A Mother's Secret (12 page)

Vern reached out unexpectedly, and Daniel clasped the gnarled hand. It was stronger than he would have expected.

“Tell you what, son. You hurry up with that. Mable still likes to dance. I wouldn’t mind dancing at your wedding.”

Damned if he wasn’t choked up enough that all he could do was nod. And when he said goodbye a few minutes later, he added, “Thanks for telling me this, Dad.”

Funny how that one little word came out easier now than it had half an hour ago.

R
EBECCA HAD ALMOST MADE UP
her mind that the time had come to tell Malcolm that Daniel was his father, whether Daniel pushed the issue or not. The visit to his house had done it. She couldn’t go on this way. She just couldn’t.

But still, somehow, the days passed, and she hadn’t said anything. Cowardice. It wasn’t so much that she was afraid to tell Malcolm; he was young enough to accept news like that without the sense of betrayal an older child would feel. No, she put off a necessary conversation because right now she still felt as if Mal was all hers.
He
thought he was. The moment he knew who his father was, she would have lost a part of him. Time spent with him, of course—the weekends and holidays he’d be with Daniel instead of her. But also his unrelieved loyalty and love and sense of belonging. He’d belong to Daniel, too.

And there she went, being petty again.

Rebecca sat in her classroom, free to think even as she kept an eye on her students who were writing laboriously in their journals. Most concentrated fiercely. Paper rustled and pencils scratched. Jacob shuffled to the pencil sharpener for the third time in the past half hour, while Rosalie and Summer whispered.

These past few weeks, it had occurred to Rebecca that
she might have left Daniel without telling him she was pregnant not only because she believed that he wouldn’t want her and their baby, but also because part of her was unwilling to share. That part of her had
wanted
to be a single parent, free of all the complications and emotional stew sharing a child would involve, whether you were married or living separately.

No—she really
had
believed he wasn’t ready for marriage and family, at least not with her. She still believed that. But she also suspected her own motivations had been much murkier than she’d thought. She hoped she never had to admit as much to him.

“Summer,” she said, rousing herself, “please move to Joshua’s desk for the rest of the day.” Joshua had been absent all week.

“But, Ms. Ballard…!”

She raised her eyebrows.

Radiating indignation, skinny, dark-haired Summer took her pencil and journal and moved, dropping with an audible thump into the chair. Rosalie bent her head studiously and pretended
she
had nothing to do with any of this.

The bell for recess, thank goodness, rang. Rebecca made Jacob stay behind for five minutes while he sharpened all his pencils in preparation for the afternoon’s work.

“Walk,” she called after him, when he was done and bolted into the hall.

Perhaps tonight, she resolved, she would talk to Malcolm.

Of course she didn’t.

Thursday night, Daniel called. Malcolm was already long since in bed. She had graded papers earlier and was curled up at one end of the sofa, reading a new novel by one of her favorite fantasy writers.

“I realized we hadn’t made plans for this weekend,” Daniel said.

Annoyed by his assumption that she would make time for him every single weekend, she wondered what he would say if she told him she and Malcolm already had plans.

Instead—yes, more cowardice!—she said only, “He has a birthday party Sunday. We’ve already bought the present.”

“A toy bulldozer for Chace?”

Going back to her spot on the sofa, phone cradled between ear and shoulder, she was startled into a laugh. “No, the birthday girl is the preschool princess. All do her bidding. Malcolm doesn’t actually like Noelle very well, but everyone else will be at the party, and it is at the roller rink—which is a terrible idea for kids their age, and I may never forgive Noelle’s mother. But Malcolm is determined to go.”

“Why won’t you forgive Noelle’s mother?” Amusement threaded Daniel’s husky voice. “And why a terrible idea?”

“Because four- and five-year-olds can’t roller-skate. And because Jamie—Noelle’s mother—is counting on just about every parent staying at this wretched party. The rink is too crowded for her to keep an eye on the kids. Plus, the only way they can skate is to hang on to their parents for dear life. The last time I went to one of these, I had to hold two kids up, and eventually one of them tangled his feet with mine and I went down hard, on my tailbone. Which hurt for
weeks
.”

“I see.” Now he was laughing at her, she just knew he was. “So how about if I come?”

