A Mother's Secrets

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  An emcee came out. Asked the crowd if they’d enjoyed the break. Said he hoped they’d had enough time to get refreshments from the carts she and Jamie had passed on the way in. Jamie scooted closer to her. Put an arm behind her, touching her back, but resting on the metal bench on the far side of her.

  No one was going to bump her from behind. And she had support for a back that was starting to ache now and then. So thoughtful.

  “Up next in our competition is a thirteen-year-old from Santa Barbara,” the emcee said. “Shawn Bretton.”

  “Competition?” she asked Jamie, looking at her watch, as the audience clapped. “I thought there was a show due to start. Your kids are up in ten minutes.”

  “This is the show they’re in,” he said, staring at the stage, his voice a little short. “It’s a music competition put on in conjunction with schools and talent agencies.”

  A young man had walked out onstage dressed in black pants and a white button-down shirt with the sleeve cuffs rolled halfway up his arms. He walked with confidence and stood a bit awkwardly. A combination of adult and kid.

  “Tell us a little about yourself, Shawn.”

  “I’m a student at Shelby Junior High, in the eighth grade. I play baseball, and I hope to study law.”

  “And what are you going to sing for us today?”

  “A song my dad wrote when I was little...”

  “Your dad. He’s a songwriter?”

  “Yeah, but he told me not to say any more about that. I’m me, not him. But can I say one thing?”

  “Of course.”

  “My dad, he’s like this man that...” The boy stopped. Pulled the mic he’d walked out with away from his mouth. Looked off in the distance, and then pulled the mic back. “He used to sing. Until the car accident that killed my sister and hurt my dad so he couldn’t sing anymore. My mom was hurt, too, and couldn’t have any more kids. My dad wrote this song about how life is hard, and it’s beautiful, too. It’s kind of about our family...”

  The kid was so...real. So... She didn’t know what. He was cute as could be with dark hair and eyes. She was close enough she could see the expression in those eyes as he glanced down at the first row just before he started to sing.

  And the words—about the joy a little boy brings to a family. From his first grin, his first tooth, his first step. How all the firsts teach his parents that everything will be okay as long as they don’t let death win. No matter what the future holds, there will always be a first grin, a first tooth, a first step that will bring joy. Because while death was a part of living, so was birth. New life. First grins, first teeth, first steps.

  As the boy’s perfect high pitch, not yet deepened with puberty, drew to its final close, Christine became aware of herself sitting there. Mesmerized.

  And sobbing. With Jamie’s arm wrapped tightly around her.

  The crowd gave the boy a full second of reverent silence and then exploded into applause around them. Christine sat there, unable to do anything but feel.

  How could a child bring such truth to her world? And slap her at the same time?

  She’d lost so much. But not a child to death. Her child lived somewhere. And she hadn’t lost her ability to carry a child, as Olivia had.

  But had she, in her pain, robbed herself of first grins? First teeth? First steps? Had she robbed herself of the joy of new life because of her loss? Was she letting death win?

  “I have to tell you something. Right now,” Jamie said, suddenly, looking from his phone, which had signaled a text, to somewhere off to the side of them, and back to her. “And I think you’re going to want to hold yourself together.”

  Of course. That she could do. With a sniffle and a deep breath, she sat up straighter. She was there for him. For his students. He must have seen them off to the side of them. Ready to go on.

  Jamie’s hand squeezed her shoulder, pulling her so tightly against him she could feel his heart beating. “Shawn Bretton is your son, Chris. And I was under the impression that while you could watch him, you weren’t going to get to meet him. His parents offered him the opportunity to meet his birth mother and he chose not to do so. But his parents told me he’d be here today and invited you to come watch him, just not meet him. But I just had a text that his parents saw you sitting here and they’re willing to introduce you to him. He just can’t know who you are. Anywhere else it would be hard to explain, but here, you could just be a fan of his song.”

  She heard the words. Listened hard inside her brain and heard them again. Still reeling from the music, she started to shake. Looked off to the side where Jamie had looked, saw a couple standing there, looking toward her and toward the back of the stage as well.

  The boy on the stage. The love. The voice. He played baseball.

  And... He was hers?

  Not hers, but he was who Ryder had become?

  She stared into Jamie’s eyes. “You found my son?” The words stuck in her throat. Came out in mostly a whisper that he probably couldn’t even hear over the crowd talking around them as they awaited judges’ scoring and the next act.

  Jamie nodded, but the tears in his eyes were her real answer. “Because you don’t have to do it alone, Chris...”

  Leaning in, she planted her lips on his. It didn’t matter that they were on the front bleacher with a crowd behind them. That her son’s parents were watching. That she was in his employ, pregnant with a child he’d created with another woman.

  She just didn’t have any words to thank him.

  * * *

  Jamie fell in love all over again as he stood with his arm around Chris and watched her smile from ear to ear, as she was introduced to the young man she’d birthed. There was no hint of the emotion that had to be roiling inside her, just a self-conscious wipe of her eyes as she told him what a great job he’d done. And thanked him, too.

