A Mother's Secret

by Janice Kay Johnson

  “No. My parents just…parted ways.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…!”

  He shook his head. “Just an observation.”

  Sure it was. She had been careless—cruel even—to remind him that his own parents hadn’t cared enough to battle over him.

  Which, Rebecca wondered, would be worse?

  “I think,” she said with difficulty, “that after me, my mother didn’t want to have another baby. The pregnancy was really difficult, and she spent the last six weeks of it on bed rest. Maybe she was scared. But Dad really did want more children, and eventually she let herself get pregnant again.”

  “To hold on to him?”

  Rebecca gave a small, painful shrug. “Maybe. Only then, when she was big and clumsy and probably scared to death, Dad had an affair.”

  Daniel swore. “That son of a bitch. And, no, I won’t apologize, even if he is your father.”

  A faintly incredulous laugh released some of her tension. “You don’t have to. Mom never forgave him. I never forgave him, and I didn’t even know why they split up, not until years later when I overheard them screaming at each other.”

  “How old were you?”

  She blinked. “Oh…Maybe twelve or thirteen? What difference does it make?”

  “Not a great age to find out what a bastard your father was.” He sounded thoughtful.

  “No.” Remembering, she repeated, “No. But I’m not sure there is a good age to learn something like that.”

  “Couldn’t you have handled it better as an adult?”

  She frowned. “Maybe. Yes. Of course I could.”

  “Did you decide then and there that no men were trustworthy?”

  Jolted, Rebecca argued, “That’s not what this is about.”

  “Isn’t it?” He looked at her without pity. “You decided when you found out you were pregnant that your kid was better off without a father.”

  “No, I decided my kid was better off without a father who’d never loved me! Who wasn’t interested in commitment or family! That seems to me to be a reasonable decision.”

  They were once again silenced when their food arrived. Rebecca smoldered as Daniel thanked the waiter, gave the napkin a practiced flick and laid it across his lap. He picked up his fork. “The food is good here.”

  “I know. You brought me here once.”

  His face became even more expressionless, if that was possible. “Ah. I’d forgotten.”

  She, too, spread her napkin on her lap and picked up her own fork as if she was actually interested in her pasta.

  “Does your sister know your mother didn’t want to have a second baby?” Daniel asked.

  “No. I don’t think so. I mean, I can’t be sure, but I never told her.”

  His expression was once more grave, the anger banked. “How old were you when your parents split up?”

  “Eight.” She gazed unseeing at her food. “They tried to patch things up. Lea was four when Mom finally took us and moved out.”

  “And then?”

  “And then Dad filed suit claiming she was an unfit mother. She accused him of abuse. Lea and I had a guardian ad litem. Judges took us back to chambers to ask what happened when Daddy got mad at us, or whether Mommy went out sometimes at night and left us alone.”

  “What did happen when Daddy got mad?” Daniel’s voice was quiet, lethal. “Did Mommy leave you alone at night?”

  “Nothing happened. No, she didn’t. It was all…all made up. They were both okay parents, when they remembered they loved us.”

  “And when they didn’t?”

  “Then…” Her shoulders rose and fell, as she remembered desolation as arid and jagged as a field of long-cooled lava. “Then we were weapons, or maybe the battlefield, I’m not sure. Neither of them ever stopped to think, Rebecca is doing great in school this year. Maybe this isn’t the time to reclaim custody. Or, Lea is starving herself to death. Am I part of the problem?”

  “Your sister’s anorexic?”

  Rebecca nodded. “She’s okay now, but it’ll be a lifelong battle. She’s stayed close to Dad and won’t even return Mom’s phone calls. I’m not sure why. Maybe she senses that he wanted her and Mom didn’t.”

  “Or maybe he told her.”

