Murphy's Child

by Judith Duncan

  He flipped the mouthpiece open and pushed the button to make the connection, expecting it to be Marco. But he was dead wrong. It was Jilly on the other end, and he got such a violent hot-and-cold reaction, he had to sit down.

  “Well, boyo, you called this one right.”

  His racing heart jamming up high in his chest, Murphy stared across the yard. “So what did you find out?”

  “A fair amount. She was abandoned in the Edmonton bus depot when she was just a couple of months old. The only evidence found with her, besides clothing, was a scrap of paper with some numbers on it. The crisis worker figured it was her date of birth. I think the reason her file was still on record was because there was a rather extensive medical history attached to it.”

  Feeling suddenly sick to his stomach, Murphy braced his elbow on the table and rubbed his eyes. “What kind of medical history?”

  “She was born with a severely clubbed foot, and from the records, it looked like she had other medical problems. She was in and out of the hospital a dozen times by the time she was six, and that doesn’t include the surgenes for the foot. So consequently she went through quite a few foster placements. It looks as if it was her first foster mother who named her—her maiden name was Kennedy.”

  Turning so he squarely faced the table, Murphy picked up a twig that had fallen from the huge willow overhead, his expression drawn as he broke it into tiny little pieces. She didn’t even have a name that was her own. Roughly massaging his eyes, he forced himself to speak. “Did the department ever try to track down her mother?”

  “Yeah. But the investigation turned up zip. When a baby is abandoned in a place like a bus depot, it’s pretty much a given that the mother is a transient.” There was a lengthy pause, then Jill spoke again, her voice quiet with concern. “You okay, Murphy?”

  He scraped the broken pieces of twig into a little pile. “Yeah.”

  “Is there anything else you want to know?”

  “No.”

  “Okay. If that’s it, then this report goes through the shredder, and I’m never talking about it again.”

  Murphy got a knot in his throat the size of a baseball. “Thanks, Jill.”

  There was the weight of understanding in her voice when she answered. “Anytime, Murph. And you take care.”

  Murphy sat staring at the tabletop for a long time after the call, a hollowness in his belly that seemed to shift from one place to another. So now he knew.

  Straightening, he stretched out his legs and stared across the vast expanse of yard, absently watching the sunlight dapple through the leaves on the trees, the light breeze twisting the shadows. Now the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question was what was he going to do about it? He was a damned fine house builder. He wondered how good he was at building bridges.

  Picking up his shirt, he got up. It was time he found out. Because if he put it off for even an hour, he’d never be able to face her.

  His hair was still damp from his shower when he arrived back at Jordan’s condominium, and he had so many knots in his gut that he felt as if a sackful of boulders were rolling around in there. The muscles in his face were so tight he was sure they’d crack if he so much as moved his mouth. And he felt like such a low-down creep for doing what he did—for going behind her back—that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to look her square in the eye. He had needed to know; now he did, and he was going to have to carry the ball from here.

  But Jordan made it easy for him. She must have been on the terrace and seen him park across the street, because she was waiting in the open door of her apartment when he got off the elevator. J.J., dressed in a weeny little T-shirt and diapers, squirmed and fussed in her arms, but there was a little-girl’s excitement in her eyes. “Thank you so much for the flowers, Murphy. They are so beautiful—I couldn’t believe it when they arrived.” Clasping JJ. against her with one arm, she turned inside. “Come. You’ve just got to see them.”

  The roses. He’d forgotten all about ordering the damned roses. She led him into the taupe-and-ivory living room, where a huge, fragrant bouquet sat in the middle of the wrought-iron-and-glass table. He had a brother in the greenhouse business, so he knew a rose from a rose. And these were beauties.

  The baby started to fuss and squirm some more, and she jiggled him to distract him, unable to take her eyes off the white roses that were tipped with a soft, soft peach. Murphy couldn’t take his eyes off her. He’d never seen this Ms. Jordan Kennedy so unguarded, so animated. He wondered if she’d never received flowers before. That thought gave him another sharp jab, and he knew he had to keep it light. He watched her profile as he spoke. “I didn’t send you, any flowers,” he said, his tone blunt.

