With All Her Heart

by Kat Brookes

  “I hate to break it to you, boy,” he said as he calmly moved closer, “but that’s a peach. Not a ball. What do you say we go back to the house and get you the real thing?” The pup glanced about as if contemplating another playful run, but Mason had reached him at this point and was able to grab ahold of his collar, then clipped on the leash. “Come on. Let’s go get your red ball and get some of that extra energy out of you.”

  He let the pup lead the way. Grits knew his way home. He was one of the smartest dogs Mason had ever had the pleasure of knowing. A bit on the rambunctious side, but completely focused, with sharp reflexes.

  When they reached his Gator, Mason settled Grits onto the passenger seat, making sure to hold on to his collar so he wouldn’t jump out and injure himself.

  The emotional snarl deep in his gut that he’d felt when Lila burst through the trees in search of Grits and the boy blossomed once again in his gut the moment he drove up to Mrs. Tully’s place. Lila and Finn, who, judging by his size, looked to be around seven or so, waited for him on the front porch steps.

  “Grits!” the young boy cried out. Shooting to his feet, he ran out to greet them.

  “Back home safe and sound,” Mason said, his gaze settling on Lila, who had pushed to her feet as well but remained where she was. “Why don’t you take Grits in and give him some water?” he told her son, holding out the looped end of the leash. “Then find his ball and bring him back out. I’ll run him a bit more before I trim the hedges.”

  “Okay,” the boy said. A second later, both he and the dog were racing toward the house.

  Mason knew he should have gone about his business there, but his feet had other plans, carrying him toward Lila. “I was on my way over here when I ran into your son and Grits.” Not literally, thank the Lord. The whole scenario could have turned out far differently if either dog or boy had shot out from the trees a few second later. That thought in mind, he sent a quick prayer of thanks heavenward to the Lord for watching over Lila’s son and Grits that day.

  “I thought we had an agreement,” Lila said with an accusatory glance.

  “We do,” he said, unsure of where she was going with this.

  “You agreed to stop by between three and four o’clock on the days you need to tend to any yardwork.”

  His brows drew together in confusion at that remark. “Which is exactly what I’ve been doing,” he replied.

  “Then why were you on your way over here an hour early?” she asked.

  “I wasn’t.”

  “Oh,” she said, some of the anger going out of her sails. “I thought you were headed to the house because of the direction you’d been heading when Finn came across you.”

  “I was,” he said. “Just as we’d agreed upon. Timed it perfect, it seems, or you and your son might still be chasing Grits around the orchard.”

  “We would have managed,” she told him, jutting her chin ever so slightly. “As for your having perfect timing, not even close.” She held up her phone, showing him the time. “You’re early.”

  Mason lifted his gaze back up to Lila’s frowning face. “My apologies. I didn’t realize you were referring to Central Daylight Time when you set the time I was allowed to stop by.”

  “What?” She turned the screen back to her and then lifted her gaze to Mason. “It’s not 2:34 p.m. right now?”

  “In the next time zone over,” he replied. “Not here.”

  “Oh,” she said, the rigidity leaving her posture. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why my phone hasn’t changed over to the correct time.”

  “Probably a setting in the phone,” he surmised.

  She nodded, her gaze falling away. “I’ll look into it.”

  When she said nothing more, he said, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Tell you what?” Her refusal to look him in the eye told him that Lila knew exactly what—no, make that who—he was referring to.

  His frown deepened. “That you have a son,” he said, doing his best to stuff down the jealousy. He didn’t want to care that he wasn’t a part of the cozy little picture that was Lila’s life. Didn’t want proof that Lila had found happiness without him. “Did you think that it would make any difference to me?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even.

  She lifted her gaze, unshed tears looming in her eyes. “Mason—”

  A bark cut into the words she’d been about to speak, drawing their attention to the porch, where both dogs darted out the door past Lila’s son, leashes dragging behind them.

