The Doctor's Secret Son

by Deb Kastner

  Either way—any way—she was an exceptionally striking woman. A man wouldn’t be able to help himself from doing a double take if he passed her on the street. Her maturity only added depth to her. The years hadn’t just been kind to her, but they’d also enhanced her natural beauty. Even now, with her enormous sapphire-blue eyes troubled and her brow creased, she was still amazingly beautiful.

  “Food in the kitchen,” Zach suggested as he closed the front door against the cold chill of a Texas winter.

  Riley clutched his basketball in both hands and hung back, obviously unsure of himself.

  “What do you think, Riley?” Zach asked, trying to put the boy at ease. “Did you have a good Christmas?”

  Zach waited. Delia was equally silent, her full lips twisting thoughtfully.

  “Yeah, I guess so.” Riley stared down at his feet and nodded.

  “He misses his friends,” Delia explained softly. “This move has been hard on him.”

  Zach heard the warning in her voice. She was afraid of the night’s outcome. No matter how they presented the facts, it would be difficult for Riley. There was no getting around it.

  But they had to go through it to get to the other side—and they would get to the other side. He just wasn’t sure how.

  “Is that your new basketball?” he queried.

  “Yeah,” Riley answered, holding it up for his coach’s inspection. “Santa brought it for me.”

  “Cool,” Zach answered, making a big show of admiring the ball.

  “I got these clothes, too,” Riley continued. Sporting goods apparently made much higher marks on Riley’s Christmas list than a new pair of jeans and a forest-green polo shirt, and Zach could hardly blame him. He wasn’t big on clothes, either.

  “You look nice, champ,” he said, knowing Delia had bought the outfit for Riley and trying in his own way to make up for the boy’s less-than-eager response.

  “Riley, your video game is in the car. Why don’t you go get it while Coach and I get dinner on the table,” Delia suggested, shaking her head at her son, and then at Zach.

  Riley started for the door and then paused and turned—his gaze moving between his mother and Zach.

  What was holding the boy back? He seemed intimidated by the situation—but, then, was that any big surprise? He’d just moved across the country, hardly knew anyone, and he was inexperienced with his surroundings.

  And now Zach was just going to add to the burden.

  Surprise! I’m your father.

  He prayed for at least the hundredth time that day for God to bless them.

  Delia didn’t speak as she entered the kitchen and began unwrapping the bread she’d brought. He struggled to find something to fill the stifling silence.

  “Should I have bought him a bunch of presents, do you think?” he asked, coming in behind her. “Buy out the sports section of Emerson’s Hardware?”

  To his relief, she laughed. “Try to buy your way into your son’s heart? I really don’t think you’ll need to do that. He’s going to love you.”

  Zach hoped so—with all his heart. His greatest fear was that just the opposite would happen.

  She glanced his way, and he could see by the way her brow creased that she was having the same thoughts he was. Still, she smiled at him reassuringly.

  “He will. You’re all he’s talked about in the last two days. Coach Bowden this, Coach Bowden that. I think he believes you cause the sun to rise and set in the sky.”

  “I hope not,” Zach said teasingly. “I certainly don’t want to rank myself up there with God. He’s the only One who can create a beautiful sunset.”

  Delia pinched her lips and looked away. It was the briefest expression and was quickly replaced by another shaky smile, but it gave Zach pause to wonder.

  The door slammed as Riley returned inside. Peeking around the corner, Zach watched as his son shed his jacket and curl up in an armchair, immediately engrossed in his handheld game.

  Assured that Riley’s attention was elsewhere, Zach turned back to Delia, who was arranging and rearranging the silverware on the table. She didn’t look up, even when he cleared his throat.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked gently. He was curious. That was all. He knew her better than anyone, and he knew when something was bothering her.

  “Hmm?” she replied, obviously pretending she didn’t know what he was asking. He thought she did understand and was deflecting, but just in case, he reiterated the question with additional detail.

  “What did I say that upset you?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  Nothing? Is that why she wouldn’t meet his gaze?

  “Delia,” he gently pressed.

  She sighed. “It’s just that—well, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk about God in front of Riley.”

  He couldn’t have been more shocked if she’d splashed ice-cold water on him. He’d questioned Delia’s faith recently, but now they were talking about Riley. It hadn’t occurred to Zach that what she believed—or didn’t believe—would affect their son.

  She didn’t want him to talk about God? Zach’s faith was as much a part of him now as the breath that filled his lungs. How could he not talk about the Savior?

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  She still refused to look at him, so he reached for her shoulders to turn her around, and then used his fingertip to gently tilt up her chin so she had no choice but to meet his gaze.

  “Tell me what happened,” he invited, his voice soft but firm. He tilted his head. “I promise I won’t judge you, no matter what you say.”

  She sighed wearily. “Life happened, Zach. Just life.”

  “You were the one who taught me that God is always with us, no matter what the circumstances, and that we can trust Him to see us through our trials.”

  “Yeah, well, what can I say?” she asked, with a sarcastic edge to her tone. “I was young and naive back then. Things are different now that I’ve experienced the world and learned what it’s like to be truly alone.”

