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The Lawman's Secret Son
Lorraine Beatty
THE LAWMAN'S SECRET SONPolice officer Seth Montgomery knows all about order—but his world is thrown into chaos when he learns he has a five-year-old son. With little Jack suddenly in his care, Seth turns to neighbour Carrie Fletcher for help. Given her checkered past, Carrie prefers to keep to herself, but there’s no denying she cares for the boy—and her feelings for charming Seth are rapidly developing, too. When someone from Carrie’s past shows up threatening to jeopardise the life she’s worked so hard to build, Carrie will have to fight for her future with the new family she’s found…or risk losing everything.
Suddenly a Father
Police officer Seth Montgomery knows all about order—but his world is thrown into chaos when he learns he has a five-year-old son. With little Jack suddenly in his care, Seth turns to neighbor Carrie Fletcher for help. Given her checkered past, Carrie prefers to keep to herself, but there’s no denying she cares for the boy—and her feelings for charming Seth are rapidly developing, too. When someone from Carrie’s past shows up threatening to jeopardize the life she’s worked so hard to build, Carrie will have to fight for her future with the new family she’s found...or risk losing everything.
“It’s Jack’s birth certificate. This is good news, isn’t it?”
“Look at the line for parents’ names.”
She read from the document. “Mother, Paula Ann Schulman. Father, unknown. Oh, Seth...”
The look of sympathy in her eyes wrapped around him, chasing away the sharp edges of his disappointment. When she reached out and grasped his forearm with her small hand, the warmth of her touch spread through him like a warm summer breeze.
“I’m sorry. I was hoping this would be the answer you needed.”
He took her hand in his, gently squeezing her fingers. “Me, too. Now I’ll have to wait on the DNA results.”
“When is that due?”
“Not for a few more weeks.” He looked into her sky blue eyes and realized he didn’t want to break the contact. Carrie abruptly looked away and tugged her hand from his.
He shifted his position slightly, though it did nothing to diminish his acute awareness of her softness or her beauty.
LORRAINE BEATTY was raised in Columbus, Ohio, but now calls Mississippi home. She and her husband, Joe, have two sons and five grandchildren. Lorraine started writing in junior high and is a member of RWA and ACFW, as well as a charter member and past president of Magnolia State Romance Writers. In her spare time she likes to work in her garden, travel and spend time with her family.
The Lawman’s Secret Son
Lorraine Beatty
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
But you, Lord, do not be far from me.
You are my strength; come quickly to help me.
—Psalms 22:19
To my grandchildren, Drew, Anna, Addie, Casie and Chey. You are my most precious treasure.
Acknowledgments
Chaz McClain, director of children and
family ministries at Lakeside Presbyterian
EPC Church in Brandon, Mississippi, for
his help in steering me in the right direction
with my heroine’s job. Your help made
all the difference and is greatly appreciated.
Contents
Cover (#u24248049-605e-5ddb-9cc1-60c32204cbc6)
Back Cover Text (#ucf09b21a-4792-5e13-86a1-6ae947187982)
Introduction (#uf64293e6-a7cb-58df-8697-0940aa47740f)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#u7ed3b3f4-55b1-5f1f-9a20-8ed11f317929)
Title Page (#uedd70d1c-8472-500d-83ba-a0d5682d1ce2)
Bible Verse (#u68d3cbe6-9ccb-51f9-892a-b8c69ea835e6)
Dedication (#u549c1f8e-72c7-59c8-a03a-68848ac9f3d7)
Acknowledgments (#ue3c848b4-428d-5a22-ae59-c81059f9d11b)
Chapter One (#ua2d4e2c2-68ab-5dd6-9429-edc688222977)
Chapter Two (#ud45f0925-0d20-538f-a596-7c5730d493fd)
Chapter Three (#ue6adba34-aa4d-5efd-8342-0a1c8e854b19)
Chapter Four (#u52dffd0e-d912-5370-8393-688defbf370b)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u517610f7-f802-5ff4-95dd-2b9e9af92d40)
Carrie Fletcher quickened her steps across the walkway from the carport to the back door of her little cottage, inserted the key and stepped into her warmly lit kitchen. She never tired of coming home to this sweet little 1920s house. The soft glow from the lights under the cabinets kept the darkness at bay and welcomed her like a warm hug, as did the click of little claws on the tile floor as her five-year-old shih tzu, Leo, scurried to greet her. “Hey, sweetie. Were you a good boy today?”
