Mountain Man's Secret Baby Read online

  This was the first time I was ever glad to receive one of these checks. It was part of my separation agreement. I had to accept the severance package they offered me. The lawyers said something about it reduced the chances that I’d have a case if I ever tried to sue the U.S. Government in the future.

  The thought never crossed my mind.

  Just like the thought that I could possibly be disabled. No way!

  I made them remove that from the final piece of paper that I finally did agree to. They didn’t see the big fuss. A man like me who lives on principles? It mattered more than any other sentence in that entire three page document.

  I make it to the bank just in time. Thankfully they work a full day even on the parade day. I guess with so many veterans in town they figure it’s the best way to honor them. Plus there are probably a lot of veterans like me that only come in for this day making it our only chance to sort out our banking details.

  I take three hundred and deposit the rest as always.

  I rush across the street and down the block to the hotel where we’ve agreed to meet.

  When I told her I wanted to spend the evening with her I didn’t present it like I meant to consummate our brief relationship.

  Do I want that to happen?

  More than anything.

  Am I going to pressure her?

  Absolutely not.

  We may never make it out of the lobby, but if we do I want to be prepared. I want to give her a special night like she’ll never, ever forget because that’s exactly what it will be for me.

  I haven’t been with one single woman since I moved out here eight years ago. Never even considered it let alone wanted to.

  Now it’s all I can think of because of her.

  I wish we had more time. I wish she was here for a few more days, or a week, or a month, a year…forever would be nice.

  We could really get to know each other and let the physical parts come naturally.

  But it feels so natural right now.

  We were put on this earth to find the perfect partner to make babies with. It’s a fact. How else can a species survive? It’s our number one mission in life and I want to complete it with her.

  Damn I want to make a baby with her.

  Combining my intensity and strength with her beauty, radiance, and femininity and we’d get the most amazing child ever to set foot on this beautiful earth.

  I just know it.

  But I don’t know if we’ll ever get the chance.

  We may not make it up to the room, but I’m preparing for it anyways.

  I’m not about to blow the biggest moment in my life if the time comes.

  There’s a woman selling the few bouquets of flowers she has left from the parade.

  “Afternoon,” I say.

  “Afternoon,” she says.

  “How many do you have left?”

  “Three bouquets of two dozen each.”

  “I’ll take ‘em all,” I say.

  Less than two minutes later and I’m walking into the nicest hotel in town with seventy-two roses underneath my arm.

  The receptionist is shocked out of her mind.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but we’re all out of rooms.”

  “Nothing,” she says.

  “Do you know anywhere else that might have a room?”

  Suddenly her walkie-talkie beeps.

  She picks it up and talks into it to someone, but I can’t make out the words.

  “We just had a cancellation, sir.”

  “Great. I’ll take it.”

  “It’s for the presidential suite. Is that okay?”

  I pull the wad of cash out of my pocket, still holding all the roses in the other.

  It’s $399 per night.

  I fumble with the money, placing it on the counter.

  “Let me help you with that, sir,” a bellhop says reaching for the roses.

  “It’s okay. I’ve got everything under control.” Something’s gotten into me. I just want to do everything for this girl. I want to be in charge of every single detail to make everything perfect in case we do make it upstairs later.

  “Does that include tax?” I ask.

  “Tax is additional.”

  I don’t have enough. I’d sell the clothes off my back for another hundred-dollar bill right now.

  “I don’t quite have enough,’ I say.

  “Are you a veteran, sir?”

  “Yes,” I say.

  “Let me check with my manager and see what we can do.”

  “Thank you, but I don’t want any special favors. I want to pay what anyone else would pay.”

  “I might be able to…wait a second.”

  The receptionist reaches for the wad of cash.

  “This one is a…a $500 bill? I didn’t even know those existed.”

  She pulls out her phone and types something into it.

  “I guess they do. They discontinued them in 1969, but there are still some in circulation. I guess you’re the lucky one who got one.”

  “Lucky indeed,” I say.

  I was in such a hurry to make the deposit I didn’t even count it. I just took the cash and handed most of it back to the teller. I guess the handful of bills I grabbed contained one $500.

  This is meant to be. I know it.

  A few minutes later I’m naked spreading rose petals all over the bed and in a trail to the door.

  I’ve got to hurry.

  I still have to take a shower and then wait until housekeeping comes back with my clean clothes. They said it will take just over an hour which should make me ready just in time for her arrival.

  If she shows up.

  Another reason I knew it was a good idea to invite her for the evening was to give her a couple hours to change her mind. It’s no secret that women are emotional. I want her to have a couple hours to herself to make sure this is still what she wants to do.

  She’s a smart girl and I know she’ll weigh the pros and cons, although I sure hope there are none in her mind. There certainly aren’t any cons in mine.

  But I have to remind myself I’m meeting her in the lobby. I won’t even suggest coming up to the room unless I know it’s something she’s completely comfortable with.

  If not then I’m going to sleep in the nicest hotel I’ve ever slept in in my life.