  “I...lost a baby once,” she said. “And until today, when I heard you sing... I’ve been letting my sadness win...so, thank you.” The words explained the sign of tears on her face without, in any way, giving a hint that it had to be taking everything she had not to grab the boy in her arms and not let go.

  His parents stood on either side of him. But both of them met her gaze as they thanked her profusely for sharing her story with them.

  They were thanking her for a lot more than that.

  Jamie knew. And in the car, on the way home, Chris said, “How can I mourn a past that not only gave him a much better life than I could have back then, but gave them back their lives, too?” Her head lying back on the rest, she had a small smile on her face as she turned and looked at him. “I won’t ever be able to thank you, Jamie. Not ever.”

  He didn’t say a word, just sped as fast as he could to an exit he knew that took him to a road that led straight to the beach.

  “Why are we getting off?” she asked, as he exited the freeway. “Do we need gas?”

  He nodded. Shook his head. And drove.

  She didn’t say a word as he pulled into the partially full parking lot and stopped the SUV. A group of teenagers was unloading a cooler out of a van, heading toward the beach just yards away. The ocean roared to shore and receded in the distance.

  Unfastening his seat belt, he reached over to unbuckle hers, and then, leaving the console down between them, said, “You’re giving life to my son. So I found yours. You owe me nothing...”

  He didn’t want her gratitude.

  Her lips trembled as she teared up, and he noticed her hand cradle her belly. His son. Who she was caring for so carefully. Because that’s what she did. Never asking for any emotional sustenance for herself. Or expecting any.

  “I love you, Chris. With every fiber of my soul. That’s why I found your son. Not for anything for me, but because it’s what I know you needed. That’s what love is. And I might not live through the night, or I could live to
be a hundred, but I will always be loving you and doing everything in my power, wherever I am, to give you moments of joy. It would mean everything to me if you’d share my life with me, raise my son with me, but if not, I’ll still be loving you.”

  She shook her head, and he closed his eyes as his heart sank. And yet, it didn’t sink far. Because he’d done it. He’d given her what she’d needed most. And if that meant she went on and opened her heart to someone else somewhere down the road, then that would be enough.

  It would really be enough.

  Just like an enduring love minus jitters and emotional intensity had been enough of him for Emily?

  When her finger brushed against his mouth, and then up to the corner of his eye, he opened them to see her gazing at him, the look in those brown eyes so filled with emotion they glistened, but not with tears.

  “I’m not good at this, Jamie. I want to spend a life with you, to raise this baby with you. I don’t even know how to start. All I know is being alone.”

  With one hand he had the console up and was already reaching for her. “I can be patient,” he said, moving over as he pulled her to him, until they were away from the steering wheel and her pregnant self was on his lap. “And I have it on good authority that I’m an excellent teacher,” he said, knowing when to give her what she needed. In that moment, she was her father’s daughter. Needing a minute of distraction from an intensity she’d forgotten how to trust. To embrace.

  “I love you, Jamie Howe.”

  Her words dropped softly into the vehicle, wrapping around him. Words he hadn’t been sure he’d hear. Words he hadn’t been sure she’d ever be able to say.

  “I love you, too.” He didn’t bother to try to hide the tremor in his voice. Or the arms that held her.

  She nodded. Settled more firmly against him and said, “I want to wait to have sex with you until I’m just me again. I need to know you see me as me, not as his incubator...”

  “I’ve never seen you that way,” he interrupted. He’d done his own reading. About transference, too. But he also understood.

  Chris was Christine. She needed that part of herself. And more, the world needed her. She had a purpose that served far more than just him.

  “I was going to say that as long as you agree that there will be no sex until I’ve recovered from the birth, then it would probably make sense for you to move out of the cottage and storage and into the home that it looks like we’ll be sharing for the rest of our lives...my house.”

  He chuckled. He couldn’t help it. And then laughed out loud. Chris might be coming back to life, but Christine was right there with them. Just getting right down to the practical.

  “What?” she asked, pulling back.

  “You,” he told her, kissing her. Long and deep. Without any humor at all. And yet, he was pulsing with a euphoria all new to him. “If you’re okay with it, I’ll start moving in tomorrow. And I hope you have a room in mind for William Ryder’s nursery because I have a load of boxes to open and furniture to start putting together. Our son’s going to be here before we know it.” He placed his hand on her belly, and while she placed hers on top of it, she shook her head.

  “The next one will be ours, Jamie,” she said. “I will love William Ryder as much, I will mother him with all of my being, but he belongs to you and Emily. When he’s old enough to understand, he has to be told. And to honor her.”

  “I see it a different way,” he told her, tracing her lips with his finger. “I see us all back in high school. Emily is my best friend. And you’re my girlfriend. And the two of you meet through me, and form your own sisterly closeness. And together, the three of us, go out into the world and support each other throughout our lives, and love each other’s children.”

  “She’ll always be a part of us.”

