by Janice Lynn
Trace’s insides wrenched. How many times had Joss said that earlier in the day? Too many. He’d been so determined to prove that he could take care of his son by himself and all he’d done was prove the complete opposite. He’d been wrong to take Joss to the train station, to go around Chrissie’s wishes. So very wrong.
“Yes, baby. You had surgery on your belly. It’s going to hurt for a while, but then it’ll be all better,” she promised.
Joss’s eyes closed back.
“How’s he doing?” Dr. Rodriguez asked, coming into the recovery area. “My partner did his operation, but he’s caught me up on the details.”
“Still trying to wake up,” Chrissie told him. “But you just missed him opening his eyes.”
“Poor thing,” the surgeon commiserated. “He’s going to hurt when he wakes up.”
“Yeah, he said his belly was hurting when he opened his eyes a minute ago,” Chrissie empathized, stroking her fingertip over Joss’s hand.
“Tough little guy—he had to be in a lot of pain prior to the rupture.”
Yeah, he had been but his obtuse father had thought he just didn’t want to spend the day with him and had been determined he was going to anyway.
Trace shook his head. How could he have been so stupid? So blind? So selfish?
His son could have died because of him.
Joss would have been better off if Chrissie hadn’t told Trace.
He was leaving in less than two weeks. He shouldn’t have come to Chattanooga. He would go back overseas where he could help others rather than interfere where he wasn’t wanted or needed.
* * *
“Where’s my daddy?”
At Joss’s question, Chrissie looked behind her to where Trace had been standing. The recovery room bay was now empty except for the nurse standing ten or so feet away at a computer where she was charting.
“Your daddy was here just a few minutes ago, baby,” she assured a droopy-eyed Joss. “He’s been very worried about you.”
She wasn’t sure where Trace had stepped away to, but was sure he’d be back soon.
Only he wasn’t.
Not that evening. Not that night. Not the next morning. Not the next evening or night.
Not the following day when Joss was released to go home.
Chrissie had called his cell phone, but it had repeatedly gone straight to voicemail. She’d left a dozen messages, but hadn’t heard back from him.
Not once.
A week ago, Joss had never met his father.
Now, he kept asking about where he was, obviously missed him, and Chrissie didn’t know what to tell him.
Was Trace coming back or had he left for good?
In just over a week, he’d be gone to Africa.
Anger built inside her that he’d just left without saying goodbye, without anything.
* * *
Joss had been home for two days, was doing great, and Chrissie had difficulty focusing on anything other than that Trace had come into their lives, made an impression on Joss, then just left without even telling him goodbye.
Yes, she’d been angry with him over taking Joss without her knowledge or permission, had lashed out at him, but to just disappear without saying goodbye to their son? How could he do that?
Had he already gone back overseas?
How dared he? How dared he come into her house and give them a glimpse of how things could have been had their situation been different, then just leave without a word?
How dared he think she’d just let him walk away without a backward glance?
Because she wouldn’t.
Not without giving him a piece of her mind.
Which was just as well as she’d already given him a piece of her heart.
* * *
Trace’s mother lifted her wineglass to her lips and took a more than generous sip. “How is it best for a child not to know his grandparents?”
Trace grimaced. He’d hated telling his parents about Joss for fear they’d contact Chrissie, but he’d not wanted to put Bud and Agnes in the awkward position of knowing his parents had a grandchild they knew nothing about. They’d looked pretty pleased right up until he’d asked them to stay away from Chrissie and Joss.
“It just is,” he finally said, taking a sip of his drink. He didn’t expect his parents to understand, just prayed they’d respect his wishes.
“Do you really think we’re such horrible parents, Trace? After all, we raised you and I’ve always believed you turned out okay.”
“You thought wrong,” he corrected his mother.
“Hogwash,” Agnes spoke up from across the table from Trace. “You’re seriously going back overseas because Joss had a bout of appendicitis?”
“I was already scheduled to go back overseas, and he didn’t just have a bout of appendicitis. He almost died.”
“Because of something that was completely beyond your control,” Agnes told him.
“I should have known something more was going on with him.”
Just as he should have known something more was going on with Kerry the day she died.
“Really? Because a three-year-old conveys what’s going on inside him that well?” Agnes challenged.
Trace let out a long sigh. Agnes and Bud loved him. As much as he didn’t agree with them on most accounts, his parents loved him, too. He wasn’t going to win this battle.
“All I’m asking is that you don’t interfere in Chrissie and Joss’s life. Nothing beyond that, especially not these accolades of why I’m not at fault that Joss almost died. I know what I did.”
What he’d done was be so caught up in what he wanted, in wanting to make his son love him and want to spend time with him, that he’d almost let him die.
Chrissie had been right not to trust him with Joss’s care.
Bud and Agnes shouldn’t have trusted him to sit with Kerry that day.
Agnes’s phone rang and, glancing at the number, she excused herself and left the table to take the call.
