The Secret Heir

by Gina Wilkins

  Telling them to have a seat in the den, Laurel headed for the stairs. Had Donna really believed she would try to keep her away from Tyler? Perhaps Donna had thought Laurel would take pleasure in Jackson’s temporary estrangement from his mother—and she was sure it would be temporary. But if Donna thought Laurel would take advantage of a crisis to split up a family, then she really didn’t know her well at all.

  She had never wanted to break up the Reiss family, she realized as she stood outside Tyler’s bedroom. She had simply wanted to be accepted as one of them. And it had been as much her fault as theirs that it had never worked out quite that way. Maybe she had subconsciously pushed them away from the start because she was so accustomed to rejection by family that she’d been trying to protect herself from being hurt again.

  She had often blamed Jackson for the rift, telling herself that his impossible comparisons between her and his mother kept Laurel from wanting to be close to the woman. That had been unfair, she saw now. She had used Jackson’s closeness to his family as an excuse—perhaps because she had so desperately envied that closeness.

  Now that his family was threatened, she couldn’t bear the thought of breaking those ties. For Jackson’s sake. For Tyler’s. And for her own last chance at belonging to a supportive, loving extended family who accepted each other for who they are, without trying to change them or have them prove their worthiness of love.

  Maybe they could be that kind of family, after all, she thought with a rush of hope. Once Jackson got over his hurt and accepted that his mother had made mistakes, maybe they could all forgive Laurel for the mistakes she had made in holding them at arm’s length for so long. And maybe she and Donna could finally learn to see each other as friends, and not rivals for the affections of Jackson and Tyler.

  But they had a way to go before they could reach that idealized goal, she reminded herself, still the experience-scarred pessimist. Jackson had to reconcile with his parents before Laurel could have the chance to do so herself.

  Jackson arrived home even earlier than Laurel expected. His parents were still playing in the den with Tyler, and she had just taken dinner out of the oven when Jackson came into the kitchen from the garage.

  “I saw the truck outside,” he said by way of greeting. “Is he here?”

  “Yes, your father is here,” Laurel replied, emphasizing the relationship. “And so is your mother. She wanted to see Tyler, so Carl brought her over. Can you believe she was afraid I wouldn’t let her in to see her grandson?”

  Without saying anything, Jackson set his briefcase on the counter.

  Laurel lifted an eyebrow. “Jackson? You wouldn’t expect me to turn them away, would you?”

  “No, of course not.” He pushed a hand through his hair. “Did they say how much longer they plan to stay?”

  “I’m going to ask them to stay for dinner. I made plenty for everyone.”

  A frown drew his eyebrows downward. “Oh.”

  She sighed and placed her hands on her hips as she faced him. “This is ridiculous. You can’t keep avoiding them. I don’t care what happened more than thirty years ago, Carl and Donna Reiss are your parents. You love them, they love you, and nothing will ever change that, no matter what. Now would you please stop sulking and deal with this like the man Carl raised you to be?”

  Carl spoke from behind her before Jackson had a chance to defend himself. “In case I haven’t mentioned it before, I wholeheartedly approve of the woman you married, Jay.”

  Fifteen

  Laurel turned. Carl leaned against the doorjamb, his arms crossed over his sturdy chest and a bland look on his face that was probably intended to mask his uncertainty as he searched Jackson’s expression.

  She glanced back at Jackson, seeing a similar anxiety reflected in his eyes when he looked at her. Then he said to Carl, “I don’t think any of us have made it clear enough during the past few years that Laurel deserves our admiration and respect.”

  Laurel’s face warmed in embarrassment, but Carl merely nodded his agreement with Jackson’s comment. “No, we haven’t. We seem to have a problem with communication in our family. We don’t talk enough about important things. We don’t tell each other often enough how we feel about each other. Heck, when I tried to tell you at the hospital how proud I am of you, you thought I must be dying.”

