His Best Friend's Baby

With Mitch gone, Julia only had her own mother, Sergeant Beth Milhow. Julia and Ben could have gone to live with her mom and continue the life she had known forever.

A military daughter. A military wife. A military widow.

But she couldn’t do it anymore. She wanted a family. Friends who had more in common with her than what their husbands did for a living. She wanted more than duty and loneliness so sharp it sliced at her. She had to try and find a better way, which was why she’d come to New Springs.

What she really wished, if she were completely honest with herself, was that Jesse Filmore would be here. Last she had heard he was in the hospital in San Diego, which was close enough that he might head home if he still had family in the area. She’d settle for any kind of anchor that would pull him back to New Springs.

This was her new life—a fresh start, and she wanted desperately to have Jesse in it.

She was being foolish. She had enough on her plate dealing with her in-laws. The very last thing she needed to do was cloud up her head with romantic illusions…or delusions. Particularly about her dead husband’s best friend.

But if she closed her eyes, she could still see Jesse’s dark eyes burning bright through the shadowy dawn.

She pulled the envelope from Agnes and Ron’s last Christmas card out of her jeans pocket and checked it against the numbers on the houses. She turned at the corner at Wilson and Hemlock, walked down half a block until she found 12 Hemlock Street, a two-story brick house that was triple the size of the small army house she and Ben had called home in Germany for the past two years.

She swiped at the sweat that beaded up on her forehead. Oh, God, why didn’t I call? Whatif Agnes changed her mind?

She turned up the beautiful slate path toward the house. Her heart clogged her throat and with every heartbeat she saw spots in the corners of her eyes.

The last thing she needed was to faint on the Adams’ doorstep. She tried to focus on the concrete reality: the flowering vines clinging to the red brick, the overgrown garden filled with jade plants and gorgeous lupine that were nearly choked out with weeds.

Losing a son must put you off lawn work fora while.

She clapped a hand over her mouth to stop the hysterical giggle that was nearly a sob. She was coming unglued. She stopped at the door—a wooden one, simple and solid with a small window at the top.

She tried to smooth her short, dishwater-blond hair to get the worst of the haywire strands to settle down. Julia never bothered with makeup, and now she wished she had at least put on a little blush.

Yeah, she laughed at herself, because yourhair and makeup are really going to make herlove you.

She leaned down and looked at sleeping Ben. He’d woken up a few hours ago but his internal clock was screwy from jet lag.

Julia tried to see her son with unbiased eyes, to find imperfections, but she couldn’t detect any. Even dead to the world he was still the cutest kid she’d ever seen. He had Mitch’s thick, white-gold hair with just a little curl. His eyes, when they were open, mirrored her own big blue ones. And, thanks to a genetic hiccup, he had a dimple in his chin.

“Grandma Agnes is going to love you, Ben,” Julia whispered. “Even if she can’t stand me.”

She didn’t give herself time to think, or change her mind or even imagine the worst possible outcome. She charged ahead and rang the doorbell.

The seconds between pressing the small illuminated button and hearing someone on the other side of the door stretched unbearably. Slowly, the door swung open and an older, sadder version of Mitch wearing a faded plaid shirt stood there. He peered over the top of a pair of thin gold glasses. “Hello?”

“Hi, um, Ron.”

He flipped on the light over the door and Julia blinked, jerking back from the brightness. Ben woke up with a cry and clapped his hands over his eyes.

“Oh, my,” Ron whispered.

“Ron? Who is it?” a woman’s voice called from inside.

Ron smiled and Julia felt every bit of tension and worry slide right out of her.

“It’s Julia and Ben,” Ron replied, his smile growing until he started to laugh.

“That’s not funny, Ron.”

“I’m not kidding, Agnes.”

Silence. And then the clatter of a pan hitting the sink and Agnes—a short, round woman with a curly nimbus of gray hair and a tea towel trailing like a silk scarf behind her—was running down the hallway toward them.

“Oh, oh!” she cried, barreling past her husband to wrap her arms around Julia. Julia was awash in the scent of garlic and roses. Agnes’s strong wet hands gripped Julia’s back and she felt all the air rush from her body. Agnes dropped her arms and knelt in front of Ben.

“Hello, hello, little boy,” she cried, tears running down her round cheeks.

Julia shut her gaping mouth. This welcome was simply more than she could have hoped for. More than she’d ever dreamed.

Careful, Mitch’s snide voice whispered. You always believe the things that are toogood to be true.

Julia, exhausted and emotional, ignored her dead husband’s voice. If this was too good to be true she would figure it out later, as she always did. Right now, she was swept up in the tide of the moment, helpless to stop this strange homecoming.

“He looks just like Mitch, doesn’t he, Ron?”

“Yes, he does,” Ron agreed, lifting his glasses to wipe his eyes. “Let’s get them in the door, Agnes.”

“Of course.” Agnes started to get up and Julia held out a hand to assist and found herself back in her mother-in-law’s arms.

“We’re so glad you’re here,” Agnes murmured. “Thank you for coming to us.”

The icy silences between Julia and Agnes had seemingly melted away after Mitch had died in the helicopter crash. Julia had gotten a call from an inconsolable Agnes, who’d begged Julia to come to California, to bring Ben so they could get to know him—the only thing left of their precious son.

Come, she’d said, we will be here for you.

It had been a spell, an enchantment, we willbe here for you. Words so foreign to Julia they might have been a different language.

A million things rushed to Julia’s throat but all she could manage to say was a tight, “Thanks for having us.”

“Are you hungry? Did you just get in? Do you have a place to stay? You have to stay here. We insist, don’t we, Ron?” They stepped through the foyer into a small dining room that opened into a large living room with a fireplace and bookshelves crammed with books.

The dining-room table was freshly wiped down, the streaks still damp on the oak finish, and the smell of garlic and potatoes filled the air.

Julia’s stomach roared to life.

“I guess she’s hungry,” Ron said.

Julia pressed a fist to her stomach. “You know, airline food,” she said with dumb chuckle. The truth was the rubbery airline sandwich was probably the best meal she’d had in weeks.

Ron crouched, his knees cracking, to get a better look at Ben, who blinked owlishly at the old man. “Hello,” Ron said in a soft voice and everyone seemed to hold their breath, as if this were a test that they could all fail.

After a moment, Ben reached out a curled fist and dropped a handful of raisins in Ron’s hand and smiled his heartbreaker smile.

Ron and Agnes sighed in adoration.