Their Child?
Page 22
Standing aside, he let Jillian precede him into the room. She was only minimally aware of the white furniture, the pink-flowered spread and canopy, stuffed animals that probably stood taller than the three-year-old did.
Then she saw the oxygen tank in a corner and stilled.
After a moment, she noticed the dog—a fluffy Pomeranian who nestled on the spread next to Marianne’s side.
The dog looked up at Jillian with liquid brown eyes. He hadn’t been asleep, but rather guarding his mistress.
Everything inside of Jillian went still as she gazed down at the sleeping child. She had brown hair that was lighter than Abby’s. In the glow of the small night lamp she seemed fragile.
Jillian couldn’t help but step even closer to the bed and fall onto her knees. Then she saw a baby intercom and a type of monitor on the nightstand.
“The heart monitor is a precaution. If her heart rate changes, an alarm will go off.” Chase’s voice was a velvet whisper in the darkness.
When Jillian could only stare at Marianne, soaking in everything about her, Chase went on, “I come in two or three times a night to check on her. Even when she wasn’t having symptoms, I did that. We have the oxygen tank in case there’s an emergency. Hopefully there won’t be with surgery scheduled for Monday.”
With sudden realization, Jillian saw how hard this had been for him. He didn’t show it, and she suspected he didn’t talk much about it, either. Not his feelings, anyway. The strong silent type?
She didn’t know, and it didn’t matter. All that mattered were these two little girls.
The dog was eyeing her warily, and before she reached out to touch Marianne, Chase said, “It’s okay, Buff. She won’t hurt her.”
The little ball of fur seemed to relax at that, and he put his head down on his paws.
“Marianne loves animals,” Chase murmured. “She’s had Buffington since she was eighteen months old. He’s been her companion when I can’t be around.”
The dog looked older than a pup. “Where did you get him?” she murmured in a low voice.
“A friend. She was moving and couldn’t take Buff with her.”
Jillian reached toward Marianne and brushed a strand of her chin-length brown hair away from her face. This little girl was precious, too.
Then Jillian stood, overwhelmed with feelings that were all jumbled…sensations that were strange…confusion that didn’t seem to have an end. All of their lives were going to change.
Unless Marianne wasn’t her daughter.
Once more in the hall, she pictured Abby’s face in her mind’s eye. She’d always thought Abby was a combination of her and Eric. But now—Could that nose have come from Chase’s wife? Could her stubborn streak have come from Chase? Were those brown eyes Chase’s, not Eric’s? Did her genes really belong to a different set of parents?
When she’d gazed at Marianne, Jillian could almost see herself and Eric in her, too, if she looked hard enough…if she imagined.
Jillian was so deep into her emotions, she didn’t even realize she was crying until Chase stopped her by putting a hand on her shoulder. “You have to believe it’s all going to work out.”
“How can it? Unless they weren’t switched. Unless…”
“Unless my wife had an affair?” Chase’s brow furrowed. “Don’t set your hopes on that, Jillian. There’s no evidence of it. None whatsoever.”
Jillian remembered the transcript she’d read of the P.I.’s conversation with the nurse. “Nurse Holt’s memory isn’t one hundred percent clear. She isn’t sure she put the wrong bracelets on the babies.”
“She might not be sure, but she admitted it was a good possibility. And maybe she’s still trying to protect herself.”
Jillian shook her head. “I can’t give up Abby. I won’t give up Abby. She’s my daughter.”
Moving away from Chase, Jillian felt more alone than she’d ever felt in her life.
Then Chase’s arm was around her and he was making her face him. “The girls deserve to know the truth, and we do, too. If you don’t face it, it only comes back to bite you.”
Suddenly Jillian realized he’d had experience with this—experience with lies…experience with not knowing the truth. She felt as if she’d been through a war. She wanted to get back to Abby. She needed to get some sleep so she could think more clearly. She needed to get perspective for the morning.
