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Turning away, she grabbed the handle of a freshly brewed pot of coffee and a couple of packets of creamer. She tossed the packets on the counter and tipped the pot to fill Simon’s mug.
At the same instant, Nathan let out a mighty squall of discontent, signaling that he’d had just about as much time in the playpen as he could handle. Startled, Kit splashed hot coffee on the counter, barely missing Simon’s hand. A moment of silence settled over the diner, followed by a ripple of laughter among the customers still left there, most of whom were used to Nathan’s occasional and understandable demands for attention.
“Sorry,” Kit murmured, taking a damp cloth from under the counter.
As she mopped up the mess she’d made, she watched Simon surreptitiously from under her lowered lashes. He had been as startled as she by the child’s cry, and quite naturally he had looked over at the playpen, seeming to notice it for the first time since he’d sat at the counter.
Initially, the expression on his face was one of curiosity. But then his features shifted, reflecting surprise, and then genuine confusion.
It was one thing to see a little boy standing in a playpen, in a place where you’d never seen one in the past, waving a teddy bear at you. It was something else altogether to see a little boy with silky black curls and brilliant blue eyes—a little boy who was, obviously and undeniably, a much smaller, much younger image of your very own self.
Kit clutched the coffee-soaked cloth in both hands, now staring openly at Simon as the color drained from his face. He made a sound, low in his throat and unintelligible to her ears. Finally he shifted his gaze to her once again. Still seemingly bewildered, he stared at her wordlessly for several interminable seconds.
To Kit, the resemblance between father and son was impossible to miss. Yet Simon didn’t seem to get the connection. Or maybe he just didn’t want to get it, she thought with a hot flash of anger.
“So, Kit, you’ve had a new addition to your family?” he asked at last, an odd croak in his voice as he gestured in Nathan’s general direction.
“In a way, yes,” Kit replied, barely managing to hide her annoyance.
He had to be in deep denial to think Nathan was her biological child. That kiss on the lips he’d given her a few minutes ago was the closest she had ever gotten to having sex with him. How could he possibly think she’d produced a child who looked just like him?
“The little boy in the playpen is your son, then,” he said, visibly relaxing as he sat back on his stool.
“He is now.”
“What do you mean by that? Is he your son or isn’t he?” Again, Simon seemed confused and just a little exasperated.
Her anger flaring once more, Kit directed a hard look Simon’s way. He just didn’t get it—more likely didn’t want to get it. But eventually he would, now that he was back in town.
Though Lucy had never broadcast the identity of Nathan’s father, once Nathan had begun to develop distinctive features it was clear that the baby could, in fact, be Simon’s. It wouldn’t take long for someone to yank Simon out of his blissful, self-indulgent ignorance. Disgusted as she was with him, Kit didn’t see any reason why she shouldn’t be that someone.
“Nathan is my son now,” she said again. “But Lucy Kane was his birth mother. Unfortunately, she was killed in an automobile accident at the end of February. I’m his legal guardian and I’ve been taking care of him ever since.” She took a deep breath, trying to shake the nervous quiver from her voice. “I’ve also taken the necessary steps to adopt him, and according to my attorney, Isaac Woodrow, the court will likely approve my petition within the next few weeks.”
“That little boy is Lucy Kane’s son?” Simon repeated slowly.
His astonishment was more than evident as his gaze shifted from Kit to Nathan, then back to Kit again. She doubted he had heard what she’d said about the adoption.
“Yes, he’s Lucy’s son.”
“But Lucy was killed in an automobile accident in February?”
Simon repeated her words yet again, appearing to be even more stunned.
“She was out late at night, heading home from a party at a house on Flat Head Lake. Her car hit a patch of black ice. She skidded off the road and hit a tree.
Simon looked as if he’d been dealt a physical blow. His face paled even more as he gripped the counter with both hands. Undeniable anguish shadowed his vivid blue eyes. He seemed to be not only stunned, but also badly shaken as his gaze shifted to Nathan yet again.
He tried to speak and failed. Then, without another word to Kit, he pushed away from the counter, turned on his heel and strode to the front door of the diner. He paused there, head bent and shoulders slumped, his hand on the knob. Finally, he glanced back at Nathan one last time. Then he opened the door and walked out.
Kit wasn’t sure how she had expected Simon to respond to her revelations. Listening to the echo of the door slamming shut, she knew only that the pain shadowing his gaze in those last moments before he’d left hadn’t been feigned. In fact, the honesty of his anguish had taken her totally and completely by surprise.
