In Colton's Custody

by Dana Nussio

  “Sorry. I should take this.”

  He stepped away and turned his back before tapping the button to answer the call. “Rattlesnake Ridge Ranch. May I help you?”

  “Have I reached Asher Colton?” a female voice asked.

  “This is Asher.” He squeezed the phone tighter and pressed it against his ear.

  “My name is Anne Sewall. I am the administrator at Mustang Valley General Hospital.”

  “Has something happened with my father?” he blurted before he could stop himself.

  His heart thudding, he clamped his free arm to his side and waited for the worst news he could imagine.

  “Oh. No.” The woman made a strange sound into the phone. “You’ll have to call the nurse’s station on the floor for specifics on your father’s condition. I’m sorry for causing you distress.”

  “Then why are you calling?”

  It was a testament to his superior restraint that he didn’t include the hell in his question. What had she thought he would assume? It wasn’t a secret in town that his dad was a patient at Mustang Valley General.

  “There’s another, unrelated matter that we need to discuss. I was hoping that you could bring your infant daughter to my office today and—”

  “What are you talking about? And what do you want with Harper? Was there something the pediatrician missed in her six-month checkup?”

  “No.” Her nervous chuckle filtered through the connection. “It’s not that. Again, I apologize, Mr. Colton. I realize that this is unusual. But if you’ll just meet me in my office, I’ll explain the whole situation.”

  “I would rather that you explain it right now.” His mother had always called him stubborn, and he was proving her right, but he couldn’t help it. This woman had already frightened him twice, and he wasn’t about to let her go for a hat trick.

  “That would be highly irregular.” She cleared her throat again. “This is a delicate matter. We don’t customarily divulge this type of information over the phone.”

  “Well, I would say that it’s not usual to phone a community member out of the blue and, in the space of two minutes, give him concerns about both his father and his child.” He didn’t care if he was the one jumping to those conclusions. She should have explained herself better.

  “Fine.” She sighed. “Obviously, this information would be more appropriate if given in person.”

  “Noted. So?”

  “I’m sorry to inform you that there’s a possibility that your daughter, Harper Grace Colton, and another infant, also born on November 2, might have been accidentally switched in Mustang Valley General’s nursery.”

  “Again?”

  He didn’t care if his question came out as a yelp. Was this a joke? In what realm of possibility could there be two Colton babies—albeit forty years apart—who’d been switched at birth?

  “How could you let this happen?”

  “Now, we don’t know anything for certain, Mr. Colton. That is why we’re asking you and the other party to bring your infants in immediately for DNA tests.”

  She prattled on about how sorry the hospital board was for this possible mix-up, but he wasn’t listening. All he could think about was his sweet little Harper, with her crop of light brown hair, those dimples like his and eyes as brown as Nora’s. How could there be a chance that she wasn’t his? Or Nora’s, if a mother who abandoned her baby could even count as one.

  Harper was his. She looked just like him. Everyone said so. He shook his head to dismiss the unfathomable possibility that they weren’t even related.

  “What kind of bumbling hospital are you guys running?”

  “We deeply regret this possible mistake. Thankfully, we’ll be able to clear up the questions with a DNA test. It won’t hurt the infants. Just a cheek swab.”

  She spoke about it as if it was only an inconvenience, like an online retailer mixing up two customers’ packages. As if the results of those tests wouldn’t have the power to destroy not one but two families.

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  With that, he clicked off the call. He didn’t care if his tone was rude.

  “Everything all right?”

  Asher’s shoulder blades squeezed together. He’d forgotten that he wasn’t alone. He glanced at Jace. Concern etched in lines between the man’s brows. Jace’s shoulders were back, his arms pressed to his sides, as if he was preparing himself for bad news. The kind that could devastate a guy who thought he’d just found his father.

  “It’s not about Dad,” Asher said automatically, not even bothering to include my. It was the decent thing not to worry the guy unnecessarily about Payne, like the hospital administrator had done to him.

  Jace’s shoulders dropped forward. “Thought I’d never get the chance to meet him. If we find out he and Tessa really are my parents, then I already missed the chance to know one of them.”

  Asher nodded, staring at the ground. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like for a guy to track down his possible biological parents, only to learn that one of them had passed away years before. He couldn’t think about that just then, either. One crisis at a time.

  “Look, there’s something I need to take care of. Can you hang around the ranch until my sister picks you up? Our cook, Dulcie, will make you whatever you like for lunch if you stop by the main house kitchen.”

  “I know my way around. I’ve met Dulcie, too.”

  “Oh. Right.” He wasn’t thinking clearly.

  “Don’t worry about me. I can find something to occupy my time.” Jace pulled his phone from his pocket. “Maybe I’ll even catch up with my friends back home. They probably think I’ve vanished by now.”

  “Probably. Okay. Thanks.”

  Asher started toward the house.

  “And Asher?”

  He looked back once more.

  “Whatever it is? I’m sure it will be okay.”