The offer made her feel as if she’d just gone down
again, so hard she’d had the wind knocked out of her. Was this going to be the first time she waved as Daniel took Malcolm away? Somehow, she managed to sound no more than inquiring. “You mean, take him for me?”

“Uh…I meant go with you.” There was an obvious pause, followed by a reluctant, “But I suppose there’s no reason I couldn’t, if you need some time to yourself.”

She was miserably conscious of relief even as anger squeezed her. Why did he keep wanting to play family?

No, wait—could it be that he was just nervous about taking Malcolm by himself? Was she just…well, a buffer for him on all these happy outings?

Maybe.

That thought was unaccountably depressing.

“No,” she heard herself say, “I was planning to go. But you might as well find out what’s in store for you.”

“Do fathers go? Or is it mostly mothers?”

“On a weekend thing like this, it’s about half and half. You won’t be out of place.”

“It wasn’t that,” he said stiffly. “I was just…curious.”

“Even when I was a kid, a fair share of fathers—” Rebecca stopped.
Oh
. His father hadn’t taken him to other kids’ birthday parties. Maybe his single, working mother hadn’t been able to or willing to, either. Or to afford the seemingly endless gifts. Knowing he’d hate it if he thought she felt pity, she said only, “Malcolm will enjoy having you there.”

“Thanks.” He was quiet for a minute. “I went to see my dad last night. I mean, Vern.”

Made wary by the change of subject, she asked, “Did you tell him you suspect he’s not your real father?”

“Yeah. We worked our way around to it. I asked him
about Mom. He talked about how beautiful she was, and how lucky he’d felt that she even looked at him. Sounds like it took him a few years to figure out that she’d used him to give me a name. But he knew she wasn’t a happy woman. He thought he could change that.”

“And he was wrong.”

“Yeah.” Daniel sounded weary. “What she did to him was contemptible.”

“Unless,” Rebecca said tentatively, “she really believed she could learn to love him.”

“I don’t know what to think.” He fell silent again, for long enough that she wished she could see his face. “Or why I care.”

Rebecca had to blink back tears. “Of course you care! For one thing, none of us wants to repeat our parents’ mistakes.”

He made a rough sound that might have been a laugh. “No. I don’t want to do that.”

“I still catch myself making excuses for my parents, even though I’ve never quit being mad at them, too. But I want them to have
meant
well. To have been acting out of love, however misguided. Because otherwise…otherwise…” Her throat closed.

“You have to admit they didn’t give a damn,” Daniel said in a monotone.

She swallowed. “I suppose.”

“I’ve never tried to delude myself.”

That was the saddest thing Rebecca had ever heard anyone say. What he meant was, he hadn’t been
able
to delude himself, considering how glaring his parents’ indifference and neglect had been.

“Did you tell him that he’d hurt you?” she demanded.

“Not in so many words.” Daniel paused. “He volunteered an apology. Vern is eighty-three now, has had heart trouble. I guess you start thinking. He said the way he abandoned me was one of his regrets.”

Her ire deflated. “Oh. I suppose that was nice of him.”

Daniel laughed, as if her grudging concession had lightened his mood. “I did think it was nice of him. I had the sense that…uh…maybe he’d value a closer relationship.”

She could picture him shifting, hunching his shoulders in that way he had when discomfited. Daniel might be pleased to learn that Vern Kane did care, at least a little, but he’d also be thrown for a loop. He wasn’t accustomed to people caring. He might have no idea how to respond.

How could she have been dumb enough to fall in love with a man who might well be incapable of any kind of reciprocity?

“Will you go see him again? Now that you know—well, are reasonably sure—he isn’t your father?”

After a moment he said, “I don’t know.” Then, “Maybe.”

She vaguely recalled that Daniel had half sisters. Or had thought he had half sisters, although of course they weren’t related to him after all. Heather and…She couldn’t remember the other one’s name.

“Does he need you?” she asked.

“Need me? No. Jen’s in Chicago now, but Patty lives nearby.”

