A Mother's Secret (9 page)

“I’m not your father.”

“No, you’re
his
father.”

He shook his head. “So you really don’t believe a divorced couple can provide stability and love without one of them giving up rights to the children.”

Flushed, Rebecca said, “Of course I know it’s possible to…well…at least do better than my parents did. But you have to admit, growing up while hopping between Mom’s and Dad’s isn’t ideal.”

“Growing up without a father isn’t ideal, either,” he said flatly.

Rebecca stared. “You do care, don’t you?”

He carefully laid down his fork. “About Malcolm? And whether he grows up thinking I don’t give a damn?” A muscle in his cheek jerked. “Yeah. I care.”

“Oh,” she said softly, her greatest fear yanked out from under her as if it had been a rug. The floor beneath was hard and unyielding. “I thought, maybe, you just wanted him because you were angry at me. And because he’s yours.”

“I’m not…” He stopped, briefly closed his eyes. “No.
I can’t say I’m not angry. I am. But I suppose, uh, I can understand why you ran the way you did.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. Her heart felt squeezed in a vise.

“Anger won’t help us cooperate for Malcolm’s sake.”

“No.” Still, her voice came out as a thin thread. “It won’t.”

“Will it help if I promise never to use him to get at you?”

She bobbed her head.

“I won’t criticize you to him. I can promise that much.”

She barely hesitated. “I won’t, either. I mean, you to him.”

“Is he ready to find out I’m his father?”

She wanted, so desperately, to lie. “Maybe,” she said, her voice low. “Yes.”

He nodded, watching her. “I can be patient.”

She did know, all too well. With difficulty, she said, “Maybe it’s not Malcolm I’ve been waiting for.”

“Maybe it’s not.”

“You have been nice,” she admitted, almost inaudibly.

“I’m not the bastard you seem to think I am.” He uttered a sound that might have been a laugh. “Funny, when it turns out I am a bastard after all.”

“I’m sorry,” Rebecca said, painfully aware of how inadequate the words were.

Daniel shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. It’s not as if Vern was a devoted dad.”

“If he had been…well, then he would have been your father in every way that counted, wouldn’t he? No matter what the DNA test says. And then this…well, maybe this really wouldn’t have mattered to you.”

He stared at her for a moment. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “I suppose that’s true.”

“This Robert Carson might not have had any idea you were his. Unless…” She frowned. “Do you look like him?”

He shook his head. “Joe does. The jaw, the shape of his face…I have my mother’s coloring, which muddied the waters.”

“You passed it on to Malcolm.”

“Except for the eyes. He has your eyes.”

She nodded. “But every time I looked at him, I saw you.”

“I didn’t forget you,” he said unexpectedly. “Every couple of months, I thought about calling you.”

“But you never did, or you would have known I moved.”

“No. I’d pick up the phone, but…No.”

It wasn’t any mystery why he hadn’t called. He must have sensed that she had fallen in love with him. Perhaps he hadn’t gotten bored with her at all; it might only be that since he didn’t share her feelings, he thought it best to make sure she didn’t expect something that wouldn’t happen. But then…why had he considered calling her? He met other women all the time. With his powerful build, riveting light eyes and commanding presence, finding a new lover wouldn’t be much of a challenge for him. So why had he ever given her another thought?

She wanted to know, and she didn’t. It would hurt to find out that all he’d missed about her was the sex. Yes, the attraction between them had always been potent. It was still there, a tug he obviously felt, too. But later she’d realized that her helpless response wasn’t just physical. Any slight tenderness in his eyes, the gentleness of his touch—or the sheer desperation she sometimes awakened in him—had wrenched her emotions and meant she had given herself to him utterly.

Consciously, he may never have known she was his, heart and soul, but on some level he must have been aware. She had given him more than most women would or could. Maybe that had just plain made the sex better.

Looking at him across the table, Rebecca thought,
I can’t do that again. I
can’t.
I have to remember how much it hurt when he started making excuses. When I made the choice to disappear
. And then,
No matter what, I can’t let myself be tempted
.

And so, she didn’t ask why.
Why didn’t you call? Why did you keep thinking about me?
Wouldn’t ask.

