My Child, Our Child (Silhouette Special Edition)

by Hagan, Patricia

  Jackie couldn’t resist suggesting, “Maybe they just don’t like people knowing their business.”

  Willa thought about that, nodding as though it had never occurred to her, then said, “Well, it’s a shame, that’s what it is. Not that I’ve got anything against you, mind you, but Sam, poor soul, didn’t need this. He’s got enough troubles with that boy of his turning into a mute.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Jackie murmured.

  “Say, do you want some coffee?” Willa suddenly remembered to ask.

  Jackie said she would love a cup. Willa seemed in a talkative mood, and she was eager to hear anything she might have to say about Sam.

  Willa left her and returned a few moments later with two steaming mugs of coffee and a plate of hot muffins on a tray.

  “Now then,” Willa said, sinking into the faded, worn armchair next to the potbelly stove, “Come over here and sit down and tell me what’s on your mind. I know you didn’t come here for my cooking.”

  “Actually, I came to ask you how to give away some Christmas trees.”

  Willa’s brows rose. “Won’t that be a conflict with Sam?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Oh, he’s got a little thing he does. I was surprised he went through with it last year after all the trouble with Donna, but I guess what you want to do won’t make any difference.”

  Jackie was eager to know, “Who’s Donna?”

  “Sam’s wife. Now about those trees, how many are there?”

  “Probably a few dozen. I’m not sure. It was a test line of trees, so not many were replanted after the first harvest.” She would much rather talk about Sam’s wife but was afraid to ask questions. “Sam cut the ones that were planted across the old road to my cabin. Granted they’re small, but I thought maybe there were some poor families who might like to have them, and you might know of a way we could do it.”

  “Well, if anybody can, I reckon I’m the one. I’ll talk to Preacher Lindon over at Little Creek Baptist—that’s my church. Does Sam know about this?”

  “He has no reason to. They were on my land. That makes them mine.” Jackie helped herself to a muffin.

  Willa said, “I’ll ask my Sunday school class if they want to take it on as a project.”

  She leaned over and patted Jackie’s knee. “You’re a sweet girl to want to do this. Now I’m glad Libby Pratt did leave you her land.

  “So tell me,” she settled back in the chair with her coffee, eyes shining with anticipation. “Tell me everything you know about Libby. I knew her from the time we were children...knew how she loved Roy.” She shook her head in sad remembrance. “A real tragedy, him getting killed like he did, and for him to leave the land to her, well, it just shows how much he loved her.”

  “That he did,” Jackie agreed, thinking how if she told Willa what she wanted to know, it might lead her to confiding what happened to Sam’s marriage. “And Libby never stopped loving him, either.” She then confided what she knew about Libby, her teaching career, her dreams of traveling, the accident and, finally, her untimely death.

  “And I never knew about the land till her lawyer contacted me,” Jackie was quick to emphasize. “I was shocked she’d do such a thing.”

  “Well, she had no family,” Willa said. “She never came back after her folks died. She must have thought a lot of you. And so do I,” she hastened to add. “Welcome to the mountains, dear. I hope you’ll like it here.”

  Jackie could stand the suspense no longer. She steered the conversation back to Sam. “Well, I don’t think Sam believes that I will. He’s got me thinking I won’t make it through the first winter.”

  “Hogwash,” Willa said. “Don’t you pay any attention to anything that boy says. He’s been through hell and back, and it’s just been in the past few months that I’ve seen him pulling out of it He’s getting out a little, played some golf last month, I hear. And he goes fishing with my cousin, Bart, sometimes.”

  Willa drained the last of her coffee, saw that Jackie’s cup was also empty, and got up for refills.

  “It’s just a shame about that boy,” she said as she walked toward the counter and the coffeepot. “Sam’s so crazy about him, but the fact is, he’s retarded.”

  “Retarded?” Jackie echoed. “I don’t think so. He seems bright to me. He’s just shy, that’s all.”

