Another Woman's Son (Harlequin Romance) (10 page)

Isabel nodded. She and Ben trooped outside. At the car, she helped Ben buckle Tony back into his seat. The baby offered her his water, and she faked a drink. Ben did his fatherly duty and took a real swallow, receiving a congratulatory grunt from his son.

They were quiet for the first few minutes of the drive home. Not home. The drive back to Faith’s house.

“No more too-good-to-be-true jokes?” Ben asked.

“I’m sorry about that.” She turned so only he could hear. “I panicked.”

“I know.” He turned onto the interstate. “But if Tony were your child?”

“Don’t worry. I’m not planning on losing my mind and snatching him away from you.” Her heart tapped out a frightened beat. It was too easy and too good to picture herself as Tony’s mother.

Ben nodded, relief unmistakable, despite his apparent effort to neither smile nor frown. “What about when you have your own children?”

“After seven years under Will’s thumb, I’m making my own life. I couldn’t be a dependent mom so I’ll have to work outside the house.”

“What would you have done if you’d had a child with Will? No.” He wiped his mouth. “I’m sorry. I won’t ask that.”

Because his wife had been the mother of Will’s child. Isabel chewed on her thumbnail, trying to look as if the reminder didn’t cut her deep.

Ben wasn’t malicious. He’d gone out of his way to help her with the house. He’d exposed his uncertainty about the day-care center. She owed him a what-if. Besides, she’d planned the maternal phase of her life with intricate detail. She already knew what crib she’d want in the nursery, the pattern she’d choose for drapes, the brand of diaper her baby would wear.

“If I’d had a child with Will, and he’d never loved Faith, I would have counted myself the luckiest stay-at-home mom in the world.”

“I figured. Why was Faith so restless? She didn’t want Tony in day care, but she wasn’t satisfied being a stay-at-home mom.”

“Faith wasn’t satisfied—period. We were different—neither of us wrong, just different. And I’ve changed, too.”

“Because of Will. Maybe we shouldn’t talk about it. Not in front of him, anyway.” He nodded toward the rearview mirror.

“You’re right.” She had no interest in Ben’s current feelings for her sister. “Who knows how much he takes in? That cottage seemed like a nice place.”

“I think so, too. Tony had a good time.”

“What happens next?” she asked.

“I suggested he and I visit again, while you were talking with Ray, and Mrs. Nash agreed.”

“Cool.” She still had doubts. “We’re both novices, Ben. Maybe you should ask someone with a child what she does for day care.”

“We love Tony. That makes us experts. Working parents do this all the time.”

“It’s terrifying. I’d be happier with a police report on everyone who works there. You should ask Mom to visit.”

He flashed a relieved smile. “That’s a good idea. She already seems stronger, but I’d like her to feel involved with Tony.”

He surprised her. “Why?”

“She’s trying her best to be a good grandma, but I think you and I assumed she saw more of Tony than she did. Faith and Will must have risked using your mother as an excuse to leave town together.”

“You’re sure of that now?” The possibility had hurt enough.

“I know Tony. He likes hanging out with your mom and dad, but he prefers having you or me around, too. If he’d spent as much time as Faith claimed with your parents, he’d know them better.”

This morning’s comfortable solidarity departed.

Isabel scooted back in her seat.

All the more reason to be smarter than Faith and resist her attraction to Ben. He’d said last night had changed them. It didn’t have to. Was she about to lose her head over a few passionate kisses? She’d never forget nor regret them, but it was like Ben always said. Tony came first.

If she lost Ben, she might lose Tony, too.

“W
HAT DO YOU THINK
, Amelia?” Ben asked.

She looked up from the brochure she’d read front to back. “I’d like to see the place in person.”

He and Amelia were sharing the living room couch and coffee in china cups that felt too delicate for his big hands. “I’d appreciate your opinion. Do you want to drive over tomorrow? You can watch Tony with the other children and then check out the place with me on another tour.”

“Sounds great.” Smiling, she turned back to the front of the brochure. “Faith would be glad you asked me.”

