Miami, Florida
Samantha Stewart swallowed, her throat as dry as the dust that had gathered on her dressing table. Being promoted to senior international correspondent at WNN, World Network News, would send her to countries that she’d call home for an indefinite length of time. Though she had wanted this job for as long as she could remember, now that she’d actually achieved the goal she’d worked for so hard, she wasn’t sure if accepting the new position with WNN was the right decision. For the first few months, she would be embedded with the military, which branch still undetermined. It didn’t really matter; she would be doing an excellent service for her country just by reporting on the never-ending conflicts that continued to make headlines.
Samantha was thirty years old, and with no serious relationship to keep her stateside, she was prepared to take the assignment as soon as the network wanted her to start. Her roommate, Maria Salvatore, head meteorologist at Miami’s affiliate station, MWNN, knew she’d been waiting for this opportunity, and both were prepared for her absence. She’d sublet her share of the apartment as agreed upon, and when she returned to the States, she would find a new place. Sam knew she’d never find another roommate like Maria, but at thirty years old, she secretly hoped her next roommate would be a partner, preferably a husband. Not that she was actively looking, but her biological clock was ticking. While she was a long way from being too old to have children, as an only child, she had always wanted a family and at least three children. Maybe more. Her parents were the best, and though they’d already been in their early forties when she was born, she’d always longed for a brother or a sister. Growing up in Naples, Florida, she’d been surrounded by aunts and uncles, and a dozen cousins, but at the end of the day, she was still an only child. Someday, she wanted a big family of her own. Samantha never told her parents she had these thoughts though they’d always been in the back of her mind.
Now, having achieved her lifelong career ambition, Samantha knew that her dreams of a family and happily-ever-after would have to be put on hold, and right now she was okay with that. In her line of work, she’d had to learn to adjust to whatever circumstances she found herself in, which hardly ever involved establishing a normal daily routine. One day, she’d be reporting in Miami, and the next day she would be chief White House correspondent, working out of Washington but ready, on a moment’s notice, to travel wherever the political news of the moment took her. It was an exciting life, and knowing that her political reporting days were numbered, Samantha felt a shimmer of excitement at what lay ahead. What with a new beginning in a foreign country, she knew this assignment would be the riskiest of her career, even life-altering, but she’d dreamed of this for so long that she was able to put aside the normal fears of embarking on such an assignment. Tonight, she would make a trip to Naples to deliver the news to her parents. It was too important to tell them about it over the phone. Knowing that her parents would be against her taking this assignment, which carried no little risk, she would do her best to assure them of her safety and convince them that she would stay in touch as much as the situation allowed. This would do very little to ease her mother’s anxiety, but it was the best she could offer.
Though she was the wife of a retired police officer and thereby accustomed to fearing for her husband’s safety, her mother was cursed with an overactive imagination. Add to that the addiction to mystery novels she had developed as a librarian, her mother was a worrier. To provide her parents with some extra assurance, Samantha would teach them how to use FaceTime on the new phones she’d given them for Christmas. Just the knowledge that her mother could actually see her would probably do much to alleviate the anxiety of having her only daughter in danger.
Samantha had a zillion things to take care of before her trip across Alligator Alley this evening. Life was about to change, and she was so over the moon, it was all she could do to contain herself. Smiling, she set about finishing her final day as chief White House correspondent.
Three years later
On the plane, Samantha took a small powder compact case out of her bag, snapped it open, and glanced at her image. Almost that of a funhouse freak, she thought as she closed the mirror. She’d aged more in the past three years than most women did in ten. Her once-lustrous blond hair, now lackluster, hung limply to her shoulders. Dark blue eyes that normally shimmered like sapphires were dull and flat. There’s plenty of reason for the way I look, she observed, tossing the case back in her bag. She had only spent a few weeks as an embedded reporter when the Powers That Be gave her the new title of chief senior international correspondent. Spending most of her time watching the war and reporting the often-devastating news left little time for a social life, but in spite of the war-torn area she’d temporarily called home, love had found its way to her when she’d least expected it, slamming into her heart and soul with as much force as the bombs that fell around her, so much so that they almost became white noise.
Almost.
