by Beverly Long
Once back inside The Lodge, he decided to check in with his cousin Molly Gilford, who was the director of guest services for The Lodge. He stopped for two coffees on his way.
“How’s it going?” he asked, handing her a cup. She sat behind her desk that had three very orderly piles.
The ever-efficient, pretty blonde waved a hand. “Today’s crisis was missing jewelry, which had a frantic guest throwing around ugly accusations, frightening the staff. Also one very naughty twenty-two-month-old who was hiding it all in a deep pocket of her stroller. All’s well that ends well. How was your day?”
“Good. Had a full slate of classes because it was a teachers’ planning day. Took a couple of classes myself.”
“I think you were born on skis.”
“If that was true, I think my mom might have mentioned it,” he said easily. He’d come to pick Molly’s brain about Tilda but thought he better make a little small talk first. Didn’t want to appear to be too obvious. “Have you seen my friend Max Hollick lately?”
“Uh...no. Why?”
The question seemed to startle her. He’d served with Max, who was now putting his heart and soul into raising service dogs for veterans. “Just wondering. The last time I spoke with him, he mentioned that he’d stopped here a couple times over the last few years.”
“It’s been a few months since he was here,” she said, looking down at something on her desk. “We barely saw each other. So how are things in the Extreme Sports division?” she asked, switching topics fast.
“Good. It’s just temporary,” he said.
“I know, I know. Living in Roaring Springs isn’t your thing. You do realize that the rest of the family misses you?”
“I promise that regardless of where I end up, I won’t stay away as much as I have in the past thirteen—well, I guess, almost fourteen—years. Speaking of people who stuck around, I ran into Tilda Deeds the other day.”
“She’s still as pretty as ever, isn’t she?” Molly said. “When you guys were seniors, I was a sophomore, and I thought you were the cutest couple.” She winked at him. “Maybe you could start something up again.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so. Her son was in one of my classes on Sunday, and when she picked him up, she was as frosty as a north ridge on a January day.” He said it lightly but in truth, it had bothered him more than he was letting on. He’d really liked Tilda and on prom night, when they’d had sex, it had been the most amazing night of his life. He’d left her house in the wee hours of the morning feeling like a different person, somehow more whole.
She’d been so beautiful, with her flowing, dark hair and her flashing eyes. So damn sexy. So damn sweet as their bodies had joined.
“Frosty doesn’t sound like Tilda,” Molly said thoughtfully. “People love her. Especially her students. So sad that her husband died.”
Blaine managed a nod. What did it say about him that he was envious of a dead man that he’d never met?
“She’s too young to be alone,” Molly added.
“I suppose that could apply to any one of us,” he said. Molly. Tilda. Himself.
“I’m much younger,” she said. “Still in my twenties.”
“Barely,” he teased her, wanting to lighten the mood. He stood up. “I’ll see you later.”
He got to her office door before he turned around. “You don’t happen to know how old Tilda’s son is, do you?” He tried for casual.
“Let me think. I guess he’s probably about thirteen. His best friend is Isaac Trammell, and his mom buys groceries where I do. I saw her last week, and she mentioned that she was getting stuff for Isaac’s thirteenth-birthday party.”
Thirteen. The space between his ears was buzzing. Of course, just because Josh and Isaac were friends, it didn’t mean that they were the same age. But on Sunday, they’d been talking about a teacher, and it had sounded very much like they were in the same class.
Molly smiled at him. “Have a good night.”
“Right. You, too,” he said automatically. If Josh was also just thirteen, then Tilda must have gotten pregnant again right away.
Which was kind of weird, given that she hadn’t seemed all that happy about being pregnant the first time. He’d have assumed she might be super careful about preventing pregnancy, sort of like he’d been after that.
He remembered glancing at Josh, catching a fleeting glance of something so familiar.
A dark suspicion threatened to overtake him. But, like the soldier he’d been, he forced himself to clear his head and not jump to conclusions. When people did that in war, they sometimes made mistakes that had very serious consequences. This situation might not be all that different.
He turned the corner and almost bumped into Seth Harris. He was a manager at The Lodge and also his cousin Remy Colton’s maternal half-brother. “Sorry,” Blaine said, stepping aside.
“Nice to see you, Blaine. I’d heard that you were working at The Lodge,” Seth said.
Blaine wasn’t in a mood to make small talk, but from what he’d heard about Seth’s life, before Remy had taken him in when the kid was fifteen and Remy just twenty, he’d been dealt a bad hand. Remy and Seth shared a mother, Cordelia Ripley, who was never going to win Parent of the Year. Seth wasn’t a Colton, but he was obviously important to Remy, and once Seth finished business school, Remy had secured a job for his half brother at The Lodge. And based on what Blaine had heard, Seth did pretty good work. He dressed a little too trendy for Blaine’s taste, but then again, Blaine’s wardrobe for the last thirteen years had primarily been desert khaki. “Yeah, the late snow is keeping us all busy for a while.”
