Her Foreign Affair

by Shea Mcmaster

  Although a look of relief crossed his face, he didn’t question his origin. “So you were going to use it against her in court?” Drew asked.

  “Yes. I’d grown tired of living with a woman of ice. But what really tipped the scale was I’d discovered most of the money I gave her for charities all those years had actually supported her lover and their hideaway. But the divorce papers didn’t set her off…”

  “No, it was the custody issue,” Drew interrupted. “Although the thought of divorce shocked me, in a way I was glad you told her you wanted full custody. At least you spent time with me and didn’t make me go to tea parties. But it did send her around the bend, didn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Court stared out the now dark window, his mood pensive. He didn’t have to tell Drew she’d wanted the maintenance money, not so much the boy himself. “I didn’t wish her dead, but in the end, well, I’m betting God knew best.”

  Court didn’t know what to say afterward, and Drew seemed wrapped in his own thoughts. They’d been over the trauma so many times they didn’t need to do it again. After the argument, Beatrice had stormed from the house only to wrap her car around a tree less than a mile down the road. Court still lived with guilt and occasionally dreamt of the emergency lights flashing in the dark, reflecting off the wet road which had contributed to the slide. He also knew, although Drew had suffered under his mother’s intention to make him into a proper gentleman, he missed her on occasion. Court scrubbed a hand over his face, jet lag and the emotions of the day taking their toll as silence fell. After a moment, his attention shifted back to the women, and by the way Drew cocked his head, Court assumed he did as well.

  Sounds of sobbing at the end of the hall had faded sometime during their talk, and both men listened, doing their best to look as if they weren’t. Long minutes later, Randi and Birdie emerged, Randi slowly leading their return to the family room, Birdie refusing to look at anyone, a stubborn tension about her body. Randi’s eyes were red and swollen, her face still reflecting deep distress. Maybe they hadn’t worked things out yet.

  Without speaking, glasses of water were filled and people drifted to their previous seats.

  Birdie finally looked at him and Court waited. Without a doubt she had questions, and she had a right to interrogate him. He wanted her to accept him. Forgive him. At least make a start at a relationship, if not a father daughter one, then as friends. As much as they could be friends. Birdie was a grown woman, but a young one. A daughter, who would still needed to be mentored. She also had to accept the fact he would be a part of her mother’s life from here on out. A part of her life, as well.

  “All right.” Birdie finally spoke. “I’m named for you. I want to hear your side in all of this.”

  “What do you want me to say? Essentially, your mother hit the basic facts. I didn’t know she was pregnant. I tried to contact her to explain, but she shut me out. Refused phone calls, returned my letters unopened. By then, I was deep in my new job and new married life. It nearly destroyed me to lose her, but I also needed to man up to my life and did the best I could to make it work. At the moment, my heart is at once dancing with joy, yet torn with grief, and a touch of anger. Now I’m learning what I’ve missed out on these past two decades.”

  Birdie still looked wary, but somewhat more accepting. If he’d hoped in his deepest dreams she’d rush to him and cry out with joy at finding her true father, he was sadly mistaken. Clearly, they’d need time. Especially when it came to Drew, who Birdie refused to look at.

  “I can’t change the past,” he said softly, hoping to reach her somehow. “But we can take charge of the future. You were raised by a good man. I’m happy for that. I can’t take his place, nor do I want to. I want my own place in your life. We’ll have to figure it out as we go. Same with you and Drew. Instead of potential lovers, you now each have a sibling to turn to when you need a friend. At least I hope you two can be friends.”

  Birdie, his daughter—the very thought still made him giddy—stared from one person to the next, her gaze altogether avoiding Drew. Still too embarrassing to think about? How close had those two grown in the last few hours? How close had they come to snogging?

  “Well, that’s fine for you all, but where does this leave me?” Clearly Birdie’s period of silence was over. “I mean, I had a dad, and he was great, but now you’re telling me he wasn’t my father, I wasn’t his daughter, and that my real father didn’t know about me until today?” She leaped to her feet and finally addressed Drew, though she attacked him with accusations. “Is that why you chose Stanford? Had you heard something about my mom? Did you seek us out on purpose?”

