His son!
Here he was trying to figure out what to do with the rest of his life, trying to get used to being called Alex again after he’d been Block or Sarge for so long, and now he had another title to get used to. Father.
If Macy would only let him be one.
And he knew he’d overreacted last night, but at the time the news had been so fresh, so stunning, that he’d reacted with his gut and not his brain. He’d acted like some arrogant, rich jerk with his threat to take Macy’s son away from her.
He wanted Macy, too, in spite of her five-year deception. Maybe he had always wanted Macy, but he’d never been able to figure out how to include her in the life he’d chosen. Now, maybe they could finally come up with a way to make it work.
He wanted to get to know Cory, yes. Finding out that he had a son had been an added bonus to rediscovering his feelings for Macy. My God! Macy was a mother. To his son! He was a father!
Now he just had to figure out how to reconcile his desire for the mother with his anger at her for hiding the son.
Settling all this was going to take time. Time he had already lost in not knowing. More time than he wanted to take. They were going to have to put aside their anger and hurt and work together, but how? Right now it seemed next to impossible.
He let out a long, deep breath. “Macy, you’d best get inside and turn on the lights, then I’ll carry our little man up and you can show me where to put him to bed.” Of course, he knew where Cory’s room was after last night, but letting Macy have the lead in something seemed the right thing to do.
Macy looked as though she wanted to argue with him, but she snapped her mouth shut and opened her door. She fumbled in her handbag and then produced her keys. “I won’t be a minute,” she said stiffly as if it galled her to have him do anything as simple as carry her child—their child—inside to his room.
“I’ll be right behind you.” Alex stretched from the long ride in the car, then bent to pick up his sleeping child.
Cory murmured, “I don’t wanna go to bed,” and Block froze, allowing Cory to settle before he tried to move again.
Block did his best to make the boy comfortable in his arms, and was startled to feel Cory’s heart beating so strong and steady against his chest. He paused for a moment, marveling at the idea that he’d been a part of creating this miraculous little being. When Cory seemed to have drifted back into sound sleep, Block carried him toward the house.
Funny, for such a sturdy-looking kid, Cory was surprisingly light. The thought gave him pause. What was a big hulking man like him doing considering taking over the care of such a tiny little person?
He looked up to where Macy had unlocked the front door and switched on the porch lights. She held the door open for him, then went ahead, flipping on lights as she went.
She hurried into the room he knew to be Cory’s and held the door open to allow the light from the hallway to spill across Cory’s bed. “I don’t want to wake him by turning on the light,” she murmured softly. Block nodded and entered as she pulled down the covers of his bed.
He laid Cory gently onto the sheets, then held his breath as the child muttered something and shifted around as if trying to find just the right spot. Macy bent over him, and carefully removed his shoes, one at a time. When Cory didn’t stir, Block began to breathe easy. Maybe he was down for the count.
Block started to back away, but he stopped to watch Macy as she said good-night to their son. He wished he’d been part of this scene from day one, but what was done was done. He swallowed a lump in his throat and watched through burning eyes.
Macy sat on the edge of the little bed. She lightly brushed Cory’s forehead and straightened his covers. Then she bent and kissed him on the top of his head.
Block wanted so much to touch his son as Macy had, to kiss him good-night, but drew his hand back and held it stiffly at his side. Though he wanted so much to hold Cory against his heart again, to touch his smooth cheek, he wasn’t sure he was ready yet. He might have the right as the child’s father, but at this point, what did he know about children? What did Cory know about him?
Would it damage this tiny child to know the truth about his birth? Cory was so young. What business did Block have being around something so small and fragile?
“He seems so little, sleeping there in that bed,” Block whispered, his voice thick with awe and emotion.
Macy looked up at him, her eyes bright in the dim glow of the night-light and the meager shaft of light spilling across the bed from the hallway. She smiled and pushed herself up from the bed. She stood there in the doorway, looking down, and Block instinctively put his arm around her and drew her close. They stood together, a quiet truce between them, until Macy seemed certain that Cory wouldn’t awaken. Then she motioned for Block to follow her out to the living room.
Once in the hall, she looked up at him. “If you think he’s small now, you should have seen him when he was first born.” She quickly turned away, and Block could just see a tinge of dusky rose as a blush crept up her neck to her cheeks. She must have realized that he might have seen his son then…if she’d only told him.
He should have been angry, and it appeared that Macy expected him to be, but the only emotion Block felt at that particular moment was regret. Regret that he hadn’t known about his son all along. Regret that he hadn’t been there for his birth. And, most of all, regret that Macy hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him about this most precious treasure.
Maybe he was going about this all the wrong way, he thought suddenly. Maybe suing for custody wasn’t the right thing. He’d have to think about it, but for now, he didn’t want the day to end. He didn’t want to have to go home and think and wonder about all that he’d missed.
“Do you have pictures of him from when he was small?” he asked quietly, hardly daring to hope she’d let him see them.
Macy turned back to him, her eyes wide with surprise. Apparently, it was the last thing she’d expected him to say. Hell, it was the last thing he’d expected to hear come out of his own mouth, too, Alex realized.
