His Secret Son

by Brenda Jackson

  She fought back the tears that threatened to fill her eyes again as she said, “On that day, I began what was the happiest two years of my life. He told me that he wrote my mother but she refused to write him back. His letters were returned. She stopped all communication between them. When he returned to Dallas from Paris that first year for the holidays, he’d tried finding my mother but no one knew where she had moved to. Later on, he met someone else. He was still married to that woman when we met. They had two young sons. None of his sons were interested in art and he was glad that I was. We discovered we had quite a lot in common.”

  “Was he upset that your mom kept your existence from him?”

  “Yes, very much so. He saw that as wasted years. Years when I could have been spending time with him. We tried to do everything we could together during those two years because that was all we had.”

  A bemused look appeared on Laramie’s face. “Why was that?”

  She swallowed, feeling the lump in her throat. “Because, although I didn’t know it, my father was dying of cancer.”

  She drew in a deep breath as she held Laramie’s gaze. “So as you can see, my actions regarding you and my son were based on my own experiences with my dad. That’s why I wrote to you as soon as I found out I was pregnant. I didn’t want to make the same mistake my mother made. You had a right to know about him, even if you rejected him. It would have been your decision. Your loss.”

  He didn’t say anything for a minute. “I’m sorry about your father.”

  “Me, too. But we got to spend two years together. He made me feel so loved. So very special. He even asked me to change my last name to his, and I did. He also asked if I would come spend my last two years in high school with him in California. That meant leaving Aunt Dolly and I was torn about doing that, but she was fine with it and encouraged me to go. Although she never said, I think he confided in her and told her he didn’t have long to live.”

  “And nobody told you?”

  “No. Very few people knew about his condition. In his final days, I saw him getting weak and asked him about it, but he said he’d caught some kind of a virus. He only told me the truth during his last days. That’s when he told me what was wrong and if I ever needed anything to contact Colin Kusac, his close and trusted friend.” There was no need to tell him how much her father’s wife had resented her presence and how mean she’d been at the reading of her father’s will.

  “So you ended up in Paris to study like he had?”

  “Yes. He made that possible before he died. He wanted me to study at the same art academy.” She had worked at that café in Paris not because she had to, but because she had wanted to. Her father had taken care of her tuition as well as provided her with a generous monthly allowance. Then there had been the proceeds from her mother’s insurance policies. She had put all the money in a savings account. While growing up, her mother had taught her the importance of being independent and not wasteful.

  “I had a wonderful father. I just wish I’d had more time with him.”

  Laramie didn’t say anything for a moment, then he asked, “Do you resent your mother for standing in the way of that happening?”

  She drew in a deep breath. “Not now, but for years I did. She wanted to hurt my father by keeping my existence a secret from him. She knew him and had known he would have wanted to become a part of my life, but she never gave him that opportunity. In the end, she not only hurt him but she hurt me, as well. I could never do that to my child. That’s why I would never stand in the way of you developing a relationship with Laramie. I know the pain and heartbreak it could cause.”

  The only noise in the room was the sound of the logs crackling in the fireplace. “Thanks for sharing that with me, Bristol.”

  Telling him the story of her parents and her relationship with her father had drained her. Slowly standing to her feet, she said, “Now that we’ve gotten that cleared up, what time would you like to come meet Laramie tomorrow?”

  An anxious smile touched Laramie’s lips. “How soon can I come?”

  She chuckled. “Laramie is an early riser so I’m usually up preparing breakfast around eight. You’re welcome to join us if you like.”

  “I would love to.”

  She glanced at her watch. It was late. Almost midnight. “Do you want me to call you a cab?”

  “No, I should be able to get one on the corner.”

  “Okay.” She walked him to the door and watched as he put on his Stetson, while thinking how much more cowboy than SEAL he looked at that moment. “I’ll see you in the morning then.”

  “Yes. In the morning. Oh, by the way, does Laramie have a favorite toy?”

  She shook her head. “No. Like most kids his age he likes stuffed animals. He does have this thing for airplanes and he likes to color so he has a ton of coloring books. For his birthday one of Ms. Charlotte’s sons, who also has a two-year-old, gave Laramie an electronic tablet. I’m trying to teach him how to play educational games on it.”

  He nodded. “What kind of tablet is it?”

  Bristol told him the brand. Her heart missed several beats when Laramie stood in front of her, holding her gaze. As if to get her mind off what she was feeling, she thought of something. “It might get confusing with you and Laramie having the same first names. Can I start calling you Coop, or is that name restricted to just your team members?”

  “No, it’s not restricted so that’s no problem.”

  “Good.”

  He shoved his hands into his pockets. “If there’s a change of plans or if you need me for anything, you can contact me at the Marriott Hotel in Times Square. I’d like for you to have my personal number,” he said, pulling out his cell phone. “What’s yours so I can call you? That way you can have it.”

  She rattled off her phone number and when she heard her phone ringing in the purse she’d placed on the table earlier, she said, “I got it.”

  He nodded. “Now you have mine and I have yours.”