After placing her purse and a sack of groceries on the table, she flipped the switch, bathing the kitchen in full light, instantly aware of the tension falling away from her shoulders. A long and hectic day had kept her at work until dark. Her job as Special Events Coordinator at Peace Community Church was both exhilarating and challenging. Especially now, when the historic edifice was celebrating 125 years as a house of God. The yearlong celebration would culminate with a huge citywide picnic at Friendship Park. Organizing such a massive event was keeping her busy every moment.
Tomorrow was her day off and she planned on taking full advantage by sleeping late and curling up with the book she was reading. The hero and heroine had been torn apart by a terrible disaster, and she couldn’t wait to see how they got back together.
A rush of happiness buoyed her spirits as she made her way through the small dining room and living room, turning up lights as she went and sending up a grateful prayer for her new life. She had a job she loved and a home of her own. She didn’t own it, but her savings were growing and one day she hoped to purchase a house.
She flipped the dead bolt on the front door and switched on the porch light, which popped, then went out, surrounding her in darkness. Her throat tightened. Inhaling a deep breath, she scolded herself for being such a wimp. Her mailbox was right outside the door. She’d only be in the dark for a second or two. After opening the door, she stepped out onto the porch. Movement on the other side of the rocker froze her in her tracks. The shadows made it hard to identify the shape. A dog? Cat? A man?
Heart pounding, she peered closer. The creature scooted backward. She froze, blood pounding in her ears. She fought the impulse to duck back inside. What if it was an injured animal? She couldn’t ignore that. Carrie forced herself to look closer. Two wide eyes looked back at her from a little face. A child. A little boy was huddled on her front porch. Fear slid quickly into concern. What was he doing here? Her mind raced through a dozen questions. She took a step toward the child. He scooted back against the wall, clutching a plastic grocery bag in his hands.
Slowly she stooped down, putting a smile on her face and keeping her voice calm and soothing. “Hello. My name is Carrie. What’s your name?” The big eyes blinked back at her.
The boy, whom she guessed to be about five years old, didn’t respond, only clutched his bag to his chest. “Are you cold? Hungry? Would you like a cookie?” He nodded. Carrie extended her hand, but he was reluctant to take it. “It’s okay. I’ll fix you some milk, too. Or how about hot chocolate? It’s chilly tonight.” It was late March in Mississippi and while the days were warming up, the evenings could still be very cold.
Slowly the child extended his hand and together they stood. When he lowered his precious sack, she saw a large note pinned to his chest. She prayed it held some answers.
The blazing lights inside her home calmed her racing pulse, and she made a mental note to replace the porch light as soon as she could. Leo greeted them, tail wagging rapidly. The boy stopped. “This is Leo. You can pet him if you’d like. He’s a good boy.”
The child only stared at her a moment, then backed away from the animal.
Guiding the boy toward her breakfast table, she reached for his sack, but he clutched it more tightly against his chest. She noticed he held a toy in his other hand, a small yellow truck, battered and bent with much of the paint worn away and a tire missing from one of the wheels. A long-ago memory exhumed itself. A shiny blue bracelet. The only thing that had ever belonged to her. She’d lost it somewhere along the way, but she’d cherished it much the same way the little boy did his truck.
Settling him onto a chair, she briefly rested her hand on the top of his head, surprised at how cool he felt. How long had he been on her porch? The thin jacket he wore was woefully inadequate for the weather. His jeans were threadbare and his sneakers worn through at the toes. Her heart ballooned with sympathy. She wanted to wrap him in her arms and make him warm and safe, but she doubted he’d let her do that.