  Finn scrambled down the porch steps behind them, a colorful ball in each hand. “Stop!” he cried out as they raced off across the yard toward the trees.

  “Oh no!” Lila gasped. “Not again.”

  Mason gave a sharp whistle, and both dogs stopped immediately and turned to face him. “Stay!” He crossed the yard, removed their leashes and then walked back to where Lila and her son stood watching.

  “How did you do that?” Lila said in disbelief.

  “We’ve been doing it every day since Mrs. Tully was admitted to the hospital,” he told her. “Longer, actually. After she first took them in, I started coming by a couple of times a week to run some of their energy out for her.”

  “You always did have a thing for animals,” she said with a soft smile.

  Honey barked impatiently, causing Grits to follow suit.

  Mason looked to Lila’s son. “They’re ready to play,” he told him. “Give those balls a toss to the other side of the yard.”

  Finn did as instructed, sending them hurtling a fair distance across the yard.

  “Good arm,” Mason said with an acknowledging nod as the dogs raced after them. “A real ballplayer in the making. Your daddy must be proud.” He knew he would be.

  “I don’t have one,” the boy replied, the smile that had been on his face as he’d watched the dogs retrieve the balls fading.

  Mason stood there, dumbfounded by the boy’s unexpected response. Then he looked to Lila.

  “It’s getting late,” she said, looking past Mason to her son. “Honey and Grits appear to be in capable hands, and we need to get to the hospital. Gramma Tully is expecting us.”

  “Lila...” he said apologetically.

  She finally turned to gaze his way. “That is, if you don’t mind seeing to them this afternoon.”

  He shook his head. “No, not at all.”

  “Thank you,” she said, her smile, like that of her son, all but gone. She started for the house, calling back over her shoulder for Finn.

  The boy looked longingly at the dogs and then up at Mason, and then he was gone, hurrying after his mother.

  Mason stood watching them go, his heart going out to Finn. He couldn’t imagine growing up without a father. His daddy had been such an important part of his life. Along with teaching him the word of the Lord, he’d taught Mason how to ride a bike, play ball and work the orchard. Had Finn’s died? Or had Lila and he divorced? Had Lila finally found her true happiness, only to lose it?

  Chapter Three

  Lila stood at the kitchen window, looking out at the extension of the Landerses’ orchard their neighbors had added along the edge of Mama Tully’s backyard. Of their own accord, her eyes searched among the rows of young peach trees for some sign of Mason. Her emotions warred, fearful of seeing him again now that he’d discovered she had a son, yet longing to see him.

  Her hand moved to rest against her stomach, which had been tied up in knots all morning. She’d woken up knowing she needed to prepare herself for the confrontation that was certain to come. Mason might have been unaware of the enormity of the moment he’d first laid eyes on Finn, but it would come to him. It was just a matter of time before he figured it out. Once Mason replayed the events of the day before in his mind, finally processed what he’d seen, he would be back. Other than the wayward curls and smaller stature,
which their son had inherited from her, Finn was the spitting image of his father. Maybe not so much the present-day Mason with his broad shoulders, deep voice and whisker-stubbled chin, but definitely of the younger version of the boy she had once loved.

  Still loved, her foolish heart corrected. But how could she love a man she didn’t know? Because the Mason she’d come home to was a stranger to her. They were no longer love-struck teens dreaming of a future together that would never come to fruition. They were adults with separate lives.

  Barking erupted from somewhere at the front of the house, followed by scrambling footsteps and the shuffling of paws on the hardwood floors. A second later her son called out, “Mom! Mr. Landers is here.”

  Lila froze in place.

  Heavy footsteps drew closer and stopped. Heart pounding, Lila turned. Mason stood unmoving, his gaze locked with hers. He was dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans and a navy blue T-shirt that hugged work-hewn arms, physical proof of the labor he put into his family’s orchard. His jaw was set hard, his eyes accusing. And she knew without a doubt that this was it.

  “Mason...” she began.