George, standing by the fireplace, sounded as if
he’d sucked coffee into his lungs. He bent toward the fire Ben had laid to take the chill off, but then he turned, his eyes unexpectedly warm for his wife. “You said her name the way you used to—not as if you wanted to die.”

Ben exhaled and set his cup down. “We all have to talk about Faith normally,” he said. “Or Tony won’t remember her without the feelings we have for her now. He’ll be better off if she’s just his mom, not a saint.”

“I know.” Amelia took a sugar cube and dropped it into her coffee. “I keep praying someone made a mistake. That Will and she will suddenly stroll into the house—they’ll want to know what we’re doing here. Why Isabel is selling his things. Why we’re running Faith’s home.”

Ben gritted his teeth to keep his mouth shut. He’d be tempted to kill Will if Amelia’s fantasy came true.

George put both hands on Amelia’s shoulders. “You’re torturing yourself with ideas like that. And don’t forget Isabel. She’s been patient, but you don’t want her to think Faith mattered more to you. We still have a daughter.”

“And you have Tony.” Even as he made himself say it—and mean it— Ben wished he could take his boy away.

Amelia leaned back, tears squeezing between her closed eyelids, as she rested against George’s hands. Ben felt a father’s empathy. Amelia needed
her grandson, to remember a part of Faith would always be alive in Tony. He should have seen that before now.

“Where is our boy?” George’s bluff tone rang false. “Isabel’s putting him to bed tonight?”

“Naturally, Tony knows Isabel better than us, honey,” Amelia said. “You’re grieving for Faith, so you want to come first with him, but he loves us all, and we won’t let so much time pass between visits from now on.”

“You’re welcome as long as you can stay,” Ben said.

“Thanks.” George returned to contemplating the mantel, and Ben suspected the other man resented being welcomed to his own daughter’s home.

Ben had always assumed Amelia was more likely to want Tony, but he’d better keep an eye on George, too.

A
FTER BREAKFAST
with Ray the next morning, Isabel initialed so many papers her hand began to cramp.

“Leah’s going to ask you about giving so much to Tony.”

Isabel shuddered, a natural response to the chill that ran down her spine. “What does Leah have to do with my business?”

“She’s posed one unseemly question after another. I’ve been less competently examined in court.”

“You can tell her the truth about our plans before
she badgers us to death. Will claimed Tony as his nephew. Even she knows how seriously he took that responsibility.”

“Which, I must confess, puzzled me until you explained their true relationship.”

Isabel paused, pen in air. “Why? He was a responsible man. He ran a successful business. His employees counted on him. Why shouldn’t a child?”

“Business came first with Will. Children? No. I never understood his interest in Tony. I thought he’d get bored.”

“Not with his own son.” Saying the words plied her barely closed wounds with a knife.

“Sorry, Isabel.” Ray slid the next page under her pen. “And we need to talk about the business. I’m not sure why the officers over there haven’t asked to meet with us. I’ve tried to give you breathing room, but we have to protect your interests.”

“I don’t have the experience to run Barker Synthetics. Tony’s and my interests may take a dive unless I sell before my stewardship ruins the company.”

Ray twisted his mouth. “I’ll help you find someone capable.”

“Even with help, I don’t have the experience. The employees deserve better management.”

“I wish you’d rethink.” He stacked the papers still in front of him. “I’ll arrange a meeting at the company. Make no decisions until we talk to your employees.”

She stared at him. Not even a clock ticked in the silence of his office. “This isn’t my world, Ray. I don’t have to think it over.” At last—an easy decision.

T
HE RAIN-WET STREETS
had begun to freeze as Isabel drove the slippery black ribbon of road back to Ben’s house that evening. Half-frozen, covered in more dust and dying for a cup of coffee, she parked in front of the garage and hurried up the front steps.

Tony’s laughter echoed down the gold-wood stairs again. Dinner smells raised a ruckus in her empty belly. Dishes rattled from the kitchen, but she looked up, drawn to her nephew.

“Isabel?” her mother called from the kitchen. “Is that you?”