  Laurel thought that must have been a very interesting conversation. She would have left them to talk alone now, but Carl still blocked the doorway. Staying as inconspicuous as possible, she stood very still as Jackson said, “I shouldn’t have had to find out like this.”

  “No, son, you shouldn’t have,” Carl replied heavily. “I’m real sorry for that, and so is your mother. We hope you can forgive us someday, and that you’ll understand that we did the best we knew how at the time.”

  “Do you really think we can go on as if nothing at all has changed?” Jackson asked. “Mom said this guy wants to meet me now that he knows about me. What am I supposed to do about that?”

  Carl shrugged, then spoke with his usual bluntness. “Nothing has changed. As Laurel just pointed out, we have thirty-one years of history between us. You are my son, and I wouldn’t love you one bit more if we had the same blood type or DNA. Now, as it happens, there’s another man who does share those things with you. If you want to meet him and your half siblings, that’s up to you. Your mother doesn’t want you to have anything to do with them, but I told her she needs to leave that to you. You’ve got a right to know them if you want to. Doesn’t mean anything has to change between you and your mother and me.”

  Laurel held her breath as she waited for Jackson to respond. He took his time about it. After all, Carl had conveyed quite a lot in typically few words.

  Finally, Jackson nodded and straightened away from the counter where he had been leaning. Even if it were due more to imitation than inheritance, Laurel thought his expression looked very much like Carl’s when he said, “For the past three years, I’ve tried to be the kind of father to Tyler that you were to me. Maybe I need to change a few things, like not working so many hours and being more willing to talk about important things, but I still think I couldn’t have had a better role model. I just hope someday Tyler feels about me the way I do about you.”

  Carl swallowed hard, then reached out to lightly punch Jackson’s arm. His version of a hug, Laurel thought wryly. “We’re straight, then?”

  Maybe it wouldn’t be quite as easy as Carl obviously hoped, but Jackson seemed to know Carl needed reassurance. “Yeah, Dad. We’re straight.”

  “And your mother? Are you going to forgive her, too?”

  Jackson hesitated. “I can’t deny that I’ve had a hard time reconciling what she told me with the woman I’ve always believed her to be.”

  “She’s exactly the woman you thought she was.” Carl spoke with a touch of heat now, obviously ready to defend his wife. “She made some mistakes when she was a kid—hell, I made more than a few, myself—but she’s been a damned good wife to me and mother to you. Excuse my language, Laurel.”

  She nodded, faintly amused by yet another display of Carl’s old-fashioned gallantry.

  “Anyway, I never blamed Donna for falling for Jack Crosby. The guy’s smooth as satin, and she wasn’t the only young woman he deceived, I’m sure. I was glad to be there when she needed me, and in return she’s given me thirty-one years of happy marriage. And don’t you go doubting that she loves either of us, Jay. It didn’t take long for me to teach her the difference between a slick operator and a real man.”

  This time Laurel had to suppress a smile. As usual, Carl had stated his opinions without arrogance or tact. Laurel thought it must be nice to be so confident in one’s beliefs.

  “Laurel?” Donna stepped into the doorway, looking from one of them to the other as if trying to guess what they had been talking about. Though she continued speaking to Laurel, her gaze remained on her son’s face. “Tyler’s starting to complain that he’s hungry.”

 
Laurel didn’t budge. In a moderated voice she replied, “Dinner’s ready. Jackson and I would love for you and Carl to join us, Donna. There’s plenty for everyone.”

  “Sure smells good,” Carl said.

  “We wouldn’t want to intrude,” Donna murmured, still looking at Jackson, unsure and anxious.

  Seeming to come to a resolution of some sort, Jackson moved toward her. “Don’t be silly, Mom. Laurel and Tyler and I want you to have dinner with us. We’ll call it a celebration dinner. After all, he’s out of the hospital and our family is all together again.”

  Donna’s eyes flooded, of course, but she managed a smile, probably knowing that neither her son nor her husband would appreciate an emotional scene. “Then we would be delighted to stay.”

