The Secret Heir

by Gina Wilkins

  Laurel looked down at her lap and shook her head. “I’m not trying to start anything, either. I didn’t say anything about your work.”

  “You always make it clear enough that you think I spend too much time working. Even though you know we need the money.”

  “And you make it just as clear that you’ve never wanted me to work at all, even if it helps with the money.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I’ve never needed help supporting my family.”

  It was an old argument, and one Laurel doubted they would ever settle. When it came to family roles, Jackson’s attitudes were straight out of the last century—the early part of the last century.

  Carl Reiss had taken such pride in the fact that his wife—a hardworking, financially strapped waitress when he’d met her—had never had to work since he’d married her. Jackson had always believed it was his responsibility to provide his son with a full-time mother, like he’d had during his entire childhood.

  No matter how often Laurel had tried to explain it to him, he just couldn’t seem to grasp the fact that her work gave her something she simply couldn’t find within the walls of their nice, middle-class home. And it wasn’t money. Yes, she dealt with every working mother’s guilt and stress, but she truly felt as though she was a better mother because of her career.

  Jackson had never quite understood that Laurel was nothing like Donna Reiss, whose whole life revolved around her husband, son and grandson, and who had never seemed to need anything more. Unfortunately, Laurel and Jackson had been married for several months with a child on the way before that first glow of giddy infatuation had dimmed enough to let them see their differences.

  Drawing a deep breath, Laurel reminded herself that a crisis with a child’s health could cause stress in even the healthiest marriage. She and Jackson were facing months of difficult times ahead. It would do no one any good, especially their son, if they fell apart now.

  “I really don’t want to quarrel with you tonight,” she said, making no effort to disguise her fear and exhaustion. “I just want to get back to Tyler.”

  Jackson released a long sigh. “I don’t want to quarrel, either. I’m sorry. It’s been a…rough day.”

  Because she understood him well enough to know what Tyler’s illness was doing to him, especially considering Jackson’s compulsive need to take care of his family, she felt her irritation with him fading. “Yes, it has. For both of us. And I’m sorry, too.”

  Their eyes met across the table. For just a moment they were connected again, mentally bonded, the way they had been that first time they had met at a party he hadn’t wanted to attend. It was as if they had been able to sense each other’s emotions, an ability they seemed to have lost sometime after the birth of their child.

  Someone dropped a tray on the other side of the room. The crash made Laurel and Jackson start, breaking the visual contact between them, along with everything else. Laurel reached for her purse while Jackson disposed of their trays.

  They didn’t say much as they returned to Tyler’s room, simply agreeing that Jackson would return early the next morning with a change of clothes for her. He offered to stay the night with her, but she reminded him of how small the room was, adding that someone had to take care of things at home during the next few days.

  Tyler was still sleeping when they entered his room, his beloved penguin clutched against his chest. Donna sat in the rocking chair, very close to the bed. Carl paced from his wife’s side to the single window and back again.

  “Go home, Mom. Get some rest,” Jackson urged her. “It’s going to be a long week.”

  Donna reached out to smooth Tyler’s hair. “I hate to leave him here.”

  “Laurel’s staying with him.”

  “Yes, of course.” Without looking at Laurel, Donna bent to brush a kiss over Tyler’s flushed cheek. “Good night, precious. Gammy will see you tomorrow.”

  Jackson ushered his parents out. Donna bade Laurel a polite good night, but it was Carl who stopped in front of her, taking her hands in his work-roughened ones as he searched her face. “You’ll be all right?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “You call if you need anything, you hear? Anything at all.”

  This was where Jackson had gotten his deeply in-grained sense of responsibility to his family. Just as Carl had been providing for Donna for more than thirty years, he now seemed to feel as though he should offer his protection to his son’s wife in a time of crisis.

  Donna thrived on being pampered and cosseted, while Laurel was more likely to feel smothered and stifled. Still, she couldn’t help but respond to the genuine concern in Carl’s kindly eyes. “Thank you. I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

  Satisfied with her answer, he released her and turned to follow his wife out of the room. Jackson stayed another hour. Keeping their voices low to avoid disturbing Tyler, he and Laurel continued to discuss the practicalities of the next day—rearranging their work schedules, contacting their insurance agent, canceling a couple of appointments. Both very cordial and efficient, they kept their emotions—about their son and each other—tightly reined.

  Eventually, Jackson glanced at his watch and sighed. “I might as well head home. You’re sure you don’t need anything before I go?”

  “Just bring back the things on the list I gave you when you come back in the morning. I’m set until then.”

  He nodded. “Call me if you think of anything else.”

  “I will.” She watched as he stood for a moment beside the bed, looking down at their sleeping child. Jackson reached out a hand as if to stroke Tyler’s tousled hair, but then drew it back, perhaps because he didn’t want to disturb the boy. He turned away from the bed with visible reluctance.

  Laurel stood beside the door as Jackson prepared to leave. Though it was quiet in this room, sounds from the hallway outside drifted in—staff talking and laughing at the nurses’ station, carts squeaking on the linoleum, the rhythmic swishing of the janitor’s broom. They were sounds she heard often in her job as a placement social worker for the Children’s Connection adoption agency, which was affiliated with this hospital, but it was all different tonight. Unnervingly so.

