Forever an Eaton: Bittersweet LoveSweet Deception

by Rochelle Alers

  “Okay,” he mumbled.

  Zabrina glared at her son. “Adam, you’re still talking with food in your mouth.”

  “Sorry,” he apologized after swallowing. “Can I have another sausage, too, Mom?”

  “How many does that make?”

  “I only had two. And, they were small.”

  Zabrina didn’t want to call attention to Adam’s sudden increase in appetite, because for years he’d been a picky eater. Spending a month with his cousins had definitely changed his attitude when it came to eating. Tanya’s eleven- and thirteen-year-old sons were programmed to eat any and everything on their plates, including vegetables, or forfeit television and video-game privileges.

  She’d gotten up early to prepare breakfast for Myles and Adam before they set out for Pittsburgh. Myles had promised to show the boy the house and have a late lunch at his favorite Steel City restaurant before driving back to Philly where they would go out for dinner as a family unit for the first time.

  “What about you, Myles? Do you want more sausage?”

  Myles shook his head. “No thanks. I’m good here.”

  He glanced at his watch. It was close to seven-thirty and he wanted to be on the road by eight. With a little more than three hundred miles between Philly and Pittsburgh he hoped to reach his destination before one. Usually when he drove alone he tended to speed, but with Adam in the car he knew he would have to keep to the speed limit.

  The doorbell rang and everyone went completely still. “Are you expecting anyone?” he asked Zabrina.

  She lifted her shoulder. “It’s probably Rachel.” It wasn’t often Zabrina had early morning visitors. The exception was her neighbor.

  Rachel’s children were home after an extended stay with their grandparents, who’d indulged their every whim. It’d taken Rachel two weeks to get them back on a mealtime and bedtime schedule. She’d always had problems getting Shane and Maggie up in the morning so they would catch their respective school buses. Maggie and Shane’s return had curtailed their mother’s social life because her first date with Hugh had escalated to a minimum of two times a week.

  Myles stood up. “I’ll get the door.”

  Taking long strides, he walked out of the kitchen. He reached the door and peered through a sidelight. It wasn’t Rachel. Opening the door, he nodded to a diminutive man. His eyes, in a dark weathered face, were smiling and he looked as if he’d slept in his seersucker suit.

  “Good morning. May I help you?”

  “Does Zabrina Cooper live here?”

  “Who’s asking?”

  The man straightened as if the gesture would add an additional inch or two to his slight frame. “My name is Russell Newton. I am...was Isaac Mixon’s attorney. I’m retiring and my secretary was packing up my files when she found this.” Reaching into the inside of his rumpled jacket, he pulled out a white envelope. “Unfortunately, it was misfiled. It should’ve been delivered to Mr. Mixon’s daughter within six months of his passing.” He smiled, displaying a set of yellowing teeth. “But I always say, better late than never.”

  Myles extended his hand. “I’m Ms. Mixon’s fiancé. I’ll give it to her.”

  “No, no, no. I was instructed to give it to her personally.”

  He wanted to tell the man that he was more than six months too late. Isaac Mixon had died in his sleep last June, and pursuant to his instructions it should’ve been delivered to Zabrina on or before December. It was now early August, eight months later than the deadline.

  “Who is it, Myles?”

  He turned at Zabrina’s approach. “Mr. Newton is here to give you something.” Resting a hand at the small of her back, he dropped a kiss on her hair and then left her to deal with the odd little man.

  “Would you like to come in, Mr. Newton?”

  “No, no, no. I can’t stay. My granddaughter is waiting in the car for me. I just came to give you this.” He handed her the envelope. “It’s from your father.”

  Zabrina’s eyelids fluttered wildly. “What do you mean it’s from my father? Isaac Mixon died almost a year ago.”

  Russell Newton ran a gnarled hand over a pate with sparse patches of white hair. “Mr. Mixon came to me and asked me to help him draw up a statement. It’s not a last will and testament but more like a final confession. I witnessed it and so did my secretary.”

