A Mother's Secret

by Janice Kay Johnson

  Maybe not. The Sunset District, where Josephine Fraser had raised Adam and then Daniel, had been for the working class, with modest tract houses that were now, of course, worth a small fortune given the proximity to the ocean beaches. The Carsons, far more prosperous, had lived in the hilly neighborhood of Twin Peaks, newly developed after the war for San Franciscans with money and craving a view. He almost hoped, for his mom’s sake, that she hadn’t seen Jenny.

  Or, later, Jenny’s daughter, Sue—God, her grandchild, as much as Joe was.

  As if aware of his scrutiny, Sue returned his gaze, her brown eyes speculative. “I’m glad to see you, Daniel. I’ve hoped to get to know you better.”

  Everyone else was talking. Kaitlin had gone to lean against her dad. Since no one else was listening, Daniel chose to be blunt. “The fact that we’re related seems academic to me at this point.”

  Her curved brows rose. “Too little, too late?”

  Ostensibly relaxed, he smiled and inclined his head. Interesting that she’d echoed his own thoughts. “Something like that. And—” he moved his shoulders in an easy shrug “—since your mother is only my half sister, that makes you…what? A quarter related to me?”

  He could see his mother in her, disconcerting given that, aside from the auburn hair, he didn’t see her when he looked at himself in the mirror every morning when he shaved. He didn’t see his father in himself, either, which was fine by him; his father had given up on the marriage to Jo before Daniel started kindergarten, and hadn’t been much of a parent thereafter, either.

  It was an irony that, despite blond hair, this Sue Bookman—no, Kraynick now, since her marriage—looked more like his mother than he did.

  She conceded Daniel’s point with a mild, “Still, we’re related. All of this has been amazing. Strange as it is to find out my grandfather had, well…”

  “A lover?”

  “Another woman he loved,” she corrected. “I was going to say, strange as it is, I appreciate knowing who Mom’s parents really were. With Grandma gone…” Her voice briefly faltered, before she finished more quietly, “I like the idea that I have actual biological relatives besides Mom.”

  Daniel could see that. Her mother had grown up believing she was adopted. Robert had never told her that he was really her father. And Joe had said that Sue was especially close to her grandmother, whose death had precipitated all these revelations.

  “So…I’d like to know who you are,” she finished. “Is that so bad?”

  “No,” he conceded. “Maybe I’m having a harder time because I’m not one generation removed. It was my mother who had an affair with a married man and gave up her own baby.”

  “That makes sense.” She smiled at him. “No pressure, I promise.”

  They tuned in to the general conversation to find that Belle was explaining how their mothers were caring for Sue and Rick’s babies—two fosters, as well as a toddler who was their own, in a manner of speaking. They had adopted Rick’s niece after her troubled mother had died.

  “Mom and Aunt Jenny will stay busy changing diapers and cooing.” Belle smiled. “Leaving them in charge was a good excuse. We didn’t want to overwhelm you with family.”

  It seemed to Daniel she was looking at him when she said that, but maybe he was imagining things.

  He slipped away to use the restroom, coming out to find Belle waiting her turn in the short hallway. “With a baby on the way, Joe and Pip are going to have to find a bigger place to live,” she said, “preferably with two bathrooms.” Starting past him, she brushed against his shoulder, then stopped, her hand going to her earlobe. “Shoot. Did I just lose my earring?”

  She was undeniably wearing only one, long and dangly with freshwater pearls strung on gold. He looked to see whether she’d snagged it on his shirt, but then she cried, “Oh, there it is,” and bent to pick it up. As she did, the filmy shirt she wore over a camisole rode up, leaving a gap of pale flesh between the hem and the waistband of her low-cut black slacks.

  He was already turning away when his brain processed what his eyes had just seen. He swung back, gripping her arm as she straightened with the earring in her hand. “Wait,” he said, his voice guttural.

  Her eyes widened. “What?”

  “I saw something on your back.”

  “On my back?” Comprehension cleared the alarm from her expression. “Oh. You mean, my birthmark? It’s shaped like Italy, and some people think it’s a tattoo until they look closely.”

