What Mattered Most

by Linda Winfree

  “Basically, you make decisions about the child together. One of you would be granted possession of the child, the other visitation. The law specifies every first, third and fifth weekend, plus extended visitation during school holidays.”

  Sonny sighed in his sleep, and John stared down at him, trying to imagine only seeing him a couple of days every other week. The baby grew and changed daily. Loss squeezed his chest. He didn’t want to miss anything, not one second of Sonny’s life. In one short week, his son had gained a stronger hold on him than any other person ever had, with one possible exception—Lanie.

  Jeff cleared his throat, drawing John’s attention. “Are you sure there’s no hope for reconciliation?”

  John shook his head. He’d spent half the night looking for that hope and hadn’t found it. “She won’t even see me.”

  “Well, I called Troupe Cavanaugh’s office this morning. You know he’s the cousin’s grandfather—the FBI agent. Besides being one of the area’s most politically connected judges, he’s a damn good lawyer. I clerked for him one summer. At this point, it would seem that Lanie’s only concern is that you not remove the child from the jurisdiction. She’s not seeking possession. The fact that she hasn’t asked you to leave the house is good, too. But, John?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Get the damn DNA test done. Today.”

  The hallway looked like ten miles instead of fifty feet. The half Lanie had already walked felt like a hundred miles. With a hand on the wheeled IV stand, she put one foot in front of the other and told herself to stop feeling sorry for herself. She could still walk. Others in her situation couldn’t.

  “You’re doing great,” Caitlin said, hands tucked in the back pockets of her jeans.

  “Oh, screw you, Cait.” Lanie wished the words back as soon as they were out, but Caitlin only laughed her rare, rich chuckle.

  “Lanie?” John’s quiet voice sent shock slithering over her nerves. She didn’t want to him to see her so weak.

  With Caitlin’s hand steadying her, Lanie turned her head in his direction. He stood a few feet away, his dark hair windblown, the baby carrier in one hand and a small diaper bag slung over his injured shoulder. “What do you want, John? I told you I didn’t want you here.”

  “I know.” His navy gaze flickered over her face and away. He swallowed, and she watched the muscles move in his throat. “I had to bring Sonny in to see Dr. Ridley, and I thought you might want to see him.”

  His voice trailed away, and he shifted his weight. Lanie narrowed her eyes, not wanting to notice how awful he looked. Exhaustion shadowed his eyes, and although the swelling around his nose had disappeared, the bruising remained, a dull purple mixed with yellow. He’d lost weight, his low slung jeans hanging at his hip bones.

  She glared at him, glad he looked miserable. “Heard from Beth lately?”

  “No. I told you—” He bit off the words, and his shoulders slumped. “Do you want me to leave him with you or not? If you do, I can go grab a cup of coffee.”

  “That would be great.” Making the decision for her, Caitlin stepped forward and took the carrier from him. He handed her the bag as well.

  He jerked a hand through his hair. “I’ll be back in a little while, then.”

  One hand wrapped around the metal stand until her knuckles ached, Lanie watched him walk away. She wanted anger and hatred, wanted to feel satisfaction at his dejected demeanor. Instead, despondency weighted her chest.

  “Come on.” Caitlin smiled and nudged her toward the room. “Let’s get you two settled.”

  The slow walk back to the room depleted Lanie’s flagging strength. Once back in bed, she watched Caitlin lift the baby from the carrier and snuggle him under her chin. A wistful expression flitted across Caitlin’s face, replaced in an instant with a bright, too cheerful smile. “He’s grown.”

  Caitlin settled the tiny stranger in Lanie’s embrace. He was awake and stared up at her with dark blue eyes surrounded by a fringe of dark lashes. She waited for the rush of emotion, the connection she’d heard so much about. Nothing stirred within her, and guilt clogged her throat. This was her baby, the one person she was supposed to love most in the world, and she didn’t even feel like he was hers.

  Oh God, it was worse than she’d thought. She wasn’t like her mother. At least she’d never doubted her mother’s love. Instead, she’d turned into her father—incapable of loving her own child.

  “Lanie?”