“You might start thinking about how often you’ll want to see Malcolm. We should agree on a parenting plan to…to avoid trouble later.”

“I can do that. Just remember, I’m prepared to take this slowly. I’m not going to push our son into anything he isn’t ready for.”

Our
son. Her womb cramped at the acknowledgment that they had made a child together.

She managed to nod. “Okay. Thank you.”

Lines deepening on his forehead, Daniel asked, “Did we accomplish anything here? Whatever you hoped for?”

“Yes.” Rebecca offered him a smile that was still complicated, still crooked, but more genuine than any that had yet curved her mouth today. “I needed reassurance.”

“I’m…not a jackass.”

Why the hesitation? Because he didn’t want to use the word
bastard
again, not in reference to himself?

But she didn’t let herself wonder long.

By unspoken agreement, as they sipped their coffee neither mentioned Malcolm or family. Daniel talked about the economy and the impact fears of recession were hav
ing on the price of houses. She told him about a twin she had in her class, who kept almost entirely to himself.

“Putting Sean and Ian in separate classes hasn’t helped. Sean might be slightly more social, but not much. I worry. They can’t possibly be enough for each other.”

“They’re identical?”

She nodded.

“Somewhere I read about a set of identical twins who married identical twins. It was as if only people like them could truly understand them.”

She shivered. “Or who didn’t need real intimacy themselves, because they already had it with their own twin. Ugh. I’m not sure you’ve made me feel any better.”

“But maybe they
are
content, unto themselves.”

“Maybe.”

What about him? Rebecca wondered a minute later as he ushered her out of the restaurant. Was
he
content, entirely unto himself?

Probably, she thought bleakly, he’d eventually meet the love of his life. Why should she assume he was solitary by nature or choice, just because he hadn’t fallen in love with her?

Malcolm
. Focus on Malcolm. It was her funny, smart son that mattered, not her own wounded ego.

“Where are you parked?” Daniel asked.

She gestured. “I’m just a couple of blocks—”

“I’ll walk you.” His tone made plain that argument wouldn’t dissuade him.

She didn’t say much as they traversed the city sidewalks, and neither did he. But the entire way, she was nerve-pricklingly aware of him beside her, strolling to match her shorter stride. Rebecca wished she knew what
he’d been like as a little boy. Had he been as verbal as Malcolm? Quieter, more guarded? If he’d felt unloved, how had he acquired the confidence that was as much a part of him as the color of his eyes or the strength in his big hands? If only his brother Adam was still alive, she would have had someone she could ask, but now there was no one. Something told her that Vernon Kane, the man who’d given Daniel his name, knew him less than even she did.

They reached her car. Rebecca dug her keys out of her purse and faced Daniel.

“Thank you for making time for me today.”

He frowned, but so briefly she thought she might have imagined it. Or as if he was annoyed at himself, not her. “It wasn’t a problem.”

“We haven’t made any plans,” she said awkwardly.

“No. I wasn’t sure what to suggest next.” He moved his shoulders in a shrug, or maybe just a gesture of discomfiture. “I have no idea what little boys enjoy doing.”

She blinked. Daniel, unsure of himself? “But…
you
were a little boy.”

He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “A long time ago. And I’ve got to tell you, I don’t have many memories from before—”

He shut up so quickly, she guessed. “Your dad left?”

“
Vern
left,” he corrected her.

“Oh. Well…Mal likes story times, and playgrounds, and the beach.” Daniel already knew that. “The zoo. We should go to the zoo one of these times.” Not
we
, she realized, her heart sinking.
He
should take Malcolm to the zoo. That was the kind of thing he would enjoy enough to make up for her absence. Then inspiration struck her. “Could you show us your job site in El Granada? He really
is enamored of big trucks these days. And bulldozers. I’ll bet he’d love to see it now, and then later once the houses are going up.”

Daniel nodded, relaxing. “Sure. How about Saturday? We could have lunch down at Princeton-by-the-Sea. Maybe go for a walk on the breakwater.”

She smiled. “Mal would love that.”

They agreed on a time. Before she could become self-conscious, Daniel bent his head and kissed her cheek.

“Thanks,” he murmured, voice gravelly and pitched for her ears only. Then he walked away, leaving her to stare after him and press her hand to her cheek.