  Jackson must have read something in her expression. “You’re sure you don’t want me to stay?”

  Even as she assured him once again that everything would be fine, she wondered how many more times she would have to say it before she believed it herself.

  Jackson bent his head to kiss her goodbye. The very slight hesitation just before their lips touched had nothing to do with current circumstances; she had noticed it several times when he’d kissed her during the past few months.

  Watching the door close behind him, she couldn’t help thinking of the kisses they had shared early in their whirlwind courtship—eager, passionate, joyous and thorough. There had been no hesitation between them then, not even at the very beginning. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly when the kisses had changed, or what had caused the change, but she felt the gulf between them growing wider all the time.

  Impatiently shaking her head, she turned back to the rocking chair. She had a sick child to worry about now. This was no time to analyze the condition of her ailing marriage.

  Thursday was, perhaps, the longest day in Jackson’s life. Every minute seemed to crawl past with agonizing slowness. He had never been one to sit still for very long, and the forced inactivity of hospital waiting was a frustrating ordeal for him.

  Laurel’s attention was focused exclusively on their son, of course. Jackson’s mother spent most of the day at the hospital and she, too, dedicated herself to keeping Tyler calm and entertained. Laurel and Donna were, as always, impeccably polite to each other.

  Jackson paced, restlessly roaming the room and the hallways, rocking on his feet, trying not to think about the surgery tomorrow and trying not to envy his father, who had decided to spend the day working, since there was nothing productive he could do at the hospital.

 
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to spend the day with his family, Jackson assured himself with a touch of guilt. It was just that there was nothing here for him to do. Nothing to make him feel as though he was accomplishing something worthwhile.

  He lasted until midday. When it occurred to him that he, Laurel and Donna were all simply sitting there watching Tyler eat his lunch, he surged impatiently to his feet. “I think I’ll go see how things are going at the job site.”

  Tyler immediately set down his spoon and pushed away the rolling bed tray. “I go, too.”

  Forcing a smile, Jackson ruffled his son’s hair. “Not this time, buddy.”

  The boy’s lower lip protruded in a familiar manner. “Don’t wanna stay here.”

  “I’ll be back soon. I promise.”

  But Tyler had had enough of this place. Shaking his head, he held out his arms to his father, looking fully prepared to launch into one of his rare, but daunting, tantrums. “Daddy. Wanna go with Daddy.”

  Jackson could almost feel Laurel’s disapproving look on the back of his neck, silently blaming him for starting this when things had been going so well before. He grew immediately defensive in response, as he so often did with her lately. “There’s really nothing I can do here for now,” he said to her. “And I have responsibilities to my job.”

  “As do I,” she murmured.

  Always the peacemaker, Donna jumped in hastily to avert Tyler’s impending outburst and placate his parents. “Tyler, sweetie, Gammy’s going to play a game with you as soon as you’ve finished eating, remember? We talked about it. And, Jackson, there’s no reason for you to stay here twiddling your thumbs now when you’ll very likely be here all day tomorrow. Run along to take care of things at your job site. Actually, Laurel, you can check in at your office, too, if you’d like. It isn’t as if you would be far away. Tyler and I will be just fine here, won’t we, darling?”

  She spooned a bite of orange sherbet into the boy’s mouth as she spoke. That treat, and the promise of a game with his beloved grandmother, was enough to mollify him somewhat. He sniffed and reached again for the spoon.

  “I’ll stay with my son,” Laurel said.

  Was that another dig at him? Jackson could no longer tell if he was only imagining disapproval in her eyes when she looked at him. “Guess I’ll go on, then. Have fun playing your game with Gammy, Tyler. I’ll be back soon and I’ll have a surprise for you, okay?”

  He heard Laurel sigh, but Tyler smiled. For now Jackson told himself that was enough.

  As he left the hospital room, he couldn’t help remembering a time when Laurel had smiled at him with such affection. And he wondered sadly whatever had happened to those smiles. He missed them. He missed her, damn it.

  Stalking through the hospital exit doors, he headed for his truck on the parking deck. He needed to be at work. At least he felt somewhat in control of that part of his life, if nowhere else.

  Three

  Laurel knew the day was moving too slowly for Jackson, but as far as she was concerned the time was speeding past too quickly. Every hour that went by was another hour closer to the time when her baby went under the surgeon’s knife.

  She felt as though she was clinging to her sanity by her fingernails. Nervous from the beginning about her ability to be a good mother, especially considering the miserable example set by her own, she didn’t know what she was supposed to do now, in this time of crisis. She didn’t even know what questions she should be asking of the medical professionals who bustled in and out of Tyler’s room during the day.

