The Secret Father

by Kim Lawrence

  ‘Not yet, but they will. And you’re so surprised, aren’t you?’ he sneered. ‘If my information is reliable, the revelations are going to coincide with the release of the film.’

  ‘You think I…?’ she said in a strangled voice. Shock swept through her as she realised fully what he was suggesting.

  ‘Show Hope your outraged innocence. I’m sure she could use it—professionally speaking, that is.’

  ‘Sam, I didn’t…’

  ‘Don’t!’ He was on his feet, every inch of his body vibrating with suppressed fury. He dragged his hand heavily through his hair. ‘Just don’t. Don’t make it worse by denying it. God, how can I have been this wrong?’ Self-disgust twisted his lips into an ugly grimace. ‘Look me in the eye and tell me that it wasn’t you.’ He looked torn—part of him willing her to do so, the other half daring her to.

  No matter how things stood between them she didn’t want him going away thinking she was capable of doing such a petty, spiteful thing. It hurt her that he thought she was capable of it.

  ‘Sam, I’ve never…’ She could at least staunch the flow of acid recriminations. Then suddenly she recalled the explanation her sisters had wrung from her earlier. Dismay clouded her eyes, the heavy thump of her heart echoed her misery.

  ‘At least you can’t lie to me.’ For a moment Sam felt overwhelmed by mindless fatigue. Part of him had hoped…

  Lindy closed her eyes and prayed for inspiration. What was the point in defending herself when he distorted everything she said? ‘You’ve already made up your mind,’ she accused shakily.

  ‘Is that a privilege you reserve for yourself?’ He removed his gaze abruptly from her pale face and stared at his white-knuckled hands, which clearly betrayed the violence of his feelings. He thrust them into his trouser pockets. His eyes raked her face briefly before he deliberately turned his back on her and began to pace the room.

  The justice of his observation hit her painfully. It was true she hadn’t given him an opportunity to defend himself. If I was as wrong as he is now… The thought made her feel physically sick. What have I done? she wondered desperately.

  ‘Sam, you must listen,’ she pleaded urgently. All she could read in his rigid shoulders was rejection. She placed a hand on his back.

  Her hands sliding under his shirt—arms curled around his middle—pressing her breasts against his back… The images slipped into his head in the time it took to blink. The effort to halt this fantasy made the sinews in his neck stand out.

  Sam turned as if she’d struck him. The revulsion in his expression brought her hand to her lips to stifle a cry.

  ‘No, you listen. Didn’t you give any thought to the consequences of your actions?’ Her silence seemed to compound his condemnation. ‘Did you really think I kept silent about my son out of choice? Don’t you think I’d have loved to have boasted to everyone when he learnt to ride his bike, when his team won little league?’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘You didn’t want to,’ he reminded her grimly. He read the guilt in her face and his eyes narrowed. ‘Marilyn was pregnant when we were both eighteen. Eighteen—God,’ he half groaned. ‘We were young, but not stupid enough to think we had enough going for us to sustain a marriage. I helped out financially as much as I could in the early years and her mother looked after the baby while Marilyn finished school. I saw Ben whenever possible.’

  Lindy didn’t think he was aware that he had forgotten for a split second to mask his vulnerability.

  ‘Marilyn married seven years ago. He’s a good man, a better father than I have ever been.’ The raw despair in his voice made Lindy want to hug him. ‘I could see their point of view. I’d breeze in every so often and shower the kid with gifts, but I wasn’t involved in all the nitty-gritty parts of parenting. He was confused; he had two fathers, although he was too young at the time to realise that. I’d made a name for myself by then and Marilyn lived in dread of finding the media camped on her doorstep. She’s not the sort of lady who would enjoy being a human-interest story.’

  ‘You gave him up to protect him?’ What have I done? Horror-struck, she could only stare at him.

  ‘I didn’t want to. I worked myself up into a frenzy of self-righteous anger the first time they suggested it. Then I sat down and faced a few cold, hard facts. I wasn’t thinking about Ben; my motives were purely selfish. I haven’t lost contact with him completely. Marilyn still keeps me up to date with his progress. I get photos and school reports…’

  Lindy swallowed the lump of emotion in her throat. There was a bleakness in his emotionless description that touched her deeply. ‘I’m so sorry, Sam.’

