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Or, it had, until he’d lost all common sense on that long-ago night.
He wanted to scream at the fates for putting him in this position, but what was done was done. There was only one way to escape this time, but as he glanced at Brody’s photo, the idea didn’t appeal as much as it might have. After all, if he’d been willing to face his fears and have a baby with Sara, how was this any different?
There was a big difference, he thought tiredly. Sara was his wife and she’d stand beside him, helping him, guiding him along the right path, correcting his mistakes. Now the question was, would she stay with him or not? Would he lose his son and his wife?
He studied her, wishing she’d say or do something rather than remain locked in icy calm. If only they had time to come to terms with the situation and what it meant to them as a couple, but time was a luxury they didn’t have.
“Sara?” he asked tentatively. “We have to make a decision.”
“Right now?” She sounded horrified.
“Maybe not this instant,” he conceded, “but definitely within the next twenty-four hours. Brody’s future has to be settled, one way or another. Keeping him in limbo isn’t in his best interests.”
He’d wondered if the prospect of having the baby she’d wanted would overshadow its origins, but she clearly hadn’t reached that level of acceptance yet. He understood. He was still stunned and he’d felt the bombshell several hours earlier.
She nodded, almost absentmindedly.
Thinking that Sara would benefit from seeing Ruth’s wishes in black and white, he pulled a copy of the will out of the manila envelope and flipped to the pages in question.
“Ruth had arranged for all of her assets to be placed into a trust fund for Brody and she named us as the trustees. She didn’t want finances to factor in to our decision, so she left a modest nest egg for his care.”
Not that he intended to tap into it if they chose to raise him. After all, Brody was his son, and his responsibility.
“There are a few personal things she asked that we keep for him, heirlooms if you will. Everything else will be sold.”
“I see.”
“She also asked that we legally adopt him so he carries our surname rather than hers.”
“She thought of everything, didn’t she?” she said wryly.
“I’m sure she and her legal counsel tried to cover every contingency.”
“Did she have a plan if we decided not to raise her child?”
Cole’s cautious optimism fell as Sara asked this same question for a second time, as if she wanted to be sure she had other options.
“As I said earlier, Ruth had hoped you wouldn’t make that choice.”
“Did she make a plan B?” Sara pressed on, as if through gritted teeth.
Cole sighed. “She did. Brody will become a ward of the state and will be eligible for adoption by another couple.”
In that instant, he knew he was facing an untenable situation. Ruth had guessed correctly that he wouldn’t be able to easily give up his son, but if Sara wasn’t in favor of keeping him, he’d be forced to choose between his wife and a boy he’d just learned was his. Neither was a palatable option.
Still, he wanted to think positive …
She frowned. “Wouldn’t you have to relinquish your rights if you’re his father?”
He’d wondered if she would have realized that. While everything within him fought that idea, the letter Ruth had left for his eyes only had requested him to do just that if Sara wouldn’t agree to her terms.
I know how difficult this would be for you, Ruth had written, but you know far better than I how much harder Brody’s life would be to live in a home where one parental figure didn’t want him …
He might not want to sign those documents, and his decision would haunt him if he did, but he’d do it, for Brody’s sake. “Yes,” he said simply, hating the mere notion of it.
“I would.”
And he’d regret it for the rest of his life. She paused. The wrinkle between her eyebrows suggested she was weighing her options. “And if we take him?” she finally asked. “What then?”
A spark of optimism flared. “Then, starting tomorrow, he’ll spend time with us. The Maitlands will stay in town for a few days to ease his transition but they can’t stay longer because they have family commitments of their own.”
“That’s it? He just moves in?”
“More or less. There are several legal details to take care of during the next few days and weeks but, to be honest, I can’t remember what Maitland told me they were. As soon as we come to an agreement, they’ll arrange for the personal belongings to be shipped here.”
“But all of this hinges on our decision.”
As far as he was concerned, there wasn’t a decision to make. The thought of committing himself to the responsibility of another human being who would depend upon him for years to come might send a cold shiver down his spine—a fact that Ruth had known full well—but he couldn’t deny her request, not just because Brody was his own son but because it was time to face his fears.
Unfortunately, the decision wasn’t completely his to make.
It was ironic to think that Sara would have jumped for joy at taking in Brody had someone else fathered him. Unfortunately, Brody’s presence would not only be a visual and constant reminder of his error in judgment but also that she’d lost her own child. The only question was, could she look past those reminders or not?
