so sure of that?”

“Bugsy climbed into the south guard tower last night. Says he saw our boys with their equipment on the way in.”

The guard who manned the south tower was known to enjoy his sake a bit more than he should. The past several months he’d taken to drinking until he passed out. The prisoners whispered among themselves, planning escape after escape, even though they all knew it was for naught.

“Don’t you want to wake up Jersey and tell him?”

“Naw, let him sleep while he can. He’s fighting it.”

“Fighting it” was code for fighting against the inevitable death that awaited all of them if the damn war didn’t end soon. As long as the Japanese continued to work them to death, there was no hope. Without a forced Allied liberation of the camp, they were dead. In the event of a Japanese surrender, Henry knew in his gut that their captors would conduct vengeful executions of all of them, anyway.

“Tell him to fight it for a few more days. They’re waiting to make their strike, I know it.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Henry went through the rest of the day fighting his own demons. Visions of Sarah and Dottie had started to appear to him when he was in the midst of breaking stones with the primitive tools they’d been given. He had to be alert to avoid the wrath of the guards, but he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering. His mind had grown muddled from years of hunger and thirst, years of not knowing which of his colleagues would be the next murdered. When was it going to be his turn?

But his wavering thoughts had never been this unpredictable. He kept Sarah and Dottie in a quiet, safe room in his heart and took them out only when the horror of his life was least likely to intrude upon them.

His growing mental weakness couldn’t be a good sign.

Was this the start of
his
giving up?

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Whidbey
Island
Two weeks before Christmas

“W
HEN
I
SUGGESTED
you be nicer to her I didn’t mean a full-on seduction. That’s not fair to you, her or her son. With your anti-marriage stance, it can only lead to disaster for both of you.”

Jonas listened to Doc Franklin berate him as he eyed Jonas over the mug of coffee he’d poured from the office pot. The doctor lifted the carafe toward him.

“Want a cup?”

“Sure.” Jonas grabbed a mug emblazoned with the NAS Whidbey insignia off the cart and held it out.

“I could get used to this, Doc. You make a good waitress.”

“Watch it.” Doc Franklin put the carafe back on its burner and sank into his executive office chair.

Jonas laughed as he lowered himself into one of two matching sling chairs across from Doc Franklin’s large oak desk.

“Back to you and Señora Delgado.”

“Yeah.” Jonas sipped the brew and grimaced at the spicy flavor. “What’s in this?”

“It’s called ‘Christmas Spirit.’ The new owner of the coffee stop near the gate is selling it. I like it—cloves, nutmeg, maybe some star anise.”

Jonas shook his head. “I never pegged you as a coffee connoisseur.”

“I have my nuances.”

Both men laughed.

“I’m not avoiding your question, Doc. There isn’t an answer—there’s nothing serious between me and Serena. I want my house back. You told me to play nice about it. That doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying to convince her that what’s best for her and Pepé is to get a newer place that won’t require as much upkeep. She’s a lawyer and once she gets busy with her career again she’ll figure it out.”

“Maybe I was wrong.” Doc Franklin had a smug gleam in his eyes that went perfectly with his smirk.

“About what?”

“Would it be so bad if things got interesting between you and Serena? Let’s say you’re perfect for each other. Why not check that avenue out? You might end up with the house, after all. Maybe that’s what your stepmother planned all along.”

Jonas gripped the mug as tight as he could without worrying about smashing it to bits in his hands.

“She has a son. He can’t be toyed with, Doc.”

“Who’s toying? If you’re willing to think about something more than a passing fling with his mother...”

Was he?

Jonas had enjoyed his bachelor freedom more than most. There had been a serious fling here or there, and of course his most recent un-relationship with Joy Alexander. Great lady, but not for him.

Lately the only woman he thought about was Serena.

For him, settling down had meant living in the farmhouse, working on Whidbey as a civilian once he retired, taking overseas assignments on contract for the government if he felt the urge to travel abroad again.

A permanent relationship with a woman hadn’t entered the picture, not ever.

A woman and a child, that was entirely outside his scope.

“She’ll never see me as anything other than the man who wants to take her home away from her.”

“Unless she falls for you. And you for her, of course.”

“Have you been talking to Emily in labor and delivery?” Serena’s friend had been really obvious when she’d dropped the hint that Serena and Pepé were going to be at the tree farm.

“Who?” Doc was either playing stupid or thought Jonas was.

“Never mind.”

“You won’t know until you give it a try, Jonas.”

