Читать книгу The Child Who Rescued Christmas - Jessica Matthews, Jessica Matthews - Страница 9

“WHAT do you say you run away with me this weekend?” Sebastian Lancaster asked Sara two days later as she straightened his bedsheets during her last patient round before her shift-change report. “I know this great little place for dancing. I could show you a few steps that will make your head spin.”

Sara smiled at her eighty-five-year-old patient who relied on a walker and wheezed with every breath, thanks to his years of habitual smoking. No doubt the only head that would spin with any sudden move would be his.

“No can do,” she said cheerfully, already anticipating her upcoming weekend away from the daily grind of hospitals, patients and housework. “I already have plans.”

“No problem.” He coughed. “What is it they say? Plans are made to be broken.”

“I think you’re referring to rules, not plans,” she corrected.

He waved a wrinkled, age-spotted hand. “Same difference. It’s been ages since I’ve tangoed and if I’m not mistaken, you’d be good at it. Got the legs for it.”

Knowing the elderly gentleman couldn’t see past his elbow, she let his comment about her legs slide. “I’ll bet you were quite the Fred Astaire in your day,” she commented, giving the top blanket a final pat.

“Oh, I was. My wife and I could have outshone these young whippersnappers on those celebrity dance shows. So whaddya say? Wanna spring me from this joint so we can take a spin?”

She laughed at his suitably hopeful expression, although they both knew she couldn’t fulfill his request. Between his emphysema and current bout of pneumonia, he was struggling to handle basic activities, much less add a strenuous activity like dancing. However, his physical limitations didn’t stop this perpetual flirt from practicing his pickup lines. Sara guessed his wife must have been adept at keeping his behavior in check, or else she’d turned a blind eye to his Romeo attitude.

“Sorry, but I’m already running away this weekend,” she told him, glancing at the drip rate of his IV. “With my husband, who just happens to be your doctor.”

He nodded matter-of-factly, as if not particularly disappointed by his failure. “Shoulda known. The pretty ones are always taken. Must say, though …” he stopped to cough “… that if Doc had the good sense to pick you out of the eligible women, then he’s got a good head on his shoulders.”

“I like to think so,” she said lightly, aware that her relationship with Cole had endured some dark days. However, in spite of the usual differences of opinion between people of diverse backgrounds and ideas, in spite of his initial reluctance to commit and in spite of her miscarriage nine months ago, life had been good.

“You two just going away for nothing better to do or for something special?”

“It’s our three-year anniversary,” she replied. “Actually, we still have a few weeks before the actual date, but this was the only weekend we could both get away.”

“Ah, then you’re still newlyweds. I’ll bet you’re eager to have your second honeymoon, even if it wasn’t that long ago since your first, eh?” He cackled at his joke before ending on a cough.

Sara smiled. “It’s always great to get away, honeymoon or not.”

She’d been looking forward to this weekend for a month now and could hardly wait. Cole, on the other hand, had been preoccupied the last few days, which had been somewhat surprising because he’d been as eager to stay in the haunted historic hotel as she was.

“Too much to do before I can leave with an easy conscience,” he’d said when she’d asked.

While that was probably true—as a hospitalist, he’d put in long hours to ensure the doctors covering his patients would find everything in order while he was gone—she had to wonder if something else wasn’t on his mind. Still, she was confident that once they shook the dust of Nolan Heights off their feet, he’d leave those worries behind. And if distance didn’t help, then the skimpy black lace negligee in her suitcase would.

“Well, go and have a good time,” Sebastian said. “If he takes you dancing, dance a slow one for me.” He winked one rheumy brown eye.

“I will,” she promised. “When I come back to work on Monday, if you’re still here, I’ll tell you all about it.”

“Do that,” he said before he closed his eyes, clearly spent from their short conversation.

Sara strode out of the room, her soft soles silent on the linoleum. She’d begun to chart her final notes for her patients when another nurse, Millie Brennan, joined her.

“How’s Mr. Lancaster this afternoon?”

