A Mother's Claim

by Janice Kay Johnson

  At the sound of muffled ringing, she hurried to the kitchen to dig her phone out of her purse. Nolan.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Hey. Ah, Christian just got an invite to a sleepover tomorrow night. This one from Ryan.”

  “The clumsy friend?”

  “No, that’s Eric. Ryan is scrawny and into computers. He’s played soccer, I think, but I suspect his father encouraged that.”

  “The classic geek.”

  Nolan laughed. “Yep. Fortunately, Christian has some geek in him, too. I’d like to see him reading more, but he’s buried in his laptop half the time.”

  She opened her mouth to ask if Christian had been begging for a phone to extend his digital reach...but realized she didn’t care. Not right this minute. What Nolan had really called to tell her was that they could have a sleepover tomorrow night, too. They’d both have to get up early for work the next day, but so what?

  “Would you like to come to dinner?”

  “I would love to come to dinner.” He hesitated. “I don’t want you feeling obligated, but I like the days you’re around at work, too.”

  He was talking about Saturday, even though she’d be around all day Sunday for the birthday party. “Free,” she teased.

  “That doesn’t hurt,” he agreed, a smile in his voice. But the smile was gone when he said, “I just like knowing I can turn around and there you’ll be. I’ll see you cocking your head as you puzzle over all the jargon some young hotshot is throwing at you and the smile that brings him to his knees the same way it does me. Or your back as you walk away. Your amazing legs and the sway of your hips and the way you carry yourself, with such pride.”

  She clutched the phone, a tightness growing in her chest. Nobody had ever said anything like this to her.

  “I love the sight of you soaked to your knees and sandy, feeling good because you just pulled off something else you’ve never done before.” His voice dropped another octave. “Then there are the times I turn to find you looking at me. My head empties of whatever I was thinking. There’s just you.”

  When he fell silent, Dana whispered, “You’ve made me cry again.” She blinked hard.

  “And I’m not there to put my arms around you.”

  “Tomorrow.” She took a deep breath. “And Saturday. Because...I like spending the day with you, too, even if we hardly have a chance to talk.”

  “Good.” He made a ragged sound—a cleared throat? “I don’t plan to do a lot of talking tomorrow night.”

  Pleasure squeezed deep in her abdomen, had her toes curling. “Sleep tight,” she said, sultry in a way she didn’t recognize.

  “Fat chance,” he said hoarsely. “Good night, Dana.”

  He was gone. She stood in the middle of her kitchen, aching for him.

  He couldn’t have said all that if he didn’t mean it. Not Nolan. She’d been right to let go of the suspicion her mother had roused.

  And she needed to get to bed, considering how little sleep she was likely to have tomorrow night.

  * * *

  THURSDAY EVENING, CHRISTIAN appeared in the living room without the usual preamble of feet stomping on the stairs. Instead of sitting down, he hovered in the doorway. “That was my father. On the phone.”

  Nolan nodded. He’d recognized the caller’s voice. Resented having to hear it. For all the neutrality he struggled to present to Christian, Nolan had developed a deep antipathy for the man who intended to take his place.

  His attitude wasn’t helped by the fact that Craig Stewart hardly acknowledged his existence. From the beginning, Dana had understood she needed to build a relationship with him, not only with her son. She had talked to him. Listened to him. Craig didn’t so much as say, Hi, Nolan. Gabriel available? No, it was always a crisp May I speak to Gabriel? His tone suggested irritation that he had to go through an intermediary. Nolan was surprised he hadn’t bought an expensive smartphone for Christian and shipped it to him.

  Nolan set aside his laptop. “He have anything special to say?”

  “I told him about my birthday party.” Christian looked unhappy. “He wants to come.”

  Oh, hell. If anything would spoil the day more than a cloudburst, that would be it.

  “What did you say?”

  “I didn’t know what to say!” Christian cried. “I just...” His voice dropped to a mumble. “I don’t know what I said.”

  Uh-oh. “We’d better warn Dana.”

