Mixed Blessings (2 page)

“What happened?”

Still remembering the hazy days surrounding the birth, she murmured a rambling, “I had severe toxemia…sedated me…said I had a seizure, but I don't recall it…woke up in the intensive care unit…”

He nodded sagely as he absorbed her explanation, then asked, “How did you decide Ricky isn't yours?”

Her arms spasmed around her son. “He is mine! Ricky is mine! I've loved him and—”

Peter gently pressed two fingers to her lips to quiet her and interrupted, “I meant biologically unrelated, Marie.” He gave her an apologetic smile, then broke contact.

She tried to settle down. “The last week has been horrible. I'm sorry I'm so snappish.”

“It's understandable. Tell me what happened last week.”

“The day-care center where I work had medical students come do physicals on the children. They did lab work and head-to-toe checkups. When I got Ricky's results, I thought they'd made a mistake. A kid can't have AB-negative blood when both parents have O positive.”

“I'm AB negative,” he whispered hoarsely.

She closed her eyes, as if it would make the problem disappear. Trying to ignore Peter's revelation, she whispered, “I made them test Ricky again. I had them test me, too. When it came back conclusively that he couldn't…”

He seemed to know she wouldn't finish the sentence. Those words were too painful to say aloud. Swirling his big hand on Ricky's back, he asked, “How did you find me?”

“I know I've been a pest, but I couldn't help it. The hospital—I didn't go to them because I don't trust them. It seemed wrong, letting them control this when they'd already messed it up so badly.”

“So you did all of the legwork, yourself? You didn't hire anyone to help you?”

“I went to the county registrar's office and checked in the Hall of Records. It's a small community hospital, so there weren't all that many birth records to wade through. Only four boys were born during that time. One was a stillbirth, so that left three, and I knew the boy who weighed in at over ten pounds couldn't have been switched with a seven-pounder, so that left me with you.”

“You don't have any real proof yet.” He sounded like she had a few short days ago—anxious to deny the truth. Desperate.

“I wouldn't have come if I wasn't sure, Mr. Hallock. The doctor guaranteed me Ricky isn't—that biologically, he can't be…” She sucked in a deep breath. “The only
time I've been separated from him was during the hospital stay. There's no other possibility.”

“What does your husband say about all of this?”

She averted her face as a wave of grief washed over her. Her heart contracted as she watched the flowers in the patch flutter in the breeze, just as she'd watched the ones in the bouquets flutter at Jack's graveside. Their scent suddenly grew just as cloying, too.

“You're wearing a wedding ring,” he prompted tentatively.

“Jack was a police officer. He got shot and killed in the line of duty almost two years ago.” She heard the sharply indrawn breath Peter took and didn't dare look at him for fear she'd start weeping all over again.

“I'm so sorry, Marie. I'm sorry they pulled guns just now, too. That must've brought up painful memories.” He paused, and she slowly nodded confirmation. Birdsong filled the silence—so out of place in the midst of a catastrophe. “Do you have any other children?”

Turning back to face him, Marie steeled herself with a gulp of air. “The only other child I have is in your house.”

An agonized roar tore from his chest as he bolted to his feet and paced away a few steps. He turned back again. His mouth opened and closed several times, as if he were going to say something and then decided not to.

“Mr. Hallock, I have to see my baby.”

“We don't know for sure that Luke is your son.” Even as he spoke, his face flushed. Was it from anger, or guilt?

Marie felt sick at how she'd torn this man's world apart, but now that she'd calmed down a bit, she couldn't leave without learning the truth. “What does he—your son, Luke—look like?”

“You're not getting my son.” His eyes bored through her. His volume dropped ominously, but the rumble carried conviction.
“The Hallocks are never losing another child.”

H
is words and tone stunned her. Had one of his other children died? Had he lost one in a custody battle? It wasn't her place to ask, but Marie could tell from those agonized words Peter Hallock fiercely loved and protected his own. A host of primitive emotions crackled between them. Ricky squirmed and broke the tense silence. “I gotta go potty!”