  At the soft concern in Caitlin’s voice, tears swam in Lanie’s eyes. She shook her head, blinked them back, and glanced up to meet her cousin’s insightful gaze. “I don’t think walking was such a great idea. I’m tired.”

  Caitlin rested her head on her hand. “You know that whole business about instant bonding between mother and child is a lot of hype, right?”

  Lanie shot her a glare. “How would you know?”

  The baby yawned, his mouth open so wide Lanie could see his tongue, toothless gums, and the back of his throat. The tiny hand lying against his cheek flexed, fingers opening and closing. The weight of him in her arms dragged at her heart. “I wanted him so much.”

  The raw whisper hung in the air. Caitlin leaned forward and rubbed at Lanie’s arm, a comforting gesture. “Of course you did. You still do, Lane, but look what you’ve gone through in the last week. Give yourself some time to heal.”

  Lanie rubbed a finger down his cheek, lost in the sensation of the impossible softness. Wispy dark hair stuck out on his head and brushed her arm. “He’s so perfect.”

  “Look at that Falconetti chin. You’ll have your hands full in a couple of years if he’s as stubborn as the rest of us.”

  That seemed impossibly far in the future. She didn’t know what would happen tomorrow or next week, and sometimes couldn’t remember what she’d done an hour ago. The chill of worry stabbed through her stomach again. With a small sigh, he closed his eyes. Lashes fanned over his cheeks. “He has John’s eyes. And his hands.”

  The words caught in her throat. She burst into tears, and Caitlin’s fingers tightened on her arm in silent comfort. The baby startled in Lanie’s hold, and his eyes opened. He blinked a couple of times, scrunched his face up, and howled. While sobs and panic racked her body, Lanie shifted him into Caitlin’s surprised hold. “Take him back to John. Please. I can’t do this right now.”

  Hands wrapped around an untouched cup of coffee, John stared out the cafeteria window. People streamed in and out of the hospital parking lot, in pairs or small groups, some carrying flowers, holding hands, leaning on each other for support. He watched them, trying to remember a time when he felt more alone.

  This is what it would be like, those days when Sonny Buck was with Lanie. Just him. The idea scared him. How was it possible to get so attached to someone in seven short days?

  Even worse was the prospect that he’d lost Lanie for good. He had no one to blame but himself. His lack of honesty had destroyed her trust, and he had to find a way to rebuild it. On the drive back from Houston, he’d been able to think of nothing else. The first step, the one that scared the living hell out of him, had sneaked into his mind while he crossed the Wesley Parker Memorial Bridge coming into Cutter.

  “Hi.” Caitlin’s husky voice jerked him out of the reverie. She set the carrier with the diaper bag balanced in it on the table. Cuddled in the curve of her arm, Sonny Buck grumbled. “I think someone’s hungry.”

  The cold lump in his stomach lightened somewhat. He grinned, taking his son from her. “Hey, big guy. Did you miss your old man? I bet you had a good visit with your mom.”

  He quirked an inquiring brow at Caitlin and frowned at her uncomfortable expression. She sighed and shook her head, pulling out the empty chair at the table. “Her emotions are really close to the surface right now.”

  With Sonny in one arm, he reached for the diaper bag and the bottle he’d prepared earlier. He glanced at Caitlin from the corner of his eye. “I don’t want her worried that I’m going to try t
o take off with him or anything, but I, um, I did talk to my lawyer this morning.”

  Caitlin’s only reply was a short, cool nod.

  John cleared his throat. “I had the blood test done to establish my paternity, but that’s it. I’m not doing anything else right now. I don’t want her to think I’m going to fight her for custody or anything. I just needed to make sure everything was legal.”

  She lifted one shoulder in an off-hand shrug. “So you’re not going to sue her for custody while she’s recovering from major surgery. What do you want from me, O’Reilly, kudos for your sensitivity?”

  Dealing with this woman required the patience of a damned saint. John bit back the first words that sprang to mind, the ones that definitely wouldn’t earn him any kudos. He shifted his gaze to Sonny Buck’s face. Eyes closed, the baby suckled the bottle with single-minded bliss. She was right, though. With Lanie, his track record sucked.

  He glanced up at her to find her watching him with a narrow-eyed glare that reminded him of Lanie. His throat ached. “No. I wanted you to make sure she knew that. I didn’t want her to worry.”