  His head whipped round. ‘Sorry!’ he snarled. ‘It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it?’

  Lindy felt so miserable it hardly mattered to her that he’d assumed her apology was an admission of guilt. She was guilty, just not of what he thought. She was guilty of not trusting him. It would have been easier to find release in anger, but she had little room to criticise after the way she’d behaved.

  ‘Is it in the papers yet?’

  ‘Why? Eager to read what your poisonous seeds have sprouted? I’ve told you, they’re only holding off to get maximum effect when The Legacy is released. A child’s going to suffer just to satisfy your vindictive spite.’

  ‘You can’t believe I’d want that.’

  ‘I think you wanted to hit back at me and you did the first and most vicious thing you could think of. Try telling Ben it’s not personal when he gets crucified at school. Try telling the family you’ve just torn apart that you didn’t mean it.’

  ‘I can’t be the only person who knows,’ she said desperately.

  ‘You’re the only one I don’t trust.’

  Her head went back as if he’d struck her. Sam wanted to respond to the stricken expression in her eyes. Wanting to comfort the woman who had wrought havoc in his life was the latest in a long line of crazy things he’d done since he’d first laid eyes on Rosalind Lacey. She suckered you—when is it finally going to sink in? he asked himself.

  ‘I don’t blame you for feeling that way.’ She faced him with unconscious dignity.

  ‘That’s mighty generous of you.’

  ‘There are some things you should know.’ In his present vengeful mood, telling him about Paul and the baby was probably not the wisest thing to do, but she owed him that much. ‘They might help you understand why I overreacted to the things Magda told me.’ Magda! She recalled the gloating spite in the other woman’s voice as she’d relayed her tale. ‘Have you thought about whether it could have been Magda?’ she began eagerly. It had to be; it fitted.

  ‘Don’t try to worm out of it now, Rosalind. Magda’s known about Ben for over a year. Why would she choose this moment to go public?’

  A woman scorned, she wanted to say, but he wouldn’t have heard her. He and Hope were two of the most physically blessed people she’d ever met and both had an amazing lack of vanity. He was so used to women lusting after him, he probably didn’t notice one more or less.

  She closed her eyes. Where do I begin? she thought. ‘I’ve done some things I regret…’

  ‘If you feel the urge to confess, go see a priest,’ he advised harshly. ‘I’m not here to make you feel better.’

  ‘Oh, Sam!’ She bit her lip and his eyes became riveted on a single scarlet droplet of blood that trembled on the pale pink fullness. ‘Isn’t there something you can do to stop the story?’

  ‘You overestimate my powers. Once the machinery of the free press starts moving it flattens everything in its way.’ She dabbed the spot of blood with her tongue and a shudder racked his body. ‘Tell me, Rosalind, do you wreck all your boyfriends’ lives or am I getting special treatment? Should I warn your blond Adonis?’

  She looked at him blankly. ‘I don’t…’

  ‘I saw you outside the hospital. I wanted to catch you alone, but then lover boy showed up. Silver Mercedes,’ he added, with a cynical smile. ‘He must h
ave brought you home.’

  God, he thought Adam… ‘He’s not my boyfriend; he’s married.’

  ‘From the way he was all over you that could soon change.’ Sam could almost see the neon arrow over his head inscribed with the word ‘jealous’. He read compassion in her eyes and wanted to break something—he didn’t need Rosalind Lacey’s pity!

  ‘I’ve popped the boys in the bath. Would you be an angel and keep an eye on them for me, Lindy?’ Anna breezed into the room.

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Lindy seized on the opportunity to escape. She didn’t want to let Anna see how upset she was or she’d begin to ask some very awkward questions. Subtlety wasn’t her sister’s strongest point.

  She was halfway up the broad, curving sweep of stairs when Sam’s long legs caught up with her. ‘Your sister suggested I keep you company.’

  ‘She would!’ Being an only child had distinct advantages, she reflected. ‘You could have refused.’

  ‘It would have taken a braver man than me.’

