Morgan's Secret Son

by Sara Wood

  Aching unbearably inside, Morgan turned, faltered, and crouched down in front of the easy chair where Jack had been propped up against protective cushions. Morgan’s fingers touched the small hands and were gripped to a series of coos and gurgles.

  He could hear Jodie sobbing. Almost blinded by tears himself, his throat closed with a huge lump of emotion, he tortured himself by gazing at his son, loving him through the pain, marvelling at the perfection of the infinitely loved little face.

  Everything he had feared had come tragically true. He was losing his dearly beloved child and… He jammed his teeth together to prevent himself from begging for forgiveness. He must not think. Only act. And close his heart before it broke entirely.

  Because he would have to come here to see Sam, to see Jodie, Jack…

  Abruptly he stood up. Reached inside his pocket for his diary, wrote down his contact number and flung it on the floor. ‘You can reach me there. I’ll send someone round to pick up my stuff.’

  And he walked out blindly, stumbling into a table on his way and reeling as if he were drunk.

  Help me to get through this! he implored the fates. Give me strength! Storming out, on the edge of sanity, he slammed the front door. Viciously screwed the key in the lock till the engine of his car roared into life. Scrubbed at his pathetic red eyes with his handkerchief.

  A mistake too far, he thought savagely. No more loving. Not ever. Wheels screeched on the gravel. One backward glance in the mirror. Jodie, standing in the doorway, Jack in her arms.

  ‘Oh, God!’ he roared in despair, destroyed by the sight. And he hurtled down the drive like a man possessed, everything he loved torn brutally from his grasp.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE silence was frightening. She was alone. Bereft. Morgan’s farewell to his baby had been heartbreaking. She would never forget it for the rest of her life.

  She was now beyond tears. Shattered, she slumped into a chair, knowing she must rouse herself and get Jack to bed. Already he was whimpering, as if he’d sensed Morgan’s terrible anguish.

  Picking him up, she collected the bottle and the baby bag and stomped wearily back to the nursery. Jack was yelling. Upset, her nerves ragged from losing the man she’d loved, she tried to pacify the baby by mimicking Morgan’s soothing walk. It didn’t work.

  Eventually the bottle was ready. She’d never fed Jack before, and it wasn’t easy holding him in the crook of her arm while he wriggled and jerked and she tried to take the cap off the teat. Panicking, she wrenched at it.

  Both cap and teat came off, ejecting warm milk all over her. Half sobbing with frustration, she gave her skirt a hasty wipe with a muslin square and went down for another bottle.

  By the time this one had heated up sufficiently she stank of sour milk and Jack was screaming his head off. He wouldn’t take the bottle for a while but eventually he did, gobbling away with awful little jerks and sobs.

  Then he stopped feeding, his knees drawing up in agony as he yelled again.

  ‘Come on, sweetheart,’ she said, popping him over her shoulder. Awkwardly she put the bottle down on the floor and stood up, pacing the room. Jack stopped crying and she transferred him to the crook of her arm again, ready to feed him. He yelled, so she hoicked him to her shoulder and continued pacing.

  It was forty minutes before he burped. Shaking with relief and exhaustion, she sank back into the chair. And kicked over the bottle, the teat spinning into a chair leg and thus becoming dangerously unsterilised.

  Jodie felt like screaming. There were no more feeds made up. She’d have to start afresh—and it would be ages before the bottles had cooled.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sweetheart!’ she whispered, close to breaking point. ‘Oh, hush, please don’t cry! I can’t bear it if you do!’

  ‘Give him to me.’

  She gasped. ‘Morgan!’

  He didn’t look at her. ‘Go and do the bottles. I’ll keep him amused.’

  She didn’t argue. Jack’s needs came before hers. She handed the baby over and ran down the stairs, mortified that she’d managed so badly. Morgan appeared, carrying Jack and the baby gym. He obviously didn’t trust her, she thought resentfully, waiting for the boiled water to cool.

  By a miracle, Jack stopped grizzling and paid attention to the whirring rattle, the musical flower, the mirror and squeaky rabbit. Jodie felt her heart-rate settle down to a mere gallop instead of a thousand beats a minute.

  ‘Did you forget something?’ she asked in an unnaturally high voice.

  ‘No.’