  A big bearded man naked and alone on top of a bunch of rose petals.

  CHAPTER 6

  Winter

  I finish my coffee at the coffee shop and exit just as a light snow begins to fall.

  How romantic.

  Too romantic in fact. Things are falling into place too perfectly, although I’m not sure there’s actually anything to “fall” for.

  He doesn’t have fancy lines. He’s still kind of rough around the edges. But something tells me I can fall for this guy…if I haven’t already.

  It already seems like a lifetime ago that we met. I can’t believe I threw a punch at him. I laugh a bit to myself as I run across the street towards the hotel.

  And I can’t believe I’m going to his hotel either. A hotel he’s rented especially for tonight.

  But he never alluded to anything physical happening between us. Am I that naive? I mean come on…why else would a guy invite you over for the evening. I did grasp onto the subtle difference in his word choice. He said evening and not night. I’m not sure if guys differentiate at that level, but he’s definitely not most guys.

  I arrive at the hotel and see the doorman turn to open the door, but he’s too slow.

  It’s already opening for me and guess who is standing right behind it pushing the giant door as if it weighs nothing?

  “Good evening,” he says.

  “Good evening.”

  I step inside and as I do I feel his hand gently against the small of my back which causes my body to respond immediately.

  I feel a tingle and I stand up just a little straighter and walk with just a little more pep in my step.

  Then I pause
realizing I have no idea where we’re going.

  If he leads me to his room to chat I’ll accept, but I’ll also be a bit leery that he’s only out for one thing.

  Fortunately he doesn’t.

  “There are a couple of chairs over this way by the window. They’re secluded from everyone else. I thought we could relax here and get to know each other a little more.”

  “That sounds great,” I say.

  “And it’s just started to snow and there’s a bit of light through the window so we should have a nice view, although I know that’s not the view I’ll be taking in.”

  I look up and see he’s looking down at me. His eye contact is so direct and piercing. Maybe it’s his eyes, which match mine.

  Well I guess I know what color eyes our babies would have.

  What has gotten into me?

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  “Yeah,” I say. “Just a chill I guess.’

  “I can grab a blanket from the reception.”

  “No. It’s okay. Really,” I say. I know the chill was really me just shaking my head trying to come to my senses. How could I even imagine having babies with anyone, let alone someone I just met.

  I’ve never even considered the idea. Plus I’m too young. Way, way too young.

  I remember reading some random book called The Red Queen by Matthew Ridley years ago. It was sitting on a table in the coffee shop of a bookstore so I picked it up while I waited.

  Six hours and three coffees later I was wired from the caffeine and even more so by what I just read.

  The author laid out an amazing case that when it comes to reproduction we really don’t have much say in the matter, no matter how much logic, reasoning, and self control we think we do have. When our genes sense an optimal candidate to reproduce they practically force us to do so.

  And with each passing second with this gentle giant my genes are telling me not to miss out on this once in a lifetime opportunity.

  But they’re not just telling me. They’re yelling at me. Kicking and screaming and shouting and dragging me closer toward him.

  And that’s exactly what happens when we sit down.

  “Oh sorry,” I say as my knee bumps against his leg.

  He says nothing. He just looks at me like there’s nothing to be sorry about and that he wouldn’t mind if I did it again.

  And I wouldn’t mind it either, although maybe my approach could be a little more ladylike and not so clumsy.

  But it’s not my choice. I’m losing control of my ability to concentrate.

  We both order coffees and a few minutes later the waiter is bringing me a beautiful, decorative mug with the richest smells of Colombia that tickle my senses causing my nostrils to flare wider as I inhale the dark aromatic concoction.

  “Cheers,” he says.

  We clink our mugs and I notice his is just a simple white version. I guess the waiter didn’t have to be told to bring a man a man’s mug. And considering he ordered a coffee black I assume the waiter would feel ridiculous serving him in anything not fit for a no-nonsense kind of drink for a no-nonsense kind of guy.

  Before long I accidentally catch the clock on the wall out of the corner of my eye. Ninety minutes have passed since our scheduled meet-up time, not to mention I was ten minutes early.

  It hits me that we’ve been talking about one thing and one thing only the entire time. Me.

  He doesn’t really ask questions he just guides the conversation to where the natural inclination is for me to respond to what he says. I don’t know if his conversation skills are that way by design, or it’s just natural. Either way it just flows so smoothly and naturally. I don’t feel like I’m the target of a police investigation or like we’re playing a game of Twenty Questions but in regards to my life.

  It’s like that old saying. I feel like I’ve known him my entire life. It makes me wonder if I’ve just been hanging out with the wrong kind of people or if I’ve just never hung out with him specifically.

  And it also makes me wonder what I’ll say if he asks me to join him in his room.

  I can’t deny myself. At this point I’d accept, but he seems in no hurry to rush things.

  I try and change the subject about him and his life, but he somehow answers the question while turning the conversation back on me and my interests hopes and dreams.

  “I’d like to work with animals or kids one day,” I say.

