A Mother's Love

by Dawn Stewardson

Maybe, instead of phoning, he’d have a lawyer get in touch because he’d decided that he wouldn’t let her see any more of her son unless a judge forced him to.

  Or he might simply vanish with Robbie. Then she’d have to start searching all over again.

  Closing her eyes, she reminded herself that Rodger Spicer’s report hadn’t painted Hank as the sort of man who’d run. He was the type who’d stand and fight.

  She only hoped he wasn’t going to fight her.

  It would be so much better for Robbie if they didn’t end up battling over him. Yet, if that was the route Hank decided to take...

  Well, if her alternatives were to start legal proceedings or forget about ever seeing her child again, there’d be only one real choice—no option at all. She was just afraid she might not have enough emotional reserve left to carry her much further.

  She’d been running on empty ever since that day in the orphanage. And now that she’d finally found her son, now that she’d seen him...

  She told herself to calm down. Whatever happened, she’d cope. The way she’d been doing for what seemed like forever.

  As she glanced at the silent phone once more it suddenly rang. Her heart slammed against her ribs, then began to race.

  Her throat dry, she answered.

  “It’s Hank,” he said.

  “Yes. Hi.”

  “I called the lab a while ago.”

  “Me, too.”

  Barely breathing, she waited for him to say something more, each second like an hour.

  “We’d better talk again,” he said at last.

  “Yes. Fine.”

  “Is it okay if I come there?”

  She desperately wanted to ask how he’d decided to play things, but all she said was, “Of course.”

  “Good. I’ll see you in ten.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  TELLING HERSELF THAT HANK would be here any second now, Natalie wandered into the bathroom and halfheartedly brushed her hair. It wasn’t even a little less wild after she finished than before she’d started.

  Wash-and-wear hair, her mother always used to call it, a kind way of saying it had a will of its own. An iron will. Over the years, she must have tried to tame it a hundred different ways—none of them successful.

  Eventually she’d given up, and now just left it long so she could at least tie it back out of the way when she was working.

  Hearing the crunch of tires on the gravel, she hurried to the window in time to see Hank getting out of his Jeep.

  He did not look pleased, but she could scarcely expect him to. Until she’d suddenly appeared, he’d been under the impression she was dead. And she’d bet he wished, with all his heart, she actually was.

  She headed over and opened the door, the thought that homicide detectives undoubtedly knew how to commit perfect murders sending a shiver down her spine.

  As he stepped inside and glanced around the room, her gaze followed his.

  The Whispering Winds wasn’t a dump, but it wasn’t luxurious, either. She didn’t know how long she’d be away from home, and her funds were nowhere near unlimited.

  Finding her son had taken almost all the money she’d inherited from her parents. And while working with American Physicians Abroad was emotionally rewarding, she didn’t earn anything like what doctors in the U.S. made.

  If she and Hank did end up fighting each other in court, she’d be hard-pressed to pay her legal fees.

  “It’s nice out,” he said at last. “Do you want to take a walk?”

  “Sure.”

  She grabbed a sweater from the closet, doing her best to appear nonchalant when she was feeling anything but. His expression hadn’t given her an inkling about what he was thinking, which left her still totally up in the air.

  The motel backed onto a stretch of green space that lent the air an earthy scent of spring, and the path they followed ran alongside a gurgling stream.

  Under most circumstances she’d find it a relaxing setting, but the longer they walked the more anxious she grew.

  “Spring’s my favorite season,” she finally said to break the silence.

  “Yeah?” Hank said, barely glancing at her.

  “I guess that’s one of the reasons I fell in love with Guatemala. It’s known as the land of eternal spring.”

  All that got her was a second “Yeah?” so she lapsed back into silence.

  They walked a little farther, then he said, “I saw a lawyer yesterday.”

  Her pulse skipped a beat. She wasn’t surprised that he had, but what advice had he gotten?

  “And?” she prompted when he didn’t continue.

  “She basically said what yours did—that we should try to work things out ourselves.”

  “Ah...good. I mean, I’m glad they agreed.”

  “Right. So...I guess we’d better talk about your seeing Robbie.”

  “Fine,” she murmured, afraid that if she said even one more word he’d start having second thoughts.

  “There’ll have to be some ground rules.”

  She nodded.

  “First off, I’ll be there whenever you’re with him.”

  “That’s fine,” she said, not hesitating for a second. She’d agree to just about anything when he was going along with this.

  “Good. Then...well, I guess we could start with your coming back to the house once we finish talking. If you’d like, I mean.”

  “That would be great,” she said, still trying for nonchalance although she felt like doing cartwheels in the grass.

  “But this is my last day off,” he continued. “I’m back at work tomorrow, and I’ll be on the midnight-to-eight shift for the next ten days, which means I don’t get home till after nine—later if we’re in the middle of something at the end of the shift. So, by the time I’ve slept...well, the earliest you’ll be able to see Robbie will be around four or five.”

  “Hank, I’ll fit in with whatever works for you. I realize how difficult you must find this. And I knew that even if you decided to let me see Robbie, you wouldn’t want me constantly hanging around. So I was thinking I’d see if the hospital in Madison wants a volunteer.

