A Mother's Secret

by Janice Kay Johnson

  “Why won’t you forgive Noelle’s mother?” Amusement threaded Daniel’s husky voice. “And why a terrible idea?”

  “Because four- and five-year-olds can’t roller-skate. And because Jamie—Noelle’s mother—is counting on just about every parent staying at this wretched party. The rink is too crowded for her to keep an eye on the kids. Plus, the only way they can skate is to hang on to their parents for dear life. The last time I went to one of these, I had to hold two kids up, and eventually one of them tangled his feet with mine and I went down hard, on my tailbone. Which hurt for weeks.”

  “I see.” Now he was laughing at her, she just knew he was. “So how about if I come?”

  The offer made her feel as if she’d just gone down again, so hard she’d had the wind knocked out of her. Was this going to be the first time she waved as Daniel took Malcolm away? Somehow, she managed to sound no more than inquiring. “You mean, take him for me?”

  “Uh…I meant go with you.” There was an obvious pause, followed by a reluctant, “But I suppose there’s no reason I couldn’t, if you need some time to yourself.”

  She was miserably conscious of relief even as anger squeezed her. Why did he keep wanting to play family?

  No, wait—could it be that he was just nervous about taking Malcolm by himself? Was she just…well, a buffer for him on all these happy outings?

  Maybe.

  That thought was unaccountably depressing.

  “No,” she heard herself say, “I was planning to go. But you might as well find out what’s in store for you.”

  “Do fathers go? Or is it mostly mothers?”

  “On a weekend thing like this, it’s about half and half. You won’t be out of place.”

  “It wasn’t that,” he said stiffly. “I was just…curious.”

  “Even when I was a kid, a fair share of fathers—” Rebecca stopped. Oh. His father hadn’t taken him to other kids’ birthday parties. Maybe his single, working mother hadn’t been able to or willing to, either. Or to afford the seemingly endless gifts. Knowing he’d hate it if he thought she felt pity, she said only, “Malcolm will enjoy having you there.”

  “Thanks.” He was quiet for a minute. “I went to see my dad last night. I mean, Vern.”

  Made wary by the change of subject, she asked, “Did you tell him you suspect he’s not your real father?”

  “Yeah. We worked our way around to it. I asked him about Mom. He talked about how beautiful she was, and how lucky he’d felt that she even looked at him. Sounds like it took him a few years to figure out that she’d used him to give me a name. But he knew she wasn’t a happy woman. He thought he could change that.”

  “And he was wrong.”

  “Yeah.” Daniel sounded weary. “What she did to him was contemptible.”

  “Unless,” Rebecca said tentatively, “she really believed she could learn to love him.”

  “I don’t know what to think.” He fell silent again, for long enough that she wished she could see his face. “Or why I care.”

  Rebecca had to blink back tears. “Of course you care! For one thing, none of us wants to repeat our parents’ mistakes.”

  He made a rough sound that might have been a laugh. “No. I don’t want to do that.”

  “I still catch myself making excuses for my parents, even though I’ve never quit being mad at them, too. But I want them to have meant well. To have been acting out of love, however misguided. Because otherwise…otherwise…” Her throat closed.

  “You have to admit they didn’t give a damn,” Daniel said in a monotone.

  She swallowed. “I suppose.”

  “I’ve never tried to delude myself.”

  That was the saddest thing Rebecca had ever heard anyone say. What he meant was, he hadn’t been able to delude himself, considering how glaring his parents’ indifference and neglect had been.

  “Did you tell him that he’d hurt you?” she demanded.

  “Not in so many words.” Daniel paused. “He volunteered an apology. Vern is eighty-three now, has had heart trouble. I guess you start thinking. He said the way he abandoned me was one of his regrets.”

  Her ire deflated. “Oh. I suppose that was nice of him.”

  Daniel laughed, as if her grudging concession had lightened his mood. “I did think it was nice of him. I had the sense that…uh…maybe he’d value a closer relationship.”