“Yes, I do have pictures.” She smiled broadly, not quite a grin, but enough to light up her lovely hazel eyes and mask the look of weariness that Alex had seen too much of in the last few days. “I’m just like any other proud mother. I have albums of them.”
“I’d like to see them.” Would it be too much to hope that Macy would let him look at them now?
Macy started to turn as if she were going to go get the pictures, then she stopped, poised on the balls of her feet as if she couldn’t make up her mind. She stood that way, like a bird ready to lift into flight at the first hint of danger, and then she must have made up her mind. “I have albums and albums full of pictures,” she said. “So many, you’d probably be bored.”
Block shook his head. “No, I won’t be bored,” he said huskily. Then he paused. “But I don’t want to keep you up. You did say that you were tired.”
Another look of indecision fleeted across Macy’s face, and then she smiled. “I think we have time to look through book one.”
“Book one? How many do you have?” Block followed Macy with his eyes as she hurried to a bookshelf in the hallway and selected a fat, white padded album marked Baby’s First Year.
Macy laughed, the sound wonderful to Block’s ears after all the stilted conversation and tension of earlier. “Well, I have one for each year.” She turned around, the book in her hand, and gestured for him to follow her to the couch. “We’ve just started on Book Five.”
She settled on the couch and patted the cushion beside her. “Come on. You can’t deny me the privilege of bragging about the most beautiful, smartest, most talented baby in the world.” She took a seat on the sofa and patted the cushion next to her.
Block accepted the invitation and wished he’d gotten this opportunity sooner.
She sat with the book open in her lap and started with page one. Now Block could easily see why this book seemed so ov
erstuffed. Not only did it contain pictures, but also mementos of the first year.
On the first page was an instant-camera snapshot of a tiny thing wrapped in a pale blue blanket. Macy ran her hand lightly over it as if she were remembering that day in full detail. “This was about five minutes after he was born,” she said softly.
Block leaned over to see the picture better and breathed in the scent of Macy’s perfume. He wanted to bury his face in her beautiful hair, he wanted to bury himself in her, but that was not the reason he was here. And he still couldn’t understand why he had such strong feelings for Macy when he should be as mad as hell at her. He forced his attention away from the mother and to the photograph of his newborn son.
All Block could do was look in awe. He reached to touch the picture, but drew his hand back. The picture seemed so small compared to his hand. He brushed against a strip of plastic that had been tucked into the book. “What’s this?” he asked, struggling to swallow a lump in his throat.
“That’s Cory’s identification bracelet from the hospital.”
Block picked it up and turned it over in his hand and read the label. Baby Boy Jackson. He shut his hand over it and closed his eyes. The bracelet should have read Baby Boy Blocker. But it was too late now.
Way too late. He opened his hand and let the piece of plastic fall back into the book. “I have to go,” he said, his voice thick.
“But I’d like a rain check,” he amended. “I’m just too beat to do this now.” He knew he was lying, but Block pushed himself up from the couch and had to fight to keep from running out of the house.
Macy followed him, and as he fumbled with the latch on the screen door, she placed her hand on his arm.
His breath caught and he looked back at Macy. She was looking at him, her eyes large with questions. “Don’t go,” she said softly.
“I have to,” he said. “It’s too much all at once.” He started to say something more, to explain, but he wasn’t sure why he was running away. Just as he wasn’t sure how to react.
Wasn’t sure he was ready.
She surprised him. Macy reached up and wound her arms around his neck. Then, standing on tiptoe, she kissed him, an affectionate kiss on the cheek, but it was enough.
Block raised his hand and touched the spot, and Macy smiled. “It’s all right,” she said. “This is all new to you. It will take a while to let it all sink in.” Then she stepped back and let him go.
At that very moment, the only thing Block could think of was sweeping her into his arms and carrying her off into her bedroom, but he knew the time wasn’t right. And he damned sure didn’t know how the hell he felt about her. One minute he was so angry at her and the next he wanted to kiss her senseless.
What a hell of a note.
He turned and stumbled out the door and down the steps into the night.
MACY WATCHED Alex stumble out of her home and wondered what had made him leave. She’d thought he wanted to see what he’d missed out of Cory’s life, but the minute she’d agreed to show him, he’d gotten up and left as though he couldn’t bear the sight of her child.
Their child, she had to keep reminding herself.
After the pleasant day they’d had together, almost as a family, Macy had begun to hope that maybe they would be able to work together for Cory’s good. Perhaps they would be able to discuss this calmly, rationally. After all, they’d made love last night. Now, more than ever, she felt as though she had a stake in Alex’s future.
She had even dared to hope in a brief moment of what was apparently insanity that they might be able to come together as a real family. The sex was certainly good enough, but they still had to have a meeting of their minds. Unfortunately, she had to get Alex to see past his anger and listen to reason.
Now she wondered if she’d ever understand what made Alex Blocker tick, much less be able to trust him with her child. Their child, she had to remind herself.
Macy remained on the couch and flipped through the pages of Cory’s baby book. It had been a long time since she’d thought to look at it. It had been long enough that she’d almost forgotten the pain of giving birth to her son alone and in secret from her family and friends. Now all that joy and confusion returned to her as though it had only happened yesterday.
