The Secret Agent's Surprises (Harlequin American Romance) (11 page)

Priscilla’s life changed forever the moment she saw her son in the photograph. She sat in the taxi feeling almost winded. Unexpected tears poured down her face. Anger filled her—anger at Pete for ripping off the scab, anger at herself for giving her son away, anger at her parents for insisting it was for the best.

“Where to, ma’am?” the cabbie asked.

“Fort Wylie,” she replied, and gave him her parents’ address. She needed family around her now—
her
family—and maybe even some answers. She needed time. Her brain could barely register what she’d seen.

She was furious with Pete for snooping around in her past. How dare he play God, like his father?

Pain seeped into her heart. Her son. She told herself perhaps Pete had located the wrong child, yet she knew enough about Pete to know he would never make that error. Her son was a beautiful child. Any mother would be proud. She was proud, and yet she felt so utterly lost.

Unfortunately she also felt an overwhelming desire to hold him just once, tell him that not one single day in her life had gone by without her thinking of him, wondering if she’d made the right decision. Clearly she had, if his smiling face was any indication. She was still struggling to figure herself out financially—he would not have grown up in the type of house seen in the picture. Nor would he have had the two sisters he seemed quite close to.

She closed her eyes, prayed the pain would recede.

How dare Pete intrude in her life this way? And what exactly had he hoped to gain? She knew him well enough to know that he was a Morgan, and Morgans, she’d learned, didn’t do anything without hoping to gain from it.

It had something to do with the babies. Perhaps Pete labored under the misguided belief that if she knew her son was happy, she could move on with her life.

The notion might be good on paper, but it didn’t take into account the layers of guilt in her subconscious over giving up a child, and she doubted Pete could ever understand how deeply a mother’s heart suffered.

Josiah was just as bad—Pete had obviously learned from his father. She had no idea who’d thought it was a good idea to bring in all the extra female assistance, but she’d guess it was Josiah. With Mrs. Corkindale approving so much of the additional help, Priscilla could hardly protest. Yet she couldn’t help feeling pushed out, unneeded. Perhaps
less
needed
was the correct term. Definitely replaceable, like a piece of china. Josiah wanted six pieces of china, instead of just one, in case that one broke. Maybe it was a fail-safe plan, and maybe Josiah and Pete needed that kind of security in their lives.

She leaned her head back, willing herself not to think of anything more than the cold, starlit evening and the fact that she’d be home soon enough, with time to think about exactly what had happened today.

All she knew was that she wanted desperately to see her son now—and she knew she never could. She would never forgive Pete for cruelly opening up this deep wound in her heart.

“I
T’S GOOD TO SEE
you, Priscilla,” Rosalie Perkins said, hugging her daughter. “We know you’ve been very busy.”

Priscilla walked into her parents’ home. “I should have come sooner.”

Her father, Phil, shook his head. “We were too busy wrapping up paperwork to have had time to visit. We’re just glad you’re here now.”

They went into the kitchen and sat where they always sat—at the small table in the kitchen nook. Rosalie put out glasses of iced tea for them, and Priscilla thought about the many times over the years this ritual had been performed. It was comforting, and yet, she didn’t feel comforted.

“How was Union Junction?” her father asked.

“Busy,” Priscilla said carefully. “The four newborns at the Morgan ranch keep everyone very busy.”

Her mother smiled. “I hope it works out for them.”

Priscilla decided she wouldn’t mention her own part in the plan that helped in the success. Why get her parents all excited about an engagement that would never be? “So everything came out all right with the bankruptcy?”

“It did.” Phil nodded. “Everyone’s been very understanding.”

“The worst part was having the notice in the paper,” Rosalie said. “It’s so embarrassing to have your financial situation laid bare for everyone. But we’re getting ourselves back on the right track now.”

“With help from Charlie Drumwell, things have been going well,” Phil explained. “That’s one smart young man.”

Priscilla didn’t want to comment on that, but her mother said, “You never did mention how your date went.”

“It was fine,” Priscilla said.

“Such a nice man,” her mother said on a sigh. “You could do worse, Priscilla.”

