by Dana Corbit
His words struck her like repeated blows to the heart. She braced herself, hoping to deflect the pain, but it seeped in through every pore. He was right; she didn’t know what it was like to be betrayed that way, although the betrayal she’d experienced had been painful enough. He was right about the other things, too, including that she’d been afraid to ever risk her heart again.
But on one matter, Mark was dead wrong. She had taken a risk. Despite impossible timing. Despite all of the warnings she’d given herself. Despite everything. She’d taken that risk for him. She’d allowed him to chisel away at the wall she’d built to shield her heart and then granted him admission, trusting him not to hurt her. She should have known better.
“But you do know about blaming other people,” he said.
Shannon had been staring at her hands, but at his words, she looked up at him again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You blame everyone else for your mistakes. You never take responsibility for your part in the situations.”
“That’s rich coming from you,” she spat. “Have you looked in the mirror and then back at your divorce decree? It’s easy for you to blame your ex-wife for her indiscretions, but are you blameless in the collapse of your marriage? She said you were married to the job. Have you ever thought that while you were out chasing commendations for a decorated police career that she was home alone waiting for you to realize that she mattered?”
Mark shifted, sitting taller in the seat. “If you haven’t seen yourself in that mirror, I would look again. You have nobody to blame but yourself for becoming involved with a creep when you knew he was one. And you’re the one who got pregnant, though obviously you couldn’t get there alone. Your folks might have made big mistakes dealing with their pregnant daughter, but the mess was yours.”
Shannon gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut, watching multicolored spots dance inside her eyelids, before she could finally look at him again. “I suppose it was also my fault that Blake’s adoptive parents had their rights terminated and he ended up bouncing around the system for years?”
He shook his head. “I never said that. But I am saying that you need to stop blaming everyone else for the things that were your responsibility. Blake deserves better than that from his mother.”
“You mean from his birth mother, don’t you?” She slammed her hand on the dash so hard her palm ached, but she didn’t care. “You’ve judged me from the minute you set eyes on me. You’ve never thought I deserved the chance to build a relationship with my son.”
“Are you kidding? I’m the one who’s made it possible for you to build something with him by giving him a place to live.”
“You’ve stood in the way every chance you’ve had, too. Well, thanks for stepping up to be his foster parent, but you won’t have to deal with him, or me, much longer. As soon as the court grants me custody, neither of us will ever bother you again.”
With that she threw the door open, climbing down the step. But Mark’s words followed her out into the cold before she could close the door.
“Why do you think you should be given custody of Blake when you voluntarily gave him away?”
Chapter Fourteen
Mark felt as if he’d parked his truck on his chest instead of on the driveway by the time that he pushed his front door open and stepped inside. Why he’d had to take that final unacceptable jab, he didn’t know, but if the whole argument had gone too far, the last had made the rest seem like a friendly disagreement. The worst part was he’d wanted to hurt her, just like her actions and words tonight had cut him more deeply than a switchblade ever could. And from the way she’d slammed the truck door and had run to her car, he’d done a bang-up job of it.
Shannon deserved it. She’d used him like a pawn in a silly game of revenge where everyone got hurt. He should have known better than to put so much stock in the meeting with her parents. The night was supposed to be about Blake, anyway—not him. Yet he’d allowed himself to believe that she was making a statement about the future she wanted with him, as well. Worse than angry and betrayed, he felt duped.
Yes, she’d deserved the things he’d said, but that didn’t make him feel any less like a heel. He wanted to take it all back, but it was too late. The words had been destructive. And hers had been dead wrong. Whatever hope they’d had for a relationship was gone, as well. No one could come back from the things she’d done, the things they’d said. Like a roller-coaster ride, they’d squeezed a whole relationship into a single night: the anticipation of the first hill, the heights and the dips of the ride and the screeching halt of the end.
The darkness in the living room came as a relief. Blake was a smart boy. He’d probably jumped into bed and covered his head with a pillow. Who could blame him? He might eventually want to talk about the scene at his grandparents’ house, but Mark planned to give him a free pass tonight. He wanted one of those himself.
He’d made it to the center of the living room, just behind the sofa, when the table lamp in the corner flipped on with a click. Mark blinked at the sudden intrusion of light. Blake sat in the old plaid recliner, his sock-clad feet elevated, crossed at the ankles.
“You blew it, didn’t you?”
Mark rested against the back of the sofa and tilted his head to the side. “What are you talking about?”
Blake lifted a brow. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe that whole knock-down-drag-out argument you just had under the truck’s dome light with Miss Shannon.”
He indicated the window through which he’d had a perfect view of the two of them inside the truck.
“You watched the whole time?”
“There wasn’t anything good on TV.”
But the leftover crusts of a peanut-butter sandwich and the empty glass of milk on the table showed that he’d found something to entertain himself with at least part of the time.
“Did you fight about me?” Blake asked quietly.
