Her head came up and she met his gaze and said, “I’m your biological mother.”
The fact that she’d only mentioned herself meant he had another father than the one who’d raised him. “Who was he?”
“Does it really matter?” she asked plaintively.
“It does to me. Not his name, really, but the fact of his existence. Why didn’t you tell me?” The words seemed torn from his marrow.
“I wanted to, but…” She met his gaze with bleak eyes and whispered, “Your father didn’t know.”
Rye was appalled. “Dad didn’t know? How could he not know?”
She made a small movement with her shoulders that might have been a shrug but said nothing.
“What kind of man gets a woman pregnant and doesn’t marry her?” he ranted.
“A married man.”
Everything Rye believed about his Madonnalike mother was being shot to hell. “You had a sordid affair with a married man?”
“It wasn’t sordid,” she said quietly. “He loved me, and I loved him.”
“But he was married to someone else,” he said flatly.
She nodded without apology, her chin up, her eyes militant. “I never meant to hurt anyone. I gave up the love of my life and married your father, so you would never know how you were conceived.”
“What about Dad? Did you mind lying to him?” Rye was doing his best to control his anger, but the blood was rushing in his veins, and his body was so hot, it felt like he was on fire.
“I didn’t want anything to mar Paddy’s love for you. When I knew him better, I was sure I’d made the right decision. For both of you.”
It grieved Rye to admit she was right. His see-things-in-black-and-white father might always have held Rye’s birth against him. Or might never have married his mother in the first place. He clamped his jaw tight to keep from hurling accusations that wouldn’t change anything.
“Dad’s been dead for seven years,” he pointed out. “You could have told me the truth any time since then.”
“I could never find the right moment. And it just seemed…unnecessary.”
Unnecessary? Rye couldn’t help wondering what would have happened if she’d died before he’d found out the truth. “Who is he?” Rye demanded. “Is he still alive? I want to meet him.”
“He’s alive, but I don’t think meeting him is a good idea.”
“Why not? Is he still married?”
“His wife died in childbirth nearly thirty years ago. He has four sons, all grown. Your half brothers.”
“You know an awful lot about a man who’s supposedly a part of your past,” Rye said, his voice filled with sarcasm. “Does he know about Cody?”
“He’s seen pictures of the two of you together.”
“And Lexie?”
She nodded.
Rye felt exposed. Naked before a stranger. “How much have you told him?”
“Whatever I’ve shared with him he’ll keep to himself. He’s promised me that.”
“And you believe him?”
She gave a small shrug, glanced up at him, then back down at the hands clutched in her lap. “He loves me.”
Rye’s heart took an extra beat. It was clear now, if it hadn’t been before, that his mother was much more involved with this man from her youth than he’d imagined. He had a million questions. What he asked was, “Do I look like him?”
“You get your green eyes from both of us—my hazel and his blue. The chestnut hair is from my side of the family.”
“What else have I gotten from this father I never knew about until today?”
“A bad temper?” she said with the hint of a smile.
He pursed his lips.
“Stubbornness and pride,” she said archly, “along with very broad shoulders, and an extra inch or so of height.”
“Who is he?” Rye repeated.
“His name is Angus Ryan Flynn.”
“You named me after him?”
Her chin lifted another notch and she added the missing part of her previous revelation. “I loved him. I still do.”
“What about Dad?” he snarled. “Did you love him?”
“You know I did,” she said softly. “More than life.”
“Just not enough to tell him the truth.”
“It would only have hurt him. As it’s hurting you right now.”
She was right about that. Rye’s heart physically ached. “Did the sonofabitch who got you pregnant know about me before you married Dad?”
She nodded.
Rye winced. “He knew about me, and he just walked away?”
“I didn’t give him any choice. He was married and had three sons. I didn’t want to ruin so many lives. I told him how it was going to be. I was thinking about you when I married your father. I didn’t want you labeled a bastard—awful word, and so unfair.”
“And this Angus Flynn nobly kept his distance all these years?” Rye said scornfully.
She nodded. “It wasn’t easy for either of us, but yes, he did the honorable thing and stayed away.”
He had a sudden thought. “Have you been in touch with him recently?”
She lowered her eyes, which was all the answer he needed.
He muttered an obscenity. Through gritted teeth he said, “Where can I find him?”
“Angus has a ranch in Jackson Hole called the Lucky 7.”
MATT STOOD AT the back door of a one-story, wood-frame ranch house in the Hill Country, west of Austin, with Nathan by his side. His heart was pounding a mile a minute. He licked at the sweat that had beaded above his lip as he waited, hatless in the hot Texas sun, for Jennie to answer his knock.
His son gripped his hand a little tighter, peered up at him, and asked, “Are you sure Jennie wants to see us? She wouldn’t let us come visit her in the hospital. Not once.”
Matt realized Nathan must have overheard one of his frustrated phone conversations with Pippa. Reluctantly, his daughter had kept him informed about her mother’s condition, including the fact that Jennie had been moved home by ambulance this past week.
He met his son’s worried gaze and said, “If Jennie wants us to leave, we will.” But he was hoping she wouldn’t be able to turn him away. Or at least, be unable to turn Nathan away. His own welcome was a great deal more in doubt.
