by Linda Warren
He clenched his jaw.
She hesitated. “Would you like to know something about the Braxton family?”
“No.”
She inclined her head. “Fine. I’ll call the lab and you can go in when you want.” He didn’t respond and she stared at him for a moment, then walked to her car.
As he watched her drive away, he sank down on the bench. He glanced down at the paper beside him. Ninety-nine point nine. How could that be?
Staring off into the distance, he saw cattle walking down the fence row to a water trough. He knew everything about each cow, who he’d bought her from, how old she was, how many calves she’d produced and when the calf was sold. He knew everything about his cows and his horses, but it seemed he knew very little about his own family.
He always thought he knew who he was. No matter what these test results said, he knew he was a cowboy right down to his soul. Even though he had different goals for himself than the ones laid out by his parents that didn’t mean they weren’t connected. Tom and Claudia Hayes were his parents.
Squeezing his eyes shut, he felt the red orbs of the sun sting behind his eyelids. Could the DNA be correct? Could he be someone other than Brodie Hayes? For the first time he let himself think about that possibility.
Opening his eyes, he removed his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow. Alex was right. He had to know the truth.
F ORTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER he walked through his mother’s front door. He found Cleo in the kitchen making dinner.
She glanced up from the stove. “Brodie, I didn’t know you were coming this evening.”
He took a seat on the rattan barstool and forced himself to relax. “I didn’t plan on it, but I thought I’d stop in to see how Mother’s doing.”
“She’s much better. She’s out playing bridge with her uppity friends.”
“That’s good. At least she’s getting out. I was going to talk to the doctor about her going through some depression.”
“Claudie’s not depressed. In her fragile state she’s used to attention, especially from me. If I coddle her, she’s right as rain.”
Brodie thought that was probably true. His mother had always needed lots of attention. She depended on Cleo. But that wasn’t what he wanted to talk about. He wanted to talk about his birth and found it difficult to bring up the subject.
“What are you cooking?” he asked instead.
“I made a fruit salad and a green salad and I’m grilling a chicken breast to go with it. I try to cook healthy for Claudie.”
“You take very good care of her.”
“Always have. When she was diagnosed with rheumatic fever as a kid, she couldn’t run and play and I felt bad.”
“So you made up for it by pampering her?”
“Sometimes. Other times she makes me so mad I want to strangle her, but she knows I’ll do anything for her.”
Brodie shifted uneasily on the stool. What would Cleo do for Claudia? Where would she draw the line? He didn’t like the thoughts running through his head. Time for some answers.
“I asked about my birth earlier, but I’d like to talk about it again.”
Cleo put the salads in the refrigerator. “Okay. What do you want to know?”
“You said you were with my mother when I was born.”
“Never left her side.”
“After you brought us home, we stayed with you until I was a week old, then you took us to the airport and saw us onto the plane?”
Cleo closed the refrigerator. “Not exactly.”
“What do you mean?”
“The night before Claudia was scheduled to fly out, Harold, my husband, called and wanted to meet and talk. I wanted to see him, too, hoping we could put our marriage back together. Claudia said to go; that she’d catch a cab in the morning to the airport and that’s what she did. She called later to let me know she’d arrived safely.” Cleo’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you asking all these questions?”
Brodie didn’t know how to answer that, so he pulled the DNA test results from his pocket, walked around the bar and laid them on the counter in front of her.
“What’s that?”
He took a breath. “It’s a DNA test saying I’m Helen Braxton’s biological son.”
“What!”
“Read the paper.”
She quickly scanned it. “Who’s Helen Braxton?”
“Her son was born five days after me in the same hospital. He was stolen from the nursery.”
“And she thinks you’re that son?”
“Yes. And the DNA test says I am.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Cleo shook her head. “If you’re supposed to be this woman’s son, where is the real Brodie Hayes?”
“I don’t know. It’s all very confusing.”
“It has to be some kind of scam or something because I was there when Claudie gave birth. We brought you home.”
“It doesn’t make any sense. That’s why I’m taking another test.”
“Good, that will solve this.” She turned toward the stove and Brodie caught her forearms, staring into her eyes.
“Tell me that I’m Tom and Claudia’s son.” He couldn’t keep that desperate plea out of his voice.
“Brodie, for heaven’s sakes, you are. I wouldn’t lie to you.”
He knew his aunt well enough to know she was telling the truth. He released her arms and swallowed hard. “I don’t understand any of this.”
“I don’t, either, but something’s not right. Why are these people trying to destroy your life and Cla…ohmygosh.” In a panic, Cleo slapped her face with the palms of both her hands. “You can’t let Claudie find out anything about this. It will upset her terribly and she could have a heart attack.”
“Don’t worry. I don’t plan on telling her anything until another lab runs the test.” Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t going back to the same lab. To make sure everything was on the up-and-up, he’d prefer a lab Ms. Donovan didn’t do business with on a regular basis. And he intended to let her know as soon as possible.