  She turned and looked at him, suppressing a smile. “No, of course you didn’t.” She reached over and picked the card out of the flowers, then handed it to him.

  Dear Mom,

  I’m sorry I’m giving you fits, but I promise I’ll sleep through the night before I’m twelve.

  Love, James Jeffery.

  Good. The florist had got it word for word.

  He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “So the kid is sending you flowers. How did he get a credit card?”

  Her eyes danced as she watched him. “He can’t even print yet. So I’m almost positive he couldn’t sign a charge slip.”

  Trying to keep his expression straight, he handed the card back to her. “These kids nowadays. Just charge everything. Now he’s going to have to get a job.”

  She grinned, then set the card back in the flowers. “Maybe you can give him one laying cement or something.”

  Bam. Just like that, a whole lot of feelings kicked in. And he wanted to hug her so bad for playing along that it took every ounce of strength he had to keep his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. Lord, he had to keep a grip on that sort of thing, or he’d be so far in over his head, he’d never dig himself out.

  The baby gave a couple of sharp wails, and the life and sparkle seemed to drain right out of her. Murphy gave Jordan a scrutinizing look. He could tell it had not been a good day. In spite of her burst of animation, she looked totally wiped out, and he wondered, all totaled, just how many hours of sleep she’d actually had over the past five weeks. Instead of touching her like he wanted to, he reached out and took the baby from her. “Has he been giving you grief all day?”

  “I think he’s hungry,” she said, the animation replaced by a kind of defeat.

  “Did you have lunch?”

  She nodded, and he got the feeling she was suddenly inches away from tears. He knew what she needed, and he came up with a plan. “I have a lot of running around to do,” he said, which was an outright lie. “So why don’t you feed him, then I’ll take him with me—I can take a bottle just in case. But I’ll have to borrow your car because of the car seat.”

  Her eyes immediately filled with tears, and he could tell she just wanted to lie down right there and never get up. “But you’ve had just as little sleep as I have.”

  Jiggling the baby, who was getting dead serious about this crying, Murphy gave her an off-center grin. “Nah. I sleep at work.” Holding J.J. against him to keep the kid from smacking his face on his collarbone, he reached out and tucked some of her hair behind her ear. “Let’s give this plan a shot,” he said softly. “He always sleeps in the car—I’ll drive him to Montana and back. You could both do with a nap.”

  She tried to respond with a smile, but it just didn’t happen. The tears of drop-dead exhaustion spilled over instead. “I feel so stupid and incompetent,” she whispered, looking down. “I just don’t know what to do for him.”

  Grasping the back of her neck, he gave her head a gentle shake. “I’ll make a deal with you. You can feel incompetent today, but it’s my turn tomorrow.”

  He wasn’t sure if it was just a sob, or if he did get a little laugh out of her. He thought maybe a bit of both. “Okay?” he asked softly.

  She fished a balled-up tissue out of her pocket and wiped her nose
. “Okay.”

  From the miles he covered driving his kid around, Murphy could have gone to Montana and back. Maybe even Wyoming. Just mile after mile up and down country roads. But as long as his son slept, he drove, and he was just thankful Jordan’s car had a full tank of gas when they started out. But if he was being honest with himself, the drive was just as much for him as for J.J. And since he’d gotten through that first face-to-face with her after he’d gone snooping around in her past, Murphy needed to do some serious thinking. And he always thought best behind the wheel.

  If he was going to get anywhere, he had to do his level best to try to be honest with himself. And he knew he had to own up to some of his own baggage here. He’d never wanted to admit it—in fact, he had gone to inordinate lengths not to admit that her leaving had damned near killed him. So he’d let anger fill up that hole, and he had been hiding behind it ever since, as if it were some sort of heavy armor. But now that anger was gone. And one of the truths he had to admit to was that nothing had changed as far as his feelings for her were concerned.