“Trace, I think you’re making a mistake stepping away from your son,” his father said from the head of the table.
“It’s my mistake to make.” The mistake had been going to Chrissie’s and meeting Joss in the first place.
“That boy is the heir to my fortune,” Trace’s father spoke up as if that was the perfect argument.
“Chrissie doesn’t want your fortune. She just wants Joss and he’s better off with her.”
“Son, I try to stay out of matters that aren’t really my business, but I agree with your dad on this,” Bud interjected. “You need to be a part of the boy’s life.”
“That isn’t an option.” His being a part of Joss’s life had almost cost Joss’s life. “I’m leaving and won’t be back in the States for at least six months.”
“Staying is an option. You just have to choose not to go.” This came from Trace’s father again.
Trace’s mother took another sip of her wine. “We want you to stay. We’ve always wanted you to stay. You know that.”
Trace wondered why he’d put himself through this torture. Why had he agreed to dinner with his parents and Bud and Agnes?
Because other than the two people he’d left behind in Chattanooga, these four were the most important people in his life.
Because they loved him.
Just as he loved them.
Only...only he’d shut them out since Kerry had died. All of them to some degree. But mostly his parents.
Because Kerry dying had hurt and no matter how much money his father threw at him afterward, nothing could bring her back. After a while he’d started feeling suffocated by everyone’s attempts to make his life better and he’d left for medical school, so no one else would die on
his watch, and then he’d opted to join DAW.
Because he’d needed space between him and those he loved. Why? Had he been afraid to feel?
Was he still afraid to feel?
“Trace?” Agnes said, coming back into the room, her expression grim. “That was Chrissie. Joss needs you in Chattanooga.”
“What?” He rose from the table, Agnes’s worried expression immediately putting him on alert.
“Joss needs you. Now. Apparently he has some rare blood type and...” Agnes’s voice trailed off.
That Agnes wouldn’t meet his eyes escalated Trace’s fear.
He’d been in touch with Joss’s doctor every day. The man had his cell number and instructions to call if there were any changes. Joss had been doing well, had been home for a couple of days. What had happened?
He should call Chrissie. If Joss needed him, his blood, he had to go.
Trace’s father stood. “I’ll have the helicopter here in fifteen minutes and arrange for a car to meet you in Chattanooga.”
“I... Yes, that would be best.” He needed to get there as quickly as possible.
Not that they’d let him donate again this quickly. In which case...
“Actually—” he turned to his father, who shared his rare blood type “—can you go with me?”
His dad gave him a startled look. “Me? You want me to go?”
“I may need you there. Joss may need you.”
“Then let’s go.”
* * *
Chrissie’s phone buzzed.
“He’s on his way.”
“Wow.” She hadn’t been sure Agnes could pull off getting Trace to come back to Chattanooga to talk, but Agnes had assured her he would. When she’d called Trace’s godmother she’d just been going after an address and to make sure Trace was still in Atlanta.
“His dad is with him,” Agnes continued.
“His dad? Why is Trace’s dad coming with him?”
“Long story.” Agnes gave a little laugh. “Trace may have misunderstood something I said and thought Joss needed another blood transfusion.”
“What?” Then why Trace was headed to Chattanooga clicked. “Agnes, when you said you’d make sure he came back, I didn’t realize you were going to deceive him.” Chrissie’s heart sank. “I don’t feel good about that. I’ve deceived him too much already.”
“I didn’t say Joss needed a blood transfusion. Besides, that boy’s pride didn’t need to get in his way.”
That boy was a handsome grown man who Chrissie was angry at and yet...
“Oh, Agnes, he’s coming because he’s worried about Joss.”
Which meant he wasn’t coming for her, but for their son.
Which was okay.
If she had to choose, wasn’t that what she’d pick? For Trace to be concerned about his son? For him to be there if Joss needed him? Obviously if he was on his way, he would be there for Joss.
Trace was on his way!
“You have to let him know Joss isn’t in any danger. He’s recovering wonderfully.” She didn’t want Trace worrying. She could only imagine the horror he must be experiencing.
“He’ll be at your house any moment and you can tell him then.”
“Any moment?” She’d thought she’d have a couple of hours to mentally prepare what she wanted to say.
“They took his dad’s helicopter.”
“His dad has a helicopter?”
Agnes laughed. “Oh, honey, you really have no clue, do you?”
Chrissie tried not to be insulted but wasn’t sure she succeeded. “What am I supposed to say to him?”
“Now, that’s something only you know. I’d guess a good place to start would be why you called me to get his information.”
“If he’s worried that Joss needs a blood transfusion, wouldn’t he go to the hospital instead of here?”
Agnes laughed again. “You underestimate me. The car meeting them in Chattanooga knows where to bring them.”
Them. As in Trace and his father.
“Agnes, Trace and I can’t talk with his father with us.”
