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Jake straightened. “Good. Let’s go.”
Ms. Woods let out a long sigh. “I have to make arrangements with the Fosters. We can’t barge in on them.”
“Okay, make the arrangement.” He tried to remain calm.
“Mrs. Carr lived in Houston, as I told you, and that’s a four-hour drive. We may not be able to do it until tomorrow.”
Jake glanced at his watch. “I’ll be back at one. That’ll give you enough time to inform the Fosters that I’m coming.” He turned toward the door.
“Mr. McCain, I can’t—”
“One o’clock, Ms. Woods,” he said, and closed the door.
ELISE WAS HAVING A BAD morning. Her eyes were red and puffy and makeup hadn’t helped. She should have been at the university by now, but she couldn’t seem to pull herself together. Jake was gone and he wasn’t coming back; she couldn’t get past that and the hateful things he’d said.
She went into the closet to get her gray suit jacket and saw Jake’s clothes…a couple of pairs of jeans and a few shirts. He also had some socks and underwear in a drawer. In six months of marriage, that was all Jake had brought to her house. It was as if he’d been visiting her, and in a way she supposed he was. Now that visit was over. A shiver ran through her as she moved to the bedroom for her briefcase and purse. Picking up her purse she saw the magazines by the nightstand…magazines with articles on conception. She dropped her purse and gathered an armful and headed for the garage. She wouldn’t be needing them anymore. Jake was gone and so was her dream of a baby. She made three trips to dump the magazines in the garbage.
With the last few in her hands, she straightened to see Derek’s picture on the nightstand. Suddenly Jake’s words echoed through her head. “How do you think it makes me feel to make love to you with his picture on your nightstand? You should’ve had enough consideration for my feelings to remove it. You’ve never considered my feelings or much of anything else where I’m concerned.”
Oh my God. The magazines dropped to the floor at her feet as a fog lifted from her mind and she could see her insensitive actions clearly. Oh my God. Her legs trembled and she sank onto the bed. What had she done? Up until this very moment, she had never seen anything wrong with having Derek’s picture in their bedroom. And it was very wrong. She could see that now. Why couldn’t she before? Maybe she was more like her mother and Judith than she’d ever imagined, because the insensitivity of her own behavior bordered on cruelty. Yet Jake had never said a word until yesterday. Why not? He wanted a child as much as she did; that was the only reason that made sense. And now he had a child—a little boy named Ben. She wondered if Jake had seen his son. What was Ben like?
Tears welled up but she refused to cry. She couldn’t. She had a class to teach and she had to get moving, although her body wasn’t cooperating. All she could see was Jake’s face, and she knew she had to apologize. But how could she explain the mental fog she’d been in? By being honest. Years of grieving had clouded her thinking. Jake’s words had brought her to her senses.
She stood and turned Derek’s picture facedown. He was dead. She had to accept that, as Jake had said, and she had to get on with her life…a life without Jake…or a baby. She picked up her purse and walked toward the door, trying not to think about Jake. But she knew he’d be in her every thought.
JAKE THOUGHT THE SITUATION OVER. He now knew what Ms. Woods had been hiding—Ben was not a normal little boy. His mind reeled from the revelation and he tried to stay focused on the main objective. The Fosters wanted to adopt his son—a son who had problems, severe problems. As easy as that would make his life, he couldn’t even consider the possibility. Ben was his flesh and blood, and even though he’d need special attention, Jake would do everything he could to be the boy’s father. Because he was.
He decided he needed a lawyer. If he had to fight for custody of Ben, he’d need a good one. He drove straight to Beau’s office. Beau specialized in family law and Jake knew his brother could help him, give him some advice. He’d never been to Beau’s office, since Beau always visited him at the farm. They met for dinner every now and then, but other than that, they had very little contact. Jake knew that was his fault. He couldn’t face seeing his mother.
He located Beau’s office on the fourth floor of a tall glass structure. A young woman at the reception desk smiled at him as he entered.
“I’d like to see Beau McCain, please,” he said.
“Do you have an appointment?” she asked politely.
“No.”
She flipped through a book. “He has an opening on Friday at two.”
Jake frowned. “I need to see him now.”
“He’s with someone and—”
Her words faded away as Jake headed down the hall to find Beau.
“Come back here.” The young woman ran after him, but Jake didn’t stop. He heard Beau’s voice, tapped on the door and went in.
As he did, his stomach caved in with such force that it cut off his breathing. His mother was there talking to Beau. He hadn’t seen her in twenty-eight years—not since the day she’d left the farm and him behind. He’d made a point of not seeing her, of not having anything to do with her, and he’d succeeded until today.
Just like that, his childhood flashed through his mind, his mother reading to him, singing to him, kissing his forehead, patiently helping him with homework, and from out of nowhere the taste of her cinnamon rolls made his mouth water. Then just as quickly those good feelings slammed into a wall of pure pain—the pain of her betrayal—and that was all he felt. All he could remember.
“Mr. McCain, I tried to stop him.” Numbly the receptionist’s voice penetrated his mind.
“It’s okay, Cindy,” Beau said as he came around his desk. “I’ll take care of this.”
Jake wanted to turn and leave, but his feet wouldn’t move. When he was younger, he used to dream of things he’d say to his mother if he ever saw her again, but those words were locked away so deep, under layers of heartache and resentment, that he couldn’t dredge them up.
Almost in slow motion he watched his mother get up from the chair and walk toward him. The pain in his chest intensified and he was beyond thinking. Don’t speak to me, screamed through his head.
But her words came as soft and sweet as he remembered. “I was just leaving. It’s good to see you, Jake.” She stared at him a moment before walking out the door.
