by Erika Kelly
“I always was.”
“Do I need to turn the hose on you two?” Marcella stood in the doorway. She shook her head. “You got a house full of people who want to wish you a happy birthday, Fin Bowie, so how ‘bout you come downstairs so I can roll out the cake and let them sing the damn song?”
Callie tucked her face into his neck, her body shaking with laughter.
“You want to give me a minute here, Marcella?”
“No, but for the sake of polite company, I will. One minute, Fin.” She left the door open behind her.
Callie lowered her legs but kept her arms around his neck. “You’ll get to unwrap your present after they leave.”
“Damn right I will.”
As they came down the staircase, he found the living room filled with familiar faces from his past and present. His and Callie’s families, old teachers, Coach, his staff, neighbors, and his Dad’s friends. A warm feeling settled over him. He had a full and beautiful life. He couldn’t ask for anything more.
The moment he hit the bottom of the stairs, arms reached to embrace him.
“Happy birthday, Fin.”
“Hey, man, happy birthday.”
And then the group launched into the birthday song. Marcella and a cake blazing with candles parted the crowd as she made her way to him. Golden candlelight lit her features as she watched him with pride. The chorus grew louder and stronger, until she stopped right in front of him. Callie’s hand rested in the middle of his back.
Someone shouted, “Blow out the candles!”
Just as he drew in a breath and leaned forward, he heard a voice call, “Excuse me?”
Everyone turned to see a woman standing in the doorway. In her arms, she held a little girl with a tumble of auburn curls. Her face was turned into the woman’s neck, hidden behind the stuffed chicken she clutched in one tiny arm.
“I’m looking for the Bowies?” the woman said.
And with that the little girl’s head popped up, and she eyed the roomful of strangers with a mix of challenge and stubborn determination.
A wave of shock rippled across the room. Someone said, “Oh, my God.”
Because there was no mistaking it. From the bright blue eyes to the shape of her face and that defiant expression, that girl was a Bowie.
The question was—
“Whose kid is she?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Under the bright blue umbrella on the patio table, the little girl bounced a huge stuffed chicken in her lap. Her tumble of brown curls fluttered in the soft June breeze. Beside her, Marcella, their long-time house manager, read something on the screen of her laptop while talking on her cell phone…
…ordering a stroller.
Will Bowie couldn’t wrap his head around it. That kid? That two-year-old? She might be theirs.
She was theirs. Look at her. A shaft of sunlight gleamed on her hair, revealing bronze and gold strands tangled among the brown—exactly like Will and his brothers. And those blue eyes?
They’re mine.
But she wasn’t his. He knew that for sure. So, whose was she?
In a few minutes, their lawyer would walk in the door with the birth certificate they’d subpoenaed from the hospital. But it wouldn’t matter what name was on that document—all their lives would change.
Because they’d handle it as a family. The four of them would raise her together.
“It’s not complicated.” From her throne on the leather club chair, his mom sounded exasperated. “Which one of you slept with Christy Leigh?”
Their mother had flown out to Calamity for the opening of his brother’s resort. As luck would have it, she’d also gotten hit with the whammy of finding out she was a grandmother. Maybe.
Probably.
Had it been a boy, she wouldn’t have cared. She’d only kept popping out babies in the hopes of scoring a girl. She’d washed her hands of the whole mess after the fourth son.
She wouldn’t stay involved, though. The type of mother who could walk out on her own children—ages six, seven, nine, and eleven—wouldn’t hang around to raise this feisty little girl. He’d give his mom a week before she hightailed it back to Manhattan.
“Well, it obviously wasn’t me.” His youngest brother, Fin, had only ever been with one woman—his childhood sweetheart.
“Obviously.” Brodie laughed.
“But, seriously, man,” Gray said. “You’ve never been the least bit curious what it’d be like with someone else?”
“No.” Fin’s response was so immediate, so frank, that everyone stared at him.
Anyway, that left the three of them.
Two. Will had never slept with Christy Leigh.
“Well, I don’t even know who she is,” Gray said.
“You say that like it eliminates you.” Brodie, the brother closest in age to Will, grinned.
Gray seemed the most likely to have fathered a kid he didn’t know about. He led a nomadic life, chasing the biggest waves and fiercest snow storms. With his easy-going nature, he found fun everywhere he landed.
“You make an excellent point.” Gray gave him a lazy look. “Nevertheless, the kid’s twenty-seven months, which means she was conceived exactly three years ago. I’m in Bali every June, big brother. I couldn’t have knocked Christy up.”
The attention turned to the last remaining brother.
“Don’t look at me.” Brodie raised both hands. “I live in Utah.”
All three brothers gave him a look that said, So? Brodie spent more time at home in Wyoming than in his office. In fact, he’d spent the past year turning the ghost town on their property into a high-end resort that opened to the public next week. So, yeah, he’d spent a lot of time in Calamity.
“She doesn’t have to be one of ours.” Fin pointed out the obvious. “The baby book says she’s a Bowie, but there are other Bowies out there.”
“In Calamity, there’s only us and Uncle Lachlan.” Brodie shook his head. “And there’s no way Ruby’s mom slept with an old man rocking a pompadour.”
