sweetheart.”
“Hell of a good dog. You know how Ry got him?”
“No, I guess I don’t.”
They got out of either side of the car, then he walked around to take her hand.
“He was a stray, six or seven months old, the vet figured. Ryder’s out at his place one night after work, putting some time into the house he built. It’s getting on dark, he’s knocking off, and this dog comes crawling in. Bone thin, his paws bleeding, shivering. It’s pretty clear he’d been out in the woods awhile. More than likely, somebody dumped him.”
Instantly her affection for D.A. doubled. “Poor thing.”
“Ryder figures he can’t just leave him there, so he’ll take him back home—he stayed with Mom a lot until he had the house closed in. So, he’d feed him, clean him up a little, give him a place to flop for the night. He’d take him to the pound in the morning.
“That was six years ago.”
Sweet, she thought—not the usual adjective applied to Ryder Montgomery. “I guess it was love at first sight.”
“I know we asked around, in case he’d run away, gotten lost. No collar, no tag, and nobody claimed him. By the morning, I can tell you, Ry would’ve been brokenhearted if someone had.”
“And yet, he named him Dumbass.”
“Affectionately, and all too often accurately. Montgomery, seven thirty reservation,” he told the hostess when they went inside.
Clare thought it over as they were escorted to the table. “You’re telling me this to illustrate pedigree doesn’t really matter.”
“People or dogs, I’d say it’s more about how you’re raised than bloodlines.”
Oddly that made her think of Sam Freemont, and just thinking about him annoyed her.
“But I get some breeds are better for kids,” Beckett added.
“It’s funny, Clint and I talked about getting a dog right after Harry was born. We thought we’d wait maybe a year, let them grow up together. Then, what do you know, Liam’s on the way, and we’re dealing with Clint’s next deployment, so it got put off.”
He started to speak, but the waiter arrived with the menus, the list of specials, offers for cocktails.
They studied the menus a moment in silence.
“Does it bother you when I talk about Clint?”
“No. It’s just I never know what to say. He was a good guy.”
“He was.” She made a decision. Lay it out, say what should be said. Nothing would be real between them unless she did.
“It was love at first sight,” she said. “He always said it was the same for him. Just instant, just . . . there you are, now let’s start planning the rest of our lives together. Heady stuff for a girl of fifteen.”
“Heady at any age, but yeah, especially.”
“I never had a single doubt. Never worried, never wondered. We argued sometimes, had more than a few scenes of high drama. But still, I never worried. My parents did; I certainly understand that better now than then. But he was a good guy, and they saw that. They loved him, too.”
“You were like the golden couple in high school. C and C. The cheerleader and the football star.”
“Heady stuff,” she repeated. “We were together two years before . . . we were together. Again, I was sure. I never worried. When he left for basic, I cried all night. Not because I was worried, but because I missed him like a limb.”
The waiter came back, took their orders.
“You were so young,” Beckett prompted.
“And bold. Fearless. I married him, went off with him, left my home, my family and friends without a single twinge of doubt or regret.” She laughed. “Who was that girl?”
“I’ve always thought of you as pretty fearless.”
“Well, I learned about fear when Harry came along. What’s this little person? What if I make a mistake? What if he gets sick, gets hurt? But even then, I didn’t doubt we’d manage it all.”
She picked up her water glass, smiled as she sipped. “We wanted four, with an option for five. Crazy. A potential of
“You were happy.”
“Oh yes. And sometimes brutally lonely, overwhelmed. That’s when fear would sneak in. But I was too busy for that, I told myself. I was proud of him. I hated being without him, hated knowing what he faced every day, every night. But he was made to be a soldier, like his father, like his brother. I knew it when I married him.”
The waiter brought the wine, and after the ritual, Clare sipped. “It’s good. Even better when it signals someone’s going to bring me food I didn’t have to cook.”
“You have more. You should finish.”
“Yes, I should finish.” And be grateful he was willing to let her.
“Harry was playing, and Liam was crying in his crib. I had morning sickness, so I had to let him cry until I’d finished. I knew I was pregnant. I hadn’t taken the test yet, but I knew.”
She paused for a moment, just a moment. “He’d only been back in Iraq three weeks. I never got to tell him we were having another child. It’s my biggest regret. I never got the chance to tell him. He never got to see Murphy, touch his face, smell his hair, hear his laugh. Murphy never had him. Liam doesn’t remember his father. Harry, at best, has some dim memories. Clint was a good father. Loving, fun, attentive. But they didn’t have time.”
“You never have enough.”
Understanding, she nodded, put a hand over his. He’d lost his father, too. “No, I don’t guess you do.
“They came to the door that morning. You know when you see them. The officer, the chaplain. You know without a word being said. The lights dim; the air goes out. For a little while there’s nothing at all.”
Beckett squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry, Clare.”
“I was holding Liam. I’d forgotten I’d picked him up when the knock came. He’s crying—teething and fussy, a little feverish with it. Harry’s hugging my leg. He must have sensed something because he started crying, too. And the baby’s inside me. Clint’s gone.
“The other wives came, to help, to comfort. I broke, a million pieces. There was fear and doubt and worry, and such horrible, horrible grief. I didn’t think I’d live through it.”
He thought of her, alone, two babies, newly pregnant, and widowed.
“Who could? How did you?”
“All I knew was I needed to come home. They needed to come home. It was the only clear answer for all of us, and it was the right one. I can think about Clint here, how much I loved him, and I’ve been able to accept that we had what we were meant to have. No more, no less. Now I have something else. I can think about him, talk about him. I have to, the boys deserve that. Just as they, and I, deserve the life we’ve made now.”
“I don’t know if it helps, but I know when we lost Dad, we were all just numb, I guess. Just taking a step at a time dealing with all the horrible, practical things you have to deal with. Eventually you find yourself in another place. Some of it’s familiar, some of it’s not. You make something else out of it, and you know you couldn’t have without the person you lost.”
“Yes.” Now she could be grateful he understood. “When you think of your dad, or talk about him, it reminds you of that. It’s the same for me. You knew Clint. We have a history that includes him, so since we’re seeing each other I don’t want you to feel awkward or uncomfortable.”
Beckett considered, went with impulse. “Do you remember Mr. Schroder?”
“I had him for U.S. history. I hated Mr. Schroder.”
“Everybody did. He was a dick. Clint and I, and some other guys TP’d his house.”
“That was you? Clint was in on that?” She sat back and laughed. “Oh my God, I remember that so well. You must’ve used a hundred rolls. It looked like a cargo ship of Charmin exploded.”
“No point in doing something if you do it half-assed.”
“You sure didn’t go half-assed on Mr. Schroder. And he was a dick.”
“Owen organized it, as you’d expect. Me, Owen, Ry. Two other guys whose names I must protect, as we