Wondering—oh, no!—what he would have done if she’d happened to turn her head just then, and their mouths had met instead.

What a fool she was.

“T
HAT
’
S REAL BIG
.” Malcolm eyed the bulldozer with respect. The gaze he turned on Daniel was more calculating. “It’s
your
bulldozer?”

With rueful amusement, Daniel felt his chest swell with pride.
Yes, my son, behold: all that you see is mine and will someday be yours.

So to speak. Of course, the houses and the lots they sat on would have long since sold and these particular pieces of equipment would be rusting in a junkyard by the time he left his construction empire to his son. And, of course, there was an excellent chance Malcolm wouldn’t be interested in his father’s line of work. Hell, the kid might want to be a rock star or a marine biologist.

Or an attorney. He had the gift of the gab, and the broad, innocent smile calculated to get him his way.

“Can
I
drive it?”

Standing with her hands on his shoulders, Rebecca moved involuntarily but didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to, not with the narrow-eyed way she was pinning Daniel with her stare.

“I’m afraid not. You’re way too small right now. But I’ll tell you what.” Daniel smiled back at the boy. “I can lift you up to the seat, and I’ll show you what the levers and pedals do.”

“Really?” The boy’s eyes were wide with awe.

Daniel swung first Malcolm up, then himself. He explained that he couldn’t start the engine because he didn’t have the key with him, then gave simple instructions for operating the dozer. His son listened, asked questions and said, “Boy, I wish Chace could see me now.
His
dad drives a truck, and he’s always bragging. But this is way better!”

Waiting patiently on the bare ground, Rebecca stifled a laugh. Daniel just grinned and ruffled the kid’s hair, surprised at how easily the casual gesture came to him. “Glad I can give you bragging rights.”

He jumped down, dirt puffing around his feet, and reached up for Malcolm, who was already asking, “What’s ‘rights’? Does that just mean something to brag about?”

“Something
better
to brag about,” his mother said, her eyes still laughing even though her mouth was solemn enough.

Malcolm’s feet had barely touched the ground when he said, “I don’t see any houses. Mom says there’s gonna be houses here.”

The tour was every bit the success Rebecca had predicted. The four-year-old loved climbing up on the now-dry foundation of the first house and walking around inside. He insisted on Daniel showing them where the bathrooms and kitchen would be.

“And it’s gonna have windows, right? And kids’ bedrooms?”

Daniel explained that many of these houses would be owned by couples who didn’t have children at home. “Mostly,” he explained, “people whose kids have already grown up. And maybe some who are busy with their jobs and don’t have any yet.”

“Like Mom was, before me.”

Daniel was careful not to look at Rebecca. “Uh…right. Like your Mom was.”

Malcolm skipped a couple of steps, then turned back to Daniel. “Do you think these houses would be big enough for people with one kid? Like me?”

Daniel shrugged. Who needed a home office? “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

“Or maybe two? Sometimes,” Malcolm confided, “I wish I had a brother or maybe a sister. My friend Josh has a new baby sister. She cries a lot, but you can tell she really likes him. Sometimes she’ll quit crying just ’cuz he talks to her. I might like it if Mom’s tummy would get big like Josh’s mommy’s did, and then she’d have another baby.”

Daniel couldn’t help it. His gaze went to Rebecca, leaning against the rough concrete of the foundation, and to her slender waist. He had a vivid, erotic memory of rubbing his cheek against her taut stomach, tickling her belly button with his tongue before moving his mouth lower, to the silky vee of brown hair. God help him, he imagined that belly swollen with child.
His
child. And this time, when he laid his cheek against her stomach, he might feel a mysterious ripple. Life created by them.

He had a hard-on, just like that. Worse, his chest felt as if it were being squeezed in a vise. He would have given anything to see her pregnant with his son.

He would give anything to see her pregnant again, with another child. His child.

He should have turned away, but he couldn’t make himself. He lifted his gaze from her stomach to her face and saw that she was watching him, not Malcolm. He would have sworn she’d been remembering, just as he was.
Maybe imagining, too. It didn’t help to see the turbulence in her brown eyes, the flush on her cheeks.

