The Doctor's Secret Son

by Janice Lynn

  “Now I see him. Thank you,” he told the little boy as he looked in the right direction. “I’d hate to have missed seeing him.”

  “He has big teeth,” Joss pointed out, even though you couldn’t see much as the alligator’s mouth was closed.

  “The better to eat me with,” Trace teased, chomping his teeth.

  “Trace,” Savannah laughed.

  “What? I’m just pointing that out. Just in case.”

  “Just in case what?”

  His expression suggested that maybe he thought she might push him in—not that she could. The glass wall was too high for that.

  Not that she’d thought of doing such a thing, anyway.

  At least not now that both of her guys were finally smiling.

  They continued their trek through the aquarium, going down one floor at a time, petted the manta rays, which Joss loved, then finished up their tour at the souvenir shop.

  “Can I have a toy, Mommy, please?”

  “Not today, Joss. We bought the stuffed penguin the last time we were here and I told you we wouldn’t get anything the next time we came.”

  “But I need a manta ray.”

  Yeah, her sweet little angel was on a roll.

  “Not today.”

  “Why not?”

  The question had come from Trace and had both Chrissie and Joss looking his way.

  Chrissie didn’t want to argue with him, especially not in front of Joss. She forced a smile. “Because Joss got a toy the last time he came and we don’t get new toys every time. He knows that.”

  She didn’t want Joss to grow up spoiled and unappreciative of life’s blessings. She tried to find a balance and for the most part felt she succeeded. Her son knew they didn’t get new souvenirs at every visit.

  Trace bent to Joss’s level. “If you want the manta ray, I’ll buy it for you. An otter, too, if you want it.”

  Joss’s eyes immediately went to hers. If she’d already told him no on something, she didn’t allow others to then do it for him. At three, he already knew this, although he wasn’t beyond trying on occasion with his grandmother.

  Trying to choose her words carefully, Chrissie started to explain to Trace that she’d already said no and that was the end of it. Because she had final say. Because she was the parent.

  But so was Trace.

  That was when the full ramifications of Trace being in their lives hit her.

  She no longer had final say over decisions where Joss was concerned. She no longer got to decide what was good for him and what was bad for him and how much was just right. At least, not by herself she didn’t get to decide those things.

  If he wanted to buy Joss the entire store, he had just as much right to do that as she had to say no.

  What if she and Trace fundamentally disagreed on even the most basic of things when it came to child rearing?

  What if they never agreed and one always said no and the other always said yes? What if Joss grew to hate her because she was the parent who tried to create boundaries and Trace showered him with gifts?

  What if Joss treated her the way he treated Trace?

  Her skin began to shrink around her body, squeezing her insides to where she felt as if she were about to cave in on herself. To where every breath was a struggle.

  Her gaze met Trace’s and she tried to speak, but nothing came out. Nothing.

  Panic rising in her throat, she glanced around the shop, her mind racing, her feet itching, her knees weak.

  “No—just no.” With that, she grabbed Joss’s hand and walked over to a shark book display and fought the paralysis taking hold of her body.

  Because she wanted to run, with Joss, and never turn back.

  But she wasn’t like her father. No matter how strong that urge inside her was, she knew she wasn’t.

  * * *

  Not quite understanding what had just happened, Trace watched Chrissie practically freeze next to a book display.

  His gaze dropped down to where Chrissie clinched Joss’s little hand in a death grip.

  Obviously confused, Joss kept turning to look at him expectantly, waiting for him to respond.

  Because he was the adult here. Not that he had any clue what had just happened.

  He wanted to give Joss things, for Joss to have something physical that he’d given him. A stuffed manta ray was as good a place to start as any.

  “I’ll get the manta ray and meet you two out front,” he offered.

  “Fine,” Chrissie agreed, keeping her back to him.

  Too bad, because he’d really like to see what was in those expressive eyes of hers right now.

  Joss was looking at him though. And not in a good way. His little face squished up, his eyes watered, then he shook his head. “I don’t need a manta ray.”

  His tone sounded almost identical to what Chrissie’s had earlier, only with a big heap of sadness.

  Good grief. More was going on here than whether or not a stuffed toy was going to be bought. Way more. Not that Trace understood what was running through Chrissie’s head, but something sure was.

  “I’d like to buy you one, but if you want to wait until next time, we can.”

  The tears welling in his eyes threatened to spill down his cheeks. “Can we go home?”

  All kinds of heartstrings were pulling in dozens of directions as he looked into his son’s sorrowful eyes.

  “Yes, we can.”

  Only Joss had to go to the bathroom. When Chrissie started to take him into the women’s room, which was what he guessed she usually did rather than let Joss go into a bathroom alone, Trace had to speak up.

  “I’ll take him with me into the men’s room.”

  Fear lit her eyes. Real, no-holds-barred fear. Which confused Trace every bit as much as her behavior over his buying the kid a stuffed manta ray.

  “It’s really no bother,” she protested. “It’s what we usually do.”