  ‘You couldn’t bear to leave Jack in my incapable hands,’ she muttered bitterly.

  ‘I couldn’t bear to leave either of you.’

  She whirled, eyes blazing. ‘Because I’m your ticket to Jack!’

  ‘No!’ he cried, vehement with explosive passion. ‘Because I love you. Because I can’t live without you. Because I will not let you go without a fight. You are my life. You light my heart. Without you I am nothing.’

  ‘Don’t!’ she moaned.

  ‘Fill the bottles,’ he said gently.

  When they were done, she collapsed limply into the big armchair by the Aga. Morgan pulled up a pine chair near her and passed Jack over.

  She watched the baby feeding peacefully in her arms and wondered how she could have got into such a state. Because it was important, she thought miserably. She wanted to be good at being a mother.

  Morgan watched without comment while she finished the feed, winded and changed Jack. Despite Jack having a dirty nappy, she managed to juggle legs, bottom, wipes, cream and clean nappy with some skill.

  Drained, she wordlessly handed him back. But Morgan put the baby on the changing mat beneath the baby gym and, taking Jodie’s hand, pushed her back into the chair.

  He sat down, his knees inches away. ‘I had an affair with Teresa,’ he said quietly.

  ‘I don’t want to know!’ she spat, averting her head.

  His hand drew her chin back, forcing her to look at him. ‘You’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you don’t.’

  She shrugged. ‘Go on if you must,’ she said in a hard tone. ‘It’ll be water off a duck’s back.’

  ‘You saw what she was like—’

  ‘Beautiful,’ she muttered sullenly.

  ‘Cold and manipulative.’

  Jodie’s eyes widened. ‘What?’

  ‘She fooled everyone. Me included. I fell for the woman I saw, not the person she was. And soon I disliked her. She was rude to waiters and receptionists and anyone she thought was beneath her. She spent money like water. Made emotional demands on me. I told her we were finished. She decided to spite me and deliberately engineered a meeting with your father, knowing how rich he was—and how highly I esteemed him.’

  Morgan leaned forwards, his hands held loosely on his knees. Jodie stared back.

  ‘Your father fell for her,’ he went on. ‘She knew how to flatter and flirt. I tried to dissuade him and we had our first row ever because he was head-over-heels in love. That very night she moved in with your father—and soon persuaded him to buy a larger and grander house for both of them. I visited less and less—’

  ‘But you saw Teresa alone when you did visit,’ she insisted, remembering the story about the daily help finding them together. She held her breath. If Morgan denied that, she’d order him out. It would be the end.

  ‘Once,’ he acknowledged. ‘I’d done some work in the garden for Sam. I was just coming out of the shower when Teresa walked in virtually naked. I yelled at her to get out.’

  ‘Did anyone see you?’ she asked hesitantly.

  ‘I don’t think so. Teresa yelled back and ran off, then got into some row with the daily—she went through help like a dose of salts—and the poor woman clearly took exception to Teresa’s tantrum and walked out… Just a minute. Jack’s dropped off to sleep. Let me settle him upstairs.’

  ‘I’ll come,’ she said grimly, determined not to let Morgan out of her sight. She waited
while he organised the baby alarm and then let herself be led into the master suite. She perched on the edge of a chaise longue. Morgan sat on the floor in front of her.

  ‘It is the truth, Jodie,’ he said quietly. ‘You either believe me or you don’t. I can’t prove it. All I ask is for you to consider the kind of man I am, and perhaps your father’s opinion of me over the years. And then to weigh that up against Teresa’s track record and the kind of friends she went around with. Did you like those women?’

  She shuddered. ‘No—but I—I daren’t risk trusting you!’ she whispered.

  ‘No. I see that. Let me finish. You know Teresa was upset when Sam didn’t honour his pledge to marry her as soon as possible—particularly as she was pregnant. Sam was over the moon, of course. But when he kept stalling about the wedding she became more than upset—that’s when she got herself into a raging fury. After a blazing row she ran out of the house screaming abuse.’

  ‘And she was killed,’ Jodie said.

  Morgan nodded. He passed a hand over his face. ‘It was awful,’ he said huskily. ‘She’d driven into a tree. Sam went berserk. He blamed himself. I couldn’t bear to see him so distraught.’

  ‘And how did you feel about Teresa’s death?’ she asked shakily.