Sara smiled at the twenty-six-year-old, somewhat jealous of her strawberry blond tresses when her own short hair was unremarkably brown. The only plus was that Sara’s curls were natural whereas Millie’s came from a bottle.

“As sassy as ever. Given his medical condition, it’s amazing how he can still flirt with us.”

“Wait until he feels better,” Millie said darkly. “Then he’ll grab and pinch. When he does, it’s a sign he’s ready to go back to his assisted living home.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Sara said.

“So,” Millie said in an obvious prelude to a change of subject, “are you packed and ready to go tomorrow?”

Sara smiled. “Almost. I just have to throw a few last-minute things into my bag and I’m ready. Cole, on the other hand, hasn’t started. I’m going to work on his suitcase as soon as I get home.”

Millie grinned. “Don’t forget to pack a swimsuit. And that teddy we bought a few weeks ago.”

“Those were the first things in the case,” Sara answered, already looking forward to modeling the lacy negligee under her husband’s admiring gaze. While most people thought they were going to enjoy ski slopes and mountain hikes, Sara had planned a far more private itinerary—an itinerary that focused only on the two of them.

“When are you leaving?” Millie asked.

“Our flight leaves early tomorrow morning. We’d thought about staying the night at one of the airport hotels, but it depends on Cole. You know how he is.” Sara added, “He can’t leave if he doesn’t have every i dotted when it comes to his patients.” She was convinced that was why everyone thought so highly of her husband—he didn’t cut corners for convenience’s sake.

She sighed. “Sometimes, his attention to detail is rather frustrating, especially when it interferes with our plans.”

“Yeah, but you love him anyway.”

Sara had half fallen in love with him the first day she’d met him, when he’d waltzed onto her floor as a first-year family medicine resident. She’d been suffering her own new-job jitters and he’d taken pity on her when she’d knocked a suture tray off the counter in obvious nervousness. The cup of coffee he’d subsequently bought her and the pep talk he’d delivered had marked the beginning of their professional and personal relationship.

“Yeah, I do,” she said, returning Millie’s grin with one of her own. “The only problem I have right now is knowing what to get him for Christmas. It’s still two months away, but it’ll be here before we know it.”

“Has he mentioned anything that he wants?”

“Lots of things, but afterward he goes out and buys them for himself. I’ve told him not to do that, but so far it hasn’t made an impression.”

“It will when he wakes up on Christmas morning and there’s nothing to open under the tree,” Millie predicted. “Or you could just fill a box with socks and underwear.”

“I could,” Sara agreed, “but I couldn’t be that cruel. I’m sure I’ll get an idea this weekend.”

“Well, good luck. As my mother always says, what do you get a man who has everything?”

What indeed? Sara thought. The one thing she’d wanted to give him—news that he’d be a father—wasn’t something she could accomplish on her own, no matter how hard she wished for her dream to come true. Having grown up with a sister and two brothers, she wanted her house to ring with the same pitter-patter of footsteps as her parents’ house had.

Be patient, Cole had reminded her. She’d try, she told herself. So what if it took them a little longer for their family to grow than she’d like? As long as it happened, as long as they loved each other, it would be worth the wait.

Fortunately, for the rest of her shift, she had little time to dwell on her personal plans, but the minute she left the hospital shortly after six o’clock, her thoughts raced ahead to her upcoming weekend.

Her excitement only grew when she found the lights blazing in their home and Cole’s SUV parked in the garage. Pleased that Cole had finished earlier than she’d expected, she dashed through the cold garage and into her cozy house.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” she called out to Cole from the mud room as she tugged off her gloves and hung her parka on a coat hook. “I honestly didn’t think you’d make it home before eight.”

He rose from his place at the table as she entered the kitchen and kissed her on the cheek. “Things turned out differently than we’d both anticipated,” he answered with a tight smile that, with his strained expression, set off her mental radar. “How about some coffee?”

He turned away to dump several sweetener packets into his own mug. “You never drink caffeine at this time of night,” she said as she watched his movements with a knot forming in her stomach. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s cold outside. How about hot tea instead?”