  “He sounded kind of mad.” Christian hunched his shoulders. “I called her...you know. Mom.”

  Yes! Now if Christian would only call her that to her face.

  Nolan dragged his mind back to the man he considered enemy number one. “He didn’t like that?”

  “He got really icy and said he’d talk to her.”

  Nolan clasped his hands behind his head when what he really wanted to do was lunge for his phone. He nodded at it. “Why don’t you give her a quick warning call?”

  Christian’s eyes went to the phone, but he kept hovering where he was. “Do you think I should?”

  Nolan raised an eyebrow.

  The kid dragged himself over. Instead of taking the phone to make his call privately, he plunked down at the other end of the sofa and dialed.

  Nolan maintained the pretense of relaxation.

  After a minute, Christian set down the phone. “It’s busy. I’ll bet it’s him.”

  Nolan bet it was him, too. The SOB who had gotten over the loss of his son in no time at all and ditched his wife because she wasn’t willing to move as fast. And, sure, that might not be entirely fair; Craig hadn’t carried the baby for nine months, and he hadn’t stayed home days with him. Or, Nolan suspected, gotten up nights with his son. He had to get his rest, after all, because his work was so important. Had he so much as changed a diaper?

  Nolan was a little ashamed to admit he hoped not. He resolved to ask Dana.

  “She can handle him,” Nolan said. “Don’t worry about it.”

  The brown eyes beseeched him. “What if he wrecks my birthday?”

  “How can he?” Nolan said simply. Sure as shooting, the jackass would bring the perfect birthday gift: a smartphone. “Him being there will be more uncomfortable for Dana than it will be for you.” He smiled. “You’ll be too busy building...?”

  “A dinosaur,” Christian said with a burst of enthusiasm. “I was thinking, like, a stegosaurus’s back, only I have to figure out how to do the triangles that stick up.”

  “You might find some how-to advice online,” Nolan suggested. “You probably should look and share what you learn with all your friends.” Who had all thought the idea of building sand sculptures was awesome.

  Christian bounced to his feet. “I’ll do that right now.” Halfway out of the room, he turned back. “I told you Dana is going to bake the cake, right?”

  Nolan smiled. “You did.”

  “I bet she makes a great one!”

  This time, those oversize feet thundered on the stairs.

  * * *

  DANA STEWED FOR half an hour before she let herself call Nolan.

  “Hey,” he said. “Did your jerk of an ex reach you?”

  “You knew?”

  “Christian tried to call to warn you. Apparently Craig got to you first.”

  Sitting in her big upholstered chair, she drew her knees up. Because it was comfortable, she told herself, not because she needed comfort.

  “Did he tell Christian he’s coming out here?”

  “For his birthday.”

  “Craig is furious because I hadn’t let him know that Christian—excuse me, Gabriel—has decided to admit I’m really his mother. It didn’t help that Christian told him about my parents’ visit.” She sighed. “I can’t really blame him about that. They
shouldn’t have had the chance to see him before Craig did. He’s Christian’s father.”

  How strange that it seemed wrong, even offensive, to call her son by his birth name. And I swore I’d never think of him by the name she gave him.

  But she was Nolan’s sister. A deeply troubled human being. Christian had loved her. When forced to see the truth, she’d killed herself.

  Dana almost felt...pity for Marlee Gregor. Not that she’d ever admit as much to Craig.

  And Christian... Well, that was who her son was now.

  “It was inevitable he’d show up,” Nolan said, sounding wonderfully unperturbed. “Do you suppose he’ll announce he’s filing for custody right when we’re lighting the candles?”

  Almost able to see it, she hugged her knees. “It’s dumb that I’ve let him become some kind of bogeyman. I loved him. I married him.” Her voice softened. “He loved Gabriel, too.”

  His silence made her think about what she’d just said. Did he not like her saying she’d loved Craig?

  “You’re never dumb. I don’t want to hear you saying that,” Nolan said sternly.