  She could picture him shifting, hunching his shoulders in that way he had when discomfited. Daniel might be pleased to learn that Vern Kane did care, at least a little, but he’d also be thrown for a loop. He wasn’t accustomed to people caring. He might have no idea how to respond.

  How could she have been dumb enough to fall in love with a man who might well be incapable of any kind of reciprocity?

  “Will you go see him again? Now that you know—well, are reasonably sure—he isn’t your father?”

  After a moment he said, “I don’t know.” Then, “Maybe.”

  She vaguely recalled that Daniel had half sisters. Or had thought he had half sisters, although of course they weren’t related to him after all. Heather and…She couldn’t remember the other one’s name.

  “Does he need you?” she asked.

  “Need me? No. Jen’s in Chicago now, but Patty lives nearby.”

  Patty. That was it. She was the snotty older girl who had been painfully jealous when Daniel spent the occasional weekend with his father and his new family. The younger sister, Heather, had been more inclined to worship this big brother. Daniel had told Rebecca a few stories, when he had been especially relaxed. He hadn’t, so far as she could tell, maintained any relationship at all with these half sisters. By the time he was a teenager, visits to his father’s home had stopped altogether.

  She still remembered the way he had shrugged. “The visits mostly ended by the time I was…heck, nine or ten. Vern still called occasionally. He took me to a couple of ball games, showed up a few times for my games when I was in high school. And he did arrange for a summer job on one of his construction sites. But it was pretty clear I wasn’t part of his family.”

  His tone had been entirely impassive. She had ached for him nonetheless.

  “Basically, he wants your forgiveness,” she said now. “So he can forgive himself.”

  Daniel grunted, clearly amused. “Is that so bad?”

  It took her longer than it should have to concede. “Probably not.” She was shocked to find how much she wanted someone to suffer for Daniel’s sad childhood. Vern Kane was the only one left who could.

  “You don’t believe in forgiveness?” he inquired.

  Did she? Oh, she forgave friends for forgetting a luncheon engagement or her birthday, a fellow teacher for forgetting to pass on important information. But could she forgive either her mother or father, if they begged her on their deathbed?

  “Yes,” she said stiffly. “Of course I do.” Maybe.

  “Really forgiving someone, deep down…” He shrugged, his voice scratchy. “That might come hard.”

  Yes. It would. Saying you forgive someone might not be that hard. Giving them peace. But deep down, in your heart forgiving…Examining herself, Rebecca thought, I’ve been angry so long, I’m corroded. Maybe the best she would be able to do, if the time ever came, was to try.

  As if reading her mind, Daniel said, “What about me? Will you ever be able to forgive me for letting you down?”

  If he ever said the words, I love you, Rebecca was stunned to discover that she could forgive him almost anything. Her parents, no. Daniel, yes.

  Oh, God.

  Somehow, she crafted a tone of vague surprise. “Did you let me down? I thought we just…parted ways.”

  Immediately, his voice became guarded. “Is that what we did? Well, there’s no going back, is there?”

  But I want to, she thought with sharp longing. I want to say to you, “I’m pregnant,” and have you laugh with delight and swing me in a circle and beg me to marry you. And I want…I wan
t…

  Such small words, and ones she couldn’t imagine Daniel ever saying, not to her.

  Crisply, she agreed, “No. There isn’t.”

  “Sunday,” he said, once again no more than a pleasant near stranger. “Does this party include lunch?”

  “No, it’s from ten to twelve.”

  “Shall we go out for lunch afterward?”

  Of course he’d want at least that much time with Malcolm.

  “Sure.”

  Rebecca was filled with turmoil as she hung up and thought, I’m as desperately in love as ever.

  She couldn’t go on this way, pretending for Malcolm’s sake that it was great fun going on outings with her buddy Daniel. She had to tell Malcolm the truth.

  REBECCA WAITED UNTIL story time the next evening. She and Malcolm settled on the sofa, Mal having chosen several library books for her to read to him.

  She took the first book from him, but left it closed on her lap. “I want to talk to you first.”

  Already in his pajamas, he swiveled on his butt so he could look up at her. “I can still go to Noelle’s party, right? I bet I can really skate this time. ’Cept I don’t want you to let go of my hand until I’m sure.”