However, Chase’s words reverberated in her head. Sometimes she thought it would have been better if she’d never known about Eric’s affair…if she’d lived in ignorance. Then maybe her heart wouldn’t have been broken. Then maybe it wouldn’t be so hard for her to trust.
“You look exhausted,” Chase noted, gazing down at her as if he really cared how tired she was.
“I just need to crawl in with Abby and get a good night’s sleep.”
It was totally illogical and didn’t belong anywhere in her thoughts right now, but she wondered if Chase had been involved with a woman since his wife had died. He was ruggedly handsome…sexy…confident.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“Nothing important.” Her cheeks reddened.
“You don’t lie well.”
“I’m not lying,” she returned indignantly, “but you don’t have any right to the thoughts in my head.”
They stared at each other for a few seconds, the silence as loud as the beating of her heart.
“True,” Chase agreed curtly. “I don’t have a right to them.”
They began walking toward Abby’s room again. As they passed the stairway, he commented, “You didn’t have supper. Do you want something from the kitchen?”
“No. I’ll eat a big breakfast in the morning.”
“You have to take care of yourself, Jillian. I don’t want another patient on my hands.”
“I take care of myself, Mr. Remmington. You don’t have to worry about me. I take care of Abby, too. We’re only here…” She didn’t know how to put it. “We’re only here to find out the truth. I want to have the DNA testing done as soon as possible.”
“I’ll call our family doctor tomorrow.”
At the door to Abby’s room, she saw Chase glance inside. Circumstances tied them to each other’s children, at least for a little while, at least until the DNA results came in. Then their lives would either become simpler or a lot more complicated. It was better now if she kept her distance from Chase Remmington as much as possible. She couldn’t let her emotions get the best of her. She couldn’t let the electricity she felt between her and Chase develop into live current.
“She’s sleeping.” Chase’s expression was unreadable.
“She’s a sound sleeper. She probably won’t wake up until morning. But if she does, I’ll be there for her. That’s what matters.”
After studying her thoroughly, Chase suggested, “Sleep as late as you want.”
“Abby’s usually up early. I will be, too.”
“You don’t depend on anyone, do you?”
“No. It’s better that way.”
Although his brows arched, he didn’t ask her why. Finally, he turned and headed for the steps. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
After he went down the stairs, Jillian entered her bedroom, closed the door and took a nightgown from her suitcase. She quickly undressed, slipped into the gown and then crawled into bed next to her daughter.
Curving her arm around Abby, she tilted her forehead against her daughter’s soft, silky hair and prayed for sleep.
Jillian was tying pink ribbons on Abby’s pigtails the following morning when there was a knock on her bedroom door.
“Come in,” she said automatically, engrossed in forming the tiny bow.
When the door opened, Chase stepped into the room, and her breath caught reflexively. He looked so sexy. Instead of a suit, he was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up his forearms. Although she’d sensed his strength and fitness yesterday, it hadn’t been as obvious. His arms were
muscled. His thighs encased in the jeans looked powerful. His slim hips and broad shoulders and the shock of dark brown hair over his forehead did funny things to her insides. This Chase Remmington seemed less civilized…more primitive.
“All done?” Abby asked. Jillian knew she hated standing still for even a moment.
With the last tightening of the ribbon, she agreed, “All done.”
Chase smiled at the little girl. “How would you like to meet somebody?”
“Who?” Abby asked.
“My little girl. She’s your age, and I told her we had visitors.”
“Can we?” Abby asked her mother.
“Sure, we can. But Marianne’s been sick and she needs to stay quiet, so you can’t run around and jump up and down.”
“Does she have a cold?” Abby asked, familiar with that because she’d had one a few months before.
“No, this is different than a cold,” Chase said. Then honestly, he went on, “It’s a problem with her heart.”
Crossing to Abby, he crouched down before her. While he held her little hand in his, he placed it on her chest. “Right there. But the doctors are going to fix it soon, and she’ll be all better.”
“Like me?” Abby asked.