She had already acknowledged the possibility that he hadn’t heard about Lucy’s death. And considering his past history with her, Kit had assumed the news would cause him at least a small measure of dismay. But the look on his face had revealed a much deeper torment.
How could that possibly be when he had abandoned Lucy almost three years ago, then hadn’t shown the least bit of interest in her welfare or that of his child any time since?
In fact, Simon’s reaction had been more in line with that of a man who had not only just discovered that he had a son, but also that the love of his life had died. That level of devastation didn’t make the least bit of sense to Kit. She knew that Lucy had told Simon she was pregnant. Lucy had said as much to Kit three years ago. And instead of providing for Lucy and the baby, Simon had left her to cope alone.
How could he now act like the injured party? It just didn’t make any sense.
And, of course, he would walk away without a single word of explanation. Although that particular response wasn’t quite as surprising to Kit as it could have been. He had walked away from his responsibilities once already, and he had stayed away three long years.
Only this time Kit had a feeling Simon Gilmore wasn’t going to disappear completely. There had been something about the look in his eyes before he’d finally left the diner that had warned her he would be back again. He would want to think before he acted, but when he acted—
“So the prodigal son has come back to town, and about time, too,” Winifred Averill said as she stepped up to the counter. “Can’t say I’m surprised. ’Course, he didn’t stick around here very long once he caught sight of the youngster, did he?”
“Not very long at all,” Kit agreed.
Drawn from her reverie, she tossed the damp cloth into the sink under the counter and crossed to the cash register to ring up the elderly woman’s bill.
“Sorry I never got back to your table with the coffeepot.”
“I didn’t really need any more caffeine. I’m jittery enough as it is. Anyway, you had your hands full.” Mrs. Averill chuckled as she dug her coin purse from the pocket of her denim jacket.
“Yes, actually I did.”
“I expect he’ll be back soon enough. Best you be prepared,” the elderly woman advised with a knowing look, as she paid her bill.
The ding of the bell over the diner’s front door as Winifred turned away from the counter had Kit looking up with apprehension. She knew she would have to face Simon again eventually, but she had hoped it wouldn’t be quite so soon.
To her relief, it was Bonnie Lennox, her friend and part-time waitress, who sailed into the diner, her blond curls bouncing on her shoulders, her brown eyes bright and cheerful.
“Hello, all,” Bonnie called out.
The few remaining customers sent out a chorus of greetings, while Mrs. Averill gave her a friendly pat on the arm as she passed by on her way out. Kit shot her friend a grateful smile, then crossed to the playpen, scooped Nathan into her arms and gave him a hug.
“Busy morning?” Bonnie asked as she grabbed a red apron from the hook just inside the kitchen doorway and tied it over her denim skirt and navy T-shirt.
“Not too bad. How was Allison’s graduation?”
“She looked so cute in her little cap and gown, and she won an award for best artwork.” Bonnie’s grin couldn’t have been any prouder, but then a worried frown creased her forehead as her expression turned serious. “I thought I saw Simon Gilmore sitting in a black SUV parked at the curb half a block down the street. Were my eyes deceiving me, or has he dared to show his handsome face in town again?”
“Oh, he’s definitely back in town. In fact, he was just in the Dinner Belle a few minutes ago,” Kit said.
“And?” Bonnie prompted, eyeing Kit with obvious dismay.
“He didn’t know about Lucy.”
“Did he see Nathan?”
“Yes, he saw Nathan, but he seemed really…shocked. Like he didn’t know his own son existed.”
“How could that possibly be?”
“I don’t honestly know. But the way he acted today didn’t jibe at all with the way Lucy said he acted three years ago.”
“What did he say?” Bonnie asked.
“Not a lot,” Kit replied. “Mostly he just asked questions. He seemed surprised by my answers, too. Very surprised. But he didn’t offer an explanation of any kind. He just got up and left without a word.”
“Do you think he’ll cause a problem with Nathan’s adoption?”
“I don’t know,” Kit answered, averting her gaze as she headed back to the kitchen, Bonnie trailing after her in sympathetic silence.
Only she had a feeling—a bad feeling—that she did know, and what she knew had her holding on to Nathan just a little tighter and with a lot more anxiety than she ever had before.