Patty. That was it. She was the snotty older girl who had been painfully jealous when Daniel spent the occasional weekend with his father and his new family. The younger sister, Heather, had been more inclined to worship this big brother. Daniel had told Rebecca a few stories, when he had been especially relaxed. He hadn’t, so far as she could
tell, maintained any relationship at all with these half sisters. By the time he was a teenager, visits to his father’s home had stopped altogether.

She still remembered the way he had shrugged. “The visits mostly ended by the time I was…heck, nine or ten. Vern still called occasionally. He took me to a couple of ball games, showed up a few times for my games when I was in high school. And he did arrange for a summer job on one of his construction sites. But it was pretty clear I wasn’t part of his family.”

His tone had been entirely impassive. She had ached for him nonetheless.

“Basically, he wants your forgiveness,” she said now. “So he can forgive himself.”

Daniel grunted, clearly amused. “Is that so bad?”

It took her longer than it should have to concede. “Probably not.” She was shocked to find how much she wanted
someone
to suffer for Daniel’s sad childhood. Vern Kane was the only one left who could.

“You don’t believe in forgiveness?” he inquired.

Did she? Oh, she forgave friends for forgetting a luncheon engagement or her birthday, a fellow teacher for forgetting to pass on important information. But could she forgive either her mother or father, if they begged her on their deathbed?

“Yes,” she said stiffly. “Of course I do.”
Maybe
.

“Really forgiving someone, deep down…” He shrugged, his voice scratchy. “That might come hard.”

Yes. It would.
Saying
you forgive someone might not be that hard. Giving them peace. But deep down, in your heart forgiving…Examining herself, Rebecca thought,
I’ve been angry so long, I’m corroded
. Maybe the best she would be able to do, if the time ever came, was to try.

As if reading her mind, Daniel said, “What about me? Will you ever be able to forgive me for letting you down?”

If he ever said the words,
I love you
, Rebecca was stunned to discover that she could forgive him almost anything. Her parents, no. Daniel, yes.

Oh, God.

Somehow, she crafted a tone of vague surprise. “Did you let me down? I thought we just…parted ways.”

Immediately, his voice became guarded. “Is that what we did? Well, there’s no going back, is there?”

But I want to
, she thought with sharp longing.
I want to say to you, “I’m pregnant,” and have you laugh with delight and swing me in a circle and beg me to marry you. And I want…I want
…

Such small words, and ones she couldn’t imagine Daniel ever saying, not to her.

Crisply, she agreed, “No. There isn’t.”

“Sunday,” he said, once again no more than a pleasant near stranger. “Does this party include lunch?”

“No, it’s from ten to twelve.”

“Shall we go out for lunch afterward?”

Of course he’d want at least that much time with Malcolm.

“Sure.”

Rebecca was filled with turmoil as she hung up and thought,
I’m as desperately in love as ever
.

She couldn’t go on this way, pretending for Malcolm’s sake that it was great fun going on outings with her buddy Daniel. She had to tell Malcolm the truth.

R
EBECCA WAITED UNTIL
story time the next evening. She and Malcolm settled on the sofa, Mal having chosen several library books for her to read to him.

She took the first book from him, but left it closed on her lap. “I want to talk to you first.”

Already in his pajamas, he swiveled on his butt so he could look up at her. “I can still go to Noelle’s party, right? I bet I can really skate this time. ’Cept I don’t want you to let go of my hand until I’m
sure
.”

Rebecca laughed. “Yes, you can still go to Noelle’s party, and no, I won’t let go of your hand until you’re sure. I promise.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

Such trust. Most of the time, she took it for granted, but occasionally, like tonight, she felt a clutch of awe and pleasure mixed with the fear that someday she’d let go too soon and fail him.

“This is about Daniel.”

“He can’t come?” Malcolm sounded disappointed. “I like it when he does stuff with us. I thought…it might be kinda like…Um. You know.”

She knew. Kinda like having a dad.

“No, Daniel is still planning to come, too. The thing is, there’s something about him I haven’t told you.” She took a deep breath. “Daniel
is
your father.”

Her son stared at her, his brown eyes so like hers even as the face tilted up to her looked shockingly like Daniel’s. “He’s…my dad? I mean,
really
my dad?”

“How can you be a dad but not really?”

“You know. Like Kelsey’s dad. He’s a…a…”

“Stepfather,” Rebecca supplied.