The Secret Heir

by Gina Wilkins

  “Your dad is worried about you,” she said, choosing her words deliberately. “He wants you to talk to him.”

  “Where was he yesterday, when Mom told me the truth?”

  “He thought it best for her to be the one to tell you. And maybe he was worried about how you would react. You know how much he loves you, Jackson. He’s probably scared half to death about the way you feel about him now.”

  Jackson looked down at his hands, and Laurel suspected that he didn’t know the answer to that himself.

  “You know you still love Carl, and that he loves you,” she said by way of reminder. “You’re angry with him right now, and that’s only natural, but it will get better.”

  She didn’t know whether to interpret his grunt as agreement with her words or the opposite, but she could tell he wasn’t feeling any better. She searched her mind for something, anything, to say to help him through this.

  The telephone rang before she came up with anything. She moved to answer it, but Jackson detained her by laying a hand on her leg. “Let the machine get it.”

  She looked at him in question. “It could be important.”

  “You know it’s probably my mother. I’m not ready to talk to her yet.”

  “It could be your dad.”

  A muscle twitched in his jaw. “I don’t want to talk to anyone right now.”

  She nodded. The call could be for her, of course, but Jackson was probably right about the caller’s identity. And she didn’t really want to talk to Donna, either. For one thing, she wouldn’t know how to answer if either Donna or Carl asked how Jackson was doing.

  Getting him to talk about this was like pulling teeth, but she decided to keep prodding him. Maybe if he could just express his feelings, it would ease some of his pain. “Did your mother tell you anything else?”

  Jackson reached up to rub his right temple, as if to soothe an ache there. “Yeah. She told me the name of my biological father. Apparently she’s been in touch with him and confirmed that Tyler’s heart condition did come from his genes.”

  Which only gave Jackson another reason to resent the man, Laurel thought sympathetically. “Is it anyone you know?”

  “Not personally. I’ve heard the name. I’m sure you have, too. According to my mother, her rich boyfriend was Jack Crosby.”

  That made her eyes widen. “Well, of course I’ve heard of Jack Crosby.”

  “Jack.” His upper lip curled as he said the name. “My mother must have thought it was very clever of her to name me after him.”

  Laurel winced. “I’m sure she had her reasons.”

  “Yeah. She told me she was still mad enough when I was born to name me that as a dig at Crosby. Heck of a reason to choose a name for your son, isn’t it?” He shook his head in disgust.

  It did seem like a rather cold thing to do, especially when another man had volunteered to be a father to her boy. “She was young,” she said lamely, having no other excuse for Donna.

  “Quit saying that, okay? She was old enough to try to bust up a family and then to find someone else to support her. She knew what she was doing.”

  She started to try again to defend his mother, maybe to remind him that everyone made mistakes—some worse than others, of course—but she decided to wait until he’d cooled down a bit more. Though he had a temper, Jackson was ultimately a reasonable man to whom family meant everything. He would come around eventually.

  “Apparently now he wants to meet me.”

  She followed the shift of topic with an effort. “Jack Crosby, you mean?”

  He nodded.

  “How do you feel about that?”

  “Uninterested,” he answered succinctly.

  “He has several other grown children, doesn’t he? Three or four, I think. They’re your half-siblings, Jackson.”

  “They’re strangers. The fact that we share some DNA doesn’t make us family.”

  “No, but—”

  “I doubt that they’d be any more interested in meeting me. How do you think it would make them feel to find out that their father was screwing around with a waitress while he was married to their mother? Not to mention they would probably assume I’d make a claim for part of their inheritance.”

  Laurel hadn’t even thought of that. Jack Crosby was a multimillionaire. For that matter, Jackson probably did have a legal claim to an inheritance, even though she knew her stubbornly proud husband would reject the very suggestion. “It’s up to you whether you meet Jack Crosby, of course. But maybe it isn’t such a bad idea. Maybe you can resolve all this easier in your mind if you meet everyone involved.”