  “Yes, and you’ll always be a part of us, too,” he said, not sure how that worked in the real world, but knowing that it all added up to him.

  And that his total was right.

  “Together. Forever. As a family.” Christine’s tone was firm.

  “Forever.” He knew the promise he was making.

  And that was real life—and it didn’t get better than that.

  * * *

  Don’t miss previous entries in The Parent Portal miniseries:

  Her Motherhood Wish

  A Baby Affair

  Having the Soldier’s Baby

  All available now from Harlequin Special Edition!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Baby Lessons by Teri Wilson.

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  Baby Lessons

  by Teri Wilson

  Chapter One

  Vermont hates me.

  It was an undeniable fact. Nothing had gone right in the ten days since Madison Jules had relocated from Manhattan to Lovestruck, Vermont. Not one single thing.

  Seriously, why?

  She squinted at her reflection in the mirror, trying to assess the situation as best she could in the semidarkness. Even without electricity, she could tell that it was bad. Half her hair was smoothed into a perfect glossy bob, while the other half was a mass of uncontrollable curls. And since the power clearly had no intention of returning, things probably weren’t going to improve anytime soon.

  Perfect. Just perfect. She was going to have to go to the office like this. But first, she was going to have to deal with whoever had decided to pound on her door at six thirty in the morning.

  Six thirty! If Vermont was an individual human instead of a geographic location, it would be a morning person. Yet another thing it didn’t have in common with Madison.

  “Coming!” She shuffled to the door in her favorite Kate Spade slippers—the cute velvet ones that said Eat Cake for Breakfast—and wrapped her polka dot robe more tightly around her frame. “Aunt Alice, if it’s you, do you have electricity up at the main house? Because I sure don’t.”

  It wasn’t her aunt, as Madison found out when she swung the door open to reveal a fireman dressed in full firefighter regalia—bulky jacket with reflective trim, heavy pants, scuffed black boots. A fire helmet was jauntily positioned on his head, perfectly angled to accentuate the scowl on his face.

  Maybe she wasn’t the only nonmorning person in Vermont, after all. Finally, someone who understood her.

  “Hi,” Madison said, peering past him in search of flames. Her aunt’s house looked perfectly unscathed, thank goodness. “Where’s the fire?”

  “In your apartment,” he said flatly.

  “What?” She shook her head. A copper ringlet from the left side of her hair fell across her eyes, and she blew it out of the way. “There’s no fire.”

  “I’m afraid there is,” he countered.

  Seriously? She would know if her own apartment was on fire. Perched in her aunt’s barn, it wasn’t exactly spacious—barely larger than her fourth-floor walk-up in New York. But very much unlike her former big city digs, her Vermont apartment was rent-free. So she had no problem whatsoever with its close quarters. Bonus: if any part of it were aflame, she would definitely know.

  “No, really. There’s not. I was in the middle of flat-ironing my hair and the electricity went out, that’s all.” She tilted her head to properly accentuate her hair’s good side.

  The fireman remained unimpressed. “A heat sensor in this building activated an alarm at the fire station. I need to come in and take a look around.”

  “Okay.” Madison blinked as she held the door open wide and he strode past her. “But...”

  He carried a fire extinguisher in one hand and an ax rested on one of his broa
d shoulders. How had Madison missed the ax? Her hair mishap was beginning to seem less and less important. It was official—Vermont had finally broken her.

  She shifted from one slippered foot to the other, acutely aware of just how ridiculous she must look. Probably because there was suddenly a cranky yet attractive fireman filling up the tiny space of her apartment. “Um. What’s with the ax? You’re not going to hack away at my walls, are you?”

  Because technically, they weren’t really her walls at all. They were Aunt Alice’s, and for some reason, it seemed like a bad thing to have them destroyed on her watch—even if the one doing the destroying was a heroic firefighter-type figure.

  Not that Firefighter Cranky Pants struck Madison as remotely heroic at the moment. Weren’t firemen supposed to be nice? Or at least somewhat pleasant? Particularly to people whose apartments were on—invisible—fire?

  “I cut off all power to the building,” someone said.

  Madison turned to see another burly man in weighty fireproof clothing standing in the doorway. Oh goody, there were two of them. At least this one was smiling at her.

  “Good morning, ma’am.” The new arrival nodded. “I assume Lieutenant Cole informed you that an alarm sounded at the station and up at the main house a few minutes ago?”

  “Sort of.” Madison shot an accusatory glare at the grumpy one—Lieutenant Cole, apparently—but he was too busy glowering at her flat iron to notice. “He mentioned an alarm, but I didn’t realize it went off at the main house.”

  Aunt Alice must have headed out for an early-morning coffee before opening up the yarn store she owned on Main Street. Had she been home, she definitely would’ve let Madison know a fire alarm had sounded.

  “The heat sensor for this building is wired to signal an alarm at the farmhouse rather than here.” The fireman made a circular motion with his pointer finger, indicating Madison’s living space. “The barn.”