The Secret Father

“Or the boy’s mother,” Zach said. “She was young. I know what kind of resources her family has, but I hate to think of what she went through, being a single mother because I disappeared.” He patted his pockets as if he were looking for something. “Olivia brought a picture, but I left it at home.” He pointed to the mantel in her living room. “He looks just like those.”

She turned her head slowly. She’d all but papered her house in photos of Ned and Zach. She hadn’t wanted her boy to forget his father. “He looks like you? Or your daddy?”

“So much like me you wouldn’t be able to tell our pictures apart.” He pointed toward the end of the table, at his kindergarten graduation photo above a dried-flower arrangement. “He’s that old.”

She stared at the picture, taking time to let Zach’s news sink in. Ned, as tall as Zach was now, but already more gray about the head than blond, had hoisted their son in miniature cap and gown to his shoulder. As proud as if their Zach had finished Harvard magna cum laude. Good thing, because he’d been gone twelve years by the time Zach finished college on the government’s dime.

She shook her head. “How’d you even meet someone like her? That family hardly keeps our kind of company.”

“After she told me about Evan I didn’t think to ask for details.” His haggard expression was painful to see, but he turned away, rejecting her concern for a swig of his beer. “I left on my last mission before she could tell me she was pregnant, and then she saw my picture in the news. Her father tried to get more information out of the Navy, but Kendall was the last person they wanted to see, and they didn’t know about Olivia—any more than she knew what I was really doing. She never heard I survived until she saw a report on the bank robbery.”

“My God.”

He took his chair again, his moving body pushing the heavy oak table away. “Yeah.”

“Is she looking for support?” A mother’s protectiveness sharpened her voice. For once, Zach didn’t seem to notice.

“Olivia Kendall,” he repeated, as if her name said it all.

It did.

“Still, I owe my son support.”

True. “What else does she want?”

“A father for Evan.” He stood again, his meal forgotten as he strode the creaking wooden floor. “That’s what she says.”

After Helene, it was a hard concept to follow. “Do you believe her?”

“I think so.” He lifted a troubled gaze. “I have to because I want to see him. I don’t know if Evan needs me, but I’m shocked that I’ve had a son for five years. He’s at an age where it must be obvious he’s different from other boys and girls.”

“Nonsense. We don’t live in that world anymore. People divorce now. Unwed mothers keep their children. He won’t have…”

“You see his life through an adult’s eyes. I’m trying to look through his.” He turned. “And I need to know if you can be his grandmother—if you can love him as much as you love Lily.”

“You have to ask?” He’d lost his ability to trust, along with those memories that had disappeared in his injuries. She worshiped her granddaughter. “I value every second with Lily, just as you do, and I’ll love your boy as much. Let’s ask Olivia and—” She broke off. “You said his name is Evan?” He nodded. “Let’s invite them to your gran and grandpa’s anniversary celebration.”

Seth and Greta Calvert had loved her like a daughter. They’d made her part of their family the day Ned had brought her to these mountains, and since then they’d all claimed countless other “marry-ins.” They’d claim Olivia and Evan, too, and make them welcome.

“I just hope we don’t overwhelm him.” Beth assumed Zach agreed with her plan, without giving him time to differ. “Does his mother have family I might not have read about?”

“Only her father.” Distraction distanced Zach’s voice. “She named Evan for me, Mom. His middle name is Zachary.”

Red-rimmed eyes described the gratitude he obviously couldn’t voice. He already knew how to love this child who’d appeared out of the past he couldn’t explain or defeat.

She went to him. “He’s in Chicago?”

Zach nodded.

“When do you go?” Since the day he’d come home to heal, she hated to see Zach leave the safety of Bardill’s Ridge.

“Tomorrow morning.” He looped his arm around her shoulders. “Warn the rest of the family to treat Evan and Olivia right? Remind them not to confuse her with Helene.”

“We’re all protective of you.” She hugged him briefly. He hardly ever allowed more. “If she’s good to you, we’ll love her.”

He let her go and scooped up Spike, who inexplicably began kneading his fellow loner’s shoulder. “No,” Zach said. “You’ll love her because Evan will feel more accepted if you do.” With a last pat for Spike as he set him on a padded kitchen chair, he headed for her door. “I’ll call you from Chicago.”