  Her harsh laugh grated on his jangling nerves. “You don’t want her to worry. That’s nice, considering she might not even be here if it weren’t for you.”

  “Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think I live with that every second of every day?” His voice cracked, and Caitlin lifted one elegant eyebrow.

  “Good,” she said. “Maybe now you’ll be thinking of her before yourself.”

  She walked away. John rubbed a hand over his eyes. Despite what Caitlin believed, he was trying to put Lanie’s needs first.

  “She’s worth it though, isn’t she, Sonny Buck?” he whispered, feathering a finger over the baby’s cheek. Sonny turned in his direction and smiled. John laughed, but a chill stripped some of the proud warmth from around his heart. What if his risk didn’t pay off? He’d not only lose Lanie, but Sonny Buck, too. He had to make this work because if he didn’t, he stood to lose everything that mattered.

  Chapter Eleven

  “What do you mean, no?” Lanie pleated the blanket between her fingers in an effort to stave off the panic curling in her throat. The early morning quiet of the hospital pushed in on her nerves. If she never had before, she needed Caitlin now.

  Caitlin pulled the dry cleaner’s plastic from Lanie’s white sweater and hung it up on the back of the bathroom door. “Just what I said. No.”

  “Cait, please.” She hated the pleading note in her voice, almost hated Caitlin for making her ask again. “I can’t do this by myself.”

  With a sigh, Caitlin perched on the foot of the bed. “Lanie, you’re the closest thing I ever had to a sister, and despite the crap there’s been between us over the years, I love you. But I can’t do this for you.”

  “You mean you won’t.”

  “That, too. Damn it, I can’t, okay?” Distress crackled along Caitlin’s voice for a moment, then disappeared under her customary control again. “I have to get back to Virginia. Tristan will be there when you need her, and O’Reilly seems to be making out okay with the baby. You’ll be fine.”

  Trapped in the house with John, surrounded by memories of the way it had been, the way she’d wanted it to be. Trapped in the house where a madman had brought all her dreams to a crashing end. Oh, yeah, she’d be just dandy. Lanie blew out a shaky breath. She wasn’t ready for this. She’d been trying to tell her doctors for two days that she wasn’t ready to go home yet. They weren’t listening, so she was headed home today.

  Home to her baby, and that meant home to John. She wasn’t sure what frightened her more—the thought of not having enough emotion where the baby was concerned or too much where John was.

  “Lanie?” Caitlin’s concerned voice cut across her musings, and Lanie looked up to find her cousin’s intense green gaze on her. “You don’t have to have him in the house. You can ask him to leave.”

  “I know.” Didn’t Caitlin realize she’d agonized over that? While stoking her resentful anger against him, she’d indulged in fantastic scenarios of throwing him out of the house and her life, throwing him out of the baby’s life. Only the remembered loneliness of her own childhood stopped her. According to all accounts, John had turned into a devoted father. She couldn’t deprive her baby of that.

  “Do you need any help?”

  Lanie gathered her scattered thoughts and swung her legs off the bed in a slow, cautious motion. “I can do it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I said I can do it.” The words came out sharper than she intended. Getting dressed was something she had to do on her own. If not, what would she do once she returned home? Ask John? Hardly. Besides the fact that she never intended to get naked with the deceitful bastard again, the idea of baring her post-pregnancy body to him or anyone else bothered her. The Cesarean scar didn’t bother her. The stomach bulge and stretch marks were a different matter.

  In the bathroom, with Caitlin standing watch outside the door, Lanie slipped the hospital gown over her head. The abdominal incision was on its way to healing, but she touched her stomach with ginger movements. Having him see her when she’d been large with pregnancy hadn’t bothered her. The urgency of his desire had made her feel beautiful and sexy.

  Sex, she reminded herself. That’s all. To keep his mind off Beth. Anyone would have done. With painstaking care, she pulled on the sweater and loose, flowing black slacks. Even the simple act of dressing exhausted her. Hands clenched on the cool porcelain sink, she blew out shaky breaths between parted lips. Her arms trembled from supporting her weight, and she lifted her head, staring into the mirror.