  He cut her off. “Show me.”

  “I…” She stopped, studied his face for a moment, then dipped her head in acknowledgment and turned, lifting her shirt.

  God. How could this be? Stunned, he stared at the brown mark, no more than an inch tall, shaped, as she’d said, like a map of Italy.

  He’d seen one just like it. Saw it any time he caught a glimpse of his backside in a mirror.

  CHAPTER TWO

  DANIEL KNEW HE WAS GAPING.

  Could birthmarks be familial? But…he and Belle weren’t related. Her father was Sarah and Robert Carson’s biological child. This made no sense.

  He turned, lifted the hem of his shirt and pushed down the waistband of his slacks. She stared in equal shock at his matching birthmark.

  “I don’t understand,” she whispered.

  The birthmark, something Daniel normally never thought about, felt at this moment like a brand, burned into his flank. His gaze kept creeping down toward her hip. She stared at him with equal fascination.

  After a moment, she shook her head. “It can’t be coincidence.”

  Behind him, Joe said jovially, “You two blocking the bathroom for a reason?”

  Wordless, Belle lifted her shirt again and angled herself so that Joe could see the birthmark.

  “Goddamn,” Joe breathed, turning to stare, stunned, at Daniel. “Isn’t that exactly like…?”

  “My grandfather…” Earring still in her hand, Belle was obviously grappling with the obvious. “He was your father, too, wasn’t he?”

  In a burst of fury, Daniel slapped a hand against the wall. Framed pictures hung on it jumped and rattled. “Why the…” He swallowed the obscenity that had been about to slip out. “Why would Mom have gone back to that bastard?”

  What Daniel would have given to be able to call Adam and say, What do you remember? But Adam was gone, and there was no one else to ask.

  Dad. Suddenly, sickeningly, Daniel knew; there was an excellent reason Vernon Kane had never been very interested in his supposed son by Josephine. He must have suspected.

  Had Jo married Vern only to provide a father and a name for the child she already knew she carried? Had she used him that ruthlessly? No wonder their marriage hadn’t lasted.

  “It can’t be.” Daniel realized he was shaking his head in denial. Denial he knew was false. Still, he argued, “We’re jumping to conclusions. There might be another explanation. Something they did to us in the hospital when we were babies. A treatment given on the same spot…”

  “Weak.”

  Daniel glared at his nephew. “I’m trying to be logical here.”

  “We need to give samples for DNA testing,” Belle said. “Then we’ll know, one way or the other.”

  Daniel looked only to Belle. “You’ll do it?”

  “Well, of course I will!” she said indignantly. “Although it’s really weird to think of Grandad and your mom getting back together so many years later….”

  So many years. She wasn’t kidding. Daniel had been born twenty years after his big brother.

  “Or continuing their affair all those years,” Joe put in.

  Daniel shook his head. “Adam would have known, I think. And Mom sure wasn’t seeing anyone when I was a kid.”

  “But maybe marrying Vern was her way of ending the relationship with Robert.”

  “God.” Daniel rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe.”

  “You want to know, right?” Belle asked.

  Did he? Would it make an
y real difference in his life?

  No, he thought. Of course not. His mother was dead, Robert Carson was dead. There would be no heartwarming chance to get to know his real father, if indeed Carson was his biological father. The results of a DNA test might raise more questions than it answered. If Robert Carson had been the love of Jo Fraser’s life, and Daniel, too, was Robert’s son, why had she so clearly favored Adam?

  Maybe it was just me, he thought bleakly, then reminded himself that how his mother had felt about him was history. He was all grown-up and no longer seeking his mommy’s love.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah. I want to know.”

  She nodded in satisfaction, and he felt a shift inside him. There was a link between them, unexpected and even unsettling. Maybe this was what Joe had felt earlier, discovering family.

  Jenny Carson would be his full—not half—sister, Daniel realized. Arrogant Sam would be his half brother, and the pretty blonde smiling at him would be his niece. Half niece.

