Читать книгу Two Much Alike - Pamela Bauer, Pamela Bauer - Страница 10

ALEX WAS ON A BUS headed for the North Shore!

“Do you think he really found Dad?” Emma’s voice was a pin bursting the bubble of panic that held Frannie motionless.

“No.” She reached for the phone and dialed 911. When she was told her son would be considered a runaway and that a police officer would be sent to her home to ask her more questions, she told the dispatcher, “No, don’t do that. I’ll find him myself.”

“Are you mad at the police?” Emma asked, as Frannie slammed the receiver down.

“No.”

“You look like you’re mad.”

“I’m not. I’m worried.

She rubbed her fingers across her forehead. She couldn’t think. She had to think. She took several more calming breaths, then grabbed the phone book and searched for the number to the bus depot.

She vented her frustration at the faceless person on the other end of the line. “I don’t understand how you could let a ten-year-old on the bus without an adult.”

Frannie didn’t like the answer she received. Alex hadn’t been alone. A woman had purchased the ticket for him, saying he was going to visit his father in Grand Marais and would be met at the bus stop there.

What woman would buy a bus ticket for a ten-year-old boy? Frannie asked herself, as panic again bubbled up in her throat. She closed her eyes momentarily and tried not to think the worst. Alex easily could have cried a bucket of tears and concocted a story that would have had any compassionate woman offering to buy him a ticket.

Frannie couldn’t waste time wondering about what had already happened. Her son was on a bus headed for a small town in search of his father. She needed to be calm and she needed to be rational.

She turned to Emma and said, “We need to go find Alex, so I want you to gather a few things for Luke to play with in the car…some books, his blanky,” she said as she mentally made a list of what she needed to bring along.

With her usual systematic approach, she loaded the car. Bottled water, juice boxes, munchies for the kids, change of clothes for Luke in case he had an accident. Luke was toilet trained most of the time, but whenever she least expected it, an accident occurred.

Frannie couldn’t believe how long it took to pack up two kids and get on the road. By the time her station wagon pulled out of the drive, it was midafternoon, which meant they would be lucky to reach the North Shore before evening.

Once they found Alex, they’d have to eat dinner. And by the time they made the journey home again, they’d be fortunate to get to bed by midnight. She gripped the steering wheel tightly, trying not to think about anything but staying calm and finding Alex.

Never had the drive from Minneapolis to Duluth seemed so long. Although Emma read stories and kept Luke entertained for most of the journey, three hours was a long time for any child to spend in the car. Even Emma found it difficult to be still and asked if they could take a break.

“There’s a park down there. Can we go down by the water?” she asked as their journey took them past the harbor.

“You know we can’t stop.”

“But we’ve been in the car forever. And it looks like it’s really fun.” She gazed longingly out the window toward Canal Park.

“I’ll bring you and your brothers back for a visit some other time. Right now we need to get to Grand Marais.”

“Oh, look! That bridge is going up so the boat can get through.” She sighed. “Can’t we stop for just a few minutes?”

Frannie ignored her and continued following the highway along the shoreline of Lake Superior. It being the height of tourist season, traffic moved slowly as motor homes and pickup trucks pulling trailers leisurely made their way to recreational parks.

She glanced at her watch. It was almost six. The bus should have arrived in Grand Marais by now. She wondered where Alex was and what he was doing.

Frannie’s heart rate increased. What if she couldn’t find him? What if Dennis Harper was in the small resort town? What if Alex had found him and he—She pushed such thoughts from her mind. She needed to keep a clear head if she was going to find Alex. She couldn’t allow what-if’s to distract her.

Finally she saw the green road sign: Grand Marais. Frannie’s adrenaline kicked into a higher gear. As she drove into the business district, she kept one eye on the road, the other on the sidewalks in search of her son.

It only took a few minutes to locate the bus stop. When she saw no sign of Alex, she parked her car, then grabbed Luke by the hand and ordered Emma to stick close by.

“I’m looking for my son. He’s ten, dark hair, a couple of inches shorter than I am, wearing a pair of jeans and a blue shirt,” she would say to each of the shopkeepers she met. Each gave her the same answer. No one had seen him.