“Mom, Dad,” Priscilla said suddenly, “I’ve tried to do a lot with my life since the mistake I made when I was a teenager. I haven’t dated a lot, I haven’t—”

“Priscilla,” Rosalie said, her tone distressed. “Have some more tea.”

“All I’m saying is that everyone makes mistakes.
But mine was a baby, not necessarily a mistake. Why were you so insistent that I give my son away?”

The room went silent. On the wall, the kitten clock ticked. Priscilla could hear her own heartbeat in her ears.

Her father cleared his throat. “You were very young, Priscilla. You had a lot of life ahead of you. We didn’t want you saddled with the responsibility.”

She thought about the picture of her healthy, happy son. “I feel like I’ve lost something critically important in my life.”

“I know,” Rosalie said. “We both think about it all the time, honey.”

Priscilla looked at her mother. “Do you?”

“Of course,” Rosalie said carefully. “That was our only grandchild, you know.”

Phil nodded. “But ten years ago, that was a decision we didn’t think you should have to make. It would have meant giving up your childhood, Pris.”

“So I gave up his.” Priscilla grabbed a tissue off the counter. “I know he’s happy, but—”

“How do you know that?” Rosalie asked.

“I—I just do.” Priscilla shook her head. “I just think some of our decisions have the ability to affect the rest of our lives. That one affects me.”

“Oh, dear,” Rosalie said unhappily, “of course it does. Our financial decisions will always affect us, the mistakes we made, the things we wish we’d done better. Life is full of decisions that never quite leave
us. But we did the best we could in advising you about that matter, Priscilla. It’s not something we can undo now.”

Priscilla thought about her son, happily playing with his two little sisters in front of the big house. “I know,” she said softly. “But that doesn’t make it any less painful.”

“Maybe spending so much time with those Morgan babies has upset you,” Phil said. “Kind of brings the past back a bit, don’t you think?”

“Not directly,” Priscilla murmured, and yet it had. Her father was right. She’d always agonized over her decision, but it was kept in a closet deep inside her. Now that secret was out, bringing its painful questions with it. “I felt guilty just holding the babies.”

“Oh, my,” Rosalie said, and burst into tears.

Priscilla shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

“Well,” her father said, “I don’t know what to tell you, Priscilla, except that you’re a good girl. We know everything will work out for you eventually. And we’re sorry that the bankruptcy hurt your tea shop. Hurting you was the last thing we intended.”

Rosalie wiped her eyes with a tissue. “We thought we were making the best financial decisions, ones that would help you after we’re gone.”

“Don’t say that!” Priscilla exclaimed. Instantly she thought of Josiah, who didn’t look all that strong to her, though he might have been tired from all the activity in the house. “Everything is going to be fine.
Let’s not talk about this ever again. There’s no reason to. And don’t ask me about Charlie, either,” she said on a sigh. “We really didn’t suit.”

“Because you already had a crush on that cowboy,” her mother said. “We heard all about him from Cricket.”

“Oh,” Priscilla said. “Let’s not talk about him, either.”

“All decisions are not bad ones,” her father said. “Sometimes they require a little more time for the good in them to be revealed.”

Priscilla shook her head, not about to be drawn into a discussion of Pete. Nor did she want her parents weighed down with their daughter’s private pain; they had enough of their own right now. She opted for safety, knowing it was good to return to the things they found traditional and comforting. “I’ll get the cookies out. And it’s such a cold night, does anyone feel like working a puzzle in front of the fireplace?”

“W
HERE’S
P
RISCILLA
?” Josiah demanded the next day. He watched the church ladies take over so that Josiah and Pete could take showers and rest for a bit. The babies had treated them to an active night, and Pete could honestly say he was looking forward to a good long nap.

“She went home,” Pete said.

“Any reason she deserted us?”

Pete hesitated. He wanted to talk about what had
happened, but he wasn’t sure about hearing Pop’s reaction. One thing about Josiah is that he wouldn’t pull any punches. “She didn’t exactly desert us.”

“She couldn’t have been that bothered by a little competition,” Josiah said. “I had her marked for more grit than that.”

