Wednesday's Child

by Leigh Michaels

  “We have to eat somewhere.” He didn’t sound interested.

  “No. We don’t have to do anything — together, at least. But I do think it would be nice if we could discuss certain things before we bring Robbie into them. For instance, you could have asked me before you invited him to come to Wheatlands for the summer.”

  Kyle was silent for a few moments, and Layne actually wondered if he had heard. Then he swung the car off the freeway down into city traffic again, and said mildly, “If I had asked you, you would have said no.”

  “You wouldn’t have paid any attention, anyway.”

  “Probably not. So why bother to ask?”

  “Perhaps a better way to put it is that you could have warned me.”

  “Didn’t you expect it? It does seem only fair, Layne. You’ve had eight summers with

  Robbie. I’m only asking for one.”

  “For now,” Layne said bitterly. “And when next summer comes...”

  The Mercedes nosed silently into a parking space in a huge lot, and Kyle shut it off. Then he turned that devastating smile on her and said, “When next summer comes, I’ll take that one too.” He held her gaze for a long moment before he came around the car to open her door.

  Layne ignored his helping hand and slid out of the car. Kyle was not so easily avoided, however, and before she could slip away he had captured her hand and imprisoned it in the crook of his elbow. He held her firmly against his side, the whole length of her uneasily aware of his nearness.

  Halfway across the parking lot he stopped, and Layne was taken by surprise. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just stared at the building that lay before them, and for the first time she took a look at her surroundings.

  The long, low building was charcoal gray, and it seemed to melt into the landscaped

  background, the tiered parking lot surrounding it and making it look small. That was deceptive, though, Layne knew, for it took only one glance at the two-story entrance to recognize that this was North Winds Mall, the largest and newest in the city.

  She stole a look up at Kyle, not knowing what expression to expect on his face. Pride?

  Enjoyment of this achievement? Relief that the project was completed? But she couldn’t read his face, and he hesitated only a moment before walking on.

  “Robbie will be jealous,” she murmured.

  “Oh?”

  “That I got to see North Winds before he did. He’s been reading about it since the day you started excavating.”

  Kyle stopped and swung her around to face him. He stared down at her with a peculiar

  expression, and Layne dropped her gaze, unwilling to look directly at him. She wished that she could learn to keep her thoughts to herself.

  “Why?” he asked as they walked on.

  “What do you mean, why? Because he was interested in you.”

  “I mean, why did you let him? I have to thank you for that, Layne. You could have

  poisoned his mind about me. But you didn’t.” He held the big entrance door for her, his gaze speculative.

  Layne didn’t trust herself to answer. In truth, she told herself, she didn’t know why she had never given Robbie the sort of horrid details that would have made him unwilling to contact his father. And she was paying the price right now, wasn’t she? she told herself angrily.

  The high-ceilinged entrance was a huge atrium, with fountains splashing musically. Layne would have liked to stop and admire the goldfish, some of them nearly a foot long, that occupied the pools. But Kyle glanced at the big brass clock and said, “We’re late now. Felicity’s doesn’t hold a reservation very long.”

  Felicity’s. Not only the newest, but also the most elegant restaurant in the whole Kansas City area. So much for Kyle telling her not to dress up.

  The maitre d’ greeted them with a smile and guided them to a table off to the side, probably the best-placed one in the entire room for a private conversation. But of course. Kyle had always gotten that kind of service.

  She let the shawl slip off her shoulders on to the back of her chair, glad that she had borrowed Clare’s dress.

  Nothing Layne owned could live up to the atmosphere in Felicity’s, but in Clare’s dress she could get by. Then she thought, How illogical. Why are you trying to put on a front for Kyle?

  What do you care?

  “Champagne, I think,” he was saying to the maitre d’.

  “A very appropriate choice,” the man murmured, his eyes resting approvingly on Layne.

  “We have a lovely vintage that I’m sure Madame will enjoy.”

