Their Child?

by Christine Rimmer

  After the girls went to bed, Chase was restless and went out to the winery. He had work to do in the office in back of the tasting room and at this time of day he wouldn’t be interrupted. Jillian had been distracted at dinner, and he supposed she was thinking about planning a wedding, staying on and what that entailed. Apparently she hadn’t been able to reach her partner, but she said she’d keep trying. As he’d suspected, his mother had taken to the idea of a wedding at Willow Creek and, even more, to the possibility of having Abby under their roof for another six weeks.

  When Chase unlocked the side door to the storage area in the winery, he saw a light was glowing. Maybe he’d forgotten to switch it off. He took a turn around the vats, then headed for the wine-tasting room and the office beyond. To his surprise, a dim light shone over the computer desk.

  When he stepped into the office, he saw Stan hunched over a file folder.

  “You’re here late,” Chase remarked. “I didn’t see your truck.”

  “It’s around back,” his uncle said gruffly.

  Ever since Chase had arrived, Stan had been curt and remote. If it was because of all the years Chase had been out of contact, he wished his uncle would say so.

  “Are you checking on that order that was sent to the wrong address?” Chase asked.

  “That address was good.”

  “That address doesn’t even exist,” Chase said, studying his uncle carefully. “At least that’s what the shipping agent told me. In fact, I couldn’t find it anywhere in the Rolodex or on the computer. Where do you think you got it?”

  “I’m getting older, boy. My memory’s not what it used to be. Maybe I just plucked it out of my head.”

  Something about the way his uncle responded bothered Chase because he hadn’t seen any indication Stan’s memory was failing.

  “Mistakes with shipping can cost us clients. Orders can’t always be replicated.”

  “I’ve been around this business longer than you have,” Stan snapped.

  “Then you understand why I’m concerned.”

  “You have more important concerns than a shipment of wine.”

  His uncle’s voice held a tense undertone. “You mean Marianne?”

  “Yes, and Abby…and that woman who’s staying here. If Abby’s your daughter, is she going to live here?”

  “I don’t know what will happen. We do have the carriage house if Jillian wants to move here.”

  Stan snorted. “The carriage house hasn’t been used in twenty years. It’s not fit for anyone to move into.”

  “It could be made fit. We could take the old furniture to auction and make a few renovations. It would be perfect for Jillian and Abby.”

  “All this is more work for Eleanor. She’s getting too old to cook and clean for other folk.”

  “I’m sure she wouldn’t have to cook and clean for Jillian. In fact, Jillian would like to be helping out more now at the house but Mother won’t let her.”

  “She wants her out of there.”

  Silence beat between them until Chase asked, “Mother told you that?”

  “Not in so many words. But I can tell. Two grown women in a house is bound to bring trouble.”

  In the echo of the stone building, Chase heard a soft voice calling his name.

  Stepping into the doorway of the office, he saw Jillian coming through the glass doors from the main room of the winery into the tasting room.

  “In here,” he called. He’d only unlocked the one outside door. Suddenly he wondered why Stan had come in and locked the door behind him. Extra security precautions?

  Shoving the folder he’d been perusing into one of the file drawers, Stan exited the office before Jillian came in. After a nod at Jillian, he left the winery without saying good-night to Chase.

  As Jillian entered the office, she took Chase’s breath away. The cream cashmere sweater she wore was tucked into forest green corduroy slacks. She’d caught her hair back in a ponytail and her heart-shaped face was cameo perfect. She wore no lipstick but her lips were a pretty pink.

  “You didn’t come over here like that, did you? It’s cold out.”

  “I’m not used to running around in a coat anymore. I notice you’re not wearing one.”

  “Okay, I guess that was a bit chauvinistic,” he said with a smile.

  “A bit,” she agreed.

  He laughed. It felt good to laugh. He was still worried about Marianne, but it felt good not to be constantly stressed about her condition, too. She seemed to be recovering beautifully.