  No, that wasn’t exactly accurate. Some things had changed. Finding out the truth about her had explained a whole lot. Now that he had the big picture, he understood why she was the way she was. And he even understood why she had walked out in the first place. That was her defense mechanism. But only now, knowing everything he did about her, did he fully realize the raw courage it had taken for her to face him when she’d come to tell him she was pregnant. But she had done that because she desperately wanted something for her baby. And now. Ah, God—now he desperately wanted something for them all.

  Which meant that somehow he was going to have to convince her that he was in it for the long haul. And somehow prove to her that she was—was what?

  A thick ache started in Murphy’s chest, and he had to rub his eyes to keep them from blurring. He’d always let her know he had wanted her. But he now realized she needed far more than that—she needed to know that he needed her. Somehow he was going to have to make her see that she mattered to him. And then maybe she could learn to believe that she had no reason to run. He knew what had happened last time—that he had gotten too close and she had bolted. But things were different now. He was a whole lot wiser. And there was J.J. So all he had to do was get her to understand that they had something worth hanging on to.

  It should be so easy, but Murphy didn’t kid himself. She was like a wary, terrified animal that would shy away the instant anyone got too close. And he knew that trust wasn’t something that blossomed overnight. He had also let her play the game her way last time, and that had gotten him nowhere. But then, he’d been damned stupid in the past. Now that he knew her background, though, he could see he had made one very major mistake. Yeah, she’d walked, all right, but he had let her. That had been the stupidest thing he had ever done. But his wounded male ego had gotten in the way—which probably reinforced her wariness of people in general, and him in particular. With his bloody self-righteous attitude, he’d deserved to have her walk out on him.

  But where to go from here? He could see his own accountability for what had gone wrong in the past But he wasn’t sure what to do about it. Last time, he had toed her line and let her call the shots, and that left him out in the cold. Maybe this time he had to change his strategy. Maybe he needed to crowd her a little. Maybe lay down a line of his own.

  His cell phone rang, and he answered it.

  “Murphy Munroe.”

  His mother’s voice was rich with amusement. “I’m so glad you still know who you are.”

  Murphy gave a wry grin. “Don’t get cute, Ma. I’m a little cranky lately.”

  She chuckled, then spoke. “Is now a good time to talk, or are you busy?”

  “No. Now’s fine. What’s on your mind?”

  There was a brief hesitation, then he heard her take a breath. “Your dad and I are in a Labor Day golf tournament this weekend, so we’re planning on having the annual barbecue a week late this year. The whole family is coming over. So your dad and I thought it would be really nice if you brought Jordan and baby along. We’re all dying to see that son of yours.”

  Driving with one hand, Murphy let his gaze sweep over the countryside. He mulled it over for a minute, then answered, his tone quiet. “Let me run it by Jordan first.”

  “Do try to persuade her to come, Murphy. Both your dad and I think it’s important that she get to know the rest of the family.”

  His own tone was equally serious. “So do I, Mom.”

  Jordan was still out cold when they returned to the condo. She was on her bed, asleep on her side with her hands tucked under her face, her long, long lashes fanned out against her cheek. She looked so damned vulnerable and defenseless that Murphy’s throat cramped shut, a terrible sense of loss swarming up in him. Dragging up some inner reserve, he made himself disconnect from that kind of reaction.

  Watching her sleep, he continued to jiggle J.J. He did not want to wake her, but J.J. was sucking on both fists, and Murphy knew if he let her go any longer without a feeding, she was going to be in real agony.

  Tucking his son against his shoulder, he sat down in the curve of her legs, then gave her a gentle shake. “Jordan, honey,” he said softly. “You’re going to have to wake up. We’ve got a kid here who’s trying to eat his elbows.”