When Peter failed to react, Marie prompted, “Could we please go inside?”

“Yeah. Sure.” He got up and helped her to her feet. “Give me a few days to get over the shock. No, give me a lifetime. This is a hideous nightmare!”

“I know.” His look of mixed anguish and bewildered hurt struck a common chord. Marie struggled to keep her voice steady, “I keep praying I'll wake up and it'll be behind me.”

Peter eased Ricky from her arms and glanced at her, then down at Ricky and back at her. His face appeared even more haunted. “I don't know if we'll wake up, Marie.”

The officers still hovered close by. “Ma'am? Sir—”

Peter took charge. “We appreciate your assistance. No one is at risk—unless it's Ricky and me in danger of getting drenched. You can leave.” The cops chuckled as Peter increased his pace.

She hastened alongside him, up a cobblestone walk bordered by perfectly manicured hedges and lawn. His home looked like a Georgian mansion. It stood as evidence of power, class, and wealth. Marie hadn't researched him—all she'd gotten were a name, address and phone number. She'd tried to get more information, but she didn't know the ins and outs of investigating someone, and the few leads she had were useless. The gates hadn't been mere façade—the home behind them and the man who lived in it were steeped in money. That fact increased her wariness.

When they reached the bathroom and Ricky fumbled to pull down his elastic-waisted jeans, Peter braced himself against the marble pullman. “I don't want to believe it.” In a sickened hush he added, “But I think I do.”

His words only confirmed her worst fears. The days of praying and nights of sleeplessness all came down to this. Marie wanted to turn back the clock and return to the days when she innocently mothered the child she'd always thought was hers. As she soaped Ricky's hands over the sink, she felt his slippery hand slide away from hers and knew it was symbolic. It took every last shred of her self-control to keep from weeping.

Peter stared at Ricky. His eyes held a dazed cast. “I hoped you were mistaken. We'd do tests—you know—and realize you'd just been…wrong. This nightmare is real. You have my s—”

“Daddy?” a high voice piped out in the hallway. “Lookie! I gots a—” As soon as the toddler discovered
strangers, he halted midsentence and clutched his father's slacks for security.

Transfixed, Marie stood still and stared at the boy. His corn-silk hair matched hers, as did his dimples. He had her small, straight nose and gently rounded chin, but he also carried some of Jack's traits. She folded her wet hands to her chest to still the thundering in her heart. His name whispered between her lips.

Peter immediately grabbed the boy by the shoulder and turned him to divert his attention. “Hey, sport! I found someone to be your friend. Let's go to the playroom.” He scooped up the child before Marie could even reach out for him. Peter threw a towel at Marie, grabbed Ricky, and headed down the hall.

“Wait!” She hurriedly dried her hands and chased after him. The man had an impossibly long stride. She kept her eyes on them—the boy who matched his red hair, and the boy who matched her blond. A jumble of emotions muddled her brain.

She hurriedly caught up with him at the doorway to a playroom. Sunlight streamed through gleaming windows, illuminating the bold primary colors of the simple furniture and toy shelves. Every imaginable thing a child might dream to possess filled the place. A very young woman in overalls carefully stacked blocks back into a red plastic bin and gave the boys a warm smile.
Mrs. Hallock?

“Anne, we have guests,” Peter said in a friendly tone that still carried authority. “Please ask Mrs. Lithmas to bring lunch here for the four of us. You may have the rest of the day off. Have her call Paulette to cancel my twelve o'clock, too.”

“Yes, sir.” The nanny nodded and left.

Marie glanced around, then asked, “Is your wife home?”

“I'm widowed, too.”

“Oh, I'm so sorry!” Her heart twisted. How long had little Luke lacked a mommy's love?

Peter put both of the boys down, then held Marie back. “Please let them have time together. Don't rush Luke. He's shy, and you don't want to scare him. He's been taught not to go near strangers.”

Marie shot him a pained look.