“Yes,” he answered simply, threading his fingers together in a white-knuckled grip. “Keep in mind he has nowhere else to go.”
She met his gaze. “That’s not fair, Cole. Don’t play on my sympathies to get what you obviously want.”
“I’m only stating a fact.”
Slowly, she rose, leaving the photo on the table. “I won’t apologize for needing time.”
“Okay,” he conceded, “but—”
She held up her hands. “I can’t rush into a decision without thinking this through. The thing is, whatever we—I—decide to do about your son, our lives will never be the same.”
As if he needed to be reminded … He was damned if he did, and damned if he didn’t. Sara must have come to the same realization, too.
Suddenly, holding a person’s life in his hands, medically speaking, seemed like less of a minefield than the situation looming ahead of him. Although he’d mentioned a twenty-four-hour deadline, somehow he sensed that announcing the Maitlands were expecting a decision by tomorrow morning wouldn’t be well received.
He watched helplessly as she walked out of the room.
As he sat alone, he thought about how he’d enjoyed almost three years of blissful ignorance. Ruth should have told him and the fact she hadn’t angered him. He had deserved to know, damn it!
Like Sara deserved to know? his little voice asked. You wanted to protect your relationship with Sara, so maybe Ruth was doing the same for you …
He sighed as he recognized the truth. Ruth’s silence had provided a simpler solution to their dilemma. She’d known how crazily in love he’d been with Sara and breaking the news would have driven a wedge into his new marriage. Not only that, Ruth would have had to share Brody with him because as unprepared as he felt about fatherhood, he would have insisted on knowing his own son, even if he’d been a long-distance parent.
The idea that he might never have known about Brody if Ruth hadn’t died didn’t set well and was too close to his own situation for comfort. His only aunt and uncle hadn’t bothered to make contact with him until he was eight, when circumstances had forced them to do so. While Brody’s fate was still undecided, he certainly wouldn’t ignore the boy in the meantime.
Idly, he wondered if this one subtle difference proved that his fears of repeating his relatives’ dysfunctional behavior were unfounded. Of course, wanting to meet Brody was hardly enough evidence to make a case, but it was a difference that he could think about and consider. In the meantime, he had more pressing concerns.
The clock on the microwave showed six-thirty. Had only thirty minutes passed since he’d broken the news to Sara? Thirty minutes since he’d shattered his wife’s faith in him?
He glanced at the sealed envelope on the table before focusing on the photo of his son. His son. A living, breathing product of his own DNA, a continuation of the Wittman family tree.
The same awed thoughts had bombarded him after Sara had announced her pregnancy but this time the feelings were a little different. Now he had a name and face whereas before the only tangible evidence of his child had been a number on her lab report. Before he’d had time to dream big dreams, to imagine a little boy or girl with Sara’s beautiful eyes and his crooked smile, or to work through his reservations about being a parent, Sara had miscarried.
Brody, however, was here. In the flesh. Already walking and talking with a personality of his own.
Suddenly, the past two-plus years of ignorant bliss were far too long. He wanted to meet his son tonight, regardless of the hour or how cranky he might be. Waiting until tomorrow seemed like an eternity.
As he heard a loud thump coming from the direction of their bedroom, however, his eagerness faded. Meeting a child he might never be able to claim as his own could easily be a prelude to heartache.
CHAPTER TWO
SARA stared at the suitcase she’d dumped unceremoniously on the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. Whether she unpacked or not, their trip was over. Done. Finished. If they took in Brody, they wouldn’t go. And if they didn’t, they still wouldn’t go because these events had killed her romantic-weekend mood.
Oh, who was she kidding? Tonight’s revelation had ruined more than the weekend. It had completely cracked the foundation of their marriage. Complete collapse was only a nudge away.
The question was, did she want to give their marriage that nudge, or not? Half of her was tempted beyond belief. The other half encouraged her to weather the storm.
She had to think. She had to decide what was the best option, which was the better course, but her emotions were far too raw to make a logical decision. Leaving meant the end of every hope and dream she’d nurtured.
Staying meant … meant what? That she’d already forgiven Cole? She hadn’t. That she loved him? At the moment, it was questionable.