He was trying to distract her, which only meant that something was wrong. Horribly wrong. The knot tightened.

“Cole,” she warned. “I know it’s cold, but I’m not thirsty or hungry. Something is obviously on your mind. What is it?” As a thought occurred to her, she gasped. “Oh, no. We can’t go on our trip, can we? Something happened and Chris can’t cover for you at the hospital. Oh, Cole,” she finished on a wail. “Not again!”

“Sara,” he interrupted. “Stop jumping to conclusions. This isn’t about my schedule. Just. Sit. Down.”

She sat. With her hands clasped together in her lap, she waited. He sank onto the chair beside hers and carefully set his mug on the table. “An attorney spoke with me today.”

Dread skittered down her spine. A lawyer never visited a physician with good news. “Is someone suing the hospital? And you?”

“No, nothing like that. Mr. Maitland is a partner in a law firm based in Tulsa.”

“Tulsa?” Knowing he’d grown up in that area of Oklahoma, she asked, “Does this involve your relatives?”

“No.”

“Then what did he want with you?”

“Do you remember reading the newspaper article about the medical helicopter crash the other day?”

“Yes. We’d talked about one of the nurses. I can’t remember her name …”

“Ruth Warren,” he supplied.

“Yeah. What about the crash?”

“As it turns out, I did know this particular Ruth Warren. Quite well, in fact.”

His shock was understandable. She reached out to grab his hand, somewhat surprised by his cold fingers. “I’m sorry.”

“In high school, we were good friends, although I’ve only seen her once since then. At our class reunion a few years ago.”

She furrowed her brow in thought. “You never mentioned a class reunion. When was this?”

“Remember those ten days in July, after you and I had broken up?”

“Yes,” she said cautiously.

“During that time, I went to my class reunion. It was over the Fourth of July weekend, and I didn’t have anything else to do, so I went.”

“Really? Knowing how you’ve avoided going back to the area so you can’t accidentally run into your relatives, I’m surprised.”

“Yeah, well, it was a spur-of-the-moment decision,” he said wryly. “Anyway, during that weekend, I met up with Ruth.”

She touched his hand. “I’m glad you had a chance to reconnect with her after high school. Had you heard from her since then?”

“No. Not a word.”

Sara had assumed as much because Cole had never mentioned her, but he was a closemouthed individual and often didn’t mention those things he considered insignificant.

“Then what did the lawyer want?”

“He represents Ruth’s estate. She named me, us, in her will.”

Sara sat back in her chair, surprised. “She did? What did she do? Leave you her box of high school memorabilia?”

She’d expected her joke to make him smile, but it fell flat, which struck her as odd.

“She left us something more valuable than a box of dried corsages and school programs,” he said evenly. “She entrusted the most important thing she had to us. Her son.”

“Her son?” Of all the things he might have said, nothing was as shocking as this. “How old is he?”

“He’s two and a half. His birthday was in April. April 2.”

Surprise and shock gave way to excitement. “Oh, Cole,” she said, reaching across the table to once again take his hand, her heart twisting at the thought of that motherless little boy. “He’s practically a baby.”

As she pondered the situation, she began to wonder why this woman had chosen them out of all the people she possibly could have known.

“Exactly why did she appoint us as his guardians? She never met me and you said yourself that you hadn’t kept in contact with her. What about the boy’s dad? Or her family? Didn’t she have friends who were closer to her than you are? I’m not complaining, mind you. I’m only trying to understand why she gave him to people who are, for all intents and purposes, relative strangers, instead of choosing substitute parents who were within her current circle of friends.”

“She had no family to speak of,” he told her. “Ruth grew up in foster care and as soon as she graduated, she was on her own.”

“If you hadn’t seen her for three years, it’s especially odd she’d ask us to take care of him. There has to be a connection—”

“There is,” he said, clutching his mug with both hands. “But to explain it, I have something to confess.”

Once again, warning bells clanged. “Okay,” she said slowly.

“Ruth and I—that weekend we were together at the reunion …” he drew a deep breath as if bracing himself “… I did a stupid thing. Several stupid things, in fact. I was angry that you weren’t satisfied with our relationship as it was—”

“Just living together,” she interjected for clarification.