  “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

  “No, you didn’t. I’m sorry he’s not as friendly as he could be. He took over the winery for a few months, and I’m not sure he’s glad my mother called me to come back.”

  “Maybe it hurt his pride.”

  “Maybe. But the vineyard was losing money and Stan couldn’t turn that around.”

  “And you could?”

  “I made some changes in promotion and added a new retail outlet. The rest will depend on the harvest this year and how successful I am with my wine-making.”

  There were questions in Jillian’s eyes and he wished she’d ask them, but she didn’t. She also didn’t come any closer to him. He’d noticed that earlier when they were reading to the girls. Whenever she could, Jillian was keeping a good five feet between them. He supposed that was wise.

  “Kara returned my call,” she said. “She’d forgotten her phone in the car during a reception she’d planned. Anyway, she said she could hold down the fort in Florida except for one event. I’ll have to return to Daytona after Easter. I’ve been helping Senator Grayson plan his daughter’s twenty-first birthday party for the past year. I personally handled all the details.”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem. You can just leave Abby here. She’s comfortable with us now.”

  “Or…I can take her along and her baby-sitter can take care of her.”

  “Does that make any sense, Jillian?”

  “I need to think about it, Chase. I’m sure Abby misses home, too.”

  “Home isn’t a place,” he said pensively.

  “I know that, but that’s the point. Abby’s home is with me, wherever I go, at least for now.”

  He didn’t want to argue with her or speculate about that again. “Marianne has a checkup with Dr. Beckwith next week. Do you want to come along?”

  “Of course I do.”

  He gave her a steady look. “Don’t forget, I have that same concern about Abby.”

  “How could I possibly forget?” Jillian asked, and although she was still five feet away, he could feel the inexorable pull toward her.

  Calling upon memories of his marriage, of Fran’s smiling face, he turned to his desk. “I’ll be here a few hours. I have book work to do. But I’ll stop in and kiss the girls good-night.”

  Jillian took his words as her cue to leave.

  As he watched her retreating back, the sway of her ponytail, he told himself once more his love for Fran would last forever. He couldn’t just forget her and move on.

  He didn’t know if he could ever move on.

  Jillian was helping Marianne paste popcorn puffs on a picture of a lamb she’d drawn the next afternoon when Eleanor came rushing into the living room. “Chase is on the phone with Dr. Liebermann. He said if you want to hear what he has to say—”

  When Jillian rose to her feet, she didn’t know whether to run to the phone, or hold back the truth for as long as she could. It was like Chase to think of setting up a conference call. He wanted her to hear the verdict directly from the physician so she’d have no doubts.

  Did he already know the verdict?

  “Marianne needs help with the glue bottle,” she explained to Eleanor, reluctant to take the call.

  “I’ll take care of the girls,” Eleanor assured her.

  After Jillian took the cordless phone from Eleanor’s hand, she went to the kitchen for privacy, her heart pounding as she said to Chase, “I’m here.
”

  “Jillian, this is Dr. Liebermann. My receptionist is faxing the report from the lab to Chase as we speak.”

  Chase was silent but she knew he was there…waiting.

  Somehow she found the words that could change their lives. “Go ahead.”

  “With both your sample and Chase’s, I can tell you with ninety-nine point nine percent certainty, Chase is Abby’s father and you are Marianne’s mother.”

  She knew the report’s determination wasn’t as much a blow to Chase as it was to her. This is what he’d believed all along. It confirmed with certainty that his wife hadn’t had an affair. To Jillian, however, the world had just toppled over and she sank into a kitchen chair.

  “Jillian, are you all right?” Chase’s deep voice was worried.

  “No, I’m not all right. Nothing’s all right.”

  “I’ll be up to the house.”

  “No. Give me some time. I just need to absorb this. I just need to figure out what to do next.”

