by Valery Parv
"Is he really all right?" Lillian asked.
Tara nodded. "He's fine, but the hospital wanted to keep him overnight for observation. Since I wasn't about to leave him, they gave us a room together."
Zeke's hand brushed her hair. "The rest won't do you any harm, either, my love."
Hearing the endearment, Lillian's eyebrows lifted. "Did I read the headlines correctly yesterday? You two ran away and got married? I tried to call but got no answer at your place and no one at Zeke's office knew where he'd gone, either."
Tara heard the hurt her mother tried to conceal. "You didn't miss the wedding, so don't look so disappointed." She felt her eyes brighten and knew it was at the prospect of becoming Zeke's wife for real. With his ring on her finger, she felt as married to him as she could ever feel, but with their child to consider, he insisted on making everything official. "We'll be married as soon as the fuss dies down," she said.
"In the meantime, we had to tell the papers something to get them to stop hounding us," Zeke added.
Lillian's mouth twitched. "A new experience for you, Zeke?"
He held up a hand. "As a result, I promise to be a kinder, less intrusive journalist from now on."
Tara laughed. "And pigs might fly." Her tone said she didn't want him to change. She wanted him to stay as much a crusader as ever, to go on fighting in print for the rights of those who couldn't defend themselves. And to go on loving her and their child. The miracle was almost as great as finding their baby alive. Her cup of happiness brimmed over.
"You just missed Ben and Carol and the children," she told her mother. That scene had been emotional enough to bring the house down. She had a feeling Brendan was going to be thoroughly spoiled by his relatives. By her, too, if she wasn't very careful.
Her mother dropped a kiss on her forehead. "You must be tired out. But you can have a break now. Your father plans to stop by, but not until the afternoon."
Tara said stiffly, "That's kind of him."
At the door, Lillian paused. "Don't be too hard on him, Tara. He's changed after living on his own for a while. He's not as demanding as he used to be." Lillian's gaze lingered on the tableau of father, mother and baby. "I don't think I need to explain it to you anymore."
Her vision blurred and Tara shook her head. Love didn't set conditions and it didn't vanish because you willed it to. "Do you think you'll get back together?"
"Who knows? I'll always care about him. In his own strange way, he cares about me, too. He's taking me to dinner tomorrow night."
It was a start, Tara thought. She smiled. "Have a good time."
She looked up at Zeke. "I'm staying at Zeke's place until I have the full use of my arm back." It was still hideously sore, and the pain of having her shoulder put back into place had been blinding, but the memory was fading fast. The sling was to ensure that she rested the arm and avoided the risk of dislocating her shoulder again. With Zeke finally admitting he loved her, and their baby safe by her side, she couldn't bring herself to complain about anything.
But Zeke saw the flicker of pain that crossed her face. "Would you like the doctor to give you something? I can take Brendan if he's too heavy for you."
Her good arm tightened automatically around the baby. "He could never be too heavy. Oh, Zeke, I can't believe he's real." She let her fingers trail over the baby's soft black hair. "He's so big now and we've missed so much." His first sounds, how he reacted to his first taste of solid food, discovering he could sit up by himself. All of it had taken place without her. She blinked hard.
He placed his hand over hers on the baby's head. "I know, and we can never get those months back, but we have all of the future together."
She took comfort in the warmth of his touch. He hadn't left her side for a second since she had been brought to the hospital. Without her having to say so, he had understood that she couldn't bear letting Brendan out of her sight, and had held the baby in his arms where she could see them both while her shoulder was set. She hadn't been able to stop herself from crying out at the pain, and Zeke had looked as if he wanted to hit the doctor causing it. But she had kept her eyes on Zeke and her son, knowing nothing else mattered.
He had even changed his son on a table nearby, she recalled. He had never done it before in his life, but had allowed a nurse to talk him through the process, treating the job as a labor of love. He had surprised her quite a few times lately, and she suspected it was only the beginning.
