A Mother's Secret

by Janice Kay Johnson

  She sought to calm herself. He had a right to be angry. And honestly…giving Daniel visitation rights to their son wasn’t the end of the world. It might feel like it right this minute, but surely, surely, he would help her make this easy for Malcolm. He wouldn’t be like her own father, who was more interested in waging war with his ex-wife than he was in the welfare of his two daughters.

  She clasped her hands tightly together and said quietly, “Would you please sit down? So I don’t feel as if you’re trying to intimidate me?”

  For a long moment he didn’t move. But at last he gave a choppy nod and sat in an easy chair facing the sofa. Only an old wooden trunk she used as a coffee table separated them.

  “Thank you.”

  “Is this the beginning of another plea for me to stay the hell out of my son’s life?”

  “No. I’m going to ask if…if maybe you can get to know Malcolm before we tell him. He’d be so scared…” She stopped before her voice could break. He would think she was trying to manipulate him.

  Again those eyes narrowed for a flicker. “He didn’t look shy to me.”

  “He’s not. But he is only four and a half years old.”

  “When’s his birthday?”

  “June. June 6.” She drew a breath. “The longest he’s ever away from me is at preschool, and I often walk over to have lunch with him. He’s a little boy, Daniel. If you insisted on suddenly taking him for the weekend…”

  He scowled at her. “You’ve made your point. So what’s the alternative?”

  “Can I just introduce you as an old friend of mine? Maybe you could come to dinner some night, or we could all do something together like go to the beach. Once he knows you, it’ll be different.”

  It was the best she could do. There would still come that first time, when she stood in the driveway waving as Daniel took Malcolm away for the night, or the weekend, and her heart cracked. But she could bear it if Malcolm went happily, if she was the only one suffering. If Malcolm was crying, or had his face pressed to the glass as the car disappeared down the road, she was afraid she’d go running after it until she collapsed in tears and some neighbor had to lead her, shattered, home again.

  Not once had the furrows between Daniel’s dark brows smoothed. They gave his face a brooding cast as he seemed to weigh every word she spoke, examining each suspiciously.

  Which, she supposed, was fair. After all, she had kept her pregnancy from him, kept his son from him. He didn’t have any reason to trust her intentions now.

  But he did finally sigh and scrub a hand over his face. “You win. That seems reasonable. Why don’t I take you both out for pizza? Tomorrow? No.” He shook his head. “Saturday?”

  “I’m afraid I have plans.” Would he insist she cancel them?

  But all he did was give her a skeptical look. “Then Sunday night. Does he like pizza?”

  She managed a small, twisted smile. “He likes pizza.”

  “Six o’clock?”

  “Earlier, if you can make it. His bedtime is eight. We usually eat between five and five-thirty.”

  Another nod. She could see him calculating. “I can make it.” He stood. “Sunday, then.”

  Rebecca scrambled to her feet, too. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you?” His laugh held no humor. “Come on, we both know what you really want is to tell me to go to hell.”

  “That’s not true. This is my fault.” And it was—she’d been foolish enough to stay in the Bay Area. “I appreciate you thinking of Malcolm.”

  “Instead of thinking only about myself, which was what you anticipated?” His dry tone made it plain he believed she was snowing him.

  She pressed her lips together. “I was afraid you’d let your anger rule you.”

  “And, oh, how tempted I am.”

  The soft menace in his voice made her shiver.

  “Fortunately for my son, I can pretend to like you for his sake.” He raked her with one scathing look, then turned and walked out.

  Rebecca was left standing in her living room, flushed with humiliation and anger. And dread.

  “MOM SAYS YOU USED TO BE friends. Like me and Jenna.” While his mom set his booster seat in the back of Daniel’s car, Malcolm scrutinized Daniel. “So how come I never met you?”

  Could he succeed in convincing anyone, even a kid, that the two of them were friends? Daniel wondered. Three days later, he was still furious that she had intended to let his son grow up thinking his dad didn’t care, condemning the boy to the sense of inadequacy that had haunted Daniel for a lifetime.

  She had one hell of a lot of excuses, but what it came down to was she didn’t want to share.