“Are you bringing him home?”

“Chicago is his home. I thought he’d have an easier time if we met where he’s comfortable, but while I’m there, I’ll arrange visitation with Olivia.”

“Another visitation agreement?”

He nodded, a frown creasing his forehead. “Or something like it. Olivia seems to believe we should take decisions slowly. I have no intention of losing contact with my son, now that she’s told me about him, but I figure we’ll fight the battle of how often I get to see him when it comes.”

Hardly good news, but she stomped down hard on her opinions. Zach stopped at the door.

“Everything will be fine, Mom.”

He offered the same reassurance every time he left town. He expected no answer. He was only promising he wouldn’t die when he left Bardill’s Ridge. Obviously, she knew something could happen, but he was a good son to try to persuade her not to worry.

She added some comfort of her own to her “I know” smile. When he came back they’d all find a way to live with another custody arrangement. She waved him off, and he tried to smile back, but his hard-edged face lingered in her mind after the door slammed at his back.

She slumped against the table. Apart from the fact that he’d clearly been reckless six years ago, he didn’t deserve all this. A past that wouldn’t let him alone and a child who’d been a secret from him. When would Fate let up on her son?

She reached for the phone to circle the family wagons for support.

THE MOON BARELY LIT his way as he got out of his car in front of the Dogwood, his uncle Patrick and aunt Eliza’s bed-and-breakfast. His cousin Molly erupted from the front door, flying as fast as one of her roguish kindergarten students. On seeing his truck she stopped short. As she waited for him to climb out her smile bent the other way into a frown.

“What’s up, Zach? Something bugging you?”

“Sort of.” He wrapped an arm around her waist, at ease with being Molly’s hero. No matter what he did, he’d maintained his status with her since Patrick and Eliza had made her their foster child. No small feat, considering the neglected life she’d endured until they rescued her. “Where are you headed in such a hurry?”

“Parent-teacher conferences at school tonight. I have to change clothes.” She slapped her jeans. Molly, the hellion Aunt Eliza had saved from reform school liked to appear demure in front of her students’ parents.

“You’d better go,” he said, laughing, “if you plan to reach your classroom before midnight.”

“Ha ha ha.” She caught his arm as he tried to pull away. “That was homage to your lousy sense of humor. Now explain your problem.”

“I have no problem.” He had to talk to Olivia. His mom would cover the family bases for him.

Molly’s smile faded again. “You’re scaring me.”

Calverts large and small had treated him as if he were on the verge of a breakdown since the accident. Maybe if he’d managed a happier marriage, maybe if he and Helene could be civil to each other… “I’m fine, but I have to talk to one of your mom’s guests before she goes to bed.”

“Ah.” She glanced at a second-floor window bordered with Victorian gingerbread that their cousin Sophie’s father had carved during Patrick and Eliza’s restoration of the old building. “Olivia. I just took her fresh towels and bath oil.” Molly slipped him a sidelong, sisterly glance. “Or was that for you, too?”

He looked away from her, as distracting, erotic pictures of Olivia formed in his head. “I hope the parents and the other teachers don’t know you talk like that.” He ruffled Molly’s hair, but she surprised him with a hug rather than the karate chop she usually dispensed for such a gesture.

“If you don’t explain, I’ll only ask your mom.” She headed for her car, waving goodbye over her head. “I’ll bet she needs firewood.”

“I already carried in enough for the whole winter.”

“I’ll paint her kitchen.”

“If you can persuade her to give up that classic wallpaper.”

Molly tossed a condescending glance over her shoulder, but he only grinned. Crazy Molly. Early on, trying to survive after her natural parents had pretty much abandoned her, she’d damn near destroyed the school where she taught now. Aunt Eliza and Uncle Patrick had transformed her from a dangerous punk into family. Still, it was a good thing his mom had plenty of leftovers. Molly could eat her weight in homemade chili.

Zach climbed the steps a few at a time and pushed through the B&B’s front door. His aunt looked up from the registration desk, sliding her hand through salt-and-pepper hair that brushed her shoulders.

“Evening, Zach. Beth said you were on your way.”

“That was fast work, even for Mom. Which room, Aunt Eliza?”

“Top of the stairs, immediate left.”

“Thanks.”

“Better hurry. Molly just took her some bath oil.”