“Coming, Mom.” She shouldn’t make herself part of Tony’s nighttime habits anyway. Amelia turned from the sink, a saucer dripping suds from her hands. “We tried to call you.”

“I left my cell phone in the car.” People were still calling to sympathize with her loss of Will. Hearing from her well-meaning friends was nice, but she felt like a phony, so she’d begun to ignore the house phone, too. “Did you have a good day with Tony?”

A smile lit her mom’s eyes. Even her skin had more color tonight. “It was
fine.
” She used the word the way they did in old movies. “Ben signed him up for the center you saw yesterday.”

“I assumed there’d be a waiting list.”

Her mother nodded, unconcerned. “Two siblings are probably moving, but Ben agreed to let George and me look after Tony until the list comes open.”

“That could be months. You’re willing to stay?”

“We don’t mind. That other family is supposed to hear about the husband’s transfer in the next few weeks.”

A tinge of sadness colored Isabel’s relief. “I guess he’s really going to stay with someone else while Ben works.”

Amelia seemed surprised. “Surely you didn’t offer to look after Tony?”

Isabel shook her head. “You’d disapprove?”

“You’ve been our daughter and then Will’s wife. You should be your own person for a while now, not Tony’s caregiver.”

Isabel agreed with her mother’s reasons, but she added her deepening feelings for Ben to the caution. “Tony will be all right at The Children’s Cottage, won’t he?”

Amelia dried her hands and put one arm around her. “Your sister was lucky that you love her son as if he were yours.”

These unintentional jabs were starting to get on
her nerves. “We were a family.” One that Faith hadn’t valued.

“I used to envy your closeness to Faith. A mother likes to think her daughter will come to her first with all her secrets.” Amelia hugged her again, as if to soften a hint of accusation. “I wanted even her stories about everyday life, how she persuaded Tony to eat beets or keep his sneakers on when he hates to wear shoes.”

“I thought you and she were closer, that she told you everything.” Isabel held her breath. She’d offered the perfect opening if Faith had confided about Will.

With a hurt look and quick steps, her mother returned to the sink. “Apparently Faith didn’t talk as much as either of us assumed.” She began to wash a plate. “It’s funny. When your child dies, you realize how little you knew about her. She left my house fourteen years ago for college, and she never lived under my roof again. She always told me exactly what she wanted me to know, nothing more. I can’t figure out what she was doing in that car with Will. With their suitcases and Tony.”

“I wish you’d stop worrying about it.” She prayed her mother would let that loose thread go before she worried the truth out of it.

“She didn’t call to say she was coming.”

Answers would not bring her comfort. “She probably wanted to surprise you.”

“She’s done that before.” Her mom sounded hopeful. Her hands stilled. “I guess we’ll never know.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Isabel linked her arms around her mom’s neck. “She loved you. That’s all you need to remember.”

“It’s not enough. I thought she was here, safe in her own home, and then the police called, and then Ben. My world collapsed.” She realized what she’d said. “Not my whole world. I love you, Isabel. You know that?”

She nodded, swallowing tears.

“I’m not ignoring the fact that you’ve lost your sister, but I can’t seem to understand what happened with Faith.”

“What’s to understand?” Instinctively, she looked for Ben, her guilt at keeping secrets so strong that she immediately worried her mother knew about Tony.

Thank goodness common sense took over. If her mom knew, she’d have said something.

Amelia went on, washing a large plate. “Faith changed over the years. She thought I was prying if I asked where she planned to go on vacation, what she’d done when she came back. She didn’t want me to know what she spent for something as simple as a necklace I’d never seen before.” Amelia handed Isabel the plate and Isabel began to dry. “I didn’t care about the cost. I only asked if Ben gave it to her. I was glad she’d found a man who still remembered to surprise her after so many years of marriage.”

Isabel concentrated on the plate, but she couldn’t
hide from an image of Will, standing behind Faith fastening a necklace. Will had killed her love for him, but each possible new demonstration of his feelings for Faith hurt her. Why the hell had he gone after her sister?