“When are we going to eat? I’m hungry,” Emma asked as they approached a diner. The aroma of beef grilling wafted on the air, and Luke echoed his sister. “I want to eat, Mommy.”

Frannie pulled open the door to the diner and motioned for Emma to step inside. Her daughter hadn’t taken but a couple of steps when she said, “He’s in here!”

Relief washed over Frannie at the sight of her son sitting on a stool at the lunch counter. In front of him was a half-eaten hamburger and a plate of French fries, and he held a fountain glass in his hand. Seeing his mother, his eyes widened. He slammed the glass down on the counter.

“Mom!”

Hours of pent-up emotion came spilling out. Instead of throwing her arms around him and telling him how relieved she was that he was safe, she scolded him. “Alexander Harper, what do you think you’re doing? Do you know how worried I’ve been about you?” It was only as she noticed the heads turned in her direction that she realized how loud her voice was.

“You’re in big trouble,” Emma said, taking the stool next to his and grabbing a French fry from his plate. “You’re gonna get grounded.”

Seeing the food in front of Alex, Luke squirmed and wriggled, trying to be free of Frannie’s arms. “I’m hungry!” he cried, fingers clawing the air in hopes of reaching Alex’s fries.

“Can I have a hamburger?” Emma asked.

Frannie knew she needed to feed her children. She looked around the small diner for a place for them all to sit.

The waitress behind the counter, a teenage girl wearing a red chef’s apron over her jeans and T-shirt, said, “Why don’t you take that table next to the window?” She gestured to a booth directly behind Frannie. Alex didn’t look as if he wanted to leave his spot at the counter, but the young girl picked up his plate, saying, “Come on, big fella. You’ll have more room over here.”

She led Alex over to the booth, stopping at the end of the counter to pick up a booster seat for Luke. Frannie noticed that on the upper-left corner of her apron was a small white patch with the name Rosie embroidered in black letters.

As soon as they were all seated, she set four paper place mats on the table, each one a map of the area showing local tourist attractions. Then she added silverware and four glasses of water, finishing with menus.

“The kids’ menu is on the back,” she announced, then asked, “Can I start you off with something to drink?”

“I’ll have a Coke,” Emma answered.

“She’ll have milk,” Frannie amended.

Emma made a sound of indignation. “Alex has pop.”

As if suddenly realizing that indeed his brother did have a soda, Luke climbed out of his booster seat and reached across the table for the straw in Alex’s glass. “Pop!”

Frannie pulled Luke off the table and returned him to the booster chair. “Bring two more Cokes, and I’ll have an iced tea,” she said to the waitress, then looked at Luke and said, “You have to sit down like a good boy if you want the nice lady to bring you pop.”

To Frannie’s relief, the waitress returned with not only their drinks, but a small square block of wood holding half-a-dozen crayons and an activity sheet for Luke. While Emma helped her brother connect the dots on a puzzle, Frannie spoke to Alex.

“Do you realize how worried I’ve been?”

Alex didn’t answer, but stared down at the French fries on his plate.

“You shouldn’t have come up here, Alex. Not only is it dangerous for someone your age to ride the bus alone, you have no real proof that your father is even here.”

“I’m gonna find him,” he said stubbornly, still not lifting his gaze.

“You’re going to come home with me,” Frannie said, her voice stern.

“It’s not fair. What if he is here?” He looked up at her then, his eyes full of something Frannie didn’t want to see. Hope.

“He’s not here, Alex,” she said quietly but firmly.

“You don’t know that for sure.”

They were interrupted by the waitress. “Are you ready to order?”

Without even looking at the menu, Frannie ordered hamburgers and fries for the three of them, although she didn’t have much of an appetite. It seemed that Alex didn’t, either. His food hadn’t been touched since they’d arrived.

“Don’t you want to know if he’s here?” Alex asked a few minutes later, his face full of youthful innocence and curiosity.

“I told you. He’s not here,” Frannie replied.