  She stirred and rolled over on her back, her eyes still closed. The front of the navy-blue T-shirt she had on—his navy-blue T-shirt—had two large damp spots on it, and he had to smile to himself. The old Miss Prim and Proper Jordan would have been appalled. A wisp of hair was stuck to her face and he lifted it off, the now-familiar achy feeling rising in his chest. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her look more beautiful than she did right then. J.J. let out an I’m-getting-really-ticked-off mewl, and Murphy gave her another light shake. “Sorry, babe, but it’s time to open those eyes.”

  Her eyes still closed, she wet her lips. “I can’t,” she said, her voice thick with sleep.

  The hint of orneriness in her tone made Murphy smile. He tightened his grip on his squirming son. “Do you want me to give him a bottle?”

  She sighed and dragged her hair back off her face with both hands. “No, I’ll be a mess if I don’t feed him.” Finally forcing her eyes open, she lay still for a moment, then struggled into a sitting position. Still clearly groggy, she stacked the pillows behind her, then reached for the baby. “Here,” she said, her voice still rusty. “Let me have him.”

  Normally Murphy did not hang around her bedroom—for obvious reasons—and normally he would have left at that point, but two things kept him there. One was his new strategy—to not give her the room he usually did. The second reason was that she was so out of it, he wasn’t entirely sure that she wouldn’t simply pass out and topple over in a coma.

  She didn’t even seem to notice that he’d moved into her territory. Her attention was focused on the baby, but once J.J. was nursing, she tipped her head back against the pillows and closed her eyes. “Lord,” she murmured thickly, “I feel as if I’ve been drugged.”

  Drawing one knee up on the bed, he braced his arm on the other side of her legs. A glimmer of humor tugged at his mouth. “Maybe you have.”

  She opened her eyes and checked the baby, then looked at Murphy, a woeful look in her eyes. “Do you suppose we’re ever going to catch up on our sleep, or are we going to be tired until he leaves home?”

  Grinning at her, Murphy met her gaze dead-on. “Well, I think we’d better be wide-awake and on our toes before he turns sixteen. Munroe kids don’t have a great record of staying out of trouble at that age.”

  She gave him a wry look. “I can’t tell you how glad I am you told me that.”

  Murphy studied her face, watching as she slowly caressed J.J.’s head. Then he steeled himself and broached the reason for his mother’s call. “Mom called me while we were out driving,” he said, trying to keep his tone offhand.

  She kept her gaze averted and focused on the baby, but
Murphy saw her retreat. “Oh?”

  Watching her like a hawk for any telltale signs, he continued. “My parents always have a big end-of-summer family barbecue. And they’ve planned it for next weekend.” He waited for a moment, then dropped it on her, still keeping it very casual. “She wants me to bring you and J.J.—they’re all getting pretty anxious to see this phantom kid.”

  Her sudden tension was so apparent, it was as if Murphy had plugged right into it. She didn’t speak for a moment, then finally answered, her tone artificially offhand. “I don’t really think it’s necessary for me to go. You can take J.J. on your own.”

  A week ago, her response would have ticked him off, but he could see the anxious flutter in the pulse point in her neck. Reaching out, Murphy hooked his knuckles under her chin and exerted pressure, forcing her to look at him His gaze was dead serious. “The invitation was to all of us, Jordan,” he said. “Mom thinks it’s important that you get to meet the rest of the family, and so do I.” Smoothing his thumb along her jaw to try to soften his approach, he gave her a lopsided smile. “And besides, I can’t leave you at home. You’re J.J.’s dinner.”

  She stared at him, the color gone from her face, her eyes wide with apprehension. And Murphy knew this invitation alarmed her like little else had. He tried to keep his tone even as he met her gaze. “I want you to come, Jordan. I want you to meet my family.”

  She held his gaze for a moment, then abruptly looked down, fussing with the collar on J.J.’s sleeper. She finally wet her lips and whispered. “I think your mother is just being polite.”