Cherishing You (Thirsty Hearts Book 3) (24 page)

S
unlight streamed
through the window of his father’s home office, belying the frigid temperatures outside. Many of their employees took the week off between Christmas and New Year’s, but not Tom.

Jonah agreed to meet his father to discuss a new acquisition target, but he also intended to bring up Trevor’s revelation.

They meandered through analyst reports and spreadsheets, trading data points and making notes. The entire day, half of Jonah’s mental energy churned over when and how to broach the subject.

Finally, at four thirty, his father declared it was time to knock off. He poured Jonah and himself a Scotch and agreed to reconvene the following Monday.

“Did you decide on your plans for New Year’s Eve?”

“I called Graham, and he’s coming up from Austin. You know Jesse Hampton. He’s having a party.”

“Good. A guy’s night may be just what you need. Two bachelors out on the town. See if you can’t get yourself into some trouble.”

His father cracked half smile, leaving Jonah as good an opening as any.

“I think I’ve gotten into enough trouble, and so have you.”

Tom frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“This is tough, so I’m just going to say it. I’ve been in touch with Trevor Stiges. It’s a long story, but I’ve helped him out a couple of times. His mother—Arianna—tried to kill herself and had to check into a facility. She gave him some news when he visited her last.”

Tom stared, arms folded. Jonah continued.

“She said you’re his father.”

“That’s not true. I don’t know why he would tell you that. Arianna Stiges told me years ago that I wasn’t Trevor’s father. Given how much money she wanted from me, if I were, she would have told me.”

“According to him, she didn’t want you involved in Trevor’s upbringing.”

Tom rocked his head back in disbelief. “She loved me—adored me—back then. Why wouldn’t she want me in the boy’s life? No.” He waved his hand and scowled. “I’m not his father.”

“Why would she suddenly tell Trevor that, knowing how simple a paternity test would be?”

“You said she’s getting treatment for a suicide attempt. She has problems. Always has. Why are you talking with Trevor Stiges under any circumstances? Chances are they’re all a little nuts.”

Jonah’s head began to ache. “He’s not crazy. He’s just a kid. It could be that she examined her life and decided to tell the truth. Did you ever see a paternity test?”

“No. She said she and her husband had one done. I believed her. She was already leaving the man, and she wanted me to leave your mother. Having my child would be a way to hang onto me. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Easy way to resolve this. Get tested now.”

“I am not submitting to a paternity test.”

“Then I’ll get tested. There are other ways to establish that he’s your son.”

“How could you even think about doing that to your mother?”

Jonah laughed without smiling. “You did this to my mother. I only want to know the truth, and so does Trevor.”

“You sound very involved with this young man’s drama. I don’t get it.” Tom kept shaking his head, his face pinched in disgust.

“He wants to meet you.”

“That won’t happen.” His father lifted his head and glared at Jonah. “You need to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“He could cause you trouble.” Jonah recounted how he met Trevor.

“All the more reason not to talk with him. There’s no way to compel me to take another paternity test. He’s not a minor. There’s not question of financial support. If he wants to make this public, tell him his mother will be branded a whore. That couldn’t be good for her state of mind.”

“Doesn’t it bother you that you may have a son that you’ve never known?”

His father didn’t even bother to shrug. “I’ve never known him for reasons, Jonah, and I can’t see how it does anyone any good to act as if I’m the boy’s father now. It sounds like all he’d want from me is money, and the bank is closed to the Stiges clan.”

“You feel nothing?”

“There’s more to family than blood, Jonah.”

“That’s not what you taught me. Our family has been fucked up for as long as I remember. We have completely different value systems in a lot of ways. We fight, but you’ve always told me and Vivienne that—regardless of our disagreements—we’re family. Blood. That matters, you said. Apparently, that’s just bullshit to you.”

“It’s more complicated than that. Your mother is my wife. Our children are my children. That’s what matters. There’s a sanctity to that. Anything else…Well, I made a mistake, but if what you’re saying is true, Arianna clearly didn’t want me involved. I have no real connection to Trevor, and if your mother found it, this would crush her.”