  ‘Sometimes I don’t know how Adam puts up with her!’ Lindy pushed open the twins’ bedroom door and picked her way over the clutter of toys.

  ‘Is their marriage in trouble?’

  Lindy gave a laugh. ‘They’re still at the honeymoon stage; maybe they always will be. I think they fell in love the first moment they met.’ She paused to pick up a large red truck that blocked her way. ‘It’s not exactly a tranquil relationship. It wouldn’t suit me, but they seem to like it that way. Boys, stop that!’ The bathroom floor was swimming with water.

  Kneeling beside the bath, Lindy returned half the plastic bathroom toys to the tub. ‘Try to keep some of the water inside the bath, please.’

  She got up, the steamy atmosphere already turning the fine wisps of hair around her face into a halo of curls. ‘You don’t have to stay. I won’t tell Anna.’

  ‘I saw Ben in the bath, once.’ The depth of longing in his voice made startled tears stand out in her eyes.

  He tore his eyes away from the children and looked at Lindy.

  ‘Don’t you mind giving all this up for your married stud? Domesticity, children,’ he elaborated harshly.

  Lindy knew he resented the fact that she’d witnessed his expression of loss. ‘I have my career.’ She didn’t bother correcting his assumption that Adam was her lover. While he thought that, he couldn’t know how incomplete her life felt without him. He couldn’t know she still loved him. I love him and he actually hates me, she thought.

  ‘Is that enough?’

  ‘It is for you. Do you think my biological clock makes me so different?’

  ‘Were you always so slick at avoiding giving a straight answer? You must be pretty crazy over this guy, Rosalind.’

  ‘Why?’ She pulled the plug on the boys. ‘Time up; the water’s getting cold.’ She held open one fluffy bath sheet and wrapped it firmly around the first body to clamber from the bath. Rather to her surprise, Sam did the same for his namesake. ‘Get in your pyjamas before you clean your teeth,’ she instructed as they both emerged from their vigorous rubs dry and glowing.

  Sam took hold of the opposite corners of the bath sheet she held and they folded it corner to corner. They both took a step forward to finish the job. Sam pressed his end of the towelling square in her hands, but didn’t quite release his grip.

  ‘Because you are willing to forget all your high-minded principles for him,’ he said, continuing their conversation as if there had been no interruption.

  ‘I didn’t say it was serious.’ It occurred to her that it was faintly bizarre to conduct a conversation about a situation that didn’t exist beyond Sam’s fertile imagination.

  ‘Not serious! You were ready to pillory me over a youthful indiscretion. You gave a very forcible imitation of the moral majority back then. I didn’t even rate a fair hearing, and here you are sounding casual about sleeping with a married man! I’ve met some screwed-up females in my life, but you’re in a class of your own!’

  His fingertips brushed against the inside of her wrist and suddenly pain at his scathing comments took second place to the flood of sensation that spread from that tiny point of contact to bathe her body in a tingling glow. The desire that writhed in her belly was a dark, hungry thing that robbed her mind of rational thought in the space of a heartbeat.

  ‘Please, Sam!’ she pleaded huskily. Eyes half closed, she swayed. His hands moved up her arms, gripping the flesh of her upper arms.

  He was going to kiss her—she could almost taste him. She could smell his warm body, the distinctive musky male odour that her senses had been starved of.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’

  She was pushed away and the normal world rushed in. The world that held the noisy sounds of children in the adjoining room, the damp material twisted in her fingers and the look of disgust in the eyes of the man in front of her.

  The sense of vulnerability was overwhelming. She couldn’t trust herself to be in his company. ‘Just do one thing for me.’ She couldn’t shrug off this incident with a few flippant comments or seek refuge in any more stupid deceptions. ‘Please don’t stay for supper.’ I can’t bear it, she wanted to sob. If he didn’t leave soon, she probably would! I begged him! she thought, silently squirming with mortification.

  His gaze ran slowly over her face. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a silent mobile phone. ‘I just received a very urgent message.’

  She sagged with relief. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I’m not doing this for your benefit,’ he said sardonically. ‘I value my sanity.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ‘HAVE you seen what it says in the paper today?’ Beth Lacey folded the newspaper and refilled her husband’s teacup.