Two days ago, right in the middle of Fin’s twenty-fourth birthday party, a woman had shown up at the house with Ruby Leigh in tow. Apparently, the little girl’s mom had left her with a babysitter for a long weekend in Big Sky and never come home.
Brutal car accident on the Gallatin Road. Damn.
Thanks to Wyoming’s Kinship Placement program, they’d allowed Ruby to stay with the only babysitter she’d ever known until they found a forever home for her. But when the sitter had gone to Ruby’s house to pick up some clothes and toys, she’d found a baby book.
So, they knew everything about her firsts—first smile, first time she’d rolled over, and the first time she’d walked—and they knew a Bowie had fathered her.
They just didn’t know which one.
In a rustle of fabric, their mom shot off the chair. “Stop playing around.” She looked like she was waiting for them to feel chastised. When it didn’t happen, she clamped her lips together and tipped her head back. “This stupid sense of loyalty your father drummed into you.” She let out a frustrated breath and said, “You know she’s Will’s.” She flicked a hand in the vicinity of the backyard. “She’s a carbon copy of him.”
The way she looked at him—with such disdain—sliced the skin of an old scar. But trying to prove himself to her was a waste of time, so he focused on his brothers. “We’re not going to know anything until we get the birth certificate.” Which would happen any minute. “So there’s no point in speculating. The only thing we do know is, if she’s one of ours, we’re going to take care of her. As a family. So the important conversation is how we’re going to do it.”
“Her father will be responsible for her.” Her gaze bore into him with a message that demanded he meet his responsibilities.
Jesus, would she ever see him as anything other than the reckless kid she’d left behind? “I know that. My point is, whoever’s her father, we’re all going to help. We’re her family.”
“Dude.” Gray held out his arm. All four brothers reached in and bumped fists.
“I think that’s a lovely sentiment, and exactly what your father would expect of you, but someone’s got to be the voice of reason here. And the fact is none of you has any idea what it’s like to raise a child.”
To his brothers’ credit, no one said the obvious, And you do? Because she wasn’t the point. “We’ll learn.”
“On the fly,” Brodie said. “Like every other parent.”
Their mom folded her arms across her stomach. “Most parents don’t have your lifestyles, which in no way suit raising a child.”
“Our lifestyles will change,” Fin said.
“Don’t get me wrong,” their mom said. “I think it’s lovely that you want to take care of her, but she’s not even two and a half. She’s young enough that she won’t remember her mother. She can assimilate quite seamlessly into a new family. Maybe the best choice is to give her that. A mother, a father, siblings. She needs the kind of dedication and care that four single men simply can’t give her.”
His mom had never been good at reading body language, so she probably didn’t notice how all the men’s postures went rigid, their features hard. Will spoke for all of them. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t suggest we give our niece up for adoption.”
“I’m sorry.” But, of course, she sounded more belligerent than apologetic. She pointed to Gray. “Aren’t you heading off to Bali for a surfing competition that will lead you to God knows what adventure next? You probably won’t even be home until September.” She lifted a chin toward Brodie. “You’re missing the opening of your own resort to spend the summer in Asia.”
She made it sound like Brodie was screwing off, but he’d finally realized his dream of making the Olympic terrain park design team at his firm, and construction for next Winter Games began this summer. He couldn’t miss that opportunity.
Her hand flicked toward Fin. “And he’s heading off to Europe for the summer with his girlfriend.”
“Fiancée,” Fin said.
“And while you might be home this summer…” Will’s mom looked at him like he was a registered sex offender. “You’ve just come back from six months of competitions all over the world. None of you is in any position to raise that little girl.” Still not reading their body language, she said, “None of you is ready to be a father.”
It struck him how different this conversation would be going if their dad had been alive.
Not a day went by—a little more than two years since his death—that something didn’t trigger a memory, giving Will a slam of grief that buckled his knees and knocked the air out of his lungs.
And the idea that Mack Bowie wouldn’t meet his granddaughter—dammit. He turned away, sorrow crashing over him. That little girl would miss out on getting to know her grandpa, and that was a damn shame. Their dad was the best man Will had ever known. He’d know just how to raise this kid.
If she’s ours.
Is she?
But his dad wasn’t here, so Will had to handle it. He turned back to his mom. “I’m going to say this one more time, and that’ll be the last we ever speak of it. If the paternity test shows she’s our blood, we’re going to raise her. If you can’t handle that, then you’ll need to leave, because there will be no discussion whatsoever of adoption or sending her away.”
Remembering the ultimatum she’d given his dad, You either send Will to boarding school, or I’m leaving, Will’s determination doubled down. “That little girl will never be exposed to any idea other than the fact that she’s one of us and we love her. You get me?”
“Oh, don’t make me out to be the cold-blooded mother who left her family. You all could have stayed in the city with me—”
Except me. You didn’t take me.
You took my brothers—but left me behind. No, Will didn’t value her opinion much at all. “I’m going to need an answer.”
She held his gaze with a defiant expression, but she had to know he’d follow through. He wouldn’t let his mom anywhere near this child if she held even a sliver of belief that Ruby belonged with another family.