Chapter Five
When Alex pulled into her spot at the office the next morning, Brodie’s truck was in the parking lot. Her heart hammered against her ribs. All night she’d thought about him and what he must be going through. She wondered if his presence here this morning meant that he was ready to face the truth.
For someone so tough and fearless this sudden twist in his life had to be upsetting. She felt bad this was causing him so much pain. The last thing she wanted was to hurt him, but she couldn’t stop that now.
Grabbing her purse and briefcase, she got out. Brodie immediately swung his truck door open and walked toward her in his loose-limbed way. Without a word, he handed her a business card.
“That’s the name and location of a lab. They will do another DNA test. If you’d inform Mrs. Braxton, I’d appreciate it.”
“You want the test done at another lab?”
“Yes. To keep everything on the up-and-up.”
“Oh.”
“Nothing against you personally, but this is my life and I would prefer to use a lab that does not do business with you regularly.”
“Okay.” She respected his decision and the care he was taking with this. “I’ll let Mrs. Braxton know.”
“The lab will notify me, so we don’t have to have contact with each other.”
She looked up at him. “But I do insist on being notified of the results.”
“Of course.”
She squinted against the morning sun. “What if the test is the same?”
“It won’t be
.”
He was still in denial. When the truth finally hit him it was going to be twice as difficult. This cowboy was in for the biggest fall of his life.
Turning, he walked back to his truck and drove away.
In her office, she let out a deep breath, wondering what to do. How to tell Mrs. Braxton without breaking her word to Brodie? A good P.I. didn’t straddle the fence, working both sides, unless it was for a very good reason. She considered this a good reason. Brodie needed time and she was going to give it to him.
Picking up the phone, she called Mrs. Braxton. “Helen, this is Alex. Brodie would rather the DNA test be done at a lab he’s chosen. Could you please give another sample?” She read off the name and location.
“What’s going on, Alex?”
“Brodie insists the lab not have any connection to Donovan Investigations. He’s just staggered by the whole thing.” She wanted to be as honest as possible.
“I can understand that.” There was a pause. “Does this mean…”
“It means Brodie wants the DNA done on his terms. He’s not happy with this intrusion into his life.”
“Oh, my. I don’t want to upset him.”
“Helen, Brodie is already upset and it’s only going to get worse. He’s almost forty and secure in the life he’s been living.”
“My daughter tells me I should just let him be, but I can’t. I…ah…”
Again Alex felt this woman’s pain. “We’ll have the results soon and we’ll take it from there.”
“Okay. I’ll do the test today.”
“Thanks. I’ll be in touch.”
Now they would wait. But Alex already knew the results. So did Brodie. This gave him time, though. Time to adjust. Time to accept the unbelievable.
N ADDY WON fifteen hundred dollars on the slot machines and she and Ethel were staying a few days longer in Vegas. Alex knew better than to try and dissuade her. When she returned, Alex knew she wouldn’t have a dime of the money left. Naddy believed in living every day as if it were her last.
Alex and Buck worked on the new cases. Valerie Cryder was accused of killing her husband and two children. The DA hired them to go the extra mile on Mrs. Cryder’s life, digging through all the dirty laundry, so to speak. Buck was handling most of it.
She had two other cases going that took up a lot of her time—a woman who was allegedly cheating on her husband, and a man who might be fooling around on his wife.
Sometimes she didn’t understand why people got married—so much cheating and divorce. Everyone was looking for the same thing—happiness. It seemed a very elusive thing for most people.
She had the potential husband-cheater’s routine down. He worked for a large insurance company. He left the building every day at five minutes after five. He drove to a local bar and ordered bourbon and water. After one drink, he left the bar and went home. On those nights he worked late, he was actually working. In Alex’s experience, this situation was very rare. Most of the time the wife’s instincts were correct. Alex gave the wife her findings and she didn’t believe it. So Alex was still watching him.
The other case was a different situation. The wife met a man three times a week at a motel in plain sight. Alex always hated to reveal this kind of information, especially when children were involved. But it was what she was paid to do.
At the end of the week she helped Buck on the Cryder case. While she worked, Brodie was never far from her mind. Every day she waited for the lab to call and confirm the results. She was still waiting.
B RODIE UNSADDLED Jax and rubbed him down. In the heat he didn’t like to overwork him, but he’d spent most of the afternoon riding a fence line checking for a break. He checked his fences regularly because cows were known to perceive that the grass was always greener on the other side of the fence. They’d put their heads through the barbed wire and push until they could munch on his neighbor’s grass. Sometimes the older wire broke and he didn’t want his cattle straying onto his neighbor’s property.
He was glad he was busy. He didn’t want to think.
He led Jax into the corral and removed his bridle. The horse followed him, nuzzling his back as he poured horse feed into a trough. Gobbling the feed, Jax raised his head and neighed.
