Shameless (8 page)

My mum is
alive!
Pippa had dreamed about having a mother and had imagined many times how she might look. Now, with her father's admission, she realized she might actually get to meet her. The funny thing was there was no one close to her with whom she could share her wonderful, startling news. Nathan was too young, and she wasn't on good terms with her aunts. The only other person she thought might be the least bit interested was her almost-friend Devon Flynn.

But that door had been closed, and she was the one who'd shut it.

Pippa forced her thoughts away from Devon and focused her attention on her father. “Where is my mum? Can I meet her?”

His face looked strained as he replied, “Your mother, Jennifer Fairchild—now Jennifer Fairchild Hart—is living on her grandparents' ranch in Texas.”

“How long have you known she was alive? How did you find her?”

“Uncle Angus found her for me a long time ago.”

Pippa stared at her father. Her first thought—along with a spurt of anger—was
Why didn't you say something to me sooner?
But obviously there was a lot more going on here than she'd been told. Maybe there was a good reason why her father had kept her mother's identity a secret all these years. Maybe her mother wasn't someone she would ever want to meet. Or maybe she hadn't wanted to be a teenage mother. Maybe she'd colluded with her parents in the lie about her own and her baby's deaths. Pippa had a million questions, and she wasn't sure where to start.

Devon had admitted her father spent a lot of nights at the Flynn supper table, but it seemed Devon might actually have underestimated the depth of her father's relationship with Angus Flynn. “I didn't realize you and Angus were so close. I mean, that he would go to so much trouble to help you.”

Her father's lips twisted sardonically. “I think at the time Angus was more interested in punishing my father than in helping me.”

“You'll have to explain that.”

“Let's sit down.” He crossed to one of the studded leather couches by the fireplace and sat, gesturing Pippa to the couch across from him. She sat on the arm, too excited to settle down.

“Long before you were born, my father told Angus's wife about an affair Angus was having.”

Pippa slid off the arm onto the couch. “Holy cow. What happened then?”

“Angus's wife, Fiona, was so upset that she left him for a while. It seems Angus had been waiting for the right moment to pay King back for the trouble he'd caused between him and his wife. Angus told me that King had lied to me, that my child—and my girlfriend Jennie—were both still alive.”

“That's unbelievable.”

“It struck me the same way at the time,” he admitted. “Apparently, Jennie's parents had told her the baby died at birth. Actually, they'd placed you in a foster home in Texas.

“Angus secretly helped me establish paternity so I could retrieve you from your foster family. Once I had legal custody, he helped get both of us out of the country without my father's knowledge.”

“Why would he do that?”

He pursed his lips. “To hurt King.”

Pippa's brow furrowed as she tried to understand what he was implying. Her father must have seen her confusion, because he continued, “At the time, I was a favorite child. You can imagine my father's agitation—his outrage and frustration—when I simply disappeared. He never knew what happened to me or why.” A muscle worked in his jaw before he added, “I wanted him to suffer the way I had when I believed both you and Jennie were dead.”

“So to pay him back for lying to you, you left without telling your father where you were going.” Pippa met his gaze. “And you stayed gone for twenty years.”

Her father nodded. “King had told me more than once that I was too young to be a father. He told me that I was ‘lucky' when Jennie's parents disappeared with her and my unborn child. I disagreed vehemently with him about that, and about my ability to be a parent.” He made a disgusted sound in his throat. “But I believed he was being honest with me when he told me you and Jennie were both dead. I will never, ever, forgive him for that.”

“So why did you come back here? You said it wasn't because of me. So what's changed? Does your decision have something to do with my mother?”

He threaded his hands together so tightly his knuckles turned white. “A year ago Jennie was widowed.”

Pippa's eyes widened with sudden understanding. “Do you still love her? Are you going after her? Can I meet her?”

Tears glistened in his eyes as he met her gaze. “She still believes you're dead.”

Pippa's jaw dropped. “You took me without telling her that she had a living child? You just
stole
me and ran?”

Her father rose abruptly and paced away toward a picture window that offered a spectacular view of the Tetons. “Her parents hated me. I couldn't take the chance that they would try to take you away from me if I contacted her. I wanted Jennie with me, but it was too risky!”

Pippa tried to imagine what it must have been like for him to make such a choice. But it was hard to feel compassion for her father when she felt so resentful for having grown up without her living, breathing, absent mother. What her father had done didn't seem fair to either her or her mother.

His voice was gruff as he continued, “I was only seventeen. My father had lied to me, so I couldn't turn to him. I had Uncle Angus's support, but that might not have been enough if Jennie's parents went to a judge to try and stop me.”