He nodded. “I was hurt that after all those years of being a couple, you wouldn’t be satisfied or happy until I put a ring on your finger.”

“Oh, Cole,” she said, disappointed that he hadn’t fully understood why she’d pressed him to take their relationship to the next level. “It wasn’t about flashing a gold band or a huge diamond. It was what the ring represented—a commitment to spend the rest of our lives together.”

“I realized that. Later. But during that first week we were apart, while I was angry and hurt and feeling everything in between, I went to my reunion and …” he took another deep breath “… drank a few too many margaritas. A lot too many.” He paused.

She was surprised to learn that Cole—a man who couldn’t even be classified as a moderate drinker—had over-imbibed. While she wasn’t condoning his action, she figured most people had done so at one time or another. His actions weren’t smart or ideal, but drinking too much on one occasion wasn’t an unforgivable offense, in her opinion, even if at the time he’d been old enough to know better.

“And?” she coaxed.

“When I saw Ruth again—we confided a lot in each other during our teen years—we talked. We both unloaded on each other and she helped me admit a few hard truths—”

“Do you mean to say that your friend Ruth convinced you to propose?” She’d always believed that he’d come to that conclusion on his own. It was disappointing to imagine that he’d been persuaded to marry her not because he loved her but because of a relative stranger’s advice.

“Ruth didn’t convince me to do anything,” he insisted. “She pointed out what I already knew but couldn’t quite admit—that I loved you and couldn’t imagine my life without you—which was why I was so angry and hurt and miserable. And if I loved you, then I had to face my fears and propose.”

Fears? He’d been afraid?

“Wait a minute.” She held up her hands to forestall him so she could sort through his confession. “You’d always said that you wouldn’t marry until you were ready, but now I learn that you were scared? Why didn’t you explain? We could have discussed this.”

“If you’ll recall, we’d tried, but the conversation deteriorated and you walked out.”

She wanted to protest that he could have stopped her, or that he could have called, or he could have done any number of things, but placing blame at this date was silly.

“Okay,” she said evenly, “both of us could have done things differently, but truly, Cole, what were you afraid of?”

“That I couldn’t be the husband you wanted or needed. That our relationship would change. We were doing great just living together and I had this … this fear … that marriage might ruin what we had.”

“How was that possible?” she asked, incredulous. “We’d been living together for two years and dated for a year prior to that. How did you think marriage would ruin—?”

“You forget that the last functional family relationship I was in ended when I was eight. What did I know about how a healthy marriage should be? By the time I started college, I didn’t know if the happy home I remembered was real or make-believe. Do you really wonder why I might be afraid our relationship would change, and not for the better? And when it did, both of us would be stuck in an untenable situation.”

She fell silent as she processed the information. “Okay, I can respect that, but you obviously faced your fears because you found me at my friend’s house and proposed.” It bothered her to think that he could discuss his fears with a woman he hadn’t seen in years instead of with her, but there was little she could do about it now. She only hoped he wouldn’t tell her that at the time asking her to marry him had simply been the lesser of two evils.

“Proposing—marrying you—was the best decision I ever made. Don’t ever forget that.”

His vehemence both surprised and alarmed her. “Okay,” she said warily. “But meanwhile you had your heart-to-heart with Ruth and because you two drowned your sorrows together, she wanted you to raise her child if something happened to her.”

He visibly winced and avoided her gaze. “Unfortunately, we did more than talk and drown our sorrows.”

The bottom dropped out of her stomach. “Oh, Cole. Please don’t tell me that you—That you and this high school friend …”

He nodded, his expression grave. “We slept together. We didn’t plan it, I swear. I didn’t even know she was going to be at the reunion. The combination of everything from my insecurities and alcohol level to Ruth needing her own listening ear all coalesced until events just … happened. I’ve never done anything like that before or since and I regretted it right away. You have to believe me.”

A part of her brain heard his near-desperation, but she was still too numbed by his newest revelation to grant him absolution.