  Kyle nodded. “Whatever you recommend.”

  “Why champagne?” Layne’s voice was a little breathless.

  “Don’t you think we should celebrate? Finding each other after nine years... It seems like the proper thing to do.”

  “Finding Robbie, you mean. It’s not as if we’re having a reunion, after all.” Layne opened her menu.

  “That’s right,” he said thoughtfully. “I did forget to mention it to you.”

  Kyle had never forgotten anything in his life, Layne thought resentfully. “You forgot to mention what?”

  “That Robbie’s invitation is extended to you, as well. I want you to come to Wheatlands with him for the summer.”

  Layne’s heart jolted. She considered standing up and walking out of Felicity’s before this madman’s mind turned to axe murder. Why on earth Kyle thought she would ever again set a foot inside Wheatlands was beyond her.

  Then she realized her mistake. If she hadn’t objected to Robbie’s visit, Kyle would never have said anything to her about coming back to the house they had shared in those short months of marriage. It was merely his way of keeping her off balance.

  The result would be that she would be forced to agree amicably to Robbie going to live at Wheatlands – because if she continued to object, Kyle would merely point out calmly that she was welcome to come too, so what on earth was she complaining about?

  And once Robbie was at Wheatlands, Layne knew, there was no way Kyle would give him

  up again. She had been circumvented so neatly that she didn’t have an argument left.

  Kyle was looking at his menu, so he didn’t seem to notice that she had turned pale. “Let’s put off the serious discussion until after dinner. What would you like to eat, Layne?”

  There was nothing she felt less like doing than eating, but Lane glanced down at the menu and said the first thing that came into her mind. “I’ll have the lobster, please,” she said. If Kyle was going to play games, she thought rebelliously, he might as well pay the price.

  But he didn’t even blink as he repeated her order to the waiter and ordered a steak for himself. He handed over the menus, sipped his champagne, and asked, “What have you been doing for the last nine years, Layne?”

  She thought about trying to shock him, then decided that Kyle was probably unshockable.

  So she told the truth. “The whole list is so long that it would bore you to have to listen. For the last couple of years, I’ve been a secretary. Not very glamorous.”

  “Is that where you met what’s-his-name? Gary? What does he do?”

  “He’s a teacher.”

  “I should have guessed. He’s exactly the type. Being a secretary doesn’t bring in very good money.”

  “It’s been adequate.”

  “Why didn’t you ask me for an allowance, Layne?”

  “You must be joking. I wouldn’t take anything from you.”

  “You took my son from me, my dear,” he said softly.

  Layne took too large a drink of champagne and had to fight off a sneeze. Then, determined the conversation was not going to slip out of her control, she said, “How is your father, Kyle?”

  He was leaning back in his chair, studying her, and for a few moments she thought that he hadn’t heard her. “He has good days and bad ones; he is seventy now, you know, and he doesn’t get out much. He’s delighted, of course, to know that you and Robb
ie are coming home.”

  “I haven’t agreed to come back to Wheatlands.”

  “I stand corrected. You haven’t — yet.” His voice was smooth and undisturbed.

  “Wheatlands has seemed much too large in the past few years with just the two of us rattling around in it. He always wanted to see it filled with grandchildren.”

  “What a shame that you didn’t divorce me and satisfy his wishes, Kyle.”

  The waiter set a plate in front of her, and Layne shook out her napkin. It had been years since she had eaten food like this, and she planned to enjoy it no matter what Kyle said.

  “But now he has his fondest wish, Layne. He’s absolutely delighted that we produced a

  grandson for him to spoil.”

  It was a veiled way to tell her that Robbie would stay at Wheatlands. Layne didn’t bother to answer. She focused on her plate instead, savoring the mellow softness of the lobster tail.

  “It’s been a long nine years, hasn’t it, Layne? You were still a child when you left

  Wheatlands. Have there been men in your life?”

  “Jealous, Kyle?”

  “No. Possessive, perhaps. I never did like to share my toys.”