He turned back to face her, his jaw hard. “I had to choose,” he said. “So I chose you.”

It took Pippa a moment to work out exactly what her father had given up when he'd taken her and fled. And then it struck her.
He chose his child over the woman he loved.
She stared wide-eyed at her father, realizing that over the years he must have reflected on that choice many times—and perhaps regretted it. Maybe, in hindsight, he'd realized he should have chosen Pippa's mother over the child she'd borne him.

What an awful decision to have to make.

Pippa wasn't sure what to think, what to feel. No wonder her father worried about her raising the child of a man she loathed. He'd
loved
her mother, and he'd still struggled with the choice he'd made to raise her on his own.

Pippa felt an ache in her throat. Maybe her father had regrets, but she'd never felt unloved. She'd always been cared for.

She looked at him and saw a great deal that had been obscured before his revelation. Now she understood the darkness in his soul. Now she understood why he'd always worked from dawn to dark, falling exhausted into bed. He'd been exorcising demons, hoping to sleep without dreaming of the woman he'd loved and lost. No wonder both his first wife and Nathan's mother had left. They both must have known that something was missing from his relationships with them, even if they didn't know what it was. Now Pippa knew. Her father's heart had always belonged to his first love.

Then Pippa realized the crux of the problem her father faced. If he was ever going to reconcile with Jennifer Hart, he was going to have to admit to her what he'd done. That he'd chosen their child over its mother. That he'd taken their baby—without telling her it was alive—and run.

No wonder he hadn't told Pippa the truth. He'd known she would want to meet her mother. And there was no telling what her mother would do when she found out how Matthew Grayhawk had betrayed her. How he'd manipulated and deceived them
both,
because Pippa was as much a victim of her father's decision as her mother had been.

Her father had waited patiently without speaking for her to work it all out. She met his tortured gaze and felt her heart squeeze. “And all these years…you never told my mother the truth?”

He shook his head.

“Oh, Daddy.” She resisted the urge to wrap her arms around him and offer comfort. He'd made the choice he believed was best for her—even if Pippa thought it was the wrong one. But she was pretty sure that her mother would never be able to forgive her father for what he'd done.

M
ATT HAD AVOIDED
responding to his daughter's question about whether he still loved his childhood sweetheart because he wasn't sure of the answer. How could his feelings for his first love possibly have survived all these years? But his heart leapt at the mere thought of seeing Jennie again. Unfortunately, their love had been doomed from the moment Jennie got pregnant.

Matt's guts were already tied in knots after admitting to his daughter that he'd kept Jennie's existence a secret all these years. He was walking into uncharted territory, and he had the feeling that at any moment the earth could fall out from under him.

“Why are you telling me all this now?” Pippa asked.

“Because I want you to think long and hard about the choice you have to make. Because once you make it, once you decide to keep this child, there's no going back. There's no second-guessing. There's no changing your mind.”

“It's obvious what you think I should do,” she retorted.

Matt forced himself to stay calm in the face of his daughter's anger. “I worry that you don't realize just how big a job you're taking on.”

“You're wrong! You've made your point, Daddy. I wish you would stop harping on the subject.”

But he couldn't let it go. How many times in those early days had he felt overwhelmed? How many times had he despaired that he would ever be able to raise a healthy, happy child all by himself? It was hard to believe how naive he'd been, how easy he'd thought fatherhood would be.

Having a mother for his daughter was the main reason he'd married his first wife. He wanted to spare his daughter that sort of mistake if he could. There were so many loving parents who wanted to adopt a child, and she had her whole life ahead of her. “Pippa, you need to listen to me.”

“I've heard enough!” She whirled and fled the room.

He started to call her back, but the words died in his throat. He'd hoped that by sharing his own experience he could make his teenage daughter understand the difficulties of being a single parent. The hell of it was he still wasn't sure he'd made the right choice. Could he have made his escape with both Jennie
and
their daughter? Why hadn't he tried harder to make it happen?

How many times had he stopped himself from contacting Jennie to let her know that they had a child, that he still loved her, and that he wanted her to join him? But she'd been a minor, only fifteen when Pippa was born. That was why he'd believed his father when he'd said Jennie was dead. He'd known she was very young to be having a child. That's why they'd both been so careful to use birth control. But no method was foolproof, and Jennie had gotten pregnant.

Matt sank into the chair at his father's desk and steepled his hands against his mouth to keep the sound of anguish from escaping his throat. He didn't often let himself remember how much in love he'd been, because it hurt too much.