  No, he wouldn’t be getting over this anger soon, but he had to hide it. Pretend, for Malcolm’s sake.

  “I didn’t know your mom still lived around here,” he said in an easy tone. “Not until that day I ran into you at the restaurant.”

  “You didn’t run into us. You just saw us,” the boy corrected him.

  “That’s a figure of speech,” Rebecca said. “Come on. Hop in.”

  He grinned at her and, keeping both feet together, hopped to the car. “Like a rabbit. Huh, Mom?”

  “That was another figure of speech.”

  Daniel couldn’t imagine that any four-year-old knew what a figure of speech was. Many adults probably didn’t. After all, what did a “figure” have to do with anything?

  Rebecca had to lift Malcolm into his car seat, since he persisted in trying to jump instead of climbing in.

  She closed the car door, obviously flustered. “I’m sorry. He’s in a phase.”

  “A literal one?”

  “Uh…you could say that.”

  He would have smiled if he hadn’t been so tense. It had occurred to him, in the past twenty-four hours, that becoming known and trustworthy to his son might require skills he didn’t possess. He saw kids squalling in the grocery store when their moms refused to buy the sugary cereal they wanted. Toddlers playing at the park where he ran. That was as close as he’d wanted to get. Outside of the sixteen-year-olds who worked the drive-through at fast-food joints, Kaitlin was the only child with whom he’d actually held a conversation. But Kaitlin was different. He’d been part of her life since she was born.

  Charming this particular four-year-old might be a challenge. What made the attempt even more uncomfortable was having to do it under the critical eye of the boy’s mother.

  Realizing that she’d been worrying in turn that he might critique Malcolm’s behavior and thus her parenting skills loosened that tension a little.

  They got in the car and he backed out of the driveway.

  “You didn’t put on your seat belt,” the boy piped up. “Don’t you wear your seat belt? Mom, how come that man didn’t put on his seat belt the way he’s supposed to?”

  Hastily, Daniel buckled it. “Sometimes I fasten it once I’ve started driving. But that’s a bad habit.”

  “Mom always checks to be sure everyone in the car has their seat belt on before she starts the car. Don’t you, Mom?”

  She smiled brightly over her shoulder, although he glimpsed the whites of her eyes. “I’m sure Daniel usually wears his, Malcolm. And this is his car, so he doesn’t have to follow my rules.”

  Daniel was beginning to enjoy himself. The pretense was her idea, and she was suffering way more than he was.

  “Do you make everyone wear their seat belts, too, Mr. Daniel?” the boy persisted. “Or do you have a different rule?”

  “You don’t have to call me mister,” he began. “Just Daniel is fine.”

  “But Mom makes me call grown-ups mister or missus. ’Cept for Aunt Nomi. She’s not really my aunt,” he confided. “But she’s kinda like my aunt.”

  The kid didn’t have a shy bone in his body, Daniel realized, as Malcolm continued to share his thoughts about Aunt Nomi and any number of other adults he knew. Daniel did manage to interject that his name was Daniel Kane, and that Malcolm could call him Mr.
Kane if he preferred. Malcolm thought Kane was a great name.

  “A really good name,” he said with unmistakable satisfaction.

  Rebecca winced.

  Daniel was uncharitable enough to savor her discomfiture. The boy’s name should have been Kane. Would have been Kane, if she hadn’t decided to cut Daniel out.

  “This place okay?” he asked, slowing by a pizza parlor he’d spotted the other day.

  “Yes.” She cleared her throat. “We like this place, don’t we, Mal?”

  “Yeah!” The boy bounced. “We like pizza!”

  Once he’d parked and they were walking in, she said, “I’m not really quite as much of a prig as he makes me sound. I just figure if I can influence him into thinking seat belts are important at this age, it might stick.”

  “You’re not a pig, Mom.” Her son, clutching her hand, looked up at her in astonishment. “Why’d you say you’re a pig?”

  Amused, Daniel listened as she valiantly attempted to explain the difference between pig and prig. Clearly, she’d failed, because she was still trying when Malcolm interrupted her and said, “We won’t get a pizza with mushrooms. Right?”

