Would they get worse if Robin left? Possibly, Flint thought, but how could he let her stay? The longer Robin remained, the worse it would be for the children when she departed.
He ached for their loss, and his. What a miraculous chance to begin again, to love again, to open his heart to Robin, with her mischievous eyes so much like Brick's. Oh, Lord, he'd never made the connection before. Of course her eyes looked like Brick's. She was his biological mother.
Flint remembered sitting with Kathy at the kitchen table, discussing the possibility of an embryo transfer. They'd mulled so many issues. How could they be sure the children would resemble them enough that no one asked awkward questions? Should they tell their relatives?
Kathy had insisted on secrecy and on choosing a donor with her coloring and blood type. The only thing they hadn't considered, because they'd never thought it would matter, was that the woman lived in the same town and someday they might actually meet her.
They should have gone to a clinic in Los Angeles, Flint thought. But that would have meant not having Caitlin and Brick and Aaron. He couldn't imagine any other children. He owed their very existence to Robin.
Yet she’d deceived him all these weeks.
Trying to keep his anger in check, he thought of their lovemaking last night. He hadn't experienced anything like it since the early days with Kathy, before the financial pressures and time shortages and infertility problems. He'd never expected to discover such wild joy again.
If he allowed himself to be purely selfish, then he would take as much as Robin could give, and damn the future. Damn the pain it would cause when their arguments overwhelmed their attachment and the children once again lost a mother.
But already they’d begun squabbling, unlike him and Kathy. His wife had been a gentle soul, supportive and devoted. Yes, she’d had a core of steel, the strength to stand up to life and become a wonderful mother no matter how difficult the pregnancy. But while she and Flint had occasionally disagreed, they’d always been able to talk things through.
After changing into his bathrobe for appearances’ sake, he went down to the family room and turned on the light. He sought reassurance in Kathy's photo, but it lay in shadow. Annoyed, Flint angled the lamp shade, trying to cast more light on the picture. It remained obscure.
H was losing his sharp awareness of the woman he loved. He couldn't allow that to happen.
He must send Robin away before the children learned the truth. He owed that to Kathy. She'd sought to keep the triplets' parentage secret, and secret it must remain.
*
In Robin’s dream, she wandered through the community center searching for the children. She could hear them whispering, but every time she opened a door, she found only another empty corridor.
At the rumble of a car starting, she ran out to the parking lot, but Gigi and the other protesters blocked her way. "Embarrass Harris!" they cried, and, "The next quake won't be our fault."
She woke up, startled by the quiet around her. The voices had reverberated so loudly, she could have sworn they were real.
Robin knew at once that Flint wasn't in the room. From the sunlight slanting through the window, she realized she'd overslept.
Then she realized that despite the lateness of the hour—seven-thirty by the bedside clock—she didn't hear any voices. The kids never slept past six.
Robin emerged from the bedroom into a silent house. Despite the welcoming sweep of sunlight, it had a curiously empty feel.
"Where is everybody?" She could have sworn her voice echoed.
The absence of the Harris clan gave Robin an uneasy feeling. It certainly wasn't the kind of greeting she had hoped for after her tryst with Flint.
He'd snapped back to form as soon as his passion was spent, as unyielding as ever. Although her revelation about the children must have hit him hard, she'd hoped he would mellow after a night's sleep. In the cool stillness of the house, her hopes waned.
Returning to her room, she saw an envelope with her name on it, lying on the carpet. Flint must have slipped it under the door, and she’d missed it earlier.
She read it with disbelief.
Robin, I'm taking the children out to breakfast to give you time to pack and make a getaway. I'm sure you'll agree that the best thing is for you to leave at once. Please don't contact me again. I’ll put your paycheck in the mail.
Don't worry about the children. Maureen will be back in two days and I can manage until then.
I apologize for my lack of chivalry, but I believe I've treated you as fairly as you've treated me.
Flint
Robin got a cold, heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach. How would the children react when they returned and found she'd gone? She could picture the hurt disbelief on their little faces as they listened to Flint manufacturing some excuse.
She couldn't stand it. And she didn't intend to.
Robin pressed her lips together angrily. If Flint insisted on firing her, then she had to leave. But she didn't have to go without saying goodbye to the children. He wasn't going to like it when she showed up, but maybe he’d refrain from making a scene in public.
Where might he have taken them? Robin doubted the pizza place or the Chinese restaurant opened this early. That left a nearby fast-food restaurant specializing in pancakes.
As she filled her suitcase and toted it to her car, she tried to figure out an excuse for the kids. A job offer? But why leave so suddenly? She supposed she'd have to accept whatever Flint had dreamed up.
Robin tried not to think about the closeness they'd shared last night. She'd never cared this much about a man before. Was she out of her mind? He still loved his late wife. And clearly, he didn’t love Robin.
Or if he did, he refused to admit it to himself.
Gritting her teeth, she drove to the restaurant. At this hour, it was nearly empty. She saw at once that Flint and the children weren't there. Robin was on the verge of leaving when she scanned the parking lot and caught sight of the familiar Volvo.