  “Why did you wait this long to give it to me?”

  “I told your fiancé that it was misfiled. I just retired and I’m transferring my client files to another attorney. I know your father wanted you to see this, so I decided to deliver it personally.”

  Zabrina managed a tight smile. “Thank you, Mr. Newton.”

  He gave her a shaky bow. “You’re welcome, Mrs. Cooper.”

  She watched the elderly man as he carefully navigated the porch steps and shuffled to the car parked behind Myles’s Range Rover. Waiting until the driver backed out of the driveway and maneuvered down the street, she sat on the rocker and opened the sealed envelope. There was a single sheet of paper with a small key taped to the back.

  Her eyes scanned the type, her eyes filling and making it impossible to see the words. Pressing a fist to her mouth, she bit down hard to keep from screaming. She didn’t believe it. She couldn’t believe it. She’d married and spent a decade with a depraved monster all for nothing.

  Zabrina was still sitting on the rocker, her fist against her mouth when Myles returned to the porch. He saw the letter and hunkered down next to her. “What’s the matter, baby?”

  She shoved the paper at him. “Read it, Myles. Aloud, so I can hear what I’ve just read, because I still don’t believe it.”

  Sitting on the footstool, Myles cleared his throat. “‘My dearest daughter. I’ve instructed Russell Newton to deliver this to you—call it my confession—within six months of my passing. I am sorry you had to sacrifice the love of your life because of me—all because I was too much of a coward to stand up to Thomas Cooper and his hired muscle.

  “‘Thomas set me up to take a fall because of what I saw. I walked in on him taking a bribe from John Gallagher, a small-time hood the Philadelphia Police Department and the feds have on their organized crime radar. I left, thinking it was over, but a week later I got a visit from a stranger with a message from Gallagher’s boss: Forget what you saw or your daughter will find herself placing flowers on her father’s grave. Thomas came to see me later that evening, talking about how he needed to improve his image with a wife before he officially announced he was a candidate for mayor. That’s when he mentioned your name. When I told him that you were engaged to marry Myles Eaton, he said that was of no consequence to him.

  “‘The sonofabitch concocted the story about me stealing from him, and then him having to pay off my gambling debts so I wouldn’t inform on him. I’ve never bet on anything in my life. I’ve never even bought a lottery ticket. I hate that you had to become a pawn in something so heinous and depraved and that my grandson was deprived of the love and protection of his biological father.

  “‘And if you ever had a question as to whether Emory Davidson would’ve shot me, then the answer is yes. Would he have killed me? No. But I doubt whether I would’ve been able to walk again. His trademark is leaving his victims crippled or permanently maimed. I wasn’t afraid for myself, precious daughter. I was afraid for you and the child you were carrying.

  “‘I’ve also told you that I believe in payback and you know what they say about payback: it’s a bitch. The key taped on the reverse side opens the jewelry box that belonged to your mother. I took photos of Thomas’s clandestine meetings that will shock a lot of people who’ve made Senator Thomas Cooper a demigod. Take the photos and this letter to the DA. I wish I could be there to see Thomas Cooper’s fall from grace, but if he goes before me, you’ll be free. And, if he goes after me, you still will be free
to live your life as you should have. I have one other request: please let Myles Eaton know that Adam is his son. Love always, Dad.’”

  Arms wrapped around her middle, Zabrina rocked back and forth as if in a catatonic state. She hadn’t read wrong. Her father had sacrificed himself not to save his life, but to save hers. Hers and Adam’s.

  “Myles is my real father.”

  Adam had come out onto the porch without making a sound. Zabrina stopped rocking and Myles stood, meeting the wide-eyed gaze of the boy who’d probably overheard what he’d read aloud.

  “Are you really my dad?” The last word was a sob.

  Myles nodded, because his constricted throat wouldn’t allow him to speak. The seconds ticked until he finally found the ability to speak the words. “Yes, Adam, I am your dad.”

  Adam took a step, his gaze shifting from his father to his mother. “When did you find out you were my father?”