  He nodded, unable to trust his voice. Though he could have told their guest where he was going and why, he wasn’t ready to share it. Even if Jace might have understood the trauma of a switched-at-birth situation better than anyone. And even if they could have carpooled to Mustang Valley General since Jace was headed to the same lab. Heck, with Dad still there, they should have applied for a Colton bulk discount on their medical bills.

  Asher continued up the path past the rows of white barns and outbuildings. He had to force himself not to run to the house and his own wing on the third floor, where Harper would be just waking up from her morning nap. Once inside his living quarters, he sprinted all the way to the nursery, unbuttoning his sweaty plaid shirt as he went. He would grab something clean on his way out the door.

  In her room, Harper was already sitting up in her crib and making cute sounds for the video monitor that Dulcie watched from the kitchen. Wisps of the baby’s barely there hair stood up, punk-rocker style.

  “Where’s my Harper girl?”

  She squealed, her wide, toothless grin stretching even farther.

  His possible big brother had said everything would be all right. But Jace couldn’t promise that. Just like no one could guarantee that Payne Colton would awaken from his coma and demand an accounting of the first-quarter books at Colton Oil. Depending on the outcome of today’s DNA test, Asher’s life and that of his sweet baby girl might never be okay again.

  Chapter 2

  Willow Merrill startled at the sound of the blaring horn while driving her mini SUV past one of the few stoplights along Mustang Boulevard, also called “Mustang Valley Boulevard” on some old maps. Okay, that light had been pink. Well, more fuchsia.

  “Sorry.”

  She waved at the other driver, who scowled back at her through the open window. At least it hadn’t been one of her day-care clients. She needed to calm down and pay attention to her driving if she wanted them to arri
ve at the hospital without heading straight to the ER.

  At least she didn’t have to worry that the honk had frightened her six-month-old baby. Luna’s squeals coming from the rear-facing infant car seat in the back told Willow her daughter was just fine.

  “What are you laughing about back there?”

  The baby cackled as she did at all her mother’s jokes. Great. Her kid was going to be a thrill seeker, a luxury Willow had never known.

  Her kid. Willow swallowed. How had she forgotten, even for a few seconds, why they were headed to the hospital in the first place? This couldn’t be happening. The woman on the phone had to be wrong. One more thing in a week that had started out bad and had gone downhill from there. Her gaze flicked to the notebook in the passenger seat. She’d written all the details from the call on it before giving her own instructions to her staff and racing out with Luna in her arms.

  There had to be a mistake. How could there be a chance that precious Luna wasn’t her child? The infant’s tawny skin was as dark as hers, and the child’s capful of brown hair had already begun to curl. If only basic resemblance could guarantee that they were mother and daughter. Nearly a third of Arizona’s population was of Latino heritage like her, so babies with Luna’s hair and skin coloring were hardly rare in Mustang Valley.

  An ache formed in Willow’s chest, squeezing and twisting. Heat gathered behind her eyes. No, she wouldn’t cry. Luna needed her to be strong. She needed her mother. And nothing could convince her that Luna wasn’t the baby she’d once cradled inside her own body and had met at her first breath. She’d promised this child a life filled with the type of security Willow had only dreamed of. Could she have made that vow to the wrong infant?

  Managing to avoid more near misses on her trip along the town’s main drag, she pulled into the hospital campus and parked at the five-story building’s main entrance.

  She buckled Luna in the stroller the child loathed and rolled it through the automatic doors. Following the signs, she headed down a long corridor and stopped in front of the administrative offices.

  A woman in a light pink pantsuit pounced on her the moment she pushed Luna inside.

  “You must be Mrs. Merrill.” The woman pumped Willow’s hand, a flush climbing her own pale neck, her blond bob bouncing. “I’m Anne Sewall, but please call me Anne. I appreciate your coming over so quickly.”

  “It’s Willow. And thanks for giving me the information over the phone.”

  The older woman’s glasses shifted as she wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t have a choice, since the other party had insisted that I release the details that way.”

  Other party. That was the only descriptor Willow had for someone who might be about to steal away her child. She wasn’t ready to wrap her thoughts around the possibility that another mother might be raising an infant biologically connected to her.

  “Will your husband be joining us this morning?”

  Willow shook her head. “No. He was my ex-husband. I mean, well, both he and his new wife are deceased.”

  The last development was recent enough that this was the first time Willow had been forced to explain it to anyone beyond close friends. The part about Xavier leaving her for another woman, though, was well-traveled history.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Merrill.”

  “Thank you.” She would have preferred to say, “don’t be,” but she couldn’t tell a stranger that.

  Anne wrung her hands and then crouched in front of the stroller where Luna was already fussing and wiggling against the harness safety restraint.

  “You must be Miss Luna Mariana Merrill. You’re a beauty.”

  The baby scrunched her face, so to avoid what would surely be a good wail, Willow unsnapped the buckle and lifted the child into her arms.

  “She takes compliments better once she’s out of that contraption.”