"Did you mean it when you said you love me?" she asked in a low voice.
"I'm only sorry it took me so long to say it."
"Remember what you told me. We can't get those months back, but we have the future." It had never looked more radiant.
Zeke looked at the sleeping child. "How long do you think it will take before he accepts us as his parents?"
"At this age, the doctor told me he should bond quite quickly. Even though we didn't share the first ten months of his life, there's still the blood tie. I think he knows I'm his mother." Wishful thinking perhaps, but she couldn't help herself.
"I'm sure of it." In truth, Zeke wasn't sure of anything anymore. In a day his whole life had turned upside down. He had discovered that not only was he capable of committing to Tara, nothing on earth was going to keep them apart. He had also discovered fatherhood in a big way. While holding his son and watching Tara's injuries being treated, he had felt a love such as he had never known in his life. It welled out of the deepest part of his being, and wove like an aura around the three of them. Caveman he might be, but he intended to guard his small clan as ferociously as any cave dweller in the history of the planet.
Her eyes drifted shut and he saw that she was asleep. He eased himself into a chair within touching distance of the two of them, knowing he wasn't going anywhere until the three of them went home together.
* * *
By tacit agreement, they had decided to return to Zeke's new house rather than either of their homes. Of all the places she had lived, Tara knew that this house felt more like home to her than anywhere else. Their home.
"Just as well I carried you over the threshold last time, because it wouldn't be a good idea this time," Zeke said.
Her shoulder twinged occasionally and she still wore the sling, but it was already less bothersome than when she left the hospital a few days before. Zeke had insisted on taking them to a luxury hotel suite in the middle of the city, where she and the baby could be waited on hand and foot, shielded from the media who were having a field day with the story.
She had enjoyed the hotel experience, especially of having Zeke's undivided attention, she acknowledged. He had written a wrap-up of the baby swapping scandal at the hotel and it had been published to great fanfare. If her shoulder hadn't been too sore to make love, everything would have been perfect. She consoled herself with Zeke's promise that their whole future lay ahead of them.
Another surprise awaited her when Zeke unlocked the front door. "The place is furnished," she exclaimed.
Where the large rooms had echoed with emptiness before, there was now a comfortable ambience that Tara loved on sight. In the hallway, leafy green plants flourished in pots and a vase of old-fashioned roses perfumed the air. She had always liked country style, and she gloried in the Laura Ashley fabrics and Sanderson cabbage-rose prints that dominated the living-room furnishings. A guest bathroom had been decorated to match, she noticed as she passed it. She could hardly wait to explore the rest. "It's wonderful."
Settling Brendan comfortably in his arms, he gave a pleased smile. "I know what you like, so I had a decorator come in while we were at the hotel."
"Now I know why you wanted to keep me away."
He regarded her seriously. "I never want to keep you away again. And I did want you to get some rest."
"I feel like a real lotus-eater. I've never done so little in my life." He had canceled her commitments on behalf of Model Children, telling everyone that she wouldn't be available for at least a couple of weeks. She h
ad sighed at his heavy-handedness, knowing they would need to talk about it soon. Having him pamper her was one thing, but he couldn't be encouraged to take control of her life. At the same time, she understood why he felt the need. Proposing marriage and becoming a father were huge steps for someone who had never wanted to be tied down by anyone. She couldn't blame him for going a little overboard.
He saw the flicker of doubt cross her face. "Don't worry, I'm not planning to keep up the macho stuff forever, only until you're recovered and Brendan has adjusted to being with us, then I'll go back to being the self-centered boor you're used to."
She had to smile, knowing Zeke wouldn't do any such thing. He might regard himself as a caveman, but she could see changes that he hadn't yet noticed in himself and she loved every one of them. He was gentler, more accommodating of her feelings, probably because he was more in tune with his own.
The baby had also adjusted remarkably well. She had braced herself for tears and tantrums, and the counselor the police had sent to talk to her, had assured her it wasn't personal. Brendan needed time to get to know them and get over being separated from the people he'd known as parents for the past ten months.