* * *

D
OC
F
RANKLIN
’
S
WORDS
rang in his mind all through his shift that day. Was Jonas falling for a woman he’d only met in person less than a month ago?

As he set a six-year-old’s broken arm, he thought of Pepé and knew how upset the parents were that their child was injured. When a sullen teenage girl came in with her frazzled mother, he wondered what kind of teenager Pepé would be, and how it would affect Serena. He couldn’t imagine her beauty marred by the trials of adolescence, but in his observation and experience no parents went unscathed when puberty hit their child.

His last case of the day was the child of a man whose active-duty spouse had been killed in a helicopter crash in Kandahar Province only weeks earlier. Jonas had been on his way home when the accident happened; otherwise, he’d have been in the trauma unit when the casualties arrived. As he looked into the young father’s haunted, grief-stricken face he knew that the antibiotics he prescribed for the strep throat both he and his daughter had could only cure their sore throats and body aches.

Jonas couldn’t bring back the widower’s wife or the girl’s mother.

He felt his gut clench at the hell Serena and Pepé had lived through.

As he sat at his desk doing paperwork after his clinicals, his fingers stopped midstroke.

Doc Franklin might be right.

Jonas didn’t consider himself obtuse, and as much as he avoided dealing with his emotions, just like the next man, he found it impossible to ignore the fact that he might be falling.

For the first time in his life, Jonas faced the fact that his heart was taking precedence over his methodical, logical brain.

Whidbey Island
Ten days before Christmas

J
ONAS
STILL
COULDN
’
T
believe he’d managed to get Serena to agree that she and Pepé would come to his brother’s house for their pre-Christmas cookie baking and house-decorating party. Every year Paul and Mary had the whole clan over the second or third weekend in December. This year they were having it on a Sunday, since their twin girls had ice hockey practice and a game on Saturday.

“Are you sure it’s okay that we’re bringing Ronald with us?” Serena sat in the passenger seat of his Jeep Wrangler as if this was the hundredth time they’d gone anywhere together and not the first. The sense of familiarity between them was undeniable.

She might think it’s a date.

After the conversation with Doc, he admitted to himself that he was in over his head with Serena. But he wasn’t going to start a serious relationship with her, or use their attraction to each other to get the house. He had to play fairer than that.

He’d get her to love his family. Once she grew to know them as Dottie had, she’d see why the house needed to stay with the only family Dottie had raised.

“It’s no problem having Ronald along. Their dog, Sadie, loves other dogs, and they’ll tire each other out.”

God, she didn’t think he was trying to date her, did she? She was the one who’d made it clear that she wasn’t interested in a relationship at the moment. Even if she was, he’d be the last person she’d trust.

And she’d be right. His entire reason for getting to know her and Pepé better was really for her to get to know him and his family. To make giving him back the house irresistible.

And if he was going to date a woman with a child, he wouldn’t take her out on a date with her son. He’d take her to a great restaurant, order a nice bottle of wine, drive to one of the many lookout vistas on West Beach and watch the surf with her. He’d kiss her senseless....

He risked a glance at Serena. He didn’t want her to misinterpret his interest as anything more than friendly. His goal was to have her accept him as a good neighbor first, then she’d warm up to him as a friend and see her mistake in taking the house from his family.

He had it all figured out.

“Pepé’s quiet.” Interesting how quickly he’d gotten used to the little guy’s constant chatter. The silence bothered him—and that raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

Getting in deeper than he’d anticipated was worth the risk, to a point. The house belonged to him—he felt it every time he walked inside. Serena had made all those changes and, contrary to what he’d expected, it didn’t feel alien, only updated.

“He’s out cold.” Her voice could melt Mount Baker’s glacier. “If we drive more than ten minutes he falls sound asleep. When he was tiny he used to get carsick. I think this is how he keeps himself from feeling icky.”

“I envy being able to fall asleep like that.” He slowed down on the main highway as a family of deer were crossing.

“They’re so small compared to real deer.” Serena smiled as she referred to the Whidbey Island deer. “Have you ever seen mule deer? They make these look like miniature poodles.”

“I’ve only been to Texas when I was sent to San Antonio for training at the air force hospital there. They have the best burn unit in the world, as I’m sure you’re probably aware.”

“Yes, a few of the men from Phil’s unit were transferred there.”

Just like that, silence swooped in over the front seat, too. Phil hadn’t had a chance to make it to San Antonio. Damn it. He hadn’t meant to bring up her husband.

He reached over to her before he had time to consider the consequences.