She turned back and made her way through the restaurant to the outdoor playground. As soon as she pushed open the door, she saw Flint sitting at a table, reading the newspaper. The children must have disappeared into the mazelike tangle of tubes and slides. Otherwise, the area was deserted.
Robin took a deep breath and went to join him.
Flint's brow furrowed as he glanced up. She could see him preparing to chew her out.
"Hold on." Robin slid into a chair. "I just want to tell the kids goodbye. Otherwise they're going to think women vanish into thin air. They'll never trust anyone again."
"Maybe they shouldn't," Flint muttered.
She tamped down to the urge to tell him to get a grip. "Let's get our stories straight. Why am I supposed to be leaving? Have you already told them?"
He shook his head. "I forged a note. We're supposed to find it when we get home. You got a job offer out of town. You have to catch a flight immediately."
"What happens if they run into me at the beach?"
He snapped his paper shut. "All right. I’m not very creative when it comes to fiction. What would you suggest?"
"My brain doesn't function this early in the morning," she said.
"You should have considered that before you barged in here."
"You should have considered that before you invented such a ridiculous excuse."
They glared at each other. At that moment, Aaron barreled toward them from the slides. "Robin! Robin! Hey, guys, Robin's here!"
The other two triplets materialized in a flash and raced to hug her. "We were afraid something was wrong," Caitlin admitted, and Robin saw tears sparkling in her eyes.
"You kids were upset?" Flint asked in surprise. "You didn't say anything."
"She never sleeps this late," explained Caitlin.
"We figured she might be sick," Aaron added.
"Or hung over," Brick said.
"What?" Robin stared at him in astonishment. "Where did you lea
rn about that sort of thing?"
"A kid at school told me," Brick admitted. "It means you have a headache, doesn't it?"
Caitlin snorted, but didn't correct him. "We're glad you're here."
"Actually. .." Robin took a deep breath. "Kids, I hate to tell you this, but I have to leave."
"Just for today?" asked Aaron.
"No. I, uh, well, I’ve been offered a job." She hated lying to them.
"School doesn't start for six weeks," Caitlin challenged.
"I have to have some minor surgery first," Robin improvised, and immediately wished she hadn’t said that. Surgery? Seriously?
"There's nothing wrong with you, is there?" Aaron asked worriedly.
"Nothing serious."
"It's Dad." Caitlin glared at their father. “He’s sending you away and he ordered you to lie about it. Shame on you, Flint."
Robin bit her lip. Flint would never forgive her if she laughed, but Caitlin was perceptive. Darn it, Robin loved this little girl, and these two boys, who at the moment wore identical expressions of confusion.
"This is a matter for grown-ups," Flint growled. "Believe me, Caitlin, I have good reason."
"You can't send her away," Aaron cried. "She's our mother!"
"I know you miss your mom, but you can't put Robin in her place," Flint said.
"Doesn't he know?" Caitlin asked Robin.
"Know what?"
"That you're the egg donor," the little girl said.
The distress on Flint's face mirrored Robin's own. "You told them?" he demanded.
"Of course not!" She turned to Caitlin. "How did you find out?"
"We knew all along," the girl said. "Why do you think we worked so hard to get Flint to hire you as our nanny?"
Chapter Twelve
Robin knew her mouth had fallen open, but she couldn't seem to force it shut as Caitlin calmly explained about the letter from the clinic and her research in the computer.
"We figured if Flint met you at school, he'd fall in love," the little girl announced as they all crowded around the table. "Then when he messed that up, Aaron had a stroke of genius, about hiring you for our nanny."
Aaron grinned. "Yeah. Genius."
"Dumb luck," grumbled Brick.
"Don't call me dumb!"
"Would you guys shut up?" demanded Caitlin. "We're talking about our mother."
Flint raised his hand for quiet. "Let's get one thing straight. Kathy was your mother."
Seeing Caitlin's face start to set in stubborn lines, Robin said, "Yes, she was. If not for her, you wouldn't be here."
"Can't somebody have two mothers?" Brick asked. “Some of my friends have stepmothers.”
"Adopted kids can have two mothers," added Aaron.
"Why can't we?" Caitlin pressed.
“Because a person who donates eggs is a kind, wonderful, genetic relative but she signed away her right to be your mother,” Flint answered.
Robin and Flint exchanged glances. She had to admit he was right, so she nodded.
Under the table, his hand closed over hers and squeezed gently. She took that as a thank you.
"I'm already behind in my work for today," he said, removing his hand. "Robin, as long as you’re here, I'd like you to stay on for the rest of the day, until we can work out a sensible solution. If that’s all right."
He must be an incurable optimist if he thought this situation could be resolved in one day, Robin reflected, but she refrained from mentioning it. "I'd be happy to."
He gave her a brief smile, kissed the kids and, after a wistful glance that melted her bones, strode out the exit
"Wow," said Caitlin. "He gave in."
"Not exactly," Robin warned.
"Well," the little girl said, "it's a start."
Aaron examined his Power Rangers watch. "It's time for projects."
Even though Robin’s instincts cried out to let the children enjoy the playground a while longer, she respected Flint's schedule. "Let's go home.”
"The Andrews kids are visiting their grandparents today," Brick noted. "Could we play with them instead of riding bikes?"