“You should have told me,” she said as her whole body seemed to turn into ice. “We should have had this conversation as soon as you rolled back into town. About your doubts and your … and Ruth.”

“I couldn’t,” he admitted. “I was too embarrassed and ashamed. I didn’t go to my reunion intending to do anything but meet with old friends. After my lapse in judgment—” his voice was rueful “—I knew this news would be devastating and even though we technically weren’t a couple at the time it happened, I couldn’t risk my mistake potentially destroying our future.”

Would she have refused to marry him if she’d known he’d slept with another woman? Knowing how devastated she’d been at the time he’d stormed out after their argument, hearing that would have probably convinced her to count her blessings that he’d walked away.

At this point, however, she didn’t know for certain what she might have done. She might only have extended their engagement until she’d been fully persuaded that he hadn’t entertained second thoughts about marriage, but one truth remained undeniable. He’d taken away her opportunity to choose.

“I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am,” he added. “If I could turn back the clock and live that night over, I would.”

His remorse seemed genuine, but it did little to ease her sense of betrayal. “Sorry that it happened or sorry that you told me?”

He didn’t have to explain, her little voice pointed out. He could have simply let the story stand that they were old friends who’d reconnected during a class reunion. You’d still never know …

“There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t feel regret for my actions,” he said, meeting her gaze. “That’s something I have to live with for the rest of my life.”

The pain in his eyes wasn’t feigned; she recognized that. Unfortunately, his revelation made her question so many things. Had he really wanted to marry her, or had he only asked her because he’d found his courage in the bottom of a bottle?

How many other secrets had he kept from her? He probably had many, because there were so many personal topics he refused to discuss.

And yet, technically, they had severed their relationship, which meant he hadn’t been required to answer to her. No vows had been broken at the time he and Ruth …

But it still hurt to know that he’d fallen into bed with another woman so quickly. Granted, the alcohol and his own anger had contributed to his decision, but still …

Although the truth weighed heavily, she had to give credit where it was due. He’d been a faithful husband for the past three years and he’d been honest when he could have kept this secret forever and no one would have ever known. Yet he’d taken the risk and apologized profusely rather than simply brush off the incident.

Emotionally, she wanted to bristle and remain angry, but logically the incident was over and done with. Walking away from him because of one relatively ancient mistake committed when they’d been separated suggested her love must be terribly shallow if she couldn’t forgive and forget.

“Sara?” he asked tentatively.

She exhaled a long, drawn-out sigh and offered a tremulous smile. “As disappointed as I am, as betrayed as I feel, even though some would say I shouldn’t, I can’t change the past. We’ll leave it there, shall we?”

“Unfortunately, there’s more,” he said.

“More?” she asked, incredulous. “What more can there be? Isn’t this friendship you had—” she chose that word instead of “affair” because she didn’t know if a one-night stand fit the true definition “—the reason why she wanted you to look after her child?”

He didn’t answer at first. “Sara,” he said softly, “Brody is thirty months old. His second birthday came during the first part of April.”

“Yes, you already told me.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Do the math.”

She did. Then, with a sinking heart, she knew. The apology on his face confirmed it.

“Oh. My. God. He’s your son, too.”

If Sara’s face had revealed her shock before, now Cole only saw horror. From her sudden intake of breath, the oxygen in the room had vanished with the news, just as it had when Parker Maitland had delivered the same bombshell to him a few hours ago. This news had knocked his world off its axis, just as it had for his wife.

Eternity had only lasted forty-eight hours.

An unholy dread had filled him from that moment on because he would have to explain the inexplicable to Sara. His confession had crushed her, just as he’d suspected it would, and, just as he’d feared, the light in her eyes had faded. Already she stared at him as if he’d become someone she didn’t know.

How ironic to be in this position. After spending his entire life always weighing his options and plotting his course carefully to avoid potential pitfalls, the one time he’d acted impulsively would haunt him for ever.