“Not sure about that, but I can say it didn’t help. However, I’m afraid I’m the culprit here.” His father and he took seats outside on the patio, despite the chill. Josiah said he needed fresh air, and fortunately they were on the south side of the house, where the sun shone. A chimenea smoked nearby, throwing a little warmth and the scent of burning wood, which Josiah liked to huddle near. To keep his father from getting too cold, since he did like to sit out on this patio and look over his land more and more these days, Pete had installed a propane heater near their chairs, which also emanated heat. “I looked up Priscilla’s son.”

Josiah’s head reared back. “What are you talking about?”

“She had a son when she was seventeen. She had to give him up for adoption, and she never got over it. It was one of the reasons she wasn’t altogether sure of herself when it came to the babies, whom I’ve named, by the way.”

“Oh?” Josiah asked, momentarily sidetracked.

“Yes,” Pete said, happy to have his father off the painful subject of Priscilla for the moment. “Josiah John—”

“Ah, good one,” Josiah said, suddenly looking misty. “Good of you to name one after Jack.”

“You and Jack, Pop,” Pete said. “We can call him Joe. Or Jack. Doesn’t matter.”

Josiah smiled. “Can’t say I haven’t waited a long time for that, son.”

Pete nodded. He knew. He understood. They’d all been on such difficult terms for so long, no one would have thought to name a child after ornery Josiah. But so much had changed for Pete. “And then there’s Mary Angela, Michael Peter and Michelle Gisella.”

His father looked at him. “Named after your mother.”

Pete shrugged. “Seemed right. If we get to keep them, those will be their christened names.”

“Good,” Josiah said, pleased. “Although you know that Dane and Gabe will feel left out since you picked Jack’s name and not theirs.”

“They have their own namesakes, or have them on the way,” Pete explained. “I don’t think Jack ever will.”

Josiah sighed. “Don’t depress me, son. Now, back to your conundrum. I have a feeling it’s a doozy. You never were one to do things halfway.”

“This is true.” Pete reflected on his father’s words ruefully. “I thought that if Priscilla knew that the son she’d given up was happy and healthy, maybe she could forgive her teenage decision and grow to love these children like her own.”

“Uh-oh,” Josiah said. “You should have asked my
advice before you meddled, son. You’re not very good at it yet.”

“True as that may be, I located the boy. He’s a good kid. Bright, healthy, happy. Has a great home, great family. Nothing to regret there.” It still bothered Pete just a wee bit that he could have been the child’s stepfather had life turned out a little differently. “I didn’t talk to him, of course. I took a photo and I left.”

“Let me get this straight,” Josiah said. “Priscilla’s been dealing with her parents’ financial difficulties, her own financial issues and giving up her tea shop, and then coming out here to help you by pretending to be your fiancée, and then you go and spring her past on her.”

Pete looked at his father. “I believe that just about sums it up.”

“Son, you ran that girl off.”

“Don’t tell me that,” Pete said. “I’ve come to really like her a lot.”

“I know,” Josiah said. “So, Pete, what were you thinking?”

“I was thinking I could take away some of her pain,” Pete replied honestly.

“Were you? Or were you living your own past, remembering how it was when your mother left you,” Josiah said. “Were you thinking that you’d love for your mother to ride up one day and erase all the lost time in your childhood? And maybe that little boy would, too?”

Pete blinked. His father’s words arrested him. He walked through them again slowly, replaying them in his head. “You’re suggesting that I put myself in her son’s shoes?”

“With a mother who abandoned you,” Josiah said bluntly. “You never got over that, and I suspect you were assuaging your own pain rather than Priscilla’s.”

“I hope not,” Pete said. “I never meant to hurt her.”

“Yeah, but sometimes the past needs to stay in the past, son.” Josiah leaned closer to the clay chimenea, tucked his blanket around his legs. “I suspect you’re still a little angry with me, too, which you haven’t resolved.”

There might be some truth to that. Pete shrugged. “I think we’re getting along better than ever in spite of my doubts.”

“But you’ve never forgiven me for your mother leaving. You think that if I’d treated her better, paid more attention to her, she would have stayed. And that might be true,” Josiah admitted. “In your mind, I’m still the jackass no one wanted to be around. But you can’t fix this for Priscilla. If she doesn’t want to be the mother to your children, you’ll have to accept that. You can’t dig around in her past and paste it together and make it good.”