And that’s what had aged her. The days spent with the soldiers, her sources, the fixers, her driver and interpreter, searching for the latest stories fit for the evening news, then hurriedly wiping her face with wet wipes, tugging her hair in a ponytail, and swiping on some lipstick to ensure she’d look halfway decent on camera. She would spend about five minutes reporting, then slip into her flak jacket, dust off her Blundstone boots, and prepare for a special report if called on. She’d been embedded with the army for only six weeks when she learned of her new assignment. Part of her felt relief, but another part of her was sad to leave the men and women she’d grown close to in such a short period of time. It was just another aspect of her job, one she didn’t like too much, but it is what it is, she’d told herself.
Now, here she was on a plane headed back to the States, back to Florida, to spend Mother’s Day with her mom for the first time in three years. As planned, she’d kept in close contact with her family through e-mails, an occasional letter, and FaceTime chats. She’d missed her parents more than she would admit and hoped they would slip into the familiar ease they’d always shared. More mature than when she’d left three years ago, Samantha had witnessed so much violence and sometimes death that it had hardened her. The soft edges of her former self were nothing more than a sweet memory. She smiled, recalling her arrival in Afghanistan. Despite the culture shock, she’d quickly learned the ropes and jumped into her new position as though she’d been doing it her entire life. But it was now time to look to the future as she had enormous, completely life-changing responsibilities.
“Ma’am, you’ll need to buckle your seat belt, we’re ready to taxi,” a pretty young flight attendant instructed her.
Samantha had been so caught up in her thoughts that she hadn’t paid attention to what was going on around her. She fastened her seat belt, then adjusted the belt securing the infant seat next to her. Caroline was sound asleep.
Her daughter, almost eight months old, was used to travel. Samantha marveled at how adept she’d become in her short life. They’d been on the move two weeks after she’d given birth in Italy, and travel was just a part of their routine. She’d taken a leave of absence from the network when she was six months pregnant, telling her parents that her on-air assignment had changed. She still FaceTimed them, but she was always careful not to show anything more than her face. Her mother had mentioned a few times that she had a glow about her, and Samantha told her it was a new face cream she was using. She hated to deceive her mother, but she would learn the truth soon enough; there was no way around it.
The network had been supportive of her choice and sent a new—and much younger—reporter to take her place. Samantha had taken an assignment as a staff reporter of sorts for the Associated Press, e-mailing her articles to them daily. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it would keep her out of the States for a few months.
She’d reluctantly given her flak jacket to the new girl. The young reporter knew what it was and how hard they were to come by. She had been in tears when she placed her arms through the holes and fastened the closures that kept the life-saving armored vest close to her torso.
Samantha knew that returning to Florida would have its ups and downs, but she hoped for more ups than downs. She’d been very secretive about her life for the past few years, and she would have a lot of explaining to do when she arrived home.
First and foremost, Caroline’s existence would need an explanation. Samantha had arranged to stay at a bed-and breakfast in Naples for a few days before she went to her parents’ home. She needed time to prepare her story, adjust to life in the States again, and continue her search, which she would not go into details about should the topic come up. It was too personal, and she was not ready to talk about that aspect of her life.
The flight had been uneventful—Caroline slept the entire time—and when they landed in Orlando, Samantha wheeled her daughter into the nearest ladies’ room, changed and fed her, then headed for the car rental agency’s booth. She decided to drive to Naples rather than catch a connecting flight because she wanted to think; she needed time to decide how she was going to explain Caroline. Nine months of pregnancy, then nearly eight months of having Caroline all to herself without telling her parents was not going to be easy to explain. And her child’s father? That was a matter for another time; it was a subject she would not discuss with either parent no matter how much they insisted. And she knew they would because that’s just how they were.
She knew the drive from Orlando to Naples took roughly four hours, having made the drive more than once. Samantha prepared to make several stops as she couldn’t feed and change her daughter and drive at the same time, but she would also need the break. The traffic on I-4 was horrendous, and it made her a bit nervous since she hadn’t driven much in the past three years. Forty-five minutes later, she was through the worst of the traffic, noting that even though it was May—not the normal tourist season—Orlando was already packed with tourists wearing their Disney gear, Mickey Mouse ears, and all that went with the whole Disney experience. She would take Caroline as soon as she was old enough to appreciate it, but that was still years away. As she drove out of Orlando, she passed all the theme park billboards, hotels offering family discounts, and restaurants enticing customers by advertising that children could eat free. Samantha smiled. Not much had changed about the tourist traps, but that was Florida. With no real industry to speak of, tourism was it. There was a great deal of competition, and businesses had to do all they could to grab the attention of potential customers. That would never change.
