Seconds to Live(44)

“Thought it was time for a change,” Mac said.

Grant nodded in approval. He still wore his blond hair in an army-buzz. “Hannah’s on her way.”

The back door flew open, and seven-year-old Carson ran into the house at full speed, directly into Mac’s legs. His golden retriever barked behind him as he flung both arms around Mac’s thighs. Mac shifted Faith to one hip to hug his nephew. The toddler kicked his gunshot wound, and he sucked wind. That local anesthetic could only do so much.

“Let me take her.” Grant held out his arms, and Faith tried to leap to him. “That’s my girl.” Mac was still amazed by Grant. Not that his tough, career-soldier brother had given up his military future with no regrets to raise his niece and nephew, but that he was so good at parenting and clearly happier than Mac had ever seen him.

Grant put Faith on his hip. “You all right?” he asked Mac. “She didn’t do any damage?”

“I’m fine, just thankful she hates shoes.” Mac put a hand on his side. He set the other on Carson’s shoulder. “What have you been doing?”

“Me and AnnaBelle are catching frogs in the creek.” Carson’s blond hair was too long, sun-streaked, and speckled with mud. More mud coated his bare feet and legs, and he’d left a grimy trail on the hardwood.

“Sounds like fun.” Mac meant it.

“It is.” The little boy pushed away, grabbed Mac’s hand, and tugged. “Wanna come?”

Mac would much rather play in the mud than talk about their father’s funeral. He glanced at Grant.

A smile spread across his brother’s face. “Go ahead. I’ll let you know when Hannah gets here.”

Carson sprinted for the back door, leaving more smears across the hardwood and a few flecks on the walls.

“Me.” Faith pushed away from Grant’s chest and reached for Mac.

“I don’t know.” Grant frowned. “She’s liable to eat the frogs.”

She turned sad baby blues on Mac, betrayal and hurt quivering her upper lip and misting her eyes. “Wanna go.”

“She’s going to win an Oscar someday.” Mac hesitated. The enthusiasm from the kids was overwhelming, and the ache in his gut was nowhere near his injury.

Grant rubbed her back. “The kids miss you.”

And Mac couldn’t say no. He took the toddler. “A little extra protein won’t hurt her.”

Ellie stopped them on the way out the back door, offering Mac a pair of tiny white sandals.

He laughed. “We both know she won’t keep them on, so why ruin them?”

“Watch her feet, then. Rocks and sticks can be sharp. And she will put anything—and I mean anything—into her mouth,” Ellie said. “Maybe I should come with you. A toddler can drown in two inches of water.”

Faith blinked innocent, pleading, blue eyes at Mac.

“We won’t be out too long, and I promise not to take my eyes off her for a second.”

How hard could this be?

Twenty minutes later, all three of them were soaked, creek slime coated Faith from her wispy blonde hair to the soles of her tiny feet, and Mac was in awe of his brother and Ellie. How did they manage these kids all day, every day? Twenty minutes of keeping rocks and bugs out of Faith’s mouth had been exhausting. He grabbed his boots from the bank and herded the kids out of the shallow water. They trooped back to the house, content and filthy.

“Sorry.” Mac turned on the hose. “We really don’t have any other options. We are disgusting.”

“Yay.” Faith raced through the spray.

“You have mud on your eyebrow, Uncle Mac.” Carson broad jumped into a puddle on the grass.

Mac sprayed his calves and feet and rolled down the cuffs of his cargo pants. Hosing down the kids was like trying to hit metal ducks in a carnival game. He shut off the faucet. “I guess that’s as clean as you’re going to get.”

Laughter erupted from the back porch. Carrying two beach towels, Grant met them at the bottom of the steps. He tossed one to Carson and spread the other wide between his arms. Faith raced into it, giggling. Grant’s face lit up.

“How much mud did she eat?” Grant cocooned Faith in a towel and scooped her into his arms. Tossing her over his shoulder, he turned toward the house. High-pitched, happy baby squeals pierced the evening.

Mac rubbed Carson down to make sure he didn’t drip in the house. “Not enough to ruin her dinner.”

Carson gave his legs an ineffectual swipe with the towel. “Uncle Mac says there are poisonous frogs in South America. They’re only this big.” He held his forefinger and thumb close together. “And they have enough poison in them to kill ten men.” His eyes widened.