The Secret Heir

by Gina Wilkins

  Always happy to play with art supplies, Tyler settled in his booster seat at the kitchen table to scribble contentedly. It wasn’t long before a stack of colorful, sticker-covered works of art littered the kitchen.

  Needing something to occupy her own hands, Laurel got out pans and ingredients and started baking. It was something she enjoyed doing occasionally, something her own mother had never attempted, as far as she knew.

  Laurel didn’t bake because mothers were expected to bake, which would have been Donna’s reason, but because she simply enjoyed the measuring and stirring and the delicious aromas that ensued. Not to mention that she liked eating the results, an indulgence she didn’t allow herself very often.

  There was little pleasure in going through the motions that day. Nor did she imagine that she would have an appetite for sweets, or anything else, until she knew what was going on with Jackson. But baking a fresh banana nut cake gave her something to do besides worry.

  When someone tapped on the kitchen door just as the oven timer dinged to let her know the cake was done, her first thought was that Jackson had come home, until she realized he wouldn’t need to knock.

  She took the cake out and went to open the door to find her father-in-law on the other side. He held a wrapped package in his callused hands and wore a vaguely apologetic look on his weathered face.

  “Carl. Please, come in.”

  “I’m sorry if I’m disturbing anything.”

  “No, Tyler’s just finished playing with his new markers. I was going to let him watch a cartoon before lunch.”

  “Want to see Scooby-Doo, Gampy?” Tyler offered.

  Carl’s face softened when he looked at the boy. “No, thanks, Tyler. I need to talk to your mom. But I brought you a present from your grandmother. She would have come herself, but she isn’t feeling very well.”

  Laurel thought for a moment that Tyler was going to be quite spoiled by the time he was fully recuperated from his surgery if he grew accustomed to receiving presents every day, but she decided to worry about that later. She watched as he ripped into the package and exclaimed in pleasure over the toy inside. After instructing him to thank his grandfather, she sent him into the den to play with the new toy.

  “Can I get you anything, Carl? I just took a banana nut cake out of the oven. It will be cool enough to frost in a little while.”

  “I’m not hungry, but I’d take a cup of that coffee if it’s still fresh.”

  “It is. I’ve been chugging it by the pot today.” Motioning him to the table, she filled a mug and carried it to him. She knew he drank his coffee black, and that he liked it strong.

  Taking a sip, he nodded approval. “It’s good. You always make good coffee.”

  “It’s not that hard. The coffeemaker pretty much does everything on its own.”

  He grunted. “Doesn’t stop some people from ruining it, anyway.”

  Cradling the mug between his hands, he cleared his throat. “I take it Jay’s not here?”

  “No. He left early this morning before I woke up. I don’t know where he is.”

  “He’s always been one to go off by himself when he’s troubled. He’s probably walking a beach somewhere. He says he thinks better when there aren’t any other distractions around him.”

  And he would see her as a distraction, rather than a help, Laurel thought sadly. “He wouldn’t talk to me. He didn’t tell me what happened to upset him.”

  Carl sighed. “He should have talked to you.”

  “He didn’t.” She looked down at her hands as she added in a near whisper, “He rarely does.”

  “I made some mistakes with Jay,” Carl admitted. “I spent so much time teaching him to be strong and independent that I might have overdone it a bit.”

  Laurel moistened her lips. “I tend to be a bit too independent myself. It’s the way I was raised also, though for different reasons.”

  Carl had been trying to teach Jackson to be a self-sufficient adult, while Laurel’s mother was more interested in making her own job as a parent easier. But maybe the end results had been eerily similar.

  Clasping her hands in her lap, she leaned forward a bit in her seat. “Carl, will you tell me what happened? I need to know.”

  Carl shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “That’s not really my place, Laurel. I just came by to see if there was anything I can do for you. And I was kind of hoping Jay would be here, and that he would be willing to talk to me.”

  “Talk to you about what?”

  Carl merely shook his head. “He’ll tell you. When he’s ready.”

  Laurel wanted to snarl in frustration. In fact, the sound that escaped her came very close to a growl as she leapt to her feet. “Why do I even try? I’m not a part of this family. I never have been.”

  “Now, Laurel—”

  “You know it’s true. Donna has disapproved of me since Jackson brought me home and introduced me to her.”

  “It wasn’t that she disapproved. She just didn’t have much chance to get to know you before you and Jay got married. And then almost immediately afterward there was Tyler, and all her attention turned to him. She loves that little boy, you know.”

  “I know. And I would never deprive him of the love of his grandparents. I just wish…”

  She didn’t actually know what she wished. She wouldn’t try to deny that the rift between them was as much her fault as Donna’s.

  “If it makes you feel any better, Jay isn’t talking to me, either,” Carl said glumly.

  “No, that doesn’t make me feel any better at all.” She sighed and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “But I wouldn’t worry about Jackson staying mad at you for long. You and he are so close.”

  The look that flashed across Carl’s usually implacable face startled her. It reminded her all too much of the pain she had seen in her husband’s eyes at that same table only a few hours before.