He ran up the stairs. At Olivia’s door, he paused, his hand raised to knock. Even through the thick wood, he heard water running. He banged with extra force.

A moment later, Olivia opened the door, black hair flying, eyes wide. She opened her mouth in a throaty gasp. “Zach.” Her hands went to the pale pink lapels of her robe.

It was hardly sexy attire, but he found himself imagining the warm body that curved beneath the terry cloth. By the time he met her gaze, a glacier had formed in the icy gray eyes that were quickly becoming his obsession.

“I want to meet Evan,” he said.

The ice melted. She seemed to reach for him without lifting a finger. “Do you want to know Evan?”

“I’m his father. He’s my son.”

“That’s not good enough. I’ve kept him safe—and happy enough—for five years. I need to hear plain talk.”

“I want to be Evan’s father for the rest of my life. I want to hear him call me dad.”

Smiling, she let the robe go. He noticed the swell of lightly tanned flesh between the open lapels, but he was man enough to know their son mattered more than lust.

“We’re in this together,” he said. “I want to know Evan.”

She grabbed his hand—to shake it of all things. He stared at her small, strong fingers. It was an odd way to start a relationship with your son’s mother.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE NEXT MORNING, Zach followed Olivia back to the airport in Knoxville. All the way down the mountain road his heart hammered. Sweat beaded on his lip again and again. His body’s natural response to an unnatural fear was about to reveal one of his most humiliating secrets to Olivia. Zach Calvert, former Navy pilot, was terrified of flying.

Forcing himself to ignore the fact he had to get on a plane, he concentrated on Evan waiting at the other end of the flight. Meeting his son was worth a couple of hellish hours.

At the airport, Olivia veered off to return her rental car while Zach parked in a lot. They’d agreed to meet at the ticket counter. Tall and confident as ever, she was easy to spot. Too easy.

They checked in without talking to each other and then headed for their gate. Walking at her side, he noticed how the other travelers stared.

Her poise and her flawless face, an aristocratic, elegantly drawn nose, and her intelligent gaze vied with the tousled confusion of long black hair. She drew attention partly because she didn’t seem to know she was suck-the last-breath-from-your-lungs gorgeous.

Zach had nothing to set on the security conveyor belt, but he waited while Olivia pushed her briefcase and her purse through.

Her poise made him more aware of his Achilles’ heel. A smart guy would have rejected her offer to arrange for seats together. A smart guy wouldn’t let a self-assured woman who’d been in sole charge of his son for the past five years discover he was afraid of flying.

They cleared security with more than an hour to wait for their flight. Olivia was already fishing work out of her briefcase as they closed in on their gate. Zach held back. He couldn’t sit there for sixty minutes without throwing up.

“I’m going to look for a paper,” he said. “And a coffee. Want one?”

“Sure. With cream and sugar.” Sitting, she pushed a pen behind her ear. “Wait— Will you make that half-and-half?”

Nodding, he turned, breathing easier the more distance he put between them. How was he going to pretend to be normal on the plane?

He took his time and passed the coffee shop twice before he turned in. A teenager in a cap and acne came to the counter and threw him a look that asked for his order.

“A bottle of water.” Last thing he needed was caffeine. “And a large coffee. With half-and-half.”

“The milk and stuff’s over there,” the kid said. “That’ll be seven-fifty.”

“Thanks. Do you have newspapers?”

“Beside the milk and the stir sticks. You pay here. That’ll cost you another fifty cents.”

Zach paid and tucked the paper beneath his arm. He stirred sugar and half-and-half into Olivia’s coffee and started back to the gate. She didn’t look up until he sat beside her. Even then she just reached for the cup.

“Thanks.” She sipped. “Perfect. I thought you wanted coffee, too.” She might not be looking at him, but she saw too much for his peace of mind.

“I reconsidered.” He unscrewed his water bottle’s cap and guzzled half the contents. It didn’t help.

Olivia checked the time. “We’ll be boarding soon. Maybe we should discuss what we intend to tell Evan.”

“Discuss what?” He felt his face harden. “There’s no argument. We tell him who I am.”

“From the start? What if you change your mind?”

He stared at her. Who did she see when she looked at him? “Did you ever change your mind about wanting Evan?”

