by Kaitlyn Rice
Now she wondered if she should say something about his father. He’d probably ask, at some point. He might want to know at least one of his biological parents.
Callie wished she could ask her mother for advice. Ella had raised three girls without help. After their father had left, she’d just continued on as if he’d only been meant to be a part of their lives for a short time. His departure hadn’t broken her stride.
Callie hadn’t only broken stride after Ethan’s departure, but she’d flirted with major depression. Her pregnancy had kept her going. And now Luke did.
Her little boy shrieked. He had stuck his finger into the faucet, causing a wild spray of water to soak half the kitchen.
“No, punkin’. You’re getting me wet,” she said, smiling as she nudged his hand away from the flow of water.
Luke wrinkled his nose and snickered.
“You ornery thing,” Callie said with a chuckle. “Let’s get you dressed so I can fix dinner for your aunts.”
She picked up Luke and cradled him against her as she opened the sink stopper. Grabbing a fluffy towel from the counter, she wrapped it around her baby and patted him dry before hustling him through to Josie’s living room, which currently served as her and Luke’s temporary bedroom.
Laying Luke on the middle of the sofa, she diapered him. He liked being naked almost as much as he liked being wet, so she’d learned to work fast and keep talking. “When we get home, I’ll enroll us in one of those ‘Mommy and Me’ swim classes,” she said as she wrestled his kicking legs into a pair of overalls. “What do you think of that?”
He grinned and grasped a buckle. “Ga.”
Callie chuckled. When she spoke to Luke, he usually answered her in one way or another. They had an amazing bond. She hoped they always would.
After tugging a tiny T-shirt over his head, she buckled the overall straps and picked him up. “There you go, all dressed,” she said on her way to the kitchen again.
After easing him onto the floor, out of her work path, she pulled a red melamine mixing bowl and wooden spoon from the cabinets. She beat on the bottom of the bowl once, and then handed both bowl and spoon to Luke.
He tipped the bowl over, inserted the spoon and made stirring motions that clacked against the sides and made him cackle at his own cunning.
Chuckling, Callie crossed to the sink to tidy the area.
When the phone rang, she grabbed it and leaned against the counter to talk to Stan, her supervisor at BioLabs. She suspected that he hadn’t really called long distance to ask her how things were going with Isabel’s house, and his subsequent complaints about Callie’s lab assistants proved her right. The troubles he described might be management headaches, but they didn’t pose a threat to Callie’s research. She told Stan about a little trick she used when scheduling lab hours, and hung up feeling better.
He might have been fishing for news of her return, but she couldn’t give him an answer. She didn’t know how much longer she’d be in Kansas. Probably at least another month.
Callie was proud of her sisters for growing into such caring adults, but she knew their odd childhood had affected them. After spending their early years tucked away in the country trusting only one another, they found it hard to depend on other people. Especially men. How many times had Ella told them that men were untrustworthy?
Of course, they’d all since realized that Ella’s emotional health had been questionable, but Callie knew it was tough for Isabel to welcome workmen into her house every day. Having Josie and Callie around eased the situation.
The doorbell rang, and Callie sighed. So much for cleaning the kitchen. She glanced at Luke. He was content with his bowl and spoon, but she wouldn’t risk leaving him here alone for longer than a few seconds. She scooped him up and went to answer the door.
It was a mail carrier. “I have a package here that’s too big for the slot,” she said, handing a bundle of mail to Callie that included a large manila envelope.
Callie had always considered herself more thinker than feeler, but the nape of her neck tingled. She wondered if this mail contained significant news.
“Thanks,” she said before closing the door. Returning to the kitchen, she put Luke on the floor again, then slid the rubber band off the bundle and sorted through it.
The large package had originated from a west-Wichita post office. Callie’s name was typed on the label. She hadn’t admitted it to Ethan, but she’d kept track of him, too. He lived in a newer Wichita neighborhood, west of Maize Road. She wondered if he’d sent this.
Tears pricked her eyes when she opened the envelope and a single word isolated itself from all others on the top page.
Divorce.
Callie’s worst fears were being realized. Ethan had sent divorce papers. She leaned against the counter and tried to read the note he’d included, but her trembling became too violent. Swearing under her breath, she turned around and dropped the papers on the counter, then rested her palms on either side of them to try again.
He’d asked her to meet him at his attorney’s office next Thursday to discuss any additional requests she might wish to make.
A baby hand patted her leg. Luke had crawled over to pull himself up using her calf. He’d be walking soon.
He might never know his father.
Callie had known that. Had counted on it, in fact. But the divorce papers made the possibility sink in. Her little guy might never know his father—who was, at heart, a fine person. The kind of dad any little boy would be lucky to have in his life.
Luke couldn’t have his dad in his life partly because she had failed—would always fail—when it came to relationships with men.
Callie’s eyes grew too watery for her to continue reading. When she was trying to get pregnant, the fertility hormones had intensified her responses, but these on-the-surface emotions weren’t normal for her.
She picked up her son and held him close, patting his bottom as if to comfort herself by comforting him.
“Dat!” Luke said, bouncing in her arms and pointing toward Josie’s pantry. In just a couple of weeks, he’d learned that good things came from behind those doors.