Oh, he could have ended this earlier without Sara ever being the wiser. He could have told the lawyer that he didn’t want to raise Ruth’s son—and his—and all this would have vanished like morning mist on a hot summer day. Yet he couldn’t build one lie upon another, no matter how enticing the idea was. Untruths always had a tendency to be revealed.

“You had a baby with this Ruth person.”

She sounded dazed, much as he had when he’d heard the news. “Apparently so.”

“Are you certain? I mean, if she slept with you at your reunion, she might have spent time with someone else, too.”

Her faith in him was bittersweet and only made him feel worse than he already did. He, too, had posed the question, hoping there’d been some misunderstanding, but the possibility had died an instant death after Maitland had presented him with undeniable proof.

“She didn’t,” he assured her, hating to destroy her hopes but understanding how the possibility was a lifeline for her to grab—a lifeline that their life wouldn’t be turned upside down so easily. “Maitland gave me a picture of the boy. There’s a strong … family resemblance.”

It was more than a resemblance. The phrase “chip off the old block” came to mind. If he compared photos of himself at that age, he’d think his image had been cut and pasted into a scene from today.

“And she wants you to look after her—your—child.”

From past experience, Cole knew that Sara’s reserved tone was merely a smoke screen, especially given the words she’d chosen. Her. Your child. Underneath her deadly calm was a churning cauldron of emotions held in check by sheer force of will. Cole would have rather seen her yell, scream or throw things, instead of seeing her so controlled.

“She wants us to look after him,” he corrected. “She wanted Brody to have two parents, not one.”

As she sat frozen, Cole hastened to continue. “Apparently, Ruth knew the situation would be … difficult … which was why she left a letter for you to read.”

He dug in the manila envelope Maitland had given him and placed the small sealed white envelope that bore Sara’s name in front of her. Next to it, he positioned Brody’s photograph so that those impish dark brown eyes were facing her.

Sara didn’t move to accept the envelope or glance at the picture.

“Ruth rightly believed you would play an important role in Brody’s upbringing, which is why she stipulated that you also had to agree to take him.”

“And if I don’t?”

He paused, torn between wanting her to refuse and hoping she’d accept the challenge ahead of them. “Then the search will begin for different parents,” he said evenly. “According to Maitland, Ruth hoped that wouldn’t happen.

He and his wife, Eloise, were Ruth’s neighbors and they knew how much she worried about Brody going into the same foster-care system she had.”

“If they knew Ruth so well, why didn’t she appoint them as his substitute parents?”

“Parker is sixty-nine and Eloise is sixty-seven. As much as they love Brody, it isn’t feasible for them to parent a child at their age.” Parker had told him that he and Ruth had discussed this scenario and they’d both agreed that Brody needed younger parents who would conceivably give him siblings as well as live long enough to see him through high school and college.

“Where is he now?”

“He’s with Maitland and his wife at a hotel.” He paused. “Parker invited us to stop by at our convenience tonight. However, he did mention that Brody usually goes to bed at eight and with all the commotion of the past few days, he’s been a little cranky if he stays up later than that.”

The silence in the room became deafening and Cole watched helplessly as Sara rubbed her forehead with a shaky hand. “I don’t know what to say,” she murmured. “I’m tempted to believe I’m dreaming, that this is just an elaborate hoax or a misunderstanding.”

“I know how you feel, but this …” he fingered the photo “… proves otherwise.”

He stared at the snapshot lying on the table, picking out the facial features that seemed to be carbon copies of his own—coal-black hair, dimples, a straight nose and lopsided grin. Yet, even with the proof before him, he was still hardly able to accept that he had a son.

A son.

While he’d been willing to add to their family—someday in the future—knowing he had a son now was mind-boggling. It was one thing to feel guilty about his one-night stand, but quite another to know a child had resulted. He didn’t know if he felt happy or sad, disappointed or excited, but he’d sort through those emotions later. At this moment, the reality had to be addressed, which was, namely, would they accept Brody into their home, or would Brody enter the same state-run children’s services that Ruth had loathed?