  Zach couldn’t breathe and he couldn’t take his gaze away from the pain in the depths of her deep blue eyes. He experienced a sharp stab of—something—deep in his chest. He couldn’t identify the emotion, or maybe he didn’t want to. For the first time since she’d arrived back in town with their son, he was sincerely considering the past through her eyes, and he didn’t like what he saw.

  “Who did you have with you for support when you were in the hospital? When Riley was born, I mean?” he asked, his voice cracking under the strain of holding his emotions in check.

  “No one.” She shook her head. “My mother had planned to fly out, but she got sick.”

  “No friends who could help you?”

  “I didn’t ask.”

  She was a proud woman, his Delia. Proud and strong and infinitely stubborn.

  Anger and regret pierced through him. If she’d done things differently, he could have been there to lend her his strength. To allow her to rest for a change, free from shouldering a lifetime of responsibility on her own. Why hadn’t she let him be there at Riley’s birth to protect her and care for her when she had needed him most?

  But she didn’t think she needed him. Leaving him out of the equation had been her decision, hadn’t it? A knot hardened in the pit of his stomach. It wasn’t like he’d had any choice in the matter.

  “Delia,” he started, but then he paused, not knowing what to say.

  She flashed him the most counterfeit smile he’d ever seen in his life and turned back to the table. “I confess I bought these cookies from Cup o’ Jo. Chance’s wife, Phoebe, makes the most delicious baked goods, so I figured you probably wouldn’t mind store-bought this time. I would have baked some
myself, but I’m still getting settled in at my parents’ house and I didn’t have time.”

  So that was it, then. End of conversation. She was not willing to talk about whatever trials she’d endured after she’d left him, or explain to him how it was that her faith had gone so far by the wayside.

  Although it bothered him more than she could possibly imagine, he knew her well enough not to press her on the issue. She’d balk for sure—giving her one more reason to stay on the defensive with him.

  It occurred to him that maybe the tide had turned in their relationship. Perhaps he would be the one to share his faith with her, just as she’d done with him all those years ago.

  But not now.

  She’d turned out the figurative Closed sign and locked the door to her heart.

  Silently, he prayed for her. Zach might be struggling to forgive her for what she had done to him, but God never turned His back on His children, and He certainly didn’t lose them. If only Delia could see that.

  “Obviously, I don’t mind store-bought anything,” he said, giving her time to regroup. “This whole dinner is practically out of a can. Although, now that I’m thinking about it, I always did love your home-baked cookies. Remember when you used to bring me those gigantic chocolate-chocolate chip cookies after school?”

  She nodded, but her gaze still appeared distant.

  He opened his mouth to continue his one-sided conversation and then closed it. What else was there to say?

  “The house looks nice,” Delia said. She glanced at him, and he could see that she’d regained some of her composure, although her eyes still looked glassy.

  “Thanks.” Zach chuckled drily. “You have no idea the trouble I went to, to make my house look a little Christmassy—is that a word? Christmassy? I hit Emerson’s up for everything they had left in stock. I didn’t have much time, and I’ve never decorated before.”

  “No?” She looked surprised. She probably went to great lengths to bring the spirit of the season to Riley. Or at least the secular part of it.

  “Nope. I’m usually the only one to see it, so why bother?”

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured. With a troubled frown, she laid a hand on his arm. “At least this is a Christmas Riley will never forget.”

  “In more ways than one,” he commented softly, thinking of all the evening might hold for them.

  “Yes,” she agreed, once again averting her eyes. “I imagine Riley is about ready to eat.”

  Another deflection.

  They’d grown so far apart that Zach wasn’t sure how he would ever be able to bridge the distance between them. He stared down at her small delicate hand that was still resting on his arm, connecting them physically—but not emotionally, where it really counted.

  For Riley’s sake, they somehow needed to work through their issues—confront the past and forge toward the future, however painful that might be.

  At best, it would be a long, uphill battle. Maybe impossible.

  And for Zach, at least, very possibly heartbreaking.

  Chapter Ten

  “Put your video game away and come eat,” Delia told her son.

  “Aw, Mom,” Riley protested. “Do I have to? I’m right in the middle of level seven and I think I’m going to beat it this time.”

  Delia kept her smile in reserve, although she was secretly amused. Riley dragged his feet, looking utterly despondent and completely adorable. “We just ate dinner at Grandma and Grandpa’s house,” he protested under his breath. “I don’t see why we have to eat again.” He slid glumly into the chair beside her at the kitchen table and tossed his napkin in his lap.

  “I have to start the level over now,” he grumbled.

  Across the table, Zach smothered a chuckle. Delia flashed him a mock scowl, reminding him that he was an adult at this table.

  “Don’t be rude,” she whispered, leaning in close to Riley’s ear. “You are a guest in this house and Coach Bowden has gone to a lot of trouble to fix a nice dinner for us.”

  Zach sputtered. “I wouldn’t say a lot of trouble. And it’s definitely not what I would classify as a nice dinner.”