“More like she’d crush you. I can’t fathom our mother crumbling under the weight of anything.”

“That’s your perspective. I’m telling you mine. I have no intention of setting a new place next year at Christmas dinner for some child that was born under these circumstances.”

“I thought I knew the lowest of your lows, but you’ve just bottomed out again.”

“Jonah, be reasonable.”

He could hardly look at the man he called his father for forty-two years. The conversation looped in his mind. How could his father care so little? Jonah pondered if he bluffed, hoping that Jonah would see his coldness and encourage Trevor to give up.

Hurting his mother seemed inevitable. She knew her husband had affairs, so at some point, she must have wondered if this were possible. But postulating was miles away from suspecting.

She could already know and simply say nothing, which fit perfectly with what Jonah knew about his parents’ marriage. In that case, she wouldn’t want someone pointing out a conveniently forgotten truth, but Jonah couldn’t drop it. Now that Trevor raised the question, he had to follow through.

A few months ago, this might not matter so much to him, but every child deserved to know their true family.

Jonah dropped his tumbler of Scotch on the desk. What was true family?

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe blood doesn’t make family. That mistaken notion can cost you.”

Tom tipped his head and bored into Jonah with a quizzical and suspicious look. “Now you’re talking in riddles.”

Jonah rose to his feet. Then, he picked up his glass and drained it. “I’m leaving.”

“We still have topics to discuss. For example, your campaign. You’ve said nothing to me or to Lester about your plans. With Shannon having your baby and your not being together, we have to address this problem.”

“Not we. I have to decide what to do about the trouble I’ve gotten myself into with Shannon. If I have something of relevance to share with you, I’ll call you. Otherwise, I don’t think you and I have anything else to say to one another on that topic.”

“Fine.”

Jonah sighed and pressed once more. “Dad, give some thought to meeting with Trevor because whether or not you’re involved, I’m going to find out if he’s my brother.”

“Half-brother.”

“He’s not your half-son.”

“I don’t think he’s my son at all.”

“We’ll see.”

He walked out of his father’s office and down the hall to the living room as his mother strode in from the kitchen.

“Jonah, hello. I didn’t know you were stopping by today. Tell me, how is Shannon?”

“Fine. I saw her yesterday at the doctor.” Jonah wouldn’t say anything to his parents until he had no other recourse. If they knew about the test, his parents would hold the questioned paternity over Shannon’s head for the rest of their lives.

“Everything is okay, then?”

His mother’s inquiry disconcerted him. ”Yes. Why?”

“I would simply like to know what’s happening with my grandchild. With Shannon’s history, I think it’s best that you stay in contact with her. At least, when she lived with you, I didn’t have to worry.”

“She’s fine. I talk with her. We’ve just had…I don’t want to talk about this.” He squeezed his temples between his thumb and forefingers.

Sheila caught Jonah by the sleeve, pulling his hand away from his face to look him in the eye. “You don’t have to tell me what the problem is. Honestly, I don’t care. But Jonah, you must keep an eye on her. Please.”

“I am, Mother. Don’t worry. I didn’t know you were so concerned about Shannon’s welfare.”

“If being concerned about my grandson or daughter requires that I be concerned about Shannon, I’m capable. Believe it or not, after the initial shock, I made an attempt to get used to the woman, and if you’re having a baby, well…” Sheila sighed. “A grandchild is a grandchild. Who knows if I’ll ever get one from Vivienne.”

His mother pursed her lips and rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

“Thank you, Mom.”

Jonah hugged his mother, trying to remember the last time he’d done so with any genuine feeling. They all went through the motions of being a family, but sometimes he wondered what was real. She pulled away, and Jonah took a look back at his father’s office.

“Did you and your father have a serious talk?”

“Yes.”

“About the baby.”

Jonah’s face heated. “In a sense.”

Sheila brushed the back of her fingers over Jonah’s cheek and lowered her voice. “Don’t let anything he says get to you. Your father and I have been married forever, and I’ve learnt in dealing with him that half of his advice is good and reliable, and the other half is utter rubbish. You’ll know which is which when you hear it.”