“Among other things.”
“Did you win?”
Mark could only shake his head.
“Did she?”
Tilting his head to the side, Mark lifted a brow. The boy understood far more than he’d realized.
“No, I don’t think anyone won tonight.”
But he’d definitely lost. Then as Shannon’s words from earlier filtered through his thoughts, it became clear that he wasn’t the only one. Everyone who ever loves you. She’d all but admitted that she loved him, and no matter how much he’d refused to admit it, he loved her, too. As if that could matter now. The sudden pain in his chest was visceral, as if he was being ripped apart on the inside while on the outside he appeared untouched. Sure, he loved her, but he couldn’t be with someone as unbending and unforgiving as she was. He couldn’t.
Blake was still watching him when he looked up again, and the kid grinned at him though tonight hadn’t given any of them a reason to smile.
“I don’t get something,” Mark said. “You of all people have every right to be furious with Shannon for throwing you in her parents’ faces. But you aren’t, are you?”
“Why should I be? She just did what she thought she needed to do to make a statement.”
“But she used you to do it.”
“I guess so.”
The boy’s lack of indignation only bothered him more. “But that was the way you had to meet your grandparents.”
“I always like to make a great first impression. Remember the way I met my... Miss Shannon?”
Mark couldn’t believe his ears. After everything Shannon had done to him tonight, Blake was still tempted to call her his mom.
“Was it strange meeting the people who’d insisted that your mother give you away?”
“Sure, it was strange. I tried to remember that back then they were parents, just trying to do wha
t they thought was best for their kid, who’d made a big mistake.”
“You were not a mistake.”
Mark’s own words surprised him, coming out louder and with more intensity than he’d planned.
Blake chuckled as he flicked off the lamp. “Good to know, Trooper Shoffner. Now I have to go to bed. Tomorrow’s a school day.”
“Blake,” he called after him until the boy stopped. “You don’t really blame your mom for the things that happened to you after she placed you for adoption either, do you?”
“Nah. She couldn’t have known.”
“Have you ever thought about telling her that? I’m sure she’d like to know.”
“Yeah. I could.”
Mark continued to watch Blake’s figure in shadow as the boy went up the stairs. It didn’t make any sense. The same angry boy who’d come to the area to pummel with blame the adults who’d wronged him had forgiven them all so easily. Why couldn’t he do that? He was the Christian, so how was it that a troubled kid who hadn’t made his peace with God yet was teaching him about forgiveness?
Mark rounded the sofa and slumped into the cushions in the dark. The boy becoming his teacher was ironic, but it was just as ironic that he’d convinced himself he couldn’t be with someone as unforgiving as Shannon was. And yet he was just like her.
He shoved his hands back through his hair, replaying their hateful accusations. Her words had been biting, but they were also true. It was so easy for him to blame Kim for the failure of their marriage without taking any responsibility for his role in it. How could he have had time to put the necessary work into a marriage when he was so busy chasing the impossible approval of his parents, who weren’t even there to give it? Had she been lonely all those nights while he’d worked late? Sure, his ex-wife would never be blameless in the situation, but he’d helped to build the trap that had ensnared her. For the first time, he was ready to take responsibility for his role and to finally forgive her.
Was he also ready to forgive Shannon? If Blake could do it, so could he. That was what people who loved each other did. And he did love her. Until this moment he hadn’t realized how much. The woman he’d held in his arms just twice was the only woman he could ever imagine in that space for the rest of his life. So he hated the sinking feeling that his love wouldn’t be enough to restore this broken picture. He hated the awful things he’d said, particularly the one about her giving up her child. How could he have been so cruel as to attack her where she was most vulnerable? Things once said couldn’t be unsaid, and the one he’d spoken had been the worst of all.
For several seconds, he cradled his head in his hands, wishing there were something he could do. And then he realized that there was. He wasn’t sure if he and Shannon could ever get past what had happened tonight, but there were still some things he could do for the woman he loved. He could be there for Blake, ensuring that the boy remained close by until he could finally build a home with his mother. He had to make sure that the boy wasn’t moved to a more permanent foster home in the meantime. That meant he had to complete his certification.
Checking the time on his cell phone, he wondered if it would be too late to call tonight. But he couldn’t wait until office hours, and someone had made the mistake of giving him her personal cell number, so he dialed it. When a sleepy Miss Lafferty picked up on the third ring, he smiled. Yes, he could do this one thing for Shannon and Blake. He would always want more than this, but he would have to satisfy himself with the knowledge that he’d done the right thing at least once.
* * *
“What’s wrong, Miss Shannon?”
At the sound of Kelly’s voice, Shannon blinked, and she squeezed harder on the door frame that she was using to hold herself up. The rest of the world beyond its firm wood surety—the walls, the desks, the windows—were in a constant state of sway. She’d lost the man she loved last night through her own stupidity, and now she’d lost her son as well, through a situation that was beyond her control.