Whatever her choice, she had to make it for the right reasons. Right now, she felt as if she were balanced precariously on a wet log, struggling to maintain her footing while knowing it wouldn’t take much for her to fall in either direction. With a decision this monumental looming over her, she needed time.
Not making a decision was making a decision.
Not true, she argued with herself. She wasn’t choosing to stay or go. She was simply choosing to give herself time to come to terms with the fact that Cole had a son.
He had a son.
Without her.
Once again, much as it had when she’d first connected the dots, hurt and anger crashed over her in debilitating waves. She kicked the luggage defiantly, well aware it was a poor substitute for the man who deserved her wrath, but she still hoped that small act would ease her pain.
It didn’t.
She hoisted the case back on the bed and unzipped the top. In spite of her rough treatment, the clothes inside were just as neat as when she’d placed them there. Once again, she was racked with indecision.
“Are you okay, Sara?” Cole asked from the doorway, a worried wrinkle on his forehead.
“I’m just peachy,” she answered waspishly. “How do you think I am?”
He didn’t answer, as if he knew the answer. “May I come in?”
“Suit yourself.” She spied the edge of the black silk teddy she’d purchased specifically for this weekend and poked it underneath her jeans and sweatshirts to keep it out of sight.
“Are you unpacking?” he asked.
“Yes.” She eyed the case and suddenly didn’t feel inclined to empty it, especially when the urge to grab it and run away was far too strong. “No. I’m not sure.”
“Maybe this will help. Packing means you’re leaving. To stay, you have to unpack.”
He sounded calm, as if he were simply helping her decide between wearing a pair of blue or green scrubs. “I realize that,” she answered sharply. Then, realizing she sounded shrewish, she softened her tone. “I’m trying to decide. Unfortunately, I can’t decide what is the right thing to do.” She rubbed at the crease on her forehead.
“I know you’re upset,” he began as he crossed the threshold.
“Wow. Whatever gave you that idea? Why would I possibly be upset to hear that my husband …” Her voice cracked. “My husband had a child with another woman while we were separated? My God, Cole. It was only a week. One lousy week.”
“Actually, it was ten days,” he corrected, “but, yes, those were lousy days on so many levels.”
She brushed aside his comment. “One week, ten days, it’s practically the same thing. All I know is that I didn’t fall into bed with anyone during that time, even if I technically …” she made imaginary quotation marks in the air “… could have.”
“It was a one-night error in judgment. It didn’t mean a thing.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful, Cole. I’m sure Brody will be happy to hear his dad say that he was a mistake. An error in judgment.”
“I only meant—”
“The point is,” she continued, “I haven’t forgotten why we split up or why we got back together.”
“I haven’t either,” he said evenly.
She rubbed the back of her neck. “But now you’re asking me to ignore what you did and welcome your son with open arms.”
His expression grew grave. “I’m only trying to explain what happened. While I know it’s too soon to ask for forgiveness, I’d like you to understand—”
“I’m having trouble with that,” she said flatly. “The Cole Wittman I knew prided himself on his control and for you to do something so obviously out of control … well, it makes me look at our life together in a different light, which is why I can’t decide … about this.” She motioned toward her suitcase.
“I knew the situation would be … tough to handle,” he admitted. “If it’s any consolation, I’ve dreaded telling you from the moment Maitland showed me Ruth’s will. I expected the news would be hard for you to swallow.”
At least he was cognizant enough of her feelings to guess at her reaction. “You were right.”
“I’m sorry to have landed us in this predicament.”
Predicament was such an insipid term for the situation they were in, she decided.
“Would you rather I’d kept this from you and told Maitland then and there that we weren’t interested in taking Brody?”
It would have been so much easier, she thought with irritation, but she also knew that “easy” didn’t always mean “better.” Successful marriages were built on honesty, not secrets, and if Cole had kept this from her—even if part of her wished he had—they could be setting a dangerous precedent for their future relationship. What would stop him from withholding information from her again, especially if he deemed it was information she’d find uncomfortable?
“Why didn’t you?” she asked, curious.
He shrugged. “The truth eventually comes out. Maybe not today or next month or next year, but sometime down the road it would surface again. Fate has a way of doing the unexpected,” he said wryly, “and I figured that learning about Brody would be easier to handle now rather than in ten or twenty years.
“And,” he continued tentatively, “knowing how badly you wanted a baby, I’d hoped …” His voice faded.