“Ben often gave Faith jewelry.” Small pieces, expensive ones, shiny bangles, as he’d once described them, that he thought Faith might like. However, Isabel wouldn’t be asking Ben if he’d given Faith this necklace her mother was talking about.

“Why did questions make her so angry?” Amelia asked.

“I don’t know.” She couldn’t lie anymore, and she wouldn’t betray her sister to her mom.

“I wish I did. I can’t forget strange moments like that. Maybe I should have pushed her.”

“You have to forget, Mom. Haven’t you seen how sad Dad is? Part of it comes from worrying about you.” Isabel reached for the next plate. “You know there’s a dishwasher?”

“I don’t like to use them. Never have.”

“You’re a firm believer in taking the hard way.”

“No machine washes a dish as well as I.” She leaned on one foot to kiss her younger daughter’s cheek. “Besides, I like having you beside me, helping.”

Isabel held back another rush of tears. They’d all lost Faith. They all had to mourn and survive, but her mother would never learn the truth about Faith from her.

B
EN SCRATCHED
out his fourth false start at designing a tree house for his son. He scrunched up the paper and tossed it into the wastebasket beside his desk.

“What’s that?”

He tensed at the sound of Isabel’s voice, glad she’d come home but uneasy that he thought of her return as coming home. “Tony and I stopped at the builder’s supply store for caulk today, and he saw some tree houses. I’d like to build one for him, but I seem to be better at chemistry than design.”

“You can’t build out there now. The ground’s frozen.” She came to his desk.

“The trees aren’t,” he said.

“He’s only eighteen months old. It’s early for tree climbing.”

He laughed. She was right, but he wasn’t a reckless father. “Calm down. I won’t let him climb a tree, Isabel. He’s not tall enough to reach a branch.”

“Not tall enough to—what’s wrong with you?” She slumped into the fat leather chair beside him.

“After a day with Amelia, I feel all but inept. She changes diapers one-handed, offers Tony a drink before he even knows he’s thirsty, and she quizzed Mrs. Nash as if the poor woman was up for senate confirmation.”

With an affectionate laugh, Isabel kicked off her shoes and pulled her feet into the chair.

“By the time we left The Children’s Cottage, I expected them to offer her a job.”

“But that should be good. Don’t you feel better about signing him up now?”

“What if I proved she’d be a better choice to raise Tony than I am?” He sat back, almost sick at putting his worst fears into words.

Isabel tightened her arms around her legs, a picture of defensiveness. “We could tell the truth and explain. Then you wouldn’t have to be so concerned.”

He stared, shocked, dismayed. “Every time you bring this up, you scare me.”

“My mother just asked me some questions about Faith that I couldn’t answer. She and Dad might make the right choice, but either way, I don’t like trying to put my mom off the scent.”

“You make it sound as if taking this small chance would make us all one big happy family.” He shook his head. “What’s to stop them from deciding they want Faith’s child, and they have more right to raise him than a man who’s no blood relation at all?”

“What have Mom and Dad ever done to make you think they’re capable of that? You are Tony’s father.”

“In your eyes. In Faith’s, I was the guy she was leaving.” He dragged his pencil in a short deep line that tore through the top sheet of paper. “Your parents could easily persuade themselves they feel the same.”

“So you’re building tree houses?”

Isabel, his accomplice, seemed on the verge of breaking. “You’re tired.” Wan with exhaustion was more like it. “Let’s argue when we’re not likely to lose our tempers.”

“I’m too restless to sleep.”

He took a second look at her. She was restless and she’d come to sit with him? “What are your mom and George doing?”

“I don’t know. Reading the paper in the living room. Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“No.” His strange new emotions for Isabel troubled him almost as much as the chance that she might let something slip about Tony.

He’d like to lean across the corner of his desk and ease the tension from her vulnerable mouth. Her skin, so soft, seemed to have bewitched him. Ever since he’d kissed her, he’d dreamed of touching her again.

They couldn’t talk about that. Not without trust neither of them felt. She wanted him to tell the truth, and his worst fear was that she would. If he was smart, he’d start looking for reasons to send George and Amelia back to Pennsylvania and Isabel back to her own house.