“Are you okay?” Chelsea rushed over to her at what in advanced pregnancy passed for top speed and tucked a hand under her elbow. “I know you had a phone call. Did you get bad news?”
“Here, let me help.”
Holly took the other elbow, and they led her to one of the computer chairs the other girls had set out for her. Absently, Shannon noticed it was the same chair where Holly had been sitting two weeks before when the girl had first felt her baby move. Where Shannon had experienced those last few minutes while her secret was still hers alone and while the meeting she’d planned with Blake was still somewhere in the far-off future, still pristine in its possibilities. Even knowing everything she knew now, even knowing this horrible call would come, she wouldn’t have changed a thing about that day.
“Is it Blake?” Tonya asked, pushing up her glasses on her nose. “Or is it Mark...er, Trooper Shoffner?”
Shannon shook her head as she tried to sit up in the seat, her head spinning as if she’d stood too quickly. “It’s nothing. They’re fine. Everyone’s fine. Really.”
Kelly kneeled in front of her and looked into her eyes. “You don’t look fine.”
Shannon forced her best smile, blinking hard to push back the tears that would give her away. “Well, I am.”
She scanned the concerned faces around her. The last thing she needed was to send the girls into a tizzy and set off a chorus of Braxton-Hicks contractions in those girls nearing full term.
“Now, isn’t this a little backward, girls? I’m supposed to be taking care of you.”
“And you do a great job of it,” Sam told her. “Most of the time. But who takes care of you?”
Who, indeed? She used to think she didn’t need anyone. That she was safer, happier even, relying only on herself. Now she’d had a taste of what it was like to have arms ready to catch her when she lost her footing, and she couldn’t imagine returning to that solitary existence. Still, that was what she had to do.
Tonya squeezed in front of the others and held out a small stack of pink message forms with While You Were Out emblazoned across the top. “A couple of calls came in while you were on your cell phone in the other room.”
Reaching for them, Shannon was relieved that she managed to grasp the papers without sending them flying all over the floor. Two were from her parents, but she wasn’t ready to talk to them yet. She owed them an apology, and she would need to prepare herself for that. Two more were from different troopers at the Michigan State Police Brighton Post, each requesting times for bringing out groups of volunteers for service projects. The fifth was from Mark. Unlike the first four, with their dutiful recordings of times, dates and return numbers, the fifth had only Trooper Shoffner listed on the name line and Call ASAP on the message line.
It didn’t matter that she was still reeling from last night’s events or that his parting crack had foreshadowed the news she received this morning. She still had to return his call. After the things they’d both said last night, he never would have called if it weren’t important.
“I’d better take this in my office.”
She stood, relieved that her legs were somewhat sturdy beneath her. As she started from the room, she selected Mark’s name from the list of contacts on her cell and pushed Send. He answered on the second ring.
“Shannon? What is it? Is everything all right?”
She glanced back over her shoulder toward the girls, but all of them had picked this particular moment to focus on their computer terminals. The gesture was sweet, even if it was ill timed. One of them had recognized that she’d needed someone and, guessing that Mark was the right person, had ensured she would have the chance to speak to him. Two days ago they would have chosen right.
“I’m okay,” she said on a sigh. “I got a message that you’d called, but it must have been a mistake.”
It didn’t feel
like a mistake, though, talking to him again, hearing the quiet strength in his voice. She should have had more pride. He’d used that voice to say the most hateful things to her last night, things intended to hurt her as much as she must have hurt him. But she longed to have him next to her now, that voice near her ear, telling her that everything would be all right.
“Well.” An awkward pause filled the phone line before he finally spoke again. “It’s...uh...good that you called. I...um...was getting ready to call you.”
“You were?” A few hours ago, she would have given anything to hear those words, even like this when he sounded uncomfortable speaking to her. In her dream, he would have said that last night was a horrible mistake, and they could begin again, pretending it never happened. And it would have made a difference. Now it couldn’t.
“I have news about Blake.”
“I’ve already heard.”
“She called you?”
Shannon blinked. “She?” They both knew her family law attorney was male.
“Miss Lafferty.”
“No. Um...I heard from my attorney.”
“Wait. Does this mean you received the DNA results?”
“He started out the conversation, ‘Do you want the good news or the bad first?’”
“Oh.”
Mark had begun a conversation with Blake that same way right after he’d first arrested him, on a day when the good news offered hope and possibilities. From his silence, he must have understood that this time wouldn’t be like the one before.
After what seemed like a lifetime in ticking seconds, Mark cleared his throat and spoke up again.
“You don’t mean that Blake’s not really your—”
“My son?” She hadn’t realized that he might jump to that conclusion. Since she’d never questioned it, she was surprised that after everything he could have any doubt. “Oh, he’s my son, all right. The test results said that I was ‘not excluded from maternity,’ and there was a 99.92 percent probability that I was his biological mother.”