  Stricken, Rebecca stared at Daniel. “Oh, God. He would tell her that her own mother didn’t want her. She never said, but I’ll bet he did.” Thinking back, she calculated. “She started dieting right after some judge returned custody to Mom. Lea was maybe fourteen. She didn’t want to go. Well, neither did I. I was a senior in high school that year. I got to graduate from a new one with a class of strangers. So I suppose…”

  Now she read pity in his eyes, although whether it was for her or for her sister, Rebecca didn’t know. Very quietly, he said what she was thinking. “She was controlling what she could.”

  “I can’t believe I didn’t realize! Oh, it was obvious that getting yanked around one too many times was the trigger. But at least I knew Mom did want me.” She made a sound in her throat. “But if Lea thought Mom didn’t really love her, that she was just trying to hurt Dad…” Her teeth ground together. “I’ll kill him!”

  “The thought hasn’t occurred to you before?”

  “I try very hard not to think about my parents at all.”

  “Eat,” Daniel ordered her.

  She looked down numbly. Her food was getting cold. She took a bite, discovered how good the pasta was, and took another bite. Seemingly satisfied, Daniel ate, too.

  Until he stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth. “Does Malcolm see much of them?”

  She shook her head. “They know I have a son. I don’t see either of them.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.” He took the bite, swallowed, and asked, “Lea?”

  She was able to smile. “Yeah, Aunt Lea is almost as popular as Aunt Nomi. And she has better taste in clothing.”

  His mouth twitched. “No flowered pants?”

  “Definitely not. Flowers aren’t slimming.”

  “Why didn’t I see much of her? No, wait. She was abroad most of that year, wasn’t she? Tokyo.”

  “Right. She works for Thurman International.”

  “I do remember that she doesn’t look much like you. Model thin…” He stopped, grimaced. “Is she really a blonde?”

  “More or less. She stayed blond through college. I suspect she helps it along these days.”

  “There was something…” His brows drew together. “Fey about her.”

  Fey. What an odd word for him to have chosen, and yet…accurate. She’d sometimes thought her sister lacked substance. There’d be moments when Rebecca would glance up and swear she could see right through Lea. As though there was a visible Lea, the one she had made of herself through the agonizing years of recovery, and then there was the ghostlike one inside, the child and woman who had tried to fade into nothingness.

  Suddenly Daniel scowled. “I was just wondering how we’d gotten sidetracked onto the subject of your sister, but you meant her as an object lesson, didn’t you?”

  “No.” Rebecca bit her lip. “I didn’t plan…I didn’t actually plan what I was going to say today. But it’s true. I hated my childhood, even though it didn’t destroy me the way it did Lea. I couldn’t protect her, but Malcolm…” Her voice broke. “I can’t let anything hurt him.”

  “I’m not your father.”

  “No, you’re his father.”

  He shook his head. “So you really don’t believe a divorced couple can provide stability and love without one of them giving up rights to the children.”

  Flushed, Rebecca said, “Of course I know it’s possible to…well…at least do better than my parents did. But you have to admit, growing up while hopping between Mom’s and Dad’s isn’t ideal.”

  “Growing up without a father isn’t ideal, either,” he said flatly.

  Rebecca stared. “You do care, don’t you?”

  He carefully laid down his fork. “About Malcol
m? And whether he grows up thinking I don’t give a damn?” A muscle in his cheek jerked. “Yeah. I care.”

  “Oh,” she said softly, her greatest fear yanked out from under her as if it had been a rug. The floor beneath was hard and unyielding. “I thought, maybe, you just wanted him because you were angry at me. And because he’s yours.”

  “I’m not…” He stopped, briefly closed his eyes. “No. I can’t say I’m not angry. I am. But I suppose, uh, I can understand why you ran the way you did.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered. Her heart felt squeezed in a vise.

  “Anger won’t help us cooperate for Malcolm’s sake.”

  “No.” Still, her voice came out as a thin thread. “It won’t.”

  “Will it help if I promise never to use him to get at you?”

  She bobbed her head.

  “I won’t criticize you to him. I can promise that much.”

  She barely hesitated. “I won’t, either. I mean, you to him.”