She heated up a cup of water in the microwave, added a packet of cocoa, took two cookies from the jar and set them in front of the boy before joining him. “I see you have a note. It must be important. May I see it?”
He thought a moment, then nodded. Carrie unpinned the stained and crumpled paper. It was folded in half with the number 533 scribbled on it. As she read the short note inside, a swell of familiar anger formed.
Seth, I’m done. He’s your son and it’s time you did your part. He’s five years old. Do the math. I’m leaving the country. His name is Jack. Tiff
Seth. That was the name of her new neighbor, the man who had so kindly changed her flat tire last week. She’d labeled him a good guy—kind, charming and nice. She’d even felt a spark of attraction to his solid strength and boy-next-door smile. Apparently there was another side to the man—deadbeat dad. She would never understand how a man could father a child, then walk away. Still, she found it hard to believe Seth was that kind of man. It was a shame. He’d been so thoughtful and seemed so trustworthy. But then she was a terrible judge of character.
Carrie scanned the note once more, making sure she hadn’t missed something. Nope. The boy was Seth’s, and for whatever reason he’d been left on her doorstep. Well, this was a situation she was not going to get involved in. She watched Jack sipping the cocoa and taking small bites of the cookies as if wanting the experience to last. Her throat constricted. She knew that feeling. Memories, hot and stinging, shot through her system. She ached to hold the child and make sure he never felt this way again. But Jack wasn’t her responsibility. He was Seth’s.
Jack downed the last of his milk, wiped his sleeve across his little mouth, then stared at her. She forced a smile. “Jack. Do you know who left you here? Your mom, grandma or a friend?”
He stared back at her with the biggest cobalt blue eyes she’d ever seen. No. She’d seen them once before. Seth’s eyes were the same color. Only his eyes had crinkles at the corners and a warm, friendly light in them that drew people in.
Focus. She fingered the note again. “Jack, I think you’ve been left here by mistake. You should be next door. That’s where your...father lives. How about we go see him?”
Jack shrugged his bony shoulders and her throat tightened. The poor little guy was lost and afraid. From deep down, old hurts and fears coalesced into a ball of fury. This was the reason she was taking online classes to become a social worker. She vowed to help kids feel safe and protected. The way she’d never been. Part of her wanted to call the authorities, but the note clearly was intended for her neighbor and that’s where she would start.
Leo put his paws on Jack’s chair and whined. Jack reached down cautiously and touched the top of the dog’s brown-and-white head. Carrie wasn’t sure but she thought she heard a small giggle. The sound shot straight to her core, wrapping around her like a fast-growing kudzu vine. She stood. Time to get a grip, before she became more attached to the little fellow.
Holding on to Jack’s small hand, she walked across the front lawn and up onto Seth’s front porch. It was dark, the only light coming from deep inside the cottage. A chill chased up her spine. You are my strength. Darkness had never been her friend. But this wasn’t about her. This was about Jack. She would explain the mix-up, hand the boy over and be on her way. This was none of her concern. She smiled down at Jack and knocked firmly on the door. Very firmly.
The door swung open, and the outline of a man backlit from inside filled the doorway. He stood braced with feet apart. She swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. She’d forgotten how tall her neighbor was and how broad his shoulders were. In the shadowed light he seemed imposing. Her heart skipped a beat. Would he scare Jack?
The porch light flipped on and Seth met her gaze with a questioning frown. “Carrie? Hey. What brings you by tonight?” He glanced down at the child, his frown sliding into a curious smile. “Who’s your little friend?”
Carrie clenched her teeth. Really? The man didn’t even know his own son? This is why she’d vowed to steer clear of any romantic entanglements. Men were all totally irresponsible and self-absorbed. No matter how nice they might seem in the beginning, they would leave you in the end.
“He’s your son. But I guess not seeing him for a long time might make him hard to recognize.” She hadn’t intended to react in anger, but his indifference had sparked a nerve.
The warm smile vanished, replaced with a look of stunned shock before the dark brows drew together and the eyes narrowed. “I don’t know what kind of joke you’re playing, Carrie, but it isn’t funny.”