"Have you heard any more about Jenny and Ross?" she asked.
He nodded. "Bill's keeping tabs for me. Ross is in custody, awaiting trial for kidnapping. He's agreed to give evidence against the organizers of the baby swapping ring, and that will help his case. They'll also take his mental problems into account."
"And Jenny Fine?"
"No charges were laid against her. The police accept that she didn't know anything about the switch."
"I hope her baby is born well and strong this time. She deserves some happiness." Knowing what she'd endured after she believed her baby had died, Tara's heart went out to the other woman.
"She should have come forward a lot sooner," Zeke said, sounding less than sympathetic. "Then you wouldn't have suffered for so long."
"It's over now. You said yourself, we have the future ahead of us."
While she settled the baby in the newly furnished nursery that opened off the master bedroom, Zeke went into the kitchen, saying he would make coffee. It was so cozily domestic that she felt as if a giant hand had enclosed her heart. What more could she possibly ask from life?
"How's Brendan?" he asked when she joined him in the kitchen.
"Sleeping like a baby," she said, then heard herself and laughed. It was tempting to creep back and check on him every five minutes, but she was trying to cure herself of the habit. The counselor had warned her that she would be tempted to wrap the child in cotton wool, but ultimately it would do more harm than good. But it was so hard to make herself stay away even for short periods.
Zeke sensed her dilemma. "Want me to check on him?"
"We mustn't. At least not more than a dozen times an hour." It gratified her to see that he felt the same way. Despite his earlier misgivings, she had seen enough to convince her that Zeke was going to be a great father.
She picked up the coffee cup Zeke had passed to her, but before she could drink, the doorbell rang. It was the first time she'd heard it since arriving at the house and the cheerless sound reminded her of a Gothic movie. Her eyes widened in astonishment.
Zeke's gaze met hers. "I'll get it changed tomorrow."
He hadn't moved. "Aren't you going to answer it?" she asked.
"Do you want visitors?"
She shook her head, knowing everyone she wanted to see was already under the roof. But the doorbell pealed again. Whoever it was wasn't going away. "If we don't answer it, that awful bell will wake the baby."
He set his cup down and went into the hallway. A man's voice she didn't recognize greeted him and she followed, curious to see who it belonged to. A tall, slightly stoop-shouldered man in his early seventies stood at the door. His silver hair gave him an air of distinction, and his craggy features looked oddly familiar, she thought.
"Greg Blaxland, meet my fiancée, Tara McNiven," Zeke said with a strange catch in his voice.
She felt her smile freeze. Blaxland? What was going on here? Habit made her offer her hand. "What can we do for you, Mr. Blaxland?"
"I'd like to come in for a few minutes, if I'm not intruding," Greg said, his diffident tone at odds with his confident appearance.
She glanced at Zeke, who nodded. The man followed them into the formal living room, but seemed reluctant to sit down. Instead he paced a little, caught himself, thrust his hands into his pockets, took them out again.
He looked so ill at ease that Tara took pity on him. Zeke was obviously waiting for Greg to make the first move, for some reason. "We're having coffee in the kitchen, would you like some?" she asked.
The man's relief was apparent. "That would be great, thanks."
Zeke also seemed to welcome having something to do, as he got out another cup and filled it, adding cream and sugar at the man's request. When there were no more small tasks to busy himself with, he looked at Greg. "Why are you here?"
The man hesitated. "I should ask the same question you asked me when you arrived on my doorstep to tell me my daughter had died. Can't a man visit his family without an excuse?"
Family? More confusion roiled through Tara. "Who are you?" she asked.
Zeke's shoulders hunched as if he was in pain. "Greg is my mother's father."
"Your grandfather?" She said the word he had avoided, understanding why the man looked so familiar. There was an unmistakable family resemblance. "You're the man who turned Zeke away after he finally tracked you down?"