  “Chrissie, it’s ridiculous for him to go into the ladies’ room when I’m right here and can take him to the men’s room.”

  “But...”

  He watched the very real struggle on her face, watched the physical effort she had to exert for her to let go of the boy’s hand.

  “Okay. I’ll be waiting.” She glanced around, through the glass. “There. On that bench. I’ll be waiting right there. Don’t take too long. Please.”

  Trace really wanted to question her on the stress in her voice. It was only a trip to the bathroom. Was it a trust thing? Did she think he wouldn’t keep an eye on their son? That he’d scold him if he had an accident? That he’d forget to make him wash his hands? What?

  Although Chrissie’s saying no had robbed him of the chance of giving his son a present, Joss’s need for the bathroom had given him the gift of holding Joss’s hand without the boy pulling away, whether that was out of courtesy or out of knowledge that they were in a public place and he needed to be holding an adult’s hand. Either way, Trace was grateful for the tiny hand clasped inside his.

  Trace stayed right with Joss, talked to him, and was proud of the way the three-year-old, who was in such a hurry to get back to his mother, managed himself in the bathroom, including automatically wanting to wash his hands afterward. Chrissie had taught their son well.

  When they exited the bathroom, Joss spotted Chrissie immediately, even prior to Trace doing so.

  “There she is!” he called, sounding relieved she was there. Had he thought she was leaving them despite her saying she’d be waiting?

  Then again, the relief on Chrissie’s face at spotting them had Trace pausing. What the...?

  Joss pulled on Trace’s hand, wanting to dash toward where Chrissie sat on a bench close to where the water was that Joss had wanted to get int
o earlier.

  “Slow down, son,” Trace told him, falling back into step with his son. “We’re headed that way.”

  But Joss kept on tugging, setting as fast a pace as possible to his mother.

  When they joined her, Chrissie looked up, her gaze searching them both, as if looking for battle scars.

  She glanced toward the water. “Do you still want to play in the water?”

  But rather than answer immediately, Joss studied her face, trying to gauge her expression on what she wanted him to say, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to take her odd behavior in the aquarium shop.

  Which irked Trace. Was she emotionally manipulating their son because he’d spoken up to buy the boy something she’d said no to? Did the fact Joss had lightened up to him a little bother her and she wanted to add the tension back?

  He hadn’t thought she was trying to prevent Joss from warming to him, but maybe she was.

  “I’d like to play in the water,” Chrissie added, smiling at her son, albeit a little weakly. “And I bet your daddy would like to play in the water, too.”

  Okay, so maybe he was being paranoid. Or letting his frustration over her having rushed out of the souvenir shop mess with his head. Or maybe everything these days was messing with his head.

  Joss and his reluctance to have much to do with him. Chrissie and his mixed-up feelings for her. Physically, he wanted her and ached for her. Emotionally, he’d never felt more betrayed.

  Joss glanced up at Trace with big, uncertain eyes. “Would you?”

  Oh, heaven of heavens.

  “I would.”

  More than anything in the world he’d like to play in the water with this little boy.

  And his mother.

  Chrissie left the bench and went to the pool of water. She sat on the edge, obviously not caring that her shorts were likely to have damp spots when she stood. She slipped her sandals off and put her feet into the water.

  “That’s cold,” she said, wrapping her arms around her chest and pretending to shiver despite the hot sun.

  Relaxing, Joss laughed and joined her, quickly stripping off his own shoes.

  “Brr...” he said as he stepped into the water and wrapped his little arms around himself. “It is cold.”

  “Unless you’re a penguin,” Chrissie added, sending a tiny splash her son’s way. “And then it’s just right.”

  “I’m a penguin,” Joss said, a big smile on his face, as if all was perfect in his world and always had been. “A big ole penguin looking for a fish to eat.”

  He made a chomping motion.

  Finally relaxing, too, Chrissie laughed.

  Trace watched in amazement at how quickly Joss had gone from pouty to remorseful to carefree as he pranced around in the water that came up to the edge of his shorts. Each exaggerated step he took splashed water all around him, but not nearly so much as when he smacked the water with his little hands and burst into giggles.

  “Daddy,” Chrissie called, sending a spray of water in Trace’s direction. “You afraid this penguin is going to mistake you for a big juicy fish?”

  Joss made a chomping noise toward Trace, seeming okay that Chrissie had included him in their fun.

  “Nah, we penguins can tell other penguins apart from big juicy fish quite easily.” He kicked off his shoes, stepped into the water, and made a chomping noise that was a decent imitation of the sounds Joss was making.

  “Mommy is a big juicy fish,” Joss declared, heading her way, and giggling when Trace did the same. “We’re going to get you, fishy-fishy.”

  “Are you a hungry penguin?” she teased when Trace got close.

  “Very hungry.” He made another chomping sound and Joss squealed, half in delight and half in possible concern.

  “Don’t really eat her. She’s my mommy.”

  “Good point,” Trace agreed, his eyes still locked with Chrissie’s, trying to read what had triggered her mood change.