“Just like you,” Chase said, with some sadness in his voice. Then he straightened and held his hand out to Abby. “Come on. I’ll show you where she is.”
To Jillian’s astonishment, Abby put her hand in Chase’s and went along with him. Apparently, he was no longer a stranger. Apparently, she trusted him enough to follow him.
When they reached Marianne’s room, she was lying atop the flowered spread with a white afghan thrown over her. Her Little Mermaid pajamas peeked out from beneath the cover. Propped on three pillows, she smiled at them when they came in.
Chase went over to her, his hand still enclosing Abby’s. “Marianne, this is the little friend I told you about. Abby, this is Marianne.”
Without even asking, Abby crawled up on top of the bed and sat across from Marianne.
Jillian moved at once. “Maybe you shouldn’t do that—”
“It’s fine,” Chase said. “She gets tired easily and she’s in bed most of the time. But she can have company.”
Abby glanced shyly at her new friend and picked up one of the stuffed toys on her bed. “Elmo,” she said with glee.
Marianne grinned back at her. Obviously, the two girls had found a bond of connection.
Chase said to his daughter, “And this is Jillian, Abby’s mother.”
Tilting her head, Marianne studied Jillian curiously.
“Hi, honey. We’re going to be staying here with your dad and grandmother for a little while.”
“When I go to the hospital?” she asked, in such a grown-up fashion that Jillian almost forgot she was three.
“Yes, while you go to the hospital.”
“She’s been there a few times for tests and doctor’s visits.”
Abby was examining a tape recorder sitting beside Marianne’s bed. Suddenly as she pushed a button, children’s music started playing from it.
Just then, Eleanor came bustling in with a breakfast tray for Marianne, Buffington at her heels. “Oh!” she said in surprise when she came face-to-face with Jillian. To Chase she asked, “Isn’t this a lot of commotion for Marianne so early in the morning?”
“She gets tired of being in this room. She gets tired of seeing only us. I think Abby and Jillian will be good for her.”
“It’s time for breakfast now, though,” Eleanor said as she set the tray on an occasional table near the window.
The room was filled with good smells of scrambled eggs and bacon and toast, and Abby looked at her mom. “I’m hungwy, too, Mommy. Can I eat, too?”
“Oh, I don’t think so, Bitsy-bug. We’ll probably have to go downstairs.”
“There’s no reason why she can’t eat here, too,” Chase decided. “There’s plenty there for both of them. We just need another glass of milk and juice.” He smiled at Abby. “But you have to be careful Buff doesn’t snitch your bacon. He likes it too much.”
Abby smiled and looked down at the little dog.
Guessing he had another playmate, Buff jumped up on the bed, wiggled his tail, made a circle and plopped down next to Abby.
Eleanor didn’t look happy about any of it, and Jillian strove to smooth the waters. “Why don’t I go downstairs and get the milk and juice?”
“I’ll get it,” Eleanor said quickly. “There’s more bacon down there, too. I’ll bring some of that up.”
Chase was already taking the plate over to the girls and directing Buff to get down off the bed until they’d finished their breakfast.
Marianne looked up at him. “Not hungry, Daddy.”
“I know you’re not. But I want you to eat just a little bit.”
As Jillian stood by the window, Abby ate a piece of bacon with her fingers. Chase coaxed Marianne to drink some milk and then have few bites of egg. With a smile, he made a game of splitting a piece of toast and then handing a half to each girl. As always, Abby ate hers quickly, but Marianne just took tiny nibbles.
Eleanor had disappeared after she’d brought the girls extra bacon and beverages. Now she returned to take the tray.
Jillian noticed that Marianne looked tired and said to Abby, “We’d better go downstairs. Maybe we can explore a little bit.”
But Marianne asked, “Can Abby stay and play wif me?”
Unlike Abby, Marianne could pronounce r but had trouble with th.
Chase looked torn, not knowing what was best for her.
To her surprise, Eleanor said, “I’ll stay up here and sit with them for a while if they want to play on the bed. I’ll make sure Marianne doesn’t get too excited.”
