by Anna Adams
No subtlety in Lilah. So they had something in common. “Too bad you weren’t so honest when you got pregnant with him.”
“I’m in Chicago,” she said, clearly choosing to ignore his observation. “On my way to Tennessee. I go through Atlanta, but I’ll be in Knoxville in the morning.”
“Great. See you tomorrow, then.”
“I’ll rent a car and drive down.”
He hadn’t been on the verge of offering to pick her up. “Ben will be glad to see you.” Only Ben. Her games were wearing him out, and he didn’t care if she knew.
“But you wish I’d stuck to our original plan.”
His temper got away from him. “Do you care?” They were both breathing hard.
“Not a bit,” she said.
“Good.”
“Not so good for Ben, though.” Her voice was quiet, reflective. She sounded like the thoughtful Lilah he’d known before they parted, the woman he’d believed in. “If his parents can’t stand each other, he’ll know,” she said. “Maybe we should both work harder at getting along when Ben’s around.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
MANEUVERING THROUGH THE mountain roads, the morning sun in her eyes, Lilah had plenty of time to reconsider the plan she’d already set in motion. She’d called her family’s attorney from the hotel in Chicago, and told him to contact child protective services in Bliss County.
She didn’t have to put up with being blackmailed. The night Owen had left Vermont to tell his family about Ben, she’d called Mr. Bankman and asked him about her rights to Ben.
He’d suggested she should appear to be amenable, show some remorse for having kept Ben away from Owen all these years. If Owen took her to court, remorse would look better than arrogance. She’d asked him how alcoholism would look.
Today, they’d find out. The Tennessee authorities, along with local attorneys Mr. Bankman had chosen, were supposed to arrive at the Gage property about the same time Lilah did. She’d meet them there and follow them to Owen’s cabin.
Vaguely aware of the frozen waterfalls clinging to granite outcroppings and frost glittering on bare tree limbs, Lilah pressed her foot harder on the gas pedal. Last night she’d suggested they should stop fighting each other.
She didn’t enjoy being a hypocrite.
But if she was right, and Owen was still drinking, it wasn’t safe for Ben to be alone with him. She could end this crazy vacation from their real lives today, before they had to make any more changes. She hated being held hostage by Owen.
And yet the action felt extreme, even to her.
She felt a little queasy as she passed the rectangular green sign, pockmarked with bullet holes, that told her she had ten more miles to drive before she reached Bliss.
* * *
CLAMBERING OVER THE barn’s roof, inspecting the grainy, tarred shingles to see if the materials could be recycled after they put on the new roof, Owen heard the roar of multiple car engines. He straightened, shielding his eyes from the sun as he searched the tree-lined road toward his mother’s inn.
Three cars formed a caravan, tires grinding gravel, throwing up dirty snow.
An SUV led the way, followed by a sheriff’s car. The end sedan bore a seal on the driver’s door.
Owen headed to the ladder. By the time he reached the ground his crew had gathered around him with Ben, who’d been hanging out with one of the carpenters.
“What’s going on?” the foreman asked. “Something with the job?”
“I doubt it.” Owen took Ben’s hand. That seal said something about children.
“That’s a bunch of cars, Own.”
“I think one might be your mom’s.”
“Mommy?”
“Let’s walk over there and see.”
Lilah had been too calm, far too cooperative. He would have fought harder than she had if the shoe had been on the other foot. He should have expected she’d try to prove he was unfit. His alcoholism was her best and only weapon.
His conscience pinched a little as he realized he might have driven her to alert the authorities. He just hoped these people would look closely enough at the situation to see that Lilah was as angry with him as he was with her. He had to admit there were moments in the past four years when he wouldn’t have been a good father.
But he was trying. He struggled every day to stay sober.
“Maybe we should keep the boy?” the carpenter asked.
Owen shook his head. Ben would want to see his mom. “We’ll be back.” He let go of Ben’s hand and took off his own heavy work gloves.
The cars’ occupants emerged. A second SUV came barreling down the road. Owen could see it was Lilah, looking grim behind the steering wheel.
A couple of black-suited men stepped out of the first SUV. Two sheriff’s deputies opened their car doors. At least Sheriff Layton hadn’t shown up. That must mean Owen was getting the benefit of at least one official’s doubt. From the last car a woman and man eased out, their eyes on him.
He got a good look at the seal on the open door. Department of Children’s Services.
Lilah had staged her revenge. She parked and got out of the car.
“Mommy—” Ben took off, stopping only when his mother knelt to hug him close.
Lilah straightened as Owen drew near, looking less pleased than he’d expected. She stationed herself between the guys who looked like lawyers.
“Owen, I want you to meet my attorneys, Hank Sheridan, and his associate, Dan Randall.” She gestured to the visitors from children’s services. “This is Mary Grant and Paul Stanford.”
“And our friends from the sheriff’s office,” Hank said.
“I went to school with Mary and Tom and Jay.” He shook hands with them and waited for the others to start the proceedings.
No one spoke.
Owen turned to Lilah. “What’s your story?”
She put her shoulders back, but her attitude was more brazening-out-a-bad-situation, than I’ve-got-you-in-my-sights.
