Mixed Blessings
Cathy Marie Hake
A routine medical exam told widowed Marie Cadant that her little boy had been switched with another at birth. But when she tracked down wealthy Peter Hallock– the man who had her biological son– she was surprised to find another single parent, and one eager to love not just his own child, but hers, as well.Even as they struggled to keep their children close despite their far-flung homes, Peter was intrigued by Marie' s inner strength and deep faith. He prevailed on her to accept a marriage of convenience for the children' s sake, then faced the challenge of convincing her that despite the circumstances, theirs was a marriage truly made in heaven.
“We can talk here.
Do you have any other children?”
Turning back to face Peter, Marie steeled herself with a gulp of air. “The only other child I have is in your house.”
An agonized roar tore from his chest as he bolted to his feet.
“Mr. Hallock, I have to see my baby.”
“We don’t know for sure that Luke is your son.” Even as he spoke, his face flushed. Was it from anger, or guilt?
Marie felt sick at how she’d torn this man’s world apart, but she couldn’t leave without learning the truth. “What does he—your son, Luke—look like?”
“You’re not getting my son.” His eyes bored through her. His volume dropped ominously, but the rumble carried conviction. “The Hallocks are never losing another child.”
CATHY MARIE HAKE
walked five miles uphill in the Southern California snow (both ways) every week to check out books from the library. Then she grew up. Discovering the real mystery and adventure in life was men, Cathy fell head over heels for romance. She married the high school sweetheart she met at church, and now has two kids, two dogs and a fulfilling job as a nurse and Lamaze teacher. She enjoys writing stories that combine love and faith in a romance you can believe in.
Mixed Blessings
Cathy Marie Hake
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
But God commends His own love toward us,
in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.
—Romans 5:8
To Andrea, who had faith with me and in me.
To Krista, who held my hand through cyberspace.
To my family, who believed and waited with me.
To Deb, who blessed me with her insights.
And most of all, to the Lord,
for His mercy and grace.
Dear Reader,
In my other life, I’m a Lamaze teacher. (Yes, it’s an absolutely delightful profession.) One night, after class, a father-to-be asked, “What if the worst happened? What if our baby got swapped?” He was thrilled to learn our hospital allows daddies to stay with mother and child the whole time. That lucky baby girl has a father who loves her, wants her and is protective.
If an earthly father wants good for his daughter, how much more does the Heavenly Father want for His daughters? Luke 11:13 says, “If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask Him?”
Even then, we all have problems. Burdens. Tragedies. Marie and Peter experienced one of the worst imaginable. Their hearts were torn, their faith tested. In the end, the Lord helped them see the potential, the blessings and the triumph He sees when asked to be with us as we walk the path set before us.
My prayer for you is that you will hold tight to the Heavenly Father’s hand on the days you skip with joy, and that in the dark of night when all you have are tears, you’ll know the comfort of His drying them. All we have to do is ask.
I’d love to hear from you. You can write to me through my Web site http://members.aol.com/cathymariehake or through Steeple Hill at the following address: Cathy Marie Hake c/o Steeple Hill Books, 223 Broadway, Ste. 1001, New York, NY 10279.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter One
“Mr. Hallock, the Cadant woman is out here. She pulled right up to the gate and is blocking the driveway. I’ve already notified the police.”
Peter Hallock gripped the receiver. “I’ll be right there to handle her. Don’t let her in.” He slammed down the phone and headed for the front walkway. This woman had pursued them zealously, and he was going to put an end to it—here and now. No one threatened his son.
Four days ago, she’d tilted his world when she called and introduced herself, then rasped, “We have to talk. I— I have your son.” Peter could see Luke with his nanny just outside the window, so he’d hung up and immediately called them inside. He refused to accept three other subsequent calls from Ms. Cadant.
When Ms. Cadant persisted by sending a letter marked “Urgent!” via next-day mail, he consulted a security specialist and returned it unopened, as recommended. He also hired a security guard. Worried, he’d taken off from his job as the CEO of the local hospital. Luke was the joy of his life, and as long as there was even a hint of danger, Peter would do everything in his power to safeguard his son. At the moment, that meant confronting the woman. He’d make it clear she’d tangled with the wrong man.
He couldn’t believe she had the gall to show up—but that just reinforced how dangerous and mentally unstable she must be. Each long, purposeful stride he took down the cobblestone walkway took him away from his son’s giggles that spilled from the backyard and closer to the opportunity to tell Marie Cadant she’d gone too far.
When she came into view, Peter felt a jolt of surprise. Marie Cadant wasn’t anything like what he’d expected. Instead of a vampy siren or an unkempt bag lady, she looked like an ordinary, albeit pretty, housewife. She stood beside the open door of a road-weary blue sedan. A snarled skein of shoulder-length, buttery yellow hair glowed in the midday sunlight. It framed big blue eyes and dimples. Her rumpled apricot-colored dress looked like she’d sneaked a nap in it, and the run in her nylons called his attention to ankles that were just as trim as the rest of her.
As he passed through the heavy wrought-iron gates, she stepped forward and gave him a tentative smile. “Thank you for coming!”
He scowled back. “Miss Cadant, I thought I’d already made myself abundantly clear. I don’t deal with seedy little opportunists or con artists. Now leave.”
Her smile faded. “Please! This is terribly important—”
“The police are on the way.”
She folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the car. “Please, listen! You’ve got to listen to me.”
“Not a chance, lady.” Peter spun away and took a step back toward the house. Just then, he realized the giggles he thought had been Luke’s were coming from the neighbor’s grandchildren.
“I have your son!” Ms. Cadant cried.
He wheeled around quickly, but she’d already dipped her head into the car. He saw chubby toddler arms around her neck. A wild surge of adrenaline flooded him. “Nooooo!” he roared as he shot toward her car before she could take his precious boy. “Luke!”
Everything clicked into eerie slow motion. The woman straightened and turned. Her arms encircled a little boy. A red plastic toy firefighter’s hat tumbled off the child, revealing wide, frightened eyes as he screamed in terror. Peter came to an abrupt halt, but his hands still closed around the boy’s ribs.
“Police!” someone boomed. “Freeze!”
Instinctively protecting the boy, the woman held him tighter. Her hand came up and cupped his head to her shoulder. Every speck of color drained from her face. The officer continued, “No one’s going to get hurt if you let the boy go.”
Peter shouted, “It’s not Luke!”
In spite of his assertion, four officers all converged on the car, their weapons still drawn. “Is there anyone in the back seat?” one officer called to another.
So close he could see the woman’s whole body shuddering, Peter felt some of his furor fade. Hopefully, she’d learned her lesson and would leave him alone now. For a brief second, her tongue loosened. “Let us go. I’ll never come back. Please—”
“Mr. Hallock.” An officer drew him off to the side to talk as his partner interviewed Ms. Cadant. Clearly, Marie wanted nothing to do with the officer. After stammering something, she desperately started to stuff her child into the car. The cop firmly drew her to the back end of her sedan and tried to calm her. Peter couldn’t hear much of what she said over the boy’s frightened wails.
The officer with him gained his attention. “Sir, she’s made threats and trespassed.”
“No. Wait.” He’d just heard her mention Melway General. Peter’s heart kicked into overdrive. Luke was born at Melway.
The tyke’s pitiful sobs tore at Peter. Ms. Cadant didn’t indulge in tears, but she looked ready to collapse. Whatever she said made the cop shoot a quick glance from the boy, over to Peter, then back again.
Her little boy. Hers? I have your son… The child she held sported red hair and black-brown eyes. He was the only person Peter had ever seen with that unique combination—other than when he glanced in the mirror. This boy looked like a twin to the pictures in Peter’s own baby book—and he seemed to be about the right age, too….
It can’t be. It can’t.
Peter agonized over what to do. Something was wrong, dreadfully wrong. Her impulsive appearance was bad enough, but his rash actions had undoubtedly made things far worse. Prompted by painful memories, he’d responded in such a way that he’d jeopardized this woman and her little boy. “We’ll…talk. Give me a minute with her.”
“No,” his security guard protested. “You can’t do that. Never give in to these tactics. It’s a big mistake.”
The police officer cast a disparaging look at the guard and muttered something under his breath about wanna-be cops and rent-a-thugs. “No one,” he grated, “is doing anything until she calms down.”
“I’ll talk to her,” Peter reiterated in a louder tone.
“No.” Marie cringed and stammered, “It w-was all a m-m-mistake. I’ll go—”
“Ma’am,” the officer interrupted, “you’re in no condition to drive.”
The little boy clung to her for dear life. His arms and legs twined tightly about her neck and waist. Something about the way she cradled him spoke eloquently of love and protection. A woman who cherished her child wouldn’t ever intentionally endanger him. She’d obviously anticipated no possible jeopardy since she’d brought along the boy.
The little guy was big for her to hold. He had to be heavy, but her arms stayed wound about him. She kissed his unruly curls, then rested her cheek on them.
“She needs to sit down.” Peter pointed past the gates toward a small garden. “There’s a bench over there.”
The two cops got together and exchanged information. The one who had been talking to Peter looked at the child, then back at him. A less astute person would have missed the subtle grimace, but Peter read body language as a matter of course. In dealing with staff, families and attorneys, he’d learned to pick up faint cues, and it stood him in good stead. Clearly, the cops felt something vital was going on between him and the Cadant woman.