  It was her turn to gather her thoughts. “He could take Christian away from both of us.”

  “How can he, if we stand together?” Nolan said, his voice so tender she closed her eyes and imagined it was a touch, warming her skin, giving her courage. “You’re his mother. I’m the only father he’s ever known. And no judge would disregard what a boy Christian’s age wants.”

  “No. Of course not. I may be wrong about what Craig intends, anyway. No matter what, he should get to know his son.”

  “I agree. Which is why I grit my teeth and hand the phone to Christian every time the guy calls.”

  She was able to laugh, stepping back from the cold anger in every word Craig had spoken. Saying good-night, Dana felt amazement at how much had changed since the first time she came to Lookout and met hostility from both Nolan and Christian. Now Nolan spoke as if standing together was a given. And Christian had told his friends about her. He wanted her around. He hadn’t called her Mom yet, but he would. He would.

  In a way, she’d be glad to get this first meeting with Craig over with.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  DANA PATTED WET sand into place. She was having a blast, and to heck with Craig. If he wanted to sulk, let him.

  Somewhere along the way, the sand sculpting had been opened to parents, too. Some had joined in, while others formed an enthusiastic audience. If she turned her head ever so slightly, she’d be able to see Craig, standing at a distance from anyone else. Apparently crawling around in the sand was too undignified for him. The impression he gave was one of impatience. With a hint of sadness, she remembered a trip to Galveston Island in Texas, when the two of them, young and in love, had built a sandcastle. They’d stayed, hand in hand, to watch the tide turn and the castle wash away until only smooth sand remained.

  He’d been so patient with her late in the pregnancy, when her feet and ankles swelled and she needed help getting up. And in the months after they brought Gabriel home, too. Craig had called at least once a day to be sure they were all right, brought takeout dinners a couple of evenings a week. He would sit for hours with Gabe asleep against his shoulder, his expression tender.

  The man he’d been would have joined the dad team, which seemed to be trying to build a giant football helmet. Or he’d be going from group to group, like Nolan was, urging sunscreen on the boys, encouraging and helping and laughing.

  Maybe the fault was hers, because she hadn’t suggested Nolan give Craig a role today. It hadn’t occurred to her yesterday evening during that first tense encounter.

  Craig hadn’t liked her being there. She couldn’t tell him Christian had begged her to stay. It had been odd seeing him after so long, still handsome, still lean and athletic. Her first thought had been a startled He has Christian’s eyes. Which she knew, of course; the first time she saw Christian, she’d thought he had Craig’s eyes. Now...this man was a stranger. It didn’t feel as if it had been him she’d kissed, made love with, laughed and quarreled with.

  If he had shown any hint of regret when he looked at her, she might have felt old guilt, for shutting him out in the depths of her grief. But all she saw was a cool assessment, followed by faint irritation.

  Even the parents of Christian’s friends all knew now that she was his mother and that his father would be here for his birthday party. The ones who were watching instead of playing in the sand were probably sneaking peeks at him. Maybe self-consciousness was what gave him that aloof, snobby air.

  Nolan crouched beside her and held out the tube of sunscreen. “You’re turning pink,” he said, sounding amused.

  Dana sank back to her haunches, wiped her sandy hand on her shorts and accepted a white glob from him. As she started spreading it, he offered some to the three other women working on the octopus that reached one long, tentacled arm toward the water. All three accepted.

  Then he dabbed some onto the tips of her ears. “Having fun?” he asked in a low voice.

  “Yes.” She glanced toward the stegosaurus. “Is Christian, do you think?”

  Nolan nodded. “This was a hit. You notice how many people have walked over from the inn to watch? Not to mention every customer at the store. Pictures are probably all over the internet already.”

  “Too bad we have such a killjoy here,” she muttered.

  Nolan followed her gaze. “He’s an idiot. If he’d joined in, he would have scored points with Christian.” He shrugged. “Do you suppose he’s as much fun at his daughters’ birthday parties?”