  Rebecca laughed. “Yes, you can still go to Noelle’s party, and no, I won’t let go of your hand until you’re sure. I promise.”

  He nodded. “Okay.”

  Such trust. Most of the time, she took it for granted, but occasionally, like tonight, she felt a clutch of awe and pleasure mixed with the fear that someday she’d let go too soon and fail him.

  “This is about Daniel.”

  “He can’t come?” Malcolm sounded disappointed. “I like it when he does stuff with us. I thought…it might be kinda like…Um. You know.”

  She knew. Kinda like having a dad.

  “No, Daniel is still planning to come, too. The thing is, there’s something about him I haven’t told you.” She took a deep breath. “Daniel is your father.”

  Her son stared at her, his brown eyes so like hers even as the face tilted up to her looked shockingly like Daniel’s. “He’s…my dad? I mean, really my dad?”

  “How can you be a dad but not really?”

  “You know. Like Kelsey’s dad. He’s a…a…”

  “Stepfather,” Rebecca supplied.

  “Yeah, except he acts like her dad.” Malcolm’s face crinkled. “I don’t know what happened to her other dad.”

  “I think he died.” A car accident, if she remembered right.

  Any hope that he would continue to be distracted by speculation about other kids’ fathers was erased when Malcolm frowned. “You said my dad didn’t ’specially want to have a family. Like us. Only, Daniel acts like he does. Right, Mom?”

  Heart aching, she said, “Yes. He does. People change, honey.” She closed her eyes. “Or maybe I was wrong then to think he wasn’t ready to be a dad.”

  “Oh.” Mal thought about it. “So he came to find us?”

  “No, you remember that day at the restaurant, when we were with Aunt Naomi? And you came outside when I was talking to Daniel? He called me later and said he wanted to spend time with you.”

  “Does that mean you’re gonna get married?” He grew more eager. “And he’ll be here all the time? And maybe he wants another kid, too, ’cuz I’d like a baby sister. Or maybe a baby brother, but I think I’d like a baby sister better.”

  She laughed even though she felt like crying, and enveloped him in a hug. “I know you want a baby brother or sister! You keep saying so! But you’re not going to get one anytime soon. And no, Daniel won’t be here all the time. We aren’t getting married. It’s you he wants to spend time with, not me. Mostly you’ll spend time with him without me. Eventually you’ll go to his house some weekends. Like Polly, who can’t come to Noelle’s party, because she’s going to her dad’s house this weekend.” Bad example, she realized immediately, seeing his expression. Hastily she added, “She’s probably going to be doing fun stuff with him instead.”

  “But what if she really, really wanted to go to Noelle’s party?”

  “Then I’m betting her dad would have switched weekends, so she could be home for the party. I know Daniel wouldn’t want you to miss anything important.”

  “Oh.” He hadn’t made any attempt to pull back from her embrace. Instead, he kept sneaking looks up at her. “Do I have to go spend the night at his house? Because I like it when you’re there.”

  She smiled at him, because she couldn’t possibly let him know how terribly she hurt. “I think it’ll be okay if we take this slowly. That’s what we’ve been doing. I thought it would be better if you already knew Daniel before you found out he’s your dad. You do like him, don’t you?”

  His head bobbed vigorously against her. “He’s real nice. He’s even got the same color hair as me, right, Mom?”

  “Yes.” She laid one cheek on his head, hoping to hide the hot tears that spilled over. “Your hair color is one of the things you got from him. And your freckles.”

  “And I like bulldozers, too. Like Daniel does.” He snuggled against her in silence for a moment. “Do you think he’s going to want me to call him Dad now?”

  “Yes.” She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stop the flow of tears, but failing. “Yes, I think he’d like that.”

  Malcolm pulled away abruptly to stare at her in astonishment. “How come you’re crying?”

  She laughed and wiped her cheeks. “I guess I’m happy and sad both. Because I think Daniel will be a great dad for you, but…I liked it when it was just you and me, too.”