  Clicking off the phone, she set it on the table and stared at it. Modern technology. Science in the new millennium. Progress was supposed to make everything better.

  She heard Abby’s laughter come floating out from the living room and tears came to her eyes. She blinked hard and fast but nothing could stop them from rolling down her cheeks. Abby, darling Abby. Her little girl. She’d always be her little girl.

  The kitchen door suddenly flew open and Chase was standing there. “I know,” he said simply.

  A sob caught in Jillian’s throat as pain threatened to tear her heart apart. Yes, he did know. He absolutely did know. She wasn’t sure if she moved or he did, but moments later, he had pulled her up into his arms and was holding her tight. As she cried, his hand passed up and down her back in a soothing motion and comfort.

  “I know,” he said again, not attempting to tell her that everything was going to be all right. Because it wasn’t. She’d just lost a child. She was no longer Abby’s mother. Just like that. Because of words on a report. Because of a doctor’s determination in a blink of an eye.

  “You can’t try to figure this out now, Jillian. Go easy with yourself.”

  She wasn’t hearing the words that she wanted to hear…words like “Abby’s still your daughter. I would never take her away from you.” Then she realized Chase couldn’t say the words because she couldn’t say them to him about Marianne.

  What were they going to do?

  The first thing she was going to do was pull herself together. She couldn’t depend on anyone to pull her through this because she had to protect herself and the girls. She didn’t know Chase’s mind, let alone his heart. They could be adversaries rather than two adults looking in the same direction.

  Backing out of his embrace, she stepped away and swept the tears from her cheeks. She couldn’t be weak, and she couldn’t let him see her vulnerable. Eric had played on all her vulnerabilities including what she thought were her strengths—honesty, loyalty, the ability to commit. He had turned them around on her until their marriage was a sham…until all she’d felt at the end was duty and pity.

  “I need time to think about this,” she said again. “We can’t just start making decisions until we’re sure they’re the right ones.”

  “Maybe so, but there’s one decision you might have to make sooner rather than later. You need to move to Pennsylvania, Jillian. There’s just no way to get around that.”

  “If your mother is thinking about selling Willow Creek, you could move to Florida.”

  “She hasn’t decided whether or not she’s selling. A move isn’t an option right now.”

  “Then we’re at a stalemate,” she decided.

  Looking concerned as much as guarded now, he said, “I’m going to tell Mother what the lab said. Will you be all right?”

  “I’m not going to fall apart again. I’m going to help the girls finish their pictures, then we’re going to get supper.”

  He was looking at her as if he felt sorry for her and she hated that.

  Without trying to convince him that her emotions were under control, she went to the living room to be with Abby and Marianne. She needed to hold on to Abby and she needed to get to know her daughter, as well as the child she’d raised.

  Chapter Seven

  Chase hunkered down to prune another vine. The early March day had almost reached the sixties. The sun was bright…the sky was blue. He and Stan had spent most of the morning replacing posts.

  Something made Chase look up now, and he noticed Jillian walking toward him through the rows of trellises, Buff wandering beside her in a not-so-direct line. He remembered the expression on Jillian’s face when she’d put Marianne to bed last night.

  Marianne had nestled in her lap, patted her cheek and asked, “Read me a story, Jilly?”

  Jillian’s eyes had been full of emotion—joy at getting to know her new daughter, anguish at learning that Abby wasn’t hers. The past few days had been tough for her.

  Today she was wearing jeans and the green flannel jacket she’d brought from Florida. The breeze blew her hair away from her face, and even though the ground was uneven, even though she had to watch her step now and then, she walked with a grace that always caught Chase’s attention.

  Setting the pruning scissors on the ground and wiping his hands on his jeans, he stood. She obviously wasn’t in a hurry or this didn’t seem to be an emergency.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  Stopping before him, she summoned a smile. “Sherry called. I tried to reach you on your cell phone but it must be turned off.”

  “I left it in the winery office to charge. What did Sherry want? Did she change her mind about the wedding?”