“How do you know?”

“Because he hates Minnesota.”

“But that lady who called said she saw him.”

“Alex, the picture on that poster is eleven years old.”

“It could be him,” he argued, refusing to be persuaded.

There was a short silence, then Emma said, “I don’t know why you want to find him anyway. He doesn’t want to be with us.”

It was said so matter-of-factly, with so little emotion, that Frannie felt her heart break. “I think it would be a good idea if we didn’t discuss your father.”

Alex didn’t say a word, but leaned back against the padded cushion of the booth, his arms folded across his chest.

“Aren’t you going to finish eating?” Emma asked.

“I’m not hungry,” he mumbled between pinched lips.

“Can I have your fries?” his twin asked.

He shoved the plate in her direction. Emma reached for the bottle of ketchup and poured a generous serving on the plate. “Was it fun riding on the bus?”

Alex simply shrugged, not that Emma seemed to mind. She carried on with her chatter. “Wasn’t that big rock tunnel cool? And the lake is so huge! We saw a really long ship in the harbor in Duluth. Can we please stop at that park on the way home?” Emma asked her mother as she happily devoured Alex’s fries.

“We have a long way to go before we get home, Emma,” Frannie answered.

“That means no,” she said, obvious disappointment in her voice.

“We didn’t come up here to visit the parks,” Frannie reminded her. “We came to find Alex.”

That broke Alex’s silence. “You didn’t have to come. I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can buy a bus ticket without my help, but where did you plan to sleep tonight?” Frannie demanded.

“At a campground. Rosie’s cousin has one and she said I could stay there.”

“You don’t have a tent.” Frannie eyed his backpack, which was exceptionally fat yet couldn’t possibly hold a tent and sleeping bag.

“I don’t need one. I brought a blanket. I like sleeping on the ground. Me and Josh did it a whole bunch last summer.”

“It’s one thing to sleep outside in your best friend’s backyard in the city and quite another to be in the wilderness,” Frannie said.

He puffed up his chest. “I’m not afraid.”

Just then Rosie came hustling toward them with a tray full of food. “Okay, we’ve got two regular burgers and fries and one kiddie-size,” she said as she cheerfully set the food on the table. Noticing that Alex had shoved his half-eaten meal aside, she put a hand on his shoulder and said, “Hey, a big kid like you ought to be able to finish that burger. You feeling okay?”

“I was until my mom said I have to go home without finding my dad.” He turned his brown eyes on her, looking very much like a puppy in need of a scratch behind his ears.

Frannie could see the look produced the desired effect. The teen’s face softened in sympathy; she turned to Frannie and said, “If you need a place to stay for the night, my cousin has a resort and campground not far from here. I could call and see if he has any empty cabins.”

Frannie watched Alex’s eyes brighten at the possibility. “Can we?”

Frannie knew her son wasn’t going to like her answer. She stared out the window briefly, trying not to let the look on his face tug so strongly on her emotions.

“I appreciate the offer, Rosie. It’s very kind of you,” she said. “Unfortunately, we’re not prepared to spend the night away from home.”

The waitress shrugged. “If you change your mind, just let me know. Can I get you anything else?”

Frannie couldn’t help but warm to the genuine caring in the young woman’s eyes. It made her realize that her son had been fortunate to stop in this particular diner.

“I think we’re fine for now,” she replied, then turned her attention to Luke, who needed help getting more ketchup on his fries.

To her relief, Alex didn’t force the issue. He sat in silence, occasionally taking a bite of his hamburger, but mostly sipping his pop. Just as Rosie returned to ask if they needed refills on their beverages, Alex jumped up.

“Look! There he is!”

Frannie immediately turned around to see who had captured her son’s attention, but all she saw was the back of a man getting into an SUV.

“It’s Dad! Mom, it’s him! I know it is!” Alex could barely contain his excitement, bobbing up and down like a jack-in-the-box. “Can’t you see him?”

Frannie couldn’t. The SUV was across the street, and traffic moved at a busy clip in front of it.

“That’s your dad?” Rosie asked with an incredulous lift of her brows, but Alex didn’t answer her.