Whatever the issue, Peter didn’t want an audience. He took control. “Ms. Cadant is rattled, but it’s apparent she doesn’t mean any harm. I appreciate your response, but I’m confident we can handle this matter, ourselves.” As he spoke, Peter closed the distance between them. He cupped Marie’s elbow and marveled she’d stayed upright. Uncertain her legs would hold much longer, he knew he’d better hustle her to the bench. “Here.” He tugged her lightly.
Instead of taking his cue, she tilted her face up to his. Peter inhaled sharply when he saw her expression. He’d expected to see fear, but the total devastation painting her features stunned him. Shock and tears glazed her huge eyes. “Come with me, Marie. There’s a little bench in the garden.”
“Let us go!”
“You wanted to talk to me.”
“Not anymore!”
“You cannot hold her against her will,” said the officer who had been interviewing her.
She’d pursued him almost fanatically, yet now when he granted her his attention, Marie Cadant looked as if she’d give all she owned to be anywhere else. Peter knew he couldn’t allow her to go until they resolved the matter. “I can’t let you leave. You heard the cop—you can’t drive right now. It’s too dangerous.” His fingers tightened until he managed to make her focus on him again.
Marie gulped in several deep breaths. In spite of the terror of the moment, Peter’s assertive tone sliced through some of her fear. She felt his body ease away a bit, felt his sigh gust across her face, and barely heard his soft praise. “Good. There you go. You’re going to be all right. Come sit down.”
When he shifted to the side, his hand rotated so he kept hold of her, but his arm slipped beneath hers to brace her. He executed the move easily, capably, as if he were accustomed to dealing with balking, emotional women. Her fright caused a strange split to take place. Marie felt oddly removed—almost as if she were a spectator who could see silly details. The numbness wore off the second his other hand came across and pressed against Ricky’s little back.
Her hold on Ricky tightened so intensely, she accidentally squeezed Mr. Hallock’s arm between her arm and ribs. He studied her for a long moment, then gently stroked up and down Ricky’s back. “I’d offer to carry him, but he needs you too much right now.”
She bobbed her head in jerky affirmation. When Peter Hallock tried leading her off to the right, she couldn’t seem to comply. Her feet stayed rooted to the ground. Every shred of maternal instinct screamed at her to shove Ricky back into the car and flee, yet she couldn’t.
Peter gave her arm a tiny squeeze. Tall and broad-shouldered as he was, he overshadowed Marie and intensified her sense of vulnerability. It took a moment for her to realize his eyes no longer snapped with temper—they were dark brown pools of concern. “Ms. Cadant,” he said quietly, “that was a bad scare, but it’s over. You and the boy are safe.”
She shook her head. Safe? Oh, no. Peter Hallock simply didn’t know the truth—and her truth jeopardized all they both held dear. With a stilted gait, Marie accompanied him down a herringbone brick path to a bench that couldn’t be seen from the road. It rested in the shelter of a long, tall hedge and faced a small, circular patch of bright, multicolored spring flowers.
“See? Nice and quiet.” Peter’s voice took on a coaxing tone. “We can talk here.”
A verdant lawn dotted with croquet wickets stretched almost fifty yards between that area and the house. Marie looked back over her shoulder and felt a small flash of relief that the cops hadn’t left. Peter Hallock led her over to a wrought-iron bench. She sank onto it and automatically turned to the side, away from Peter, in a vain effort to keep little Ricky as her very own for even a few more precious seconds.
Peter sat down right beside her and stayed silent—as if he expected her to explain everything. Though she tried to gather her wits, Marie knew no matter how much she’d prayed, she wasn’t ready for this moment. Firmly, yet gently, Peter managed to wrap an arm about her shoulders and turn her around. He tenderly ran his long fingers through Ricky’s hair. “Hey, tiger.”
“Mommy!”
“He’s a mama’s boy?”
Marie nodded. She gratefully accepted the snowy handkerchief Peter produced from the inside chest pocket of his stylish, charcoal suit coat and still kept hold of Ricky. She mopped her boy’s sweet little cheeks, then nestled the child’s face in the crook of her neck and rested her cheek on his crown. Giving Peter a stricken look, she took several choppy breaths. I can’t do this. I can’t tell him. She’d come this far, but her courage failed her. “We won’t ever bother you again.”
The way he stared at her for many long seconds and carefully scanned each of her features heightened her anxiety. She felt a small flash of relief that she’d tucked Ricky in so closely. Mr. Hallock wouldn’t be able to see his features well at all. Maybe she could still slip away from him.
Seconds ticked by. Each heartbeat hurt more than the last. The man beside her had razor-cut mahogany hair that glinted in the sun, just like Ricky’s did. His eyes were the color of dark chocolate—just like Ricky’s. His look of intense concentration, the shape of his nose…just like Ricky’s. Though everything within her railed against it, Marie couldn’t deny the truth. This is Ricky’s fath—
He shattered the fragile stillness. “How old is he, Marie?”
She nervously licked her lips. In a thin voice, she offered, “Three.” She patted her son’s back and murmured his name over and over again in a mournful chant as his tears tapered off into the hiccups.
“So you named him Ricky. What’s his birth date?”
She didn’t want to tell him. Now that the time arrived, it was too hard, too miserable. Marie gnawed on her trembling lower lip. God, he’s not going to let me slip away. I’m going to have to go through with it. Please give me strength….
He jostled her a little and persisted, “Marie, when’s Ricky’s birthday? Tell me.”
“April Fool’s Day.”
Peter closed his eyes for a second, then opened them again. In a slowly exhaled breath, he asked for confirmation, “Did I hear you tell the cop he was born at Melway General?”
Marie nodded. She held her little boy and began rocking to and fro, as much to comfort herself as to soothe him. She desperately needed comforting. Steeling herself with a deep breath, Marie forged into the dark waves of doubt. “I started to have seizures during the labor, so they did an emergency cesarean. I didn’t get to hold him for the first three days. My grandmother had red hair, so I didn’t think anything was wrong.” She studied Peter’s mahogany hair and fell silent.
“What happened?”
Still remembering the hazy days surrounding the birth, she murmured a rambling, “I had severe toxemia…sedated me…said I had a seizure, but I don’t recall it…woke up in the intensive care unit…”
He nodded sagely as he absorbed her explanation, then asked, “How did you decide Ricky isn’t yours?”
Her arms spasmed around her son. “He is mine! Ricky is mine! I’ve loved him and—”
Peter gently pressed two fingers to her lips to quiet her and interrupted, “I meant biologically unrelated, Marie.” He gave her an apologetic smile, then broke contact.
She tried to settle down. “The last week has been horrible. I’m sorry I’m so snappish.”
“It’s understandable. Tell me what happened last week.”
“The day-care center where I work had medical students come do physicals on the children. They did lab work and head-to-toe checkups. When I got Ricky’s results, I thought they’d made a mistake. A kid can’t have AB-negative blood when both parents have O positive.”
“I’m AB negative,” he whispered hoarsely.
She closed her eyes, as if it would make the problem disappear. Trying to ignore Peter’s revelation, she whispered, “I made them test Ricky again. I had them test me, too. When it came back conclusively that he couldn’t…”
He seemed to know she wouldn’t finish the sentence. Those words were too painful to say aloud. Swirling his big hand on Ricky’s back, he asked, “How did you find me?”
“I know I’ve been a pest, but I couldn’t help it. The hospital—I didn’t go to them because I don’t trust them. It seemed wrong, letting them control this when they’d already messed it up so badly.”
“So you did all of the legwork, yourself? You didn’t hire anyone to help you?”
“I went to the county registrar’s office and checked in the Hall of Records. It’s a small community hospital, so there weren’t all that many birth records to wade through. Only four boys were born during that time. One was a stillbirth, so that left three, and I knew the boy who weighed in at over ten pounds couldn’t have been switched with a seven-pounder, so that left me with you.”
“You don’t have any real proof yet.” He sounded like she had a few short days ago—anxious to deny the truth. Desperate.
“I wouldn’t have come if I wasn’t sure, Mr. Hallock. The doctor guaranteed me Ricky isn’t—that biologically, he can’t be…” She sucked in a deep breath. “The only time I’ve been separated from him was during the hospital stay. There’s no other possibility.”
“What does your husband say about all of this?”
She averted her face as a wave of grief washed over her. Her heart contracted as she watched the flowers in the patch flutter in the breeze, just as she’d watched the ones in the bouquets flutter at Jack’s graveside. Their scent suddenly grew just as cloying, too.
“You’re wearing a wedding ring,” he prompted tentatively.
“Jack was a police officer. He got shot and killed in the line of duty almost two years ago.” She heard the sharply indrawn breath Peter took and didn’t dare look at him for fear she’d start weeping all over again.
“I’m so sorry, Marie. I’m sorry they pulled guns just now, too. That must’ve brought up painful memories.” He paused, and she slowly nodded confirmation. Birdsong filled the silence—so out of place in the midst of a catastrophe. “Do you have any other children?”
Turning back to face him, Marie steeled herself with a gulp of air. “The only other child I have is in your house.”
An agonized roar tore from his chest as he bolted to his feet and paced away a few steps. He turned back again. His mouth opened and closed several times, as if he were going to say something and then decided not to.
“Mr. Hallock, I have to see my baby.”
“We don’t know for sure that Luke is your son.” Even as he spoke, his face flushed. Was it from anger, or guilt?
Marie felt sick at how she’d torn this man’s world apart, but now that she’d calmed down a bit, she couldn’t leave without learning the truth. “What does he—your son, Luke—look like?”