She didn’t look any older than she had years ago, Jake thought inanely, except for the gray in her hair.
Beau closed the door and glared at Jake. “Would it have killed you to say hello?”
Jake was still having a hard time finding his voice.
“When are you going to let go of the past?” Beau snapped.
Air swished back into Jake’s lungs. “Some things can’t be forgiven.”
“Like what?”
“Like a mother leaving a ten-year-old boy.”
Beau shook his head. “You have a convenient memory, Jake. You refused to go with us. Remember?”
He remembered it vividly. His mother begging and pleading with him, but his father had already told him what she’d done. She was leaving him for Andrew Wellman. “I remember a lot of things,” he said harshly.
“Do you remember Mom had custody and could have forced you to go, but she didn’t? She knew how much you loved the old man and how loyal you were to him. In the end, she couldn’t hurt you anymore. She let you stay and I don’t think she’s ever forgiven herself for that.”
Jake had had all he could take. “She chose to leave. I remember that. Or is your memory convenient, too?”
Beau threw up his hands. “What do you want, Jake? I’m tired of talking to a stone wall.”
Ben—he was here about Ben. For a paralyzing moment he’d forgotten that. Now he wasn’t sure if he wanted Beau to help him or not. Too much tension existed between them, and he needed someone willing to fight for him. Was Beau that person?
“Since you’ve never been to my office before it must be important,” Beau said, moving back to his desk.
“Yes, it is,” Jake admitted. “But I’m having second thoughts now.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s awkward.”
“I don’t feel awkward. Do you?”
Jake didn’t answer as he took the seat his mother had vacated. Awkwardness or tension didn’t matter. What mattered was his son. He told Beau about Ben.
Beau eyes widened. “You have a son?”
“Yes, and the Fosters, the people caring for him, want to adopt him.”
“How bad is Ben’s health?”
“I’m hoping to meet him this afternoon and determine that for myself. Ms. Woods is trying to set it up and from what she’s said, Ben needs lots of care and attention.”
“And you’re willing to do that?”
“Of course I am. He’s my son.”
Silence, then Beau asked, “And Elise?”
Jake swallowed. “She’ll be filing for divorce.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I can’t dwell on it. I have to move forward for Ben.” That was his one goal. As long as he had that, the pain wasn’t so bad.
“I have to be honest,” Beau said. “It would go a hell of a lot better if she was with you.”
“She won’t be.”
“Why not?”
“Dammit, Beau, I’ll be fighting for my son alone. That is all you need to know.” He wasn’t discussing his marriage with Beau or anyone else.
“Okay,” Beau muttered.
Jake’s eyes caught Beau’s. “What are my chances?”
“If Ben has severe problems and these people know how to care for him and he’s familiar with them, a judge’ll think twice before removing him from their home. Being the biological father carries a lot of weight, though. I’ll look up some case law and see if we can even the odds.”
“Thanks, but…”
“But what?”
Jake had trouble expressing what he felt. He cleared his throat. “I want what’s best for Ben and I feel that’s being with me, but I haven’t seen him yet. The Fosters might be able to give him more than I can. If that’s the case, I’ll have to leave him there.”
A slight grin tugged at Beau’s mouth.
Jake frowned. “Why are you smiling?”
“I was thinking that to do what’s best for your son, you might have to relinquish your claim on him—like Mom did with you.”
Jake drew in a long breath. “I don’t want to get into that again.”
“There’re two sides to every story, Jake. One of these days, you might want to hear the other side.”
Jake stood. “I’d better go. I want to be ready when Ms. Woods calls.”
“Call me after you see Ben and let me know your decision.”
“All I can think right now is that I want my son,” Jake said. “That won’t change unless Ben is in such bad shape that I’m unable to handle him. I don’t know anything about kids, but I’m willing to learn. I’m bracing myself for the worst and hoping I can be the father Ben needs. He may need more than me, though. That’s what I have to find out.” He moved toward the door. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Jake.” Beau stopped him.
Jake turned back.
“Give me the word and I’ll fight for you any way I can.”
They stared at each other, two brothers with different points of view bound together by blood—the most powerful connection in the world.
“Thanks,” Jake replied, and walked out.
CHAPTER FOUR
WHEN JAKE WALKED INTO the kitchen, the phone was ringing. He immediately picked it up. Ms. Woods’s voice came through, clear and impatient. “Mr. McCain, I’ve set up a meeting for four o’clock today. Is that fast enough?”
“Yes, thanks.” He felt a moment of relief.
“I’ll meet you at the office in Houston. The address is on the card I gave you. When you get to Houston, Mrs. Turner, head of our department, will want to explain the situation more fully.”
When were they going to stop explaining things to him and just let him see his son? “Fine,” he said.
“Try to get there a little after three. I know that’s rushing it, but—”
He cut her off. “I’ll be there, and thanks again, Ms. Woods.”
As he hung up, a sense of excitement ran through him. He was finally meeting Ben—his son—and he didn’t have any time to waste. It was already after eleven. He ran into his aunt Vin on the patio.
“Where’re you going in such a rush?” she asked.
Jake grinned. “To see my son.”
Aunt Vin patted his shoulder. “That’s wonderful. When will you bring him home?”
The grin left his face. “It’s a long story and I’m in a hurry. We’ll talk tonight.”
“I’ll be at bingo,” she shouted after him.
“I’ll talk to you in the morning, then.”
“Okay. Drive carefully.”
Jake made a stop at the barn to talk to Mike, to check if there were any problems he couldn’t handle. There weren’t. The machines were out of the fields and the cotton was stored in modules waiting to be taken to the gin. Wags jumped into the truck.
“Sorry, boy, you can’t go,” Jake said, pulling him out by the collar.