When she reached Tampa, she stopped at a McDonald’s. Caroline perked up as soon as Samantha turned off the engine. Baby jabbering and a toothless smile met Samantha as she took Caroline from her car seat. “You are a cutie, little lady,” Samantha said to her daughter, grabbing the diaper bag and her large tote. Once inside the restaurant, the smell of greasy burgers and fries hit her. She’d craved Mickey D’s cheeseburgers when she was pregnant, and though she’d had a few in her travels as a reporter, none were as tasty as those in America.
She ordered two cheeseburgers, a large fries, and a vanilla milkshake. “We’ll bring it to your table,” the teenage cashier said. This was new, she thought, as she took a metal stand with a number and placed it on her table. Definitely needed, though, as she only had two hands. Another worker pulled a high chair over to her table. Samantha couldn’t remember a fast-food place ever being so accommodating. Times were changing. These were all good changes, too, she thought.
Once she had Caroline in the high chair, she sat in the booth relaxing for a few minutes while she waited for her food. As soon as they brought the tray to her table, Caroline’s little hands waved through the air, knowing it was time to eat. Samantha took a couple fries from the red-and-yellow box and set them aside to cool. With Caroline almost eight months old, Samantha had stopped nursing when the baby reached six months, and had begun to introduce her to real food this last month. She knew fast food wasn’t the healthiest, but figured as a special treat it couldn’t hurt every once in a while.
She opened the yellow wrapper and took a bite of the cheeseburger, rolling her eyes as though digging into a gourmet meal. She ate a few fries, then took a disposable plastic table mat from the diaper bag, stuck it to the table, and placed the fries on it. Caroline grabbed the fries, her tiny hand making a fist as she crammed them into her mouth. Her dark blue eyes, an exact match of Samantha’s, widened at the unexpected taste and texture. Samantha laughed out loud. “I take it you like french fries, little lady,” she said. She broke a few more fries into pieces and waited until Caroline swallowed the mouthful, then placed a few more on the placemat.
Samantha finished off her food, then took a jar of carrots from the diaper bag and fed Caroline the entire contents. “Good girl,” she said as she wiped the bright orange carrot off her daughter’s face. A face that reminded her so much of the man who had changed her life. Stop. Stop, she told herself. It wouldn’t do her any good to go there.
Not now.
She made quick work of cleaning up the table as much as she could, then packed up the bags and took Caroline out of the chair. She slid the contents of the brown tray into the garbage while also holding her child and two bags—a delicate balancing act. Motherhood had taught her a whole new set of skills.
Once she was on I-75, she relaxed a bit as the traffic eased up. Caroline was fast asleep, as she always fell asleep in the car. During the first few weeks after she was born, Samantha had to get Felipe to drive them around during the wee hours of the morning when Caroline had gone through a few colicky nights. This, Samantha knew, was the beginning of her baby’s love of sleeping in a car. Poor Felipe, she thought. He and his wife, Angelica, had been such good friends to her after the baby was born. Hired as her driver in Italy when she’d returned to cover a devastating earthquake, he and Angelica became her anchors on those nights when poor Caroline was a newborn. Having fathered eight children himself, he’d offered so many helpful tips that she wished he and Angelica lived in the States in case she ever needed help with the baby even though she would have her own family nearby.
Once her mom and dad got over the shock of learning they were grandparents, she knew they’d be awesome with Caroline. She’d seen them with her cousins, and they were naturals, just as they’d always been with her. Revealing the secret she’d kept for so long surely wouldn’t be as frightening as she imagined. Or at least that’s what she hoped.
After driving for three and a half hours, Samantha was ready for a break. She pulled into a service station. Though she was able to fill the tank while Caroline slept, Samantha had to wake her since she needed to be changed and was probably ready for a bottle. Although she was almost eight months old and could hold her own bottle, Samantha didn’t feel comfortable letting her do so in the car seat while the car was moving, so she found a small seating area in the back of the station and spent the next twenty minutes feeding her. She grabbed a coffee to go on her way out. She needed a caffeine boost if she planned to make it to Naples without stopping for the night.