The day he'd met her, Jennie had been fourteen. Standing only five foot three, her body had been lithe and athletic, with a tiny waist and small breasts. They'd literally bumped into each other as he was entering the gym at Jackson High School and she was leaving it. He was there for football wind sprints. She was on the girls' volleyball team. She'd looked up at him in the moment of contact, and froze.

Her long blond hair was tied in a ponytail that trailed halfway down her back. A fringe of bangs covered her eyebrows and left him looking down into a pair of soft gray eyes and a cupid mouth rounded into an O of surprise.

He'd put both hands on her arms to balance her until she was steady, then grinned down at her and said, “Why, hello there, little lady.”

He'd been charmed by the blush that rose on her cheeks and impressed that she kept looking him in the eye as she said, “You're Matt Grayhawk.”

“Guilty. What's your name?”

“I'm Jennie Fairchild.”

“Why haven't I met you before?”

The petite girl gave him a cheeky grin. “Because I'm just a freshman, and you've been too busy running after Monica Higgins.”

Matt laughed and felt his ears turning red. Monica Higgins was another junior, a girl who everyone agreed had the best body in school.

Jennie shrugged and said, “I can't compete with that.”

With the slight movement of her shoulders, he realized he was still holding her and let go. “I don't know about that,” he said, doing a quick assessment of her body.

“Hey!”

To his amazement, he felt her hand on his chin, tipping his head up until his eyes focused on hers.

“There's more to me than my figure,” she chided.

Matt was astonished that she'd had the nerve to call him on his behavior. He was six feet tall and towered over her, yet she'd very soundly put him in his place.

That simple touch was the moment he fell in love with her. Deep and hard and forever.

He'd laughed. “Point taken. When can I see you again?”

She'd smiled back and said, “I'll see you at the ice-skating rink Friday after school.”

That had been the first of many meetings. It had taken him a while to realize that she was always with a group of people, and that they were never alone. But she was so much fun to be with, he never complained. At least, not at first. As time passed, he began maneuvering to get her alone, because he wanted more than a kiss. He wanted to hold her and touch her and put himself inside her.

All of his friends thought he was a stud, because that's what he'd let them think. His sister Libby's experience of being an unwed mother had kept him from having sex because he didn't want to get some girl pregnant. But he'd never loved a girl like he loved Jennie. And he wanted her more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life.

It took him a while to get Jennie to admit that her parents were adamant about abstinence before marriage.

He'd argued, “You're fourteen. I'm sixteen. You're talking about
years
before we're old enough to get married!”

“I agree. Which is why I'm willing to have sex with you before then.”

It was the second time since he'd met her that she'd stunned him into silence.

“I don't dare go to a doctor in town for birth control pills, because my parents are liable to find out. So you're going to have to use condoms,” she said.

He remembered listening soberly to this speech, but he was afraid that in reality, his jaw might have been hanging open in shock. She spoke so matter-of-factly, as though they were discussing how much homework they had to get done before they could meet up to go to the movies with friends.

“And we'll need a safe place to go. Somewhere with a bed. I'm not going to make love to you for the first time in the front seat of your pickup.”

By then he
was
gawking. “You have someplace in mind?” he'd managed to ask.

“Your father keeps a suite at the Wort Hotel for businessmen who come into town. Is there any way to find out when it might be free for us to use?”

“You have some date in mind for this meeting?” he asked, arms crossed defensively, still rattled by how easily she was discussing what he considered a sensitive subject.

For the first time, she seemed uncertain. She put both of her hands on his arms and leaned up on tiptoe to kiss him on the lips. Then she looked into his eyes and said, “I love you so much I almost can't bear it. I want to be with you, to be flesh of one flesh.”

It wasn't the first time she'd slipped in some phrase from the Bible when they'd been talking, but nothing she'd ever said had resonated with him as much as those words did. It brought home to him the significance of what they were about to do.

But it didn't keep him from wanting to be with her, from wanting to make love to her.

He cleared his throat, which had swollen almost shut, and said, “I'll check and see when we can get the room and let you know.”

Her voice was almost a whisper when she added, “I hope it's soon.”

Jennie was nowhere near as calm and collected once they were in the hotel room alone. Her hands were shaking, and she stuttered several times when she tried to speak. Seeing her so rattled made him feel protective.

He pulled her into his arms and whispered in her ear, “It's just me, sweetheart. We have all the time in the world. If you're not ready, we can leave and come back another time.”

