Chapter 2


An hour later, Cruz sat on his bed; tears ran down his face as he re-read Elsa's words at least three times afraid he'd miss something. He didn't know why but he felt incredibly heartsick. Elsa had found out she was pregnant a week after he left for Somalia. She'd tried to contact him but her letters bounced back, emails had been sent but he hadn't had access to the internet.

After a deployment, he usually didn't plug into the internet until he was well rested and spoken to his family. But the call for Nathan James to be deployed to the Arctic had been rushed so he only ended up with time to wash his uniforms and reboard the Nathan James. Now he wished he had because he would have known. He would have given her his mother's number so she wasn't alone with him gone.

She hadn't given up on him coming back and wanting to know his daughter. She made it clear that she hadn't wanted to give her up because she always wanted kids but never knew when and suddenly she was pregnant and she had no good reasons just a strong desire to see the pregnancy through and raise their child.

He felt the joy in her words, but also the sadness as she spoke about how she ended up sick with the virus. The grief of knowing she was dying and all the things she would miss out. The things she wanted to see and experience that would never be. It broke his heart as he wanted her to be a part of it but knew she couldn't. It just wasn't fair. He felt his own grief because even though they were just casually dating he still deeply cared for her and now she was gone forever. All he had now was the letter, a few pieces of jewellery and photos.

He also had Clara, he looked over to his daughter finally accepting that she was his, that he was responsible for her life and her happiness. The panic of trying to keep his old life and career subsided as he realised he had to make some changes. He would have to talk to Master Chief and the Captain to see how he could retain his enlistment and still serve just in a different capacity. He just wasn't ready to give up his career completely just yet. There had to be some kind of middle ground to be found.

Clara stirred awake and made a cranky noise. Cruz wiped his forearm across his face and sniffed as he pulled his emotions in. He pushed off the bed and tickled Clara's tummy.. Kids like that... he thought as he figured it would earn him a smile but she scrunched up her face and made a small whimper, something that he had a feeling was a buildup to crying.

"What do you need?" he asked her, he knew she wouldn't answer him. He wished she would because it would make life easier. He lifted her up and checked her diaper and caught a whiff of bad news for him. "Yeah, Ok, Message received." he told her as Clara gave a loud wail. "Ok, just chill out." he told her as he wrapped her into his arms and laid her head on his shoulder before he rubbed her back in a soothing manner that was more for his sake than her.


The next day,

A very sleep deprived Cruz held Clara in his arms and looked around the baby shop completely gobsmacked. The place was as big as Walmart in not bigger. He couldn't help but wonder how a kid possibly need so much stuff. It was mind boggling given Clara woke him up a total of 6 times throughout the night and early morning. She however seemed perfectly rested which made no sense to him.

Actually nothing made sense to him even after his 3rd coffee. He didn't know how parents decided to have a kid on purpose let alone more than one kid after one night with Clara nearly killed him. He knew his roommates weren't exactly enraptures over Clara's first night either. But they kept it to themselves before making going about their days leaving Cruz to deal with parenthood on his own.

"Why hello there, and how are we today?" A petite woman in her late thirties with a coiffured brunette bob and a smile that was so sugary it made Cruz's teeth hurt to look at her. She obviously worked in the shop as she wore white and black plaid capri pants, a purple polo shirt with a white cardigan that sported not only a name tag but the store's logo.

"Ah, lost." Cruz said, he could kill a man 20 different ways, clean and strip down a semi automatic rifle blindfolded and put it back together in under a minute. He'd been in combat but being in the Baby warehouse had him quaking in his boots.

"Well, don't you worry Mr Dad," The shop woman said as she gave his arm a playful tap. "We can get you sorted out today. Now my name is Cheryl," she pointed to her tag. The woman was perky as hell for 9am on a Saturday. "And who is this Cutie?" she asked gesturing to Clara.

"Clara." Cruz supplied.

"How old is this cutie?" She asked as she looked between him and Clara.

"5 weeks." Cruz said, he gently cupped the back of Clara's head as she bopped his shoulder hard trying to get comfortable.

"Oh, Just adorable and is Mrs Mom with you today?" she asked him.