“You’re not getting my son.” His eyes bored through her. His volume dropped ominously, but the rumble carried conviction. “The Hallocks are never losing another child.”
Chapter Two
His words and tone stunned her. Had one of his other children died? Had he lost one in a custody battle? It wasn’t her place to ask, but Marie could tell from those agonized words Peter Hallock fiercely loved and protected his own. A host of primitive emotions crackled between them. Ricky squirmed and broke the tense silence. “I gotta go potty!”
When Peter failed to react, Marie prompted, “Could we please go inside?”
“Yeah. Sure.” He got up and helped her to her feet. “Give me a few days to get over the shock. No, give me a lifetime. This is a hideous nightmare!”
“I know.” His look of mixed anguish and bewildered hurt struck a common chord. Marie struggled to keep her voice steady, “I keep praying I’ll wake up and it’ll be behind me.”
Peter eased Ricky from her arms and glanced at her, then down at Ricky and back at her. His face appeared even more haunted. “I don’t know if we’ll wake up, Marie.”
The officers still hovered close by. “Ma’am? Sir—”
Peter took charge. “We appreciate your assistance. No one is at risk—unless it’s Ricky and me in danger of getting drenched. You can leave.” The cops chuckled as Peter increased his pace.
She hastened alongside him, up a cobblestone walk bordered by perfectly manicured hedges and lawn. His home looked like a Georgian mansion. It stood as evidence of power, class, and wealth. Marie hadn’t researched him—all she’d gotten were a name, address and phone number. She’d tried to get more information, but she didn’t know the ins and outs of investigating someone, and the few leads she had were useless. The gates hadn’t been mere façade—the home behind them and the man who lived in it were steeped in money. That fact increased her wariness.
When they reached the bathroom and Ricky fumbled to pull down his elastic-waisted jeans, Peter braced himself against the marble pullman. “I don’t want to believe it.” In a sickened hush he added, “But I think I do.”
His words only confirmed her worst fears. The days of praying and nights of sleeplessness all came down to this. Marie wanted to turn back the clock and return to the days when she innocently mothered the child she’d always thought was hers. As she soaped Ricky’s hands over the sink, she felt his slippery hand slide away from hers and knew it was symbolic. It took every last shred of her self-control to keep from weeping.
Peter stared at Ricky. His eyes held a dazed cast. “I hoped you were mistaken. We’d do tests—you know—and realize you’d just been…wrong. This nightmare is real. You have my s—”
“Daddy?” a high voice piped out in the hallway. “Lookie! I gots a—” As soon as the toddler discovered strangers, he halted midsentence and clutched his father’s slacks for security.
Transfixed, Marie stood still and stared at the boy. His corn-silk hair matched hers, as did his dimples. He had her small, straight nose and gently rounded chin, but he also carried some of Jack’s traits. She folded her wet hands to her chest to still the thundering in her heart. His name whispered between her lips.
Peter immediately grabbed the boy by the shoulder and turned him to divert his attention. “Hey, sport! I found someone to be your friend. Let’s go to the playroom.” He scooped up the child before Marie could even reach out for him. Peter threw a towel at Marie, grabbed Ricky, and headed down the hall.
“Wait!” She hurriedly dried her hands and chased after him. The man had an impossibly long stride. She kept her eyes on them—the boy who matched his red hair, and the boy who matched her blond. A jumble of emotions muddled her brain.
She hurriedly caught up with him at the doorway to a playroom. Sunlight streamed through gleaming windows, illuminating the bold primary colors of the simple furniture and toy shelves. Every imaginable thing a child might dream to possess filled the place. A very young woman in overalls carefully stacked blocks back into a red plastic bin and gave the boys a warm smile. Mrs. Hallock?
“Anne, we have guests,” Peter said in a friendly tone that still carried authority. “Please ask Mrs. Lithmas to bring lunch here for the four of us. You may have the rest of the day off. Have her call Paulette to cancel my twelve o’clock, too.”
“Yes, sir.” The nanny nodded and left.
Marie glanced around, then asked, “Is your wife home?”
“I’m widowed, too.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Her heart twisted. How long had little Luke lacked a mommy’s love?
Peter put both of the boys down, then held Marie back. “Please let them have time together. Don’t rush Luke. He’s shy, and you don’t want to scare him. He’s been taught not to go near strangers.”
Marie shot him a pained look.
Peter gently squeezed her arm and urged, “Give him time. It’ll be worth it—I promise.” He frowned a few minutes later. He and she still stood side by side in tense silence while the boys played with toys and ignored one another. “Why won’t they play together?”
Kneeling on the floor, Marie stated softly, “I work in a day care, so I see this all of the time. Kids this age do what’s called parallel play. They play alongside of one another and sense companionship, but they don’t necessarily interact. In a while, they will.” She turned back to Ricky and laughed as he worked the jack-in-the-box.
Luke let out an unholy screech and grabbed for the toy. “Mine!”
“Share!” Ricky yelled back.
“Let’s take turns,” Marie intervened. “Ricky, it’s Luke’s turn next.” She slowly reached out to the son she’d never held. Her heart almost beat out of her chest as he stared at her with wide blue eyes. He turned his gaze toward his father and received a nod of approval. Very tentatively, he drew closer.
Lord, he’s all I have left of Jack. You already instilled a mother’s love for him in my heart. Please, Father, stir the love of a son in his heart for me.
Marie wanted to grab him and hold him close, but she knew she’d spoil everything if she did. Summoning control she didn’t know she possessed, she gently hitched the children by their waists and held one on each knee. In her softest voice she prompted, “Okay, Luke, show me how to do it.”
She wanted to squeeze him silly. She wanted to cover his dear little face with kisses and vent the laughter and tears that warred within her breast. She couldn’t do any of that—not here, not now. She felt Peter watching how she handled both boys. Glancing at him, she cocked a brow as if to ask what he thought.
“He doesn’t usually take kindly to strangers. He kicks up a royal fuss.”
“Really?”
Marie remained motionless as Luke curiously raised a finger to trace her dimple, then she took his finger and guided him to touch one of his own. Afterward, she took that finger and drew it toward her face. Suddenly, she turned her head and gobbled up his arm and neck. He dissolved into gales of laughter.
“Me, too!” Ricky demanded, and she pulled him right into the fun.
To Marie’s amazement, Peter Hallock forced out a lion’s roar. He disregarded his beautifully tailored, visibly expensive suit and pounced from the sofa. Both boys shrieked, and Peter grabbed Luke. He tossed him in the air, caught him amidst squeals of joy, and then did the same to Ricky. He lay on the floor and wrestled gently with the boys. They piled all over him, wiggled and kicked and screeched. Marie giggled, but her mirth came to a quick halt as Luke pressed a sloppy peck on his father’s cheek.
Marie went stark still. She felt the blood drain from her cheeks, and her stomach plunged to the hardwood floor.
Peter stopped chortling, sat up and leaned closer. “Marie?”
Fearing she was going to be sick, she dipped her head and rasped, “Give me a minute.”
“Marie, I know this is hard. Take a few deep breaths.” He knelt directly in front of her and cupped both of her shoulders, as if to brace her. “That’s right. Take your time.”
A few minutes passed, and Marie earned an approving nod from him. “There. Much better,” he said softly. She struggled to contain her feelings. Countless emotions flickered across his features. He cradled her cheek in one hand, and the other slid off to feather her hair back from her temple. “Marie, I know this is hard, but I don’t understand what happened. You were okay one minute, and then…what’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong? That’s my baby! He’s mine and he doesn’t even know me. He calls you Daddy. He’s never even kissed me.” Her trembling whisper finally cracked and she said, “He should have played with Jack.”
“You’re right.” The agreement whispered between them.
“He looks like Jack, too. Through the eyes. And the shape of his lips. The right arch of his lip is just a shade higher.” She drew in an aching breath. “Jack would have been so proud.”
Peter’s eyes glowed with love. For all the horror of the moment one thing came across very clearly—he cherished his son. “Luke is a very special child, Marie. Of course Jack would have been proud. I’m sure he was proud of Ricky, too.”
“Oh, he adored him! He had father-son portraits taken just the week before…the week before…”
“I understand,” he said, saving her from saying the words she found so difficult. “I’d like copies of those pictures, Marie. I’ll duplicate my favorite pictures of Luke for you, too. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Peter gave her a bolstering smile when she nodded.
“Mommy, I’m hungreeee!” Ricky stood next to Peter and gave her an accusing look.
“Yeah, tiger,” Peter chuckled, “I’ll bet you’re always hungry. A lady is going to bring us lunch in a minute.”
Gathering her wits, Marie tugged her rumpled dress down a few inches to her knees. “That’s not necessary.”
“But it would be nice.” Peter slipped his arm around Ricky’s hips and gave him a possessive squeeze. “I want you to stay. We ought to all get to know one another.”
“After lunch, we’ll need to leave. Ricky can nap in the car, but I have a fair drive home.”
“Where do you live?”
“Orange County.”
His jaw dropped, then his brows knit in vexation. “That’s over two hundred fifty miles away!”
Marie rubbed her forehead back and forth in line with the furrows. “I know. I said the same thing when I found out where you live. I’d hoped you lived much closer to the hospital. It’s halfway between us.”
“Why were you so far from home for delivery?”
“We lived in Melway at the time. Jack got a position down in Orange County, so we moved soon after I had Ricky.”
“I see,” he said tightly. “Where were you staying?”