  Without letting the boy answer, she spun to Court, and he braced for the barrage he deserved. “And what about you? Drew told me his mom’s been gone six years. Why haven’t you tried to find us?”

  “First of all”—Court held up both hands—“I didn’t know about you. Second, I’d talked with her parents only enough to learn your mother had married. Within a month of leaving me.” Bitterness twisted his heart, especially now he knew the whole story, or well, most of it. Still had the bit about Randi almost dying after the birth he wanted more details about. “In my book—my twisted, heartbroken, beaten down book—her marriage told me she hadn’t really loved me. Especially when the three letters I sent her all came back unopened, marked addressee unknown. Remember, the male heart is a terribly fragile organ. I was afraid to go further. Never in my heart did I dare hope for a reunion half this wonderful.”

  Okay, so at the moment, it didn’t feel particularly wonderful, but the fact he’d found Jean, his Jean, even though she used another name, made the day spectacular. Learning of Birdie sent it to the stratosphere. It was too big to contain inside his sorely abused heart. They’d work out the rest; he knew they would.

  Nevertheless, by no means was Birdie done with him. “You can find out anything on the Internet these days, you could have kept searching.”

  “And do you know how many Jean Daileys there are in the world? In the US? There are over a hundred in this area alone, never mind what her married name might be,” Court told her. “I know because I’ve had contact with a private investigator.”

  Oh, but his daughter was a beautiful woman. Even angry and bristling, she had a quality about her he’d seen in his mother and sister, only Birdie didn’t have the training of a lifetime such as came with tradition. She was as wild and free as a palomino running across the plains in an old Western movie. A glorious creature. So like her mother in that regard.

  “If I’d known about you,” Court said quietly, “wild horses, hurricanes, and cruel women wouldn’t have kept me away. I’d have demanded my right to know you.”

  Birdie eased back a little, confusion and uncertainty flitting across her face. But it didn’t stop her long. The next, most obvious, target of her anger sat in the rocking chair, just as shaken as anyone in the room. Possibly second only to Birdie herself, though Court was high on the list.

  “And you.” She glared at her mother. “You married a man you didn’t love. You had choices.”

  “I did. I made the best choice given the circumstances.” Randi sat up in her chair, clearly wanting to go to her daughter, even more clearly afraid to. “As I said before, abortion never crossed my mind.”

  “Why not? You threw him away.” Birdie waved a hand toward Court. “Why not throw me away as well?”

  Randi paled as if she’d been slapped, then her lips firmed in a determined line and she stood, going toe to toe with Birdie. The fact she had to look up at her daughter didn’t lessen the impact one bit. “You were the best thing out of the whole deal, and I’d do it all again if you were my only reward.”

  The entire room froze, and not one person twitched for at least one full minute.

  “When Daddy died, did you think about looking him up?” Birdie stabbed an accusing finger directly at Court. “Didn’t you say something about that earlier?”

  N
ow there was a question Court wanted to hear the answer to. Had she thought of him, wondered about him?

  “I love you, Birdie,” Randi said quietly, breaking the silence. “I love you more than anything else on this earth, and so did your dad. You weren’t neglected, and you never wanted for anything. And it wasn’t because we felt guilty. My only guilt comes from the fact I didn’t love Wyatt as much as he loved us. I tried. I really did, and ultimately, we were as happy as any married couple could reasonably expect. Happy enough that you never felt the lack of anything. And that counts for something. As for searching for Court… I was about to start the process, but you have to remember, your dad hasn’t yet been gone two years. I’m still adjusting, still mourning. Wyatt and I had our own love story. I loved him in my own way, and I miss him very much. I always will.”

  Mentally shuddering at the travesty that had been his marriage, the years of emptiness filled only with Drew and the growth of the company, Court felt envious for a moment, then decided his marriage to Beatrice had been just punishment for letting Randi go. He’d paid, and now he was done paying. And the evening had taken a rather too intense turn.