  He shot her a heated glare. “Suddenly you want to get involved with your in-laws? I guess a few million dollars makes the idea a bit more appealing, huh?”

  He had spoken rashly, probably lashing out more at her suggestion than at her personally. But it still hurt. Badly.

  She rose stiffly, wrapping her arms around her middle. “That was unfair. You’re angry with your parents, and I can understand that. But I will not allow you to take that anger out on me. Not when I’m only trying to help you.”

  “Look, I’m sorry. I just—I really don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

  “Fine.” She turned toward the doorway. “I’ll go check on Tyler.”

  Okay, maybe he hadn’t handled that very well.

  Jackson sighed deeply. He might as well be honest. He’d botched the conversation with Laurel big-time.

  He shouldn’t have sprung the Texas suggestion on her so abruptly. It was just that it seemed like a good idea at the time. Still did, for that matter. He’d thought Laurel would be more intrigued by the idea of moving so far away from his parents.

  He’d put off telling her about his parentage as long as he could. It hadn’t been something he’d looked forward to. He had told himself that he would be cool and dispassionate when he told her. That he would let none of his tumultuous emotions show in either his voice or his expression. He wanted her to know that he was a strong, mature adult who could handle whatever came at him. Just like his—

  Like Carl, he thought with the hollow ache that had been inside him ever since he had left his mother’s house the day before.

  It was bad enough that he had learned things about his mother that had completely shaken his image of the woman he had thought he knew so well. But to find out that Carl wasn’t really his father… Well, that had been almost too much to bear.

  He buried his face in his hands. He wished he hadn’t lashed out at Laurel when she’d suggested that he might want to meet Jack Crosby. He shouldn’t have practically accused her of being a gold digger.

  Just because his mother had once coveted Crosby’s money didn’t mean Laurel felt the same way. He didn’t blame Laurel for being angry, especially since they’d been struggling for so long to learn to communicate.

  If he kept going like this, he was going to end up completely alone. For a man who had taken such pride in his family only a couple of weeks earlier, that was hard even to contemplate.

  To say that Laurel was having a difficult day would have been a massive understatement. Tyler woke up from his nap sore and cranky, maybe sensing the undercurrents of tension in his home. Jackson brooded in a corner of the den, pretending to watch golf on TV—and he didn’t even like golf. He made an occasional effort to pay attention to his son, but Tyler was in a mood to whine and cling to his mommy.

  Torn between them, feeling as if they both needed something from her she didn’t know how to offer, Laurel went about her usual household chores as best as she could with Tyler practically clinging to her legs. It was all she knew to do to make everything appear normal and reassuring for Tyler, when everything was so obviously not normal.

  She served an early dinner that no one ate. Passed out cookies that were nibbled then abandoned. Started conversations with Jackson that quickly fizzled into silence. Tried playing games that didn’t hold Tyler’s interest.

  At her wit’s end, she
finally gave Tyler some pain relievers for his discomfort, then settled into a rocking chair with him and his stuffed penguin in her lap. Three choruses of “You Are My Sunshine” later, he was sound asleep.

  “Is he okay?” Jackson leaned against the doorway of Tyler’s room, watching her gently rock their child. She didn’t know how long he had been there, since he’d made no sound until he spoke.

  Though she was still annoyed with him over that crack about her supposed interest in his biological father’s money, she tried to keep her quiet tone cordial. “His incision is bothering him some. And he still tires too easily. I was warned to expect those things, but he gets stronger every day.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  She shook her head. “I was just about to put him to bed. I think he’s out for the night.”

  Jackson glanced at his watch. “It’s barely eight o’clock.”

  “His usual bedtime is eight-thirty,” she reminded him. She supposed he’d forgotten since he was so rarely home before nine. “He needs about ten hours of sleep a night at this stage.”

  “Here.” He moved away from the doorway. “Let me carry him to the bed for you.”