“He’s going to drive away. I have to stop him. Move!” he ordered his sister, pushing her out of the way so he could get out of the booth.

“Alex, wait!” Frannie called after him, but he didn’t stop. She slid out of the booth, following him outside onto the sidewalk. They saw the SUV pull away from the curb and travel down the street.

“He’s gone!” Alex stood on the corner, his shoulders sagging.

Frannie gently put a hand on his. “Come back inside.”

He shrugged off her hand. Frannie didn’t try to take his arm again, but let him stand there for a few moments before she again said, “Come back inside.”

Finally, he did as he was told. As soon as he sat down, Rosie came over to the table. “Did you see him?” he asked the waitress. “Do you know who he is?”

“That was Joe Smith. Are you sure he’s your father?” she asked uneasily, then looked at Frannie, who shook her head gently.

Alex unzipped his backpack and pulled out one of the yellow flyers. “See? Doesn’t he look like that guy in the SUV?”

Rosie studied the photograph, her eyes narrowing. “It sure does look like Joe, but he wears his hair different.”

“What I’ve been trying to explain to Alex is that there are men who look like his father. You know, they have the same color hair, the same nose, similar smiles,” Frannie said to the waitress. “I’m sure that’s the way it is with this Joe Smith. He’s simply someone who resembles Alex’s father.”

The waitress nodded in agreement. “And to be honest, Joe doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to lie about who he is. He’s a pilot. If you want, I can give you directions to his place. It’s on the Gunflint Trail.”

Alex said yes at the same time Frannie said no. He looked at his mother and asked, “Why not?”

“Because he’s not your father. Your father isn’t a pilot,” Frannie reminded him. Joe Smith isn’t Dennis Harper, she told herself, and to take a trip up the Gunflint Trail would only make the day more frustrating for all of them. Alex’s eyes were filled with a false hope that Frannie had no doubt would be replaced by disappointment if he were to meet this Joe Smith.

When Luke indicated he needed to go to the bathroom, Frannie gave the twins strict instructions. “Don’t either of you move from this booth. Understand?”

Both nodded. As much as Frannie hated leaving Alex alone for even five minutes, she knew she needed to tend to Luke. As she walked past Rosie, she said, “Would you do me a favor and let me know if Alex tries to leave?”

The young woman smiled. “Sure.”

When she and Luke emerged from the rest room, Frannie was grateful to see that Rosie had followed her request. Emma and Alex were still seated in the booth. Alex’s face was animated, and it was only as Frannie returned that she saw the reason why. In his hands was a crudely drawn map on a white paper napkin.

“What is that?” she asked, eyeing the map suspiciously.

“Rosie told me how to get to the Gunflint Trail,” Alex answered.

“We’re not going there,” Frannie said as she helped Luke back into the booster seat.

“Why not?” It came out as a whine. “Mom, please! I spent all of my can money to buy that bus ticket.”

Frannie felt even worse. She knew how hard Alex worked to collect cans. Every week he’d go from house to house in the neighborhood, gathering aluminum cans so they could take them to the recycling center where he’d receive a small amount of cash. Every cent he made went into a locked box he kept under his bed because he had a goal: to buy his own computer.

Now he’d spent that money on a bus ticket to go in search of a man who didn’t want to be found. A man who didn’t care that Alex even existed.

“We’re already here,” Alex continued to plead with her. “Can’t we at least go see him?”

It seemed as if two hands had a hold of Frannie’s heart and were tugging it in opposite directions. She briefly closed her eyes, hoping that when she opened them she’d discover this entire day was a bad dream.

It wasn’t.

Alex could see she was weakening and pushed even harder. “Can’t we, Mom, please?”

“I need to pay the bill. Sit here,” she ordered the three of them, then went up to the cash register near the door. Rosie immediately hurried over to help her.

“Is everything all right?” she asked, glancing back to where Alex sat slouched in the booth, frowning.

“It will be. Thanks for keeping an eye on Alex. I appreciate the kindness you showed him today.” She handed the girl several bills.