  “From what I’ve seen some people work with kids and kind of adopt those kids as their own, deciding not to have any for themselves. I guess they figure having so many “adopted” kids, so to speak, in their life satisfies that desire. They may not be connected through blood, but they’re connected through a different calling and more importantly they’ve chosen to have such a close kind of relationship. It wasn’t just the duty to family some seem to have simply because of what society says or that’s how families work. It’s like they’ve chosen each other and strangely enough that bond can be even stronger than blood, in certain cases.”

  “I understand,” I say. He’s definitely been listening to what I’ve been saying. “That describes me to a T.”

  “But even so do you think you’ll ever want kids one day? Based on everything you told me about your own life?”

  “You know I was noticing you don’t really ask questions. You just make the conversation flow so simply and effortlessly. But now I realize that when you do have a question you make it a real zinger.”

  I smile and reach for my coffee to give myself a minute to really give his question the proper consideration it deserves.

  “I hope you don’t think I’ve been waiting to ask you such a question. I can see how you might think that seeing that I’m older, but that’s not the case. It’s just something that’s very interesting to me, partly because of everything that’s happened in your life leading up to this point and well…the things that might happen in your future.”

  “You’re right,” I say. “It’s a big question to consider.”

  “I’m definitely not expecting an answer, especially if you’re not comfortable with it. Am I intrigued? Absolutely or else I wouldn’t have asked. But I know some decision and thoughts must be kept private and if that’s one of yours then I’m happy to move on to something else.”

  “No, no,” I say. “I mean…” I pause knowing he means what he says, but on the other hand I think his question is a valid one and I want to give him an answer. Partially an answer for him and partly an answer for myself.

  “You know, I’ve thought about it before…deeply in fact. I feel like there’s a big part of me that wants to do that and that I’ve learned so much from the man that raised me. Then again there’s another part of me that wonders if I’m not cut out for children based on my experiences and I wonder if part of those experiences are so deeply ingrained in me that I might pass on certain negative thoughts about growing up to a child, if I decided to have one. I know it probably sounds crazy, but it’s just something I have to consider.”

  “It doesn’t sound crazy at all. It sounds responsible, just like you mentioned the man who raised you ingrained the idea in you to be responsible for everything no matter your age, the time, the place or any other factors.”

  “Thank you. I’m glad you think that way. I think if I told most people they’d just laugh at me.”

  “I’d never laugh at you. Except maybe if you had whipped cream on your nose,” he says.

  “Oh my gosh. How long has it been there?” I reach for my nose and brush it off with my finger but feel nothing. “Wait a second.”

  “Got ya,” he says.

  It’s a fun and tender side of him and I adore it.

  “Very funny,” I say as I reach out to slap his arm. But I don’t just slap him, I find myself leaving my arm on his bicep and if I’m being honest with myself I might have just given it a quick squeeze before pulling my hand away. It’s hard to know for sure if I actually squeezed because it didn’t move. It was absolutely
rock hard.

  It’s like if a tree falls in the forest and no one is there does it make a sound? Well, if you squeeze a ripped hunk’s arm and he’s so ripped there’s nothing to squeeze then are you actually guilty of said squeeze attempt?

  “But I still want to answer your question,” I say. I feel myself get dizzy for just a second as I watch his pupils dilate and his gaze narrow after my squeeze. Yeah, I must have squeezed if it’s getting that kind of reaction.

  He says nothing as he waits for my response.

  “My dad used to always say he wasn’t good with women and he was right…he was amazing. He was absolutely incredible with me.”

  He nods.

  “I think it’s the same with children. You have kids and then sometimes you wonder if you’re failing miserably at raising them only to realize that it’s a normal thing to think and feel. If you didn’t care and weren’t trying hard enough you wouldn’t have those feelings in the first place…but I feel like I haven’t given you a straight answer.” I pause. “My answer is that you never really know until you try and I already decided that I do want kids one day. Absolutely. I know it’s going to be a huge challenge, for a whole bunch of reasons, but life’s greatest challenges offer us the opportunity to experience life’s greatest rewards and what could be a greater reward than having a family?”

  He raises his glass and takes a sip.

  “That makes complete sense.”

  “It does?” I say. “I wasn’t sure-”

  “That I’d get it? I absolutely get it because I get you. I understand what makes you tick because it makes me tick too. We each have a past with a lot of beautiful memories but a lot of dark, sad ones too. We can’t deny our future because our past is holding us back. And the worst part is to not even try…to not even give ourselves a shot. We think we might fail, but the only failure is not trying. And in reality because we care so much we’re likely to do one heck of a job in anything we put our mind too.”

  I’m completely frozen. No one has ever so succinctly summed up my existence. I’ve even tried myself, but it took someone else to show me. Someone like him. Not just some psychiatrist who can diagnose me based on what they’ve read and studied. I appreciate their efforts and what they say may or may not be right, but it doesn’t hit home like hearing it from someone who understands me. Someone who makes me feel understood when I didn’t even understand myself.