Matt was willing to use every means at his disposal, including an adorable seven-year-old boy, to get his foot through Jennie’s door. Once he was inside, he would find a way to stay and convince her to forgive his past transgressions. They’d already been cheated out of half a lifetime of loving each other. He didn’t want to lose any more time together.
When his knock wasn’t answered, Nathan said, “There’s nobody home, Daddy.”
Except, he knew Jennie had to be there. According to her ranch foreman, she was alone in the house and hadn’t set foot outside since she’d arrived two days ago. The man knew Matt and Jennie had a daughter together and hadn’t questioned Matt’s concern about Jennie’s well-being.
Matt turned the knob, and the kitchen door opened. Despite the West’s vaunted “range hospitality,” which offered respite and a cup of coffee to any stranger who showed up at the door, he was surprised to find it unlocked. Jennie was a public figure—she’d held her late husband’s Senate seat until she’d given it up for health reasons—and sometimes crazy people did crazy things. He stepped inside, surprised at how hot and stuffy the house felt. He called out, “Jennie?”
He felt a chill of alarm when his call wasn’t answered. It was eleven in the morning. She should be awake, and two weeks post-surgery, she should be up and around.
“Jennie?” he called again.
“I told you, Daddy. She’s not home.”
Matt didn’t answer his son, simply headed through the kitchen to the
living room, which was dusty and smelled stale, and then down the central hallway, checking each open doorway, looking for Jennie. He found her in the last room at the end.
Her bedroom was dark, the curtains closed. It smelled like a sickroom. Jennie was huddled under the covers with only her head showing. Covers? In this stifling house?
He turned to Nathan, who’d trotted down the hall behind him, and said, “Go back to the kitchen, and get Jennie a glass of water.”
Nathan never questioned the order, merely turned and headed out of the room. Matt wanted privacy to discover what was wrong with Jennie. He gently touched her on the shoulder.
Instead of turning over, she moaned.
Matt’s heart was in his throat. That couldn’t be good. He’d read enough about double mastectomies to know Jennie was in pain, since she had tubes in her chest to drain fluid, which wouldn’t come out for another week. The tightness in her chest, similar to an overinflated balloon, made it difficult to breathe or move her arms. Why the hell hadn’t she arranged to have a nurse come take care of her?
Well, he was here now, and he’d be damned if she was going to get rid of him. He tenderly brushed his fingertips across her brow to test for fever. Her flesh was warm but not hot.
“Foolish girl,” he whispered. “You can’t do everything all by yourself. You need help once in a while, whether you want to admit it or not.”
Jennie’s independence was one of the things he’d admired most about her, but she was going to have to give up a little of it to let him into her life. She moved restlessly but didn’t open her eyes. He debated whether to call a doctor but decided to wait and see how she felt when she woke up.
Meanwhile, he was going to let in some light and fresh air. He crossed to the window, shoved back the curtains, and raised the window. A breeze immediately flowed into the room. He headed down the hall in search of the control for the air conditioner. When he found it, he turned it down ten degrees. By then, Nathan was on his way back down the hall with a coffee cup filled almost to the brim with water. His limp was more pronounced, because he was being so careful.
“I found this cup on the counter,” he said. “It was dirty, but I rinsed it out real good.”
“Thanks, Nate,” Matt said as he took the cup from his son. “Let’s see if we can get Jennie to take a drink.”
“Are you sure you want to wake her up?” Nathan asked, eyeing Jennie dubiously.
Matt grinned at his son. “Not really. But nothing ventured, nothing gained.”
Nathan tilted his head like a quizzical bird.
Matt didn’t wait for his son to figure out what he’d said, simply sat beside Jennie and gently lifted her into an upright position. She grunted with pain as her eyes fluttered open. “Matt?”
“Rise and shine,” Matt said, smiling at her.
She looked confused as she glanced from him to Nathan and back again. “What’s going on?”
Her voice sounded rough, and Matt used that as an excuse to offer her the cup of water. “You must be thirsty.”
She looked at the cup he held out to her and admitted, “I am.” She started to lift her arms to take it from him, but winced and hissed in a breath.
“I’ll hold it for you,” he said, bringing the cup to her lips.
She drank thirstily. When she was done, she said, “I needed that. Thanks.”
Nathan puffed out his chest and said, “I got it for you. I rinsed out the cup all by myself.”
“Thank you, Nate.” She focused her gaze on Matt and asked, “What are you doing here?”
“Taking care of an idiot?”
Jennie pursed her lips and shook her head. “I suppose I must seem like one, coming here without arranging for a nurse. Now that I see I need one, I’ll call—”
“Don’t,” Matt interrupted. “Let us help. Nate and I make a pretty good team. And we want to help, don’t we, Nate?”
Nathan plopped his rump on the opposite side of the bed and said, “I can tell you stories. And Daddy can make you breakfast. Are you hungry?”
It took Jennie a moment to answer. “I believe I am.”
“When was the last time you ate?” Matt asked.
“I’m not sure.”
“What would you like me to cook?”
“You can cook?”
“Not as good as Pippa,” Nathan interjected.