“It wasn’t a big deal.” She counted out the correct change into Frannie’s hand. “He still thinks Joe Smith is his father, doesn’t he.”

Frannie nodded. “How far is it to this Gunflint Trail?”

“Not very far at all. It wouldn’t take but maybe half an hour to find the Smith place. Then at least Alex would know for sure…” She let her voice trail off, giving Frannie an understanding smile that indicated she was more mature than her age indicated.

“Yes, he would,” Frannie said with an answering smile. “Thank you, Rosie.”

When Frannie got back to the booth, Alex was silently sobbing. She knew how much he hated to cry.

Frannie’s emotions were near the breaking point as well, yet she knew there was only one way for any of them to have peace of mind. She said a silent prayer that she wouldn’t regret what she was about to do.

“All right. We’ll drive up to this Joe Smith’s place.”

“I’M HOT,” Emma complained.

So was Frannie. When she’d left Grand Marais, she’d turned off the car’s air-conditioning because of the road’s steep grade. She felt the engine needed all of its power just to get them up the incline. Although the windows were down, the air inside the car was hot and sticky.

“Are you watching the signs?” she asked.

“There should be a lookout point coming up soon,” Alex told her, acting as navigator. “There it is—” His arm shot out to the right. “Now we just keep going straight on this road.”

Apprehension crept down Frannie’s spine just as beads of perspiration trickled down her forehead. Because of the tall trees, what little there was left of the sinking sun vanished as she drove deeper into the forest. As often as she told herself that this Joe Smith was not Dennis Harper, she knew that her anxiety wasn’t only due to what effect meeting this man would have on Alex. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t ignore the tiny voice that asked mercilessly, What if it really is him?

“We should be getting close,” Alex said, when she expressed her concern that they had gone a long way without seeing the next landmark.

“There! On the right!” he said excitedly.

Frannie glanced to the side of the road and saw a small sign: Nature’s Hideaway.

“Stop!” Alex called out.

Frannie turned onto the dirt road and encountered a wrought-iron gate barring the entrance. “It says Private and No Trespassing.”

Alex hopped out of the car and went to investigate. Within minutes he had pushed opened the gate and was motioning for his mother to drive through. When he got back in the car, she said, “We shouldn’t be doing this. It’s private property.”

“But the gate was open. If he didn’t want anyone coming in, he would lock it,” he reasoned.

The hair on the back of Frannie’s neck rose as she continued down the winding gravel road. The sun had completely disappeared, and if she hadn’t glanced at her watch, she would have thought it was much later. Having difficulty seeing the road, she switched on her headlights.

“How come everything’s such a funny color?” Emma asked, calling Frannie’s attention to the green pall that seemed to surround them. “Is it going to storm?”

Frannie’s apprehension doubled. “I sure hope not.” Frannie turned on the radio but found the static was so bad that it was impossible to hear. With an impatient sigh, she turned it off again.

“The sky’s a funny color, too,” Alex observed. Frannie wondered how he could even see the sky through the heavy foliage.

“I see something,” Alex called out. “I think it’s a house.”

It was a house, Frannie discovered as she pulled into a clearing. A beautiful log home sitting on the shore of a lake. She parked the car next to the SUV they’d seen in town. As she turned off the engine, she found herself short of breath, her uneasiness creeping into her throat. She didn’t want to let go of the steering wheel for fear her hands would tremble. She looked toward the house, wondering if anyone had heard their arrival. If they had, they weren’t in any hurry to come out and greet them.

The sudden buzzing of a chain saw starting up told her why.

“He’s over there,” she heard Alex say, then she looked behind them toward a shed where a man was sawing a fallen tree into logs.

In the blink of an eye, Alex was out of the car and sprinting toward him. “Stay with your brother,” Frannie barked at Emma, then went after Alex.

She was no match for her son’s youthful speed. She watched him run up to the man, who wore a denim shirt and jeans. The chain saw stopped.