  Tyler barely stirred during the transfer from Laurel’s arms to Jackson’s. “Daddy?” he mumbled without opening his eyes.

  “Just putting you into bed, sport.”

  “’Kay.”

  Jackson was smiling a little when he bent to deposit the boy onto his pillows. It was the first time Laurel had seen him smile all day.

  She moved to the other side of the bed to tuck Tyler in, settling Angus into the crook of his arm. “Good night, sweetie,” she whispered, kissing his soft cheek.

  His eyes still closed, Tyler breathed, “Night, Mommy.”

  He was asleep again before she straightened up.

  She and Jackson both stood for several long minutes on opposite sides of the bed, gazing down at their son. And then their eyes lifted, and they stared, instead, at each other.

  “He’s still the best part of me,” Jackson murmured.

  “The best part of us both.”

  “Someday I’ll have to tell him the truth about his heritage.”

  She nodded. “Yes. He’ll need to know his complete medical history.”

  Jackson pushed a hand through his hair. Though he still spoke very quietly, there was a great deal of emotion roiling in his voice when he said, “I was always so proud to be a Reiss. I wanted Tyler to share that pride.”

  She swallowed around a hard lump in her throat. “He will. He does. You’re still Carl Reiss’s son, and this is his grandson. That hasn’t changed.”

  “Hasn’t it?” He looked away from her. “I need to go by the office to pick up some paperwork for tomorrow. I won’t be gone long.”

  He was running again. From her this time, probably because he was afraid she saw too well what he was going through.

  She was sure he told himself that he just needed time to shore up his emotional barricades. To make sure he had all signs of vulnerability—which he would consider weakness—hidden.

  A real man dealt with his own problems, after all. Real men gave emotional support. They never asked for it for themselves. They shouldn’t need to, at least according to the teachings of strong and stoic Carl Reiss. The only father Jackson had ever known.

  “What should I say if your parents call?”

  “Just tell them…tell them I’ll talk to them later,” he said, moving toward the door.

  He paused just before he stepped out of the room. “Laurel?”

  “Yes?”

  “About what I said earlier… I’m sorry. It was a stupid remark, and I know it wasn’t true. It’s long past time for me to stop trying to compare you to my mother. It won’t happen again.”

  Laurel sighed as she watched him leave without giving her a chance to respond. She hadn’t expected the apology, though she deserved it. She certainly hadn’t expected him to admit that he had unfairly compared her to his mother, and on more than this one occasion.

  Thinking about the things he had said, and the look on his face when he had spoken, she returned to the rocker to watch her son sleep for a while longer.

  Carl didn’t call. He came by. Not half an hour after Jackson left, Carl showed up at the back door, as was his habit. “I didn’t think anyone would answer the phone if I called,” he admitted.

  “Come in.”

  He stepped past her, searching her face as he did so. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine. How is Donna?”

  “She’s a mess,” he answered flatly. “Is Jay here?”

  “No. He went to his office for a little while. He was getting too restless sitting here thinking.”

  Carl nodded his understanding. “I never can just sit around the house much, either. I’ve been trying to stay with Donna this weekend, but I just have to get out every once in a while. That’s why I came over here, to see if everything’s okay.”

  “Want some coffee?”

  “No, thanks. I think I’ve already had a couple of pots today.”

  “At least sit down.”

  He pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and sank into it. “I guess Jay’s told you everything by now.”

  “He gave me the abridged version, I think. But I know the basic facts.”

  “How’s Jay holding up?”

  She hesitated a moment before answering. And then she decided to be candid. “He’s hurting. He’s angry. He’s confused about who he is and how he feels about what he’s learned.”

  “He’s mad that we didn’t tell him earlier. I guess I don’t blame him about that. I always— Well…”

  “You wanted to tell him sooner?”

  Carl looked torn for a moment between protecting his wife and being honest. “Donna just never thought the time was right. By the time Jay was old enough to understand, we’d settled into such a comfortable family routine that it seemed a shame to risk messing it up. He was such a good kid, didn’t get into much of that teen rebellion everyone worries about with their boys. She—we didn’t want to do anything that would make him turn against us.”