“Staying?”
“Last night. Where did you spend last night?”
Marie gave him a puzzled look. “We were at home.”
Raking his hand through his hair, he scowled. “You drove all of the way up here this morning and plan to turn back around and go home again? That’s a ten-hour round-trip!”
“I have commitments.”
“What could possibly be more important than getting to know our sons?”
Marie took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and remembered how shocked and angry she’d been when she discovered the awful truth. Peter Hallock probably felt just as appalled.
“At least stay for the weekend.”
The lump in her throat worsened. The anguish in his eyes nearly took her breath away. She empathized. From the moment she’d discovered her son was elsewhere, she’d hungered to hold him. Peter Hallock clearly felt that same longing to be with his son. Her son. She said very quietly, “I can’t stay.”
“You can’t mean to dash off!”
Marie pulled a slip of paper from her pocket and extended her hand. “I’ve written my address and phone number down for you. Here. You can reach me anytime. My business number is there, too.”
Peter took the paper and barely glanced at it before slipping it into the pocket of his slacks. “Stay for lunch. We’ll come up with plans. We have to do something. I don’t want you to leave.”
“Ricky and I will have lunch with you and Luke.” She looked at her son—her biological son—and whispered, “I didn’t know it was going to be this hard.”
The housekeeper’s arrival cut short Peter’s response. The aproned woman pushed in an elegant, inlaid wood tea cart laden with four china plates and beverages. She proceeded to set the small trestle table over by the window with linen napkins. Marie thought she must be hallucinating. It looked like someone had clipped this scene straight from a soap opera. She glanced at Peter and Luke. Neither of them paid any attention to the housekeeper.
Marie gulped. A very ordinary woman who lived an average middle-class life, she knew she was in way over her head.
Peter nudged Luke toward the table, then plucked Ricky out of Marie’s arms. “We’ll have to get you a booster seat just like Luke’s. Today, you’ll sit on my lap.”
Marie hesitantly took the seat Peter pulled out for her, then looked at Ricky. He’d curled his fingers around Peter’s collar and grinned up at him, so she couldn’t very well protest, even though her heart twisted at the sight of them together. You knew you’d have to learn to share him. She daintily settled her napkin in her lap, then reached over to take Ricky’s outstretched hand. She cast a wary look at Peter.
He took Luke’s hand. “Do you normally say grace, too?”
She nodded. Too. That one word relaxed her a bit. At least they held some common ground. Building bridges between their families would be easier if they shared a foundation of faith.
Luke and Ricky singsonged, “God is great, God is good…” in a sweet duet, and Peter’s voice quickly blended with them. Marie finally caught up and added, “Amen!”
Peter’s intense stare made Marie shift in her seat. “What?”
“If you’re upset about missing church, you can attend ours.”
She broke eye contact and picked up her sandwich. “I’m so confused.” She put down the sandwich without taking a bite. “I’m torn between needing to stay and needing to go.”
“Staying is only right. There’s no question. You can’t tease me with one short hour of being with my—” he paused and shot a quick look at Luke, then back at Ricky. His voice vibrated with restrained emotion “—With my flesh and blood, then snatch him away!”
Despair flooded her. “I care for my sister. She was injured in an accident.”
He frowned. Marie wasn’t sure whether it was from vexation that she didn’t accede to his wishes at once or concern for Sandy. “How is she managing without you today?”
“She’s at the rehab facility. One of our church family is picking her up. He’ll keep her company at home until I get there.”
“Surely he can watch her overnight.”
Marie winced. “The gentleman involved isn’t exactly versed in giving her the particular type of care she’ll require.”
“That’s not a problem. We’ll call and arrange for a private nurse to stay with her tonight. You can’t leave.”
“Mr. Hallock,” she paused and watched as Peter playfully stuck an olive on Ricky’s thumb. Both of their faces lit with glee. Cuddling Ricky closer, Peter grabbed another olive and did the same to Luke. All three of them laughed. If it’s so cute, why do I want to cry?
Peter looked at her and raised his brows. “What were you going to say?”
“I know I said it before,” she whispered, “but this is even harder than I thought it was going to be.”
His smile faded. “We have to work together, Marie…for their sakes.”
“I know.”
He shook his head. “It’s so hard to believe. We’ve got a lot to do.” He accepted a carrot from Ricky. “First off, I—”
“I think,” she interrupted, “we’d be wise to not make any immediate decisions. It’s going to be complicated. Can’t we please have today to just share our sons?”
“That would be easier if you’d change your plan to flit out of here.”
She tried to calm down with a sip of iced tea, but it didn’t help. Her hand shook as she set the crystal goblet back down on the table. “Mr. Hallock—”
“Peter. It seems crazy to be formal when we’re going to be sharing kids.”
Marie dipped her head in acknowledgment. “Peter, I learned about this a week ago. The first day, I was in shock. You’re that way now. I’m falling apart, and you’re acting like nothing is wrong. In a day or two, the reality will hit you full force.”
“So you’re dropping a bomb, listening to it tick for a few minutes, then running before it detonates?”
She granted him a wobbly smile. His words were clever, but the reality hurt too much. Her eyes burned and her nose tingled with suppressed tears.
“Hey,” he said softly, “I’m sorry. That joke was in poor taste. I think you were incredibly brave to come here. I don’t know what I would have done.”
“I admit, I’m frazzled. I prayed all of the way here, but my focus was on the boys.” She shrugged. “I’m not ready to think about all of the consequences or plot a future course.”
“Okay. We’ll just concentrate on the guys today.”
Marie didn’t eat much. Her nerves were strung too tight. Nothing seemed to fit past the big ball in her throat. By the end of lunch, Luke started rubbing his eyes. Marie looked at Peter. “Would you mind if I tucked him in for his nap?”
He rubbed his chin on Ricky’s crown. “How ’bout if we let Ricky nap a while, too?”
“He naps well in his car seat. It might be easier if we slip out while they’re sleepy. If you’re free next weekend, why don’t you and Luke come for a visit?”
“Nothing is more important than this, Marie. We have to make a pact that the boys come first. I’ll clear my calendar and jump through whatever hoops I have to.”
Peter sat on the couch and held Ricky while Marie tucked in Luke by herself. Those few moments she spent alone with Jack’s little son were bittersweet. Even after he’d fallen asleep, she held him close to her heart. Finally, she whispered a prayer over him, slipped him onto his bed and covered him with a satin-edged baby blanket. One kiss wasn’t enough. The second and third were just as precious.
She knew she had to leave. It felt like a giant was reaching in and tearing her heart from her breast. Each step she took from his room and down the hall took monumental effort.
Peter rose from the couch as she reentered the playroom. Ricky lay in his arms like a boneless cat. He’d fallen asleep, just like Luke. “I’ll carry him out for you.”
She blinked back tears and reached out. “My arms feel too empty. Please—” To her relief, Peter relinquished Ricky.
Peter’s face was pale and taut. Marie suspected his composure was starting to crack. Part of her wanted to stay so he wouldn’t have to bear the anguish alone, but she had no emotional reserves and couldn’t do anything to lessen the impact of this disaster. Left alone, he’d at least keep his dignity.
She made it to the front door, but Peter pressed a hand to the oak panel, blocking her exit. “Marie—”
“Peter, you have to let us go.”
His troubled gaze held her captive. “For now—but things are far from resolved.”
Marie nodded. Ricky stirred and lifted his head. Marie shrank as Peter completely closed the few inches between them. Back pressed against the wall, she gulped and her eyes widened. Then his head dipped.
“Bye-bye, tiger. You’re a wonderful boy. I was so happy to meet you. I’ll see you again, soon.” He spoke the words very softly, very tenderly, before he kissed Ricky’s cheek and rumpled his hair. Genuine affection glowed in his eyes.
His sweetness to her son meant the world—until he whispered to her, “You take good care of him until I can.”
Chapter Three
The phone rang as Marie crossed the threshold. Too tired to care, Marie let go of Ricky’s hand and smiled wearily at her sister. “I don’t know how people commute long distances to work.”
Sandy gave her a sympathetic look, then glanced at the still-jangling phone and made a wry face. “You’d better answer that. Some guy named Peter has been calling every fifteen minutes for the last two hours. He’s frantic.”
“Great.” Marie rubbed her aching back as she headed for the phone. “Hello?”
“Marie! It’s eight forty-seven! You’ve been driving long past dark. What took you so long? Was there a problem?”
Her purse strap slid down from her shoulder, and Marie let her bag drop onto the battered, white kitchen counter with a muffled thump. Shoving her hair back from her forehead, she sighed, “We’re fine.”
“What took you so long?”
Peter’s voice sounded ragged with concern, but Marie didn’t want to think about him or his feelings at the moment. His parting words kept echoing in her head. You take good care of him until I can. All the way home, she’d worried that Peter meant to try to take Ricky away. She’d been so absorbed, she’d failed to look at the gauges and run out of gas.
“I said, we’re fine.”
“Thank heavens! Marie, your car is leaking oil. I saw a pool of fresh oil right where you were parked. I worried you broke down or something.”
“We made it home in one piece.”
“Good!” His sigh of relief flowed over the line.
Marie cleared her throat. “When I stopped to get gas, my license and cards were in the wrong places in my wallet.”
The line went silent.
“Mr. Hallock? I believe an answer is in order.” She could hear his steps as he paced back and forth on a hard surface someplace. The silence told her he was considering several possible explanations. That fact irked her. She wanted the truth.