“I’m sorry, Serena. This is supposed to be a fun day for you and Pepé. I didn’t mean to bring up anything uncomfortable.”

She didn’t pull her hand out from under his and he ignored the relief he felt. He couldn’t ignore her soft skin or the warmth that grew where their hands joined.

“It’s okay, really. I honestly prefer to talk about it, to be more open about it. I don’t ever want it to be the ‘we don’t talk about it’ taboo so many people make the loss of a loved one. Pepé’s not going to remember Phil very well and that’s a tough thing to accept, but then again he’s not suffering the pain of loss like an older kid would.”

“From what you told me and what I read in his medical chart, Pepé had a hell of a time at first.”

Serena nodded.

“He did. Those months when he stopped talking—they were horrible.” Her voice wavered and he squeezed her hand. The deer had cleared the road and he released her hand as he put the car back into Drive.

“You’ve been such a good mother to him, Serena. It’s obvious that he’s well-adjusted and enjoying the life you’ve made for yourselves.”

Guilt gnawed at his stomach. He shouldn’t be praising her move into Dottie’s house, not if he wanted to convince her to leave it. He wasn’t really, he told himself; he was referring to her demeanor and the emotional support she gave Pepé.

“I didn’t have a choice.” She wiped the condensation off her window and looked out at the bare fields as they drove south on the island before turning back to him.

“It’s not a matter of doing what’s right or wrong when tragedy hits. At least, for me it wasn’t.”

“Why do you think your mother didn’t tell you about your biological father before Phil died?” If she had, he might have met Serena when they were both younger.

Pepé could’ve been his kid.

He swerved the Jeep as the shock of that thought made him jerk. “Sorry about that. Too much coffee.”

Serena wasn’t paying attention to his anxiety.

“You’d have to understand my mother and her family. My mother is the child of a Mexican cook for a huge ranch, and her father was the son of the ranch owner. When my grandparents married it was at a different time—their marriage was considered “mixed” and my grandfather was disowned by his family. They came around when my mother was born, however. So when my mother found herself pregnant by a man who’d said he’d loved her, but then admitted he wouldn’t stop drinking, she wouldn’t marry him, and they closed ranks. They protected her and helped her with raising me until she met my stepfather, who, by the way, is a wonderful man. Like Dottie was a mother to you, Red is a father to me.”

Her profile was regal as she stared out the windshield and relayed her thoughts to him.

“When I married Phil after law school and we moved away to his first duty station in North Carolina, my family had a hard time with it, especially my mother. Then we got orders back to Texas. We weren’t that close in El Paso, but at least we were in the same state. Pepé came along, and it was great to have my family nearby. Phil’s family is from the same area. He and I met in Austin when we were in college—me in law and him in international relations. He was there on an Army scholarship. He never got his commission, though. They ran out of spots and he enlisted. He was that dedicated.”

She stopped so suddenly he shot a glance at her.

Her profile was beautiful. Raven hair flowed around her large brown eyes and high cheekbones, flaring out where her lips curved. Full, moist lips. She’d taken the time to put lipstick on; he’d never noticed the bright red stain before. Had she wanted to impress his family or taunt him with her seductive mouth?

Jonas wasn’t the effusive type when it came to describing women; he categorized them as attractive or not when they evolved into dating prospects. Dottie had taught him and his brothers that every woman has her own beauty, and he knew that was true. None had drawn him the way she did.

He wanted to believe that it was only a physical attraction. That would make all of this so much easier. Instead, Serena outshone the previous women in his life. The women he’d cared for the most had all been intelligent and they’d all possessed a keen sense of humor.

Serena had those qualities as well as a compassionate heart and remarkable level-headedness, especially considering everything she’d been through.

He’d bet she gave her clients superlative legal counsel.

“We don’t need to talk about Texas, or your previous life.” He took the turnoff to Paul’s.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Jonas. It’s not as painful as it was twelve or even six months before. I simply don’t want to bore or burden you. That’s my past, Pepé’s past. We’ve started a new life out here, a life we’ve grown into. I’ve learned that taking this journey one day at a time works best for me.”

“You sound like you’re in a twelve-step program or something.”

She laughed. “No, I’m not, but it’s a good philosophy, isn’t it?”

He didn’t answer as they drew closer to Paul’s house. It lay in the midst of a sprawling meadow, bordered by tall fir trees on one side and more sturdy maples and oaks on the other. Puget Sound and the mainland were to the east of the property.

“This is huge. Was it always here, or did Paul put it in?” Her gaze took in the meandering gardens and thickets of evergreen trees.