"No, she's having some free time" Cruz was about to say there was no 'Mrs Mum' but there was a glint of interest in the woman's eyes and her syrupy voice that made him uncomfortable to disclose it.

"Well, aren't you a keeper! Why don't we get you in and out as efficiently as we can. I know how you men hate to dawdle." She said before giving a fruity laugh.

"Ok, well we lost everything in the move. I just have a bassinet and some clothes, diapers and stuff. My wife made a list but I lost it. She said we needed like everything." Cruz offered as he had no clue.

"Wow, how terrible. Not to worry, why don't we get you a baby carrier." Cheryl told him.

"Baby Carrier?" Cruz asked her blankly as he was so sleep deprived the first thought he had was of an aircraft carrier ship which didn't make sense to him. She blinked at him for a moment before she made assumed he was joking and smiled.

"Aren't you just hysterical." She said with a laugh as she motioned for him to follow her.


Cruz felt like his baby carrier was more of a torture device than a help as Clara screamed directly up into his face. She had started to get cranky on the drive back but now she was in full meltdown mode as her diaper was ripe and she probably needed a nap. Hell, Cruz needed a nap after enduring the nightmare of shopping for Baby stuff. At least he had a crib coming in and play pen along with a few other key furniture pieces he would need in the coming months. It would be delivered in a few hours while he still had to hump up groceries and baby clothes and other sundries.

He figured, he could carry all the bags plus Clara up to the apartment but now trying to open the front door was a task. He managed to get the keys out but as soon as he tried to put them in the door; the keys slipped and fell to the floor. He really wanted to smack his head against the door and groan in frustration but he didn't, instead he dropped the bags and was about to reach for the keys when a woman appeared seeming out of nowhere.

"Here, let me help you." she said as she picked the keys off the floor and opened the door for him. Cruz looked at her completely stunned as she was 5ft 8, lithe woman with messy brown mid length hair and olive skin.

She wore a leather motorcycle jacket over a loose white tank and green skinny jeans that accentuated her curves in all the right ways even his sleep deprived brain too note.

He looked to her face and found her strikingly beautiful, until she brushed her fringe out of the way and he noticed the scars on the left side of her face. It looked like someone had taken a knife to her temple and dragged it down and around her occipital bone to just the middle below her eye before striking up as the scar bisected part of her eyebrow. Her left eye, upper and lower eyelid were still intact but her left iris and pupil were milky white. The scars looked less than a few months old, while the right side of her face was completely unmarred, her right eye was a light golden brown colour.

It wasn't that he found the scars or the obvious blindness in her left eye ugly but that it made him made that someone would hurt a woman. She must of seen his anger, and quickly covered the left side of her face. It made him feel like an asshole for being thrown by it and making her feel like she had to hide herself.

"Sorry-" he started but she cut him off.

"Forget it, just take your kid inside and deal with her." she said as she gestured for him to get into the apartment.

"Thank you." he said to her sincerely over Clara who was screaming her lungs out making her displeasure known. He moved into the apartment and felt bad as the woman even dragged in the bags he had planned to go back for inside the apartment.

"No problem, just take care of yourselves. Ok." She told him, he watched as she pulled the keys from the front door and tossed them on kitchen counter before she pulled the front door closed.

Cruz looked to Clara who was still screaming at him and undid the straps of the papoose. "How is it you're docile and cute for the grandmas and horny pregnant ladies who want to pinch my ass but a crying mess when it comes to the hot ones?" he asked in a light tone as he went to his room with her.

Clara grew silent and her tiny bottom lip quivered as tears ran down her face. Obviously she was preparing for another round of trying blow out his eardrums. "I know, you want a dry diaper and a nap. I got it. I'm sorry we were out too late." he said feeling guilty about making Clara upset and not knowing her cues.

He quickly changed her diaper, something that he was getting pretty skilled at and brought her into his arms and held her as he moved to the kitchen to get her a bottle. He'd read a book that said babies slept better on a full stomach and they were soothed by the suckling action of drinking. Clara made whimpering noises as she rubbed her face on his shirt. "I know, we'll get you some food and then nap time." he told her before he pressed a kiss on the top of his head.