“While you were in my house,” he said in a well-modulated tone, “the security officer did a search of the car and your purse. He copied your identification and put it back.”
I wanted him to be honest—but I also hoped he’d be honorable. Fatigue gave way to anger. “I’m so mad, I could spit nails! How dare you do such a thing!”
He made an impatient sound. “I didn’t have a choice! You have my son!”
“How am I supposed to respond to that?” She glanced behind herself to be sure Ricky wasn’t in the room. Taking care to lower her voice, she hissed, “Am I expected to scream that Ricky is mine, or do you want me to lay claim to Luke?”
Another silence ensued. Peter finally admitted, “That didn’t come out right. You were wise to leave. I’m starting to go nuts already, and I really don’t want anyone seeing me when I feel this out of control. I’m glad you got home safely. Good night, Marie.”
“Good night, Peter.” Marie hung up the phone.
“Oh, sis! It sounds bad.” Sandy’s eyes held consolation as she maneuvered her wheelchair closer. When her chair came to a halt, she pushed her headband back to restrain a fall of sun-bleached blond hair.
“I’ve opened Pandora’s box.”
“I told you to get a lawyer or a private investigator. You could have at least let one of the guys on the force run a sheet on Peter Hallock.”
Marie compressed her lips and tried to ignore the storm of emotions raging inside her. She hadn’t wanted to get anyone else involved. She didn’t have money to hire professional help, and it felt creepy to ask one of Jack’s old buddies to pull strings. Any number of them would have done so in a heartbeat. Now she wished she would have.
“What’s he—your real, biological son—like?”
Marie flopped down on her brown tweed couch. She gave Ricky a vague smile as he came out of the bathroom. “Go get your jammies, Rick. It’s bedtime.”
“So?” Sandy prompted as Ricky disappeared into his room.
“He’s beautiful, Sandy. Beautiful. His eyes are blue, but they’re shaped just like Jack’s. His mouth is, too. He looks like a cherub. He’s a few inches shorter than Ricky, but maybe a bit stockier.”
“What did they name him?”
“Luke.” She closed her eyes. “My day was a disaster. How was yours?”
“Rehab went well. They’re pushing me to join an independent living group. Do you think I’m ready?”
“I think you will be soon.” Marie accepted the race-car-printed flannel pajamas she’d made and helped Ricky into them. Ordinarily, he’d try to change all on his own, but after a long, trying day, he’d come out to seek her help and reassurance. She gave him an extra hug after she buttoned his shirt.
While Ricky stayed in the living room with them, she and Sandy took care to discuss Sandy’s future instead of the catastrophic events of the past week. Marie wanted to shield her son from as much of the ordeal as she could until the adults all managed to iron out the issues. She’d never imagined her sweet little tyke would be in the line of fire as he’d been today. The memory left her shaken—and more than willing to distract herself with the exciting prospects opening up for Sandy.
“My physical therapist said I’ve stabilized,” Sandy said as she whizzed in and out of the kitchen. She brought a pair of Red Delicious apples.
“You’ve worked hard,” Marie praised. “I’m really impressed by how much you can do.”
They discussed the merits of such a plan as they shared the apples with Ricky for a bedtime snack. Marie tucked him into his bed. He mumbled a nighttime prayer and fell asleep at once.
The minute Marie came back into the living room, Sandy demanded, “Okay. Now that he’s in bed, give me the scoop.”
“I’m in big trouble.” Marie sank onto the couch, stared straight ahead at the brick fireplace and sighed. “Peter Hallock is rattled. From what I gather, he’s an administrator at a hospital—powerful. Rich, too.” She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “To top it off, he’s possessive. When I left, he told me to take good care of Ricky until he can.”
Sandy’s jaw dropped. “You have to be kidding me!”
“Nope.” Marie wearily propped her feet up on the coffee table.
“He’s nuts! What did you do?”
“I got out of there as fast as I could.”
“So he’s going to be ugly?”
“I can’t say. It wouldn’t be fair to judge that yet. Sandy, I’m just sick about it all. I know he is, too.”
“What’s his wife like?”
“He’s widowed.” Other than that fact, he hadn’t alluded even once to his wife. Marie tried to rub away her headache and wanted to pretend nothing had happened. “Let’s get you ready for bed. You know, I didn’t see Brent when I came in. I wanted to thank him for helping you.”
“I thanked him.”
Marie stopped and gave her sister a searching look. “Oh? That sounds interesting.”
Sandy grinned. “We thought so.”
“What are you telling me?”
“He asked me out to lunch after church. We’re going on a picnic. He said he’s tired of pretending to be my buddy. His kiss backed up that claim, too.”
“Wonderful!” Marie gave her a hug. “What will you wear?”
They chattered about that issue as Marie helped Sandy transfer from her wheelchair to bed. She’d learned all of the necessary skills to take care of Sandy since she’d hurt her back in a freak surfing accident. With the passage of time and rehabilitation, Sandy had regained most of the use of her arms. She needed to build up more muscle strength so she could move herself independently, but she was nearly to the point of being able to care for herself with a minimum of help.
Marie changed and crawled into the other bed in the same room. As she curled up under the blankets, she tried to block the image of a large, mahogany-haired man reaching for Ricky.
You take care of him until I can. Until I can… His words kept echoing in her mind. Marie shuddered and dragged the covers up higher.
She sensed Peter Hallock dearly loved children. The protective urge he’d shown at the outset with Luke now extended toward Ricky, too. What had he meant, the Hallocks are never losing another child? Had there been a kidnapping? A murder? Was Luke safe? Tired and worried as she felt, Marie didn’t sleep well.
Peter’s nerves stretched taut. Darlene took their baby when she left him; yesterday, as Marie left with Ricky, the landslide of feelings and memories nearly buried Peter. Peter tried to book a flight to Orange County last night, but the galling fact that John Wayne airport closed at ten each night foiled his plan. This morning’s whole flight down seemed to go in slow motion, and Peter got unaccountably impatient with the rental agency when his car wasn’t ready as promised.
He swerved and focused his attention on the road again. Marie had better be an easygoing hostess, because he was dropping in without warning. If he called again, he’d only put his foot in his mouth. He even missed the freeway turnoff to her place and needed to backtrack.
Marie lived in an older tract neighborhood where it looked like an unimaginative architect had taken a pair of cookie cutters to design only two floor plans. Places of this vintage invariably needed upkeep, but most carried the air of being well-tended.
Peter pulled up to the curb and gave the pink, purple and white flowers edging her yard an assessing look. The mailbox out in front of her house bore a shiny gold icthus. Instead of steps, a wooden ramp led to the front door. Painted along the widest side beam was a verse he recognized. “As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.” Clearly, yesterday’s lunchtime prayer wasn’t a mere ritual. Marie lived her faith. Good thing she does. Only God will be able to solve this for us.
He swept Luke out of the car seat, strode up the ramp and rang the doorbell.
Tired of being confined by the flight and his car seat, Luke wiggled. “Want down.”
“Okay.” Peter set him on the porch, and he immediately scampered off and grabbed for a marble-blue plastic ball that rested against the garage.
A young woman in a wheelchair opened the door. Her beaming smile and “Hi!” took Peter off guard. So did the sight of Marie, barefoot, in a pair of walking shorts and a cherry-red T-shirt. Oblivious to his arrival, she and Ricky screeched and giggled as she chased him into the corner with the hose attachment of a noisy vacuum cleaner. Peter’s uneasiness evaporated.
“Can I help you?”
He refocused on the woman in the wheelchair. She had to be Marie’s sister. Her wheelchair was one of the slick customized jobs, cueing him in to the fact that the injury to which Marie had alluded was significant and permanent. He cleared his throat. “I’m Peter Hallock. You must be Sandy.”
She’d already cocked her head and gazed at him suspiciously. The moment he confirmed his identity, her face grew wary. “I don’t think you should have come here, Mr. Hallock. Ricky is ours.”
He gave no reply. Marie switched off the vacuum. Though Ricky continued to shriek with glee, Peter noted Marie’s laughter died the moment she spied him. Her eyes narrowed and she studied him for a second before she quickly pivoted, as if to block his access to the little boy. Clearly, this mother was protecting her young. Peter wanted to protest—but in that moment, he realized he’d managed to scare her. He’d instilled in her the selfsame sickening fear he lived with—that someone was going to harm or take away a very precious child. The thought appalled him.
Marie patted her son on the backside. “Go to your room. Put away Noah and the animals. Mommy will come check on you in a minute.” She waited until Ricky obeyed and was safely out of sight before she walked to the door. “I’ll take care of this, Sandy.”
Her sister didn’t budge. She kept her chair in place as a barrier and looked like a bulldog. “You don’t have to talk to him.”
“I know I don’t.” Marie glanced over her shoulder, as if to reassure herself Ricky was safely out of reach, then turned back toward him. “Mr. Hallock, I’ll be hiring an attorney on Monday. You’ll be contacted thereafter. Do you have a lawyer yet?”
“I was hoping we could share an attorney.”
She gave him an incredulous look.
Sandy scoffed, “There’s a great idea. I can already see who would end up the victor.”
Marie put her hand on her sister’s shoulder. Was it a move to silence her, or to protect and side with her? “If you wait at the foot of the ramp, Mr. Hallock, I’ll get you a few pictures of Ricky.”
Peter noticed she still didn’t look him in the eye, and that bothered him. Sandy’s bitter words took him off guard, too. Still, he had no right to complain. He refocused his attention. “Luke, come back here!”