  Birdie still stared at her mother as if she were a stranger she never wanted to see again. Although Birdie didn’t speak, she wasn’t cold. No, she trembled and her skin held a flush of high color, blue eyes flashing like lasers. Not one bit of ice anywhere. If anything, she looked like a dormant volcano getting ready to blow off twenty years of pressure.

  “Look,” he said softly, and Birdie flinched ever so slightly. “This has all been rather…”

  Randi turned to him. “Melodramatic? Ready for the Made-for-TV-Movie-of-the-Month?”

  “I had in mind a poorly produced Shakespearean tragedy, but the results are the same.” The corner of his mouth crept up.

  Randi gave him a tired smile, and the stresses of the day seemed to sweep over her all at once. She’d shown signs of exhaustion on the doorstep, but she’d rallied. Any reserves she’d drawn on to make it through this confession were now used up. She turned to Birdie and touched her arm, rubbing lightly, trying to offer comfort to the young woman standing as still as carved marble. “Sweetheart, you and Drew were considering a soak in the spa. Why don’t you two go ahead and then get a good long sleep. In the morning, we’ll talk some more and figure things out. All right?”

  Birdie shook herself, as if coming out of a dream. “Um… I don’t really…”

  “Come on, Bird.” Drew stood and stretched. “We’re still friends. Let’s go boil and form evil plots of revenge against the parents. They deserve to be double teamed.”

  Startled, Birdie looked over her shoulder. “Uh—okay.”

  Randi dropped her hand and stepped back, when all she probably wanted to do was wrap her arms around her tall daughter. The daughter, without looking at her mother, or him, turned toward the bedrooms at the end of the hall off the family room.

  “Let me get my car keys, and we’ll get the bags,” Birdie said.

  “The old codger and I will get the bags,” Drew said. “Get me your keys. I need to find those hideous swim togs you made me buy.”

  Birdie blushed but handed over the keys, and Court found himself following Drew out to the car.

  “Good going, old lag,” Drew drawled. “You really know how to bring down the house. A trick you picked up from some of your actress friends?”

  “Funny.” He grabbed his case from the boot. “I’m sorry I never knew about her.”

  Drew’s hand landed on his shoulder. “Me too. Woulda been a little more fun having her around, then again, I can only imagine Mum’s reaction.”

  Court barked out a short harsh laugh. “You think she didn’t throw my love for ‘that American’ in my face as often as possible already? She was very careful to never say a word in front of you, but anytime she wished to share her misery, she used it like a knife. With those two birds in our lives…” He sighed. “The times with them would have been heaven, while the times with her, would have been unimaginable.”

  “Well, things happen for a reason, you always say. Suppose it will be clear eventually.” Drew slung the strap of Birdie’s bag over his shoulder and picked up his own case.

  Court shut the boot lid. “You’re right, and they do. I wish the lessons didn’t always have to be so painful.”

  “Ah, but how much sweeter the victory, eh?” Drew gave him a wink.

  “What do you think of all this?” Court leaned against the car. His son had his own way of interpreting events. How little Randi truly realized the accuracy of comparing the lad to a retriever. Drew took things in, mulled them around a little bit, adjusted his stride, and didn’t waste time sweating over petty details, but he would keep going until he had every detail gathered up.

  “Not sure yet. Bloody ironic, don’t you think? I am a bit horrified that I came damn close to putting the moves on my own sister, though. Cut it a little fine on the timing, old man.”

  Court shuddered. “You caught us as we discussed the need to tell you two.”

  Drew grinned. “That’s what you call discussing things?”

  Court shot him a mock glare, but secretly, he loved the teasing. Drew had no issues with him pursuing Randi once more.

  “However,” Drew said. “Had I known I had a sister over here, I might have done a little more investigating before tripping her. Why didn’t you tell me you were looking for an old flame?”