“I know that, but you also need someone to watch Joss.”
“Trace’s dad is going to watch Joss? Isn’t he like some kind of uptight businessman?”
“That’s how some see him.”
“But not you?”
“Not ever. He’s a good man who is excited at the prospect of meeting his grandson.”
“I just got Joss to bed, Agnes. He’s still recovering.”
“Fine. I’ll call and let Randolph know he’s to leave with the car.”
Chrissie responded to Agnes, said goodbye to the woman, but couldn’t have repeated what she’d said. Her mind was racing.
Trace was going to be there any moment.
What was she going to say to him?
The truth? That she and Joss had missed him? That they wanted him in their lives? That she was sorry for the things she’d said, done? That she knew Joss’s appendicitis wasn’t his fault?
That she’d attacked him because of her own inner beast that had worried he’d kidnapped their son?
He hadn’t. He’d only wanted to love Joss, to get their son to open up to him and love him back.
Would he think her crazy? Selfish, perhaps, if they kept him from leaving to serve the world’s poor, sick and injured?
Maybe she was selfish but she didn’t want him to go back overseas. She wanted him here. With her. With Joss.
A car pulled in her drive and she went to the front door, not wanting Trace to knock in case it woke Joss. They needed to talk without their son overhearing.
She watched him get out of an expensive-looking black sedan, lean back down to say something to whomever still sat in the backseat. His father, she supposed. Looking confused, Trace closed the car door and headed toward the house. When the car pulled away, he paused, frowned, then met her gaze.
What if he was angry Agnes had sent him on false pretenses? How much did it even cost to have a helicopter bring you?
“Chrissie,” he said, stepping onto the porch.
“Joss is fine,” she blurted out.
Looking a bit dazed, he flexed his jaw. “That’s what my father told me right before we pulled into your driveway.”
She nodded. “Agnes said she was going to call him.”
“You lied to her?”
“No,” she quickly denied. “I called for your address, to make sure you hadn’t left yet. Nothing more. She said she’d have you come to me. I assumed she’d talk you into it.”
“He doesn’t need to be dragged around so soon after his surgery.”
“He’s doing great. Played almost normal today.”
He glanced past her into the house. “Where is he?”
“Asleep. He was tired, so I bathed him and put him to bed about twenty minutes ago.”
“Can I see him?”
“Of course.” The night he’d shown up at her house, insisting to see Joss, flashed through her mind. “He’s missed you, Trace. So much.”
His eyes cut to her. “Don’t say that.”
“Why?”
His jaw clenched. “Because it’s not true.”
“It is true. He’s asked about you repeatedly. He wants to know where you are.”
* * *
Trace took a deep breath. “What’d you tell him?”
“That you had to go home to Atlanta.”
Trace nodded. He had had to go to Atlanta. Or so he’d told himself. Mainly, he’d had to get away because he’d felt such guilt over Joss. Like such a failure to his son.
“I’ve missed you, too.”
Chrissie’s words cut into his thoughts.
“Why?”
She gave a trembling smile. “Why not?”
It wasn’t much of an answer, but she stepped aside and motioned for him to enter her house. He did so before she changed her mind. Before he changed his mind and took off after his father’s hired car.
“You can go to his room if you want.”
Her voice was wobbly and Trace found himself turning to look at her instead.
“I leave next week.”
She nodded as if she understood, but he wasn’t sure she did. Still, he needed to see Joss, to reassure himself that he was okay. Since Agnes’s dramatic implication, he’d had a sick feeling in his stomach and he needed to see Joss to convince himself that he really was okay.
His nightlight illuminating his precious face, Joss slept on his car bed, snuggled up in his covers, and looking at peace with the world.
Just seeing him wasn’t enough.
Trace went to the bed, sat on the edge, and touched Joss’s face, brushing his finger over his soft cheek.
The little boy’s eyes opened and Trace felt guilt for waking him.
“Daddy?”
His heart squeezed.
“I’m here, Joss.” He touched Joss’s fingers, then held his hand in his.
“Where did you go?”
“Atlanta.”
“That’s where Mommy said you went.” Joss yawned, scooted up in the bed. “Can I go to Atlanta with you, too?”
Trace’s heart swelled to the point he thought it might explode. But then he recalled that he’d almost let this child, his son, die.
That he’d been the last person with Kerry before she’d gotten so sick and died.
That he was leaving and would be gone for months.
“I’d never take you away from your mommy, Joss. She would miss you.”
“We could bring her, too.” Another big yawn, then he settled back onto his pillow. “She’d like Atlanta.”
Trace wasn’t so sure about that.
“I’m sorry I got sick.”
“You couldn’t help getting sick, Joss. I know that.”
“You went away.”
His words gutted Trace. Was that what he had thought?
“Not because you’d been sick,” he assured. “Never that.”
Only, was that true? Or had memories of Kerry and guilt played into his having left?
