Page 14 of SEAL’S Baby Surprise (Lanes #2)

LEE

By the time we get back from the pizza place, it is nearly dark.

Since Austin is very much a sunup to sundown kind of guy, that means it’s bedtime.

It makes sense, really. Solar energy powers the fridge, A/C unit, and anything else we want to use, including the television and charging cell phones run on power from the sun.

He’s kind of like the sun, too. Bright. Shining.

He’s really amazing like that.

Julia and I get first dibs on the bathroom, and I show her how to smooth on a little olive oil as a moisturizer. I don’t have any of my usual skin creams, lotions, or special soap.

I hope I don’t get a bad sunburn or develop a supreme case of acne. I’m not sure where I would get the stuff I’d need if I do because I always ordered online.

Julia is happy with dabbing on the oil with a cotton ball and looks super cute because it brings out her freckles and shows off her healthy surfer tan. She’s blond, like her father, but so cute she’s just like a little doll.

I brush out her pretty hair and put it in loose braids for sleeping. She goes out to her father for her bedtime story.

I take care of my own face, and the skin on my head. Austin, who has had plenty of experience with new haircuts this short, warned me that I need to use lotion or whatever on my head to avoid sunburn — just like my face skin.

The super short hair isn’t even long enough to style, so I rub some olive oil into it, and add a head wrap out of the assortment of gear Austin and Julia had brought back in their bags.

The wrap is a soft blue that brings out the color in my eyes. I pull on a nice, clean big t-shirt with the words “Freedom Beach” stenciled across its front. It is a darker blue and fits me like a dress.

For the first time since shedding the awful wedding dress, I feel almost pretty. I slip my feet in the flip-flops Austin had bought for me and go out where Austin is telling “Goldilocks and the Three Bears” to Julia — complete with growls, snarls, and shrieks.

Just as he finishes up, the twins come running over. “Dad’s gone out on the road,” Bobby says.

“Mom says we can have a sleepover if you wanna come,” Betty adds.

“Can I, Daddy?” Julia begs. “We watched TV and had popcorn last time.”

“Promise to mind?” Austin asks.

“Every good thing their mama says,” Julia answers. “She says good things, mostly.”

Austin laughs. “I know she does. Go enjoy being with your friends. I’ll manage to rough it with Lee. Do you want Ark?”

Julia shakes her head. “He’s big and he gets hairs on their couch. They’ve got Squeegee. She should be enough.”

“Who’s Squeegee?” I ask.

“The Turners’ standard poodle pup. Right now, she has a squeaky little bark, but I suspect it will deepen when she gets older. It’s something we’ll have to think about later, since Ark is a registered breeder.”

I think about that for a moment, then realize that dogs don’t come with birth control. That’s why the Humane Society was always holding those spay and neuter workshops. I’d even helped with a couple of fundraisers for them.

“She’s a baby now?” I ask. “Could we see her?”

“Sure,” Betty says. “She’s so cute! I bet she and Ark would make super loverly puppies.”

“They probably would,” Austin says, clearly amused by Betty’s enthusiasm.

“But we’d probably better take that up with your mom and dad before Squeegee is old enough to think about being a mommy.

Babies are serious business, not to be started lightly.

” With that comment, he tugs on one of Julia’s braids.

“They don’t wash in on the tide?” Bobby asks.

“Not usually,” Austin nearly laughs at this. “But none of you need to think about that now. We can walk over and see Squeegee.”

I can see that it makes him feel better by offering to walk the kids back. It turns out that Betty and Bobby live in one of the Tiny Houses rowed up at the beginning of the residential area. It has soft gray panels that look like old barn wood on the outside.

Austin tells Ark, “Sit, Stay.” The big dog sits and stays. When we step in, I can see why. It is super cute, a miniature little house.

But everything is close together. It is a two-story, with a sleeping loft for the kids, and a big bed for mom and dad downstairs.

“I get to sleep on the couch!” Julia announces importantly.

“It folds out, so I have to get up super early and help Mrs. Turner make breakfast.” Mrs. Turner, an African American woman, with medium brown skin and her hair done naturally in a halo of soft curls laughs a little at that.

“I wouldn’t make her do it, but the couch has to fold up before I can get to the kitchen. She’s a good helper.”