She let her mouth open slightly, showing surprise. The moisture on her full lower lip made breathing a little harder for Zach.

“You can’t appreciate what you just said.” The joy in her smile made him glad, whatever it was. “I’m never sure I’m the best mom Evan could have. I have to work. He spends time in day care. Even my father assumed I wouldn’t want to be a mother when I was so young, but you assumed I never considered an alternative.”

His throat went tight. For a moment, it was as if he could almost remember her, as if the feelings they’d shared were there, on the fringes of what felt real to him now. “Maybe I can’t imagine you not wanting to keep our son.”

She widened her gaze. “Well, you’d be right.” As if the subject had grown too personal, she busied herself with the pages in her lap.

“You’re uncomfortable discussing your pregnancy with me.”

She nodded. “It’s all still as real as if it just happened to me, but to you I’m a stranger. I loved being pregnant, feeling Evan grow, even though I—” She stopped, her face pink with a blush. “I missed you.”

“I was angry for a long time about what happened, but I thought I was getting over it.” He wiped his mouth, his resentment an old, no-longer-welcome partner.

“Why did they give you so much training for one mission?” She was thoughtful. He was surprised she hadn’t asked before.

He glanced at the empty seats around them. “I was assigned to do that kind of work from then on, but I was chosen for that flight because Kimberly Salva was a friend.” His whole body seemed to tighten as he pictured Kim, idealistic, smarter than he’d ever be, full of fire for her own career. “We went to the Academy together.”

Olivia drew back. “I don’t mean to pry, but you’re angry when you talk about her. You were just friends?”

He nodded. “She was a year behind me. I’m angry because I lost her. She had a husband and a two-year-old daughter, and she trusted me.”

“And you’re not over it yet?”

He considered lying. His own child’s mother deserved the truth. “Maybe I never will be. I get to meet my son. Her daughter will never see her again. It’s not fair that I lived when I couldn’t save her.” Olivia’s scratching pen drew his gaze. She was outlining the same abstract, many-pointed doodle so hard the page looked ready to tear. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“No.” But her glossy black hair hid her face from him.

“I’m not going to hurt Evan. I only lose control with people who want to kill the citizens I’m trying to protect.”

“You’re joking, but people don’t make jokes like that without a little bit of honesty.”

He curved his hand around her wrist, making sure to touch only where her black blazer covered her skin. “I’m telling you the truth. I wouldn’t hide anything that might affect Evan. I’ve explained my problems with Helene. I don’t want you and me to have difficulties. I’m a good father to Lily, and I’ll be a good father to Evan.”

“I should have seen you with her. Not seeing you together was a mistake.”

“I didn’t tell her,” he said.

“Thanks.” She sagged against her chair, clearly deep in thought about how much fathering a wounded man could do. He couldn’t keep assuring her of his reliable mental health. He’d start to sound crazy. A sudden thought brought Olivia upright again. “What if Lily or Helene find out about Evan through the papers?”

“They won’t. Helene doesn’t read them, and I never saw her watch the news.”

“What if someone else tells her?”

“Leland—her husband—is a reasonable guy. He’ll figure out the facts and hold Helene back until I get in touch. He won’t let her say something hurtful to Lily.”

“You trust her new husband more than you trust her?”

“We didn’t know each other when we got married.” How well had he known Olivia?

She turned away, leading him to believe she’d experienced broken trust. With a painful start, he realized he’d taught her that lesson. She’d trusted him.

“I didn’t mean to leave you,” he said.

“Your amnesia makes it no easier for me. I tell myself over and over that you won’t just abandon Evan, but if you’re not good to him, I’ll—”

Ahhh. He understood rage. Though she sputtered to a halt, her vehemence drew him closer.

The vulnerable curve of her lips fascinated him. He’d made love to her and yet he had no memory of her mouth’s firm, tempting texture. She knew secrets about him, about them together that he might never remember.

Her mouth twisted into a smile, and he dragged his gaze back to hers. “Can’t think of a threat?” he asked. When she looked serious, he regretted teasing her.

“I won’t need a threat if you hurt my son.”

“Our son.”

Her expression, stony, determined, and not in the least wary of him, was all too familiar. She like Helene did when she was about to announce he’d broken her rules and to hell with the ones in the custody agreement. He knocked back the rest of his water. They finished their wait in a troubled state of truce. It was almost a relief when the attendant began to call their flight.