Chapter Two
S everal realizations spun out one after another in Simon Gilmore’s mind, rolling and tumbling into a stunning confusion of incredibly unbelievable information. Time ticked away slowly, one minute to the next, but he couldn’t stir himself to do anything more than sit at the steering wheel of his shiny new SUV and stare out the windshield, his gaze unfocused.
With a few devastatingly simple statements, Kit Davenport had turned his blissful little world upside down. Seeing her in the diner had triggered a youthful exuberance in him, and kissing her had seemed only natural. But then she’d brought him up to date quickly and concisely. Each of her revelations had been upsetting individually—taken altogether, the intensity of them had numbed him, heart and soul.
To hear that lovely, lively Lucy Kane had died suddenly, tragically, in an automobile accident saddened Simon deeply. Though she cut him to the quick three years ago, they had shared a lot of good times together. And lately the pain of their last parting had tempered so that the mere thought of her no longer caused his gut to twist in anguish.
He had actually been looking forward to seeing her again during his unexpected and hastily arranged trip home. Finally ready to move past her betrayal of his trust, he had hoped to gain the closure he needed to the relationship they’d once shared.
But he was never going to see Lucy Kane again, and there would be no closure for him now. Instead he found himself standing on the edge of a precipice with unforeseen and truly incredible possibilities opening out before him.
Simon had seen enough photographs of himself at an early age to know that the little boy he’d seen in the Dinner Belle Diner was his spitting image. He was also living proof that Lucy’s betrayal had been so much more deliberate and so much more despicable than he’d ever imagined.
Nathan Kane had to be the child Lucy had carried during her pregnancy three years ago. But Lucy had looked him in the eye that long-ago August night and insisted the baby wasn’t his. She had urged him—oh-so-blithely—to accept the job he’d been offered as a photojournalist for the Seattle Post following his graduation from graduate school. She had even said that he shouldn’t give her or the baby another thought because there was someone else in her life she had come to love more than him.
Had Lucy been telling him the truth as she thought she knew it? Simon wondered now. Had she really been having sex with another man that summer? She’d been so sure he wasn’t the one to get her pregnant, and he had been careful about using condoms…most of the time. Or had she lied to him intentionally?
Simon had wanted to marry Lucy three years ago and take her with him to Seattle, and Lucy had seemed to want what he wanted during those long, lazy days of their last summer together. But then she had dropped her bombshell on him. Not only was she pregnant, she was pregnant with another man’s child.
Devastated, Simon had gone away to lick his wounds, and he had stayed away till now, feigning disinterest in his hometown and the people there whenever one or the other of his parents brought up the subject.
His parents—
Muttering a curse under his breath, Simon understood at last the urgency behind his father’s insistence that he return to Belle immediately to take care of “family business.” Mitchell Gilmore hadn’t bothered to explain in detail the exact nature of the business. He had simply ordered Simon to come home at once, an order his mother, Deanna, had issued, as well, her tone holding an angry edge he’d never heard in her voice even during the most rambunctious of his teenage years.
Luckily he’d had vacation time coming—almost four weeks accumulated over the past couple of years. Traveling all over the world to shoot photographs and to write stories for the paper, he hadn’t really wanted or needed to get away from the office the way many of his fellow journalists did.
A good thing, too, he admitted now. Sorting out the situation he faced here in Belle was definitely going to take more than the week he’d originally anticipated having to spend at the ranch.
Simon had known a confrontation of some sort would be awaiting him when he arrived at the spacious, sprawling, one-story house built of cedar logs and stone twenty miles east of town. That was the main reason why he’d stopped first at the Dinner Belle Diner for a last bracing cup of coffee, a plate of eggs and bacon and a couple of Dolores Davenport’s homemade buttermilk biscuits.
No matter what news his parents had for him, he would have been better able to deal with it after a late breakfast at the diner where he’d enjoyed many similar meals since he was…well, Nathan’s age.
His thoughts turning again to the little boy who surely had to be his son, Simon finally understood the urgency and the anger he’d heard in his parents’ voices when they’d finally caught up with him two days ago. They must have only just realized themselves that the orphaned child left in Kit Davenport’s care was his son, their grandson.
And when they did, they must have assumed, as Kit so obviously had, that he had not only left Belle, but also stayed away the past three years, to avoid his responsibility to Lucy and their baby.