  He leaned over to brush a gentle kiss across her cheek. Laurel knew, as Donna must, that Jackson would need a little more time to come to terms fully with what he had learned, but he was still the same man he had always been. He loved his family, and he would never do anything deliberately to hurt any of them.

  No matter how badly he himself had been hurt.

  Donna turned to Laurel. “What can I do to help you, dear?”

  Normally Laurel would have politely declined any offers of assistance, wanting to prove that she could handle serving dinner on her own. The way she had always done everything else. This time she smiled a bit shyly and replied, “You could help me set the table and put the food out, if you want.”

  Donna seemed both surprised and pleased that Laurel had actually accepted her help. “Yes,” she said. “I’d be happy to do that.”

  “I’ll go get Tyler washed up,” Jackson offered, heading for the door.

  “I’ll help him,” Carl said, tagging right behind his son.

  “Shirkers,” Laurel called after them, making them chuckle in unison as they disappeared.

  She didn’t usually tease much around her in-laws. With them she was more likely to suppress her natural tendency to be the clown who made people laugh—her way of making them like her. Maybe she’d been secretly afraid that teasing wasn’t the way to win her in-laws’ affections, and she hadn’t known any other way except to be good and quiet and cause them no problems.

  Now she believed she had been wrong to hide from them who she really was. There was still a risk that they wouldn’t grow to love her, of course, though she and Carl seemed to be off to a good start now. Still she should at least give them a chance to know the real Laurel before they decided how they truly felt about her.

  Maybe in being less guarded around her husband and his parents, she could get to know the real Laurel Phillips Reiss a bit better herself.

  “It was a nice evening, wasn’t it?” Jackson’s voice was a low, satisfied rumble in the darkness of their bedroom later that night.

  Her cheek on his bare shoulder, Laurel nodded as she remembered the family dinner. Tyler had been the center of everyone’s attention, of course, and he’d made the most of it, chattering and performing with uninhibited enthusiasm. His cheeriness had made it easier for the adults to put their issues away and enjoy the meal together.

  The usual stilted courtesy between Laurel and her mother-in-law threatened to make an occasional appearance—four years of habit were hard to break, Laurel had discovered—but she had made a determined effort to keep the conversation light and friendly, and Donna had cooperated fully.

  The whole evening had been very much what she had always fantasized a family meal should be like during her childhood, when she had spent so many evenings alone eating cereal in front of a television and wondering if her mother would be home before dawn.

  Donna had looked much better when she left than when she had arrived, and Carl was grateful enough that he went so far as to kiss Laurel’s cheek on his way out. The gesture had been enough to bring an ache to her heart, but it was a pleasant ache.

  Jackson and Laurel had spent the rest of the evening playing with Tyler. Together they had tucked him into bed—and then they had retired to their own bed, where they’d made love with the new commitment that made every kiss so much more special.

  She was still recovering from the effects of that lovemaking when he cleared his throat and said, “There’s something I haven’t had a chance to tell you yet today.”

  Was he going to start talking about Texas again? Because she still hadn’t decided if she was ready to leave everything she’d accomplished here—even a budding new relationship with his parents—and move so far away. “What?”

  “Someone delivered an envelope to me at the job site today. It was a note from Jack Crosby. I don’t know why he chose to approach me that way.”

  She lifted her head, blinking at him in the shadows, trying to see his expression. “What did it say?”

  “Just that he would like to meet me—and you and Tyler, too. He expressed regrets that we haven’t met before this, and said he would like the chance to do so now. He said he’s glad Tyler’s going to be okay, and that he’ll make sure his other four kids are warned about the possibility of themselves or their offspring inheriting the condition. And he said there’s some more family medical history he could tell me, if I’m interested.”

  “It sounds very…cordial.”

  “Exactly. I wouldn’t be surprised if he dictated it to a secretary.”

  “He’s a powerful businessman. He’s probably accustomed to people doing what he asks.”