  “Is he ready to find out I’m his father?”

  She wanted, so desperately, to lie. “Maybe,” she said, her voice low. “Yes.”

  He nodded, watching her. “I can be patient.”

  She did know, all too well. With difficulty, she said, “Maybe it’s not Malcolm I’ve been waiting for.”

  “Maybe it’s not.”

  “You have been nice,” she admitted, almost inaudibly.

  “I’m not the bastard you seem to think I am.” He uttered a sound that might have been a laugh. “Funny, when it turns out I am a bastard after all.”

  “I’m sorry,” Rebecca said, painfully aware of how inadequate the words were.

  Daniel shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. It’s not as if Vern was a devoted dad.”

  “If he had been…well, then he would have been your father in every way that counted, wouldn’t he? No matter what the DNA test says. And then this…well, maybe this really wouldn’t have mattered to you.”

  He stared at her for a moment. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “I suppose that’s true.”

  “This Robert Carson might not have had any idea you were his. Unless…” She frowned. “Do you look like him?”

  He shook his head. “Joe does. The jaw, the shape of his face…I have my mother’s coloring, which muddied the waters.”

  “You passed it on to Malcolm.”

  “Except for the eyes. He has your eyes.”

  She nodded. “But every time I looked at him, I saw you.”

  “I didn’t forget you,” he said unexpectedly. “Every couple of months, I thought about calling you.”

  “But you never did, or you would have known I moved.”

  “No. I’d pick up the phone, but…No.”

  It wasn’t any mystery why he hadn’t called. He must have sensed that she had fallen in love with him. Perhaps he hadn’t gotten bored with her at all; it might only be that since he didn’t share her feelings, he thought it best to make sure she didn’t expect something that wouldn’t happen. But then…why had he considered calling her? He met other women all the time. With his powerful build, riveting light eyes and commanding presence, finding a new lover wouldn’t be much of a challenge for him. So why had he ever given her another thought?

  She wanted to know, and she didn’t. It would hurt to find out that all he’d missed about her was the sex. Yes, the attraction between them had always been potent. It was still there, a tug he obviously felt, too. But later she’d realized that her helpless response wasn’t just physical. Any slight tenderness in his eyes, the gentleness of his touch—or the sheer desperation she sometimes awakened in him—had wrenched her emotions and meant she had given herself to him utterly.

  Consciously, he may never have known she was his, heart and soul, but on some level he must have been aware. She had given him more than most women would or could. Maybe that had just plain made the sex better.

  Looking at him across the table, Rebecca thought, I can’t do that again. I can’t. I have to remember how much it hurt when he started making excuses. When I made the choice to disappear. And then, No matter what, I can’t let myself be tempted.

  And so, she didn’t ask why. Why didn’t you call? Why did you keep thinking about me? Wouldn’t ask.

  “You might start thinking about how often you’ll want to see Malcolm. We should agree on a parenting plan to…to avoid trouble later.”

  “I can do that. Just remember, I’m prepared to take this slowly. I’m not going to push our son into anything he isn’t ready for.”

  Our son. Her womb cramped at the acknowledgment that they had made a child together.

  She managed to nod. “Okay. Thank you.”

  Lines deepening on his forehead, Daniel asked, “Did we accomplish anything here? Whatever you hoped for?”

  “Yes.” Rebecca offered him a smile that was still complicated, still crooked, but more genuine than any that had yet curved her mouth today. “I needed reassurance.”

  “I’m…not a jackass.”

  Why the hesitation? Because he didn’t want to use the word bastard again, not in reference to himself?

  But she didn’t let herself wonder long.

  By unspoken agreement, as they sipped their coffee neither mentioned Malcolm or family. Daniel talked about the economy and the impact fears of recession were having on the price of houses. She told him about a twin she had in her class, who kept almost entirely to himself.

  “Putting Sean and Ian in separate classes hasn’t helped. Sean might be slightly more social, but not much. I worry. They can’t possibly be enough for each other.”