  “You are not helping,” she told Zach, though she was very nearly chuckling herself. She rolled her eyes at him, glad things were feeling a little less tense.

  “Right,” Zach agreed, his chuckle turning into a full-blown laugh. His eyes met Delia’s from across the table. “Let’s eat up, Riley. The sooner you get the food off your plate and into your belly, the sooner you can get back to level seven.”

  That did the trick. Riley quickly grabbed his fork and raised it above his plate.

  Zach reached his arm out and stopped Riley from digging into his food. “Let’s say grace before we eat, champ,” he explained. “God’s been good to us and we should thank Him, especially on Christmas Day.”

  Riley’s warm brown eyes widened as he put his fork back down and folded his hands in his lap; but he couldn’t have been more surprised than Delia was at this moment.

  Zach praying over food? Who was this man and what had he done with the Zach Bowden she had known and loved?

  He glanced at her and shrugged as if it were a commonplace occurrence—and maybe it was, for him. Other than saying a grace by rote over the food at her parents’ house, she couldn’t remember any other situation in which she and Riley had thanked God for a meal.

  Her pride reared in insult. Maybe the reason she didn’t say grace is because she’d been the one putting food on the table, not God. Why thank Him for what she’d worked so hard to achieve?

  Zach bowed his head, and Delia reluctantly followed suit, knowing Riley would do the same. The boy looked up to Zach and clearly wanted to emulate him.

  “Heavenly Father, we thank You for Your goodness and mercy in our lives, especially for the food You’ve provided at this table. Thank You for the opportunity for the three of us to spend time together tonight. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  “Amen,” Riley echoed enthusiastically, clearly wanting to impress Coach Bowden. At a nod from Zach, the boy started forking chicken and mashed potatoes into his mouth as if he were ravenous. Although Delia noted that he studiously avoided the vegetables.

  She didn’t say a word as she picked up her own fork. There was no amen in her heart, and all that served to do was make her feel empty and isolated, two emotions that she went great lengths to avoid.

  She saw Zach watching her inquisitively, but she ignored him and made sure his gaze never caught hers.

  After a moment, she laid a hand on Riley’s arm.

  “Not so fast, son. You’re going to choke if you keep shoveling your food in your mouth that way. And you have to eat your cauliflower or you don’t get to leave the table.”

  “I made it with cheese,” Zach commented. “I think it tastes a little better that way.” He leaned forward and cupped a hand across his mouth so Delia could not see his lips. “I don’t particularly care for vegetables, either,” he said in a mock whisper, “but I knew your mom wouldn’t let me get away with just serving up meat and potatoes.”

  Riley barked out a laugh. Zach winked at Delia and grinned at his success with his son.

  She smiled at Zach and Riley and shook her head in bewilderment.

  “Men,” she muttered helplessly.

  Zach and Riley beamed at each other as if they were VIP members of a classified boys’ club, high up in a tree house where girls were definitely not allowed.

  She didn’t know how she felt about Zach and Riley getting along. Part of her was glad for her son that he would now have a dad; the other part of her was downright jealous, which was, she admitted to herself, quite petty.

  She didn’t want to share Riley’s affections. But, then again, she’d had his full attention for
years. This new situation would take some getting used to. It wasn’t as if they were a family celebrating Christmas together.

  Actually, it was. Biologically speaking anyway.

  The thought gave her a start. Mom, Dad and their nine-year-old son. In theory, a family. In practice, she and Zach were barely on speaking terms and shared custody was going to be difficult.

  Still, it felt good to forgo her solitary lifestyle for a change, especially at Christmas. She’d been alone one too many holidays, and Zach was being pleasant, so she saw no reason not to enjoy the moment for what it was.

  “So I know you play basketball,” Zach told Riley as he cut a bite full of chicken. “Any other sports?”

  Riley shrugged noncommittally. “A few.”

  Delia chuckled at her humble offspring. “He plays nearly every sport the school offers, except maybe track,” she informed Zach. “Anything with a ball and Riley’s on it. He was varsity on all his teams back in Baltimore.”

  “I see.” She expected Zach to be a little bit more enthusiastic about his son’s triumph on the sports field; but, to her surprise, he sounded a little discouraged by Delia’s explanation.

  Zach might not have been much of a jock in high school, but he coached basketball now. So, apparently, sometime in the ten years she’d been gone, he’d learned a little about sports. She couldn’t imagine what was bothering him. She tried again.

  “He was even voted Most Valuable Player at a couple of the games, weren’t you, honey?”

  The boy blushed, but Delia couldn’t tell whether it was from the praise or from embarrassment at his mother calling him honey in front of his coach.

  “That’s great, Riley,” Zach said. He was slightly more animated this time but Delia still thought his voice was strained. “It sounds like there’s not much left to teach you. You probably know more about basketball than I do.”

  A lump formed in Delia’s throat as she realized what was bothering Zach. He hadn’t been there to watch his son grow up. Someone else had taught Riley how to dribble a ball and shoot a hoop. She put herself in his shoes for a moment. This couldn’t be easy on him, realizing all that he had missed.