  Lacking a strong role model and reluctant to reveal her maternal insecurities to Jackson or his parents, Laurel had long ago come up with a plan of sorts. Her own mother had been so incompetent in the role, had made so many mistakes, that it seemed obvious that Laurel should ask herself what her mother would do in any situation—and then do the opposite. Since Janice had tended to disappear whenever Laurel needed her most, Laurel had no intention of leaving Tyler’s side during this ordeal.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to take a break, Laurel?” Donna asked late that afternoon. “Except to go with Tyler for his tests this afternoon, you haven’t left this room all day. You even ate your lunch in here, what little you choked down. At least I had a chance to get out for an hour when Carl came by for a late lunch with me. Why don’t you go out for a walk in the meditation garden? It’s lovely out there now that it’s stopped raining.”

  “I’d rather stay with Tyler,” Laurel replied, keeping her voice low, as Donna had. Tyler had fallen asleep a short while earlier. Though he was a heavy sleeper, neither of them wanted to risk waking him from his nap too soon, which would leave him cranky for the remainder of the evening.

  Donna glanced at the wall clock. “Jackson should be back soon. Maybe you and he can have dinner in the cafeteria.”

  “Perhaps.” Laurel made a show of studying one of the informational brochures a nurse had given her earlier, though she was having trouble concentrating on the guidelines for postoperative care.

  “I, um…” Donna cleared her throat delicately, a sign that she wasn’t sure how her next words would be received. “I hope you aren’t annoyed that Jackson felt the need to work this afternoon. He’s so much like my Carl. Neither of them can sit still for long when they could be doing something worthwhile, instead. Carl instilled a strong work ethic in Jackson from a very early age, you know.”

  “I’m not annoyed.” And she didn’t need Donna lecturing her about her husband, she thought resentfully. And then she sighed and ran a hand through her dark-blond hair, aware that weariness and stress were making her cranky. Maybe she should be the one taking a nap.

  “Jackson tries so hard to be like Carl.” Donna’s eyes were unfocused now, her voice barely louder than a whisper; it almost seemed that she was talking more to herself than to Laurel. “It’s almost as if—”

  “As if what?”

  Donna blinked, then shook her head impatiently. “I suppose I’m just tired.”

  “Then maybe you’re the one who should get out for a while. There’s really no reason for you to sit here with me.”

  Donna’s red-tinted lips twisted into a smile. “You probably wish I would leave for a while. But I…well, I just need to be close to my grandson today.”

  Because that was one sentiment she understood completely—perhaps the only thing she and Donna had in common—Laurel merely nodded and looked down at the brochure again. She really needed to prepare herself for Tyler’s postoperative care.

  Jackson sat at the same cafeteria table at which he had sat the night before, overlooking the same rapidly darkening courtyard. It was dinnertime again, though a bit earlier than he had eaten the night before. This time it was his parents, rather than his wife, who faced him from the other side of the table.

  Despite Jackson’s attempts to coax her out of the hospital room, Laurel had insisted on dining from a tray in Tyler’s room. He’d gotten the distinct impression that she wanted the rest of them to leave her alone with her son. And he couldn’t help resenting that she seemed to be closing him out again.

  “We may have to physically restrain her from going into the operating room with Tyler in the morning,” he muttered, stabbing his fork into the pasta on his plate.

  “She’s just worried about him,” Donna said soothingly, toying unenthusiastically with her own chef’s salad. “She doesn’t want to let him out of her sight, as if nothing bad can happen to him as long as she’s with him to protect him. I understand completely.”

  Jackson shrugged. “Wish I understood her completely.”

  There was a taut moment of silence.

  “Jackson,” Donna said rather tentatively, “you and Laurel are going to need each other during the next few weeks. Don’t let this ordeal drive a wedge between you.”

  Jackson figured his parents had to be aware that his and Laurel’s marriage had been shaky for a while now. They weren’t stupid, nor were they unobservant, especially where he
was concerned. “To be honest, I don’t know what, if anything, Laurel will need during these next few weeks. Even if she does need something from me, she sure as hell won’t admit it.”

  It wasn’t like him to complain, and he was almost surprised to hear the words escaping him. Apparently the stress of his son’s illness was affecting him more than he had realized.

  He knew Laurel hadn’t been as fortunate as he had when it came to having supportive, always-available parents. Her father had abandoned her early, and her mother had been, from what little Laurel had told him, pretty much worthless as a parent, finally getting killed in a car accident while Laurel was still in high school. But knowing about Laurel’s troubled upbringing didn’t help him understand her much better, especially since she absolutely refused to open up to him.

  “I’ve been aware that your marriage has been strained lately,” Donna admitted with regret. “But I’m sure you can work it out, darling. Laurel loves Tyler so much. As reserved as she is about her feelings, anyone can look at her and see that. And since you love him just as much, that’s something the two of you share. Maybe this crisis will draw you closer together, if you’ll let it.”

  Because he thought his mother needed to hear it, Jackson nodded and murmured, “Maybe you’re right.”

  He wasn’t so sure himself. Laurel seemed like a stranger to him these days. So different from the laughing, playful, passionate woman he had swept into marriage.

  God, he missed that earlier Laurel. He would give anything to understand what had become of her.

  And then Carl spoke, typically uncomfortable with the strong emotions surging around him. “Everything’s going to be fine.”