But that wasn’t true at all. He would have never abandoned Lucy or his child. He had fancied himself in love with her back then, and though he had since realized he’d been more infatuated with her freedom of spirit than anything else, he would have gladly married her.
She was the one who had ended their relationship, and she had done so in a way guaranteed to drive him out of her life for good.
But why had she treated him so hurtfully? Simon wondered. Had she been sexually intimate with another man? Had she really believed that he—Simon—wasn’t the father of her child?
He wouldn’t have thought she’d had the time or energy to fit another man into her life three years ago. They had been together every spare minute they’d had that summer. Kit Davenport, Lucy’s best friend, had spent a lot of time with them, too.
Kit and Lucy had been extremely close, sharing all sorts of intimate secrets. And if Kit’s hostility toward him in the diner was any indication, then she had been led to believe that he’d known he was Nathan’s father all along—
A sharp rap, rap, rap against the SUV’s driver’s-side window startled Simon out of his reverie. Turning, he saw Winifred Averill staring at him, an accusatory look in her eyes as the morning breeze ruffled her mop of frizzy iron-gray curls.
Just what he needed—a lecture from one of Belle’s oldest and most revered senior citizens, he thought as he rolled down the window. He had always admired the elderly woman’s independence, and he had often been amused by her outrageous behavior. But at that particular moment, he would have preferred not to be the focus of her unabashed attention.
Since he didn’t seem to have any choice in the matter, though, Simon met her gaze with a gracious smile. He had no reason to act as if he’d done anything wrong because he most certainly hadn’t.
“Good morning, Mrs. Averill. It’s nice to see you again. Weren’t you having breakfast in the diner earlier?” he asked politely.
“Good morning to you, too, young man, and yes, I was having breakfast in the diner earlier,” she acknowledged, though her tone was anything but friendly. “As for the pleasure of seeing you again, that’s yet to be determined. By my reckoning, you’ve been less than dutiful the past few years.”
He shouldn’t be surprised that Winifred Averill assumed the worst about him. The tone of his last conversation with his parents indicated that they had, as well. Yet he couldn’t recall doing anything in the past that would have made it so easy for people, especially those who should have known him best, to convict him without even hearing his side of the story.
Simon had never been intentionally cruel or neglectful in his life. But somehow he’d been painted as the villain where Lucy Kane was concerned. For the life of him, he couldn’t begin to understand why.
“I guess it wouldn’t cut any ice with you if I said that I only just found out about that little boy in the diner,” he replied, trying not to sound as defensive as he had begun to feel.
Winifred held his gaze for several long, silent seconds. Then she gave a nod of seeming satisfaction.
“Most anybody else told me that, I’d say likely story. But you always struck me as a decent young man, Simon Gilmore, and you surely come from decent folks. Lucy Kane never pointed a finger at you publicly. I doubt people would have been any the wiser if that child’s resemblance to you hadn’t become so obvious lately. You’re here now and you seem aware of your responsibilities. I imagine you’ll do right by the youngster and by Miss Kit, as well. I believe that’s what really matters.”
“I’ll certainly do my best, Mrs. Averill,” he assured her, though he wasn’t certain exactly how to begin.
Seeming to read his mind, Mrs. Averill tipped her head in the general direction of the diner, a few doors down the street from where Simon had parked his SUV.
“Might be wise of you to smooth Miss Kit’s ruffled feathers,” the elderly woman suggested. “She’s had a lot to deal with the past six months. First her mother got sick. Poor Dolores only lasted a few weeks before the cancer took her in December. Then Lucy Kane ran her silly self into a tree, and Miss Kit took on the boy. She’s been trying to sell the diner so she can go back to school in Seattle, but she hasn’t had any takers. I’d say she could use a strong shoulder to lean on right about now.”
“I hadn’t heard about Mrs. Davenport,” Simon said.
He understood even more how callous his behavior must have seemed to Kit. What had he been thinking, strolling up to her and kissing her the way he had?
That he’d been truly glad to see her just as he’d said….
“Not surprising with your folks gone as much as they are, but I’d head south for the winter if I could, too.” Mrs. Averill nodded agreeably, then tapped a bony finger on Simon’s arm. “You go on back to the Dinner Belle and talk to Kit. Take a few minutes and get to know that little boy of yours, too. He’s a fine one, if I do say so myself—just like his daddy, too,” she added, favoring him with a knowing smile before she headed off down the sidewalk to her rusty old pickup truck parked in front of the post office.
Daddy…