  She didn’t answer, but she was remembering the early days of their marriage, before the magic had been tarnished. It was a little difficult to breathe, she discovered.

  When she finally put down her fork with a sigh, he was watching her curiously. “It’s been a while since you had one of those, hasn’t it?” he asked.

  “You probably know to the day how long it’s been.”

  “I certainly know that you prefer lobster to steak,” he said mildly.

  “You never did like seafood, did you?”

  “If God had intended for me to eat fish he wouldn’t have arranged for me to be born in Kansas City.”

  The waiter removed their plates and refilled their coffee cups. “An after-dinner drink? And dessert?” he asked.

  Layne shook her head. “I couldn’t eat another bite,” she told Kyle. “And I prefer to keep my head clear. I’ve had too much champagne now.”

  “You sound suspicious of my motives.”

  “Oh, it isn’t only your motives. I’m suspicious of every single hair on your head.” A wave of memory swept over her as if she had been tackled, and Layne toyed with her water glass to keep her hand from reaching out to stroke his dark hair. I used to do that whenever I wanted, she thought, and the memory was actually painful.

  She picked up her spoon and put too much sugar in her coffee, just to keep her hands busy.

  “What if Robbie isn’t really yours, Kyle?” It was a question almost at random, asked just to see what the answer would be. Was there a shadow of doubt in Kyle’s mind?

  “There isn’t a judge in the country who would even order a blood test after he took a good look at the three of us, Layne.” He went on before she could say another word. “Do you really think I haven’t investigated? I had a busy afternoon, yesterday. I can tell you which hospital Robert Baxter Emerson was born in, on which day of the week, and exactly how many ounces he weighed. I even have a copy of his birth certificate. With my name on it, in case you’ve forgotten putting it there.”

  “I would have said that, no matter who his father was.”

  “Layne,” he said, “don’t try to make yourself look cheap. It isn’t going to work. In any case, even if Robbie wasn’t my biological son, he would still be legally mine, because you were my wife when he was born.”

  Layne sipped her coffee. “Is that why you didn’t get a divorce?” she asked, keeping her voice carefully steady.

  “It would have been an adequate reason, don’t you think?” He reached across the table and covered her hand with his strong tanned one. His voice was gentle. “I’m going to take my son, Layne. You know I’m not just saying that, don’t you?”

  The words branded themselves on her heart, and she knew as certainly as she had ever

  known anything that there was nothing she could say or do to change his mind.

  “Kyle! How unusual to see you here. I thought you said there were some problems at the office.”

  Layne looked up, knowing even before she saw the blonde beauty standing beside their

  table that Jessica Tate’s path had again crossed hers. Jessica’s eyes were bright with curiosity, and her gaze flicked curiously across Layne’s dress. At least I don’t have to be ashamed of Clare’s taste in clothes, Layne thought.

  Kyle rose, but didn’t let go of Layne’s hand. “Hello, Jessica. You remember my wife, don’t you?”

  “Of course,” Jessica cooed. “How could anyone forget Layne?” The words concealed a

  dozen meanings.

  Layne didn’t try to interpret; whatever Jessica had meant, it was certainly not a

  compliment. She attempted to slip her hand out from under Kyle’s, but he refused to let her go.

  “I’m glad to see you tonight, Kyle. I found someone to make the comforter we were talking about for the master bedroom at Wheatlands, but I can’t remember what you said — did you decide on one of those old quilt patterns? I think something modern would fit better into the decorating scheme.”

  “What about the Wedding Ring?” The words were out before Layne had a chance to

  consider the wisdom of saying anything at all.

  Jessica looked her over from head to toe. “I see the child has acquired a tongue in the last few years,” she said icily. “Perhaps you can drop by for breakfast in the morning, Kyle, and we can talk about it in peace. Along with the party we’re giving for Governor Howard next month.”

  She glanced pointedly at their hands, still clasped on the table, and swept off.

