His Secret Child (16 page)

Danny Vance hid in the corner of the garage and peeped out the window. As he watched Caleb stomp through the rain, get in his Porsche and drive away, his thin body trembled as tears poured down his cheeks.

They hadn't known he was there, that he'd been listening, that he'd heard every word they'd said.

He was supposed to be at Peewee football practice this afternoon, but when it started lightning so bad, the coach had sent them home. Tanner's mom had dropped him by the garage.

Danny is my son! You were so sure I didn't want you or Danny. Didn't want you or Danny. Didn't want Danny. Didn 't want Danny.

Caleb Bishop was his father. Not Daniel Vance. Caleb Bishop. And Caleb hadn't wanted him. His mom had been so sure that Caleb hadn't wanted him that she'd married someone else. The man he'd thought was his father wasn't.

So why should you think things are different now? That I'm different now?
Caleb's angry voice reverberated loudly inside Danny's head.

Caleb still didn't love him or his mother. He still didn't want them. Damn him! Damn Caleb Bishop to hell!

Danny ran out of the garage, out into the rain and down the street. He didn't know where he was going, but he knew one thing—he never wanted to see Caleb Bishop again as long as he lived!

Eleven

Caleb spun the Porsche into the driveway, splattering mud and flinging water from the puddles in the gravel road. He jumped out of the car and ran toward the house as rain drenched him to the skin.

He slammed the kitchen door behind him. Shaking his head, he created a halo of moisture around him. He shivered. It was a damn cold rain.

He'd been driving around for the past three hours—going nowhere fast. No matter how fast he drove or how far he went, he couldn't escape the truth—Danny Vance was his son, and Sheila had kept that from him for twelve years.

Caleb undressed in his bedroom, dumped his wet clothes on the bathroom floor and turned on the shower. He stepped beneath the warm water and let the spray pelt his body.

A part of him wanted to punish Sheila for keeping his child from him. And yet another part of him wanted to take her into his arms—to comfort her and tell her he understood why she'd lied to him.

He had known disappointment and pain before and he had survived, if only barely. But this was different. He had trusted Sheila as he'd never trusted anyone else. He had believed in her, in her love and goodness and honesty. If any other woman had been Danny's mother, he might have questioned the boy's paternity when he started noticing certain similarities—Bishop traits—they had in common. But he had trusted Sheila so implicitly that he had dismissed what his own gut instincts told him.

Caleb stepped out of the shower, dried off and went into the bedroom in search of dry clothes. He dressed hurriedly, haphazardly, in jeans and long-sleeved plaid shirt, then flopped down across the bed. Staring up at the ceiling, he replayed the scene in his mind. He could hear the uncertainty in Sheila's voice, could see the fear in her eyes, could sense the pain she felt.

Would you really have married me and given up your chance to play college baseball?

Would he have? God, help him, he didn't know. He couldn't be sure that he would have chosen to do the right thing twelve years ago.

I
loved you too much to deny you the fulfillment of those dreams.

Caleb didn't doubt for a minute that she meant what she'd said. She had loved him. She had sacrificed a life of the three of them together for the sake of his future career. She had made what she thought was the right decision— the only decision under the circumstances.

I
didn't have any choice. You didn't love me or want me or
—

She was right. He hadn't loved her then—twelve years ago, when he'd gotten her pregnant. He hadn't loved anyone except himself.

You would have hated me if I'd asked you to give up your chance to play college baseball.

Was she right about that, too? Would he have hated her? Would he have resented their baby?

Caleb squeezed his eyes shut as pain shot through his temples. Flinging his arms across his forehead, he groaned. Of course, Sheila was right. She'd known him so well, known nothing had been more important to him when he was eighteen than a chance to play college ball.

So, he had to concede that her decision not to tell him that she was pregnant had been the right one—for all of them. She had protected not only herself and Danny, but she had protected him, too.

It was a wonder that she didn't hate him, that she'd been able to keep on loving him all these years.

