From the monitor on the counter came the sound of Cooper crying, and Pete sighed. “Dammit.” He started to get up, but I stood faster.
“It’s my fault. Let me.” Grateful for a break from the discussion, I switched off the monitor on the kitchen counter and headed up to Cooper’s bedroom. My bad mood lifted as soon as I saw him, and I scooped him up from his crib. “Hey, buddy.”
He continued to cry as I reached into the crib for the soft little blanket I’d given to him when he was born. It was about six inches square, pale blue, and it had a bunny head on one corner. “Bunny” was one of the only words Cooper said, and he was rarely without it in his little grasp.
I spread Bunny over my shoulder and cuddled Cooper close, and he rested his cheek on the blanket, stuck his thumb in his mouth, and quieted down. Lowering myself into the rocker in his room, I held his warm little body against mine, rubbed his back, and hummed softly. He was a little restless at first, but after a few minutes, I felt his body relax as his breathing became slower and deeper. I kissed his soft brown curls and inhaled the sweet scent of baby shampoo, torn between feeling lucky to be an uncle and heartbroken I’d never be a father.
I’d been close to my own, and his death had been tough.
It had happened suddenly, not even six months after I’d left the Army. I’d been a fucking mess at the time, still struggling to process the things I’d seen and done after deployments to Iraq and Afghanistan. Still trying to fit in again at home when all I wanted to do was isolate myself. Still feeling so on edge that every time I saw so much as a plastic bag in the road, I panicked. I was drinking too much, lost my temper too easily, battled nightmares and constant anxiety. Then in the middle of that, my father had a heart attack.
I’d felt powerless. And I’d wanted to give up.
It was Steph who pulled me back from the edge. God knows why, since I was an emotional fuck-up, and I’d never treated her right when we were young. She’d always been there for me, though, claimed she’d loved me since she was six years old and wasn’t about to stop now just because I was going through something. “I’m not letting you wreck yourself, Jack Valentini,” she’d said in her toughest voice, all five foot two inches of her. “You promised me you’d come back, and you did. I promised you I’d be here, and I am.” Her voice had softened. “Stay with me.”
With her support, I saw a doctor about my sleeping problems, a therapist for my PTSD, and stopped abusing alcohol. I thought more about what I was putting in my body and read up on the benefits of organic foods—both eating them and growing them. I remembered my father’s beliefs about responsible farming, and researched modern approaches to small-scale, sustainable agriculture. It gave me a purpose. It felt like a way to honor my dad, and I felt a connection to nature that I didn’t feel with people.
It took a while, but I got better. Not cured, but better. And Steph was there for me the whole way.
We got married the following year and worked our asses off on the farm, with a plan in place to buy out my brothers within five years.
Less than two years later, she was gone.
God, I fucking miss you, Steph. You should be here with me. I always felt better with you by my side.
Now I’d be stuck with some stranger here telling me what to do, butting in, wanting to make changes so we could stand out. She’d probably cook up some bullshit publicity stunt and expect me to participate. Well, I didn’t want to stand out. I just wanted to do what I did and lead a quiet life. And it wasn’t like we were poor. We weren’t rich, but we were doing OK. Certainly better than our parents had done. Frowning, I rose to my feet and carefully laid Cooper on his belly in his crib. Kissing my fingertips, I touched his forehead one last time and slipped out of the room.
“He asleep?” Pete looked at me hopefully when I entered the kitchen.
“Yes.” I switched the monitor back on.
“Thanks. You’re so good with him.”
I shrugged, although secretly it pleased me I was good with Cooper. I was crap with the adults in my family. What did that say about me?
“Did you have a chance to think about what we said?” Brad asked.
I remained standing, hands shoved in my pockets. “I just don’t think it’s necessary, and I bet it’s expensive. What the hell will some city girl know about how to help us here anyway?”
“Maybe nothing,” Pete admitted. “But we’re going to find out. She’ll be here tomorrow at one for a lunch meeting. You coming?”
I scowled. I didn’t want to go to their damn meeting, because that would imply giving in, but if I skipped it, I might end up with no say whatsoever, and no clue what they agreed to do or how much they offered to pay her. Which was worse?
I’d decide tomorrow, but I didn’t want to show any chinks in the armor. “Whatever. You guys can deal with her. I want nothing to do with this.” I strode angrily through the kitchen and out the back door, but I was careful not to let it slam so that it wouldn’t wake Cooper.
The sun was setting behind the trees as I walked across the yard. I lived in an old hunting cabin tucked into the woods, which suited me perfectly. It had been on the property when my grandparents bought the land, and my parents had lived in it when they first got married; after that they’d used it as a guest house. When I’d moved back, its privacy and simplicity appealed to me, and I’d asked if I could live there and pay rent.