Peter gently squeezed her arm and urged, “Give him time. It'll be worth it—I promise.” He frowned a few minutes later. He and she still stood side by side in tense silence while the boys played with toys and ignored one another. “Why won't they play together?”

Kneeling on the floor, Marie stated softly, “I work in a day care, so I see this all of the time. Kids this age do what's called parallel play. They play alongside of one another and sense companionship, but they don't necessarily interact. In a while, they will.” She turned back to Ricky and laughed as he worked the jack-in-the-box.

Luke let out an unholy screech and grabbed for the toy. “Mine!”

“Share!” Ricky yelled back.

“Let's take turns,” Marie intervened. “Ricky, it's Luke's turn next.” She slowly reached out to the son she'd never held. Her heart almost beat out of her chest as he stared at her with wide blue eyes. He turned his gaze toward his father and received a nod of approval. Very tentatively, he drew closer.

Lord, he's all I have left of Jack. You already instilled a mother's love for him in my heart. Please, Father, stir the love of a son in his heart for me.

Marie wanted to grab him and hold him close, but she knew she'd spoil everything if she did. Summoning control she didn't know she possessed, she gently hitched the
children by their waists and held one on each knee. In her softest voice she prompted, “Okay, Luke, show me how to do it.”

She wanted to squeeze him silly. She wanted to cover his dear little face with kisses and vent the laughter and tears that warred within her breast. She couldn't do any of that—not here, not now. She felt Peter watching how she handled both boys. Glancing at him, she cocked a brow as if to ask what he thought.

“He doesn't usually take kindly to strangers. He kicks up a royal fuss.”

“Really?”

Marie remained motionless as Luke curiously raised a finger to trace her dimple, then she took his finger and guided him to touch one of his own. Afterward, she took that finger and drew it toward her face. Suddenly, she turned her head and gobbled up his arm and neck. He dissolved into gales of laughter.

“Me, too!” Ricky demanded, and she pulled him right into the fun.

To Marie's amazement, Peter Hallock forced out a lion's roar. He disregarded his beautifully tailored, visibly expensive suit and pounced from the sofa. Both boys shrieked, and Peter grabbed Luke. He tossed him in the air, caught him amidst squeals of joy, and then did the same to Ricky. He lay on the floor and wrestled gently with the boys. They piled all over him, wiggled and kicked and screeched. Marie giggled, but her mirth came to a quick halt as Luke pressed a sloppy peck on his father's cheek.

Marie went stark still. She felt the blood drain from her cheeks, and her stomach plunged to the hardwood floor.

Peter stopped chortling, sat up and leaned closer. “Marie?”

Fearing she was going to be sick, she dipped her head and rasped, “Give me a minute.”

“Marie, I know this is hard. Take a few deep breaths.” He knelt directly in front of her and cupped both of her shoulders, as if to brace her. “That's right. Take your time.”

A few minutes passed, and Marie earned an approving nod from him. “There. Much better,” he said softly. She struggled to contain her feelings. Countless emotions flickered across his features. He cradled her cheek in one hand, and the other slid off to feather her hair back from her temple. “Marie, I know this is hard, but I don't understand what happened. You were okay one minute, and then…what's wrong?”

“What's wrong? That's my baby! He's mine and he doesn't even know me. He calls you Daddy. He's never even kissed me.” Her trembling whisper finally cracked and she said, “He should have played with Jack.”

“You're right.” The agreement whispered between them.

“He looks like Jack, too. Through the eyes. And the shape of his lips. The right arch of his lip is just a shade higher.” She drew in an aching breath. “Jack would have been so proud.”

Peter's eyes glowed with love. For all the horror of the moment one thing came across very clearly—he cherished his son. “Luke is a very special child, Marie. Of course Jack would have been proud. I'm sure he was proud of Ricky, too.”

“Oh, he adored him! He had father-son portraits taken just the week before…the week before…”

“I understand,” he said, saving her from saying the words she found so difficult. “I'd like copies of those pictures, Marie. I'll duplicate my favorite pictures of Luke
for you, too. You'd like that, wouldn't you?” Peter gave her a bolstering smile when she nodded.