The older man looked as if he might break down, but regained control of himself with an effort. "You don't have to remind me. I've lived with that memory every day for ten years."
Zeke's hands balled into fists. "You're not the only one."
The man flinched as if his grandson had hit him. "The religious group I belonged to preached the old biblical rule that if your eye offended you, you cut it out."
"Even if the offender was your own daughter?"
"Even then. I don't belong to them anymore. I left that group soon after your visit, but it was too late, or so I thought."
"It is too late," Zeke said savagely.
The man started to turn away, hunching as if against a howling gale. "I can't blame you. But I hoped, now you have a child of your own…"
"Wait." Zeke sounded so bleak that her heart turned over. "You're right, I can't do to you what you did to me."
"Even though I deserve it," the man finished his thought, but sounded a fraction more hopeful. "I've followed your adventures in the papers since you discovered your baby was alive."
"How did you locate us?" Tara asked.
"As it turns out, I've known one of your new neighbors for years. When she told me who'd moved in here, it seemed like an omen. I had to come, although I was far from sure of my welcome."
"You are welcome," she said decisively. "For our son's sake. It will be good for him to grow up knowing Zeke's side of the family." She used the phrase deliberately, taking satisfaction in the wonder she saw spreading over Zeke's face. "You are his great-grandfather," she added.
"My wife, Angela, will spoil him rotten if you let her," Greg said, his voice cracking. "She was too uncertain of our welcome to come today, but I hope you'll let me bring her over soon."
"Whenever you like." Tara hoped she hadn't gone too far, but saw from Zeke's expression that she had said the right thing, perhaps the words he wanted to say but couldn't yet.
As if reaching a decision, Zeke set his cup down. "Would you like to see your great-grandson?"
Greg's face lit up. "I'd like it very much."
Zeke led his grandfather to the door of the baby's room and they looked in at the sleeping child. Watching them watching her son, Tara's heart felt so full it wanted to burst. The one thing she had wanted for Zeke had set the seal on their future. His real family had acknowledged him at last. She was glad Zeke hadn't turned Greg away. He, too, might have regretted it all of
his life.
There would probably be other relatives for him to meet, memories and, no doubt, family disputes, as well. She'd known them all in her own family, and looked forward to seeing Zeke discover them for himself. As well as the joys family could bestow. They would make him whole.
When he showed Greg out after inviting him to bring his wife the next day, Zeke's eyes were shining. "I never thought I'd see the day."
She shrugged off the sling and wrapped her arms around him, pleased to find that her shoulder gave only the merest twinge. Zeke looked alarmed. "Should you?"
"I'm fine, really." She studied him from under lowered lashes. "The doctor said I can do anything I want to, as long as I'm careful."
Her voice played on his nerves like a violin. "Anything?"
She tightened her hold. "Anything I want to."
He began to kiss her slowly, thoroughly, until her heart sang with joy and anticipation before he lifted passion-drugged eyes to her. "If you're sure?"
"I didn't break into pieces out there."
He laughed. "Bold little thing, aren't you?"
"Frustrated more likely." It had been days since the hostage crisis and she was aching for him. "Do you know how long it's been?"
His face told her he knew to the second how long it had been, but he kept his caresses gentle, arousing her, loving her, as if she were made of precious porcelain.
Wonder warred with desire inside her. "Lord, Zeke, will it always be like this with us?"
"Always," he promised, raining kisses over her face until he reached her mouth, where he staked his claim with breathtaking assurance.
When she could breathe again, she said, "I thought you didn't believe in always."
"You made me believe. For richer and poorer, good and bad, until death do us part." He lifted his head. "Tell me it's what you want, too?"
She rested her head against him. "It's what I've always dreamed of with you."
He tilted her chin up. "Just goes to show you, dreams can come true."
"Ours have, all of them."
"Not quite all. Brendan is still an only child."
But not for long, she thought as Zeke's arms came around her and his mouth found hers. Not for long.