She'd swallowed and said, “I don't think I'd have the courage to do this again. My parents—”

She cut herself off, but he knew how hard it was for her to go against what her parents had taught her.

“Let's just lie down and hold each other,” he said, leading her over to the bed. They climbed onto the bed and lay down with their heads on the pillows facing each other.

“Come here,” he said, pulling her into his arms.

She snuggled close, her nose against his throat, and murmured, “I didn't expect to be this nervous.”

The truth was, he was every bit as edgy as she seemed to be. He'd experimented plenty, but he was essentially as much a virgin as she was. He knew making love the first time might hurt her, and he wasn't looking forward to that. And he wanted to make it good for her, but he wasn't sure how to do that, either. He felt foolish and fumbling, but he didn't want to expose his ineptness, because the guy was supposed to know what he was doing and lead the way.

Luckily for him, Jennie was a lot smarter than he was about this sort of thing. She made it easy for him by telling him what she wanted, what felt good, and at the same time asking him what he liked.

“Would you touch me here?” she said, moving his hand lower on her body. She moved her own hand to a similar spot on his body and said, “Should I touch you here?”

Little by little, they began to explore each other's bodies more freely. Clothes came loose. And then came off. Until they were naked and he was poised over her, ready for the final step that would unite them.

“I don't want to hurt you.”

“You won't.”

“I might not do it right.”

“You will.”

He'd taken the time to arouse her, and he knew she was wet, but she was small and he could feel from the way she tensed that he was too large and it was hard for her to take him inside. He grunted when he'd penetrated enough to feel a barrier keeping him out. He would have retreated, but he felt her hands on him and her voice urging, “Don't stop. Please, Matt. I want you inside me.”

He thrust hard and soothed the small cry of pain with a kiss. When he was seated to the hilt, he met her gaze and saw the light of feminine satisfaction there. And knew it would be all right.

It wasn't all good. It was over too soon, and she bled a bit. But he did his best to comfort her, kissing the tears—of joy or pain or whatever it was she was feeling, he was never sure—from her dove-gray eyes.

They'd learned a great deal from each other over the next few months, always careful to use a condom to protect Jennie from pregnancy. He could still remember the wonder on her face the first time she'd experienced an orgasm. And the joy he'd experienced making it happen again. And again.

And then disaster had struck. Jennie was late.

“Maybe you're not pregnant,” he'd argued. “Maybe it's something else.”

She'd looked at him with serious eyes and said, “I've been as regular as clockwork from the first time I had a period.”

“But we've been careful!”

“Condoms aren't a hundred percent effective.”

“But we've been careful!” he'd repeated.

She'd walked into his arms and held him tight and whispered, “What are we going to do? I can't tell my parents. They'll be so angry and disappointed in me.” She'd met his gaze with troubled eyes and said, “They'll never let me see you again.”

“Wait a minute! They can't do that.”

“They can. And they will. I'm fourteen years old. They're my parents. They can do anything they want.”

“We'll run away,” he said.

“And go where? And live how?”

He'd always admired Jennie's practicality, but right now it was getting in the way of what he wanted. “We'll figure out a way to be together,” he told her, holding her tight in his arms, terrified of losing her. “We'll figure out something to make this work.”

But he was afraid that she was right. That the adults in their lives would make all the decisions “for their own good,” and that they would be separated from each other and from their child. He hadn't planned on being a father so soon, but he figured he could learn what he needed to know. How hard could it be to take care of a baby?

He would ask his father for a loan of enough money to cover living expenses in a home of their own until they finished high school and college. They'd need to pay a nanny while they were in school. Surely his father would bend that far. He never let himself imagine a future that didn't include Jennie and their child, as fantastical as that might seem.

But somehow he never got around to saying anything to his father. He must have known deep in his heart that the fantasy life he'd planned for himself and Jennie was just that. A fantasy. That neither his father nor her parents were going to allow the two of them to “play house.”

But he didn't want to face reality. So he kept her pregnancy a secret from his father, hoping that once the baby was born King would see how much Matt wanted to be a father to his child and help make his dream of a future with Jennie and their baby come true.

From the beginning of Jennie's pregnancy, Matt worried about her health. He didn't understand how someone so tiny could throw up so much and survive.

“It's just morning sickness. It'll pass.”

It did. She wore blousy clothes to hide the changes in her body. He loved watching their child grow inside her. He was enchanted by the look on her face the first time the baby moved—“Like a butterfly,” she said—inside her. Loved the changes in Jennie and feared them. She was getting so big! How could her parents not see the truth? He marveled at how hard her belly was, when it had once been so soft.