His Real Father (Harlequin Super Romance)

by Salonen, Debra

  She’d left messages with most of his friends—none would admit that they’d seen Brandon or spoken with him all day. Two of the boys, Rory and Winston, were unaccounted for, too. Rory’s sister said he was at Winston’s. Winston’s mother said he was at Rory’s. Neither seemed too concerned. But Lisa was.

  She was angry, too. Mad at herself for letting humiliation keep her from acting more parental. “I should have taken away his keys and made him talk to me.”

  But, no, she’d let him go. Her personal schemas had taken over. And, now, history was on the brink of repeating itself.

  The thought made her stomach heave. “No. Not Brandon. This isn’t happening.”

  She started toward the phone, intending to check on Joe. He was at his mother’s house, where Lisa had asked him to wait in case Brandon called for a ride—not that that was likely to happen now that Brandon considered Joe the enemy, but she’d felt they both needed the time apart to think.

  The phone rang just as she reached for the receiver.

  “It’s just me,” Jen said. “No word yet?”

  “No,” Lisa said, her voice thin and reedy.

  “Want me to come over?”

  “Good heavens, no. All this angst wouldn’t be good for the baby. Brandon will turn up. Drunk, probably,” she added under her breath.

  “Well, jeez,” Jen said. “Sounds to me like he was looking for a reason to get tanked. You’re a woman, Lisa. You’re entitled to adult desires.” Lisa had given Jen a toned-down version of the story—that Brandon had walked in on his mother and Joe kissing.

  “Thanks for the support, pal. I appreciate the call, but I’d better hang up. We don’t have call waiting.”

  “Okay. Just promise you’ll let me know when he gets home. Safely,” she added authoritatively.

  “I will.”

  “And quit blaming yourself. You’re good at that whole martyr thing, but it doesn’t work this time. You’re the parent. He’s the kid. You are entitled to a life. He’s only going be around full-time for another year. After that, you’ll be alone. Alone, Lisa. If Joe can make you happy, then I say go for it.”

  Lisa tried to smile but couldn’t quite pull it off. “You’re a good friend, Jen. I love you.”

  “Me, too, you.” Something in her tone told Lisa that Jen had more to add. “Um…you weren’t naked, were you?”

  Almost. “I’m hanging up, now.”

  “Ohmygod,” Jen shrieked. “You were.” Jen’s bubbly laugh was the last thing Lisa heard as she replaced the receiver on the hook.

  Shaking her head, Lisa walked into the main hallway leading to the bedrooms. A collage of framed photos—Brandon from birth to seventeen—captured her attention.

  She touched his baby picture. The photo taken at the hospital didn’t do justice to the thick black hair he’d been born with. Maureen had told her it was a family trait and not to worry because it would be replaced by a lighter color. She’d been right. Brandon had been a towhead most his life. Only when his hormones had kicked in had the color darkened to a shade similar to Joe’s.

  Tears filled her eyes, blurring the rest of the images. “I’m so sorry,” she told the serious boy in the most recent shot. “I really made a mess of things, didn’t I?”

  So much for my storybook ending, she thought with a sad smile. She loved Joe, but she couldn’t choose him over her son. That’s what her father had done. He’d picked another daughter to love. Lisa wouldn’t do that to her son.

  JOE STARED OUT the kitchen window. Through a small gap in the fence, he could see the yellow glow from the lights at Lisa’s house. So close, but he knew they were separated by a whole lot more than a fence.

  She’d made it quite clear that she didn’t want his help—or even his shoulder to cry on—while she attempted to find her son.

  Her son. And that’s what Brandon was. Joe hadn’t contributed a dime to the boy’s welfare or the cost of raising him. He would have, of course. If Lisa had asked. But she’d been too independent and proud to consider it, even if she’d thought Joe was Brandon’s father.

  And there was still the matter of proof. Joe didn’t know much about genetics, but he’d once heard a mystery writer talking about a plot involving twins. She’d said that twins had different fingerprints but shared the same DNA. Did that only apply to identicals? Should Joe insist they undertake whatever testing was required to prove paternity? The thought of the emotional turmoil this would create for his family made him want turn around and go back to L.A.