Callie chuckled. Cuddling Luke had helped. Opening the pantry doors, she grabbed a box of animal crackers. Tearing off the box flap and wrapper, she handed the whole thing to Luke, then put him down again.
Picking up the documents, she studied them. The divorce petition and accompanying papers had been completed and signed by Ethan and a notary. Apparently, she wasn’t required to do anything here except sign a waiver saying that she didn’t object.
Ethan had proposed that they each keep what they had in their current possession. Since he’d left their home intact, taking only his clothes and personal things, his suggestion was extremely fair.
But, of course, the documents didn’t account for Luke’s existence. In every spot where children were mentioned, Ethan had filled in the blank with a zero, a no, or a none.
Callie glanced across the kitchen, to a baker’s rack that held a container filled with pens and pencils. It’d be so easy to just sign that waiver, stick the documents in the mail and tell Ethan that next week’s meeting in the attorney’s office was unnecessary.
She’d be finished.
Maybe.
Callie had no experience with divorce and didn’t know the procedures. If an attorney scrutinized the details, she might get herself into trouble. Denver birth records must be easy to check, and she had listed Ethan as the father.
He’d be so angry. So hurt. She might inspire the court’s disapproval, as well. Even her career could be jeopardized, if her colleagues or bosses learned of her deception. Her choices here might have a profound effect on her and her son’s futures.
The bang of the apartment door interrupted Callie’s thoughts, and soon Josie entered the kitchen. “Hey, Cal,” she said, dropping her keys into a pottery bowl.
As Callie greeted her sister, she hid the papers behind her on the counter. Calli
e wanted to think this through before she discussed it with anyone. But what should she do with the papers? She didn’t want to leave them on the counter or call her sister’s attention to them, so she turned her back to Josie, rolled the papers into a coil and slipped them beneath her arm. She’d hide them in her luggage alongside her wedding band.
Josie had crouched down to greet Luke, but now she peered at Callie. “You okay?” she asked with a smile. At Callie’s blank look, she cast a glance around the kitchen.
Callie had left Luke’s bath soap and shampoo next to the sink, along with the pile of clothes he’d worn before his bath. And she hadn’t started dinner.
“I’m just slow today,” she said as she inched toward the door. “I’ll get dinner going in a minute. How was work?”
“What?” Josie sounded confused.
Callie kept moving forward, but slowly. As if she was headed somewhere, but not in any real hurry and not for any important reason. “How was work?” she repeated.
Josie scowled and stood up, blocking Callie’s path. “What’s going on? You never ask me that.”
“I don’t?”
“No. You tell me what Luke did today. You talk about what’s happening at Isabel’s house. You don’t ask me about my job. Not lately, anyway.”
Was she that self-absorbed? Callie loved Josie. She was thrilled by her success. She didn’t tell Josie that often, though.
Good heavens. She was far too much like their mother. Callie and her sisters had had to jump through hoops to earn Ella’s praise. Passing the equivalency exams for students of their age hadn’t been good enough—their mother had pushed them to master the next level. They’d been excellent students, but they’d missed much of the fun of childhood.
Callie didn’t want to be so closed. Not with Luke or with her sisters. Despite Josie’s resilience, having long-term houseguests couldn’t be easy for her. Her apartment was crowded, and her busy social life had been temporarily throttled. She liked beer and televised sports, and often invited a gang over for impromptu parties. She could hardly do that with Luke’s crib set up in her living room, and her sisters’ things occupying her entire apartment.
“Sorry,” Callie said. “I’ve been worried about everything else going on, but I am very proud of you.”
Josie waved off the compliment, but not before Callie had noticed her tiny, startled smile.
Then Josie peered at the papers under Callie’s arm. “What is that you’re trying to hide?” she asked.
Callie couldn’t conceal them now, but she could hide her thoughts of deception until she decided how to handle this. Tugging the papers out, she unrolled them and held them up for her sister to see.
“You’re filing for divorce?” Josie asked.
“No.”
Josie’s eyes widened. “Oh. He’s filing.” She came across and took the papers. “Ethan’s got these all filled out, doesn’t he?” she said as she scanned them. “Hey. If you just sign in the appropriate places, maybe Luke’s existence will slip right past the courts.”
“Think so?” Callie asked.
As Josie stared at her, those wide eyes spoke volumes. “Could you live with yourself?”
Callie didn’t answer. She didn’t know. As it was, she managed to forget the mess of her life only part of each day. She always came to a moment, usually when she was lying in bed trying to sleep, when worry overtook all other thoughts. She needed to get Isabel’s house cleaned and get away. Even then, she’d have to find a way to handle this new story about Isabel being Luke’s mother.
“So what are you going to do?” Josie asked now, frowning as she looked up from the paperwork.
The complication had already necessitated a change in plans. Callie and her sisters had decided that Ethan shouldn’t talk to the work crews, now that he believed Luke was Isabel’s child. He might be able to work around a bunch of guys and never mention children who belonged to Isabel’s boyfriend. Why would he? He’d met Roger only once, briefly.
