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Hank stopped and looked at her then. “I’ve never known his real birth date. We chose one based on the pediatrician’s guess because the records weren’t complete and…Hell, as it’s turned out, the records weren’t even Robbie’s, were they.”
“He was born on October 11,” she said quietly. “And the earthquake struck on February 15. Those four months were all I had with him.”
While Hank had had three years. She tried to force that thought away.
“October 11. The doctor’s guess was pretty close. But the point I wanted to make is that Robbie isn’t old enough to really understand the concept of a mother. Not the fact that a mother’s the woman who gives birth to a person, I mean.
“Sometimes,” Hank added after a moment, “it’s hard to know exactly what he does understand.”
“Well, as you said, he’s only three and a half.”
“Yeah.”
A few beats passed, then Hank said, “I guess I should tell you that he knows he’s adopted—sort of, at least. I talked to him about it a few months ago, but I don’t think my explanation really made much sense to him.
“And getting back to his concept of a mother…as far as he’s concerned, I think she’s just someone who lives with a child and looks after him. Something his friends have but he doesn’t.”
“Has he ever asked why he doesn’t?”
“Uh-huh. And I told him his mother was dead.”
“Oh,” she murmured again. Even though she realized it shouldn’t, that hurt, too.
“Looking at things now,” Hank continued, “I guess it wasn’t the best answer. But it seemed to be at the time. My ex-wife doesn’t keep in touch, which meant there was no point in even mentioning her to him. And as far as I knew, you actually were dead, so…
“Well, he doesn’t really understand the concept of death, either. And he seems quite content that he has only me and Audrey. At any rate, I think we’d just confuse him if we got into how you can be his mother.”
She merely nodded, aware her voice would give her away if she spoke.
She’d studied child development in med school, and half the patients she treated in Villa Rosa were children. She knew the stages of growth their minds went through, was perfectly aware what a child Robbie’s age could comprehend and what he couldn’t.
Even so, when it came to her son, she’d been deluding herself—imagining that they’d tell him she was his mother, he’d wrap his little arms around her neck and the three missing years would simply melt away. But that wasn’t going to happen.
Hank had those years and they could never be hers.
HANK CUT THE IGNITION, then stared into the rearview mirror as Natalie’s rental pulled up behind his Blazer.
She’d suggested coming over in her own car so he wouldn’t have to take her back to the motel, and it had struck him as a good idea.
He’d figured that driving home alone would give him a chance to sort through something he was having trouble with—the fact that the more time he spent with her the nicer she seemed.
Oh, not that he’d rather she was evil incarnate. After all, she was Robbie’s mother.
Still, he’d find their situation easier to cope with if he was obviously the guy wearing the white hat and she was Cruella De Vil.
But it was clear that nothing about this mess was going to be black and white. And unfortunately, like most cops, he wasn’t as good at dealing with shades of gray.
Opening the door of the truck, he told himself that—as far as their negotiations were concerned—whether Natalie was nice or not was immaterial. Even if she was a reincarnation of Mother Teresa, he didn’t want her ending up with the lion’s share of time with Robbie.
He watched her get out of the Taurus, thinking she looked nervous. Maybe even frightened. But that was hardly surprising after Robbie had basically ignored her the first time around.
She had to be concerned about what kind of reception she’d get today. And worried that he’d never decide he liked her.
Audrey had raised that possibility last night. And after she had, they’d discussed it. They’d even flirted with the idea of trying to insure Robbie wouldn’t warm to Natalie.
They’d both been a little ashamed of themselves, but they had considered it—although ultimately they’d rejected it because he had a right to know his mother.
Like it or not, he did. A moral right and a legal one, as well. Doris Wagner had left no doubt on that score. Still, Hank couldn’t help wondering how long Natalie would persist if Robbie didn’t take to her.
Maybe she’d get discouraged pretty fast. Discouraged enough to pack up and head back to Guatemala. Alone.
He fantasized about that for a few seconds, then told himself it was nothing but wishful thinking. After spending three years and heaven only knows how much money to find her son, she wouldn’t quit now that she had.
Besides, her quiet manner probably made most kids feel at ease with her. And Robbie was basically a pretty friendly little guy, so he’d come around.
Glancing at the shopping bag she was holding, he thought about how many points she’d score with that fire engine—likely enough that she’d have Robbie on side in no time. And once he decided he liked her…
Hank gestured that they should head for the house, not wanting to let his thoughts wander any farther down that road right now.
Sooner or later they’d have to start talking about how much sharing each of them was prepared to do. But he was in no rush. Discussing the idea would only make it seem more real.
When Hank started forward Natalie followed along, telling herself there was no reason to feel even half as uncomfortable as she did. That wasn’t actually true, though.
The man wished she was anywhere else. She could read that in his body language—in his walk and the stiff set of his broad shoulders.
Telling herself not to go there, she turned her attention to the house. In contrast to him, it seemed positively welcoming.
The first time around, she’d been so nervous that she’d barely noticed what the exterior was like. Today, she was a little more observant. And the Cape Cod styling, the gray board-and-batten construction, the long front porch with its white railing…everything about it added up to a “friendly” sort of place.
The setting was appealing, too. On either side of the house, the lawn gave way to shrubs and trees that seemed to stretch forever—although she could make out a weathered split-rail fence that said he didn’t own anywhere near as far as she could see.
They’d almost reached the porch steps when the door flew open and her son came racing out. Just as it had the other day, her breath caught at the sight of him.
“Hey,” Hank said, swinging him up into his arms. “I haven’t been gone for a month, you know.”