  The sound of the garage door going up alerted Joe to his mother’s arrival. He’d left a message on her cell phone in case Brandon turned to his grandmother for help, but she hadn’t called him back.

  Joe opened the door for her. “’Bout time. I was beginning to worry. Why didn’t you answer your cell phone?”

  She dumped her purse on the counter. “I forgot the charger. The battery is dead. Besides, the service is spotty at the lake, anyway,” she said with a tired attempt at a smile.

  “You were at Gunny’s?” Joe hadn’t thought to call there because Gunny was supposed to be in Napa.

  “Yes. Didn’t Brandon tell you what happened?”

  “No.”

  “That’s funny. When we got back from our trip and found both houses empty, we figured you and Lisa were at Joe’s Place. He went there to find you.”

  Oh, he found us, all right. “We only saw him for a minute. He didn’t mention you.”

  She seemed shocked. “Really? He didn’t tell you the wedding is off?”

  Joe nearly tripped over his feet. “What?”

  “Come and sit down. I’m exhausted.” She walked into the family room. Joe followed. They sat down on the sofa, side by side. “I’d been wrestling with this problem for weeks, but I didn’t know who to talk to. No offense, son, but you’ve been a bit preoccupied. Brandon it turns out was the perfect sounding board. At seventeen, life is very black and white.

  “He asked me if I loved Gunny the way I loved your father. I told him I didn’t but that a second love wasn’t meant to hold the same kind of fire and passion.”

  What if your second love is really your first? She went on before he could ask the question. “And Brandon said, ‘Then why bother, Grams? Why don’t you just hang out and travel together?’”

  Her inward-looking smile seemed to say there was more to the issue, but before Joe could ask, she added, “The more I thought about it, the more I decided he was right. I called Gunny this morning from the motel. We had a long talk on the phone, but he said he wouldn’t take no for an answer until we met face-to-face.”

  Joe touched her shoulder supportively. “I’m sure that couldn’t have been easy for you.”

  “It wasn’t, but I owed him that much. He’s a good man, just not the right man for me.”

  Joe understood all too well. “So, you and Brandon came home early.”

  “We stopped at the outlets in Tracy and I bought him some fancy new shoes he said were hot.” Her smile seemed surprisingly benign considering what she’d been through. “Then I drove around for an hour or so, thinking. I knew it would take Gunny a while to get home from Napa.”

  She looked at him apologetically. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you know where I was. I should have called the bar as soon as we got back, but I couldn’t face Lisa. She’s put so much time and effort into arranging this wedding….”

  “Mom, Lisa adores you. She just wants you to be happy. That’s all that matters to me, too. How did Gunny take it?”

  She clasped her hands in her lap. “Not well. Fortunately, his son from San Francisco—the one you met—showed up. He made his father see that Gunny and I didn’t have enough in common—” she frowned as if remembering the scene “—by which he meant money, of course—-to make a successful marriage.”

  Joe covered her hand with his. “Mom, nobody ever thought you were a gold digger.”

  “Oh, I know, but deep down I always knew his sons didn’t think I was good enough for
their dad. And, in all honesty, they were right.”

  “Mom,” he protested, squeezing her hand. “You’re an amazing person. Gunny would have been lucky to have you in his life.”

  Maureen squeezed back. “Thank you, dear. I appreciate your support. But what I meant is it wasn’t fair to Gunny that I didn’t love him as much as he deserved. I think he loved me, or maybe he just needed someone to take care of again, but regardless, the feelings were one-sided. You can’t build a strong and healthy marriage unless both parties are emotionally committed to each other.”

  The truth of that statement resonated deeply in Joe’s head. Marriage. Committed.

  “Anyway,” she said, brushing her hands together. “The wedding is off. I need to call Lisa, but it’s late. Maybe, I should wait until morning. There’s a lot of stuff to cancel.”