But why the hell hadn't she been honest with him after she knew he wasn't going to skip town a second time? Why had she waited all summer to tell him that Danny was his son?

Because she didn't trust you, you big dope! She told you today because she finally trusted you, because she finally believed that you had changed, that you were a man capable of understanding and forgiveness.

And what the hell had he done? The first big test she'd given him, he'd failed miserably. He'd said some horrible things to her. He'd blamed everything on her. And he'd walked out on her in a childish fit of rage, acting like the self-centered bastard he'd always been.

Caleb sat up straight in the middle of the bed. He had to get his act together. Had to talk to Sheila. Had to work through his problems with her before they told Danny.

How would the boy react? How would Danny feel about his big hero when he knew the truth—that he was his biological father? That twelve years ago a chance at a baseball career might have meant more to him than anything—even his own child?

Oh, God, he had to find a way to make Danny understand. He wanted his son to continue admiring him and liking him, and yes, he wanted Danny to love him. He'd been afraid to admit to himself how much Danny meant to him, afraid to say that he loved the boy. And even though he'd planned to propose to Sheila, he still hadn't been prepared to tell her that he loved her.

But if he couldn't truly love Sheila and Danny, he was going to lose them. If he didn't find a way to make up for the past, the three of them never could have a future together.

Just as he reached for the phone to call Sheila, it rang. Startled, he jumped, then grabbed the receiver with a shaky hand.

"Hello?"

"Caleb, is Danny with you?" Sheila's voice trembled.

"No, he's not with me. What's wrong?"

"Danny's missing," she said, choking on her tears. "Football practice was called off because of the weather and … and Teresa Finch dropped Danny off at the garage over two hours ago. But we can't find him!"

"Over two hours ago … then he might have overheard us."

"Yes, he might have. And if he did, we have no way of knowing exactly what he heard or how he interpreted it. Oh, Caleb, I'm scared. Danny's never—"

"Where are you, at home or at the garage?"

"I'm at the garage, but Mike's fixing to take me home. He's looked all over town for Danny. Nobody's seen him."

"I'll meet you at your house," he said. "And don't worry. We'll find Danny."

Danny's feet mired up in the sludge as he made his way deeper into the woods. Tears streamed down his face, mixing with the rain that matted his hair to his head and soaked through his shirt and jeans. He wasn't sure where he was going. All he knew was that he had to get away—he didn't ever want to see Caleb Bishop again. And he didn't want to face his mother. She had lied to him. She'd told him that Daniel Vance was his father. Why had she lied to him?

Because she knew Caleb didn't want you, that's why!

Who else knew the truth? he wondered. Did Uncle Mike know? And what about Tallie and Susan and Mr. and Mrs. Finch? Did everybody in Crooked Oak know? Everybody but him? Did the other guys know? Had they been laughing behind his back all these months?

Danny's foot caught on a large tree branch that lay atop the underbrush. Losing his balance, he tumbled forward and fell, facedown, onto the ground. The ball and glove he'd been clutching dropped out of his hands. Mud went into his mouth and up his nose. For a couple of minutes the mire strangled him. He coughed and spat as he shoved himself up onto his knees. His hands sunk into the rotted leaves that covered the wet earth.

Sobs racked his slender body. He looked straight up, through the towering tree branches, at the gray evening sky. It was going to be dark soon. He couldn't stay here. If he did, they'd be sure to find him. He had to keep going, stay moving, and get as far away from Crooked Oak as he could before nightfall.

Sheila flung open the front door. Caleb grabbed her the moment he got close enough to touch her. They stood in the doorway, clinging to each other.

"Any word on Danny?" Caleb asked, easing his arm around Sheila's waist as he closed the door and led her into the living room.

"We've called everyone we know," Mike said. "I've alerted all his friends to let us know if he contacts any of them. And I've driven up and down every street in town and asked everyone in every shop. Nobody's seen Danny since Teresa Finch dropped him off at the garage."