  Resisting the urge to reach out and cradle his son to his chest, to tell him he would protect him as he’d promised to protect his mother, he said, “Your mother told me two days ago.”

  “Why didn’t she tell you before? That way you could’ve come and got me from Mr. Cooper.”

  Myles pushed his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. He wanted to comfort his son, reassure him the horror he’d experienced was over and would never be repeated. “If I’d known, Adam, I would’ve come to get you and your mother. No one or anything could’ve stopped me.”

  Adam pointed at Zabrina. “It’s her fault.”

  “No, it’s not her fault.”

  “Yes, it is. She should’ve called you.”

  Myles took a step and grasped his son’s hand. “Come into the house with me.”

  Zabrina shot up as if impaled by a sharp object. “No, Myles!”

  He gave her a chilling stare. Did she actually believe he would harm the boy? He hadn’t had to play daddy but knew he would be much better in the role than Thomas Cooper. “Stay out of this, Brina. My son and I have to talk.”

  The tension seemed to leave Zabrina as she sank back to the rocker. She blew out a breath. She had to trust Myles and she had to prepare herself to share her son with him. “I’ll be here,” she said in resignation.

  Myles winked at her as he opened the door and let Adam precede him into the house and back to the kitchen. Sitting at the breakfast nook, he sat opposite the boy who looked as if he were close to tears.

  “Adam, son, you can’t blame your mother over something she couldn’t control. She married and stayed with Thomas Cooper not only to protect you but also your grandfather.”

  Adam’s chin trembled. “But...but why didn’t she call you?”

  “Even if she’d called me I probably wouldn’t have taken her call. I was very, very angry with your mother at that time.”

  “Are you angry now?”

  “No, Adam. I’m not angry now.”

  “Do you love my mom?”

  An expression of tenderness softened Myles’s masculine features. “Yes, I do. I’ve always loved your mother. Even when I was angry with her I still loved her.”

  “Why did she lie, Dad?”

  Dad rolled off the child’s tongue as if he’d acknowledged Myles as his father for years instead of minutes. “She didn’t lie, son. Your mother couldn’t say anything because she believed your grandfather would’ve been arrested and sent to prison.”

  “Grandpa wasn’t bad.”

  Myles smiled. “No, he wasn’t. Your grandfather was one of the best men I’ve ever known.”

  Adam’s expressive eyebrows lifted. “You knew Grandpa?”

  “Yes. I knew your mother when she was just a little girl. She and my sister Belinda became best friends. Speaking of my sister, I want you to know that you have a couple of aunts, an uncle and twin cousins whom I’m certain will be glad to meet you. And then there are my parents, who are your grandparents. I’m going to have to warn you in advance that your Gram is going to act a little silly when she discovers she has a grandson.”

  “Does she have another grandson?”

  “No. She only has granddaughters.”

  “When am I going to meet them?”

  Adam’s query gave Myles pause. He’d emailed the Realtor, telling her he wanted to see the house that afternoon, and she’d juggled her busy schedule to accommodate him. “Most likely it’ll be tomorrow, because we have to go to Pittsburgh today.”

  A hint of a smile played at the corners of Adam’s mouth. “When am I going to meet my cousins?”

  “I’ll call their aunt and uncle once we get on the road.”

  “When are you and Mom getting married?”

  “Why?”

  Adam’s eyebrows nearly met when he frowned. “I don’t want the kids in school to call her names.”

  Myles, leaning over the table, gave his son a withering stare. “I don’t ever want to hear you call your mother a bad name. In fact I don’t want you to call any female a bad name. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, Myles—I mean, Dad. But all the boys at my school do.”

  “I don’t care what they say. No son of mine will ever disrespect a woman.” He put out his fist, smiling when Adam touched it with his. “To answer your question as to when your mother and I are getting married, I still don’t know. I called a friend who is a judge, but I have to wait for her to call me back. Right now I’m living in my sister’s house not far from here. I’m going to ask your mother if you can spend a few nights with me so we can do guy things.”