“Thanks a lot for the vote of confidence, pal,” Matt said, pretending to be insulted.
“Daddy cooks pretty good eggs,” Nathan conceded. “But sometimes he breaks the yolk.”
Jennie laughed and then grabbed her ribs. “Oh, don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”
“Come on, little man,” Matt said. “Let’s go make Jennie some breakfast while she gets dressed.”
He saw the surprise on Jennie’s face at his suggestion she should get up and put on some clothes. He knew the sooner she was up and around after her surgery, the better. He wasn’t sure how much of her retreat to a dark room was because of the physical pain she was in, and how much might be mourning the loss of her breasts, but he intended to minister to both ills with heavy doses of love.
IF SHE’D FELT better, Jennie might have kicked Matt out the door that first day, but she was helpless to resist Nathan’s boundless enthusiasm. She noticed Matt kept his distance over the next week while her body healed, letting Nathan win her heart, while he wore his own on his sleeve. She didn’t want to forgive Matt. She’d lost a lifetime with her daughter. She’d also lost a lifetime with him. It was too late for them. Wasn’t it?
She finished the bedtime story she was reading to Nathan and pulled the covers up under his arms. Then she did something she hadn’t done before. She brushed the dark hair away from his forehead, leaned over, and kissed him there.
When she started to rise, Nathan caught her arm and held her in place. “Sometimes Pippa kisses me, but she grabs my ears and plants one on my nose. I like the way you do it better.”
“Thank you, Nate.” She stood and shot a glance at Matt, who was leaning against the bedroom doorway with his hip cocked, looking more handsome—and less self-assured—than he had at sixteen. “What about the way your daddy does it?”
Matt crossed the room and sat beside his son. First, he ruffled Nathan’s hair, which caused the boy to giggle. Then he kissed two fingers and placed them solemnly against Nathan’s lips. In return, Nathan kissed two fingers of his own and placed them against his father’s lips. Finally, they grinned at each other.
Nathan looked up at her and said, “It’s the very best.”
Matt rose, turned out the lamp beside the bed, and said, “See you in the morning, son.”
“See you in the morning, Daddy.”
Jennie felt a frisson of feeling scoot up her spine when Matt’s hand touched the small of her back, ushering her from the room. As soon as Matt closed the bedroom door, she turned to him and said brusquely, “We need to talk.”
She saw his shoulders tense, which told her how much he’d been fearing this conversation. She knew he’d been on tenterhooks since he’d arrived, wondering when she was going to send him away. He believed that moment had arrived.
The drainage tubes had been removed from her chest today, and she was well on her way to recovery. She would be starting another round of chemo soon. There was no good reason for Matt to stay any longer. She didn’t need to be waited on hand and foot and have her every desire fulfilled before she could even speak it aloud. She had to admit, she’d loved feeling like a princess in a fairy tale. But that wasn’t reality. It was a fantasy a grown woman knew better than to believe in.
Jennie settled herself on the comfortable leather couch, expecting Matt to sit in the chair across from her. Instead, he lowered himself onto the other end of the couch like he was perching on a cactus.
“It was a dirty trick to show
up here with Nate,” she began.
“When you fight a war, you use the best ammunition you can find.”
“He’s quite a bombshell,” she said with a smile.
“I love you.”
Jennie was taken off-guard by the statement, which had come, once again, out of the blue. “I’m sure you used to love me,” she replied in a quiet voice. “We were just kids, Matt. A lot of years have passed since then. You don’t know the person I’ve become.”
“I know enough,” he argued. “I’ve never stopped loving you, Jennie. All these years, there’s been a hole inside me that no other woman could fill.”
“Which explains your two wives,” she said sardonically.
“And two divorces,” he reminded her. “Every time I looked at our daughter, I regretted being forced to leave you behind.”
“Forced?”
“You were only fifteen, Jennie. How could I have gotten you out of the country?”
He was right, of course. The blame she’d been heaping on him really belonged on her parents’ shoulders. They were the ones who’d lied and told her Pippa had died at birth. They were the ones who’d kept her apart from Matt. She’d left them the instant she was old enough and come to live at this ranch with her grandmother. She’d never reconciled with her parents before they’d died, something she’d realized too late was yet another mistake.
It seemed like her life was full of them. Was this going to be one more? Should she let Matt stay? Or send him away? Which was liable to bring her the most happiness? Or the least pain?
“I’ve never forgotten how good we were together,” Matt said. “I’ve never stopped wanting you.”
Jennie sighed. “It wouldn’t work, Matt.”
“Why not?”
She shrugged, then winced, because she wasn’t healed enough for any gesture that involved sudden moves with her upper body.
“Are you all right?” he asked, his eyes anxious.
“I’m fine.” Just hurting because I regret what we lost and don’t believe we can ever have again.
She hadn’t realized her hands were curled white-knuckle tight until Matt scooted over and separated them, so he could hold them in his own. The earnest look in his blue eyes was enough to make her weep. Her throat ached. She felt the tears coming and blinked them back. She wasn’t going to cry over him. She’d done enough of that as a young girl who’d lost both the boy she loved and the child she’d carried.
Sullivan's Promise Page 15