  ‘I don’t know. Angry, sad, annoyed, exasperated—’

  ‘Upset?’

  He gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Not for her. Not in the way you mean. When I saw her, ruined, dying, my heart bled for her. I would have felt the same for anyone in that position—and I had been close to her, whatever I thought of her morals and values. She told me then that Sam wasn’t Jack’s father. I realised then why she’d been so utterly appalled when I dumped her—and why she’d found a substitute quickly. In a moment of compassion, because she was near hysterical and about to undergo a Caesarean which would almost certainly end in her death, I agreed that I would never tell a living soul her secret.’

  ‘You are Jack’s father,’ Jodie choked.

  His eyes flickered. ‘I can’t answer that. I stick by my promise. I can tell you that she was close to term, something she hadn’t told Sam, who believed the baby was premature. Do the maths and draw your own conclusions. Teresa and I were lovers, Jodie. But only before your father appeared on the scene. From then on I left her strictly alone. I respected Sam. I wouldn’t have poached on his own territory, even if I had loved her.’

  ‘You were devastated by her death,’ she said dully.

  ‘By the consequences of her death,’ Morgan replied. ‘Sam was dangerously ill. I had a baby on my hands. I had to arrange Teresa’s funeral and tell lies about how much she would be missed, knowing that my—that Jack,’ he corrected, ‘would be registered and recognised as Sam’s child. And because Sam was so ill—and had been ecstatic about the prospect of a baby, which was all he had left of Teresa—I knew I couldn’t break his heart by claiming Jack as my own.’ His hand touched hers tentatively. ‘What would you have done, Jodie, in my place? How do you choose? The painful, terrible truth, or the silent, protective deceit? I’ve paced the floor hour after hour, willing some solution to present itself, but to no avail. I kept silent for Sam’s sake. It’s as simple as that.’

  ‘Sam’s or Teresa’s?’ she asked bitterly.

  ‘It wouldn’t have done your father any good to know that she’d deceived him over who’d fathered her baby,’ he replied heavily. ‘So it was all for his sake, because I knew he was dying.’

  ‘You would have adopted Jack?’

  ‘I would.’

  ‘Then I came along and flung all your plans into disarray!’

  He smiled at that. ‘You flung me into disarray,’ he said drily.

  ‘Until you hit on the perfect solution. If you married me, you’d never lose Jack!’ she wailed.

  His shock was too profound to be anything other than genuine. ‘How can you say that?’ he yelled, jumping up angrily. ‘I proposed to you because I love you! I’m crazy about you. I think of you all the time. You must know that!’

  Her heart thudded. Yes, she did. He loved her. Had never really loved Teresa. She couldn’t even imagine them together now. Everything he’d said with such fervour had tallied with the actions of a man who’d placed himself in an impossible position: protecting her father, protecting Teresa for her father’s sake and trying to do the best for Jack. She was filled with compassion. He’d never thought of himself. A truly selfless man.

  She sighed.

  ‘Jodie,’ he said roughly, ‘I can see how it looks. Marrying you is the solution to all my problems. A wonderful, amazing twist of fate that I hardly believed could have come my way! But if you think I’d ever marry someone for convenience then you don’t know me!’ he stormed. ‘Marriage is too special, too precious to play around with! I wouldn’t have anyone as Jack’s stepmother just to provide a female body in the house, no matter how sexy or inventive she might be in bed, even though her hair smells of warm silk and her body drives me mad! Even if she makes me feel warm and contented and I feel as if I’ve found a life-long friend… What are you doing, Jodie?’ he scowled savagely.

  ‘Tucking a bit of hair behind your ear,’ she answered demurely. ‘You’re rambling, Morgan. Betraying your feelings. So now I’m going to kiss you… And now I’m going to whisper something in your ear.’

  ‘Jodie…?’

  ‘I love you,’ she breathed, nibbling his lobe. ‘Now all you have to do is to persuade me very, very thoroughly that you love me too.’

  ‘Uh.’ He jerked as she undid a button on his shirt and slid her hand inside to rest on his chest. ‘I could shower you with diamonds…’ He let out a gasp when she shook her head and slowly undid his belt. ‘Buy you a yacht?’ he asked shakily. She smiled, flinging the belt to the ground and concentrating on shrugging off his shirt. ‘Yellow thigh boots. Ferrets. Steak and kidney pie with rich gravy…’

  ‘Idiot,’ she said fondly. And, grabbing his tie, she led him to the bed. ‘Just love me,’ she husked, opening her arms to welcome him.