  Hell, what difference did that make? She’d be related.

  Adam and Joe had been enough for Daniel. Not since he was a child had he craved extended family. But the truth did matter to him. He’d spent a lifetime wondering why his mother had been able to give Adam affection she hadn’t given him, why his father hadn’t cared enough to spend time with him after the divorce. He had to know.

  “Let’s do it,” he said. “But…can we not tell everyone today?”

  They agreed, saving him from an hour of public speculation.

  The two cousins left shortly thereafter, taking the husband and fiancé with them. Daniel pretended to enjoy his coffee a little longer before saying, “Merry Christmas,” a last time and making his getaway.

  Driving home, he was struck by the fact that, assuming all this was true, Robert Carson should have guessed Daniel was his kid. Guessed, and apparently had no trouble staying away.

  So it appeared he had two fathers, the one on his birth certificate and his actual biological father, neither of whom had wanted to claim him.

  Objectively, he knew Carson’s reasons had nothing to do with Daniel himself. Why would they? He’d probably never even seen him. Vernon Kane had, but it wasn’t as if, in photos, Daniel had been an ugly kid. Adam had insisted Daniel was born cheerful and ready to like everyone. His reserve and cynicism were learned, not innate. But at some point Vern had begun to suspect Daniel wasn’t his son.

  It was also true that, for whatever reason, Daniel’s own mother had been less than enthusiastic about motherhood when he was born.

  Occasionally, like now, the knowledge still hurt. Maybe the hurt had a sharper edge today, given this new revelation. Shrugging it off, it occurred to him that now, at last, he might be able to understand why she’d been ambivalent about him. Think of the stress, having to wonder whether he’d been fathered by her husband or her lover.

  Daniel had turned down a street that was gaudily lit with Christmas lights on every house, where Santas and elves and crèches were wedged into small front yards. The sight raised his spirits.

  Hallelujah, he thought. Christmas was officially over.

  REBECCA BEGAN TO RELAX as Christmas came and went. If Daniel had been going to call, he would have done it by now. Clearly, he’d taken the hint.

  She’d blown her worries out of proportion. Okay, he’d given her a passing thought now and again. Nonetheless, in five years, he hadn’t mustered enough interest to come after her. So then they’d run into each other unexpectedly, and on impulse he’d been about to ask her out. He’d likely been thinking—as she unwillingly was, as well—about how good the sex they’d shared was.

  She rolled her eyes. Not good—fabulous. Extraordinary. They had been hungry for each other until the very end.

  That is, when they were together. Those last couple of months, he’d called less and less often. Conversation became superficial. His expression was often brooding when he thought he was watching her unobserved. She had guessed he’d met another woman, someone whose conversation did inspire him where hers had begun to bore him. What other explanation was there?

  And then—oh, God, then—she had realized she was pregnant.

  Don’t think about it, she told herself now. What was the point? Daniel had made it clear marriage and family were not in their future. She, in turn, had had to make a decision.

  Abortion wasn’t an option for her. Neither was bringing a child into the world only to hand him off every other weekend—or, God forbid, for half of every week—to a man who hadn’t wanted to have children in the first place. She, of all people, knew the costs of that kind of childhood. She and her sister had paid them.

  No, thank you.

  She would be enough for this baby, she had decided fiercely. And she had been. She was.

  Malcolm was a happy, confident child.

  Rebecca was proud of him at Christmas. He’d ripped into his gifts with glee but he had been just as excited to watch her open his present to her, a pencil jar made of ceramic coils that wobbled and listed their way upward and were glazed a peculiar shade of purplish-brown. He and his preschool classmates had all made them, he told her excitedly.

  “Mine’s really great, isn’t it, Mom?”

  She had laughed and hugged him. Rebecca intended to give this gift a prominent spot on her desk at school. It made her smile every time she saw it.

  Really, none of her doubts had to do with Malcolm. It was only sometimes, when he gave a belly laugh or flushed with pride at how well he was reading or said something peculiar and smart and funny, that she was painfully aware of how much Daniel was missing out on.