“Luke!” Marie’s face transformed at once. She scrambled past her sister and plowed down the ramp. She swung Luke in a big circle, then cuddled him close. Head tilted so she could rub her cheek in Luke’s soft hair and relish every last inch of contact, she turned her gaze to Peter. “You brought him!”
Peter felt a jumble of emotions. A stab of jealousy pierced him. Then, too, anger hit. How dare she think he’d leave Luke behind? Ah, but the wariness on her face had been replaced by sheer joy.
Something tugged on his shirt. Sandy laughed. “Hey, would you mind moving? That’s my nephew down there.”
Peter stepped aside. As Sandy rolled over the threshold, Marie brought Luke up the ramp. “Lookie, Luke! It’s Auntie Sandy!”
Luke grabbed fistfuls of Marie’s shirt and buried his face in her shoulder. Peter watched how Marie held him a bit more possessively. “It’s okay, punkin.” She smiled at Sandy. “He’s shy.”
“Compared to Ricky,” Sandy said, “anyone is shy.”
Peter felt relieved that they accepted Luke just as he was.
“Can I come out?” Ricky’s shout from the bedroom made them all laugh again.
The second Marie called her permission, Ricky rocketed out of his room and onto the porch. Peter caught him and held him tight. In that moment, every bit of doubt he’d held about coming south disappeared. He’d done the right thing.
“It’s getting kinda crowded,” Sandy said. “This porch isn’t made for family reunions.”
They went into the house and the joy suddenly dissipated, only to be replaced with awkwardness. For a brief pause, no one said a thing. Then, they all started to speak. “We didn’t—”
“I know—”
Marie and Peter both went silent as Sandy finished her statement. “Those kids look—” she hesitated as she looked from Peter to Marie, then finished “—like very good boys.”
Ricky poked himself on the chest a few times directly over a badge-shaped patch. “I’m a fireman!”
“You don’t got a hat,” Luke countered.
“I gots two.” Ricky wiggled, so Peter set him down. Luke followed suit, and they scrambled out of the room. Peter looked back at Marie and cleared his throat. “After you left, I got mad. Not at you—at Melway General. I called my lawyer. I’d like to discuss what he said.”
Sandy piped up, “How ’bout if I take the boys for a walk?”
Marie’s shoulders melted with obvious relief. “That would be great! Thanks.”
Ricky, wearing a plastic fire helmet, came back into the room. Luke trailed along behind him. Instead of a hat, he sported a toy tool belt. Peter wasn’t sure if Sandy could handle one kid, let alone two, but how could he diplomatically ask? He watched as Luke tentatively ran his hand over a wheel of her chair. Sandy didn’t reach for him. Instead, she leaned a bit closer and asked in a quiet, sweet voice, “I’m going to take Ricky to the park. He rides in my special chair with me. We’ll take a bag with juice and cookies. Do you want to come?”
Luke shook his head. Peter was secretly glad he did. Ricky grabbed a lumpy canvas bag from a nearby shelf. As he dragged it over, one of the straps caught Sandy’s foot and pulled it off her wheelchair’s footrest. “Hey, buster! No fishing in these waters.”
Ricky untangled the webbed strap, then hooked the bag over the handles of Sandy’s chair. His intense concentration struck Peter as both adorable and a sign of his intelligence.
Sandy tried to use her hands to tug her pant leg so she could lift her foot, but her shoe got stuck between the footrests. Peter knelt and slipped Sandy’s foot back in place. “Are you always this fun to be with?”
“Not by a long shot. Four months ago, I strongly contemplated suicide. Marie managed to keep me patched together and dragged me to church until I got my head screwed on straight. I decided landing in a wheelchair was a disaster, but it wasn’t the worst thing that ever happened. If anything, it made me take stock of my life and change things for the better. Marie made me face things and helped me get through. She’s got a knack for doing that.”
“You sisters are quite a twosome.”
“She’s the loyal one. I’m the deserter. After all, I’m leaving her with you right now.” Sandy straightened her clothes and looked at him intently. “Marie would eat ground glass before she ever left me with a guy who wanted my kid.”
Peter looked up at her somberly. “I’d never intentionally hurt either of them.”
“I know. Before I ever let Marie go, I called and had one of Jack’s friends on the force run a sheet on you. You came out totally clean.”
“Sandy!” Marie gasped.
“Hey, you can’t blame me! This guy could’ve been dangerous. I wasn’t willing to risk you or Ricky.” The little boy scrambled up onto Sandy’s lap. She dipped her head and rubbed her nose to his in an Eskimo kiss. “We’ll be back soon. Behave yourselves.” She set her wheelchair into motion.
As it rolled down the ramp, Ricky started making fire-engine siren sounds.
Peter turned to Marie and cocked a brow. “So she ran a check on me.”
“You had your security guard search my car and purse!”
“True.” He couldn’t quell a grin at her outrage. “Are we even?”
Marie shook her head adamantly. “Nothing, but nothing, is as bad as a purse search! Half of my life is in that bag!”
“I see…” he mused. He chuckled and couldn’t resist. “I think you lied about your height on the driver’s license. You’re at least two inches—”
She wheeled around. “I didn’t, but you looked!”
“Nope. Honest, I didn’t. I was tempted, but I didn’t. It was a stupid way of me trying to break the tension.” He forked his fingers through his hair. “This is all so unbelievable.”
The fire in her eyes went out and compassion replaced it. Quietly, she asked, “Would you and Luke care for some juice? Water?”
“Juice for him, please. Do you have any coffee?”
“I’m out of it right now. Sorry.”
“Okay. Juice will do.” He hefted Luke and ventured, “I’ll bet this little guy would rest if we laid him down. I gave him a decongestant so his ears would clear on the plane. It makes him sleepy, but he’s getting over another ear infection, so I didn’t have much of a choice.”
“Poor guy. Let’s tuck him into Ricky’s bed.” They coaxed Luke out of the tool belt and laid him down. As they left the bedroom, Marie said, “I’ve heard ear infections are brutal.”
“He’s had them constantly since birth. Hasn’t Ricky?”
She shook her head. “No, breastfed babies rarely get them.”
It took every shred of discipline to keep from zeroing in on her T-shirt. “You nursed my son?”
“My son. Or at least I thought he was.” She folded her arms across her chest and her cheeks turned the same cherry-red as her shirt. “Didn’t your wife want to?”
“My wife died as a result of a car accident. The doctors at Melway General delivered our child as a last-ditch effort.”
Marie gave him a startled look. “That’s why you were so adamant about not letting me go! I was pretty surprised.”
He nodded. “Probably. Some wounds don’t heal very easily.” His gaze slid over her face. “Your reaction to the guns yesterday was probably magnified because of how your husband died.”
“We’ve both stumbled onto each other’s vulnerabilities, haven’t we?”
“Let’s make allowances for that and try to start over.”
She nodded hesitantly.
“So tell me why Ricky is crazy about firefighters when your husband was a cop.”
“Sandy mail-ordered a costume and the truck for Christmas. It’s grown into a full-blown fascination. I bought a bunch of patches that look like badges and added them to his shirts just to save my sanity.”
They walked into the kitchen. Peter passed the round oak table and noted a dinky acrylic holder full of tiny, colorful paper strips. A pale blue one lay on the table. Lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the earth. That Bible promise seemed particularly apropos. Ever since Marie’s revelation, he felt like he stood teetering on the edge of the safe, happy world he’d built for himself and his son. He needed to be reminded the Lord was with him—with them—in the midst of this earth-shattering mess.
“You mentioned consulting an attorney.” Marie took two green striped glasses from the cupboard. “So what happens next?”
“So far, we’re basing everything on simple blood type and deductive reasoning. We’ll undoubtedly have to have DNA testing done to confirm the boys were swapped. We could go the rapid route and have an answer back in a couple of days, but since things will get sticky, I’d rather spare the boys a second blood draw and have all of the specimens go through the full battery.”
“It sounds to me like you still aren’t convinced there was a switch.”
Peter frowned. “On the contrary. As far as I’m concerned, doing the lab work is a mere formality. I always thought Luke looked like my wife until you came along, Marie. Now I know he has to be yours. The similarity is stunning—just like the match between Ricky and me. Even a fool could plainly see whose child is whose.”
“But everyone else will demand proof.”
He nodded. “This week we’ll all have to get to a lab, but for the sake of streamlining things, I’m going to assume our suspicions are a confirmed fact.”
“Okay.” Her hand shook as she poured the orange juice. “I’ll have the doctor call in an order to the lab. Ricky and I can go after work on Monday.”
Peter had thought about having them all go in and getting the blood drawn at a clinic today, but he could see that wouldn’t be wise. He’d rattled her badly enough yesterday, and he still had something on the agenda that meant more to him at the present. He cleared his throat.
“Did you need something?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. I want to spend the weekend. I went crazy without Ricky last night.”
Marie gave him a stricken look. “You can’t get possessive like that, Peter.”
“He’s my son, Marie.”
“And Luke is my son.” Marie could see the strain in his eyes. She drew in a deep breath to steady her nerves and whispered a quick prayer for wisdom. She wanted her voice to stay strong, even though everything inside quivered like pudding. Quickly, before her words would quaver, she shoved his glass at him. “It’s practically tearing me apart, but I’m trying hard not to make any demands and to be scrupulously fair.”
“I think you ought to come live with me.”