Gripping Daniel’s hand, Malcolm was jumping, counting on this new friend to keep him steady. He kept talking, too, but Daniel didn’t hear a word he said. He was unable to look away from Malcolm’s mother, the one woman he’d never been able to forget. He wanted, with a grinding hunger, to see her naked, to find out what marks motherhood had left on her body, to cover that body with his, to claim her.

Rebecca finally bent her head until a curtain of thick brown hair hid her face. Daniel gritted his teeth and turned away, stunned to have been hit so hard by desire. Desire awakened by the idea of impregnating her. And he knew damn well that she’d seen on his face exactly what he was thinking.

Not the way to convince her that she could relax around him, trust him with her son. She’d made plain that she thought he was a son of a bitch, not someone she wanted influencing Malcolm. He might have blown all the progress he’d made, Daniel thought.

Assuming that progress had been real, given how low in general her regard for men was.

He couldn’t remember ever feeling as violent toward anyone as he did toward her father, who by failing to keep his pants zipped had set in motion a miserable childhood for both his daughters. Daniel was glad she had no contact with her father, glad he wouldn’t eventually have to be civil at some unintended meeting.

But, damn, it did piss him off to know she saw him as no better than the SOB.

His brows drew together as he let Malcolm tug him toward the concrete slab that would be the two-car garage.
Ironic, wasn’t it, that his own biological father was another man who hadn’t been able to keep his pants zipped. He, at least, had claimed to love Jo Fraser, as well as his own wife, or so Sarah Carson had believed. Sarah had been able to forgive her husband and hold on to their marriage, but Daniel wondered if she’d have changed her tune if she had known he hadn’t severed ties with Jo, that in fact he’d fathered yet another child with her seventeen years later.

Goddamn it, Mom, why didn’t you talk to us? Why didn’t you tell us what you felt, what you thought? Why you loved him enough to give up all chance at a normal life? Enough to give up one of your children?

What would it be like to live in sunny confidence that other people meant well? He and Rebecca, damaged at an early age, would never be lucky enough to find out. Anyway, it made sense that Rebecca
wanted
to believe he was no better than her own father. How else could she justify her decision to keep his son from him?

Reluctantly, Daniel was coming to believe she really had been frightened, not selfish. Nature made mothers of any species fierce when protecting their young. Right now, it must be killing her to sit, looking at rough concrete as though she cared about the texture, when in reality every fiber of her being was focused on her son, and on monitoring how careful Daniel was with him.

She owes it to me.

He wasn’t sure he believed that anymore. She’d been as screwed up by her parents’ form of love as he’d been by the lack of love. Considering her fears, she’d raised an amazing kid.

Would he be doing them both a favor to walk away? It wasn’t as if he had the slightest idea how to be a father.

The thought was agonizing enough to draw a hoarse sound from him.

Was that what Robert Carson had decided, when he found out Jo was pregnant again? Had he believed his son would be better off without him? Had Jo told him another man was courting her, wanted to marry her?

Daniel looked down at the boy’s freckled face, so like his own at that age, and felt his resolve harden.

Guess what, Dad? I wasn’t better off without you. Neither was Adam. You screwed up big-time.

No, he wouldn’t be going anywhere. His son would know his father. Somehow, eventually, Daniel would convince Rebecca that he wouldn’t hurt Malcolm. Which might be a tough sell, when he was beginning to wonder how much he’d hurt her.

Or was he flattering himself to believe she’d cared enough about him to be open to hurt?

“S
UE CALLED TODAY
,” J
OE SAID
over dinner at his house. “She’s pregnant.”

Pip, smiling, had obviously heard the news. “I’m so glad for her and Rick.”

Sue Bookman had been a friend of Joe’s back in their high school days. Joe had admitted once to being in love with her. Daniel suspected they were both relieved they hadn’t had sex, now that they’d found out they were first cousins. He pictured her face from Christmas, when she had told him she’d like to know him better. Pretty, in a straightforward way that didn’t depend much on makeup. And she had the unusual combination of blond hair and deep brown eyes. Joe had assured him the blond part was natural.

“Given that she’s the one who fosters all the babies,”
Daniel said, “at least she’s not stumbling blindly into parenthood.”