He chuckled and told her goodbye.

His mother was the one with good advice. He loved her, but he had to know the truth about Trevor as much as he had to know the truth about Shannon’s baby. It mattered—even though he also knew a blood test couldn’t tell you who to love.

E
ven with her coat off
, the suffocating heat in Dr. Simone Baker’s waiting room made Shannon sweat. She picked up a magazine and fanned herself.

“Sorry again about the heater. We have a call into maintenance. It won’t shut off!” The pink cheeked receptionist wiped the back of her neck. “Thankfully, it’s just out here. Dr. Baker’s therapy room is much cooler.”

Shannon smiled and nodded and thought about running out. Her promise to Kim and Penny anchored her to the chair.

“Shannon.”

Dr. Baker’s easy voice cheered her a bit. This isn’t going to be so bad.

“Hi. Merry Christmas. I know it’s late, but I haven’t seen you since October.”

“Thanks. Merry Christmas to you too. Let’s head back.”

Once in the therapy room, sitting alone and cooling off on the couch, Shannon doubted the point of this visit again. Telling the story to another person? Her toes curled in her shoes.

The doctor sat in a side chair to the right of the sofa, and Shannon darted her eyes left.

“What brings you in?”

Biting the bullet, Shannon began the story with arriving at Lindsay’s house and went step by step through the following twenty-four hours. Then, without stopping, Shannon told the therapist about Jonah. Dr. Baker didn’t comment until she finished.

“First of all, I am so dreadfully sorry that you were violated in that way. It’s inexcusable. There’s no wiggle room, Shannon, what that man did was a crime.” Shannon flinched. “What goes through your mind when I say that to you?”

“I know it, but I don’t know it. I came onto him. I know I didn’t want it. But then I think how was he supposed to know that I didn’t mean it?”

Dr. Baker held Shannon’s gaze, steadily. “Because he knew you had been given a drug. He knew that you could barely walk. He took advantage of you, plain and simple. I understand your confusion. You don’t know what happened, and your—I hesitate to say—friends are telling you that you’re culpable.”

“None of them would use the word ‘culpable.’” Shannon managed a tiny smile, which Dr. Baker returned.

“Maybe not, but the spirit of what they said feeds into many of the things you have thought about yourself—so I get that you’ve internalized that thinking. Familiar lies can be easier to believe than unfamiliar truths.”

The doctor’s words slowly sank in, and a bomb went off inside her. Throughout her life, a series of men had used her when she was too young to object, too high to care, or too vulnerable to speak up. One after the other.

Sure, she occasionally stumbled onto a good one, but the rest—users and abusers all of them. Shannon didn’t think she could take another one of those in her life.

“Why do men like that always find me? How do they know that I’m the one they can fuck around with and treat like shit?”

“Is that who you are? The way you frame the question assumes that you are someone they can fuck around with and treat like shit, but you hide it, and somehow they know anyway. Is that who you are?”

“No.” The punch of the Shannon’s answer reverberated in the office. Her decisions and her behavior didn’t show it at times, but that was not who she was.

“Good. So let’s think this through from the perspective of someone who isn’t to be fucked around with and who isn’t to be treated like shit. What would that look like?”

Her shoulders sank. “She would have gone to the police, and she wouldn’t have cared what anyone thought.”

“What makes you say that?”

“She would stand up for herself.”

“But you had reasons for not going to the police, right? What were they?”

“That next morning? I just wanted to get out of there. I didn’t want to listen to people telling me how I asked for it and what great guy Aaron is. And I didn’t think anyone would believe me.”

“And later—for example—after your friends suggested that you tell the police.”

“I still didn’t think anyone would believe my story—especially after I waited so long. Now, there’s really no proof. Why rehash it all for nothing? I have enough to deal with. I’m pregnant. I don’t have my boyfriend to support me like I thought I would. I don’t have a place to live and half my things got destroyed by basically a tornado. I have my daughter and the custody situation. I’m trying to start a new career. Oh, and now my ex-husband is dead, and I had to arrange to have his body cremated and pick him up in a box.”

Her neck tensed at the length of the list.