A Man to Hold on to (A Tallgrass Novel) by Marilyn Pappano Read Free Book Online Page B

the country.
    But mostly he was sorry for himself. Sorry that his plans had just been shot to hell. Sorry that he couldn’t say, “Here’s your daughter; her name’s Mariah; take care of her.” It might have gone over all right with the major. He seriously doubted it would fly with his widow.
    “Thank you,” she said politely. She hesitated a moment, then took a step back, gesturing toward the living room. “Would you like to come in?”
    “Sure, thanks,” he answered mindlessly when what he really needed was someplace quiet to think and figure out what to do now. He’d been counting on this trip working out successfully. He’d thought Matheson might balk, but he’d been convinced that in the end, Mariah would have a new home.
    So much for hopes. There was no father for Mariah. No easy way out. Maybe he should spend the rest of his leave trying to find Sabrina, but she’d abandoned her daughter once before. How could he know she wouldn’t do it again?
    Besides, Sabrina had spent half her life running and hiding. The four years she’d lived in Leesville were the longest she’d spent in one place since she was fifteen. She had no family to speak of, and she’d had a million dream places to live: Los Angeles, San Diego, New York, Chicago, Miami, Las Vegas, Honolulu, Acapulco.
    “I’m Therese Matheson,” the major’s widow said as she led the way into the living room. She put a slight emphasis on her first name, Tuh-race, correcting the seething teenager’s mispronunciation. She offered her hand.
    “Sergeant Keegan Logan.” He kept his handshake brief, the way he’d hoped to keep all his contact with the Matheson family brief. Even in those few seconds, though, he noticed that her hand wasn’t as soft as he’d expected. The skin was warm, a little callused, her nails pale pink tipped with white. She wore a ring on her right hand, gold with a fiery orange stone, and a bracelet with the same stones linked end to end.
    And a wedding ring on her left hand? He checked as he stepped back and saw, yes, a gold band, along with a second band bearing a chunky square cut diamond. It was impressive, but it didn’t suit her. A delicate hand like that needed a more delicate stone.
    And he needed to focus on the problem at hand. No distractions caused by any pretty woman but especially the widow.
    Releasing her hand, he felt the need to swipe his palm on his jeans. Huh. He couldn’t remember the last time a handshake had made him sweat.
    She sat in a chair near the fireplace, the comfortable sort that his mother cuddled all the kids in, and crossed her legs. He chose the opposite chair, not nearly as comfortable, and sat stiffly. “Can I ask when…?”
    Sadness crept into her hazel eyes. “Three years ago. An IED.”
    “Sorry,” he said again.
    “You knew him through the Army?”
    He didn’t like to lie, but what was the point of the truth? Actually, no, I know of him because he slept with my girlfriend. He betrayed your marriage vows, he betrayed you, and he has a baby girl who needs a home. The truth would serve no purpose but to hurt her, and she’d already lost her husband. Hadn’t she been hurt enough? “I was in Iraq and Afghanistan. It must have been tough for you and your children.” He gestured toward a family photo, the girl happier than she’d been today but not by much, the boy looking grim, too.
    Therese looked at the picture for a moment or two before smiling faintly. “It was very difficult for Paul’s children. They miss him very much.”
    Paul’s children. Not our or my. She was raising her husband’s kids from another relationship. Not lucky enough to have any of her own, assuming she wanted them, but surrounded by her husband’s kids.
    “Are you stationed here at Fort Murphy?”
    “No. I had some leave and thought I would look him up. I’m at Fort Polk now.”
    She smiled faintly. “He went down there several times for training. He didn’t like the place, but I always thought