With his back to her, Frannie couldn’t see whether the man was Dennis Harper. He appeared to be the same height, and he had the same dark brown hair as her ex-husband. But when he turned and looked in Frannie’s direction, she felt as if someone had delivered a swift blow to her stomach. He did look like Dennis, even with the plastic goggles over his eyes. She paused, suddenly feeling as if her knees might buckle beneath her.

It can’t be him. She stared at the man, not wanting to believe she could be looking at her ex-husband. It can’t be, she repeated to herself.

“Are you lost?” he asked, the question directed more at her than at her son.

Not only did he look like Dennis, but he sounded like him, too. Frannie’s limbs shook so much, she thought she might fall to the ground. With great difficulty, she swallowed against the dryness in her mouth and walked toward him. This time she moved slowly, but her mind raced. How could it be him? Why would he be here?

When he removed the protective goggles and let them dangle around his neck, she saw that his eyes were brown—the same as Dennis’s—yet these eyes were looking at her as if she were a perfect stranger.

Again he spoke, “Do you need directions?”

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. All she could do was stare at him.

Alex, however, had no trouble finding his voice. “You thought we wouldn’t find you, didn’t you?”

“I think there’s been some mistake,” he began, only to have Alex cut him off.

Like a preacher in a pulpit, the boy wagged his finger to emphasize his words. “Yeah. You’re the big mistake. Mom never should have married you. You’re a deadbeat. It’s bad enough that you didn’t want to stay married to Mom and be our dad, but you don’t even have the decency to be any kind of dad at all—not even a rotten one. You just hid so you didn’t have to pay anything.”

Frannie found her voice. “Alex, that’s enough.”

“No, it’s not.” He defied her, continuing on with his sermon. “He needs to know that you had to work two jobs most of the time to pay the bills. When Luke was sick, we had to go to the food bank to get stuff to eat. But Dad didn’t care. All he wanted was to forget about us.” He turned back to the man who looked so much like his father. “Well, I’m not going to let you forget. I’m going to go to the police and tell them who you really are, and they’ll make you pay.”

Alex’s cheeks were red and his chest was heaving by the time he’d finished his tirade. Frannie knew he was close to tears, yet he stoically stood his ground, his head held high. Frannie thought it was strange that not even a bird chirped or an insect buzzed. All she could hear was Alex’s breathing. She wanted to wrap him in her arms and squeeze away all his heartache. She knew she couldn’t.

Alex finally broke the silence. “Well, aren’t you going to say anything?”

The man looked at Frannie, and she knew what his next words were going to be. She wasn’t surprised when he said, “I’m not your father.”

“YOU LOOK LIKE HIM.” A female version of the boy who’d just verbally blistered him approached Joe with curiosity in her eyes, but not hostility.

“Emma, I told you to wait in the car,” the woman said to the girl. “Where’s Luke?”

“He fell asleep. I left the windows down.”

That information had the woman hurrying back to the battered old station wagon parked next to his SUV. “Are you two brother and sister?” he asked the pair now standing before him, gazing at him as if he were the villain in a horror film.

“As if you don’t know,” the boy said with derision.

“We’re twins,” the girl said.

“Do you think we wouldn’t recognize our own dad when we saw him?” the boy continued.

“I may look like him, but I’m not him,” he replied, as the pair continued to scrutinize him. “My name is Joe Smith.”

“That sounds like a made-up name to me,” the boy said.

“It’s not. If you wait just a minute, I’ll go inside and get my wallet. It has my driver’s license in it,” he told them.

“It’s probably a fake,” the boy countered.

“If you’re not going to take my driver’s license as proof, what will satisfy you?”

The little girl whispered something to her brother, who then said, “Take off your shirt.”

“What?” Joe almost chuckled at the absurdity of the request.

“I said, take off your shirt,” the boy repeated.

“Look, I told you I’m not your father,” Joe said, trying not to lose patience with the kids.

“Then take off your shirt and prove it,” the boy challenged him. “Or are you chicken?”

Joe could hardly believe what was happening. He was being confronted by two kids who were accusing him of being their deadbeat dad and demanding that he take off his shirt. “No, I’m not chicken, but I’m not your father, either,” he said evenly.