  “He’s going to find out I won’t be one of the people who jumps at his bidding.”

  “So you aren’t going to meet with him?” she asked, careful to keep any emotion out of her voice.

  He hesitated a long while before answering. “I haven’t decided yet. I can’t say I really want to get mixed up with the Crosbys, but then again, Tyler has the right to know these other relatives. His aunts and uncles and cousins. I don’t want to be guilty of the same thing my folks did to me—withholding information that could come back to take him by surprise later.”

  “How many half siblings do you have?”

  “Four, according to the letter, two of each gender. They range in age from six years older than me to four years younger. That’s all I know about them.”

  “You told me once that you always wished you had a brother. Now you have two of them.”

  “I don’t know, Laurel. We’re all adults. They grew up together, but I would be a stranger to them. I can’t imagine they would welcome me warmly into the fold.”

  “You never know. They could be delighted to meet their new brother.”

  “Right. The one who was born somewhere between the four of them, only proving that dear old dad was a philanderer.”

  “I’m sure they’ve already dealt with that. Didn’t your mother tell you he finally left his wife for another young mistress? I can’t imagine they would blame you.”

  “I keep trying to imagine how I would feel if my dad were the one to show up with an adult son, conceived after he married Mom. I’ve got to be honest, Laurel, I’m not sure I would throw my arms around the guy.”

  She couldn’t help smiling. “As if that would ever happen. I doubt that Carl has ever even looked at another woman. And I’m not sure you would even want any of your brothers to throw their arms around you.”

  “That might be a little freaky,” he admitted with reluctant amusement.

  “But aren’t you even curious about them?”

  “Maybe. A little.”

  He was, she could tell. But as Carl had said, it was up to Jackson whether he wanted to meet those people who shared his bloodline. She wouldn’t push him one way or another.

  Snuggling her cheek into his shoulder again, she told herself that it didn’t really matter how many other people he brought into their lives. They were truly together now, a team. It was all she had ever really wanted.

  Two weeks later Laurel and Jackson met his biological father together. They had left Tyler in the care of Donna and Carl, who were both nervous but resigned about Jackson’s decision to m
eet Jack Crosby.

  The meeting took place in Jack’s near-palatial home in one of Portland’s most exclusive neighborhoods. Laurel tried not to be intimidated when a scarily efficient maid let them in and then escorted them to Jack’s private den.

  She was struck almost immediately by the physical resemblances between her husband and Jack Crosby. Almost seventy, Jack was still tall and straight. His hair was white, but she would bet it had once been the same dark blond as Jackson’s. His eyes were the same bright blue, barely faded by age, and his golfer’s tan bespoke a man who enjoyed being outdoors, just as Jackson did.

  She wondered if Jackson noticed any of those similarities as he briefly and rather stiffly shook his biological father’s extended hand. “Sir.”

  “Just call me Jack,” the older man advised with a little shrug. “There’s no need to stand on formalities. And you must be Laurel.”

  Even at his age, Jack Crosby still had an eye for women, Laurel decided as he gave her a smile and a quick once-over that made her suspect he hadn’t missed one detail of her figure. She nodded to confirm her identity.

  “Sorry my wife isn’t home, but she’s out doing the charity-queen thing. Or spending some more of my money. Maybe making a day of it and doing both. Please, make yourselves comfortable.” He waved them to a deep leather sofa, taking a leather armchair across from them. “What would you like to drink? Coffee or tea, or something stronger?”

  When they both declined Jack steepled his fingers in front of him and took his time studying Jackson’s face. “You’ve a look of your mother about you. She was a beautiful woman.”

  “She still is.”

  There was just a hint of warning in Jackson’s voice. He made it clear enough that Crosby had better be very careful when he spoke of Donna.

  Jack sighed. “I’m not in the habit of apologizing for the things I’ve done in my life, Jackson. I never pretended to be a saint. But I do have some regrets. Hurting your mother is one of them. She was very special to me, and I treated her very badly. She deserved better.”