  Adam’s eyes narrowed. “What guy things, Dad?”

  Myles lifted his shoulders. “I don’t know. We’ll think of something.”

  “What about a burping contest?” Adam suggested. “I can burp real loud. But, don’t tell Mom because she gets real mad when I do it.”

  “It’ll be our secret,” Myles whispered. He laughed when Adam put out his fist for another bump. “Do you like dogs?” he asked his son as they walked out of the kitchen to return to the porch.

  “I love them. I wanted one, but Mr. Cooper was allergic to dogs.”

  “When we move to Pittsburgh I’ll let you pick out the one you want. Your cousins Sabrina and Layla each have a Yorkshire terrier.”

  “Those are girl dogs, Dad. Boys have big dogs.”

  Dropping an arm over his son’s shoulders, Myles pulled him close. “That’s my boy.”

  * * *

  Zabrina’s long wait to become Mrs. Myles Eaton was going to end within minutes. Dr. Dwight Eaton led her over the red carpet at the rear of Griffin and Belinda Rice’s house to where Myles stood with their son as his best man. She’d chosen a simple silk slip-dress gown with a seed-pearl bodice and a hem that flowed into a train. In lieu of a veil she wore a small pillbox hat covered with pearls.

  Judge Stacey Greer-Monroe, in a black robe, stood ready to begin the ceremony that would bind Myles and Zabrina together as husband and wife. She’d been vacationing at her Puerto Rico condo when Myles had called to ask her to officiate at his wedding. Leaving her daughter with her husband, she’d booked a flight back to do the honors.

  She was just as surprised as most Philadelphians when the news of the late Senator Thomas Cooper’s association with known and suspected criminals appeared in the headlines. She was grateful that Myles was moving his wife and son across the state to live in Pittsburgh where they wouldn’t be hounded by reporters and photographers.

  Stacey smiled at Dr. Dwight Eaton when he placed Zabrina’s hand in Myles’s outstretched one. She wanted to tell Zabrina that she was one of the luckiest women in the City of Brotherly Love, having captured the heart of a man destined to one day sit on the bench. What she hadn’t told Myles was that there was talk of appointing him to replace one of several judges who were rumored to be retiring in the very
near future.

  Zabrina smiled at Belinda, who was her matron of honor. It had been a long time coming, but both had managed to marry the men they’d loved for more years than they could remember.

  Zabrina’s Aunt Holly, Tanya and her husband and sons had driven from Falls Church the night before to meet the Eatons during the rehearsal dinner. Rachel and her children were warmly greeted by the Eatons. Myles’s college and law-school friends came despite the short notice, and Hugh Ormond had volunteered to prepare the food for the reception.

  She and Myles would enjoy a four-day honeymoon in Bermuda before returning to Philadelphia. They had another two weeks before they would close on the house, and the following week the fall semester at Duquesne was scheduled to begin.

  Their original plan—for her and Adam to remain in Philly until renovations to the house were completed—was scrapped, because Adam complained that he didn’t want to be separated from his father. Zabrina suspected the tree house, the promise of a dog and the hours he spent drawing with Myles were the catalyst for an almost instantaneous bond between father and son. They would live in one section of the house during the renovations and Adam would be enrolled in a private school less than a mile away.

  She smiled at Myles when he gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. Her voice was clear, carrying easily in the garden as she repeated her vows. “I take thee, Myles Adam Eaton, to be my lawful wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward.” She slipped a wide platinum band on his left hand.

  Myles’s baritone echoed as he repeated his vows, slipping a matching band on Zabrina’s finger. A shaft of sunlight reflected off the stones in her engagement ring.

  Judge Monroe winked at Myles. “By the power vested in me by the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Myles, you may kiss your bride.”

  Wrapping his arms around Zabrina’s waist, he lifted her off her feet and devoured her mouth as the assembled family and friends applauded and whistled. Passion and love were definitely sweeter and sexier the second time around.

  * * * * *