  “I wouldn’t be able to do hands-on work with patients. I’m not licensed to practice in New Jersey. But if there’s anything else they could use me for...”

  “I’m sure there’ll be something. I keep hearing how short-staffed they are.”

  “Good. I’d hate to just sit around in the motel.”

  She hesitated then, not really wanting to mention the present, in case he thought she was resorting to bribery, yet knowing she’d better.

  Finally she said, “When I was in Englewood I got something for Robbie. A fire engine. Is it okay if I bring it along today?”

  “Sure,” he said, almost making her smile with relief. “He’ll love it. Anything with wheels.”

  “Right. I kind of figured that after seeing all his cars and trucks.”

  She told herself to stop there. Being nervous often made her talk too much. And, sure enough, the next instant she heard herself saying, “I guess it was silly, but once I’d bought it I started thinking I shouldn’t have. That it might jinx things and you’d tell me I couldn’t see him. So the fact that you’re letting me... Well, it really does mean a lot.”

  He eyed her for a moment before saying, “Look, Natalie, don’t read too much into it, okay? If my lawyer hadn’t advised me to try compromising with you, I’m not sure I would be. Because regardless of what arrangement we work out, assuming we can even do that, every day Robbie spends with you will be a day he isn’t spending with me. And I’m not happy about that.”

  “I don’t blame you,” she murmured. “I wouldn’t be, either.”

  “Right.... Well...we should probably turn back.”

  They walked in silence again until he said, “There’s something else we have to decide. Whether we should tell Robbie you’re his mother.”

  Her automatic response was of course they should, but she caught hers
elf before the words came out. It hadn’t occurred to her there’d be any question about that. There obviously was, though.

  “What do you think?” she asked.

  “Well, I talked it over with Audrey and we both feel that for the time being I should say you’re a friend. And he should call you Natalie.”

  “Oh,” she said, trying to pretend that didn’t hurt.

  “After all, he’s only three. Three and a half.”

  Hank stopped and looked at her then. “I’ve never known his real birth date. We chose one based on the pediatrician’s guess because the records weren’t complete and... Hell, as it’s turned out, the records weren’t even Robbie’s, were they?”

  “He was born on October 11,” she said quietly. “And the earthquake struck on February 15. Those four months were all I had with him.”

  While Hank had had three years. She tried to force that thought away.

  “October 11. The doctor’s guess was pretty close. But the point I wanted to make is that Robbie isn’t old enough to really understand the concept of a mother. Not the fact that a mother’s the woman who gives birth to a person, I mean.

  “Sometimes,” Hank added after a moment, “it’s hard to know exactly what he does understand.”

  “Well, as you said, he’s only three and a half.”

  “Yeah.”

  A few beats passed, then Hank said, “I guess I should tell you that he knows he’s adopted—sort of, at least. I talked to him about it a few months ago, but I don’t think my explanation really made much sense to him.

  “And getting back to his concept of a mother... As far as he’s concerned, I think she’s just someone who lives with a child and looks after him. Something his friends have but he doesn’t.”

  “Has he ever asked why he doesn’t?”

  “Uh-huh. And I told him his mother was dead.”

  “Oh,” she murmured again. Even though she realized it shouldn’t, that hurt, too.

  “Looking at things now,” Hank continued, “I guess it wasn’t the best answer. But it seemed to be at the time. My ex-wife doesn’t keep in touch, which meant there was no point in even mentioning her to him. And as far as I knew, you actually were dead, so...

  “Well, he doesn’t really understand the concept of death, either. And he seems quite content that he has only me and Audrey. At any rate, I think we’d just confuse him if we got into how you can be his mother.”

  She merely nodded, aware her voice would give her away if she spoke.

  She’d studied child development in med school, and half the patients she treated in Villa Rosa were children. She knew the stages of growth their minds went through, was perfectly aware what a child Robbie’s age could comprehend and what he couldn’t.

  Even so, when it came to her son, she’d been deluding herself—imagining that they’d tell him she was his mother, he’d wrap his little arms around her neck and the three missing years would simply melt away. But that wasn’t going to happen.

  Hank had those years and they could never be hers.

  * * *

  HANK CUT THE IGNITION, then stared into the rearview mirror as Natalie’s rental pulled up behind his Jeep.

  She’d suggested coming over in her own car so he wouldn’t have to take her back to the motel, and it had struck him as a good idea.

  He’d figured that driving home alone would give him a chance to sort through something he was having trouble with—the fact that the more time he spent with her the nicer she seemed.

  Oh, not that he’d rather she was evil incarnate. After all, she was Robbie’s mother.

  Still, he’d find their situation easier to cope with if he was obviously the guy wearing the white hat and she was Cruella De Vil.

  But it was clear that nothing about this mess was going to be black-and-white. And unfortunately, like most cops, he wasn’t as good at dealing with shades of gray.

  Opening the door of the truck, he told himself that—as far as their negotiations were concerned—whether Natalie was nice or not was immaterial. Even if she was a reincarnation of Mother Teresa, he didn’t want her ending up with the lion’s share of time with Robbie.