“I explained that you have a serious issue with alcohol addiction.” She glanced uncomfortably at Ben. At least she had some human kindness left. “And you blackmailed me into bringing my son down here.” She flicked a glance at Mary Grant. “I was barely older than Ben when the incidents I described to you happened. Owen threatened to reveal them if I didn’t cooperate with him, but I’m the only one who’ll decide when to share that information.”
Mary shot Owen a shocked glance—over his son’s head. But he didn’t feel guilty. Lilah’s little surprise today proved he’d been right to take such extreme measures.
“While I don’t approve of blackmail,” Mary said, “Owen’s behavior isn’t as dangerous as his possible addiction.”
“What’s ’diction?” Ben asked.
Owen leveled a frustrated glance at Lilah. He’d threatened to reveal her secrets, but he would never have forced Lilah to tell Ben. His drinking was shameful, embarrassing, but she had no problem making sure he’d have to explain it to Ben.
Even she paled. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t think about it happening this way.”
“How else would it happen? Ben’s here with me. You brought all these—” He stopped himself. “People,” he said.
He turned and waved at his head carpenter. As the man came to them, Owen’s glance took in all the adults around them. “Ben, buddy, why don’t you go hang out over at the barn with Mr. Craig, and we’ll come get you after we finish talking?”
Mary’s colleague looked sympathetically at Lilah. No doubt he was taken in by her beauty and the vulnerability she exhibited now. She must have realized she’d gone too far, but that didn’t blunt Owen’s frustration. This was supposed to be his chance to get to know Ben. Owen would be lucky now if Ben weren’t afraid of him.<
br />
He should have known better. Steel determination had kept Lilah alive in a situation that might have broken most adults. Naturally, she’d fight back for her son.
“See you in a few minutes, Mommy,” Ben said as Craig took him back toward the barn.
She waved, but even she looked ashamed. Owen felt sick.
“Let’s get this over with,” he said. “And maybe we can try not to make things any worse.”
“We may decide to take the child with us if foster care is necessary,” Paul said.
Owen felt the same dread he’d known as a child. Lilah twisted her hands together.
“No one’s taking him,” Owen said, in the odd position of comforting the woman who’d brought this trouble to the farm. “Even if you have doubts about me, Lilah’s fitness as a mother has never been in question.”
She looked stricken for a second but composed herself swiftly. Owen wasn’t trying to defend or protect Lilah. His concern was for Ben—and selfishly, for himself. He would be a good father. He just needed Lilah to give him a chance.
“We’d make the same point about Ms. Bantry’s fitness,” Hank said. “We simply request that the boy and his mother be relocated to a hotel in town. We have enough to choose from, and Mary and Paul can finish their investigation of Owen Gage without interference or the possibility of unsettling the child.”
Mary’s brittle smile eased Owen’s anxiety. She wasn’t taken in by the lawyer’s attempt to direct this intervention. She knew Owen, and she knew he was trying to stay sober.
“I understand what’s going on here at the barn, and enough of us know Owen to know when he’s failing,” she said. His latest and hopefully, last attempt at sobriety had buzzed through the town’s grapevine since he’d won the clinic contract. “We can’t take a child who’s not in danger, simply because his father might drink. Do you mind if we take a look inside your residence, Owen?” Mary asked.
“Not at all. Sorry I’m not a better housekeeper.”
The place was as neat as a show cabin except for some of Ben’s toys strewn around. Suzannah’s work the day before had topped off Owen’s nightly de-cluttering and dusting. Cleaning kept him from thinking too hard, or from opening the kitchen cabinet, where a bottle of cooking wine was shoved toward the back.
He might need to tackle the closets after he put Ben to bed tonight.
He turned to Lilah. “I should have known you were up to something. I was blind because I felt guilty, and I wanted this to work out between us.”
She blushed. “Yes,” she said, but she didn’t try to stop this farce she’d set in motion.
“I don’t see why we can’t ask Ben where he’d like to stay.” Hank bent down to pat the curious, chestnut-brown goat who had trotted over to tug at the knees of his pants.
Lilah’s frustration flickered in her eyes. “Because Owen has goats and trains and fun? And he’s new to Ben?”
“And I need time to get to know him,” Owen said. “Lilah, he’s four years old, and he barely knows me. If you ask him, he’s more likely to go with you.”
“I know my son. He’ll see Owen as an adventure. Ben’s not afraid,” she said. “Not like me.” She looked as if she wanted to cry, and Owen felt an inexplicable need to comfort her.
This was all so messed up. He’d tried to blackmail her because he was hurt and angry. She’d tried to smear his already tarnished name because she was angry and afraid. He didn’t know what to do.
“Listen, Lilah,” he said, glancing uncomfortably at their audience. “We’ve both made mistakes, but I’d never do anything—and that includes speaking about your past—that might hurt our son. I just want to know him. We might have addressed this with attorneys first, and we could let these people settle it for us, but between us, I’m asking you to give me some time with my son.”
Someone must have waved Ben and Craig back over because the carpenter let Ben’s hand go, and Owen’s son ran to him.