  With an excited yip, Buff ran to Jillian’s side and stood with his paws on her jeans. Smiling, she petted him. “No. But it seems that her friend who recommended the vineyard might have had an ulterior motive.”

  “What motive?”

  After patting Buff again, Jillian straightened. “Margaret Gorman’s a reporter with the Clarion, and she’d like to do a comprehensive story on the vineyard and the wedding. I didn’t know how you’d feel about that.”

  The more Chase had thought about the wedding in recent days, the more he’d wondered how much of a production it was going to be. Willow Creek would indeed be invaded with caterers, guests and florists.

  “Maybe Sherry and Tom should just elope,” he suggested wryly.

  “Is that what you did?” Jillian asked with perception that sometimes unsettled him.

  “Fran and I eloped to Vegas.” His memories of his marriage to Fran were becoming dimmer, especially when he was around Jillian. He didn’t like that at all. Now he conjured them up as vividly as he could. “Neither of us wanted any fuss so we flew to Nevada. Afterward, though, I was concerned Fran would regret it.”

  “Why?”

  “It was…mechanical. Weddings are a business anywhere, I guess, but particularly there it was like an assembly line. Fran didn’t complain, but then she never complained about anything. What about you? What kind of wedding did you have?”

  Although he wasn’t sure why, he wanted to encourage Jillian to talk about her marriage. It was important to him for her to confide in him about everything that had happened.

  He thought she might not answer his question. But after a moment she responded, “We got married in front of the justice of the peace with a few friends there, and then went out to dinner afterward.” Shifting the conversation back to him, she asked, “You still miss your wife, don’t you?”

  The missing had become less intense, especially over this past year. But that was because so much else had happened—his dad’s death, moving Marianne to Willow Creek and Marianne’s illness. However, his love for Fran and his memories of her still ran like a river beneath it all.

  “Yes, I do miss her. How about you? Do you miss your husband?”

  “I remember him,” Jillian answered simply and left it at that.

  Ch
ase could only imagine how much heartache some of those memories caused if Mrs. Carmichael had been accurate concerning what happened. “Where did you go on your honeymoon?” he pushed, hoping she’d reveal something.

  Jillian looked surprised he’d asked. “Eric could only take a few days away from his job, so we flew to New York City.”

  He’d seen one picture on an end table in Jillian’s living room of a man her age. He wondered if she’d kept it so she could tell Abby about him. “Does Abby ever ask about him?”

  Averting her gaze, Jillian let her eyes wander to the top of the maples, the acres of vines on trellises, the rolling hills. “No. I think she’s still too little to realize what a family is supposed to be—a mom, a dad and children. In her playgroup she sees dads sometimes, but she hasn’t asked any questions.”

  “Do you tell her about Eric?”

  When Jillian gnawed her lower lip, he knew he was making her uncomfortable. But he wanted to shake information out of her, shake feelings out of her, shake confidences out of her. “I don’t mention Eric. Abby was only fourteen months old when he died and if she has memories of him, they’re probably subconscious ones.”

  “I’ve shown Marianne pictures of Fran.” He knew Jillian had probably seen the picture of him and Fran in Marianne’s room. “I’ve told her Fran was her mommy. Now explanations are going to get a lot more complicated.”

  Still gazing into the distance rather than at him, Jillian said, “My first thought after we got the report was we should both pretend none of this happened. We should both just go back to our lives. It would be so much easier.”

  “Would it, Jillian?”

  Her gaze swung back to his. “I guess some people can live in denial and ignore the truth. Whenever I look at Marianne, I know I can’t do that. Yet when I look at Abby, I wish I could.”

  His heart hurt for her…hurt for both of them. “If you moved here, you wouldn’t have to stay in the house as you are now. The carriage house over by the barn could be turned into living quarters again without too much trouble.”

  “I’d live there with Abby?” There was some dismay in her voice.