“No, it’s anything but funny. It’s tragic and irresponsible and unforgivable.”
Seth placed a hand on the doorjamb, leaning toward her, his scowl slightly threatening. “I don’t have a son. I’m not even married.”
Carrie rolled her eyes and, stooping down, gently turned Jack to face her. “This is your father, Jack. He’s going to take good care of you, okay?” Unable to stop herself, she gave him a hug, then angled him to face Seth and gave the boy a nudge forward. “He’s already had hot chocolate and cookies at my house, but you might want to fix him something nourishing to eat.” She tried not to glare in disgust but failed. “Good night.” She pivoted and started down the steps.
“Carrie.”
Jack ran after her, grabbing on to her hand for dear life. She looked down into his frightened eyes and her heart broke. “Oh, Jack. It’ll be all right. I promise.” She glanced up at Seth, who had stepped to the edge of the porch. The look on his face tugged at her heart, too. It was an unusual mixture of concern, longing and fear. Maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe he didn’t know about Jack. As she considered the possibility, Seth came and stooped down with them.
“Hey, Jack. Why don’t we all go inside and get warm, huh?”
With only a hint of hesitancy, Seth gently touched the child’s head before looking at Carrie with a pleading look in his eyes. It was the last thing she wanted to do, but she couldn’t simply turn the child over to the man without making sure Jack was okay. But she shouldn’t get involved. Her emotions were too easily captured by the abandoned and abused. She would have to keep her emotional guard up. She nodded and stood, holding on to the tiny hand. It hit her that she was looking to the child for strength when it should be the other way around. At the threshold Carrie stopped, sending a quick prayer heavenward for strength, because she had a feeling stepping into Seth’s home would set her on a path she’d avoided most of her life. Jack looked up at her with soulful eyes.
She’d be strong for Jack because no one understood what he was feeling like she did. She had no choice but to step inside.
* * *
Seth stood aside as his guests entered, the knot in his chest pressing so fiercely against his ribs it ached to draw breath. His thoughts darted in a dozen directions, trying to grasp something logical about Carrie’s announcement. The boy couldn’t possibly be his. He closed the door and moved to the living room, making a quick assessment of his lovely neighbor. She’d seemed nice and sweet the day he’d found her crouched down beside her small car staring at the deflated tire. Now he took a closer look. Was she a con artist? A mental case? It was his nature to question things, especially people. She didn’t look like she had a devious bone in her body. In fact, with her slender frame, her short, blond, feathery hair style and bright blue eyes she evoked thoughts of summer and sunshine. But as a cop he knew everyone had a dark side.
He rubbed his forehead. “Have a seat.”
Reluctantly, Carrie sat on the sofa, pulling the boy down beside her. The child had released Carrie’s hand, but his hand was now firmly wrapped around a toy he’d pulled from his pocket. The old Tonka truck looked like it had been through a war. In his other hand he grasped a dirty plastic grocery sack.
Seth stood near the fireplace facing the pair, taking a position of authority. “Now, you want to explain what’s going on here? What makes you think the boy is mine?”
Carrie pulled a paper from her pocket and handed it to him. “I’m sure this will clear everything up for you. It was pinned to his chest when I found him on my porch a short while ago.”
“What?” He took the note and read through it, his mind refusing to grasp the words. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be true. Not now, when he was finally making things right in his life. A lump of old shame and regret formed in his gut. He was a Montgomery. The son of a prominent and well-respected family in Dover. But he’d turned his back on his heritage and his values for a year of freedom that had quickly become a life of darkness and regret. Now that shameful time might have finally caught up with him.
He looked at Carrie, and the condemnation in her blue eyes stung. “I don’t understand any of this. And why was he left on your porch?”
She pointed to the number on the back of the paper he held, lowering her voice so Jack couldn’t hear. “Five thirty-three. That’s your house number. Mine is five thirty-five. I think whoever left him thought they were leaving him on your porch.”
That tidbit of information latched on to him like the talons of a hawk. “Tiff was dyslexic.” He muttered the words to himself, but Carrie pounced on them.