“I get you.” Each word had the texture of hard candy stuck in her teeth.
“The only thing that matters is finding out whether she’s a Bowie.” He glanced out the window again. The chicken’s big yellow legs flopped every time Ruby lowered it to the table.
His mom let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, she’s a Bowie all right.” Her gaze held accusation.
Will led a simple life. Sure, from an outsider’s perspective he lived on a three-hundred-thousand-acre legacy ranch in the Tetons. He’d won the World Games Freestyle Halfpipe a good number of times. But he lived a clean life. He didn’t lie, steal, cheat. So, the idea that his mom would think he’d deny sleeping with Christy…knowing the paternity results would show up in the next day or so….
It tells me exactly what kind of man she thinks I am.
Her opinion doesn’t matter. “The point is—”
“Hang on a sec,” Gray said. “I want to make sure I’ve got this right. Basically, you’re saying the kid’s Will’s, but he’s such a hooligan you’d rather see his daughter—your granddaughter—put up for adoption? Do I have that right?”
His mom narrowed her eyes. “That fine sense of loyalty your father instilled in you might just be blinding you to what’s in her best interests.”
“It didn’t come from Dad.” The words tumbled out of Will’s mouth without forethought, but he didn’t back down. “A mother walking out on her kids teaches a hard lesson on family loyalty.”
“Excuse me?”
But Brodie rolled right over the flare-up. “You get that Will just won the World Games for the seventh time, right? That means for seven years in a row he’s outperformed every other freestyle skier in the world. That’s unprecedented.”
He wouldn’t let them defend him to her. “I’ve already got a list of nanny agencies—”
“No, hang on.” Gray, normally unflappable, stepped closer to their mom. “What he’s accomplished? Winning seven times? It comes from pure dedication, determination. It comes from—”
“Stop.” Will couldn’t take another second of it. “Any minute now we’re going to find out who her father is and, as soon as we do, I’m getting on the phone and starting the interview process.” Their house manager was taking care of the nursery, and Callie, Fin’s fiancée, was at the grocery store getting kid food. “Fin, you go to Europe with Callie on her buying trip. You two…” He tipped his chin to Brodie and Gray. “Depending on the results, you can do your thing. I’m here this summer anyhow, so I’ll get everything set up, hire the nanny—”
“It’s not going to be easy to find someone who’ll move out here,” Brodie said.
“That’s for sure.” Their mom, who’d moved to New York City seventeen years ago and never looked back, gave a bitter laugh.
“Unless they’re local,” Fin said.
“We don’t want seasonal help,” Brodie said.
“We don’t?” Gray said with a smile.
An historical western town at the foot of the Tetons, Calamity’s population swelled during tourist seasons. The resorts and restaurants had their pick of ski lovers and hikers who wanted to live in mountain paradise for a few months.
“We need someone who’ll stay,” Will said. “We’re not having nannies in and out of her life.”
The doorbell rang. Everyone jerked toward the sound.
For most of his life, he’d had his dad to count on. In all the worst situations, Mack Bowie had taken control. He was the kind of man who faced his fears—walked right through them.
So that’s what I’ll do.
He broke away from the pack and headed to the door. Sensation ripped across his skin as he turned the handle. But, instead of seeing their lawyer, his dark hair, pressed khakis and button-down shirt, he found the babysitter—the same woman who’d delivered the kid to their house the day be
fore yesterday.
“Hi.” She gave him a tentative smile. “I hope it’s okay if I stopped by.”
“Of course.” He stepped back to let her in.
“I found something when I went back to get the rest of Ruby’s things.” She lifted a white plastic garbage bag, the contents weighing the bottom down.
That’s all this kid has in the world, what’s in that bag.
No matter what name they found on the birth certificate, he would make sure Ruby had everything she needed. He’d take her into town that afternoon, let her pick out some books, puzzles, blocks…whatever she wanted.
“This was in Christy’s desk drawer.” She held up a file folder, turning it around so it faced Will.
Death file.
“It’s got all her bank account and insurance information, passwords, stuff like that.” She pulled out a piece of plain white paper. “And a will. Not an official one, but she says what she wants in the event of her death. And she names the father.”
His brothers crowded around, as Will took the sheet of paper.
The woman gave an apologetic smile. “At least we know for sure she’s yours.” And then she looked beyond him to their mother. “I’m sorry.”
Why would she apologize to their mom?
“Well, come on. What’s it say?” Brodie leaned over to read the paper. “Holy shit.”
Will skimmed until he got to a name.
“Who’s the father?” Fin asked.
It was the babysitter who answered. “Mack Bowie.” She looked right into Will’s eyes. “Your dad.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“More cake?” Delilah Lua’s sister gathered the wrapping paper and ribbons and shoved them into a big, black garbage bag
“You guys.” As the youngest of seven kids, Delilah was used to being teased, but tonight they were killing her. “I love you, but can I please open my present?” She’d waited her whole life for her twenty-sixth birthday—for the gift every Lua kid got on this special day.
“Well, hang on. There’s one more.” Her sister gestured to the rectangular package resting against the wall.