"Hi, sorry I'm late. Car trouble." Ava Callahan lied as she brushed past Preacher who was talking to their newest client. Preacher who's real name was Lionel wore a patient smile as he knew she lived upstairs because he was the super for the building. Frankly, she was so good at her job that being 5 minutes late was forgivable.

But then they were co-owners of their Tattoo shop 'Bespoke Ink'. They didn't pick the name, it just belonged to the previous owner who died from the pandemic. They of course bought the property together and renovated and upgraded the place so instead of it looking like a dingy crap hole that said 'Get your Hep B with us'. It was now a pristine, clean looking hipster joint that attracted all kinds of clientele including the elusive soccer mums who wanted a naughty tattoo.

It had exposed brick walls, black and white tiling on the floors. The front desk was an old bar they pulled out of an abandoned building a few blocks away. They did it up so it looked good as new yet still rustic with bar stools so people could wait and peruse their art books for tattoo ideas. They had a mini bar behind the bar and a coffee machine so it was welcoming as well as splashes of colour around the place just to break up the neutral colours. Then there was a small hallway that led to four doors. Two of which lead to hers and Preacher's work rooms, another to the bathroom and fourth was a fire exit.

She loved the place, and it was situated in a trendy neighbourhood near restaurants, bars and a supermarket. She lived in the renovated warehouse next door so it was perfect. She also loved her partner Preacher. He was a 40 year old retired marine, 6 ft 5 pure muscle and tattoos that no one dared to mess with. He'd saved her from scavengers when the pandemic had torn the country to pieces and they ended up travelling to St Louis together. He was the only man who didn't see the scars on her face first or write her off as victim or a fixer upper but then he was the one who'd stitched her face up after what the scavengers done to her. Their relationship was weird dynamic as she loved him like a brother but also as the father she had lost as he held so many of the same traits the males in life had.

"No problem. Rover." Preacher said calling her by the nickname he'd called her on the road. He gestured to the man standing in their front reception area. "This is Rick Miller and he would like a tattoo." he told Ava.

"How refreshing." Ava teased as she pulled off her jacket and hung it over the chair and doubled checked her hair was covering the left side of her face before she greeted her newest client. He was tall, very pale redheaded man who looked to be in his early twenties. He still had a baby face but his eager expression at getting inked reminded her of a Labrador puppy.

"So you first timer?" Ava asked Rick.

"Yeah," He said with a smile.

"He's signed all the waivers and I explained the pricing ranges etc. So he's all yours as my 2pm should be here soon." Preacher said, he left them to go to his room to set it up as he was colouring in a tattoo of a long term client of theirs. After he was gone, Ava looked to Rick.

"So what would you like permanently tattooed to your body?" She asked, she hated this part of the job as she knew people had definite thoughts of what they wanted permanently inked on their body but Ava despised generic designs or images pulled off google. She also had no problem losing business over it too which she knew it made her a bad business owner but she liked people to walk out feeling like they were special, that their tattoo was art that reflected who they were.

"This." He said as he pulled out napkin with a crudely drawn ship's anchor symbol. "I want on my back, big." he told her. Eden pressed a hand to her lips and looked at it thoughtfully for a moment.

"Really?" She asked, she felt like everyone was getting anchor tattoo because of the naval ship the Nathan James appearing with a cure for the virus.

"Yeah, why?" Rick asked looking taken back, she gave him a kind smile.

"Honestly, it's a little generic and overdone as a tattoo." she told him, she watched his face fall and felt a little bad as he reminded her of a puppy. "But look, Preacher explained to you that I have a process right?" she asked him.

"Yeah," Miller said.

"I like my clients to walk out knowing that what they are inked with is theirs and it speaks to who they are. I want them years from now to be able and look back and still like what they see on their skin. So I can incorporate the anchor into your tattoo design. If you don't like it then Preacher can hook you up with what you want. But if you want me then, you have to stick out my process." She told him, she could see him perk up a little at her words as she picked up her pen and art book and opened it to blank page. "So why don't you tell me a bit of your story and see if we can come up with a tattoo that's more you." she added.

"Ah, ok." he said a little apprehensively but cooperating as he pulled up a chair and sat down. She gave a smile grateful that he was willing to let her design a tattoo for him. He started talking and she started drawing on the page.