  Joe put his hand on her knee to keep her from rising. “Um, Mom, something happened.”

  Her eyes opened wide. “What? Did you and Lisa have a fight?”

  Joe let his gaze drop to the floor. “Just the opposite actually. Lisa and I were…um…making out when Brandon came into the bar. He saw us.”

  “Oh.”

  “He drove off in a huff. Lisa’s afraid he might be somewhere with his friends…drinking.”

  His mother groaned softly and she put her head against his. “And you haven’t heard from him since? Oh, dear.”

  Both were silent a moment, then Maureen said, “If you and Lisa are together, why isn’t she here?”

  “She went home to use the phone. She’s been calling his friends, and she wanted me to wait here—in case Brandon tried to get in touch with you.”

  They were both silent a minute, then Maureen asked, “He doesn’t know that you could be his father, does he?”

  “No, thank God. And I’ve pretty much made up my mind not to tell him.”

  His mother looked shocked. “Never?”

  He rested his elbows on his knees. Running one hand over the tense muscles in his neck, he let out a long, frustrated sigh. “I don’t know. Lisa and I talked about how to handle this but nothing was decided.”

  Where before Lisa had seemed to treat the issue with some degree of inevitability, after Brandon’s blowup she’d changed her mind completely, saying, “I don’t know if I can do this, Joe. Turn Brandon’s life upside down. Your mother and I both painted a pretty rosy picture of Patrick whenever we talked about him to Brandon. A little boy wants to think his daddy is larger than life—and that’s easy to do when he’s just a memory. If Brandon was this upset seeing us together, can you imagine how well he’d take the news that the man he thought was his father was actually a liar, as well as a drunk?”

  Joe shook his head. “We’re not sure telling the truth would be in Brandon’s best interest. He’d have to take a DNA test, and it might not prove anything. So, why rock the boat?”

  His mother shifted sideways to look at him. “Because you love Lisa. You always have. It’s why you were with her behind Patrick’s back, even though you’re an honorable man and the guilt probably tortured you for years.”

  It still did.

  “That’s the reason you were with her today, right?”

  Joe nodded. He was done lying to himself. He loved Lisa. She was the only woman he’d ever loved.

  “Brandon is an adult, Joe. And wise beyond his years. Shouldn’t he, at least, have all the facts so he can make an informed choice in the matter?”

  “It’s Lisa’s call. She knows Brandon better than I do. I’ll support her decision.” Even if it meant denying what was in his heart.

  He jumped to his feet and started to pace. “What pisses me off most is even from the grave Patrick is running the show. God, I wish he were alive so we could end this stupid competition, once and for all.”

  Earlier that morning, at Lisa’s, Joe had felt a kind of closure, as if he and Patrick had made up and put the past behind them. But for the past few hours, Joe had been filled with fury.

  “After he died, I only wanted to remember the good things about him. But when Lisa told me that he’d lied to her, I started remembering the other side of his personality. Petty, demanding, selfish.”

  Maureen shook her head. “He was human, Joe. Patrick may have acted confident and boastful, but you know as well as anybody that was a sham.”

  Her words stopped him. “I thought I knew him, but now, I’m not so sure. Why did he lie? Why didn’t he talk to me about what Lisa and I did? She told him when she found out she was pregnant, and he said it didn’t matter. But, obviously, it did. He went out and got drunk and drove his car into a canal.”

  His mother looked sad. “Is that what you think happened?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, you’re wrong. He wasn’t upset about you and Lisa. He was celebrating. I know because he called me a few hours before the accident and told me he’d just gotten a promotion. His own route and delivery truck. He planned to take Lisa house hunting the next day.”

  Joe vaguely remembered hearing his mother tell him that the day of the funeral. But he’d blocked it out. For some reason. Guilt? Shame? Fear that he’d be asked to step into a life he’d always eschewed?

  “After Patrick died, Brandon was my ray of hope. He’s the reason I didn’t give up after your father died. I had to go on because I knew how sad my grandson would be if I let go. I couldn’t add to his pain.”