He stayed behind Olivia as they handed over their boarding passes and entered the jetway’s gaping maw. His feet grew heavier, but he forced himself to keep walking.

Inside the narrow passage, his heart thudded in his ears. He felt as if he might plod right through the flimsy flooring. At last, the door of the aircraft came into view, along with a few precious inches of daylight around the gate’s edges. He could see himself pushing through the plastic material and jumping to the ground. A broken leg or two would be worth escape.

The flight attendant eyed him with concern, but passed him through. To first-class. Which he couldn’t afford.

He hung back when Olivia offered him the choice of aisle or window, with no idea he had a problem. Behind him, the rest of the first-class crowd began muttering at their unaccustomed delay.

“I can’t pay for this.” He grasped exactly how different their worlds were. How different they’d look to Evan.

“Fortunately, I can, so it’s not a problem for either of us.” She passed him her briefcase. “Could you put this…”

Before he answered, another attendant took her case. “May I take your jacket, sir?” she asked.

Olivia settled into the window seat. As if the cost of the ticket was no big deal. He’d bet on it being at least three of his car payments. He shrugged off his jacket and surrendered it. As he sat and latched on to the seat belt with sweating hands, Olivia nodded his way.

“You’re doing me a favor. Forget about the cost.”

“Being my son’s father isn’t a favor. I’m in this for good—you’d better get used to it.”

“I meant for now, coming with me when you don’t really know who I am. I probably would have asked for a DNA test.”

The idea startled him. “I didn’t think of it. The pictures… I can’t deny his face.” He rubbed his hands down the thighs of his jeans.

She smiled and he had the feeling he’d passed some test. Little did she know. She had no experience sharing custody. They both faced plenty of tests to come.

“I have videotapes we’ve been making since the day he was born, and a library full of photo albums.”

“I’d like to make copies.” As he spoke the plane rocked. He turned to the aisle, gripping the armrests to hide his shaking hands.

“Sure.” Olivia looked him up and down. “Are you all right?”

Grunting an affirmative, he managed to ease breath in and out at regular intervals. His humiliation was complete when the kid in front of him sat up on his knees to peer at Zach.

“You sick, mister? I always use that bag down there.” He slithered over the back of the seat to reach for the one in front of Zach. “You’ll be okay.”

The kid’s mom snatched him down so hard he seemed to disappear. Zach glanced at Olivia, whose close scrutiny made him feel weak.

He waved off an offer of wine and sensed Olivia doing the same. The floor rumbled beneath them as the engines powered up and then down. Flaps opened and closed as the pilots went through their preflight checks. Zach’s mouth dried like a desert in a drought.

He studied the stuff sticking out of the seat pocket. He might have to grab one of those bags.

At the first hint of movement he closed his eyes. When the jet jerked backward, his sweating palms slid off the armrests. A hand closed over his. He opened his eyes, biting back a shout.

It was Olivia, of course. She pulled his hand into her lap and deliberately threaded their fingers together. Her touch was more warmth and comfort than he’d known in six years. More than he had a right to know, considering.

“You don’t have to pretend.” Her low, liquid voice intoxicated more quickly than strong wine. “I know about being scared. When I heard you’d died, I tried to pretend I was strong, but I was terrified my dad would fire me and throw me out. He’s terribly proud of our name, and I knew he’d be ashamed of me. I’d always lived a spoiled, easy kind of life, but food and clothing and car seats and immunizations felt beyond my reach. Can you imagine Evan or Lily going to bed hungry because you’d been foolish?”

“Why are you telling me this?” She’d hardly been an adult herself when he’d left her pregnant and alone. Not having known didn’t seem to ease his guilt any more than it made her feel better.

“I told you because we don’t trust each other yet.” Each word came out under strain. “I can’t forget you disappeared, and you’ve had a bad time I can’t imagine and a bad marriage that makes you think a woman can’t share a child with his father. I just learned something about you that you’d rather I hadn’t, and I thought if I gave you something equally personal, we could skip a few steps learning about each other.” She squeezed his hand with a shrug that didn’t quite look casual. “And I know how it feels to believe every breath is the last one you’re going to squeeze past the boulder on your chest.”