  “Carl?”

  “I just hope Jay can forgive Donna and me both,” he muttered. And then he pushed away from the table. “I’d better go check on my wife. You call me if you need anything, you hear? I’ll come right back.”

  He was trying so hard to hold the family together even in the face of this new crisis—whatever it was. Laurel couldn’t help but be touched by his efforts. If her own father had ever been around to offer help and encouragement, maybe it would be easier for her to turn to other people now.

  “Jackson’s lucky to have you for a father,” she said, because Carl seemed to need to hear it.

  But maybe that wasn’t what he needed to hear at all, because he looked even sadder than before when he patted her arm and let himself out.

  Jackson finally showed up late that afternoon. Laurel had just put Tyler down for a nap and was preparing to pace and fret when she glanced up to find Jackson standing in a doorway, looking at her with no expression at all on his face.

  “You startled me,” she said, placing a hand on her heart. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “You were upstairs. I heard you singing to Tyler.”

  Tyler had requested his favorite song, “You Are My Sunshine.” He often begged her to sing it to him before he went to sleep.

  “How’s he doing?” Jackson glanced at the stairway as he spoke.

  “He’s fine. He still tires more easily than usual and he doesn’t protest when I put him down for naps.”

  “Which only proves that he isn’t quite back to normal.”

  She nodded. “It won’t be long before he screams at the very word nap again, I’m sure.”

  Laurel hoped her own smile didn’t look as pathetic as Jackson’s. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I’m sure he will.”

  So much for that conversation. They stood awkwardly in the center of the den, searching for something to say and deliberately not looking at each other.

  She wanted to ask him where he’d been. She wanted to ask what was going on, and why he hadn’t already told her. Most of all, she wanted to ask if there was anyt
hing she could do to take the pain from his eyes. It was only her fear that he would turn away from her that kept her from asking any of those questions.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked instead, seizing onto a safer topic. “I have some soup. And fresh banana cake.”

  “I’m not hungry right now.”

  “Coffee?”

  “No, nothing, thanks.”

  She pushed her hands down the sides of the black slacks she wore with an emerald shirt, nervously drying palms that hadn’t really been damp. “Would you like to sit down?”

  As soon as the words left her mouth, she winced. She sounded ridiculously like a gracious hostess speaking to a guest in her home.

  Jackson must have been thinking very much along the same lines. “Have I really been home that rarely?” he asked in a wry mutter, passing her as he moved toward the couch.

  “You work hard. Your boss expects a lot from you.”

  “And now you’re making excuses for me.” He sighed, settling wearily into the couch cushions. “I must really look like hell.”

  “Yes,” she said, studying the deep lines around his eyes and mouth. “You do.”

  He only nodded and shoved a hand through his hair.

  She moved to perch on the other end of the couch, half turned to face him, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She was trying not to ask the questions teeming inside her mind, but she was prepared to listen when he was ready to talk.

  His head against the cushion, he closed his eyes, looking so tired and defeated that her heart ached for him. And then he drew a deep breath, sat up straighter, and squared his shoulders. This was his man-in-charge expression, she thought in resignation.

  When he spoke, his voice was brisk, steady and unemotional. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking during the past couple of days.”

  “About…?”

  “What do you think about moving to Texas?”

  She felt her eyes widen. Of all the things he might have said, she never could have predicted this question. “Why on earth would you want to move to Texas?”

  “Remember Kelsey—Mike Kelsey, who used to work with me?”

  “Yes. He moved to Houston a couple of years ago, didn’t he?”

  “Yeah. Anyway, he and I have stayed in touch, he calls or comes by the site when he’s in town a couple times a year visiting his folks. He was here last month, and he told me then that the construction business is thriving in that area. He said he was sure he could get me on as a foreman with his company. And he thought there was a chance he and I could strike out on our own within a couple of years, make a decent living in residential construction.”

  “But…why?”

  “Well, you know I haven’t been getting on all that well with my boss. And there are excellent medical facilities in Texas for Tyler. I imagine they have need for skilled social workers there, too.”

  At least he was acknowledging her in some small way. “How long have you been considering this move?”

  “I guess it’s been in the back of my mind since Kelsey brought it up. Since Tyler got sick, I’ve been thinking about it more.”

  Laurel couldn’t help but be skeptical. Was this really related to Tyler’s surgery—or did it have more to do with whatever Donna had told Jackson yesterday? “But you love Portland. You grew up here.”

  He shrugged. “Might be nice to live someplace new for a change. Someplace where it doesn’t rain all the time,” he added with a crooked smile that didn’t quite work.

  “You’ve always said you like the rain. And you love the rocky beaches.”

  “They have beaches in Texas. The Gulf of Mexico is only an hour’s drive from Houston.”

  “Totally different types of beaches than Oregon.”

  “So we’ll try something different. I’m thirty-one years old, and I’ve never lived more than twenty miles from the hospital where I was born. I think it’s past time for me to see a little more of what’s out there. It would be good for us, I think. Give us a chance to make a fresh start—just you and me and Tyler.”

