Their Secret Child

by Mary J. Forbes

  Addie sprinted into the school's driveway.

  Belle Sherman, the principal, and her assistant waited with Kat under the portico of the entrance doors.

  "Addie!" Her sister rushed forward. "It's okay. She's with Lee."

  "With...Lee?" Her heart thrashed, an untamed creature between her ribs. Thank God, thank God. "Why's she with Lee?"

  "I don't know, but she phoned me, said I should get here immediately since I lived closest. Figured you'd be a mess. And she was right." Kat smiled. "Take a deep breath, honey. Anyway, they were down at the ferry dock. Becky and Michaela both. Belle called Skip."

  Addie dropped her shoes and shoved her hands into her hair. "Oh, Kat. I thought I'd die on the spot when they told me she was... was..."

  Her sister's arms surrounded Addie in a fierce hug. "It's over, sis. She's safe. They're both safe. Lee's driving them to the school right now." Easing her grip, she looked past Addie. "Someone's here."

  "Addie." His deep voice spun her around. He stood a few feet away, the sun sharpening the hard angles of his face and deepening the brown of his eyes. His big hands flexed at his sides and his chest pumped under the expensive fabric of his tailored tan shirt as if he'd raced the distance like a receiver bent on a touchdown.

  "Skip... Oh, God. Mick and Becky..." She gulped air. "Why would they run away?"

  Oblivious of their audience, he came forward, kissed her forehead and wiped her cheeks with his thumbs. "We'll find out in a minute, sweetheart. First, we need to take care of your poor heels." And then he hoisted her into his aims and carried her inside to the medical room, where he tended to her torn feet.

  When Lee's red Jeep turned the corner of the school's street, Addie covered her mouth and rolled her lips inward to hold back a cry. She could see the girls in the rear seat, eyes anxious.

  The instant Lee stopped alongside the curb, the back door opened. Michaela hopped out first, then Becky.

  "Michaela Jane," Addie began, anger overriding angst now that she knew the girls were safe. "What on earth were you thinking to leave school property when you did not have my permission to do so?"

  Becky stepped forward. "It's my fault." She looked at Skip standing beside Addie. "I'm sorry, Daddy." Her voice was soft and full of tears. "Yesterday, I told Mick I was going to visit my mom's...my mom's grave...b-because today is her birthday. And..." She took Michaela's hand. "My.. .my little sister wanted to come and keep me company while I said...while I said—" she pushed a palm against her nose "—goodbye."

  "Oh, little one," Addie murmured, taking a step toward the children.

  "Bean." Skip hunkered down on the balls of his feet and Addie knew he was putting himself on a less threatening level. "Was this what you meant last night about being 'sort of sick?"

  Clearly distraught, the girl nodded. "I didn't mean to cause so much trouble. Guess I should've told you or...or left a note."

  "You're right." Skip agreed. "Telling us would have been the right thing, the only thing to do."

  A tear crept down her cheek and her chin wobbled. Addie glanced at Skip. His Adam's apple shifted on a swallow as he reached for their daughter's hand.

  "It's okay, Becky." Michaela hugged her sister. "Maybe Mommy and your daddy will take us to your mom's grave."

  Oh, button, your heart is so big. Clasping Skip's shoulder, Addie said. "Mick's right, Becky. We'll take you there today."

  "You will?" The girl stared at Addie.

  "A birthday is just too important to miss."

  Becky blinked back tears.

  Addie spoke to Lee, who was waiting behind the wheel of her Jeep, elbow hooked on the windowsill. "Are you booked this afternoon?"

  "Nope." She grinned. "Matter of fact, I'm free until four."

  "Good. That'll give Skip and I—" she squeezed his shoulder "—time to call in a couple of substitute teachers for the afternoon, and the girls to gather their homework. Will that work for you and your team, Skip?"

  He rose, knees popping. "The assistants can handle practice for one day. My family comes first." He turned to Lee and smiled. "Hey, Lee. It's been a while."

  She nodded. "A tad."

  "Thanks for bringing the girls."

  "No problem. Just glad I was getting my morning Java at Coffee Sense when I saw Michaela heading for the ferry ticket office."

  "We owe you."