“Mommy, I'm hungreeee!” Ricky stood next to Peter and gave her an accusing look.

“Yeah, tiger,” Peter chuckled, “I'll bet you're always hungry. A lady is going to bring us lunch in a minute.”

Gathering her wits, Marie tugged her rumpled dress down a few inches to her knees. “That's not necessary.”

“But it would be nice.” Peter slipped his arm around Ricky's hips and gave him a possessive squeeze. “I want you to stay. We ought to all get to know one another.”

“After lunch, we'll need to leave. Ricky can nap in the car, but I have a fair drive home.”

“Where do you live?”

“Orange County.”

His jaw dropped, then his brows knit in vexation. “That's over two hundred fifty miles away!”

Marie rubbed her forehead back and forth in line with the furrows. “I know. I said the same thing when I found out where you live. I'd hoped you lived much closer to the hospital. It's halfway between us.”

“Why were you so far from home for delivery?”

“We lived in Melway at the time. Jack got a position down in Orange County, so we moved soon after I had Ricky.”

“I see,” he said tightly. “Where were you staying?”

“Staying?”

“Last night. Where did you spend last night?”

Marie gave him a puzzled look. “We were at home.”

Raking his hand through his hair, he scowled. “You drove all of the way up here this morning and plan to turn back around and go home again? That's a ten-hour round-trip!”

“I have commitments.”

“What could possibly be more important than getting to know our sons?”

Marie took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and remembered how shocked and angry she'd been when she discovered the awful truth. Peter Hallock probably felt just as appalled.

“At least stay for the weekend.”

The lump in her throat worsened. The anguish in his eyes nearly took her breath away. She empathized. From the moment she'd discovered her son was elsewhere, she'd hungered to hold him. Peter Hallock clearly felt that same longing to be with his son.
Her son.
She said very quietly, “I can't stay.”

“You can't mean to dash off!”

Marie pulled a slip of paper from her pocket and extended her hand. “I've written my address and phone number down for you. Here. You can reach me anytime. My business number is there, too.”

Peter took the paper and barely glanced at it before slipping it into the pocket of his slacks. “Stay for lunch. We'll come up with plans. We have to do something. I don't want you to leave.”

“Ricky and I will have lunch with you and Luke.” She looked at her son—her biological son—and whispered, “I didn't know it was going to be this hard.”

The housekeeper's arrival cut short Peter's response. The aproned woman pushed in an elegant, inlaid wood tea cart laden with four china plates and beverages. She proceeded to set the small trestle table over by the window with linen napkins. Marie thought she must be hallucinating. It looked like someone had clipped this scene straight from a soap opera. She glanced at Peter and Luke. Neither of them paid any attention to the housekeeper.

Marie gulped. A very ordinary woman who lived an
average middle-class life, she knew she was in way over her head.

Peter nudged Luke toward the table, then plucked Ricky out of Marie's arms. “We'll have to get you a booster seat just like Luke's. Today, you'll sit on my lap.”

Marie hesitantly took the seat Peter pulled out for her, then looked at Ricky. He'd curled his fingers around Peter's collar and grinned up at him, so she couldn't very well protest, even though her heart twisted at the sight of them together.
You knew you'd have to learn to share him.
She daintily settled her napkin in her lap, then reached over to take Ricky's outstretched hand. She cast a wary look at Peter.

He took Luke's hand. “Do you normally say grace, too?”

She nodded.
Too.
That one word relaxed her a bit. At least they held some common ground. Building bridges between their families would be easier if they shared a foundation of faith.

Luke and Ricky singsonged, “God is great, God is good…” in a sweet duet, and Peter's voice quickly blended with them. Marie finally caught up and added, “Amen!”

Peter's intense stare made Marie shift in her seat. “What?”

“If you're upset about missing church, you can attend ours.”