  Pulling on the sweater had shifted the camouflaging layer of hair from the incision area. The pale skin of her scalp glowed, a blue-white color. The black stubble of her returning hair fuzzed around the row of angry stitches. She averted her gaze and blinked away an assault of tears. With a slow, shaky breath, she knuckled the tears away. Stupid to be upset about her looks when she was lucky to be alive.

  “Hey,” Caitlin called with a soft rap on the door. “Okay in there?”

  “I’m fine.” Lanie pushed down the unreasonable anger that lay banked in her stomach all the time, waiting for the slightest provocation. The effort required to contain the emotion frightened her. She’d always had a quick temper, but had learned to smother it with a self-control that rivaled Caitlin’s. This anger seemed to be a separate entity, not a part of her personality.

  Eyes closed, she took several deep breaths and hoped her nerves would calm. Sucking up her resolve, she opened the door, ready to face Caitlin, far from ready to face what awaited her at home.

  The coastal drive didn’t take long enough. Fiddling with her seatbelt, Lanie stared out the window. Where before the sight of the ocean, the boardwalk and the colorful homes had been her favorite part of the drive home, the familiar landmarks only heightened her anxiety. Her stomach tightened, and her heart thudded against her ribs in a rough, uncomfortable rhythm. The ache in her head intensified.

  The driveway was empty—only her car sat under the carport. Lanie took a deep breath and stared at her house, the memories skittering through her mind, pinching her with sharp claws. She pushed the car door open and sat a moment, trying to gather her strength. Caitlin appeared at the side of the car with a smile of encouragement on her face.

  Climbing the long front steps took forever and left her feeling wrung out. Blinking back tears, she tried not to remember that climbing them while pregnant had been easier.

  The house smelled different, and she paused in the foyer, leaning on Caitlin’s supportive arm, attempting to decipher the difference. Cinnamon and vanilla mingled with something cleaner, softer. Baby powder. The weak tears threatened again.

  The sheer drapes in the living room, thrown wide, let the weak winter sunlight fill the room. John’s leather chair had been pushed to one side to make room for a battery-operated baby swing. A couple of tiny diapers, a bottle of baby powde
r, and a box of wipes shared the coffee table with the newspaper and a sports magazine. The portable bassinet sat at the end of the couch, empty.

  Unease stirred in her stomach. The house was too quiet, too empty. The last time it had been this quiet, it had been far from empty. Remembered fear sent bile pushing up her throat.

  “O’Reilly left you a note.” Caitlin’s voice pulled her back from the abyss. Lanie released her fingers from their death grip on the couch’s back and glanced at her cousin. Eyes narrowed in concern, Caitlin handed her the piece of paper.

  Ran out of formula. Went to store. Be back soon.

  She crumpled the note and John’s typical telegraphic words. Panic washed through her in waves. She couldn’t do this—couldn’t live in this house with him under these circumstances. He had to go. If Caitlin wouldn’t stay, she could hire someone. Her lungs closed, refusing to allow air in.

  “Lanie.” Caitlin’s cool fingers caught her wrist. “Breathe. Slowly. In and out. Come on—that’s it.”

  The rush of emotion subsided but left her knees weak. Agony pounded behind her eyes. She rubbed a hand over her face and blew out a shaky sigh.

  “We’re getting you into bed.” Caitlin’s voice brooked no arguments. “Can you manage the stairs or do you want—”

  “I can make it.”

  Again, the climb was arduous. If the effort hadn’t taken her breath, the sight of her bedroom would have. The stamp of John’s personality was gone from the room. The bare top of his bureau glared at her. The closet door stood open, revealing his half to be empty.

  Alarm exploded in her head. The note had been a ruse. He hadn’t gone to the store, but had ignored the court order, taken her baby and disappeared. Sagging, she groped for Caitlin’s hand. “Cait…he…he’s gone.”

  Caitlin’s sharp gaze darted around the room, but her voice remained soothing. “We don’t know that—”

  “Check the baby’s room.” She envisioned it in her mind, the bureau drawers open, the tiny T-shirts and blankets gone. The panic in her voice frightened her. Caitlin made no effort to move, and the fearful anger flashed through her again. “Now! Please!”