  “No. He’s a mute. Can’t speak a word. Not since his mother ran off with another man. Folks think the shock was too much for him, and he just lost his mind.”

  Jackie’s head was reeling. Sam’s wife had run away with another man? No wonder he seemed mad at the world. But to think it had caused his little boy to be mentally retarded was beyond comprehension.

  “No,” she said so forcefully that Willa stopped pouring coffee to stare at her.

  “I don’t believe that for one minute. He may be going through some sort of trauma because he misses his mother, but he’ll get over it eventually. How long since his mother left?”

  “A little over a year now, I think.”

  “Sam must have been really devastated,” Jackie said, reminded of her own pain to discover Kevin had been unfaithful. Regardless of the fact that she now saw the marriage had been over for a long time, and love—if it ever truly existed—had gone, it was still humiliating, and it hurt.

  Willa handed her a fresh mug of coffee, which she accepted eagerly.

  “If the truth be known, I don’t think Sam was all that surprised,” Willa said. “There was talk they’d been having trouble for a long time. Donna never made a secret of the fact she hated it here. She was raised in Atlanta and used to big-city life.”

  “But there’s peace and beauty and serenity,” Jackie said, appalled that anyone could want more. “Besides, it’s not that far to Asheville or even Charlotte. And Atlanta is right down the road.”

  “It wasn’t enough for Donna, I don’t guess.”

  “So why did Sam marry her in the first place?” Jackie asked, wondering why he hadn’t realized how she was before proposing.

  “Oh, it was a whirlwind thing. Sam was at a convention of tree growers in Atlanta. Donna was there at some kind of charity function. She was a member of Atlanta’s high society, honey. And I know all this,” she added with a proud smile, “because Joan told me.”

  “Who’s Joan?” Jackie wanted to keep all the characters straight in the unfolding melodrama.

  “She’s Sam’s mother. She lives in Charlotte now but has friends in Atlanta, and they told her all about Donna, how her picture was forever in the paper before she married Sam.”

  The plot was thickening, and Willa had Jackie’s full attention. “So why did Sam’s mother leave and go to Charlotte? Wasn’t she from here, either? Did she hate it, too?”

  “Joan?” Willa laughed. “Heavens, no. Joan loved it here. And she loved Sam’s father to a fault. But when he died, she couldn’t stand the memories and decided she needed to start a new life somewhere else, so she moved. She comes back now and then, though, and Sam goes and visits her when he can. He’s crazy about her.”

  Jackie was glad to hear that. Kevin had treated his mother like dirt, and she’d always heard you could tell how a man would be with his wife by how he was with his mother. Not that she was thinking about Sam in those lines. It was just good to know her business partner had nice traits—at least that’s the way she was determined to see it.

  “Anyway,” Willa went on, “everybody was shocked when Donna ran off with that man.”

  “And she hasn’t been back to see Brian?”

  “Not one time.”

  Jackie felt like crying. “Her own son. That’s terrible. Does Sam know where she is?”

  “I don’t know. Linda—that’s Sam’s lawyer’s secretary—said when he filed for divorce on the grounds of one year’s separation, the only address he had was for her parents in Atlanta. Donna signed them and sent them back, but Linda said the postmark was California.”

  “I don’t see how she could des
ert that little boy. Just walk away and never see him again. It’s awful.”

  Willa agreed, “Yes, and it’s worse because it’s turned him into a mental case. There’s nothing to do but send him away.”

  Jackie stared at her, aghast. “How can you say such a thing?”

  “Well, it’s not only me,” Willa said defensively. “Everybody agrees. Especially Joan, and she’s his grandmother so she should know.”

  Jackie asked, “How come she hasn’t moved back here to take care of him?”

  “She’s got her own life now. She’s remarried, to a very nice man. I met him when she came for Easter. They travel a lot, and he’s got plenty of money. She told Sam she’s willing to pay for Brian to go to the very best institution money can buy. You see,” Willa rushed to explain, “Joan thinks maybe Brian was a little mentally unbalanced all along and nobody noticed, and when Donna left, it just triggered it—turned him into a mute...made it obvious he’s retarded.”