  “We need to talk,” he said in a gravelly tone, as if he were struggling to keep his emotions in check.

  She nodded and then looked to her son, who, along with Grits and Honey, had followed Mason to the kitchen. Their son. “Sweetie, would you mind giving the dogs some fresh water and maybe a treat or two while Mr. Landers and I go discuss a few things?”

  “Sure,” he responded with a bright smile. Mason’s smile.

  Lila stepped away from the kitchen window and moved past Mason’s imposing form, her heart pounding. He fell into step behind her. Thankfully, he waited until they were outside and well out of Finn’s hearing to confront her.

  “How old is he?” Mason demanded the moment they came to a stop next to Mama Tully’s vegetable garden at the side of the house.

  She knew Mason was referring to their son. But what if he threatened to take Finn away from her? Or what if he refused to acknowledge the child they’d conceived out of love was his? Any rejection of the child they had created together would break her heart. Gaze dropping to the ground between them, she answered, “Eight.”

  “Eight,” he breathed as if trying to process the information.

  “And a half,” she added, feeling the sting of unshed tears.

  A shocked gasp passed through Mason’s lips. “Lila,” he implored, his voice cracking with emotion, “is Finn my son?”

  Lila forced herself to look up into Mason’s accusing eyes. She’d expected anger, knew she was deserving of it no matter her reasons for doing what she’d done, but the hurt she saw there nearly had her sinking to her knees. “Yes,” she said with a soft sob, hot tears spilling out onto her cheeks, “Finn is yours.”

  Moisture flooded his dark eyes as he stared down at her in disbelief. “I have a son.”

  She nodded with a sniffle. “You do. Mason...” she said, fear and regret threatening to swallow her up, “Finn doesn’t know you’re his father.”

  “I think that’s pretty clear,” he muttered with a frown. Dragging in a deep, steadying breath, he ran a hand down over his face and then pinned her with an accusatory gaze. “Why would you keep him from me? I loved you. I thought you loved me.”

  “I do,” she countered with a hiccupping sob. “I...I mean, I did.”

  “You have, or should I say had,” he amended, “a funny way of expressing your love for me. Taking off without a word, unless you count that brief goodbye letter you left behind for me. And then there’s the child you were carrying when you ran off, my son, who you chose to keep from me for more than eight years.”

  “I left because I loved you,” she insisted. “If I had stayed in Sweet Springs, it would have caused you and your family shame. Caused Mama Tully shame. And it would have meant an end to your dream of following in your daddy’s footsteps, something I truly believed you wanted to do at the time.”

  He glanced off toward the house where their son was, thankfully oblivious to the torrent of emotions whirling about outside. Then he turned back to Lila. “You should have talked to me. Should have trusted me.”

  There was no denying the hurt she heard in his voice. More hurt than anger at that moment, which only deepened her guilt. Before Lila could respond, a melodic tune started playing in the back pocket of her jeans. The hospital and Addy were the only ones who would be calling her, but they would have to wait. Right now, she needed to focus on Mason and what he intended to do now that he knew the truth.

  Mason frowned as the ringtone continued to drift up between them. “You’d best answer that. It might be the hospital.”

  Reluctantly, she slipped the phone free of her pocket and had to squint to read the display on the screen beneath the bright glare of the afternoon sun. Even then, the words were blurred thanks to her tear-filled eyes. A second later, Lila looked up at him as she answered the call. “It’s the hospital.” Bringing the phone to her ear, she said, “Hello?”

  * * *

  There was a long pause and then Mason saw Lila’s worried expression deepen. “And how long will that take?” she asked the caller on the other end, her voice cracking with emotion.

  Without thinking, he started to move closer to offer her his support, but then caught himself and pulled back. What kind of fool would try to offer emotional support to the woman who kept his child from him for eight years?

  “I see,” she said in response to whatever had been said on the other end of the line. “Yes. Please let her know I’ll be there as soon as possible. Thank you for contacting me.” Ending the call, she lifted her gaze to his.