  Court shrugged. “Didn’t know I’d find her this trip or if ever. Didn’t know what would happen if I did find her. Didn’t want to make myself look any more foolish than possible. And since I never suspected the involvement of a child, I certainly never expected you to be trying to date your own sister.”

  They shared chagrined smiles.

  Drew clapped his hand on Court’s shoulder. “Going to start things up again with Randi?” He took two steps toward the house, then stopped and looked back. “Do I call her Randi or Mother?”

  Stunned, Court paused mid-stride, and stared at his son. “Why would you want to call her Mother?”

  “I miss having a mum, and if you’re going to marry her… Think she’d mind being adopted? Just her ability to cook alone is worthy of the title.” Without waiting for a reply, Drew strode into the house, leaving Court gobsmacked in the cooling evening.

  From inside, Court heard Birdie ask Drew, “So, Kevin Westerfield is talking about me? Really?”

  “He’s a player and not touching my sister.” Drew growled at Birdie who answered with a huff. If she had another comment, Court couldn’t hear it as they moved deeper into the house. For a moment, it sounded exactly like Court and his sister Liza had nearly thirty years before.

  He rubbed his face and turned his thoughts to his son. Drew missed a mum. All in all, he shouldn’t be terribly surprised. Sure, Bea may not have been the most attentive mother in the world—or rather, attentive in the wrong way as far as Drew had sometimes complained—but a boy loved his mum no matter what. Apparently, he’d done his grieving. One more sign of his easy affection and relaxed nature. Where he got that from, Court could only speculate.

  He drew in a lungful of fresh air. Cool, but not cold. The air felt soft and held the fragrance of autumn, wood smoke and the decay of fallen leaves. A few hardy flowers clung to their bushes in protected corners. Overhead, the first twinkling stars had begun to appear as the last vestiges of dusk faded behind the hills to the west.

  Laughter could be heard as car engines turned over and doors slammed. The flickering lights of TVs glowed from a few windows, shadows of people moved behind others. From where he stood he could see five homes gathered around the circle, each one looking into each other’s windows and probably lives. Neighbors who watched out for each other. Neighbors who shared in the everyday dramas. Much like the one across the street watching him from the window. Court acknowledged him with a nod that was returned, letting him know Randi had someone watching over. As she should. Only now, it
would be him taking main watch. The neighbor—Tuck, she’d called him?—moved to the backup position.

  He could have lived here. He could have loved this life. How much better would life have been for him, for Drew, if they’d lived here with Randi and Birdie? Would it have been better for Drew, knowing he had a sister? How much more miserable would Beatrice have made his life if they’d shared custody but not a house? Would he have fought for shared custody or abandoned his son to Beatrice?

  But there had been that other life. The one he’d chosen without knowing all the facts. The one he’d been bred by ten generations to live. If he envied the Americans anything, it was their clean slates. Most of them didn’t know their true origins and didn’t care. Centuries of ancestry didn’t watch them from dusty oils hanging on gallery walls. Few of them had the burden of being landed gentry, carrying on the ancient traditions, acting as stewards for the next generation. Waiting their turn to be a portrait on the gallery walls.

  His daughter had been raised here. She’d learned to walk, ride a bike, kick a ball, and swim. All in the arms of her mother and another man.

  It should have been him.

  “Court?”

  Randi’s soft voice reached into his heart and twisted it around her little finger. Instead of whining about the years he’d missed, he should be thankful for the years ahead, years to come, years spent with his girls. Not Wyatt’s girls. Court’s girls. Though Wyatt had done a fine job caring for them in his place. Couldn’t hate a bloke for that.

  “Court? Is there a reason we’re heating the outside?”

  Hiking the strap of his bag up over his shoulder, he spun around and found Randi standing on the threshold, hands over her bare arms, rubbing up and down to chase away the goose bumps he could see in the light from the fixture.

  “Just taking in the neighborhood.” He stepped toward her, hoping she’d hold her ground, but alas, she moved back, letting him into the house. The door shut with a satisfying thump and click as she turned the deadbolt lock.