“Good to have family to come back to, right? You know, when things get tough,” Seth added. “Not everybody has that kind of safety net.”
There was an undertone to the remarks that bristled Blaine’s already stretched nerves. On another day, he might have been willing to push back, to remind Seth that the Coltons had been a safety net for him, too. But today, he had other things on his mind. “You bet,” he said. “I’ll see you later, Seth.”
He walked past the man. Josh had said that Tilda had to work until four. That meant that she’d probably arrive at The Lodge by four fifteen. He made a sharp right turn at the next hallway, and with ten minutes to spare, he was standing in the spot where he’d seen her on Sunday. But no sign of her. He didn’t see Josh or Isaac, either. He moved to a place where he could see the door where the kids would enter and also the hallway that Tilda would come from.
And he tried to breathe deep, to slow his heart rate.
At four twenty, when he was about to jump out of his skin, he saw Josh’s bright red coat outside. He and Isaac were taking a path that would lead them toward another door. He ran outside, ignoring that he didn’t have a coat on. He quickly caught up with the boys.
“Hey, Mr. Colton,” Josh said. “Didn’t expect to see you again.”
“On your way home?” he asked.
“Yeah. My mom said she’d meet us outside the main lobby.”
Because she was trying to avoid him? He fell into step with the boys. “Hey, I have some paper work I need to fill out about class participants. I need your ages.”
“Thirteen,” they both said at the same time. “Well, I’m almost thirteen,” Isaac corrected. “In a week. Josh already had his birthday a couple weeks ago.”
Blaine stared at Josh. Again, he thought of how the boy had reminded him of Decker. But what had everyone always said? That he and Decker had almost looked like twins when they were young.
Was it even possible?
They were within a hundred yards of the door that led to the main lobby. He could see Tilda standing outside, wearing the same bright blue coat that she’d had on before. As they got closer, he could tell that her eyes were fixed on him before she shifted them to her son.
She
reached for Josh, like she was going to hug him, but instead, patted his back. “How was your day?”
“Great,” Josh said. “Best day ever.”
She smiled, looking so much like the girl that he’d left all those years ago. But if his suspicions were right, then she wasn’t sweet and nice or any of the good things he’d always thought.
“Hello, Blaine,” she said.
“Afternoon,” he responded, working hard to keep his tone even.
“In the car, boys. We need to get going.” She took a step.
“Can I have a word, Tilda?”
She stopped, looking as if she wanted to make a run for it. Instead, she handed Josh the key fob. “Go ahead and get in. Do not start it,” she warned him.
She watched the two boys until they got to a tan SUV. Then turned to look at him. Her pretty eyes were wary.
He didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to ask her about something so important. “Josh is thirteen.”
“Just,” she said.
“When did you and Dorian get married?”
“Around the time that Josh was born.”
“Before or after?” he pressed.
She wet her lips with her tongue. “A couple weeks after.”
He let the words settle. “Does that mean...” Again, he was at a loss for words.
She stepped away from him as a large group of people came out the door. “I can’t have this discussion here,” she hissed.
She didn’t have to say the words. He knew the truth. “What the hell have you done, Tilda?” he asked. He felt a raging pain tear through him. How could she have deceived him so? How could she have let him leave Roaring Springs? How could she not have said a damn word all these years?
“Come to the house tonight,” she said. “Nine o’clock. The ranch at the very end of Dale Drive.”
“Tilda,” he gritted out. He reached for her and saw that his arm was shaking.
But she was already moving away from him. Not running, but walking very fast.
He could catch her. And then what? Have Josh and Isaac and many other guests witness what should be a very private conversation?
He lowered his arm, tucking it tight to his side. Then he didn’t move.
He had a son. Josh was his.
Chapter 4
He knows. It was the only thought running through Tilda’s head as she drove. And she was filled with a bone-chilling combination of relief and fear. The two emotions ebbed and flowed as her thoughts cascaded.
It’s time for the truth to come out.
He’ll try to take Josh from me.
Josh will have the father he deserves.
My son will hate me for what I’ve done.
Back and forth her mind zipped. She dropped Isaac off. Maybe she said goodbye, she couldn’t remember by the time she turned the corner. At home, she walked inside the house, dropped her purse on the table and went directly to her room. She lay on the bed, listening to the too-loud television that Josh had immediately turned on.
She should be grateful that thirteen-year-old boys were not always attuned to their mothers’ moods. But eventually, he’d seek her out. If for no other reason than to see what was for dinner. And how was she going to tell him that the conversation that would occur between her and Blaine tonight was going to change everything?
She could lie to Blaine, try to convince him that he was seeing something that just wasn’t there. She dismissed the idea immediately. Not only would a DNA test prove her wrong, but there had been too many lies already.
She’d had her reasons. Good reasons. But would Blaine understand?
Josh could not be here for the conversation. She hadn’t been thinking when she’d told Blaine to come to the house. But nor did she want to meet in a public place where someone might overhear. She reached for her cell phone. When her mom answered, she made her voice bright. “Hi. How’s it going?”