Chapter Four
Her own glass slipped from her fingers and shattered on the floor. Marie ignored it as she gaped at him.
“Did you cut yourself?” Peter carefully walked on the clean spots between the glass and juice. He wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her onto the counter.
She practically shrieked, “Live with you?”
“Yes. You’re a mess. Swing around here and put your feet in the sink so you can rinse the juice off of your legs and feet.”
Stunned, Marie sat there and looked at him as if he’d suddenly sprouted cloven hooves. “I can’t live with you!”
“Marie, take care of your legs, then we’ll see to the other issues. Where’s your trash?”
She mutely pointed at a cabinet. Turning around, Marie followed his suggestion and put her feet in the sink. Rinsing off took no time at all, but she sat on the counter and stared at the water as it cascaded over her feet. Clearly, Peter Hallock wasn’t going to be a take-things-slowly kind of man. He blazed his own path; she carefully considered and weighed her options. That personality difference wasn’t going to make coping with the situation any easier. Lord, this would be a great time for a miracle. If You’re not dispensing those, then that wisdom I just requested? Please double it and add on a side order of patience!
“Are you okay?”
His concern jarred Marie out of her prayer. She turned off the water. “I’m fine. Please hand me a towel.”
He tossed a dishcloth to her. “There you go.” Gingerly, he picked up large shards of glass and put them in the trash, then sopped up most of the remainder of the mess with a few paper towels. “Your floor is going to be sticky.”
“I planned to mop it today, anyway.”
“I’ll mop it.”
“No, thank you.” His offer surprised her. “I’ll sponge it for now and take care of it after Ricky goes down for his nap. He’ll slip on a wet floor.”
“I hoped we could use that quiet time to talk through some plans.”
Marie gave him a stern look. “Peter, I don’t know exactly what you have in mind, but I’m not ready to pull up stakes and move. I have a steady job and, though it may not compare in any way to your mansion, this is my home. I have ties to the community, and stability is important to me. It’s vital in a small child’s life, and I’d be a fool to give all of that up because you snap your fingers.”
“I’m not asking for myself. I’m asking because I firmly believe it’s in the boys’ best interests.”
Marie took a deep breath in a vain attempt to settle her nerves. The man was as calming as a stick of lit dynamite.
“If your concern is for Sandy, let me assure you, she’d be welcome. My home is big enough, and since it’s a single story, she’d have full access to the whole place. Think of it. You could stop working and spend all day with the boys. You’d have more time to work with Sandy, too.”
Marie twisted sideways. She concentrated on rubbing her feet dry and tried to block out the temptation of his offer. She shook her head and whispered, “We can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Can’t we come up with another option? Maybe have a weekend together, then swap kids for the next weekend or something?”
“That’s too disruptive and awkward.” Several glass shards clinked as he dropped them into the trash. He turned and gave her a level gaze. “You’re the one who just pointed out how important stability is.”
“It’s morally wrong, Peter.”
“Your sister will be there! Isn’t that enough?”
“We’re total strangers!”
“It wouldn’t take long for that problem to be resolved.”
“Stop it. Just stop!” She wanted to turn back the hands of time and make it so she’d have never discovered the baby swap. But then I’d never have seen Luke….
“We can’t just sit around and do nothing, Marie.”
“There isn’t any big hurry,” she countered.
“If you really like working outside the house, Anne can handle the boys. All of my sisters work, Marie. If you enjoy having a job, we’ll find something up there that you like.”
“You’re trying to tempt me, and you’ve tossed in everything a woman might hope for, but, Peter, it’s still wrong. I can’t go against my moral code. It’s a terrible message for the boys, and we still don’t know how well they—or we—will get along. I’d be a fool to accept this cockamamie plan.”
Peter had finished up cleaning the floor. He planted his hands on the counter on either side of her. His eyes searched hers for a long count. “You’re going to have to work with me. What is it you want, Marie?”
Nervously crushing the dishcloth into a ball, she blurted out, “I want the nightmares to stop!”
Peter took the dishcloth from her and set it off to the side. He slid his hand over hers. “Tired of it all?”
She bit her lip and nodded. Blinking madly, she pleaded, “Don’t get me started crying. I can’t do that.”
“But, Marie, in less than two years you’ve suffered not one, but three staggering blows. Think about it. You’ve lost your husband, your sister got injured and became totally dependent on you and you’ve discovered your son isn’t yours. How are you supposed to cope? I think you’re more than entitled to sob your guts out.”
She averted her face. “It upsets Ricky and Sandy too much,” she whispered thickly. “I need to be strong for them.”
Peter gently tilted her face and forced her to look back at him. In a low, insistent tone, he asked, “But, Marie, who’s strong for you?”
Chapter Five
The obnoxiously loud buzzer on the dryer sounded. Startled, Marie jumped. “I have to get that.”
His hands immediately went to her waist. He gently squeezed, then pulled her to the edge of the counter and lifted her down. She shivered from the contact—or was it from the emotions shimmering just below the surface that he’d almost bared? He didn’t know. Clearly, Marie was a woman of great depth, but she guarded her heart just as closely as she guarded her child.
“You do too much,” Peter decided aloud a few minutes later as he watched her sit on the couch and fold clothes. The vacuum cleaner still rested in the corner, and a grocery list lay beneath a toy car on the coffee table.
“I do what every other mother does. I’m not complaining.”
His hands itched to pull away the laundry basket and make her stop taming the jumbled clothes into neatly folded squares. The intense concentration she aimed at the simple task seemed ridiculous—but then he realized she was trying to get lost in the rhythm of a familiar task so her life wouldn’t feel so chaotic.
“How can I get you to reconsider, Marie? I really want you to move in with Luke and me.”
The distinctive fragrance of fabric softener drifted in the room as Marie folded a pair of Ricky’s pants with jerky motions. They look just the same as the pairs in Luke’s drawers—same pint size, same style, same fold. That odd fact strengthened his resolve.
“I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work, Marie.”
“There’s nothing you can do. I’m not about to change my mind.” The next few garments were disciplined into perfection under her moves.
“I’m not trying to put you on the defensive, Marie. It’s the best option available, especially since we live several hours apart with the wrong biological kids.”
“Give me other possibilities, Peter.”
He sat opposite her and let out a heavy sigh. “We can trade. We each keep the child we’ve been rearing during the week, then switch them on the weekend.”
“That’s pretty disruptive. As soon as they start school and ball teams that won’t work.”
Peter reached up and rubbed the awful knot of tension at his nape. “Let’s try to limit our plans to the present.”
She nodded and smoothed a collar on a tiny, golden yellow rugby shirt.
“I could have them both one weekend, then you could have them the next.”
“I don’t think that’s workable—at least not now.” She tilted her head to the side a bit and shot him a rueful look. “Luke is too shy, and Ricky hasn’t ever been away from me.”
“All of that is probably valid, but I like the idea of them being together. Right now, you and I are feeling the impact of this whole mess, but in later years, they will. I want them to have each other. No one else could possibly understand how this upheaval will affect them.”
Marie’s fingers curled into the little shirt, and she unconsciously brought it up and crushed it to her heart. She looked at him, her eyes pleading. “I could keep both boys down here during the week, then bring them up for the weekends—”
“No!” Peter scowled. “I’m not one of those cardboard fathers. I take my place in my son’s life—in my sons’ lives—seriously. That plan makes it impossible for me to see my sons each day!”
Marie bit her lip. Blinking furiously, she set the shirt aside. Her hands shook terribly and tears shimmered in her eyes. Finally she whispered unsteadily, “No matter what we do, we’re not going to be able to see both of them on a daily basis.”
“If it upsets you so much, Marie, why don’t you accept my offer?”
Raw pain ravaged her features, twisted her mouth and leeched the color from her cheeks. In a low, pained rasp, she asked, “How can I? I don’t know you at all. We’re total strangers.”
“We’re both motivated. We could make it work.”
She shook her head. “You’ve been masterful at this, Peter. I can see why you’re so successful. You’ve enticed me with everything I could want. The temptation is incredible—to have both boys all of the time, to be able to help Sandy more. You offered me everything my heart longs for—but it goes against my soul.”
Peter winced. She certainly knew how to hit the bull’s-eye. He tried to hide his feelings by momentarily cranking his head to the side. He drew in a steadying breath, then turned back. “You’re mobile. I’m not. I’m locked into a five-year contract with the hospital.”
“Sandy’s doctors and rehab experts are down here. She’s made such good progress.”
“I guarantee you the rehab department at my place is top-notch. If you came up there, Sandy would get excellent attention, and I’ll put in whatever equipment she needs or adapt her room so she’ll be comfortable.”
Marie shook her head. “It’s not just a matter of physical care. Tomorrow she’s supposed to go out on her first date since the accident. At some point in the fairly near future, she’ll move into a living center, but until then, I can’t abandon her, and I can’t take her away from here.” She pulled another of Ricky’s little shirts from the basket and shook it out, almost as if the action were sketching an exclamation point to the end of her assertion.
Peter groaned, “Solomon had it easy. Those two women only brought one kid to him.”
“He had God’s blessing and wisdom, too,” Marie tacked on.
“We’re both believers. God can and will grant us wisdom if we ask.”
The little shirt rumpled into a messy knot in Marie’s hands. “I’ve been praying for His wisdom and will, but I still don’t have any sense of direction. I don’t want you to put pressure on me to act in haste.”
“I’ll try my best. Look—you’re understandably distraught, but I want you to know it’s not my intent to make things harder on you.”