He simply couldn’t go against Ruth’s wishes, but her way was filled with pitfalls. Having grown up in a situation where he hadn’t been wanted, he’d always vowed to keep some sort of “escape clause” in his relationships, which was why he’d had so much trouble making a commitment to Sara. But now, if he accepted Ruth’s child, his son, there would be no escape. If he intended to do this, he had to do so with the intent of being in it for the long haul.

This, at least, was the same decision he’d made before he’d proposed. And that had worked out, hadn’t it? he told himself.

Or, it had, until he’d lost all common sense on that long-ago night.

He wanted to scream at the fates for putting him in this position, but what was done was done. There was only one way to escape this time, but as he glanced at Brody’s photo, the idea didn’t appeal as much as it might have. After all, if he’d been willing to face his fears and have a baby with Sara, how was this any different?

There was a big difference, he thought tiredly. Sara was his wife and she’d stand beside him, helping him, guiding him along the right path, correcting his mistakes. Now the question was, would she stay with him or not? Would he lose his son and his wife?

He studied her, wishing she’d say or do something rather than remain locked in icy calm. If only they had time to come to terms with the situation and what it meant to them as a couple, but time was a luxury they didn’t have.

“Sara?” he asked tentatively. “We have to make a decision.”

“Right now?” She sounded horrified.

“Maybe not this instant,” he conceded, “but definitely within the next twenty-four hours. Brody’s future has to be settled, one way or another. Keeping him in limbo isn’t in his best interests.”

He’d wondered if the prospect of having the baby she’d wanted would overshadow its origins, but she clearly hadn’t reached that level of acceptance yet. He understood. He was still stunned and he’d felt the bombshell several hours earlier.

She nodded, almost absentmindedly.

Thinking that Sara would benefit from seeing Ruth’s wishes in black and white, he pulled a copy of the will out of the manila envelope and flipped to the pages in question.

“Ruth had arranged for all of her assets to be placed into a trust fund for Brody and she named us as the trustees. She didn’t want finances to factor in to our decision, so she left a modest nest egg for his care.”

Not that he intended to tap into it if they chose to raise him. After all, Brody was his son, and his responsibility.

“There are a few personal things she asked that we keep for him, heirlooms if you will. Everything else will be sold.”

“I see.”

“She also asked that we legally adopt him so he carries our surname rather than hers.”

“She thought of everything, didn’t she?” she said wryly.

“I’m sure she and her legal counsel tried to cover every contingency.”

“Did she have a plan if we decided not to raise her child?”

Cole’s cautious optimism fell as Sara asked this same question for a second time, as if she wanted to be sure she had other options.

“As I said earlier, Ruth had hoped you wouldn’t make that choice.”

“Did she make a plan B?” Sara pressed on, as if through gritted teeth.

Cole sighed. “She did. Brody will become a ward of the state and will be eligible for adoption by another couple.”

In that instant, he knew he was facing an untenable situation. Ruth had guessed correctly that he wouldn’t be able to easily give up his son, but if Sara wasn’t in favor of keeping him, he’d be forced to choose between his wife and a boy he’d just learned was his. Neither was a palatable option.

Still, he wanted to think positive …

She frowned. “Wouldn’t you have to relinquish your rights if you’re his father?”

He’d wondered if she would have realized that. While everything within him fought that idea, the letter Ruth had left for his eyes only had requested him to do just that if Sara wouldn’t agree to her terms.

I know how difficult this would be for you, Ruth had written, but you know far better than I how much harder Brody’s life would be to live in a home where one parental figure didn’t want him …

He might not want to sign those documents, and his decision would haunt him if he did, but he’d do it, for Brody’s sake. “Yes,” he said simply, hating the mere notion of it.

“I would.”

And he’d regret it for the rest of his life. She paused. The wrinkle between her eyebrows suggested she was weighing her options. “And if we take him?” she finally asked. “What then?”

A spark of optimism flared. “Then, starting tomorrow, he’ll spend time with us. The Maitlands will stay in town for a few days to ease his transition but they can’t stay longer because they have family commitments of their own.”

“That’s it? He just moves in?”