  “You have a special bond with him,” Joe said, trying to keep the envy from his voice. “He needs you.”

  “He needs you, too.”

  Joe rolled the tight muscles in his neck. “Maybe as his uncle who brings photos of starlets, but not as the man who wants to marry his mother.”

  His mother made a bright, happy sound. “You asked Lisa to marry you?”

  He shook his head. “No. I wish I had. Seventeen years ago.”

  Neither spoke for a few minutes. Then Joe asked the question that had lingered in the back of his mind for as long as he could remember. “Mom? Is there a chance that the nurses mixed Patrick and me up when we were born?”

  She looked at him, frowning. “What do you mean? You were the only set of twins born that month.”

  “No. I meant is it possible that Patrick came out first, but in the post-birth mayhem somebody put the wrong wristband—or whatever—on me.”

  She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Of course not. Why does it matter?”

  He shrugged his shoulder. “It doesn’t. Not at all, but when I was looking through some old footage a little while ago, I ran across a piece where Patrick and I were talking about being twins. He said that he’d read that first-born children were leaders and second children were the peacemakers. He was sure the nurses had mixed us up.”

  His mother had a bemused look on her face. “How strange. But he was wrong, because you had pitch-black hair. Your Grandmother Kelly called it the black Irish legacy. And always claimed first-born sons gave the gene to first-born sons. Patrick’s hair was so fair he looked bald.”

  She blinked suddenly and let out a small gasp. Joe looked at her with concern. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Then she smiled. “Where are those photos of Brandon you were scanning?”

  She clambered to her feet and hurried to Joe’s makeshift editing desk. She picked up the album marked Brandon and flipped open the first page. “Black hair. Just like yours.”

  Joe’s knees went screwy and he sat down heavily in his chair. “I…I don’t have black hair in my baby pictures.”

  She nodded. “I know. It all fell out before we could get photos taken. Patrick’s delivery was difficult. The doctor even called for a priest. By the time I left the hospital, you and your brother were both a week old. And money was tight.”

  Joe’s heart was beating erratically but he made himself draw a deep breath. “This doesn’t prove anything, Mom. A coincidence. A fluke.”

  She put her hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t give it much thought when Brandon was born. We were
still grieving for Patrick and Brandon’s birth was the one bright spot in our lives. But after Lisa started acting so strange, I remembered thinking that Patrick must have shared the firstborn gene because you were twins.”

  “That could be it, Mom. We just don’t know. We might never know.”

  “Then you and Lisa owe it to yourselves to be honest. With each other. And with Brandon.”

  She turned and started toward the kitchen. “I’m going to make coffee and call Martin. He’s pretty handy in an emergency.” Glancing over her shoulder, she said, “Go to Lisa’s, son. She shouldn’t be alone at a time like this.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  LISA OPENED THE DOOR at his knock. “Any news?”

  He shook his head. “No, but Mom’s back. She’ll man the phone in case he calls. She thought you might need help pacing. A flagman or something.”

  His lame joke didn’t raise so much as a hint of a smile. “Can I come in?”

  She opened the door wide enough for him to enter. The kitchen was well lit but it felt cold and empty, as if Lisa’s soul was searching for her son. “How ’bout a cup of tea?”

  Her shoulders lifted and fell. She’d changed out of her wet clothes, he noticed. She was wearing stretchy black capris and a rose-colored T-shirt that said Chicks Rule on the front. Joe wanted to hug her, but instead, he filled her kettle with water from the tap and told her about his mother’s decision to call off the wedding.

  “Really?” was all she said.

  He walked to where she was standing and picked up her hand. It was ice cold. “Lisa, snap out of it.” He chafed her hand between his until she looked up at him, puzzled and a bit put out.

  “What do you want from me? My son is missing. I don’t care about your mother’s wedding. Brandon is all that matters at the moment.”

  “I agree, but you’re not thinking about him. You’re remembering the night Patrick died.” She swallowed and jerked back her hand.

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are. I know because I was thinking the same thing. And blaming myself. The same way you are. But that’s going to stop. Right now.”