  Like most farmers, Charlie Lacey had already been up for several hours. He sat in his work clothes whilst his wife and daughter were still in their dressing gowns.

  ‘After what they wrote about Hope I’d have thought you’d take everything you read there with a pinch of salt,’ he observed, spreading jam thickly on his toast.

  ‘Poor Hope,’ Beth said.

  ‘Poor Hope nothing; it’s us that has to put up with the spiteful tongues.’ Charlie Lacey still resented the slights his wife had had to contend with in the small community since the story about their daughter’s fictitious affair had been splashed over the national papers.

  ‘We know the truth, dear.’ Beth received an unimpressed grunt by way of reply. ‘You know him, don’t you, Lindy?’

  ‘Who?’ Lindy asked lethargically.

  ‘What time did you finish work last night?’ her father demanded, shifting his attention from his food to his pale-faced daughter.

  ‘Eleven-thirty.’

  ‘You were out before me yesterday morning.’

  ‘It was a split shift, Dad. I had a couple of hours free in the afternoon.’

  ‘Couple of hours,’ he snorted disparagingly. ‘You should still be in bed. You look awful.’

  ‘Thanks for sharing that,’ Lindy replied drily. As much as she appreciated her parents’ concern, living at home after so many years’ independence did have its disadvantages. ‘Who is it I know, Mum?’ she asked, changing the subject.

  ‘That Sam Rourke—he’s splashed all over the front cover.’ There was a rustle of paper as she passed the daily to her daughter.

  Lindy stared at the grainy photo with unfocused horror. So it had finally happened. Being prepared didn’t lessen the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Even though none of Sam’s accusations was true, in some strange way she did feel responsible. She couldn’t bring herself to read the lurid headlines.

  ‘So tragic,’ her mother continued, oblivious to her daughter’s feelings on the subject. ‘That poor little boy.’ She gave a sigh. ‘They don’t know if he’ll live. What a waste.’

  ‘What? What did you say?’ Lindy said in the strangest voice her mother had ever heard.

  ‘Why, what’s wrong, dear?’ Beth watched in amazement as he
r daughter wrestled with the paper, trying to turn the crumpled leaves to the appropriate page.

  ‘Never mind about that! What does it say? Who won’t live?’ She was almost sobbing with frustration as she tried to find the front page.

  ‘Don’t use that tone with your mother.’ A glance from his wife stilled Charlie Lacey’s objections.

  ‘Sam Rourke’s son has been in a terrible car crash.’

  The paper fell from Lindy’s nerveless grasp. ‘Sam’s not dying?’ she said in an empty voice. ‘He’s not dead?’ she repeated carefully. She gave a sudden dry sob and pressed her fist against her lips.

  ‘No, dear, it’s his son who’s critical. Mr Rourke has rushed to his side, apparently, though why that should surprise anyone I don’t know. It’s what parents do,’ she added with a gentle smile.

  ‘I must get dressed,’ Lindy said, glancing down at her towelling robe with an abstracted expression. ‘What time is it?’

  ‘What are you doing?’ Charlie asked before his daughter swept from the room.

  ‘Why, going to Sam, of course,’ she replied, as though the answer were obvious.

  ‘I think life might have been easier if we’d had sons,’ her father observed as she slammed the door behind her. ‘I feel very old,’ he complained to his wife.

  ‘Dr Lacey?’

  Hand outstretched, she went forward. Bless Adam, she thought; he’s come up trumps again.

  ‘Fred Bohman.’ Her hand was pumped enthusiastically. Dr Bohman was a large man, with a girth that she couldn’t have spanned with both arms. ‘This is kinda unorthodox,’ he went on, looking her up and down. ‘You are a doctor?’

  ‘Cross my heart,’ she assured him solemnly. She still couldn’t believe she’d got here so quickly. It was mostly thanks to Adam. When she’d rung him to say she wouldn’t be coming into work, he’d somehow wangled her intentions out of her. He hadn’t tried to dissuade her or even complained at being let down. Instead, he’d rung back half an hour later, having got her a cancellation place on the next flight to New York. She’d had to arrange the internal flight connection herself.