  “He doesn’t like mushrooms,” she murmured to Daniel.

  He felt an odd bump in his chest. Looking down at the boy, Daniel said, “He’s not the only one who doesn’t like mushrooms. There definitely won’t be any on our pizza.”

  “I’d forgotten,” Rebecca said in a funny voice. “You don’t like Brussels sprouts, either, do you? Or spinach. He doesn’t, either.”

  He smiled at Malcolm. “We must have the same tastes, buddy.”

  “Brussels sprouts are gross,” he was assured. “They stink!”

  “Yes, they do,” Daniel agreed.

  Rebecca rolled her eyes. “You’re a big help.”

  “Well, he’s right.”

  “Mom always says I’ll like stuff like that when I’m growed up. But I’m never going to eat food that stinks!” Malcolm chortled.

  They established that he would also prefer pizza without pepperoni, sausage, Canadian bacon, onion or green pepper. He kinda liked pineapple, though. Daniel suggested that they ask for one quarter of their pizza to be plain cheese with pineapple. Then he said, “Veggie with no mushroom?” to Rebecca, and she nodded, looked startled, then blushed.

  Daniel was surprised himself to realize how many of her preferences he remembered. Not just tastes in food, he thought, watching as she led the four-year-old to the bathroom. How much about her he remembered.

  Like her scent. The entire time he knew her, she’d used the same shampoo. An organic, not-tested-on-animals, hard-to-find one that smelled of apricots and green tea. Even now, four years later, a whiff of that distinctive scent would have stopped him dead in a crowd as he turned to look for her.

  The tiny, choked sound she made when she was trying to suppress a laugh. He remembered that, too. Yeah, and the throaty purr when she was enjoying his touch.

  And those flecks of gold in her eyes that seemed to brighten when she was mad or excited or aroused. He vividly remembered the moment when he’d thought, I could spend the rest of my life looking into her eyes.

  They hadn’t even been having sex. No, they’d been chatting over breakfast. She was laughing at him as she snatched the front page of the Chronicle out of his hand.

  Back then, the thought had no sooner slipped into his mind than he had ridiculed it. She had pretty eyes; so what? No glint of gold in chocolate depths was going to seduce him into making promises he wouldn’t want to keep. It wasn’t long thereafter that he’d started letting days pass between calling her.

  The rest of my life. For the first time, Daniel identified the tight sensation he’d felt in his chest at the idea.

  Panic. He’d been scared to death.

  He was still frowning when Rebecca and Malcolm emerged from the women’s restroom. She turned until she spotted him at the table he’d chosen. She bent her head to smile and say something to Malcolm, after which they both started his way.

  There it was again, the feeling that made him think of drowning.

  He swore under his breath. What ridiculous, romantic mush. This was the woman who’d had the full intention of raising his son to believe his father didn’t give a damn.

  Don’t forget that, he reminded himself as he slid out of the booth and asked what drinks they wanted. Don’t forget it for a second.

  DANIEL WAS DOING A LOT of pretending these days. At the moment, he was sipping a beer and theoretically watching the Golden State Warriors play the Portland Trail Blazers. He enjoyed taking in an occasional game; while in high school, he’d indulged in dreams of making the pros himself. Right now, the action on the court was no more than a blur of color to him—it might as well be hockey or, hell, curling.

  Joe lounged beside him, ostensibly having come over to Daniel’s to watch the game on Daniel’s large-screen plasma TV. There was a time when they’d done this more often. Only nine years apart in age, Daniel and Joe had grown up more like brothers than uncle and nephew.

  This afternoon, Joe had admitted when he called that Pip was abandoning him for the evening.

  “She and a couple of friends from her school are going out to dinner and shopping. She’s starting to have trouble getting her pants buttoned. I guess it’s time for maternity clothes.”

  Daniel had pictured slender Pip swelling until she had to waddle. Of course, on the tail of that image came one of Rebecca pregnant. Carrying his son. Pip was—what?—a month further along than Rebecca had been when she walked away from him.