  “Surely you knew the truth would come out someday.”

  “Well, no. I guess we were being unrealistic, but we thought there was a good chance he would never have to know the whole story.”

  “I hope he can come to understand that you were doing what you thought best for him. It’s just— Well, you know Jackson. He hates being lied to.”

  Carl took offense at that. He lifted his chin, his sun-lined eyes narrowing more than usual. “As far as I’m concerned, I never lied to him. I married his mama before he was born. I was there at the hospital to welcome him when he came out. I held him in my arms when he wasn’t fifteen minutes old, and I told him then that I was his daddy, and that I would give my life for him if necessary. I meant every word of it.”

  Laurel and Carl had probably talked more in the last week than in the last four years. She had always respected him, but the better she got to know him, the fonder she became of him.

  Sure, he was part of the reason Jackson was so reluctant to show his feelings, and most of the gender-role beliefs Carl had passed on were downright archaic, but he was a good man. She believed without doubt that he loved his wife, son and grandson, and that he really would lay down his life for any one of them. She knew he could not have loved Jackson any more had his own blood run through Jackson’s veins.

  “I’ll talk to him some more, Carl,” she promised. And then amended, “Well, I’ll try. He isn’t an easy man to talk to, you know.”

  Carl blew out a short breath. “Guess he’s a lot like me in that respect.”

  “Yes,” she said gently, impulsively reaching out to lay her hand over his. “He’s just like his dad.”

  Carl’s throat worked, and for just a moment, she thought she saw a quick sheen of what might have been tears in his weathered eyes. He masked the emotions immediately, patting her hand and making an effort to sm
ile a little. “You’re a nice woman, Laurel. Good heart. Helping other people isn’t just your job, it’s your nature.”

  Now it was her time to blink back tears. Perhaps she was tired, or overstressed, but Carl’s words touched her to the very core. This was the type of approval she had once craved from her own father.

  Because he was still Carl, and still uncomfortable with expressing such emotions, he didn’t give her a chance to say anything. Rising abruptly, he pushed his chair back beneath the table. “I think I’d better go before Jay gets back. Tell him… Well, just tell him I dropped by, okay?”

  She knew there were many more things he wanted to say, but didn’t know how. “I’ll tell him.”

  He nodded, then let himself out.

  Gazing after him, Laurel told herself that Jackson was still very much like his dad—and no matter who his biological father was, his dad would always be Carl Reiss.

  Fourteen

  Jackson was home before ten. Laurel waited for him in the den, where she had been trying to read a mystery that would have held her attention at any other time. She closed the book and set it aside when he came in. “You missed your dad again.”

  “Came by kind of late, didn’t he?”

  “He’s worried about you.”

  Jackson shrugged and dropped into an armchair. “No need for him to be.”

  “Maybe you’d like to give him a call? I’m sure he hasn’t gone to bed yet.”

  “Not tonight. I’ll talk to him another time.”

  “You should talk to him soon, Jackson. He misses you.”

  “I said I will. Later.”

  “And your mother? She’s waiting to hear from you, too.”

  “Yeah. Later. So, have you given any more thought to me looking into that job in Texas? Because I was thinking I could take a few days off in a couple of weeks, when Tyler’s feeling better, and fly out there to talk to some people. If the job looks as good as Kelsey made it sound, we could start looking at houses and school districts there.”

  He must have read some of her thoughts in her expression. “This really isn’t as impulsive as it sounds,” he said, his tone defensive. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since Kelsey was here last month. The only reason I didn’t mention it before was that we were both so busy before Tyler’s surgery that we hardly had time to talk. Kelsey said he doesn’t work the crazy hours I do here. He’s pretty much eight to ten hours a day, rarely more than five days a week. You and Tyler and I would have more time together. Isn’t that what you’ve wanted?”