  If he had suggested this move a couple of years ago, maybe even a few months ago, Laurel would have jumped at the chance. As much as she loved working at Children’s Connection, the offer of a fresh start in a new place with her husband and son would have been irresistible. But not like this.

  “And what about your parents?” she asked evenly.

  He lifted an eyebrow, as if in mild surprise at her question. “They’ll be fine. We’ll visit, of course, but it isn’t really necessary for us to live fifteen minutes away from them. They have their lives; we need our own.”

  She was growing sadder by the moment. As much as Jackson was trying to convince her that this was a move for them, a chance for them to be closer together, she felt even more shut out than before.

  She had no doubt that Jackson loved her. Just as she loved him. So why couldn’t love be enough to bridge the emotional distance between them?

  “Are you planning to tell me the real reason why you want to run to Texas, or am I just supposed to go along with your plans like a good little wife and not ask any questions? And please don’t tell me again that you want to move for the scenery or the weather. I would rather you flat out tell me it’s none of my business than to brush me off with nonsense.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t lying to you. All my reasons for wanting to move are valid ones. And I do think it would be good for the two of us to get away from my—my parents. I would think you’d be the first to agree with that, since you’ve always resented how prominent a role they’ve played in our marriage.”

  She hadn’t missed his slight verbal stumble. “What did your mother tell you yesterday, Jackson?”

  The length of his hesitation made her wonder if he really was going to tell her it was none of her business. She braced herself for the words, achingly aware that their marriage would be over if he said them.

  Maybe the same thought occurred to him. Clearing his throat, he muttered, “She told me that she and Carl have been lying to me my entire life. And it took almost losing our son for them—for my mother—to finally get up the courage to tell me the truth.”

  Thirteen

  “How have your parents been lying to you, Jackson?”

  Even as she asked, Laurel still thought it likely that he had just found out he’d been adopted. His reaction seemed a bit extreme, but maybe it was perfectly normal, especially for a man who had always been so close to his parents. She was hardly an expert on how it would feel to be suddenly estranged from her parents, since she had never been particularly close to hers in the first place.

  Losing her mother had been a sad experience for her, but mostly because the accident had put an end to any girlhood fantasies Laurel might have harbored of eventually forging a close relationship with Janice. Perhaps as friends, if not a more traditional mother–daughter bond.

  Still with that odd lack of expression in his voice, Jackson announced, “Carl Reiss is not my biological father.”

  For a moment, she thought he had just confirmed her suspicions. But then she realized exactly what he had said. Carl was not his father. “But Donna is your mother?”

  “Yeah. Turns out I was the product of a long-time affair between her and an older, married man. She planned to use her pregnancy to force him to leave his wife and kids and marry her, but the scheme backfired when he refused to acknowledge paternity. She married my— She married Carl because she needed someone to take care of her and support her when her lover bailed on her.”

  Laurel was stunned, as much by the way Jackson had told the story as by the facts he had revealed. He’d made Donna sound like a cold-blooded gold digger. For all of Laurel’s criticisms of Donna’s annoying quirks, that was a far different image than she had ever had of Jackson’s mother.

  “She must have been very young,” she offered tentatively, quickly doing the math. Twenty-one. Very young for some people, though Laurel had been on her own for years by that age.r />
  “I think she knew what she was doing. From what she told me, she had her eyes on the guy’s bank account from the start.”

  “Well, obviously she’s changed in the past thirty-one years. Donna likes nice things, but she hardly lives a lavish lifestyle. She brags about being a bargain shopper, for heaven’s sake. You’ve said yourself that she can stretch a penny as if it were made of rubber.”

  He had held that up as another one of his mother’s many virtues, actually, boasting about how content she had always been with her husband’s comfortable, working-class income. Usually that observation came in the middle of one of his complaints about Laurel’s work obligations.

  “So she settled for a man with less money,” Jackson muttered with a shrug. “But she never had to work and never lacked for anything she really wanted, so I guess she figures she made out okay, after all.”

  “I don’t think she would agree that she merely settled. She’s always seemed very happy to me.”

  “Yeah, well, you can’t always tell with her, can you?”

  There was still anger beneath the sarcasm, and pain. All of which she understood. Jackson had a right to be angry that he’d been deceived for so long—as long as he kept his anger in perspective and didn’t do anything he would regret. Like packing up and moving to Texas, she added wryly.

  The one person he hadn’t really discussed yet was Carl. Laurel suspected that was the deepest cut of all, as far as Jackson was concerned. He quite simply adored Carl Reiss. He had spent his entire life trying to learn from him, to be like him. How many times had she heard him laughingly proclaim himself to be just like his dad? He’d even commented a time or two that he thought Tyler had Carl’s eyes.

  Now his world had shifted. His way of looking at Carl, his image of himself as Carl’s son, even his perception of his own son as the youngest in a long line of Reiss men—all of that had changed.