She closed the book and set it aside on the couch. For so long, she’d soldiered on, bravely facing the world alone. Now that she thought that there might be a chance that she could share her son with his father, he’d seemed unable to handle it.
What was it about her that made men leave her alone? Macy blinked back tears as she thought back on her life. First her father had left her. He’d promised to come back, but he hadn’t. C.J. and Alex had gone off to their separate branches of the service. They’d both, in their own different ways, indicated that they’d be there for her, but they hadn’t been. Then C.J. had died in the helicopter crash, and Alex had used her and left her alone.
What was wrong with her?
Would Cory grow up and leave her, too?
Or would Alex just take him away?
The tears that she’d struggled so hard to hold back scalded her eyes, and she let them fall. Trying valiantly to hold back her sobs to keep from waking her son, she stumbled into the bathroom and turned on the shower. As she stepped out of her Sunday clothes and under the hot, stinging spray, she reminded herself of a pledge she’d made long ago.
If there was one thing she’d learned in her life, it was that she was a strong woman. She might have her weak moments, but she’d never let anyone see her cry.
And there in the shower she could weep until her eyes were red and raw, but no one would hear.
BLOCK HAD SLEPT late and had barely gotten up in time to catch Macy before she went to work.
He sat on the couch, idly watching one of the morning news shows, just waiting for Macy and their son to arrive.
She knocked on the door, then stepped inside without waiting to be let in, as was the habit of everyone in their neighborhood where no one was a stranger.
“Good morning, Macy,” Block said.
She looked startled, but she nodded a greeting. “Is your grandmother up? My air conditioner isn’t working right and I want to ask her to watch out for the repairman. I left a note on the door for him to come over here to get the key.”
“She’s in the kitchen. What’s wrong with the air?” No wonder it had been so steamy in her house the last two nights. And he’d thought it was because of him. Block pushed himself up from the couch and handed the remote over to Cory who promptly sat down and switched the channel to morning cartoons.
“It won’t turn on. I’m afraid the power surge after the storm might have damaged it,” Macy said, looking into the kitchen for Willadean and pointedly avoiding Block’s eyes. “I know all about the inner workings of people, but I know nothing about anything technical.” She called to Willadean and made her request.
Willadean came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. “Don’t you worry. I’ll make sure that repairman gets in, and you’ll be cool as a cucumber come afternoon when you get home.”
“Thank you, Willadean. You’re a lifesaver,” Macy said, hugging her.
Macy turned quickly and unexpectedly collided with Block. “Oh, you startled me,” she said as Block caught her in his arms. He held her, relishing the feel of her body against his, the almost electrical charge he felt when they touched, for a long moment until she looked up at him. Their gazes met, then Macy quickly turned away. “I—I’ve got to get to the clinic,” she murmured, then pulled away and scurried out the door.
But Block had seen her long enough to notice the puffy, swollen eyes. He’d made Macy cry, and he didn’t know why.
He watched from a coward’s vantage point through a small opening in the living-room-window curtains as she all but ran to her car. He quickly thought back over the events of yesterday and tried to figure out what was wrong. Hell, he’d thought that they’d come to some sort of peace last nig
ht before he’d become so overwhelmed with emotions that he’d had to leave before he embarrassed himself in front of the mother of his child.
The last thing in the world any self-respecting combat controller would do, much less a special ops controller, was to let anyone catch him in a moment of weakness. Part of the mystique of the unit was their ability to maintain that ever-present impression of strength and control. He wasn’t about to let Macy, who’d given birth to Cory and raised him alone with such grace and dignity, know that he’d been so overwhelmed by seeing a photograph of his child on the day he was born that it had driven him to tears.
Now he wondered if that had been a mistake. Had he given Macy the impression that he didn’t care?
Man, oh man, oh man. He was more damned confused than ever. In the air force, they’d had rules and regulations for everything. They’d trained for worst-case scenarios, but they’d never prepared him for this.
Once Macy’s car had driven out of sight, Block let the curtains fall back into place and turned back to the living room. He had so much to think about. Hell, he’d thought he had the world and his place in it all figured out. Now he knew how little he really understood.
What the hell was he going to do about Macy and his son?
“Unca Alex, will you play ball with me?”
Block looked down at his son, football in hand, endearing, hopeful smile on his chocolate-brown face. Block forced himself to smile. He could start with Cory. His son.
How he wanted to tell Cory not to call him Uncle Alex; he wanted so much to be called Dad or Daddy or Pop or whatever. But he knew it wasn’t up to him to tell Cory that he was his father. That was Macy’s call. And now, considering her silent treatment this morning, he wasn’t sure when or if she was going to do that.
“Sure, son, I’ll play with you.” Son. The word was so simple. To Cory it meant nothing, but it meant the world to Block. And for now, it would have to do.
“Oh-kaaay!” Cory cheered. He trotted to the back door, and Block followed, grateful that he had this opportunity to get to know his son.
The Sergeant's Secret Son Page 13