  “Something wrong?” he queried, despite already knowing the answer. The hospital wouldn’t call an emergency contact to exchange idle chatter.

  “Yes,” Lila replied, tears pooling thick in her eyes. “She’s developed a slight fever. They’re running tests—blood work, I think the doctor said—to see what’s causing it and what kind of antibiotic is needed to treat it. What if the peritonitis has come back? Or worse,” she said, swaying slightly as if her legs might give way beneath her at any moment, “what if it’s turned to sepsis?”

  Despite his feelings of betrayal, Mason moved to wrap a supportive arm about her shoulders. “Slight fever, Lila,” he stressed. “That means they’ve caught whatever it is early and can get her the proper medication to clear up any infection.”

  She nodded, sending another tear down her already dampened cheek.

  He unthinkingly reached up to swipe it away with his thumb, a gesture that felt so natural when it should be anything but. Letting his hand fall back to his side, Mason said, “She’s going to be okay.”

  “I can’t lose her,” she sobbed. “She and Addy are all we have.”

  Her words stabbed at his heart, a heart that was at that moment already feeling shredded to pieces. She would have had him, too, if she’d only stuck around to see things through, instead of running off with his child. “You won’t lose her,” he said assuredly, letting his arm fall away. Then he sent a prayer heavenward, asking the Lord to see Mrs. Tully safely through this new setback.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said with a sniffle. “I know there’s so much more we need to talk about, but I have to go.”

  “Agreed,” he acknowledged with a nod. “We’ll discuss things later. You need to be with Mrs. Tully right now.”

  “Yes.” Her hand shook as she slid her phone back into the pocket of her jeans.

  “Get your things,” he told her. “I’ll take you and Finn to the hospital.”

  She looked more than a little surprised by his offer. He supposed he was, as well. She didn’t deserve any favors from him, but she didn’t need to be sitting behind the wheel of a car now with his son inside. His son. He’d never thought he’d be anyone’s father. After Lila had run out on him, he’d locked
those hopes and dreams up tight and focused on running and improving the orchards and family market.

  “There’s no need—” Lila began, but he cut her off.

  “You’re in no condition to drive,” he pointed out. “Besides, I need to know Mrs. Tully is all right.”

  “I would never do anything to hurt my son,” she said defensively.

  He raised a challenging brow, tempted to point out that she had intentionally kept Finn from knowing who his father was. But there would be time enough for addressing the choices she had made. “Our son,” he clarified.

  Lowering her gaze, she nodded.

  “I’ll go put Honey and Grits in their room,” Mason said with a sigh of frustration. “You and Finn gather up whatever you need and meet me out at my truck.” He started for the house.

  Hurried footsteps sounded behind him as Lila hurried to catch up. “Mason...”

  He glanced her way.

  “Please, I beg you,” she said, “let me be the one to tell Finn the truth.”

  He didn’t owe Lila anything. But he did owe his son the chance to hear the truth from someone the boy trusted and loved, not from the father he’d never known. Stopping, he turned to face her. “You have a week to tell our son what he should have known all along,” he allowed. “If you haven’t done so by then, I will.”

  “I’ll tell him,” she said shakily.

  With a nod, he walked away, replaying that day in the orchard in his mind. How had he not seen the truth from the first moment he saw Finn? The same dark shade of hair as his own. And those eyes...he thought with a mental headshake. Like his, they were a deep, dark brown. Finn’s face was the same face that had stared back at him in the bathroom mirror when he was a boy. Mason’s lungs constricted as the enormity of it all sank in. He had a son.

  * * *

  Once they’d arrived at the hospital, Mason, Lila and their son—how odd to think of another human being as a part of him—made their way down the long entryway corridor. Finn, who had begun dragging his feet the moment they had stepped out of Mason’s truck, came to a sudden stop next to an alcove housing a pair of vending machines. “Momma...”