  She dismissed any significant meaning to that. He was merely providing her his number because of Laramie. “Good night, Laramie...Coop. I am so glad you are alive.”

  He smiled. “Me, too.”

  He stood there for a second, staring at her, before saying, “Good night, Bristol. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  He turned and quickly moved down the steps.

  * * *

  Laramie entered his hotel room, feeling a happiness he hadn’t felt in a long time. In addition to that, a rush of adrenaline was pumping furiously through his veins. What were the chances of the one woman he thought he would never see again, the one woman he thought about often, the one woman who’d helped him retain his sanity while being held hostage, would be here? In New York? And that he would run into her?

  Well, he hadn’t exactly run into her, but the circumstances surrounding their chance encounter still seemed unreal. And not only had he found out he had a son tonight, but he’d seen him. What a feeling! It was exhilarating, and he couldn’t wait to share it with the guys.

  He glanced at his watch. It was late. Almost midnight. But he knew Bane, Viper, Mac and Flipper would be up. However, Bane had triplets and Mac had four kids Laramie didn’t want to wake up. To be on the safe side, he would text the four to call him.

  Laramie also knew he needed to contact his commanding officer to let him know he would be taking his military leave after all. He wondered what would have happened had he not been in New York tonight. No telling when his and Bristol’s paths would have crossed, if ever. He’d already missed two years of his son’s life and he didn’t plan to miss any more.

  At some point he also needed to call his parents to let them know they were grandparents. He wondered how they would feel about that. They’d never hinted one way or the other if they wanted grandchildren. They hadn’t
ever nagged him about settling down or marrying.

  After sending the text off to the guys, he removed his jacket and hung it in the closet before the first call came in. He recognized the number as Bane’s. “You okay, Coop?” Bane asked with deep concern in his voice.

  “Yes, I’m fine. But I do have some news to share. Hold on, I hear another call coming in.”

  The others began calling and they connected to their conference number so they could all be on the phone at once. “Okay, Coop, what kind of news do you want to share with us?” Viper asked.

  “Don’t tell us the commander gave you another top secret job. Another cockatiel for you to deliver to some very important person?” Flipper teased.

  “Maybe it will be a dog this time,” Mac kidded. “Or maybe a pet monkey.”

  Laramie took their jokes in stride; nothing could put a damper on his mood. “I ran into Bristol Lockett here in New York.”

  “Bristol Lockett? That woman we couldn’t tear you away from in Paris three years ago?” Viper asked.

  “If I recall,” Bane said, “you went missing for three days because you were with her.”

  “And we couldn’t wipe that damn smile off your face for almost a month,” Mac interjected.

  “So how was the reunion?” Flipper asked. “She still look good?”

  “Yes, she’s the same woman, Viper. I didn’t know you were missing me so much during those three days, Bane. I don’t recall smiling for almost a month, Mac. If I did, I had a good reason for it. And yes, Flipper, she still looks good and the reunion was great once she recovered from fainting.”

  “Why did she faint?” Bane asked.

  Laramie settled down on the edge of the bed. “Bristol thought she was seeing a ghost. She’d assumed I was dead.”

  “Why would she assume that? Had she contacted your parents or something?” Viper asked.

  “No. I never gave her any information about my family.”

  “Then why would she assume you were dead? No agency had the authority to release that information. Our mission in Syria was a top secret, highly classified covert operation,” Mac said.

  “Bristol tried writing to me and the letter was returned. She knew someone who had a friend at the State Department who told her I’d gotten killed in Syria.”

  “Someone breached classified information?” Flipper asked.

  “The person who did it felt she needed to know. Like I said, she was trying to reach me.”

  “Why was she trying to reach you?” Viper asked.

  Laramie paused before saying, “She wanted to let me know she’d gotten pregnant.”

  Everyone got quiet and Laramie knew why. They were trying to digest what he’d said. A smile touched his lips when he added, “Yes, what you’re thinking is right. I have a child. A two-year-old son.”

  Nine

  “Hungry, Mommy.”

  Standing at the stove while preparing breakfast, Bristol couldn’t help but smile. Each morning her son woke up in a good mood. Hungry, but good. It didn’t matter that he usually had a bedtime snack. He evidently slept that off every night.

  “Mommy is almost done, Laramie. Please color me a picture.”

  “Okay.”

  She’d discovered early that Laramie liked marking up things, preferably with his crayon. When her walls became a target, she’d purchased him a coloring book. Now it was the norm for him to color her a picture in the book while he waited for breakfast. And since he was home with her every day, she used any free time she had to teach him things. He already knew his primary colors, how to count to ten and since she knew fluent French, she made that his second language by identifying things in both English and French. So far he was mastering both.

  She had just finished cooking the eggs when the doorbell rang. Laramie ceased his chatter long enough to say, “Door, Mommy.”

  Wiping her hands on a kitchen towel, she turned and said, “Yes, I heard it.” And from the way her heart was pounding in her chest, she knew who it was. Laramie... Coop. “I’ll be back in a minute, sweetie.”