  She laughed at his careless dismissal of her ex-husband. “Maybe their parties are appropriately dignified.”

  He pushed his sunglasses up so she could see his eyes. “You mean their mom isn’t crawling around in the sand, ass waggling, getting sunburned and, hey, having fun?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Waggling my ass?”

  His wicked grin sparked a whole lot of inappropriate ideas in her. The soft rumble of his voice in her ear didn’t help. “It may be just me noticing.”

  She gave her hips a tiny wriggle, just to be mean. “What a shame the house will be filled with preteen boys tonight. How many is it? Ten?”

  Nolan groaned. “You sure you don’t want to spend the night?”

  “Not a chance. A, I wasn’t invited, and B, it’s a manly job. I’d kill the atmosphere.”

  Ryan’s mother nudged her shoulder. Laughing, she said, “Quit flirting. You’re the mastermind. We need you.”

  “Right. Moms rock.”

  “Moms rock!” the other three chanted.

  The nearest boys jeered as, laughing, Nolan beat a retreat.

  Forty-five minutes later, all four women fell back when the piercing whistle blew.

  “Time!” Nolan called. When everyone quit sculpting, he said, “This wasn’t a competition, so we should admire everyone else’s work.” He held up a phone. “I’ve taken pictures and will email them to everyone.” He half turned toward the other parents. “Anyone else who gets a good one, please do the same.”

  “I think I’ve been turned on the spit a few too many times,” Dana said, feeling heat in her face.

  “Me, too.” Jason’s mother, Ellen, touched her nose gingerly. “I swear I added suntan lotion every half an hour. How can I be burned?”

  “I’m not,” Tomás Acero’s mother said smugly. “That’s what you get for being so pasty.”

  Dana stuck out her tongue and giggled when she saw Ellen doing the same.

  Above her, her son exclaimed, “Yours is awesome! Uncle Nolan, did you see Mom’s octopus?”

  “Hey!” Juanita Acero complained. “There were four of us.”

  Dana grinned at her. “But I’m the mastermind, remember?”

&nbs
p; Laughing, Sylvia flicked sand at her. Dana bent sideways to avoid it.

  And then she heard it again. Did you see Mom’s octopus?

  Mom’s.

  Me. He called me Mom in front of everyone. And she absolutely could not cry here and now.

  * * *

  NOLAN WATCHED DANA absorb the casual way Christian called her Mom. She met his eyes, stunned pleasure on her face.

  And then she had the sense to scramble to her feet and say, “I want to see yours,” instead of making a big production out of the moment.

  He took a look around, too, although he’d been able to watch all the sand creations from the get-go.

  Christian’s stegosaurus had been a more ambitious project than the octopus, and the boys had accomplished miracles. The one actual castle was impressive, as was a sports car. And the football helmet—well, at least it had a recognizable Seahawks emblem on the side.

  The nonparticipant parents now wandered, too, as did some of the inn guests and other strangers. There were catcalls, laughter. And satisfaction.

  Finally, Nolan whistled again and said, “Let’s go back to the house for pizza and cake. Any of you parents who want to join us, feel free.”

  He heard Christian saying, “At least there’s no tide to wash these away,” and hoped no older teens would feel compelled to destroy their creations. It wouldn’t shock him—but this was private property, the beach protected from sight by the building that housed Wind & Waves.

  What would be, would be.

  He saw Christian hesitating, obviously wondering what he should say to his father, and made a point of walking over to Craig Stewart. “You’re welcome to ride along with us. I can run you back later.”

  The man nodded stiffly. “Thanks, but I think I’ll drive myself.”

  “I’d suggest Christian ride with you, but the rental company might not appreciate all the sand.” The kid was coated in it.

  Craig glanced at his son, his eyebrows rising above dark glasses a lot pricier than Nolan’s. “You have a point.”

  O-kay. Nolan took that as permission to sling an arm around the birthday boy’s shoulders and steer him toward his old Suburban while Craig set off on the path that led to the inn parking lot.