  Such an ignorant assumption annoyed Jackie greatly. But she knew it was a waste of time to try to convince Willa otherwise, so she abruptly changed the subject. “So when could you have someone pick up the trees?”

  Willa thought a minute, then said, “Well, Christmas doesn’t come long after Thanksgiving, you know, so we need to get busy. I’ll make some phone calls tonight and see if I can’t get the ball rolling to do it this weekend.”

  Jackie downed the rest of her coffee and left.

  Was it already Thanksgiving? she wondered as she drove home. She had forgotten all about the holiday, because she had been so busy, and now remembering filled her with loneliness.

  Impulsively she turned the car around and drove back to the grocery store. She bought a small turkey and fixings for all the trimmings, plus the makings for a pumpkin pie. Even if she were alone, she could have a nice Thanksgiving dinner, by golly, and, if she happened to see Sam, she would invite him and Brian to join her...though she doubted he would accept.

  Still, she felt the need to be neighborly...and told herself that’s all she was doing.

  It was late afternoon when she set the pumpkin pie on the windowsill to cool. It was done to a turn, all golden brown on top with only a slight crack in the filling, and the crust had turned out perfectly—flaky and buttery.

  As she leaned out the window, a movement in the shrubs caught her eye. She smiled as she cheerily called out, “Little bandit, is that you out there? If it is, you’d better not touch this pie till it cools, so come on in here and wait till it does, and I’ll cut you a big slice and put whipped cream on top.”

  When there was no response, she went to the front porch and sat down in a rocker.

  She didn’t have long to wait. Brian poked his head around the corner of the cabin and stared at her uncertainly.

  “It’s all right,” she said. “I know your daddy doesn’t want you out in the woods by yourself, but I’ll take you home and let you off far enough from the house so he won’t see you, all right?”

  Cautiously he walked toward the porch.

  “But you have to mind your daddy,” she said firmly as he came up the steps. “He worries about you and wants you to be safe, and so do I.”

  Brian sat down next to her, but she saw how he nervously gripped the rocker’s arms.

  Jackie chattered on, as though it was perfectly normal for her to talk and for him to listen without responding. She would ask him a question, then continue as though he had answered.

  After a while, when the pumpkin pie had cooled enough, Jackie cut them each a big slice. Heaping on generous amounts of whipped topping, she added a few sprinkles of cinnamon along with toasted pecans.

  Brian had followed her into the kitchen, and as soon as she put the pie before him, he ate, as always, like he was starved.

  When he had finished, she glanced at the clock and winced. She had talked longer than she’d realized in her effort to draw him out of himself, and the afternoon had faded away. It would soon be dark.

  She put his empty plate in the sink, then snatched up her car keys and motioned him to follow. “Come on, honey. I’m going to drive you home.”

  He sat right where he was and made no move to get up.

  “Brian, you have to let me take you,” she urged. “I can’t let you go into those woods alone after dark. Your daddy doesn’t even like you being out there in daylight.”

  Still, he didn’t move.

  Exasperated, she said, “Brian, if I let you walk home, your daddy will be so mad at me there’s no telling what he might do. Why, he might even run me out of town on a rail.”

  She was teasing, but Brian bolted to his feet and quickly went outside to stand next to her car.

  She was touched, because he obviously did not like the idea of her having to leave.

  “Good boy,” she murmured, and hurried after him.

  She let him off at the mail box at the end of the driveway to his house and watched him in the twilight as he walked the rest of the way. After seeing a woman step out on the porch to meet him, Jackie turned the car around and started for home.

  Suddenly a deer raced right in front of her car. She slammed on the brakes to keep from hitting him, and the car skidded sideways and into a ditch.

  “Oh, no,” she groaned, pounding on the steering wheel with both hands. It was history repeating itself.