“Is that okay with you, Abby?” Chase asked. “I want to take your mom downstairs and get her some breakfast.”
After a quick glance at Eleanor, and then a longer look at Marianne, Abby nodded exuberantly. “We can play with Elmo.”
Her words came out so fast, Chase chuckled. “Sounds good to me.” He touched Jillian’s arm. “Come on. Let’s go down to the kitchen. We can come up and check on them in a little while.”
Once downstairs, Jillian asked him, “Marianne doesn’t have much appetite?”
“Very little. I try to find anything that will tempt her. So does my mother.”
Observing that Chase’s voice always seemed a bit formal when he talked about his mother, Jillian considered maybe he was brought up that way. “When is surgery on Monday?”
“I’m taking her in around 6:00 a.m.”
Once in the kitchen Jillian commented, “I get the feeling your mother doesn’t want me to touch anything in here.”
“She’s worried about Marianne, and she’s not used to having company in the house. I think her arthritis bothers her more than she lets on and it makes her grumpy sometimes.”
“I think it’s more than that. She might want Abby here, but she doesn’t want me here.”
“She doesn’t like change. And she definitely doesn’t like confusion. All our lives are about both of those right now. But I don’t think you’ll have any trouble standing your ground with her,” he added with a wry smile, coming a step closer.
The top two buttons of Chase’s shirt were open and Jillian could see brown chest hair peeking out. Everything about him this morning seemed so overwhelmingly masculine. Because of it, she felt even more off balance and defensive.
“What makes you say that?” she asked, wondering what he saw when he looked at her…what he saw in what she said and did.
“You’re not the type of woman to let anyone step on your toes, push you around or make you do something you don’t want to do.”
“Are you comparing me to someone?”
After appearing startled for a moment, Chase finally responded, “Maybe I am. Fran took a back seat. Above all else, she believed it was best not to make waves.”
“With your mother?”
“But it’s your home.”
“No, it wasn’t. I’d made a home in Washington.”
“But—”
He cut her off. “I have work to do. But I wanted to make sure you had breakfast before I left. Do you want scrambled eggs and the whole works, or—”
This time she cut him off. “Toast and coffee is fine.”
Going to the refrigerator, he took out a carton of orange juice and glanced over his shoulder. “I thought you’d promised to have a big breakfast this morning since you didn’t eat much yesterday.”
“I don’t want to take the time now. I want to get back upstairs and make sure Abby isn’t tiring out Marianne.”
Chase nodded as he set the orange juice on the table. “At nine o’clock, I’ll call the doctor and see when we can get the DNA test done. Feel free to explore the grounds with Abby. It’ll give her something to do, and Buff loves to run in the vineyard. Don’t go too near the creek behind the house, though. It’s running full.”
He pointed to the coffee in the pot on the counter and the loaf of homemade bread sitting next to it. “Help yourself to anything you want.”
Then, taking a leather bomber jacket from a hook, he opened the back door. “Try to make yourself at home, Jillian. I want you and Abby to feel comfortable here.”
Before she could blink, he was out the door, and Jillian wondered if he truly wanted her to feel at home, or if he was more interested in Abby feeling at home.
That thought scared her.
Chase waved to Ralph Marlowe as he headed out to the vineyard. Ralph had been working at Willow Creek for thirty years and was in his sixties now. In addition to caring for the horses and gardening, he helped when Chase and his uncle needed him.
As Chase walked between rows of Niagra grapevines, his cell phone rang. After he answered, a familiar male voice asked, “Did you find her?”
Scott Paxton’s voice always took Chase back to the football field in high school when he and Scott had been not only teammates but best friends. When Chase had moved back here last year, they’d reconnected as if the intervening twenty years hadn’t aged them. Scott had married his high-school sweetheart, Allie, and they’d had two children. One of their kids was in college and the other in high school. After Chase had found out Marianne wasn’t his daughter, he’d confided in his friend.