  “Damn,” Daniel said in a tone idle by design. “You a father again. It keeps hitting me.”

  Joe still looked faintly incredulous. “Apparently I have a gift.”

  That was one way to put it. This was the second time he’d unintentionally gotten a woman pregnant. He’d married the first one, too, and done his damnedest to make the marriage work, even though Daniel suspected he’d never really loved Nadia.

  The divorce had, in Daniel’s opinion, been inevitable. Nadia had since met a great guy and remarried, although the last time Daniel saw her there had still been something wistful in her eyes when she looked at Joe.

  This marriage was different. In recent years Joe had become a grim man, as good at closing himself off as his uncle Daniel was. Falling in love had changed him.

  Halftime in the game had come, and Daniel muted the television with the remote. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

  Joe turned his head, his expression cautious. “So ask.”

  “Did Adam have insurance to cover the hospital or rehab?”

  There was a long silence. “No,” Joe finally said. “But I handled it.” The subject was obviously closed, as far as he was concerned.

  “By bankrupting yourself?”

  “No bankruptcy.”

  “But that’s why you sold your condo, isn’t it?”

  Joe’s struggle was brief but intense. He didn’t want to admit to having been desperate. “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you come to me?”

  “Because I knew you were stretched to the max. The only way you could have helped was to ditch the Cabrillo Heights plans.”

  Daniel set down his beer. “Would you have asked for help otherwise?”

  His nephew grimaced. “Hell, yeah. But I did manage.”

  “I want to know how much you put out.”

  Joe told him.

  “You okay in the short haul?”

  “Yeah. Business has turned around. Pip makes a decent salary.”

  Daniel nodded. “Give me an accounting. As soon as the houses at Cabrillo Heights start selling, I’ll write you a check for half.”

  Predictably, Joe argued. Adam was his father. His responsibility. Daniel stayed resolute.

  Joe finally slumped back in his chair and lifted his bottle of beer in a salute. “You win. And I have to admit, some bucks will be welcome. Pip and I are planning to buy a house.”

>   Remembering what Belle had said, Daniel smiled. “With two bathrooms.”

  Joe’s laugh rumbled out of him. “Definitely two bathrooms.”

  Halftime was over. Daniel reached for the remote control to restore the sound, but hesitated. This was as good a time as any to tell Joe about Malcolm. He suspected his nephew wasn’t any more invested in the outcome of this game than he was.

  “Uh…remember me mentioning Rebecca Ballard?”

  “Sure I do. Did you call her?”

  Damn it, maybe he shouldn’t have started this. Eventually he’d have to tell everyone that he had a son. But he still hadn’t figured out how to handle it. As furious as he was at Rebecca, she was Malcolm’s mother. He didn’t like the idea of his friends and Joe despising her. She might have reason to meet some of them when they were exchanging Malcolm. And he sure as hell didn’t want the boy overhearing some snide remark about his mother.

  But, since Adam’s death, Joe and Daniel had become increasingly close. And he wanted to tell somebody. A man who usually kept a tight rein on emotions, he felt as if he’d been in free fall lately. God knows, if there was anybody who’d understand, it was Joe.

  Not letting himself have second thoughts, Daniel said, “When we parted ways, Rebecca was pregnant.”

  “What the hell…?” Joe digested that. “You didn’t know?”

  “No. She’d, uh, gotten the vibe that I wasn’t interested in marriage or family.”

  Joe grunted, as if that was a given. “You’d have paid child support.”

  “She didn’t want my money. Or to give me any rights.”

  “Did she claim the kid was yours when you ran into her? Are you sure she isn’t scamming you?”

  “I’m sure. She had Malcolm with her. She was trying to hustle me out of the restaurant so I didn’t see him, but he came looking for her.” Daniel paused. “She was with a friend, and I thought he was the friend’s kid. But, damn it, I couldn’t get him out of my mind. He looks like me, Joe. I could show you his picture, and you’d think it was me at that age.”

  “How old is he?”

  “Four and a half. He’s a smart kid. Likes to talk.”

  “When do I meet him?” Joe asked promptly.