  If it hadn’t been an intentional attempt to keep emotional distance between him and Joss, and he had to admit to himself that, up to that point, she’d gone above and beyond in trying to get Joss to warm to him, then what?

  Whatever it had been, she seemed determined to keep a smile on her face now.

  Or on Joss’s at any rate, because their son burst into excited squeals when Chrissie splashed Trace with water again.

  “That does it. You’re mine, fishy-fishy,” he warned, calling her by the same name as Joss had used.

  “Nope, she’s mine,” Joss corrected, splashing over to where Chrissie was and pretending to gobble her up. “Mmm... She tastes good.”

  At which Trace’s mind took off in a completely non-innocent way as his gaze met hers.

  “Yeah, she does.”

  Chrissie’s eyes darkened. His gut tightened.

  Without a doubt, he knew he should have kept that thought to himself because the last thing he needed was to complicate things further by becoming involved physically with Chrissie again.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “TODAY WAS A better day,” Chrissie mused that evening as she and Trace slipped out of Joss’s bedroom.

  They’d bathed him, read to him, and put him to bed quite some time ago. Joss had been a bit wound up and it had taken a good thirty minutes to get him settled. She’d tried to let Trace read to him, but Joss had insisted she read his stories. Even so, Joss hadn’t been opposed to Trace being in the room, listening to the stories. Instead of the resentment from the previous nights, he’d instead cast his gaze at his father during the “good’ parts, as if gauging Trace’s reaction.

  Eventually he’d dozed off to sleep.

  Trace didn’t respond to her comment until they were in the living room. His question felt more like an attack.

  “Why didn’t you let him have a manta ray?”

  “What?” she asked, sitting on the far end of the sofa. His question caught her off guard. Mainly, because the rest of their day had been fairly good, considering. Joss hadn’t been so standoffish and Chrissie had managed not to break down at the thought that Trace had just as much say in the raising of their son as she did, that he had just as much right to their son as she did.

  Even now the thought just felt wrong.

  “You heard me,” Trace pointed out, taking the other end of the sofa. “What was the big deal about him getting a stuffed animal? He should be able to have a keepsake from the first time he went to the aquarium with me.”

  When he put it that way...

  “Sorry.” She really was. About so many things. Like her irrational fear that Trace might have taken off with Joss when she’d left them alone. “I wasn’t thinking about it being the first time he went with you when I said no. I don’t want him spoiled and had told him the last time we were there that if he got something that day, that he wouldn’t be able to the next time he came.”

  Trace crossed his arms and stared at her from the other end of the sofa. His scowl didn’t relent. “Okay, so you were going for consistency in your parenting. I understand that. But maybe you’d like to explain what was such a big deal about me taking him to the bathroom?”

  “No, I wouldn’t like to explain that.” Because how petty did it sound that she’d panicked at the thought that she no longer had final say over her son, but now shared that responsibility with Trace? That she’d been afraid he might take off with their son if she left them alone? Trace had given her no reason to think he’d do that, so pretty petty.

  The deepening furrow of his brows warned he wasn’t going to let her answer ride.

  A damn burst inside her and emotions came gushing forward full-force.

  “You’re not the only one dealing with a lot of new, mixed emotions, you know,” she blurted out, surprising both her and Trace with her intensi
ty. “I wasn’t expecting you to come here and demand to stay at my house and interrupt our lives.”

  His brow lifted. “You thought I’d stay away after your phone call?”

  “I didn’t know what to think. You were the one who said you didn’t want children. Four years ago and less than two weeks ago. Plus, you’re leaving the country again soon. When I called I thought you might already have gone.”

  “And yet you called.”

  He made it sound like a dirty thing that she had done. Did he wish he could go back to not knowing Joss existed?

  “You don’t have to be here. Just go back to Atlanta or wherever it is you’d rather be. There’s nothing Joss and I need from you.”

  “No, you’ve done a really good job convincing my son that he doesn’t need a father.”

  “Of course I have. I want him to grow up happy and healthy and if he bemoaned the fact that he didn’t have a father it might affect his mental and emotional health.” Didn’t she know firsthand how growing up without a father felt? “I’d never knowingly let that happen.”

  “But you would have allowed him to grow up without a father had our paths not crossed again at CCPO?”

  “Probably,” she admitted, hating that it was true, but acknowledging it all the same. “I’d convinced myself I was doing you a favor in not telling you.”

  “Because?”

  “Because I thought you were living the high life in Atlanta...that you didn’t want to be tied down by a relationship and kids.” She tossed his former claim back at him.

  “And what is it you want, Chrissie? What is it you hope to gain from having told me about Joss?”

  He had money and was probably implying that was why she’d told him. If so, he was wrong.

  “There isn’t a thing you have that I want,” she declared with a tilt of her chin.

  Her angry spark had his brow arching.

  “Isn’t there?”

  She shook her head.

  “We both know that if I touched you, you’d go up in smoke.”

  No, she didn’t know that. Well, maybe she did, but she wasn’t admitting to a thing.