“You’re welcome,” Brodie said as if he understood what the neighing meant. And he felt pretty sure he did.
Butch and Buck drank thirstily from the water trough. “Come on, guys. I’ll feed you, too.”
The dogs followed him as he made his way to the house. Before he reached it, his cell rang. He saw the number—the lab. He took a deep breath before he clicked on.
An hour later he sat in his truck in front of the lab with the results in his hand. Ninety-nine point nine . That didn’t leave any room for error. That’s what the lab technician had told him. He was Helen Braxton’s biological son.
He drew in a breath that felt like a fishbone going down his throat—sharp, jagged and painful. Tom and Claudia Hayes weren’t his parents. He wasn’t Brodie Hayes, their son.
The truth of that finally sunk in and so many conflicting emotions tore at him. What had happened all those years ago? How did Helen Braxton’s baby end up with Claudia Hayes?
Numbly, he gazed out at the summer day. The sky was a brilliant blue and a lone oak tree took pride of place in a small courtyard to the side of the clinic. A woman and two kids sat there on a stone bench, probably waiting for someone in the twelve-story building. He saw them, but he didn’t see them. All his thoughts were chaotic and disturbed. He was at the crossroads of his life and what he did now would set the pattern for the years ahead. Of those two things he was certain.
He ran his hand over the steering wheel and hit it with his fist. Damn it all to hell. He wouldn’t let this rip him apart. He was stronger than that. He’d survived a bull throwing him against a fence, leaving him with cracked ribs and a broken collarbone. He’d survived several concussions and broken bones and he’d survive this.
Starting the engine, he thought about Colter and Tripp. They survived heartache, pain and family tragedy and so would he. Since Colter was out of town, he thought about calling Tripp, but he wasn’t that weak. He could handle this alone. The first order of business was confronting his mother.
All the way to her house he kept thinking he had to handle the matter with the utmost care. In his mother’s fragile health, he had to approach the subject very delicately. But he needed answers and he had to get them.
W HEN HE ARRIVED , Cleo and his mother were eating dinner.
“Brodie, darling,” Claudia said, smiling. “What a pleasant surprise. Have you had dinner?”
“No. I’m not hungry, but I’ll take a glass of tea.”
Cleo stood, her eyes on Brodie. The message was clear—don’t upset your mother.
“How have you been?” he asked, taking a seat and removing his hat.
“Much better. I’ve started playing bridge again.”
“That’s good. You need to get out more.”
Cleo set the glass in front of him, her eyes watching him like a hawk. He ignored her.
“Did you stop by for a reason, darling?”
“Yes. I’d like to talk about something.”
Cleo cleared her throat rather loudly.
“Are you okay?” Claudia asked, staring at Cleo.
“Yes. I just don’t want you to get upset.”
“Upset? Why would I get upset talking to my son?” Claudia glanced from him to Cleo. “Do you know what Brodie wants to talk about?”
“I’m not sure,” Cleo replied.
“Mother, do you know Helen Braxton?”
Clau
dia thought for a minute. “No. The name doesn’t sound familiar.”
“Brodie…”
Brodie held up a hand, stopping Cleo.
“I am your son. I believe that.”
Claudia’s eyes narrowed. “Of course you are.”
He pulled the DNA results from his pocket and unfolded it. “I’m going to show you something and I want you to stay calm. We can talk about this. Okay?”
“Okay.”
He laid the paper in front of her and saw that his hand shook slightly. His hands never shook, not even when he’d ridden El Diablo. He swallowed hard, forcing down his weakness. “This paper says that I’m Helen Braxton’s biological son.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Claudia brushed the paper away with a nervous laugh.
“I thought it was insane at first, too. But I’ve taken two DNA tests.”
“You are Tom’s son. Go look at your father’s picture. You look just like him.”
“I know, but DNA doesn’t lie.”
“In this case it does.” Claudia rose to her feet. “I don’t know why this Helen person is trying to steal my son, but she has the wrong man. You are Brodie Hayes.”
“Mother…”
“I don’t care what that test says. You’re my son. I gave birth to you. I’m not talking about this anymore.” Without another word, she walked to her room and quietly closed the door.
Cleo lifted an eyebrow. “She took that very well.”
“A little too well,” Brodie said. And he didn’t know what to make of it. He expected anger and resentment, not calmness.
“Just forget about that Braxton woman,” Cleo suggested. “You’re not a baby anymore.”
“I know, but someone stole Helen Braxton’s baby from the nursery. How did that baby end up with Claudia?”
“I don’t believe it.”
Brodie tapped the DNA papers. “This says otherwise.”
Cleo shrugged. “None of this makes any sense.”
“Yes, especially since Travis Braxton was born five days after me. There was no way the babies could have been switched in the nursery. That wouldn’t make any sense since the Braxtons’ baby was missing and the Hayes baby had already gone home.”