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Those rare but vivid dreams had taken her by surprise each time. She’d have sworn she’d long since put the weekend behind her. But then again, she lived with a daily reminder of her days and nights with Adam, so it was only natural she’d have thoughts of him from time to time. Right?
Swallowing hard, she rose to her feet. She craved a few moments to herself, just a chance to clear her thoughts, to lock away the memories again. “I need a glass of water. Can I get you anything?”
He looked as though he were going to decline, but then seemed to change his mind. “Yeah, water sounds good. Thanks.”
She doubted he was any thirstier than she was, but maybe he, too, thought it a good idea to change the tone of this conversation. To focus on what needed to be their priority.
Their son.
* * *
TOO RESTLESS TO SIT, Adam stood when Joanna did, then turned to lean against the railing and gaze moodily out at the view. The suites were arranged to maximize privacy with palmettos and flowering trees between the balconies. Vacationers milled on the beach in the distance. A young couple strolled hand in hand through the courtyard below, seemingly oblivious to anyone around them.
He vaguely remembered what that felt like.
Absorbed in their own pursuits, no one looked his way. And even if they did glance up, they couldn’t know that his entire life had changed since he’d set out for a jog that morning.
He had a son.
Despite Trevor’s warnings, Adam had little doubt the boy was his. He suspected DNA tests would merely confirm his gut instinct, though he wouldn’t object to the formality. He still found it hard to believe Joanna had deliberately sought him out now for any of the reasons Trevor had implied—for any reason, actually. In fact, she seemed poised to run, taking her—taking their—son without a goodbye. He could hardly blame her for that impulse, considering.
She’d claimed to be unable to locate him. Obviously she hadn’t tried very hard. He wouldn’t make the same mistake if she were the one to vanish now. They had some things to settle before going their separate ways again. He just wished he knew what the hell he was supposed to do next.
A sound from behind him made him turn to find her approaching with a glass of ice water in each hand. She set the glasses on the table, then wiped her palms on her dress, drawing his gaze. She had great legs, long and shapely. He remembered with unexpected clarity exactly how they’d felt wrapped around him. He cleared his throat and shifted his weight, giving her a curt nod. “Thanks.”
Any nervousness that might have been present in her expression earlier was hidden now behind a look of determination. Obviously she’d used the brief time inside to reinforce her defenses. It bothered him that she’d felt it necessary to do so.
“You’re angry with me,” she said.
“No.” His response was automatic.
She held her ground. “Yes.”
He sighed and shoved a hand through his hair. “Okay, yeah. Maybe a bit.”
“You think I could have tried harder to find you.”
He met her eyes. “Yes.”
Her mouth tightened, but she continued. “Even considering the way you left? No phone number. Not even a note.”
Despite the truth of her words, he refused to be placed on the defensive. “I’ve already told you my reason for that.” Part of the reason, anyway. “But you had to have known everything changed with the pregnancy.”
“Everything certainly changed for me,” she said in a strained whisper, looking away. Her right hand went to her stomach, as if in subconscious memory, and he found his mind filled with images of her swollen with pregnancy. His throat tightened painfully.
“I was six weeks along before I realized I was pregnant, or at least before I admitted it to myself,” she said, her hand falling to her side. “You’d made no effort to contact me, so I assumed you’d moved on with your plans, whatever they were. As I said, I did try to reach you through the resort, but I couldn’t get anywhere. Adam Scott is not an uncommon name. I didn’t even know what state you lived in.”
He grimaced. “I was in Afghanistan.”
Her eyes widened. “Afghanistan? You were in the military?”
“Army.”
She moistened her lips, drawing his attention to her soft mouth. “I wondered at the time if you’d served a tour. There was something about your haircut and the way you carried yourself. But you didn’t seem to want to talk about it, so I didn’t push. I had no idea you were on your way overseas.”
He shrugged. “It was my second deployment. And you’re right, I didn’t want to discuss it. The whole point of taking that vacation was to get away from military talk for a few days.”
He’d relished the few days of luxury and relaxation, but he hadn’t been overly concerned about his upcoming assignment. He’d been aware of the dangers he would face, of course, and had considered himself rather noble for leaving no one to worry about his safety. Still, he’d fully expected to return as relatively unscathed as he had from his first, far-less-traumatic mission. Remembering that almost cocky naïveté now made him grimace, though fortunately Joanna didn’t seem to notice.
“How long were you deployed?”
“Ten months.” He didn’t add that it had been a twelve-month tour cut short by an explosive device.
“Which would have made it even harder for me to contact you,” she pointed out.
“It would have been possible,” he muttered. He’d had the right to know about his child, even though he had no clue how he’d have reacted. “Five years, Joanna. Five years I’ve had a son I didn’t know about.”
Her eyes glittered, and the sight of her tears punched him in the gut. His throat ached with the emotions he was choking down. Pain and regret hovered between them as they stood there, gazes locked, both struggling for words.
His phone beeped with a text, shattering the tense moment. The sudden sound startled them both. Unsure whether he was more annoyed or grateful for the interruption, he glanced down at the screen and cursed softly. “There’s something I have to deal with now. Work.”