Lilah touched her hand to her throat, and even Owen believed she was torn, but she bent to look her child in the eye, even as he held on to Owen’s hand.
“Ben? Honey, would you like to move into a hotel in town? We’ll only be a few minutes away, and we’ll find so many fun things to do.”
“Ms. Bantry,” Paul Stanford said in a warning voice.
“I love you, Mommy, but I kind of like Owen.”
Despite the fact he was a grown man who’d endured more than his share of battle-hardening experiences, Owen’s throat tightened. He swallowed the lump, determined to look in control. He ruffled his son’s hair, and Ben hugged Lilah, tip-toeing off the ground.
“What if you need me?” she asked.
“Own promised me last night we would call you if I need you.”
“If Mr. Gage would like to invite you into his home,” Mary said with a nod at Owen, silently suggesting he man up and do the right thing.
“Not tonight.” He didn’t elaborate. He and Lilah didn’t need to discuss this any further in front of Ben.
“We’ll just do a quick home visit,” Mary said, “and then I imagine we’ll be getting out of your way, unless you’d like to talk to us about some possible methods to make this transition easier on your son.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Lilah said.
Owen stared hard at her. She set Ben back on his feet, but touched his cheek.
“I made a mistake,” she said, looking only at Ben. “I won’t do that again.”
“Mistakes are okay, Mommy.” Their little boy hugged her. “Want to see my room?”
“In a few minutes.” She caught his small hand in hers.
Owen couldn’t seem to breathe. So much emotion unsettled him. He’d been wrong, but he wouldn’t give up even the one night he’d had with his son. He just had no more interest in hurting Lilah. Staring into her tight, sad face, he understood her pain, and he vowed not to purposefully cause any more problems between them.
“Maybe you should join us for dinner tonight. Ben hasn’t met my family yet, and they’re coming. Please,” he added, the word like lead in his mouth.
“It would probably be good if we all had dinner together,” Lilah said, and Owen’s relief was immeasurable.
Mary turned to the sheriff’s deputies. “You can go. We’ll take it from here.”
* * *
THE INSPECTION TEAM from children’s services went in and came out in record time with the promise of releasing their findings as soon as possible. Relieved, Owen waited while Lilah and Ben inspected his room. Eventually, they came out together.
“It’s a nice room,” she said. “He seems to like it.”
“I’m glad. Thanks for not making all that worse,” Owen said.
“Let’s go.” Ben tugged at his dad’s hand. “Mr. Craig and me were picking up pieces of wood Own and I can use for our trains.”
“Is he safe over there?”
“Craig’s the carpenter. He’s not busy yet, so he’s been hanging out with Ben. They’re collecting blocks of excess wood that I thought we could paint as buildings for a train layout.”
“I saw the trains.” She nodded. “You won’t let him near the actual work?”
“I won’t.”
“Then I’d better check in at your mother’s place. That’s the inn, back there, the yellow building?”
He nodded, too, and their truce held. He went back to the barn, with Ben galloping in his wake.
Ben had forgotten the morning’s confusion by the time they turned off the lights in the barn and walked back to the cabin that night. He waited while Owen opened the front door.
“Own, what are we eating? I’m hungry.”
“My mom’s bringing dinner when everyone comes over tonight.”
“Mommy lets me make my own sandwiches when I wan
t a snack.” Ben looked up at him, rocking on his sneakers as Owen stood him on the couch and began to unzip his jacket. “But I can’t stand on the furniture.”
“Then you should probably hop down.”
Ben jumped with the skills of a stuntman, shedding his outdoor things as he ran across the family room and into the kitchen to search the refrigerator.
“Cheese,” he said, “And then there’s all this other stuff in these pans. My mom likes cooking. We cook a lot. Sometimes I help. Your mom must like to cook. My friend, Jason, gets to eat out a lot because his mommy and daddy both hate their stove. That’s what he says.”
Ben gathered Ben’s coat and gloves and mittens. “My mother’s like your mom. In cooking anyway.”
“Where is my mom? She never leaves me with strangers this long.”
Owen dropped Ben’s things and knelt in front of him. “We both explained who I am,” he said. “I thought we were getting along pretty well. For strangers.”
How could he persuade Ben to trust him when he’d never managed to make anyone believe in him?
“I want a daddy.” Ben stared down at his hands, twisting them together the way Lilah did when she was under stress.
“Maybe you’re not sure I’m the right daddy yet?”
Ben didn’t answer for a few seconds that stretched too long. Finally, he nodded, just one tilt of his head down and one up. “I want to stay with you, but can’t I see Mommy, too?”
“You can see Mommy anytime.” Owen wanted to stroke his son’s hair, but he was afraid he’d scare him off. “She has a cell phone, and you do, too. Just call her, and she’ll come see you whenever you ask her to.”
“But where is she now?”
“At my mom’s—that little yellow house we saw this morning, and she’s coming to dinner. You’re not worried, are you?”
Ben nodded, but with so much reluctance, Owen’s heart ached.
“You don’t need to be afraid of anything. I’ll bet your mom is on her way here now with my mother and my brothers and sister.” He allowed himself to lightly fist-bump Ben’s shoulder. “With food. Excellent food.”