Pip laughed. “Unlike me.” Her soft gaze found her husband. “Fortunately, I can depend on Joe’s expertise.”

Daniel took a bite while they exchanged a sappy look. He wanted to be cynical about it, but couldn’t help hoping theirs was the love match it appeared. Joe wanted a wife and kids and a home. The failure of his first marriage had hit him hard.

“We have an announcement of our own,” Joe said, reaching across the table to take his wife’s hand.

Daniel raised his brows.

Pip’s face glowed. “I had an ultrasound. We’re having a boy.”

Joe’s voice deepened as he said, “We’re going to name him Adam.”

Daniel looked from their faces to their linked hands. His vision seemed to have blurred and he’d developed a lump in his throat. It was a long moment before he trusted himself to speak clearly. “Naming him after Adam…That’s, uh, a really nice thing to do.”

“I wish Dad could have known—” Joe’s throat must have clogged, too, the way he stopped so suddenly.

“Yeah. Me, too,” Daniel said, inarticulate but knowing he was understood. He stood and circled the table to squeeze Joe’s shoulder and kiss Pip on the cheek.

Kaitlin might have wrinkled her nose and said they were being gooey. Daniel suspected she would be, too, when she heard the news. She had loved her Grandpa Adam.

Daniel resumed his seat and Joe said, “You’ve met Sue’s fiancé a couple of times. Rick seems like a great guy. He
had a daughter before who died, so having another child of his own has got to mean even more to him than usual. Sue was crying when she called me.”

Pip, perhaps involuntarily, laid both hands over her stomach as if to protect the child.

Shocked, Daniel wondered what it would be like to have your child die. He was staggered by the horror when he pictured losing Malcolm, and he hadn’t raised him from birth. He could only imagine how utterly Rebecca would be destroyed. And protecting your family was innate for most men. To not be able to save your own child…God.

The conversation had moved on while he brooded. Pip was grumbling because Sue apparently wasn’t having any morning sickness. “Everyone should have to suffer,” she declared, but with an impishness that told him she didn’t really mean it.

Daniel had found himself sneaking peeks at her all evening. Her pregnancy wasn’t blatant yet, but there was a gentle curve and her hands occasionally fluttered down to protect that small bulge. Pregnant women used to make him uncomfortable, for reasons he still hadn’t quite identified. Since he found out Rebecca had carried his child, he’d become weirdly fascinated. Could Malcolm really have been so tiny, he was barely a bulge in Rebecca’s stomach? Had she, too, laid her hands on the minute movements inside her while her eyes grew dreamy? Damn it, he was jealous of Joe, able to casually touch his pregnant wife. And now this Rick, who would be there from the beginning as Sue bore their baby.

The men helped Pip clear the table but, at her insistence, left her loading the dishwasher and sat down again with mugs of coffee.

“Since I’m not supposed to have any,” she had said, inhaling the aroma of the cup she’d just poured for her husband. Apparently caffeine in any significant amount wasn’t recommended for pregnant women.

Stirring cream into his, Daniel belatedly heard the question Joe had just asked him.

“Have I considered marrying her?” His teeth ground together and he set down his cup so hard the coffee splashed. “What the hell do you think?”

His big, dark-haired nephew watched him, narrow-eyed over his own cup. “It does make sense.”

Flailing more against himself than Joe, Daniel said, “As much sense as your first marriage.”

“You wouldn’t have married Rebecca if she’d told you back then that she was pregnant?”

Daniel scowled, then scrubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah. I would have married her back then. And we’d probably be long divorced with all the bitter feelings that brings.”

“At least I tried to do the right thing.”

“Compared to what I’m doing?” Daniel asked in a dangerously polite voice.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then what are you saying?”

Joe shrugged. “I’m just asking. That’s all.”

“If Rebecca had wanted to marry me, she would have stuck around back then. Maybe thought to mention that we were having a baby together. Instead, she went out of her way to make sure I didn’t find out. I can pretty well guarantee that marrying me is not on her mind.”

“But has it crossed your mind?”

“You know it has!” Daniel started to push back his
chair, then changed his mind and sank back down. “I’ve thought about every option. But, damn it, Joe! You seem to be cut out for family. I’m not.”