“Of course,” she said, a bit too readily. “We can talk later.”
He looked up from the phone with a frown. “We will talk later. We still have a lot to discuss.”
She gave a resigned nod. “I’d rather not tell Simon anything about this until after you and I have had that discussion.”
He knew exactly what he felt this time. Relief. He wasn’t at all ready for the boy to know who he was. “Agreed.”
Pushing the phone back into his pocket, he started to turn, then paused, looking over his shoulder. “You’re not going to run, are you?”
She held his gaze when she answered lightly, “Not yet.”
He wished he could take more reassurance in that reply.
* * *
SIMON RETURNED FROM the field trip chattering a mile a minute about everything he’d seen and learned. He hopped out of the van clutching a reusable water bottle imprinted with the aquarium logo in one hand, and a slightly crumpled craft project in the other. Joanna dutifully admired the blue cardboard ocean covered with stickers of all the specimens he’d seen that day. She smiled when she saw that he’d drawn shells on the glitter-embellished “sand” at the bottom of his ocean, including a fairly credible lettered olive.
“This is great, Simon. I’m glad you had a good time.”
“We had a wonderful time,” Miss Molly volunteered, overhearing the comment as she mingled among the reunited kids and parents. “You have a very bright and well-behaved son. He asked such smart questions that I can tell Deborah and I will have to stay well prepared for each day’s lessons.”
Joanna was pleased that Molly seemed more impressed than impatient with Simon’s endless questions. That wasn’t always the case.
“See you tomorrow, Simon, when we’ll go to the maritime museum.”
“’Bye, Miss Molly.” Falling into step beside Joanna, Simon continued to recap his field trip, barely pausing to take a breath as he leaped nimbly from one sandy stepping stone to the next.
She tried to interject the occasional response or question, just to let him know she was paying attention. It was difficult to focus on anything other than her dilemma with Adam. “What was your favorite exhibit?”
He puckered his lips in thought for a moment, then said, “The archer fish! They shoot water out of their mouths at insects sitting on branches above them. The bugs fall in the lake and then the fish eat them. We saw them when the aquarium people put bugs in the tank.”
“That’s a very clever fish.”
Simon grinned up at her. “Bet the bugs wish they were dumber.”
She chuckled. “I’m sure you’re right.”
She loved teasing with her bright little boy, making each other laugh with silly jokes. His laughter could make her smile even after the hardest day. Just standing beside his bed and watching him sleep brought her a deep sense of joy she could never have imagined before she’d had him. They’d been happy in their tidy house in a suburb of Atlanta, their own small refuge.
The idea of sharing him with someone else made her stomach tighten in rejection. Because she recognized the selfishness of that reaction, she shoved it away, assuring herself she wanted only what was best for Simon, whatever that might mean for his future. Of course, she would protect him fiercely from being hurt if she suspected that might happen, but there was no need to borrow trouble. For all she knew, Adam had no interest in fatherhood, no desire to have his bachelor life complicated by a five-year-old.
She wouldn’t be surprised if he offered financial assistance, regardless of how involved he wanted to be in Simon’s life. Granted, she didn’t know Adam well, but she’d pegged him as a man of honor. She wouldn’t accept a dime for herself, of course, but she supposed it would be only fair to allow Adam to open a trust account or make some other financial arrangements for the boy. She couldn’t let her own pride interfere with her son’s best interest, as grating as it would be to surrender even that modicum of parental control. As for any other interaction...she swallowed hard, telling herself again to take it one step at a time.
“I’m sure you’re a little tired after your busy afternoon,” she told Simon. “Would you like to rest awhile before dinner?”
As she expected, Simon shook his head. “I’m not tired. But maybe we could go to the beach and I could build a sand castle?”
“We could absolutely do that.”
Fifteen minutes later, she reclined on a low beach chair with her bare legs stretched in front of her, reading a book on her tablet, and with an insulated tumbler of ice-cold water beside her. Above her, a blue umbrella fluttered in the steady breeze, shading her from the late afternoon sun. Only a few people milled on the beach and in the waves. Others were out on the fishing pier many yards to the south.
With the beach relatively empty, Simon had plenty of room to play. He sat cross-legged on the damp sand near Joanna’s chair, his sunscreen-shiny face creased in concentration. He’d dumped a bag of brightly colored beach toys around him—shovels and pails, sand molds, a plastic bulldozer and a construction vehicle with a scoop bucket on a bendable arm. Imitating the beeps and other mechanical noises he’d heard on his favorite construction-themed videos, he focused on building a road to the sand mound he’d already prepared for his planned castle.
Joanna divided her attention between her busy son, the gripping novel and the natural beauty surrounding her. She thought wistfully that this was exactly what she’d envisioned when she’d booked this vacation. She’d known there would be bittersweet moments, of course, but she’d been prepared to deal with them. This was all she’d wanted—quiet time together outdoors in the sun and surf.