  "They're my nieces. There's nothing to owe. So. Meet you all at my dock in about thirty minutes?"

  "Sounds like a plan," Skip said gruffly.

  Addie slipped her hand in his as Lee pulled from the curb. "Thanks," she mouthed to her sister.

  Michaela jumped up and down. "Yippee! We get to fly in Aunty Lee's plane, Becky!"

  "Hold on, pint," Skip said, crouching again. "Going in Aunty Lee's plane isn't a reward for what you girls did."

  Immediately subdued. Michaela nodded. "I'm s-s-sorry, S-Skip. I'll never leave the s-s-school again."

  He took her hand in his large one. "That's good, because you don't want Mom or me to cry."

  Her eyes widened. "You'd cry?"

  "If you or Bean were lost and we couldn't find you? Oh, honey, we'd cry to fill a lake."

  Addie watched as her baby stepped forward, set her little palm against his jaw. "Please, don't cry, Skip. I don't like it when Mommy's sad."

  Pulling her forward, he kissed her hair. "Okay," he whispered. "Only if you and Bean promise to always tell us your plans."

  "We promise. Come on, Mom." Michaela tugged Addie toward the school doors. "Let's get my homework so Becky can fly in Aunty Lee's plane."

  "All right." She chuckled. "I'm coming."

  At the doors, she couldn't help one last look back at the man who, in a single moment, had become a father to her youngest child. Hand on Becky's shoulder, he walked toward the high school, their dark heads glimmering in the sun, their posture and gait so endearingly familiar.

  And then Becky cast back a glance, too—and her shy smile shone into Addie's heart.

  The flight to the mainland in Lee's red and white Cessna 185 took twenty minutes. While Lee remained at the small municipal terminal talking with several pilots. Skip rented a car and drove his girls to the cemetery.

  His girls.

  Yes, Addie, Becky and Michaela were his girls, his family now. In the rearview mirror, he watched the children, heads bent together, whispering girly things to each other. Beside him. Addie searched along the tree-lined street for the place that could heal their daughter...or send her into a darker place than she'd been four years ago.

  The cemetery came into view and a balloon filled his throat. As he pulled into the small parking lot, the girls quieted. Turning in the seat, he asked, "Do you know where your mom is, Bean?"

  Her blue eyes darted to Addie, and his heart jerked. "Yeah," she said. Gathering up her knapsack, she opened the car door. When they stood under the wrought iron sign over the bricked entranceway, she stared ahead, closed off from them once more. "I want to go alone, okay?"

  Skip nodded. "We'll be right here in case you need us."

  Head bent, she started up the pebbled path, a small lone figure against a field of bleached stone markers. His heart went with her.

  Michaela stood between Addie and Skip, and suddenly her little fingers curled around his. Without looking down, without drawing attention to the gesture, he gently took her hand.

  "She's saying goodbye," Michaela informed them as they watched Becky kneel on the grass at a distance of a hundred paces.

  "Goodbye?" Addie looked down at her child.

  "Uh-huh. She wrote her mom a letter and told her that she has to say goodbye 'cause she's gotta be with her other mom now." The child glanced up. "You. Mommy."

  "She said that?" The leap of hope in Addie's eyes tore at Skip.

  "Uh-huh." Michaela went on, watching Becky. "An' she wants me to be her real sister."

  "But you are her real sister, button."

  "No, I mean, that we gotta have the same last name."

&nb
sp; "Really?" Addie's eyes flew to Skip and he swallowed hard.

  "Uh-huh. She said so when we went to the ferry. She wants us to live in her house—I mean, in Skip's house—an' she wants me to have the bedroom next to hers, an' she wants me 'n her to bake bread and cookies together, an'— Here she comes." Unable to wait any longer, Michaela ran forward, hands flapping little-girl style at her sides, down the path toward Becky.

  "Omigod, Skip," Addie whispered when Becky clasped Michaela's hand. "Our baby is so strong, so strong."

  "They both are, honey." Skip looked down into her eyes. misty with tears. "They're part of you."

  Together they waited for the girls to walk through the gate. And for Becky to come home at last.

  The scent of baked bread infused the house.