“Good. Your dad and I are just watching some television.”
“I know it’s last minute, but do you think that Josh could come over and spend the night? And you could take him to school tomorrow?”
“Well...of course, honey. Is there something wrong?” Her mom, always supportive, was clearly puzzled by the unexpected request.
“No. Nothing’s wrong,” she lied. Her parents worried about her and Josh enough as it was. “I just have something that I need to take care of tonight. I can pick up some dinner for the three of you on the way.”
“Don’t worry about that. I made a lasagna, so there’s plenty. Can you join us for dinner, too?”
She wasn’t sure she could keep anything down. And it was hard enough to keep up the Everything is fine facade on the phone. In person, it would be impossible. “Not this time,” she said. “I’ll have Josh there in a half hour or so.”
She hung up and walked out to the living room. Josh was sprawled across the couch, an open bag of corn chips next to him. She walked over, picked it up and closed it. “New plan, sport,” she said. As a single working mom, she’d sometimes had to do some just-in-time juggling to get both her and Josh where they needed to be on any given day. Whenever there was an unexpected change, New plan, sport had become their official signal.
“What?” he asked.
“You’re going to have dinner with your grandparents and spend the night. They’ll take you to school.”
He frowned at her. It wasn’t the idea of going to her parents’ house...he loved spending time with them. But clearly he was surprised. “I have homework,” he said.
“And you’ll need to do it there.”
“Are you sleeping over, too?”
“Nope. I’ve got something that I need to take care of, so you’re going solo.”
He shrugged. “Okay. What’s Grandma making for dinner?”
She let out a breath, grateful that these days Josh mostly thought about his next meal. After tonight, would that be true?
“It’s a surprise,” she said, swallowing hard. “But it’s one of your favorites.”
* * *
An hour later, Tilda was back home, anxiously wandering from room to room. What would Blaine think of her home? She and Dorian had built it just two years after they’d been married. Three bedrooms. One for the two of them, one for Josh, and she’d hoped, at the time, that there might be another baby to fill the third.
But that had never happened and, after Dorian had gotten sick and died, she’d been grateful that she’d never gotten pregnant. She wasn’t sure she’d have been able to handle two children by herself.
She stopped wandering long enough to sanitize the bathroom that Josh used. Then she scrubbed the kitchen sink, cleaned out her refrigerator and, finally, tackled the mess inside her microwave.
She should have a crisis more often, she thought wryly. Her house would be neater.
But still, by eight forty-five, she was sitting on the couch, hands clasped together in her lap. Waiting.
At 8:57 p.m., there was a knock on her door. She took a deep breath, said a quick prayer and opened it. “Hi,” she said.
He nodded at her. His handsome face was a blank canvas, telling her nothing.
“Come in,” she said, standing back.
He walked in, stood, his shoulders back, his posture soldier-perfect. It made her stomach tighten. “Let me take your coat,” she offered.
He shrugged it off. “Where’s Josh?” he asked.
“Not here. I... I thought that might be better.” She motioned him toward the couch. Waited until he took a seat before taking the chair opposite him.
“I—”
“What the hell did you do?” he barked, interrupting her.
And just like that, she could feel her good intentions to have a reasonable conversation desert her. “I did what I had to do, Blaine. Because I was alone,” she added
bitterly.
“He’s my son,” he said hoarsely.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Blaine closed his eyes. Drew in deep breaths. When he opened his eyes, she could see bitterness. “Did your husband know, or did you lie to him, too?” he asked.
It was harsh. She probably deserved it, but still, it stung. “He knew. From the beginning. That’s why he married me.”
“Who else? Who else knows this big secret?”
“My parents may suspect that the baby wasn’t Dorian’s. I never explicitly told them one way or another. But they don’t know...about you.”
“Josh thinks that Dorian was his father?”
“Yes.”
“You told me that you lost the baby. That you had a miscarriage.”
“I thought I did. I was spotting. I didn’t know anything about being pregnant. You were already gone before I learned the truth.”
He stared at her. “There’s this thing called the telephone. There’s email. Not impossible to send a quick ‘Hey, by the way, I guess I am still pregnant.’”
He was very angry with her. She understood. But he needed to also understand something. “I was scared. Petrified, really.” For so many reasons. But did she dare tell him the whole truth? Would he believe her? She’d been warned at the time to never tell anyone. And she hadn’t. “And you didn’t want him.”
Her words hung in the air. Seemed to vibrate off the walls. And you didn’t want him. Could he deny it? But he wasn’t on trial here. He wasn’t the one who’d lied about a huge thing. “I didn’t know about him,” Blaine said, his voice hard.
There was nothing to be gained by reliving the past. “I intended to give the baby up for adoption. That was my plan.”
“What happened?”
“I couldn’t do it. He was my son, and I already loved him. Dorian, who’d been a family friend for years, offered to marry me. Told me that he’d always cared for me. Told me that he hoped that one day we’d be more than friends.”