  The administrator struggled to her feet and pointed to a place next to the wall. “Why don’t you park the stroller right there and take a seat inside my office? I’m sure the others will arrive shortly.”

  An image of a happily married couple and child, a family worthy of a Thomas Kinkade painting, invaded Willow’s thoughts as she pulled the diaper bag from the stroller handle. Would a judge see that intact family unit as a better choice for both babies if this awful premise turned out to be fact? She shook her head to push away the thought, but nothing could calm her insides.

  Just as she stepped inside Anne’s office, a beep signaled that the reception-area door had been opened.

  Anne held up her index finger. “I’ll be right back.”

  From somewhere outside the room, the administrator’s muffled voice melded with a baritone one. Willow dragged one of the visitors’ chairs as far as she could from the other, sat and settled Luna on her lap.

  Needing something to do with her hands, she straightened her baby’s mint-green top and smoothed her fingers over the striped leggings. Then she gripped one of the open sides of her chambray shirt that she’d thrown on over her clothes and tried to cover her bare legs. If only she’d had time to change out of her work clothes.

  “We’ll be fine, sweetie. Just fine.” She only hoped what she’d told her daughter was true.

  She straightened as heavy footfalls grew closer to the office.

  “Right in here.”

  Anne’s voice preceded her into the room. A man followed her inside, carrying an infant whose photo could have been given as Luna’s direct opposite. The baby had ivory skin and light brown hair, and she was dressed in a fancy floral sundress and matching headband.

  She didn’t resemble Willow, either, if having brown eyes didn’t count. Though the babies were supposed to be the same age, this one appeared smaller than Luna, but that might have had to do with the man carrying her. The one who crowded the doorway with those broad shoulders and muscular arms, emphasized by his fitted black T-shirt.

  Anne gestured toward the guest chair and then crossed behind her desk and sat.

  “Come in and have a seat so that we can begin.”

  The man didn’t budge, though, as his light green eyes focused on Willow. Something about him struck her as familiar, but then he looked like a cowboy, and ranch hands were almost as common as cattle in the area. He had tousled brown hair, long on top and trimmed close at his neck. His bronzed skin was probably the result of too much outdoor labor and not enough sunscreen rather than any genetic bent. Those thigh-hugging jeans and the boots that had missed a shine or a dozen didn’t fit, either.

  Well, the jeans did.

  At the sound of someone clearing her throat, Willow blinked several times, her neck and cheeks burning. What was she doing? Had she been staring at the guy who might have come there to take her child? Sure, he’d been looking back, but probably only at Luna, as he searched for any resemblance to signal that she was his. Well, she wasn’t. Willow’s arms immediately tightened around her baby, who squirmed and whined.

  Anne gestured to them. “Willow Merrill, I’d like you to meet—”

  The cowboy took one step inside the room and waved to interrupt her. “Please, allow me. I’m Asher. This is Harper.”

  Though his expression had been stoic until then, it transformed, twin dimples and all, the moment he pressed his cheek to the top of his child’s head. Something Willow chose not to define squeezed inside her chest. She and this Asher weren’t on the same side in this situation, and she needed to remember that.

  “And that young lady is Luna.”

  As Anne completed the introductions, she shifted in her seat and gestured toward the guest chair again. This time Asher sidled over and settled with Harper on his knee. The infants peeked at each other, taking turns hiding their faces.

  “Pleased to meet you, Luna.” Asher cleared his throat. “And Willow.”

  “You, too,” she said, though she was anything but pleased. He
probably thought he was being cute by speaking to her daughter first. She wasn’t impressed.

  Anne folded her hands together and nodded at Willow.

  “I’m so glad you were able to get away from the day-care center to come in this morning. Tender Years, right?” She waited for Willow’s nod before turning to Asher. “And I know how busy you must be on the ranch at this time of year, so I appreciate your both coming in so quickly.”

  He nodded, shoving his hand back through his hair in what was probably a habit. Neither stated the obvious that they’d had no choice but to accept that invitation.

  “I thought it would be easier to share the information on the possible switch with all of you at the same time, but you both must agree to discussing these matters publicly, in accordance with HIPAA medical information laws.”

  “Fine by me,” Asher said.

  “Me, too.” She was still hanging on the words possible switch. That still meant it might not be true.

  Anne glanced over at the open door. “You didn’t say, Asher. Will Harper’s mother be joining us?”

  Her mother? His wife? Willow shot a glance at the empty doorway. As if it wasn’t bad enough that she’d been checking out the guy who should have been her adversary, she’d never considered that there would be a she.

  “Long gone,” he blurted and then cleared his throat. “I mean, my former partner is deceased.”

  Those two things didn’t mean close to the same thing, but that was none of her business. Even if she couldn’t get over how coincidental it was that both babies had already lost a parent at such a tender age, she couldn’t worry about that just then.

  Willow cleared her throat. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Please accept my condolences,” Anne said.

  Asher nodded, his gaze sliding to Willow. “Luna’s dad?”