"If you do enough running around to count as exercise."
“We will!” they chorused.
Robin shepherded the kids to her car, listening with half an ear to their eager chatter. They seemed almost to have forgotten the exchange of a few minutes ago.
From their point of view, they'd won the battle. But she had a nagging sense that the war was barely beginning.
*
Flint had reached the office before he realized he'd left his briefcase at home. He'd intended to pick it up when he took the children back, and then to work out of the kitchen today while supervising them.
Before he could swing home to pick it up, a series of phone calls pinned him to the office. One client had a list of questions about his recommendations; another insisted he make a proposal immediately on an industrial park.
It was almost noon before he took a break. Advising his assistant that he would return promptly, he hurried out the door.
Damn his forgetfulness about the briefcase. Yet no wonder his thoughts were scattered, the way business ran hot and cold, leaving him twiddling his thumbs one month and overwhelmed the next. Combined with the complications in his private life, it was enough to fry anyone’s brain.
Only they weren’t mere complications. Last night he and Robin had shared something precious. If only he didn’t feel disloyal to Kathy. And uneasy about starting to fall for a woman so utterly different from him. Just because they’d had children together didn’t make them a family.
Still, he was glad she’d intruded at the restaurant this morning. Who would have guessed the children already knew the truth?
He'd always been proud of Caitlin, but lately her intelligence had proved more a liability than an asset. It amazed Flint how quickly the children had transformed from helpless toddlers into independent children. They needed a firm hand and a lot of structure. How was he going to manage that by himself?
If only he could count on Robin. Yet her free spirit was part of what drew him to her.
Stop day-dreaming. Stay focused.
Flint switched on the car radio, which was tuned to an all-talk station. He listened critically to a public service spot about earthquake preparedness. The information was valid—keep plenty of food and water on hand, maintain a first-aid kit and a radio with batteries—but hardly enlightening.
Then the talk-show host returned. "We're chatting today about boarding schools. With us in the studio is Dr. Samuel Jameson, principal of Heights Boarding Academy. Tell me, Dr. Jameson, what kind of parent would send a young child away to school?"
"A parent who wants the best for his child." The principal had a confident, friendly tone. "A parent who's tired of seeing the moral breakdown of our society, who wants his child to be able to concentrate, not only on his or her studies but also on enrichment activities."
As the voice droned on, Flint felt a quiver of guilt. After all, he'd been worrying about what would happen as the triplets grew into adolescence. With a boarding school, he'd never have to worry about supervision.
But he’d miss them. How could he come home every night to an empty house? The idea of being away from his kids twisted his gut.
Stop being so selfish.
After Flint’s father died when he was eleven, his mother had returned to work as a nurse. She’d put in long hours to earn enough to cover their bills. At first, he’d felt as if his world was falling apart, but he’d found strength in order and routine, focusing on his studies and taking on much of the housework.
For a while, after he married, he’d relaxed his strict standards, but then he lost Kathy. Again, he’d pulled himself together through hard work and discipline. If he overindulged his kids, how would they cope if something like that happened to them?
According to the principal, the school—located an hour's drive north of Beachside—offered horseback riding, tennis, swimmin
g and soccer, along with Wifi, computer programming classes and instruction in the arts. The kids would fuss, but he hardly saw them during the week anyway. Once they adjusted, they’d enjoy it, and he could spend extra time with them on weekends to compensate.
Also, he’d allow Robin to visit them occasionally. A little nurturing might not be a bad thing.
For which of us, them or me?
Never mind that. Flint decided to check the website for further information.
As he pulled into the driveway, he glimpsed Brick dashing through the Andrews' front yard with his siblings and the Andrews' grandchildren in pursuit. The group raced around the side of the house and disappeared into the back. Good—that meant he could fetch his briefcase and disappear unnoticed.
Flint found it on a kitchen chair and was about to leave when he heard a noise from Robin's room. She must have come into the house for some reason. He didn't see any point in letting her know he was home, but then he heard the noise again, more clearly. It sounded like a moan of pain.
"Are you okay?" He hoped she wasn't crying because of the way he’d treated her this morning.
"Not really," said her strained voice.
Flint set down the briefcase. In Robin's room, he found her standing with one foot elevated on a step stool, examining her bare thigh beneath a reading light. She had removed her jeans and wore nothing but a T-shirt and panties.
"Sorry." Flint started to back out. "I didn't realize you were..." He cleared his throat.
"Oh, for Pete's sake!" Her blue eyes sparked at him. "You saw a lot more than this last night!" Before he could answer, she continued, "I was trying to get the kids' ball out of the rock garden and I fell on a cactus. One of those low-growing kind that don't look like much, but—ow!"
She held tweezers in one hand and was pulling something out of her skin. Tears glimmered in her eyes. "I don't like to ask for help, but I can't reach them all."
Thinking about her pain made his thigh ache in sympathy. "I'll be right there." Flint went to wash his hands, then returned. "Just relax. I'll get them out."
He knelt and touched her knee to steady himself. She trembled but didn't protest as he pressed the tweezers against her skin and plucked out an all-but-invisible sticker.
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