  He looked worried now. “I won’t have to go with him lots, will I, Mom? ’Cuz I like being with you.”

  “No. You won’t go with him lots, and especially not when you don’t want to. Daniel doesn’t want you to be scared or sad.”

  “Okay.” She could tell he wasn’t entirely satisfied, but he said, “Can we read stories now, Mom?”

  “You bet. After I go blow my nose.”

  As she headed for the bathroom, he said, “Maybe I’ll call him Dad when he comes Sunday.”

  Oh, Lord, she thought. I’d better warn Daniel that I’ve told him.

  BY THE TIME HE PULLED into Rebecca’s driveway on Sunday, Daniel was as nervous as a pimply faced sixteen-year-old with a fresh driver’s license picking up a girl for a first date. He’d been stunned when she phoned yesterday to tell him that Malcolm now knew Daniel was his father.

  “Why now?” he’d asked hoarsely.

  “I just…thought the time had come.” She sounded evasive. “He was excited that you’re coming tomorrow, he likes you, he’s seen your house. He was ready.”

  More generosity. In the beginning, Daniel had agreed only reluctantly to this charade. That first day, when they went to the beach, he had realized she was right. Pretending he was just an old friend had taken pressure off both Malcolm and him. Truth be told, a couple of outings would probably have been enough; they were comfortable with each other by then.

  Reasonably comfortable, he amended, ruthlessly honest with himself.

  But he also hadn’t felt ready to be solely in charge. He’d never been alone with a preschooler. What if Malcolm cried? Or wanted something he couldn’t provide?

  And, damn it, he’d liked spending time with Rebecca, too.

  Did this mean the three of them wouldn’t do anything together in the future? he wondered, getting out of the car. Would they say no more than hello and goodbye when he picked Malcolm up and dropped him off?

  The other night, it was her he’d wanted to talk to. He’d thought she would understand some of what he had felt when Vern said he was sorry, and when he still called him son. He hated the idea of losing even this pretense of friendship.

  And although she’d insisted that Malcolm was happy that he would have a father now, Daniel was still nervous about facing him. What if she’d exaggerated and Malcolm was only grudgingly okay with the idea?

  God! His palms were clammy as he
formed a fist and knocked on the front door.

  He heard a flurry of footfalls inside and the door was flung open. Malcolm grinned at him. “Mom says you’re my dad!”

  “Uh…yes. I am.”

  “I’ve always wanted to have a dad,” the boy confided. “Can I tell everyone else you’re mine?”

  He was aware that Rebecca stood back, within earshot but letting them have this moment. He didn’t look away from the bright, happy face of his son.

  “You can tell anyone you want.”

  “And can I call you Dad?”

  His throat seemed to have swelled closed. He nodded, swallowed, and managed to say, in a voice that didn’t sound like his, “I’d like that.”

  “Okay, Dad,” Malcolm declared. “Do you know how to roller-skate?”

  Good God. Were his eyes getting misty?

  “I, uh, think that’s one of those things you don’t forget how to do.”

  Predictably, Malcolm asked, “What other things don’t you forget to do?”

  His mother laughed and came forward. “We’d better go or we’ll be late. Mal, where’s Noelle’s present?”

  The boy made a face. “I think it’s in my bedroom. It’s a dumb present anyway.”

  Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Her mom didn’t think she’d want a bulldozer.”

  Daniel choked back a laugh. Malcolm raced off to grab the girlie gift, whatever it was.

  “It’s a Bratz doll. She’s an ice-skater. There didn’t seem to be a roller-skating one.”

  “A brat?” he echoed.

  She kindly spelled out the name. “They’re popular with the girls right now. They’re sort of Barbie-like. Noelle likes both, her mother says, but once I dragged Mal away from the heavy equipment aisle at the toy store, he chose this one. He was quite decisive, mainly to avoid lingering. He probably didn’t want to be seen in the overwhelmingly pink aisle.”

  Daniel’s laugh was genuine, but oddly, it hurt, as if he’d had a bad cold and had a sore throat and chest. “He really is okay with this.” He indicated himself with an abortive gesture.