  He watched her get out of the Taurus, thinking she looked nervous. Maybe even frightened. But that was hardly surprising after Robbie had basically ignored her the first time around.

  She had to be concerned about what kind of reception she’d get today. And worried that he’d never decide he liked her.

  Audrey had raised that possibility last night. And after she had, they’d discussed it. They’d even flirted with the idea of trying to ensure Robbie wouldn’t warm to Natalie.

  They’d both been a little ashamed of themselves, but they had considered it—although ultimately they’d rejected it because he had a right to know his mother.

  Like it or not, he did. A moral right and a legal one, as well. Doris Wagner had left no doubt on that score. Still, Hank couldn’t help wondering how long Natalie would persist if Robbie didn’t take to her.

  Maybe she’d get discouraged pretty fast. Discouraged enough to pack up and head back to Guatemala. Alone.

  He fantasized about that for a few seconds, then told himself it was nothing but wishful thinking. After spending three years and heaven only knows how much money to find her son, she wouldn’t quit now that she had.

  Besides, her quiet manner probably made most kids feel at ease with her. And Robbie was basically a pretty friendly little guy, so he’d come around.

  Glancing at the shopping bag she was holding, he thought about how many points she’d score with that fire engine—likely enough that she’d have Robbie on her side in no time. And once he decided he liked her...

  Hank gestured that they should head for the house, not wanting to let his thoughts wander any further down that road right now.

  Sooner or later they’d have to start talking about how much sharing each of them was prepared to do. But he was in no rush. Discussing the idea would only make it seem more real.

  * * *

  WHEN HANK STARTED forward Natalie followed along, telling herself there was no reason to feel even half as uncomfortable as she did. That wasn’t actually true, though.

  The man wished she was anywhere else. She could read that in his body language—in his walk and the stiff set of his broad shoulders.

  Telling herself not to go there, she turned her attention to the house. In contrast to him, it seemed positively welcoming.

  The first time around, she’d been so nervous that she’d barely noticed what the exterior was like. Today, she was a little more observant. And the Cape Cod styling, the gray board-and-batten construction, the long front porch with its white railing...everything about it added up to a “friendly” sort of place.

  The setting was appealing, too. On either side of the house, the lawn gave way to shrubs and trees that seemed to stretch forever—although she could make out a weathered split-rail fence that said he didn’t own anywhere near as far as she could see.

  They’d almost reached the porch steps when the door flew open and her son came racing out. Just as it had the other day, her breath caught at the sight of him.

  “Hey,” Hank said, swinging him up into his arms. “I haven’t been gone for a month, you know.”

  “Yeah, but Mrs. Chevy made cookies. For the company. So I hadda wait for you. And her,” he added in a loud whisper, looking over at the “company.”

  Natalie shot him the warmest smile she could manage.

  “This is Natalie,” Hank said. “Do you remember her?”

  As Robbie gave an exaggerated shrug, Audrey appeared in the doorway. Her expression said she was determined to be pleasant if it killed her—and that she was convinced it might.

  “Hi,” Natalie said, managing another smile, also.

  “Hi. I heard Robbie telling you I baked some cookies. So come in and we’ll see how they turned out.”

  * * *

  GLAD SHE’D HAD the foresight to wear jeans, Nat
alie scuttled across the living room, trying her hardest to stay ahead of Robbie.

  The fire engine had proved a major hit. And while he raced it around the floor, making loud siren wails, she was in charge of moving cars out of its path.

  Unfortunately, there were so many of them that she kept hearing impatient honking noises among the wailing.

  Every so often, when she’d managed to clear a stretch of “road,” she glanced over to where Hank was sitting on the couch. He was pretending to read the paper. But since he hadn’t turned a page in half an hour, she knew he was actually keeping a close eye on them. And she couldn’t stop imagining what he must be thinking—not to mention feeling.

  Looking away, she reminded herself that she had every right to spend some time with her own son. She shouldn’t have a sense of guilt about it.

  But she knew why she did. She was getting what she wanted at Hank’s expense, and she’d really prefer that wasn’t the way things had to be.

  “Robbie?” he said.

  They both turned toward him.

  “You’re going to wear Natalie out. Maybe you should do something a little quieter for a while.”

  “What?”

  “Play with one of your puzzles? Or see if she’ll read you a story?”

  “Wanna do a puzzle?” he asked her.

  “Sure.”

  She watched him hurry over to the bookcase, the bottom two shelves of which were obviously his. Then, as he knelt poking through his things, she glanced at Hank once more.

  Because her anxiety level had been sky-high the other day, her memory of the entire visit was a bit of a blur. But she recalled realizing that he wasn’t what she’d expected. And that those conclusions she’d jumped to, after reading Rodger Spicer’s report, hadn’t all been accurate.

  Oh, she still had trouble with his being a police detective. Aside from anything else, she couldn’t understand what would make someone want to work in homicide.

  But setting that aside, he’d obviously been doing a great job with Robbie—which gave her strangely mixed feelings.

  She’d always hoped and prayed that, wherever her son was, he’d been adopted by good people. But somehow, at the same time, she’d imagined that when she finally found him she’d be rescuing him from a family that hadn’t given him nearly as much love as he deserved.