LITMIR.BIZ

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to her career, most likely. She’d make it twenty years, realize the promotions wouldn’t come again, and she’d have to pull out.

      Well, she wasn’t going to abandon her kid the way her mother had abandoned her. That was the strongest determination in her right now.

      And all of these thoughts had long since been worked out. All of them. She was just trying to avoid thinking about the uncomfortable conversation ahead. A conversation that she hoped would happen on a doorstep. Then she would turn and leave for good.

      The town had slid into autumn. Leaves shone in brilliant gold. Those that had already fallen tumbled along sidewalks and streets in a light breeze. Here and there pumpkins, skeletons and waving white ghosts announced the approach of Halloween. Pretty place, she supposed, if you wanted to turn the clock back. Of course, she was a lousy judge. Sterile military environments had been her only home for a long time now.

      The voice of the GPS, silenced so often in the empty prairies, resurrected and offered her no mercy. It told her to turn left, and she did, until she reached what she supposed was a newer subdivision. Post–World War II at least. Maybe post-Vietnam. Despite looking like it had tumbled out of a box that contained only one design, it was neat and even colorful. She guessed no one here thought about deed restrictions. Some of the houses were almost blinding in their brightness.

      “You have arrived.”

      “Shut up,” she said to the GPS. She slowed and stopped and looked at the house number. No escape. She was here.

      The house was a white ranch-style, sprawling, set on a well-tended lawn that was beginning to fade with autumn. Rose bushes, barren of all but a few flowers, climbed a trellis beside the door. A sporty little car sat in the driveway.

      She turned off the ignition and sat listening to the engine tick as it cooled. Hell, she didn’t even feel this much trepidation before a dangerous mission. The neighborhood might have been empty. Not a soul in sight, not even a moving car. Unknown territory.

      Well, maybe the Tates didn’t live here anymore. If so, that would be the end of her search.

      She realized she was thinking like a coward. Just do it. What was the worst that could happen? She got called a liar and a door slammed in her face? Hardly an incoming rocket-propelled grenade.

      Sighing, she at last climbed out of the car and straightened her cammies. She refused to wear the air force’s ugly pregnancy jumper, and she’d just started to show enough that she had to cover up somehow. A bigger cammie shirt, a larger waistband, they’d do for now. Later? She didn’t want to think about it.

      Her feet felt like lead as she walked up the path to the front door. She might be ruining someone else’s life here. She didn’t even know if Seth was married. Still, the sense of obligation drove her. He had a right to know, even if he wanted to forget it immediately.

      And her kid had a right to know that his father had been told. If Seth wanted no part of him, she figured that would be easier to explain than not telling the kid’s father at all.

      Maybe.

      Drawing a deep breath, she raised her hand and pressed the bell. For a minute or two there was no response, and just as she was beginning to hope no one was home, the door opened.

      A pleasantly plump woman regarded her with a smile. Graying hair that still showed threads of red, bright green eyes. And damn, Edie could see Seth in her face.

      “Yes?” the woman asked.

      “Mrs. Tate, I’m Major Edith Clapton. I met Seth Hardin once. He’s your son, right?”

      “Of course he is. Would you like to come in?”

      Edie shook her head quickly. “I just wanted him to know...I guess I need to tell him...well, I’m pregnant.”

      The woman’s hand flew to her mouth. Then in an instant everything changed. Before Edie could march away as she intended, a hand clasped her arm and started drawing her inside.

      “You have to come in,” Mrs. Tate said. “Coffee? Tea? Maybe some milk and cookies? Oh, dear, this is...probably upsetting for you, but a pure delight to me. At least I think it is.”

      A delight for her? Edie felt stunned, which was probably the only reason she allowed herself to be ushered into a cheerful living room, seated on a sofa and then served cookies.

      “Milk, tea, coffee?”

      “Coffee if you don’t mind,” Edie said, almost numb with amazement. She hadn’t been prepared for this kind of reception at all. “The doc says it’s okay and I haven’t had any yet today.” Explaining something she shouldn’t need to explain to this grandmotherly woman.

      “Coffee is something we always have around here,” the woman said wryly. “Call me Marge, please. I’ll be right back.”

      It wasn’t long before she held a mug of coffee in her hand. Those peanut butter cookies looked good, and her stomach was settling enough now that she felt she could eat one. Marge sat right beside her on the couch.

      “So tell me,” she said to Edie. “Everything.”

      Oh, God, tell this woman she’d had a one-nighter with her son at a base in Afghanistan? No way. But how could she lie? Starting with a lie would only get her in a tangle of mixed-up explanations.

      Just bite the bullet.

      “Seth and I met once,” she said. “Over there. Just once.”

      “Ah.” Understanding came to Marge’s eyes. “I see. You haven’t seen him since?”

      “No. I thought about not telling him, but that didn’t seem right. Anyway, if you could just let him know, I’ll be on my way. I don’t want anything.”

      “You don’t want anything.” Marge repeated the words. “Maybe not. You must be pretty self-sufficient to be a major wearing those wings. But what about what the rest of us want?”

      Us? It was a concept Edie hadn’t considered. “Seth can decide if he wants any part of this. I didn’t come to pressure him. I just felt he had a right to know.”

      “He absolutely has a right. But then there’s me. I’d like to be part of my grandchild’s life. So would Seth’s father, Nate. I’m sure of that.”

      The complications were mounting rapidly. She hadn’t bargained on a whole damn family. This was supposed to be her decision, and maybe Seth’s, but not anybody else’s.

      “Mrs. Tate...Marge...this has to be my decision, and Seth’s.”

      “You’re not giving it up, are you?” The woman looked troubled now.

      “No, I’m not giving it up. I’ll raise it. But...it’s my decision.”

      “Ultimately, yes.” Marge hesitated, then shook her head. “I’m going to tell you a story. It’s still painful after all these years. How well do you know Seth?”

      “Not at all, embarrassingly enough.”

      Marge nodded. “That’s all right. Things happen. I ought to know. Years ago before we married, I became pregnant by Seth’s father. He went back to Vietnam and, well, my father got involved. I didn’t know it, but he was stealing my letters to Nate, and stealing Nate’s to me. So I thought Nate didn’t want me. End result, I got shipped off to a cousin to have Seth, and he was put up for adoption.”

      Edie hadn’t expected this. Even less had she expected her reaction to this news. She felt a twist of anguish for this woman, and for Seth, too. “I wouldn’t do that.”

      “Times have changed. Back then, well, a girl just didn’t get pregnant. It was the worst shame possible. I was young. I thought Nate had abandoned me. I was a mess and did what I was told because I couldn’t see another option.”

      “I’m sorry.”

      “So was I for a long time. Then I got even

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