But he might mention Isabel’s baby to a group of men who were working on her house. Josie’s buddies knew that Isabel was single and childless. Some of the hired workers might know, too. Callie would be foolish to try to corral a bunch of men to explain the situation.
Her deception was spiraling into something so complex, sometimes she doubted that she’d be able to think her way through it.
She’d eventually have to deal with the other aspect of this ruse. She’d go home with Luke. Isabel would stay here. Ethan might bump into her sister and query Luke’s absence.
But Callie would deal with that problem after she’d put some physical distance between herself and Ethan.
Callie thought about Ethan and Luke, wishing for something she dreamed about, sometimes.
Then she thought about Ethan’s friend, LeeAnn. She’d be pushing Ethan to divorce quickly so she could move in with a clear conscience, wouldn’t she?
Memories of a couple of electrifying kisses also flashed through Callie’s mind. She recalled that wonderful warmth coming from Ethan in the church Sunday-school room. That strong sense of goodwill.
Whatever his feelings for LeeAnn, Ethan must still feel something for her, too. Something warm and alive.
Maybe her jealousy skewed her thinking, but she didn’t think Ethan was serious about LeeAnn. If he was, he wouldn’t kiss Callie the way he had, would he? He might be persuaded that he didn’t need to hurry with this divorce. Shouldn’t they all concentrate on Isabel’s recovery now? Ethan did care about her sisters.
Callie’s confidence returned. She felt as sure and strong as she had the morning after she’d comforted three-month-old Luke through a high fever. She’d awakened later than usual that day, and panicked at the quiet until she’d discovered Luke calm again.
This would work out all right, too.
It wouldn’t be easy. But it would work out.
Gathering Luke’s clothes and bath items, Callie hid a smile. “Leave those on the counter when you finish looking at them,” she told Josie. “I guess I’m just going to have to find another way to handle this.”
Chapter Five
Pulling into the parking lot at Yia Yia’s Restaurant in east Wichita, Ethan circled around, hunting for an empty spot. He let out a surprised oath when he spotted the little Mazda parked in the last row. After claiming the space next to Callie’s, he exited his car. “You’re already here?” he asked as soon as his estranged wife opened her car door.
“I said I’d be here at eight-thirty.” She stepped out and glanced at her watch.
He was late. He hadn’t hurried because he’d been certain that she’d be late. Wasn’t she always? “Sorry,” he said, feeling strange about the reversal of roles.
Callie was pretty tonight—more than pretty. Yia Yia’s was upscale, so of course she’d dress up. Tonight’s leaf-green dress was perfect for a warm spring evening, but the wild pattern and midthigh length were too deliberately flirty for Callie.
And yet the style suited her. Ethan wondered how she could have changed so much after only two years. “You’re stunning,” he said, taking care not to growl his words. “Is the dress new?”
“It’s Josie’s,” she said, glancing down. “I didn’t bring dressy clothes. You’re pretty snazzy, yourself.” Her eyes traveled across his chest, lingering just long enough to remind him of their lazy weekend mornings in bed.
She’d been wont to run her fingertips along his bare chest as they talked about anything and everything—until neither had wanted to talk anymore.
Sweet mercy. The memory was old, but the feelings it evoked were fresh and astonishing. Thinking about Callie that way, on this evening of all evenings, was a big mistake. They were here to talk about the divorce.
That was all.
Ethan swallowed. “Well. Let’s go in.”
He held the door open for Callie and spoke with the hostess, but his mind remained on his wife and her changes. He realized seconds after they were seated that she hadn’
t brought the divorce papers in with her. Her bag was too small to hold much more than her keys.
When she’d called to ask for this meeting, she’d said she wanted to speak to him without an attorney present. Her choice of restaurants might be considered strange, but they’d both always liked Yia Yia’s, so he hadn’t minded.
He’d assumed that she wanted to talk about something in those papers, but she hadn’t dressed for that conversation. As she sat studying the menu and smiling mysteriously, she didn’t appear to have come with the intent to discuss those papers.
But, hell, he needed to talk about them.
After he’d sent them, he’d had to resist tackling the mail carrier to retrieve them. “You okay, Cal?” he asked. “I mean, about the divorce packet? I hope it wasn’t too big a surprise.”
“I’m fine,” she said, her smile fading. “I didn’t expect to receive something like that in the mail, but I suppose I should have.”
“It’s time, don’t you think?”
She didn’t answer. She gazed at him for a moment longer, then returned her attention to the menu. “Do you know what you’re going to order?” she asked.
Their friendly young waitress waved at Ethan on her way past, and he decided Callie was right. They could talk after they’d ordered.
Except for the shock of seeing the papers, Callie shouldn’t be too upset. He’d been fair in his division of property.
He flipped open his menu and grew hungrier as he studied it. “Everything sounds good,” he said. “I haven’t been here since the last time we came together.”
“You haven’t?” Her eyes sought reassurance.
“No.”
Her gaze fell to his smile, then she grinned. “Ah. Well, I want some grilled shrimp for an appetizer,” she said. “Or should I get the crab cakes?”
“I’d go for the shrimp.”
“Share an order with me?”