He couldn’t do it. Tony liked having his Iz-bell with him, and the Deavers were getting to know Tony better.

He turned to the next blank page on his pad and
changed the subject. “Maybe I should try a house on a platform?”

“You can buy them.”

“I want to give Tony something I’ve made with my own hands.”

“You don’t have to cover every father-and-son activity right now.” She stood. “Ben, I know you better than you know yourself. You wouldn’t be panicking over that graph paper—” she pointed “—if you weren’t afraid you’re doing the wrong thing, too.”

As she walked out, her scent, suddenly so familiar and seductive, wafted his way. His feet moved as he tried to follow, without a rational thought in his head.

“Night, Ben.” She didn’t look back.

He stared after her, dull-witted. He half stood but sank back down. He was forcing Isabel to lie. And he needed her to choose him and Tony over her own parents. How could any woman resist?

T
HE NEXT DAY
, Isabel opened Will’s sock drawer and burst into tears. She cried over the thought of folding his socks and putting them away. She’d believed she’d been his wife, his true love, had liked the intimacy of doing small things for him. Putting socks away didn’t seem so intimate when she considered he’d probably hired someone to do it after she’d left.

The doorbell pealed and she jumped, but then she
slammed the drawer shut and flew down the stairs, hoping she’d find Ben. Her fierce need to see him worried her, as if beyond her control, she cared more than she should. She wiped her eyes and yanked the front door open.

No Ben. It was Leah.

She looked far from prostrate. Leah was wearing her I’ll-fight-to-the-last-breath-for-my-son expression. A familiar sight during Isabel’s marriage.

“Leah.”

The other woman gathered the lapels of a black wool coat that looked as chic on her as it would have on the thirty-year-younger women for whom it had been designed. “You aren’t glad to see me.”

“I’m surprised. You didn’t feel well.”

“I thought you might need help—” she stepped inside, urging Isabel backward “—with my son’s things.”

“Didn’t the delivery service bring your china—and other stuff?”

Leah nodded, but she searched the hall and wandered toward the first doorway, peering inside. She wanted more. “I noticed few of Will’s belongings in the shipment.”

Isabel shook her head at her former mother-in-law’s back. In a normal relationship, she might have expected “I gave you that china. It’s yours still.” With Leah, she was lucky she hadn’t had to sign a receipt.

Isabel shut the door with zest. “Back in battle mode?”

“You and Will intended to end your marriage. Surely I’m more entitled to my son’s things than you.”

Normally as warm and fuzzy as a porcupine, Will’s death seemed to have sent Leah over an unhealthy edge. Isabel smiled—with a touch of rage. “He didn’t mention giving you everything he owned in his will, but I’m in the middle of sorting his socks. Maybe you’d like to finish?”

Leah whirled, and the coat spread with a dramatic flourish she would have loved to see in a mirror. Her concern had nothing to do with Isabel’s sarcasm. “What are you doing with his clothing?”

“Packing them for Goodwill. What would you do with his clothes?”

“He was my son, Isabel.” Her pain was real—and savage. The suffering of any mother who’d lost her son. Leah would never be Isabel’s best friend, but she couldn’t turn her back on the other woman’s pain. Especially since it seemed to be having an unhinging effect.

“You should have come to the funeral, Leah. You needed to say goodbye.” She’d never run Will’s life again. He’d evaded her clutches once and for all.

“I’m here now. Why don’t I finish his room for you?”

“No.” Her short surge of sympathy faded. No Barker would ever steamroll her again. “We can work together if you like. I still have things in our room, as well.”

“What are you doing with your belongings?”

“Culling whatever I won’t need in a smaller place.” She started up the stairs ahead of Leah, biting her tongue instead of reminding Will’s mom her own belongings were off-limits. “Feel free to hang your coat in the closet.”

“I’ll keep it. This place feels like ice. You can’t afford to heat?”

Isabel looked up at the tall ceilings, down at the cold, marble-topped table and the roses that hadn’t been changed since she’d released the cleaning woman three days ago. Then she stared at her own pinkish hands. “I didn’t notice.”