My mouth opens, and words are out before I stop to think. “Does Mr. Turner disapprove of sleep overs?”

Mrs. Turner laughs a little and smiles the sweetest smile I think I’ve ever seen. A dimple plays peekaboo in one cheek, and the corners of her brown eyes crinkle up.

“Not at all. He encourages Julia to come over and play. But he’s almost bigger than Austin, and when he’s home, our tiny house is just filled up. Having Julia over when he is gone helps me feel less lonesome.”

Mrs. Turner isn’t a small person, herself, but she is tall and rangy rather than round and chubby like me. Julia hugs her around the hips and says, “No one should feel lonesome.”

Mrs. Turner hugs her back, in the automatic way many moms do. My mom never had.

It makes me ache to see them. One of my nannies hugged me like that. She had been a grandmother, helping send her grandkids through college. I’d missed her a lot when my mother declared I was too old for a nanny and needed a governess instead.

“They came to see Squeegee,” Betty says. “Where is she?”

“I think she hid under the bed,” Mrs. Turner says.

“Here, Squeegee,” Betty calls. She’s answered by a tiny black nose poking from under the dust ruffle of the downstairs bed, and a squeaky little puppy bark. Betty reaches under the bed and pulls out a fuzzy mop of white hair. She is just about the cutest thing ever.

We don’t stay long. We all pet Squeegee, then Austin and I head back to the van. When we get there, Austin looks down at Ark. “Patrol, big guy,” he says. Ark gives a sneeze, then he trots back down the row of residences (you can’t call them houses).

“What will he do?” I ask.

“Patrol,” Austin answers. “The pup is too timid to bark at intruders. I’ll leave our door unlocked in case Julia needs to come back. Ark will go back and forth between us, and probably sleep outside the Turners’ place.”

“You feel safe doing that?” I ask.

“Sure,” he says. “I’m plenty tough enough, don’t you think?”

I laugh. I know he makes me feel safe. “But what about Ark? Will he be safe?”

“You bet,” he reassures me. “He won’t leave his assigned patrol area, and the neighbors all know him. Since we’ll have the van to ourselves, what do you want to do tonight?”

“Can we watch a movie?” I ask.

“Sure,” he says. “I’ve got something I’d like for you to see. It was a classic my grandmother used to watch. I’ve thought about it a lot since I’ve been back stateside.”

“Is your grandmother still alive? Can we go see her?” I’m not sure why I ask that. It just seems like such a natural thing to do.

“I’m afraid not,” Austin says sadly. “Grandma passed away while I was still in high school. That’s probably why I wound up such a mess. She used to keep me on the straight and narrow.”

“Straight and narrow,” I say. “I’ve heard that and always wondered what it meant.”

“For strait is the gate and narrow the way that leads to life,” Austin quotes.

“Grandma was big into Bible reading. She used to drag us all to Sunday school and church. When she got too feeble to make the trip, the preacher at our local church used to come around on Sunday afternoon and read with her.”

“How can a gate be straight?” I ask, because it seems an odd way to describe a gate.

“It means narrow. The quote is out of Matthew, and it’s kind of like poetry. By saying that the gate is strait, and the way narrow, they don’t have to use the same word twice to describe it.”

We are getting back to the van now. “Is there an opposite?” I ask.

“Oh, yeah,” Austin answers. “‘Go in at the strait gate, because wide is the gate and broad the way that leads to destruction.’ Grandma and the preacher used to have a field day gossiping about who was rollin’ down the broad highway to you-know-where.”

I laugh at that. Not that people doing stupid things and getting into trouble is funny, but just the way Austin said it.

I could just see an elderly woman, all propped up in bed and a fellow dressed up in a suit with a Bible in his hand, and the two of them chattering away about who was headed for the hot place.

“Grandma wasn’t all that religious,” Austin says. “But she had a good time visiting with the preacher. I miss her. She was good to talk to. We used to watch this movie a lot when I was a kid.”

I think about that. There is no one in my life that is good to talk to. Or there hadn’t been, until I met Austin. I am curious to see the movie and find out what it was about.

“Sounds fun,” I say. “You can tell me about the bits she thought were important.”