Though she was tempted just to stop and spend the night at one of the many hotels just off the interstate, she’d arranged to spend tonight at the bed-and-breakfast, so the owners were expecting her. Also, she’d sent Maria an e-mail telling her where she was staying. She’d made her swear she wouldn’t tell anyone she was in town and promised to have lunch with her at her new house the next day. They’d kept in touch throughout her time in Afghanistan and Europe. Maria was the only person back home who had known that Samantha was pregnant. Since Samantha had left the States, Maria had married and now had a son, Ian, who was just four months old. Samantha was looking forward to seeing her former roommate and meeting her new family. She knew Maria would have plenty of questions for her about the baby and her plans for the future. Samantha would tell her friend as much as she could without giving away too much.
Once she’d settled Caroline back in the car seat, Samantha headed south, counting the minutes until she saw the sign WELCOME TO NAPLES at she entered Collier County.
Forty minutes later, she found the Orange Tree Bed-and-Breakfast and pulled into the driveway. The timing couldn’t have been better. It was six fifteen, which would give her time to get Caroline settled in for the night, then call Maria to let her know she’d arrived safely, just as she’d promised to do in their last e-mail exchange.
Once again, life as she knew it was about to change.
“You look fantastic,” Samantha said as she gave Maria a hug. “If I didn’t know you’d given birth four months ago, I’d never know you just had a baby,” she observed. Maria, with her dark hair styled in a sleek bob, her makeup as perfect as it’d been when they’d lived together, hadn’t changed a bit.
Samantha stepped inside the airy foyer and hugged her friend as best she could with a baby in one hand and a diaper bag in the other.
“Or you,” Maria added, pulling her in and grabbing the diaper bag. “Hard to believe we’re both moms now.”
“I know,” Samantha agreed.
They were having lunch at Maria’s house. It would give them time to talk, and easily take care of their babies’ needs. “I’ll take this little beauty off your hands,” Maria said, relieving Samantha of her daughter. “I don’t have time to go to the gym anymore. A trip out with Ian is enough of a workout for me these days.”
“Never thought of it that way, but it makes sense,” Samantha said, laughing. “I’ve developed arm muscles since Caroline’s birth.”
“Let me have a look at this little gal,” Maria said, holding Caroline away from her. “She’s beautiful! Has your eyes. Her olive coloring is definitely not from you—you’re still as pale as a ghost.”
“Still queen of sunscreen, nothing new there. Of course, I knew you’d say that, so before you ask any more questions, her father’s Italian. That’s all I’m saying,” Caroline announced to head off any more discussion of the subject. Her daughter’s thick black hair and olive complexion were a complete contrast to her own. Then there were the dark blue eyes. Those are definitely from me, she thought as she remembered a set of deep brown eyes, so dark they looked black at times. Eyes that she’d loved. Still love. Don’t go there, Sam. Not today.
“You okay?” Maria asked.
“I am. Now, you haven’t introduced me to Ian, and I’m dying to meet the little guy. Who knows, maybe these two will end up being best friends like us,” she added, hoping to direct the conversation away from Caroline’s father.
“As soon as he wakes up from his nap, if that’s okay?” Maria replied. “He wasn’t a good sleeper last night.”
“Colicky?”
“I think he was just awake and wanted to check out the world. I set up Ian’s Pack ’n Play for Caroline if you want to put her down for a bit,” Maria added.
“Grand idea. She’s about due for her midmorning nap.”
Maria returned Caroline to her mother. “I’ll get us a glass of tea; the Pack ’n Play is in the dining room right around the corner.”
Samantha made fast work of settling her daughter into the portable Pack ’n Play. “I need one of these,” she said under her breath.
After settling Caroline in, she found Maria in the kitchen, where yummy scents filled the room. The kitchen was modern, with marble counters, white cupboards with black-and-white subway tiles on the wall space behind the countertops. The dishes were bright yellow, and Samantha noticed many accent pieces in the same shade.
“You cook now?” Caroline asked incredulously. “I didn’t know you knew how to cook, unless it was a frozen microwave meal.”
Maria gestured for her to sit at a small table in a corner of the large kitchen.
“When I was pregnant, I had a few issues with sugar and salt, so I decided I’d learn to cook. Found I loved tinkering around in the kitchen, and well, here I am. I hope you still like shrimp,” she said as she removed a bright yellow bowl from the refrigerator.
“Of course I still love shrimp,” Samantha answered. “Just because I’ve bee. . .
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