“Then, why won’t you take off your shirt?” the boy persisted.

Joe decided to humor the kids rather than stand there arguing with them. If it took revealing his bare chest to convince these two that he wasn’t their father, he’d do it. He unbuttoned his shirt and took it off, leaving him bare-chested and the object of their wide-eyed stares.

“Oh my gosh! It is him!” The little girl stared at him as if she’d seen a ghost, then went running back to the car.

“And you said you weren’t him!” the boy accused him before racing after his sister. They met their mother, who was coming toward them with an even younger child in tow. The two jumped up and down excitedly and pointed in Joe’s direction. Joe couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it was enough to stiffen their mother’s shoulders and put a frown on her face.

She approached him cautiously, carrying a sleepy child in her arms. She looked like a mother hen about to do battle for her chicks.

He put his shirt back on, unsure what it was that had triggered such a response in the kids. “If these are your biological children, you must know that I’m not their father.”

From her expression, he could see that she didn’t.

“Dennis, if you’re playing some kind of joke with these kids, it’s not funny.” A shadow in her eyes told him that whoever this Dennis was, he’d hurt her badly.

“I’m not Dennis and I wouldn’t play such a cruel trick on any children,” he answered a bit impatiently. “My name is Joe Smith. I don’t have any kids. If I had, I wouldn’t deny their existence. Surely you, their mother, must see that I’m not the man they think I am.”

“Stop lying!” she shouted. He could see that she was close to losing control. “You’ve been running and lying all your life. Just for once tell the truth.”

He ran a hand over his hair in exasperation. “I’m not their father. Whatever it was they saw when I took off my shirt…it doesn’t mean I’m their father.”

Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him. “They saw your tattoo.”

Suddenly he realized the reason behind the children’s demand. It had been to see if he had a tattoo on his upper arm. He wasted no time in explaining. “You can’t possibly think I’m their father because I have the same tattoo as he does on my arm. Do you know how many sailors get tattoos while they’re in the Navy?”

“Let me see it,” she said quietly.

This time he didn’t take off his shirt, but pushed up the sleeve until the anchor with the letters USN could be seen. She took one glance, then looked away, her teeth tugging on her upper lip.

“If it’s the same as your husband’s—”

“My ex- husband,” she corrected defiantly, as if reminding him she couldn’t stand to be around him. “Ex-husband,” she repeated like a warning.

“If it’s the same tattoo, it’s a coincidence.” He stared into deep blue eyes. What he saw in them was contempt, and it annoyed him that those beautiful eyes contained such venom toward him because of what another man had done. “Look. All you have to do is come inside and I’ll show you proof of who I am.”

“Now that is something I will not do,” she said through clenched teeth.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. Joe glanced at the sky, then said, “I think you’d better come inside just the same. There’s a storm moving in. You’re welcome to stay until it passes.”

“I will not stay anywhere with you. All I want is to get as far away from here as possible,” she said, her voice breaking with emotion. She called to her kids, “We have to get in the car. It’s going to rain.”

“Are we going to call the police?” Joe heard the boy asked.

Police. Joe knew he needed to convince this woman that he was not her ex-husband. What he didn’t need was for some kid to mistake him for a man who was in trouble with the law. He had his own past to haunt him. He didn’t need another man’s.

“Would you people listen to me?” he said in frustration as big raindrops began to pepper the earth. “I am not the man you’re looking for.”

A gust of wind sent the boy’s baseball cap sailing through the air. He went chasing after it, but it kept tumbling on the wind.

“Don’t worry about the hat, Alex. Just get in the car,” the woman said, as a sudden downpour pelted them. She herded her kids toward the station wagon.

Joe watched them struggle to reach the car, the gusty winds impeding their progress. Then he took another look at the sky and knew he couldn’t let this woman and her children leave. He caught up with her and grabbed her by the arm.

She flinched when he touched her, and he immediately let go. “You can’t drive in this,” he said as large raindrops stung his cheeks and dampened their clothing. “Please. Come inside. Your children will be safer in the house.”