  Life was perfect, Morgan mused dreamily the next morning, waking with Jodie nestling against him. Soon she would meet up with her father and they’d be living here together, as a family.

  But then he frowned, as guilt and regret spoiled the paradise he’d conjured up. He would still be deceiving Sam—and now Jodie would be forced to lie to her own father too, every time they referred to Jack as Sam’s baby. Their motives were honourable, but the very act of lying to Sam was souring the idyll, and suddenly Morgan’s happiness had a bitter edge to it.

  And yet he could do nothing, because of his solemn promise to a dying woman.

  It was with mixed feelings that he took Jack along as usual on his visit to Sam that day, and he winced when Sam asked fondly, ‘And how’s my little boy?’

  Morgan handed over Jack and struggled to divert his pain and guilt, gently, slowly telling Sam of the circumstances surrounding Jodie’s arrival while the older man listened intently.

  Once or twice Morgan’s attention wavered, his thoughts and his mind occupied with the conspiracy he and Jodie would be indulging in where Jack’s parentage was concerned. With a wry smile, Sam brought Morgan back on track until the story had been completed.

  ‘So Teresa caused this hiatus,’ Sam observed after a pause.

  ‘She only destroyed Jodie’s letters because she was insecure,’ Morgan explained generously. ‘She couldn’t bear the thought of not marrying you.’ He put his hand on Sam’s bony shoulder. ‘We can’t turn back the past. We have all made mistakes. But Jodie desperately wants to see you. She’s very special, Sam.’

  The older man remained silent for a time and Morgan sat quietly, waiting for his decision. He’d already sung Jodie’s praises and it had touched and heartened him to see the tears of pride forming in Sam’s eyes.

  Jack stirred and cooed happily, flailing his tiny arms about. Morgan gazed at the baby lovingly.

  ‘I’d like to see her too,’ Sam said, his voice choked. He took a deep
breath and held out Jack, an odd expression of determination on his face. ‘Take your son and tell her to come. Bring her to me in the morning.’

  ‘That’s wonderful!’ Grinning inanely, Morgan leapt to his feet and took Jack eagerly, hugging him close in delight. ‘She’ll be thrilled! You’ll love her!’ There was an unusually wistful smile on Sam’s face and Morgan hesitated, puzzled by it. ‘What’s going on? What did I say?’ he demanded.

  ‘It’s what you didn’t say,’ Sam said shakily. He drew himself more upright against the pillows. ‘You didn’t express surprise when I referred to Jack as your son.’

  Morgan stared, appalled, incapable of saying anything.

  ‘I imagine,’ continued Sam very quietly, ‘that this might be one of the mistakes you were talking about.’

  The world seemed to lurch, falter, and right itself again. ‘Sam!’ Morgan floundered hoarsely, knowing he should bluster this out, searching for words which wouldn’t come. ‘I—I—!’

  ‘Don’t deny it!’ Sam said fiercely. ‘I deserve better than that!’

  ‘Oh, God!’ Morgan whispered in horror. ‘What have I done?’

  With a groan of despair, he sank into the chair again, his head bowed, his free hand covering his face. He’d failed. What would this do to Sam? Jack meant everything to him. And now in a stupid moment of inattention he’d destroyed Sam’s happiness, his hopes and his joy of fatherhood.

  He knew how deeply a father felt. If Jack were to be torn from him he’d be distraught… Fearing for Sam’s well-being, Morgan raised his heavy head to stare at the older man with the bleak, tortured eyes of a man in purgatory.

  This would be the end to his imagined scenario of a happy family. Sam would never speak to him again and would die with loathing in his heart… Morgan winced from the slice of pain which stabbed him through and through. He loved his substitute father more than he’d ever known.

  And now Sam was leaning forwards, tears in his pale eyes… Morgan prepared himself for the inevitable rejection, agonising over the possible consequences for Jodie and her hoped-for reunion. He hung his head again, a broken man, haunted by the thought that he’d probably ensured that Jodie would never meet her father.