“You just want to make them easier on yourself—even though it costs me everything.”
“But you’ll gain seeing Luke every day.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” she cried. “But I refuse to be reliant on your whims and goodwill. I can’t leave this house. Jack bought it for me. He was fixing it up on his days off. It’s all I have left.”
“Why don’t you look at me?” He didn’t understand her aversion to him. It stung.
Swallowing hard, as if trying to dislodge the huge ball in her throat, Marie confessed, “You look too much like Ricky. I love his dear little face, and when I see you…” She shrugged.
“It’s confusing,” he finished softly. He gently set the shirt aside and folded her hand between both of his. “You look so much like Luke, it takes my breath away. Because of it, I feel as if I already know more about you than two short meetings would yield. My impulses to protect, keep and touch you probably come from that.”
“But you can’t be that way. You can’t act like an authoritative parent and dictate what happens. I won’t accept it. It’s a struggle to wait for God’s will, but that’s far better than rushing to make decisions I’ll regret later.”
Peter’s brows knit in consternation that she still wore her wedding ring. After his wife died, he’d jerked off his band and known beyond a shadow of a doubt he’d never replace it. He kept Marie’s hand encased in his and slowly rubbed up and down the length of the back of her slender fingers. He’d barely kept his marriage patched together; Marie still hadn’t even let go. This woman honors her commitments at all costs. Such devotion!
“I don’t know what I want or expect,” she admitted. “I prayed for wisdom and guidance, but that prayer hasn’t been answered yet.”
“It sounds to me like that prayer was more for the situation than it was for the feelings and dynamics between us.” He curled his fingers so he engulfed her hand. “Until yesterday, Luke and I were just names to you. Now we’re real people. These things take time, Marie.”
She finally looked up at him. “If they take time, how can you want us to move in with you now?” She slowly pulled her hand from his grasp. “I don’t know you at all, and I’m not sure how to interpret this situation…between us, you know…?”
“What don’t you understand? This isn’t a time to mince words, so I’m going to be forthright. I’m financially more than comfortable, Marie. You and Ricky can simply move in and—”
Color filled her cheeks. “I won’t live with a man to whom I’m not married.”
Peter decided to ease off a bit. He’d come here with that one plan and it seemed so direct and simple. A business deal. They’d be platonic roommates who shared their kids. No fuss, no nonsense, no emotional attachment between the two of them. No chance he’d ever let her close enough to hurt him. Clearly, he needed to spell it out. “I’m not trying to offend you, Marie. If you thought I was using the boys as a means to seduce you—”
The faint wash of color in her cheeks cued him in that he’d just jumped feetfirst into a sensitive topic and needed to be a shade less blatant.
“Marie, let me put your mind at ease. I’m not suggesting anything immoral at all. Sandy would come, too. You’ll have your own bedroom—one with a lock on the door so you can have peace of mind—and I’ll respect your privacy.”
She signed deeply. “I still can’t agree with your plan. I can’t live with a man—even if it is platonic.”
Peter sighed. Bitter memories of his wife surfaced. Darlene wasn’t willing to get married at first. Neither of them had been Christians. Because he loved her, he agreed for her to move in with him for almost a year until he could convince her marriage held any importance. The wedding was more a formality and capitulation than a true commitment on her part. It wasn’t until he’d lost her and started to rear Luke that Peter began going to church or paid much attention to old-fashioned morals. He wondered if Marie was as conservative as she seemed. He tried to delicately fish for information. “Your notions are pretty traditional. Have you always—”
“Let me save you from walking on eggshells. I’m very old-fashioned. I was twenty-two when Jack and I got married. We were very much in love, but we waited until our wedding night because it was the right thing to do. We conceived our child the second month of our marriage. He was a planned baby, and we were thrilled. After knowing the joy of a loving marriage, I’d never settle for anything less, so you can forget any plans for cohabitating—even if it is completely innocent.”
Peter fell back against the couch cushions. He gave her a lopsided, self-conscious smile. “I needed to know where you stood.”
“Now you know.” She gave him a wry look. “If you’re feeling that brazen, is there anything else you want to pry into?”
He spread his hands in a what-else-am-I-to-do? gesture. “This is a high-speed beginning. It isn’t conventional, but for the boys’ sakes, I think we have to hurdle over the usual constraints and forge a decent working relationship.”
“I’m accustomed to doing that with preschoolers. They’re a lot easier. They want to know if I have a pet and if I can hop on one foot. I’m not exactly the most coordinated person in the world, and you want me to jump hurdles!”
He chuckled. “Our cat ran away. I can hop on one foot, but I can’t skip. What about you?”
“We had a solemn burial for our goldfish last month.” When he quirked a brow, she nodded, “Prayers and porcelain. I can hop and I can skip. There? Does that satisfy your curiosity?”
“Not really, but it’s a start.” He gave her a boyish grin. “So far, I know you have a sister. What about your folks or Jack’s parents? Are there doting grandparents in Ricky’s world?”
“I have a stepfather, but he lives in Ohio. Jack’s parents are missionaries in Thailand. They write, and we send pictures.”
“So you’re doing it alone…unless you have a boyfriend?”
Marie blanched. “I’m not interested in dating.”
She looked like she needed a whole lot of space. He’d pushed her too far and gotten a wealth of personal information, so Peter decided to bail her out by giving her some basic information on himself. Reciprocating only seemed fair.
“Darlene’s parents aren’t involved at all. A Christmas picture is about all they want or expect. On the other hand, my folks are wild about Luke. Until now, he’s been their only grandchild. I have three sisters—all single and madly in love with him, too. I have one more sister out there somewhere. We still have investigators working on trying to find her. It’s been eighteen years. She was kidnapped when she was two. As for my personal status—I’m not dating anyone, either.”
He paused and noted how Marie stayed silent. Peter looked around her living room and back at her. “Marie, please forgive me,” he pleaded softly. “I know we got off to a ragged start, but I want us to get along.”
“I understand.” Compassion filled her voice. “It made me sick, exploding your happy little world.”
“You did the right thing. Why don’t we start from scratch? We can trade stories about the kids and ease into things a bit. With time, we’ll create ways to blend our families.”
Marie stacked all of the neatly folded clothes back into the laundry basket. “I’m not good at diving into relationships.”
He hunkered down and tried to take away the basket. “We have to make an effort to get along.”
She gnawed on her lip and nodded slowly. Her fingers released the basket into his keeping, and at that moment, he wondered if it was somehow symbolic of so many little things she’d inevitably be placing in his care. The way the muscles in her arms tensed, he could see she fought to keep from snatching it back. Was she thinking the same thing?
“Marie—”
At the sound of his voice, she jerked away. Peter knew she had more than enough cause to be wary, but it still nettled him. She needed a lot of cosseting, loads of reassurance and a gentle approach. With so much at risk, he’d do that. “I tell you what—let’s just keep the mix-up between ourselves for now. Luke doesn’t understand anything’s up. We can keep it a secret until the lab work gets back if Ricky doesn’t know the score.”
Her shoulders drooped with relief. “Other than yesterday, he’s been in the dark, and he was too upset then to catch on.”
Peter grinned. “Luke thinks aunt is part of my sisters’ names, so ‘Auntie Sandy’ didn’t hit his radar screen at all. So far, so good, right?”
She nodded.
“I saw your grocery list on the table. When Sandy comes back with Ricky, why don’t we all go do the marketing together?”
A tiny sparkle of humor glinted in her eyes. “Are you that desperate for coffee?”
Relieved that she’d recovered enough to tease him, he chuckled. “I will be by lunchtime.”
“Hmm. Addicted to caffeine?”
He propped the basket against his thigh and held up the other hand in a gesture of mock surrender. “I plead guilty. I’m pathetic. I love coffee—any kind of coffee—as long as it isn’t decaffeinated. In fact, while I’m confessing my darkest secrets, you may as well hear it straight from me—I’m just as bad when it comes to pie. I’ll eat anything served in a pie tin.”
“Anything?”
“Up ’til now. You name it, I’ve probably tried it.”
She cocked her head to the side and assessed him slowly. “Baked beans from a campfire?”
He perked up. “Do you like to camp?”
“Love to. I already bought Ricky a little backpack. We strap it on him, and he wears it around so he can carry a tiny bit of gear when I take him to Yosemite.”
“I love Yosemite.”
“My goal is to take him on a trip when he turns five. By then, Sandy will be out on her own and independent, so we can slip off without too much concern. Ricky enjoys going on walks, and he’d love to see the flowers and squirrels.” She paused, then added, “By that point, I have no doubt he’ll be able to swim and climb trees. Besides, he’s a trouper when it comes to walking. He doesn’t often ask me to carry him anymore.”
“Just as well. He’s a pretty good-sized tyke.” He smiled. “I used to do serious, backwoods survival hiking a couple of times a year. Since I lost Darlene, I stick to safer hobbies.”
Her hands fisted tightly. “Everything changes, doesn’t it?”
Peter set down the basket. Her hair looked as baby soft and fine as Luke’s. Though the same color as Luke’s, her eyes held the haunted cast of someone who suffered terrible heartache. He knew he’d only made her hurt more by being insensitive, and it bothered him. He wanted her to know he cared, and that he shared some of those same lonely feelings. Reaching over, he slowly took her fist into his hand and gently unknotted it as he spoke. “With a little one underfoot, you have to keep going, even when you feel like you can’t make it another minute more.”
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