  “They’re identical?”

  She nodded.

  “Somewhere I read about a set of identical twins who married identical twins. It was as if only people like them could truly understand them.”

  She shivered. “Or who didn’t need real intimacy themselves, because they already had it with their own twin. Ugh. I’m not sure you’ve made me feel any better.”

  “But maybe they are content, unto themselves.”

  “Maybe.”

  What about him? Rebecca wondered a minute later as he ushered her out of the restaurant. Was he content, entirely unto himself?

  Probably, she thought bleakly, he’d eventually meet the love of his life. Why should she assume he was solitary by nature or choice, just because he hadn’t fallen in love with her?

  Malcolm. Focus on Malcolm. It was her funny, smart son that mattered, not her own wounded ego.

  “Where are you parked?” Daniel asked.

  She gestured. “I’m just a couple of blocks—”

  “I’ll walk you.” His tone made plain that argument wouldn’t dissuade him.

  She didn’t say much as they traversed the city sidewalks, and neither did he. But the entire way, she was nerve-pricklingly aware of him beside her, strolling to match her shorter stride. Rebecca wished she knew what he’d been like as a little boy. Had he been as verbal as Malcolm? Quieter, more guarded? If he’d felt unloved, how had he acquired the confidence that was as much a part of him as the color of his eyes or the strength in his big hands? If only his brother Adam was still alive, she would have had someone she could ask, but now there was no one. Something told her that Vernon Kane, the man who’d given Daniel his name, knew him less than even she did.

  They reached her car. Rebecca dug her keys out of her purse and faced Daniel.

  “Thank you for making time for me today.”

  He frowned, but so briefly she thought she might have imagined it. Or as if he was annoyed at himself, not her. “It wasn’t a problem.”

  “We haven’t made any plans,” she said awkwardly.

  “No. I wasn’t sure what to suggest next.” He moved his shoulders in a shrug, or maybe just a gesture of discomfiture. “I have no idea what little boys enjoy doing.”

  She blinked. Daniel, unsure of himself? “But…you were a little boy.”

  He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “A long time ago. And
I’ve got to tell you, I don’t have many memories from before—”

  He shut up so quickly, she guessed. “Your dad left?”

  “Vern left,” he corrected her.

  “Oh. Well…Mal likes story times, and playgrounds, and the beach.” Daniel already knew that. “The zoo. We should go to the zoo one of these times.” Not we, she realized, her heart sinking. He should take Malcolm to the zoo. That was the kind of thing he would enjoy enough to make up for her absence. Then inspiration struck her. “Could you show us your job site in El Granada? He really is enamored of big trucks these days. And bulldozers. I’ll bet he’d love to see it now, and then later once the houses are going up.”

  Daniel nodded, relaxing. “Sure. How about Saturday? We could have lunch down at Princeton-by-the-Sea. Maybe go for a walk on the breakwater.”

  She smiled. “Mal would love that.”

  They agreed on a time. Before she could become self-conscious, Daniel bent his head and kissed her cheek.

  “Thanks,” he murmured, voice gravelly and pitched for her ears only. Then he walked away, leaving her to stare after him and press her hand to her cheek.

  Wondering—oh, no!—what he would have done if she’d happened to turn her head just then, and their mouths had met instead.

  What a fool she was.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “THAT’S REAL BIG.” Malcolm eyed the bulldozer with respect. The gaze he turned on Daniel was more calculating. “It’s your bulldozer?”

  With rueful amusement, Daniel felt his chest swell with pride. Yes, my son, behold: all that you see is mine and will someday be yours.

  So to speak. Of course, the houses and the lots they sat on would have long since sold and these particular pieces of equipment would be rusting in a junkyard by the time he left his construction empire to his son. And, of course, there was an excellent chance Malcolm wouldn’t be interested in his father’s line of work. Hell, the kid might want to be a rock star or a marine biologist.