“More or less. There are several legal details to take care of during the next few days and weeks but, to be honest, I can’t remember what Maitland told me they were. As soon as we come to an agreement, they’ll arrange for the personal belongings to be shipped here.”

“But all of this hinges on our decision.”

As far as he was concerned, there wasn’t a decision to make. The thought of committing himself to the responsibility of another human being who would depend upon him for years to come might send a cold shiver down his spine—a fact that Ruth had known full well—but he couldn’t deny her request, not just because Brody was his own son but because it was time to face his fears.

Unfortunately, the decision wasn’t completely his to make.

It was ironic to think that Sara would have jumped for joy at taking in Brody had someone else fathered him. Unfortunately, Brody’s presence would not only be a visual and constant reminder of his error in judgment but also that she’d lost her own child. The only question was, could she look past those reminders or not?

“Yes,” he answered simply, threading his fingers together in a white-knuckled grip. “Keep in mind he has nowhere else to go.”

She met his gaze. “That’s not fair, Cole. Don’t play on my sympathies to get what you obviously want.”

“I’m only stating a fact.”

Slowly, she rose, leaving the photo on the table. “I won’t apologize for needing time.”

“Okay,” he conceded, “but—”

She held up her hands. “I can’t rush into a decision without thinking this through. The thing is, whatever we—I—decide to do about your son, our lives will never be the same.”

As if he needed to be reminded … He was damned if he did, and damned if he didn’t. Sara must have come to the same realization, too.

Suddenly, holding a person’s life in his hands, medically speaking, seemed like less of a minefield than the situation looming ahead of him. Although he’d mentioned a twenty-four-hour deadline, somehow he sensed that announcing the Maitlands were expecting a decision by tomorrow morning wouldn’t be well received.

He watched helplessly as she walked out of the room.

As he sat alone, he thought about how he’d enjoyed almost three years of blissful ignorance. Ruth should have told him and the fact she hadn’t angered him. He had deserved to know, damn it!

Like Sara deserved to know? his little voice asked. You wanted to protect your relationship with Sara, so maybe Ruth was doing the same for you …

He sighed as he recognized the truth. Ruth’s silence had provided a simpler solution to their dilemma. She’d known how crazily in love he’d been with Sara and breaking the news would have driven a wedge into his new marriage. Not only that, Ruth would have had to share Brody with him because as unprepared as he felt about fatherhood, he would have insisted on knowing his own son, even if he’d been a long-distance parent.

The idea that he might never have known about Brody if Ruth hadn’t died didn’t set well and was too close to his own situation for comfort. His only aunt and uncle hadn’t bothered to make contact with him until he was eight, when circumstances had forced them to do so. While Brody’s fate was still undecided, he certainly wouldn’t ignore the boy in the meantime.

Idly, he wondered if this one subtle difference proved that his fears of repeating his relatives’ dysfunctional behavior were unfounded. Of course, wanting to meet Brody was hardly enough evidence to make a case, but it was a difference that he could think about and consider. In the meantime, he had more pressing concerns.

The clock on the microwave showed six-thirty. Had only thirty minutes passed since he’d broken the news to Sara? Thirty minutes since he’d shattered his wife’s faith in him?

He glanced at the sealed envelope on the table before focusing on the photo of his son. His son. A living, breathing product of his own DNA, a continuation of the Wittman family tree.

The same awed thoughts had bombarded him after Sara had announced her pregnancy but this time the feelings were a little different. Now he had a name and face whereas before the only tangible evidence of his child had been a number on her lab report. Before he’d had time to dream big dreams, to imagine a little boy or girl with Sara’s beautiful eyes and his crooked smile, or to work through his reservations about being a parent, Sara had miscarried.

Brody, however, was here. In the flesh. Already walking and talking with a personality of his own.

Suddenly, the past two-plus years of ignorant bliss were far too long. He wanted to meet his son tonight, regardless of the hour or how cranky he might be. Waiting until tomorrow seemed like an eternity.

As he heard a loud thump coming from the direction of their bedroom, however, his eagerness faded. Meeting a child he might never be able to claim as his own could easily be a prelude to heartache.