  Humming to herself, Addie pulled out the last of four loaves from Skip's oven—though these days it was more her own—and turned each onto thick towels spread across the counter. Outside the wide windows the backyard lay awash in a gray October rain that had come with the dawn and had continued into the afternoon.

  A perfect Saturday for baking, especially with the help she'd had in the process.

  Addie smiled. When she'd promised several weeks ago to teach Becky about bread making, it was to grant the child a memory-coping technique. But this morning, with her institutions on how to mix the dough from scratch, knead it, separate it into rounds, cover it for rising. ..Addie discovered she'd passed on something else. She'd passed on an old and honored practice traveling back along the generations, grandmother to mother to daughter.

  "Maybe one day." Becky had said, a patch of flour in her dark hair, "I can teach somebody to make bread."

  "And how to keep bees." Michaela had volunteered.

  And maybe one day they would. Maybe one day both traditions would pass on to their children.

  Yes, Addie thought, much had changed since the day at the cemetery in Lynnwood. That day, Becky had accepted Addie. lifting the tension between them. Perhaps someday she would even say "Mom." But the word wasn't key to Addie's happiness. No, that revolved around Becky's love for Michaela and Skip.

  "You're cheerful."

  She glanced up. Phone in hand after a call to an assistant coach, he sat in the eating nook surrounded by rain-drenched windows. On a clear day they looked out on the nearby forest and its scattering of birdhouses.

  "Care to share?" Skip asked, grinning.

  Suddenly shy, she shrugged. "Just...this and that."

  He walked across the room, slipped his arms around her waist. "Do you know how sexy this apron is?"

  She chuckled. "Don't get any ideas about taking it or anything else off. The girls will be back from the honey shed any minute."

  "Hadn't crossed my mind."

  Laughing, she stepped from his embrace, retrieved the melted butter from the stove. "After last night?"

  Skip wiggled his eyebrows. "You know me too well, bee lady."

  Yesterday evening Charmaine had taken the girls to a movie while Skip and Addie spent a few hours alone. Rather than waste time driving into town, they had opted for a quiet dinner—and more—here.

  Brushing a light coat of butter across the loaf tops, she said, "Did you ever think two years ago we'd be in this very spot?"

  His face sobered. "You were still married then, Addie. But I never stopped wishing."

  Somewhere deep inside, neither had she. Now, with their lives on the same path, she wanted more. And so did Skip. "When should we talk to the girls about renting out my house?" she asked.

  Before he could respond, the front door burst open and giggles bubbled through the house. Becky and Mick had returned. Using the apron to wipe her hands, Addie headed for the foyer.

  Rain dripped from the children's hair, noses and slickers. Mud coated their boots and both pairs of jeans were damp to the knees.

  But, oh, those eyes! Bright with pure glee.

  Fighting a grin, she took the bee-shaped honey jars from their reddened hands. "Seems you two took a few detours."

  "There are millions and millions of puddles. Mom." Mick exclaimed. "It was really, really hard to walk and not step in one. Right, Bean?"

  "Uh-huh. There weren't any clear spots."

  "I can see that," Addie dead panned.

  Behind her, Skip laughed.

  Five minutes later, dressed in dry clothes, the girls sat politely and quietly at the kitchen table, and the slices of freshly baked bread slathered in homegrown honey remained untouched on their plates.

  Their glee was gone.

  In its place, two somber faces cast glances at each other, then at Skip and Addie. Her stomach dipped. Had something gone amiss at the honey shed—or upstairs while they changed clothes?

  "Thought you girls were hungry," Skip said, winking at Addie. trying, she knew, to ignore the sudden tension. "You're missing out." He reached for a second slice, drizzled on more honey.

  Becky took Michaela's hand. "We want to ask you something."

  Under the table Skip's knee nudged Addie's in support. "Shoot."

  "Well." Becky began. "Me'n Mick got this idea..."

  "About you, Mom." Her youngest beamed.

  "And you, Dad." Again the shared glance. "You might not agree, or like it, but—" Becky hiked her chin "—we do."

  Defiance in their eyes, they stared at Skip and Addie.

  "Becky," he said, "unless you girls tell us what's on your minds, we can't make a decision."

  "Okay." She inhaled hard. "We want you to marry Addie, 'cause then we can be sisters forever."