“Yeah, but Mrs. Chevy made cookies. For the company. So I hadda wait for you. And her,” he added in a loud whisper, looking over at the “company.”
Natalie shot him the warmest smile she could manage.
“This is Natalie,” Hank said. “Do you remember her?”
As Robbie gave an exaggerated shrug, Audrey appeared in the doorway. Her expression said she was determined to be pleasant if it killed her—and that she was convinced it might.
“Hi,” Natalie said, managing another smile, also.
“Hi. I heard Robbie telling you I baked some cookies. So come in and we’ll see how they turned out.”
GLAD SHE’D HAD the foresight to wear jeans, Natalie scuttled across the living room, trying her hardest to stay ahead of Robbie.
The fire engine had proved a major hit. And while he raced it around the floor, making loud siren wails, she was in charge of moving cars out of its path.
Unfortunately, there were so many of them that she kept hearing impatient honking noises among the wailing.
Every so often, when she’d managed to clear a stretch of “road,” she glanced over to where Hank was sitting on the couch. He was pretending to read the paper. But since he hadn’t turned a page in half an hour, she knew he was actually keeping a close eye on them. And she couldn’t stop imagining what he must be thinking—not to mention feeling.
Looking away, she reminded herself that she had every right to spend some time with her own son. She shouldn’t have a sense of guilt about it.
But she knew why she did. She was getting what she wanted at Hank’s expense, and she’d really prefer that wasn’t the way things had to be.
“Robbie?” he said.
They both turned toward him.
“You’re going to wear Natalie out. Maybe you should do something a little quieter for a while.”
“What?”
“Play with one of your puzzles? Or see if she’ll read you a story?”
“Wanna do a puzzle?” he asked her.
“Sure.”
She watched him hurry over to the bookcase, the bottom two shelves of which were obviously his. Then, as he knelt poking through his things, she glanced at Hank once more.
Because her anxiety level had been sky-high the other day, her memory of the entire visit was a bit of a blur. But she recalled realizing that he wasn’t what she’d expected. And that those conclusions she’d jumped to, after reading Rodger Spicer’s report, hadn’t all been accurate.
Oh, she still had trouble with his being a police detective. Aside from anything else, she couldn’t understand what would make someone want to work in homicide.
But setting that aside, he’d obviously been doing a great job with Robbie—which gave her strangely mixed feelings.
She’d always hoped and prayed that, wherever her son was, he’d been adopted by good people. But somehow, at the same time, she’d imagined that when she finally found him she’d be rescuing him from a family that hadn’t given him nearly as much love as he deserved.
Now, however, she’d come face-to-face with reality. And the reality was that Robbie was a happy, secure child—whom Hank loved very much.
It was almost enough to start her wondering if she was making a mistake. If she should back away and content herself with being far less a part of his life than she wanted to be.
But how could she?
She’d felt him growing inside her, and had given birth to him. Held him when he was barely a minute old. Nursed him. And she’d never stopped loving him with all her heart.
He was part of her. Part of Carlos. How could she back away from that?
The sound of a phone ringing interrupted her thoughts, and a second later Robbie trotted over to her with a painted wooden puzzle. They’d just spread all the pieces right side up on the floor, when Audrey hurried into the room.
“That was Mark,” she told Hank. “He and Valerie just got to the hospital.”
“Do you want me to call about a flight?” Hank asked her. “Get you on the earliest one I can?”
“Oh, yes, please. I’m so excited I can hardly think straight, let alone deal with the airlines.”
“Oh, and Hank,” she added as he was heading off, “don’t book a return one that comes in too late.
“My daughter’s having her first baby,” she explained to Natalie as Hank disappeared. “They live in Idaho, so I’m not likely to arrive before she delivers.
“But we decided it made more sense to have most of my time there afterward, with her and the baby, than sit around just waiting, beforehand.
“You know how it is with firstborns. Well, of course you do—you’re a doctor. They can be weeks late.”
“Yes, they certainly can.”
She glanced at her firstborn. Her only born. He’d been a mere eight days late, but she’d thought she’d never go into labor.
“Oh, now I’m wondering if I should have said I’d stay longer than two weeks and gone earlier,” Audrey murmured. “Then I could be in the delivery room with her. But I just didn’t want to take too much time away from Robbie.”
“Who’ll be looking after him while you’re away?”
For a fleeting second, the hope that they might have no one lined up and that she could do it flitted through her mind.
But she told herself they’d have something arranged, even before Audrey said, “One of my friends. She’s a widow, too, so she can move in on a moment’s notice.”
Audrey turned toward Robbie, saying, “You’re going to be good as gold for Mrs. Harmand, aren’t you.”
He nodded.
“And will you miss me?”
“Uh-huh.”
“How much?”
Grinning, he stretched his arms apart as widely as they’d go.
“Well, good, because I’m going to miss you, too. A whole bunch. But I’ll be back soon.”
Focusing on Natalie again, she said, “Will you be all right here until Hank’s off the phone? I’m basically packed, but I’ve got some last-minute things to gather up.”
“Sure, we’ll be fine. We’re just getting started on the puzzle. Right, Robbie?”
“Uh-huh.” He turned his attention back to it as Audrey hurried from the room.
Natalie sat on the floor beside him, very aware this was her first time alone with him in over three years.
Her throat tight with emotion, she desperately wanted to wrap her arms around him and hug him half to death. She didn’t make a move, though.
She knew better than to try to force herself on a child—even if he was her own—so she merely watched him, her eyes drinking in the way his dark hair curled onto his neck, the smoothness of his skin, the perfection of his little hands hovering over the pieces of the puzzle.
The last time she’d seen him…