  In more ways than one, she realized with a shudder.

  Sam’s red pickup truck looked bright and big in her rearview mirror. Without bothering to speak to her, he went ahead and maneuvered to hook up the winch and pull her out.

  Afterward, he walked up to her window and said without fanfare, “You’ve got a broken axle. I’ll take you home and then call somebody to come out and tow it in Friday.”

  “Friday?” she cried. “But today is Wednesday.”

  “And tomorrow is Thanksgiving. I don’t know how it was where you came from, Jackie, but around here folks take holidays seriously. Everything will be closed down. Now come on and get in.”

  The truck smelled like pines and firs and spruce trees. It was, she pleasantly realized, like being in a cloud of aftershave lotion. It was just that pungent and clean.

  “I love it,” she said, taking a deep breath.

  Sam sent her a sideways glance. “What? The truck?”

  “The smell of the trees. I love it.”

  “You’ll get used to it,” he said almost gruffly, “and then you’ll gripe about it and say it smells like the stuff you clean toilets with.”

  She was quick to argue, “No, I won’t, because it doesn’t make me think about that.”

  “Then you’ll gripe about how hard it is to get the resin out of your clothes and off your hands.” His chuckle was cold, almost taunting. “Oh, yes, little lady, once you realize this isn’t something out of a Currier & Ives Christmas card you’ll be wanting to get out of here and be glad to accept my offer to buy you out.”

  Even now that she understood the reason he was so brusque, so cold, she was still annoyed by his obvious cynicism toward her. “I’m here to stay, Sam. And the sooner you realize that, the better we’ll get along.”

  He was silent for a few moments as the truck bounced along on the road toward her cabin. Then, remembering, he asked, “What are you doing over on this side, anyway? My boys cleared that back path out for you. They even smoothed it over. They also told me you wouldn’t let them haul the trees off.”

  She pressed back against the seat, as though going into a kind of battle mode. “I told you I don’t want those trees to go to waste. Besides, do I have to remind you they were on my land? They belong to me.”

  “And what, may I ask, are you going to do with them?”

  “I talked to Willa at the Book Nook. She’s going to have her Sunday school make it their project to see that they get to needy families.”

  “Fine,” he said coldly.

  She turned to glare at him. “Do you have a problem with that?” She was surprised to see a mysterious smile sprea
d slowly across his face.

  “No,” he said softly. “I don’t begrudge it at all.”

  And then the smile faded and was replaced by his mouth becoming a thin, hard line as he asked, “Now will you tell me what you were doing over here? It’s closer for you to get to town by your back road.”

  She folded her arms across her chest and stared doggedly ahead. She was not about to tell on Brian.

  But as it turned out, she didn’t have to.

  “You brought Brian home, didn’t you?”

  Her face, along with her quick intake of breath, gave her away. “You won’t punish him, will you? I’m sure he was just out for a walk and happened by my place and smelled the pumpkin pie I’d just made. We got to talking, and—”

  “Talking?” he all but shouted. “What do you mean?”

  “I was talking, and he was listening. The time just slipped away. I didn’t want him out walking after dark, so I brought him home.”

  “I won’t punish him, but I will have another talk with him.... And you, too,” he added sharply.

  He had driven right up to her porch. He did not turn off the engine, instead reaching across the seat to open her door for her.

  She got out but paused to ask, “What about?”

  “Your meddling in my business,” he snapped. “But it will have to wait till after Thanksgiving. I’m taking Brian to visit my mother.”

  He shut the door.

  The window was rolled halfway down, and she called through it, “Fine, I’ll be looking forward to it.”

  He drove away, and she stared after him until the red glow of the taillights disappeared.

  Then she touched her breasts.

  His arm had brushed against them as he had reached to open the door. It had sent a warm rush through her body, and even now she imagined she felt the heat.

  Dangerous reactions.

  Dangerous thoughts.

  And if she didn’t get a rein on them...and on her heart...then she might be headed for big trouble.