  “Drop by her house, or drop by her bedroom?” Layne asked. “Is she living at Wheatlands?”

  “If she was, would I invite you?” His grip on her hand loosened as he settled himself in his chair, and Layne pulled away.

  “Probably, if it suited your purpose.”

  He leaned back in his chair and studied her. Long before his scrutiny was over, Layne was uncomfortable, but she refused to let him know how much it bothered her. Finally he sipped his coffee and observed, “Your fiancé seemed to think that you’re afraid of me. Are you, Layne?”

  “Gary isn’t my fiancé.”

  “Are you afraid of me?”

  “When you talk about taking Robbie, yes.”

  “But not in any other way?”

  “No. Should I be?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead he flagged the waiter to refill their cups, and when the man was gone Kyle said, “How did Robbie know where to find me?”

  “Why don’t you ask Robbie?”

  “I’m tired of playing games, Layne.” Their eyes locked.

  Layne gave in first. She toyed with her spoon. “He saw you on television once and

  recognized the resemblance right away. He asked if you were his father.”

  “And you told him?”

  “I have never lied to that child, Kyle.”

  He swirled the remaining champagne in his glass— evidence, Layne thought, of how

  agitated he was, for normally Kyle would not have treated a good wine with such disrespect.

  “He caught me totally off guard, you know,” he said. “My secretary told me it was a

  personal call, and when I picked it up...”

  “Expecting Jessica, no doubt,” Layne inserted under her breath.

  “This scared little voice asked, ‘Are you Kyle Emerson? I’m your son Robbie.’ It was

  incredible, Layne. To know that I have a son — that my father will see his longed-for grandchild after all ...”

  To see the sudden solution of his problems, to know that he would not have to sacrifice Lucky Baxter’s estate to charity after all ...Yes, it must have been an incredible feeling, Layne thought. “I’d really rather not listen to all the sentimental stuff, Kyle.”

  He nodded. “Of course not. It can hardly be the s
ort of thing to touch your tender heart. Are you coming home this summer, Layne?”

  “Wheatlands has never been my home. Robbie may come with my permission. I won’t

  fight you anymore.” She stared into the bottom of her cup as she said it, knowing that she had just signed away her rights to her son.

  “What about you?”

  “No, thanks. You accomplished what you intended with the invitation.”

  “I intend that you will come to Wheatlands for the summer.”

  “Why? You’ve got what you want. You have Robbie, and even my guarantee not to tear

  him up over it.”

  “Leaving you behind will tear him up, too, Layne. Do you want to do what’s best for

  Robbie?”

  Layne dropped her spoon in shock. “I don’t believe what I’m hearing. You’ve known the

  child exists for a grand total of thirty hours, and suddenly you know what’s best for Robbie.

  What makes you the expert parent all of a sudden? Is it a product they sell in stores?”

  “I do not intend to have Robbie’s adjustment be made harder, as it will be if people are publicly wondering just where he came from, and if he’s really legitimate. You will bring him back and live at Wheatlands for the summer.”

  “Are you asking for a reconciliation? Because if you are, you can just forget it, Kyle. It was over when I left nine years ago.”

  “Of course it was over. And I don’t want to be married to you again any more than you

  want to be married to me. This is for appearances only, for the summer. On Labor Day weekend we’ll announce that our second try at marriage has failed, and that Robbie will be staying with me. By then he’ll have settled in and he’ll be comfortable at Wheatlands and ready to start attending his new school. And then you can go wherever you want with whomever you want, see Robbie whenever he wants to see you, and have your divorce. I’ll even pay alimony.”

  “My God, your generosity overwhelms me. I can see my son whenever he wants to see me?

  What about when I want to see him?”

  “Take what you can get, Layne. Because if you don’t do this, then we’ll fight it all the way through the courts — which you can’t afford — and we’ll follow the letter of the law when the divorce is final. And I’ll be more generous with a settlement than the judge will be, I’ll guarantee it.”