  "Yeah." Michaela focused on Addie. "Sisters like you and Aunty Kat and Aunty Lee."

  "Oh, girls." She felt a rush of tears. "I don't—"

  "Please, Mom," Michaels blurted. "Our house is old an' ugly, an' anyways I wanna live in Becky's house so Skip can be like my dad an' you can be like Bean's mom an'—an' everything."

  "Please, Addie." Becky's expression held a world of wishes. "I'll call you Mom if you marry Dad."

  Skip shoved back his chair and went to squat between the children. "Girls, there's no requirement to call us Mom or Dad unless you want to. Meantime, your mom and I—" across the table his eyes captured Addie's "—would be honored to accept your request."

  "You would?" Becky zeroed in on Addic.

  "Oh, sweetie... Nothing would make us happier."

  Cheering, the girls darted out of the chairs and around the table to hug Addie while she stared at Skip, awestruck. Our dreams are complete, she wanted to tell him. but the words were too thick.

  His ear-to-ear grin said he understood completely.

  And couldn't agree more.

  Epilogue

  Thanksgiving night. Ten weeks later...

  Addie parked herself against the counter and looked across Skip's kitchen—their kitchen—to where he crouched to retrieve Barbie and Ken dolls off the floor under the table. The range light's soft glow touched his dark hair with bits of gold. His pearl-gray shirt stretched across his wide shoulders and slotted tiny pleats where the cloth met his charcoal dress slacks. Loosened moments ago, his red tie hung like a pair of broad ribbons down his chest. My husband, she thought, wanting nothing more than to wrap her arms around him and never let go.

  A few hours before, the house was full of the clamor of their families—Charmaine, Lee, Kat. Blake and Miriam Dalton—as they witnessed Addie, Skip. Michaela and Becky become their own family with the help of the local minister. To celebrate, they'd swallowed miniflutes of nonalcoholic punch, and feasted on a Thanksgiving turkey glazed in the honey from Addie's bees and cooked by Lee and Kat.

  Now, with the families gone and the girls sleeping over at Kat's for the weekend, the house lay quiet with night and warmth.

  Addie thought of how precious Michaela and Becky looked in their rosy-pink skirts and shoes, carrying white calla lilies to match their tops and Addie's shin-length dress. Forgoing traditional practices, their daughters had wanted to give their parents to each other. Michaela had presente
d Skip with Addie's ring while Becky had offered Skip's ring to Addie.

  As if sensing her mood, he glanced up. "I thought," he said, voice a little raspy, "that Mick might wonder where these were when she gets home." He looked down at the dolls dressed in conventional bride and groom clothes.

  Addie's heart sang. "Do you realize," she said, walking over and taking the dolls to set them on the table before casing her arms around her husband's neck, "what a wonderful father you are?"

  "Well..." He tugged her against him. "I couldn't leave poor old Ken lying on the floor beside his bride. She might get the wrong impression."

  Addie huffed a tiny laugh. "Not if she's thinking like this bride. Lying on the floor, lying in the grass, on the beach, in the woods, in bed..." She kissed his jaw. "Every place is perfect as long as the lying down can be with her husband."

  "Every place, huh?" He took her hand, snuggled close, swayed gently to a melody only he heard. "What if all that lying down results in another little Barbie or Ken?"

  "It's already happened."

  He stilled. "Are you sure?" Amazement trembled in his voice.

  "According to three little sticks last week and the doctor's appointment yesterday." She looked up into his dear face. "Seems we're as fertile as my queens in their hives. Do you know they can lay between fifteen hundred to three thousand eggs a day?"

  "Ah, sweetheart." Laughing, Skip danced her slowly around the kitchen. "Seems you only need one around me."

  She grinned. "And you're very good at doing the circle dance just like my bees. Does that mean, there's a new batch of flowers nearby?"

  "Thought you'd never ask." With a kiss to her nose, he lifted her into his arms and started for the stairs to the second floor.

  On the threshold of their bedroom. Skip set her down as she let out a little oooh! of delight.

  A hundred colors exploded from two massive bouquets in crystal vases on the table in the small lounging alcove. Between the vases, champagne and two flutes chilled in a bucket of ice.