  Refusing to acknowledge the fact that she’d taken extra care with her looks this morning, she headed for the door. Coop was here to see Laramie and not her.

  Before opening the door, she looked through the peephole. There was no way on earth she could dismiss just how incredibly handsome her son’s father was. With his striking masculine looks she found it hard to believe some woman hadn’t snatched him up by now. He’d said he wasn’t married, but he didn’t say whether or not there was a special woman in his life. She tried to push the thought out of her mind; it wasn’t any of her business.

  Their only connection, the only reason he was standing on her doorstep a little after eight in the morning, was Laramie. And from the looks of it, he was bearing gifts. She had a feeling her son would be getting an early visit from Santa.

  Inhaling deeply, she opened the door. “Good morning, Coop.”

  * * *

  Bristol looked even more beautiful in the daylight. Today her dark brown hair was flowing down her shoulders. And although she wasn’t wearing lipstick, she’d put something on her lips to make them shine. Another thing different from last night was her outfit. Today she was wearing a pair of jeans and a pullover sweater. Was it a coincidence or had she remembered him once telling her that red was his favorite color?

  The color really didn’t matter because the woman standing in the doorway was too stunningly beautiful for words. He drew in a deep breath and pulled in her scent. She was wearing the same perfume from three years ago, from last night. He tried to keep memories of their holiday fling at bay so he could focus on their son. But then how could he, when the result of that fling was why he was here?

  He recalled Mac’s lecture. Mac, being the oldest of the group and the one who’d been married the longest, had given him advice last night. If Laramie’s only interest in Bristol was his son, then he needed to make that point clear up front. Mac had known a lot of men who hadn’t. Because of that, the women in those relationships assumed romance and the baby were a package deal.

  As he tried to regain control of his senses, it occurred to Coop that while he’d been checking Bristol out, she’d been doing the same with him. He cleared his throat. “Good morning, Bristol. I hope I’m not too early.”

  “No, your timing is fine,” she said, stepping aside to let him in. “I just finished cooking breakfast. I hope you’re hungry.”

  Boy, was he ever, and it had nothing to do with food. The moment she’d opened the door, he’d felt it. The sizzle of attraction had been bad enough outside, but now, within the cozy confines of her home, it was stronger than ever. Did she feel it, too?

  “Yes, I’m hungry.”

  He couldn’t recall ever being swept away by a woman except for once in his life. And she had been that woman.

  “Good, because I’ve made plenty. Laramie is up and as usual for this time of morning, he’s in a good mood.”

  “Is he ever in a bad mood?” he asked, placing the gift-wrapped packages on her sofa.

  She smiled and he wished that smile didn’t cause a stirring in his gut. “Yes, whenever he’s sleepy and tries like the dickens to fight it. That’s when he becomes cranky.” She took in the numerous gifts he’d brought. “Looks like you went shopping.”

  He smiled. “I did. I was there when the gift shop at the hotel opened. I plan to do more shopping later today. It’s hard to believe Christmas is in less than two weeks.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  They reached the kitchen and Coop stopped dead in his tracks. The little boy sitting at the table staring at him was a miniature of himself. The emotions he’d felt when he’d seen his son last night came back to hit him tenfold. Ms. Charlotte and Bristol were right. His son resembled him so much it was uncanny.
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  They shared the same skin tone, eye color and shape of nose, lips and ears. And then there was that mop of thick curly hair. Although Coop wore his hair cut low now due to military regulations, for years he’d worn it long, even during his teen years. His parents hadn’t had a problem with it as long as he kept it looking neat. And he could tell, even though his son was sitting down, that he was taller than most two-year-olds. But then Cooper men were tall. He was six foot two and so was his father. His grandfathers on both sides had been six foot three.

  “Who’s that?” Laramie asked his mother loudly, pointing at Coop.

  “It’s not nice to point, Laramie.” The little boy put his finger down but kept an I-am-sizing-you-up look on his little face.

  “Laramie, this is your daddy. Can you say Daddy?”

  “Daddy?” his son asked his mother, as if for clarification.

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  The little boy nodded, looked back over at Coop and said, “Daddy.”

  Coop’s heart missed a beat at hearing his son call him that for the first time. He watched as Laramie began waving his hand, and then said, “Hi, Daddy.”

  Coop waved back. “Hi, Laramie.”

  And then as if Coop was being dismissed, Laramie picked up a crayon and began coloring in the book in front of him.

  “You can go ahead and sit down, Coop.”

  Laramie snatched his head back up and scrunched up his face and said, “He Daddy, Mommy. Not Coop.”

  Bristol smiled. “You, and only you, can call him Daddy. I can call him Coop. You call him Daddy. Understand?”

  Laramie nodded his head up and down. “Yes, Mommy.”

  Then to explain further she said, “I can also call him Laramie.”

  Laramie’s face scrunched up again. “But that’s me.”

  “Yes, but his name is Laramie, too.”

  Laramie then looked at his daddy. “You got my name?” he asked.