Caleb looked
at
Sheila. Her eyes were swollen and red. Sniffling,
she gazed
into his eyes. "Oh, Caleb. What if … if—"

Caleb encircled
her
in
his embrace and stroked her back
tenderly. Burying his
face against her neck, he whispered,
"God, honey, what did I
say that might have upset him?
I can't remember much
of anything I said. I was so angry
and hurt and … If he
heard us arguing … if he misunderstood
something I said … if—"

Sheila laid her hand
over Caleb's mouth. "I think we
can assume he heard
part, if not all, of our conversation.
And if he did,
then he knows that you're his biological
father and he knows that I've lied
to you and
to
him
his entire life."

Caleb pulled her hand away from his mouth and laced their ringers together. "Don't blame yourself. If this is anyone's fault, it's mine."

"Caleb—"

"If I hadn't reacted the way I did when you told me, Danny wouldn't have run. God knows what he thinks of me … what you think of me." He pulled Sheila over to the sofa and brought her down beside him as he sat. He kept his arm around her and their hands clasped together.

"I think you had every right to be upset and angry," Sheila said. "I should have told you about Danny months ago."

Mike cleared his throat. Sheila and Caleb glanced at him. "My sister did what she thought was best for all of you. She sacrificed her own happiness for your sake and Danny's."

"Mike, please, don't—" Sheila tried to stop her brother from explaining.

"It's all right, honey," Caleb said. "Mike's right. I understand why you did what you did. I think I understood when you told me, but I was just so hurt and confused and so filled with guilt that I tried to blame you for everything." He cupped her face in his hands. "You did what you thought was right for all three of us—for you and Danny and for me."

"Do you really believe that?" Tears threatened to overflow from her eyes. "You can't imagine how desperately I wanted to tell you that I was pregnant with your baby, but—" She gulped, swallowing her tears. "I wanted you to have your chance. I couldn't … couldn't …"

Caleb pulled her into his arms. She laid her head on his chest and sobbed so hard that her body shook. He comforted her, telling her over and over again that she shouldn't blame herself.

When she finished weeping, Sheila sucked in deep, calming breaths and squeezed Caleb's hand tightly. "We're going to have to call Lowell."

"Yeah, honey, you're right. We need some help to search for Danny." When Sheila started to get up, Caleb restrained her. "No. You just sit here and take it easy. I'll call Lowell. I'm Danny's father and it's way past time I started acting like it."

Within an hour Lowell Redman had organized a manhunt and half the men in Crooked Oak, some with their hunting dogs, showed up at Sheila's house. Lowell and Mike and Caleb split the men into three groups and began independent searches, all starting from the garage—the last place anyone had seen Danny Vance.

Susan Redman and Teresa Finch came over to stay with Sheila and man the telephones—both had brought their cellular phones to add two extra lines. As the hours passed and evening turned to night, the rainstorm worsened. Sheila paced the floor and despite her friends' constant hovering, she felt totally alone. Nothing they said or did to comfort her alleviated any of the agony she experienced.

The front door flew open. Caleb and Bill Finch wiped their feet on the outdoor mat, then hurried into the dry warmth of the house. Sheila raced toward Caleb.

"Did you find him?"

Caleb shook his head. "No."

"Oh, God!" Sheila crumbled into Caleb's arms, falling apart as he held her. "Where is he? What's happened to him?"

Tears glazed Caleb's eyes. He bit down on his lower lip.

"Danny's all right. He has to be. And we're going to find him."

"Our group came back to dry out and get some coffee, then we'll head back out and Mike's group will come in," Bill Finch said. "We're going to keep a group of searchers out there until we find Danny."

"I want to go with you when you go back
out." Sheila
grabbed the lapels of Caleb's jacket.

"Honey,
there's
nothing you can do. I wish you'd stay
here." He looked into her eyes—eyes that plainly showed her suffering— and knew he couldn't deny her anything. "All right. You'll come with me and we'll find our son together."

"Oh, my," Teresa Finch cried

"Hush up," Bill Finch told his wife.

"You hush up," Teresa said. "I just think it's sad that Caleb and Sheila and Danny had to be apart all those years."