Another young boy ran up to watch what Simon was doing. The child immediately grabbed one of Simon’s plastic shovels and plopped down to dig with it.
“Cody!” a male voice called out. “That doesn’t belong to you.”
Noting that the boy, who looked to be close to Simon’s own age, had Down syndrome, Joanna prepared to caution her son to be patient, but she should have known it wouldn’t be necessary.
“It’s okay,” Simon told the boy’s father, who was hurrying over. “He can play with me.”
The dad looked at Joanna, the expression on his broad, ruddy face questioning. She smiled and nodded. “Let him play for a few minutes if he wants to.”
Accepting that his son had settled in, the man chuckled wryly. “Thanks. To be honest, I wouldn’t mind sitting a bit to catch my breath. Cody insisted I carry him on my shoulders all the way down the beach and back while my wife takes a nap. I’m Ken McGee, by the way, and this is my son, Cody.”
“I’m Joanna Zielinski, and this is Simon.” Setting her tablet aside, Joanna motioned for Ken to sit on a towel she’d spread nearby for Simon.
He accepted the invitation, settling on the towel with his legs folded beneath him. “You can play just for a few minutes, Cody, but then we have to go join Mommy for dinner, okay?”
Engrossed in a lesson from Simon on how to pack damp sand into a mold, Cody gave no sign that he’d heard his father, though Joanna believed he had. She and Ken exchanged a few remarks about the beautiful weather and the resort facilities. Standard stranger small talk.
Ken glanced toward the boys. “Your son is good with Cody.”
Watching as Simon helped the other child dump the mold and tap out the sand, Joanna smiled. “One of Simon’s friends at our church back in Georgia is a little girl with Down syndrome. He’s very fond of Michaela. She’s a sweetheart.”
Cody scooped a shovelful of sand and tossed it in the air, giggling when the sand rained down on him. Leaning back to avoid having a face full of grit, Simon looked wryly at his mother. “I think Cody likes demolition better than construction.”
Ken’s laugh sounded a bit weary. “You can say that again.”
As if he realized how his words could be interpreted, he added quickly, “Cody’s a great kid. I—my wife and I don’t mind the challenges. Wouldn’t trade him for the world.”
“Of course not,” Joanna replied gently, trying to avoid the psychologist’s penchant of reading more into statements and expressions than the speaker had intended. “It’s obvious he’s a precious little boy.”
“He is,” Ken agreed with a more natural smile, though she still thought she detected signs of stress in his eyes. “And he’s been making great strides lately developmentally. I—we’re doing great.”
She merely smiled, pretending not to notice either the slip of words or the too-hearty tone. Nor his repetition of the word great.
Ken stood then. “C’mon, buddy, let’s go find Mommy. She’ll want to clean you up before dinner.”
“See you around, Cody,” Simon called after them, earning a wave of a chubby hand in return.
“You were very sweet with Cody, Simon,” Joanna commented, proud of her son.
He was already making repairs to his road and castle. “He’s like Michaela, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he has Down syndrome, which means he doesn’t learn things as easily as you do. But he still likes to play with toys and other children, so it’s nice of you to share and to be patient helping him.”
“Yes, it is.” Adam stepped into view from behind her, his gaze on Simon. “Cody’s become a favorite around here in the past couple of days.”
Joanna’s pulse rate sped up, and she realized ruefully that for all the time that had passed, she still turned into a smitten schoolgirl whenever Adam strolled into view.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_60ecaa77-4eb9-517f-8c7d-05b400268789)
“HI, MR. ADAM. I’m building a road and a castle.”
Joanna looked through her lashes at Adam, wondering how he felt about having his son call him “mister.” Whatever the emotions, he had them well hidden. “It’s looking great, Simon. Nice digger you’ve got there.”
“It’s an excavator. The boom is hydraulic,” Simon replied off-handedly before going back to playing, making impressively realistic sound effects.
Adam looked at Joanna with a raised eyebrow. She smiled faintly as she rose to greet him. “He likes to watch educational videos about construction equipment.”
“Yeah? You like heavy equipment work, Simon?”
“I like seeing how things are made,” Simon replied, dumping a load of sand from the bucket.
Adam glanced at Joanna, and for a moment she thought she detected a hint of emotion in his eyes. Wistfulness, perhaps? Regret that there were so many things he didn’t know about his son? Or was she projecting how she might feel in his position?
Before she could decide, he schooled his expression and spoke evenly. “So, Trevor and I are having dinner at Torchlight tonight. He wanted me to invite you and Simon to join us.”
Her first reaction was to be alarmed by the seemingly innocuous invitation. She wasn’t ready for a “family” meal with Adam and Simon. Not nearly ready. She looked quickly at Simon, all too aware that he was listening even though he hadn’t paused in his play. How could she refuse without arousing his curiosity about why?
“Trevor makes a practice of dining with guests most evenings,” Adam added smoothly. “We ate with Cody and his family yesterday.”
It seemed to be an attempt to reassure her there was no need to worry about Simon learning anything she wasn’t ready to tell him. Still, the whole situation seemed fraught with potential complications. “I don’t—”