  She never let those moments last long. She believed with all her heart that she’d made the right choice for all of them. Even when things had been at their best between them, Daniel was emotionally remote. Imagining his expression if she’d announced that she was pregnant was enough to make Rebecca shudder. She felt fairly certain he would have seen her pregnancy as a ploy to seize hold of him, just when he was easing away.

  Someday Malcolm might really want to meet his father. It wasn’t as though she intended to carry the secret of his parentage to the grave. But she would not let him be pulled two ways as he was growing up, not the way she and her sister had been, with their parents at constant war.

  Much as she loved living and working in Half Moon Bay, the time might have come to move. It would be smart to avoid any other chance meetings. She could start sending out résumés now, and she and Mal could move this summer. They’d start afresh this coming fall when the school year began, when she wouldn’t be deserting a classroom of children who depended on her, when Malcolm would be leaving preschool behind to enter kindergarten anyway.

  She wouldn’t even have to go that far away, perhaps just down the coast to Monterey or farther south to Santa Barbara. Or somewhere around Tahoe. The winters would be cold, but Malcolm would enjoy learning to ski.

  Yes, Rebecca decided, turning out lights that night and pausing at her son’s bedroom door to see his tousled head on the pillow and his arm firmly clutching Mister, his beloved stuffed lion, a move might be smart.

  Even though Daniel had made no effort to track her down.

  “HAVE YOU GIVEN THAT DNA sample yet?” Joe asked.

  Cell phone to his ear, Daniel set down his wineglass and propped his stockinged feet on his coffee table. The phone had rung before he could start cooking dinner. “What’s the hurry? You know it’ll be weeks, maybe months before we get results.”

  “You’re not anxious?”

  “I’d like to know,” he admitted. “But it’s not going to change anything.”

  Actually, he had gone to the clinic, but didn’t want to admit he’d been so eager.

  Not eager, he told himself; he just believed that there was no point in putting off facing what had to be faced. Dealing with it, and moving on. Why procrastinate?

  “This means you have another brother.”

  He’d have liked one when he was younger, an
ally closer in age to him. Now, the idea of acknowledging another man as his brother felt too much like replacing Adam, who’d screwed up his own life later but had done his best when Daniel was young to make up for his father’s neglect. Sam Carson was no substitute.

  Daniel shrugged before realizing Joe wouldn’t be able to see him. “Do you remember Rebecca Ballard?” he asked abruptly.

  There was a moment’s silence as his nephew changed gears. “The one who looked like a dancer and worked for the Chamber? Sure. Why?”

  “I ran into her the other day. I was down in El Granada, had lunch at this place in Moss Beach. She happened to be there.”

  “Yeah?” Joe sounded cautious. “And?”

  Daniel realized he was on his feet for no reason. “No ‘and.’ She just caught me by surprise.”

  “There was something about her,” Joe said thoughtfully.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” He walked over to stare unseeing out the window.

  “Nothing. Just strikes me that I don’t remember a single woman you dated that long ago except her.” He paused. “You wouldn’t have mentioned seeing her if you weren’t bothered.”

  “No,” he said brusquely. “Just a blast from the past.”

  “Ah.”

  Joe let him change the subject, and they hung up shortly thereafter. Daniel carried his glass of wine into the kitchen and took some ravioli out of the freezer. He’d toss it with pesto sauce.

  As he sliced French bread and waited for the water to boil, he cursed himself for mentioning her at all to Joe. Why had he?

  Maybe the idea of getting back together with her appealed to him because she was familiar. All this family crap had him on edge. He kept thinking back to his childhood and seeing scenes as if they were double exposed. Who was the mother he’d taken for granted, as kids did? Clearly, she’d had an inner life he had never imagined. He’d always known she battled depression. Given Adam’s problems later in life, Daniel had suspected it might run in their family. Now he knew, or guessed, that grief rather than clinical depression had cast the shadow he’d felt like an aura. Grief for the child she gave up, grief for the man she must have loved for much of her life.