His Surprise Son (7 page)

Sitting in the dark, on the tiny porch of a trailer that rested on crunchy brown grass and gravel, had been Izzy’s mother. As they’d pulled up, Felicia, with a beer can in hand, had stumbled down the steps and into the beam of Nate’s headlights. A barely there nightgown had revealed more of her too-thin body than Nate had ever needed to see. In a haze of cigarette smoke so acrid it smelled as if she’d gone through the entire pack that night, she’d drunkenly dismissed her daughter and started flirting with Nate before he’d cut the engine. Izzy had been mortified. Nate had helped her get Felicia into the house and intended to stay to make sure Izzy would be okay, but she had begged him to leave so she could settle Felicia down and pour her into bed.

Nate knew that if he lived to a hundred, he would never forget the expression of pure shame on Izzy’s face. She hadn’t wanted to see him again after that, either, but he hadn’t listened. Knowing where she came from had made him admire her all the more. Nate’s parents had given him everything, including a generous dose of self-esteem. How did a girl with Izzy’s background become a diligent student and reliable worker before the age of seventeen? How did she overcome her natural guardedness to look at someone with an innocence and a trust that was breathtaking?

Before he could say anything further, Kimmy arrived with a huge goblet of vanilla bean ice cream and two smaller bowls, one filled with hot fudge and the other with pillows of whipped cream. She set the dessert plus the milk for Nate’s coffee in the middle of the table, then held up a handful of spoons. “So do you want one spoon for each bowl, or just one spoon for each of you?”

“One spoon for each of us.” When the girl left, Nate looked across the table. “Tell me the truth—do you still love chocolate and whipped cream together?”

Izzy’s breath was coming in rapid puffs; her cheeks were still pink as a cherry on top of a sundae. “Izzy, are you all right?” he asked.

“Everyone...” Her voice sounded strained. “Everyone likes chocolate and whipped cream.”

“Not as much as you.”

He held out a spoon, and after a brief hesitation, she took it, though she didn’t dip into the dessert.

He used to think Izzy was as soft and sweet as the whipped cream that used to make her hum with pleasure when she ate it. But, inside, the vulnerability that had once defined her had grown teeth. He’d noticed the change almost instantly. Only now, sitting in the booth opposite him, did she seem vulnerable, almost fragile, again. The urge to touch her fell on him like a ton of bricks.

Before he could make a move, she set the spoon on the table with a clatter and pushed out of the booth. “I need to use the restroom.”

He began to rise, too. “Izzy, is there something—”

“You stay.” She held out a hand. “I’ll be... I’ll be back.”

Grabbing her purse, she sped toward the ladies’ room.

Nate heaved a giant sigh and sat. He looked at the dishes of ice cream and whipped cream and realized they were going to melt right where they sat. He and Izzy were not going to slide back into easy companionship. The comfort and rightness he’d felt that summer were not going to be recaptured. Maybe that feeling had not been anything more than youthfulness.

Pouring milk into his coffee, Nate stared grimly at the spreading clouds and muttered to himself. “That went well.”

Chapter Seven

F
ifteen splashes of cold water cooled Izzy’s face, but not her brain, which felt as if it was on fire. Looking into the scratched mirror above the sink, she used one of the restroom’s rough paper towels to wipe at the mascara running beneath her eyes.

In all the most complicated moments of her life, she’d taken one step at a time, just the next single, obvious step. But no step seemed obvious now, and she couldn’t calm down long enough to think.

Nate had planned to come home. To her. To the baby.

Don’t get carried away. He didn’t say that...exactly. He just said he was coming home.

That was right. That could have meant coming home to help her through the adoption process and then leaving again.

Or it
could
have meant he’d been coming home to be a family with her and the baby. It
could
have meant he’d changed his mind.

Listen to you! He didn’t say “love.” He didn’t say he was coming home to get married, raise a family and build a picket fence.

Maybe she should ask?

Stop!

Izzy looked in the mirror. Did she look crazy? She felt crazy. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out her cell, thinking she would call Holliday, but she got no further than staring at the face of the phone. Holliday wouldn’t have the answers to her problems—the answer was in the mirror.

Raising her face to the wood-framed glass above the sink, Izzy breathed deeply to calm her racing mind.

I loved him. I loved him so damn much.

He was the first good and decent person she had ever cared about who’d cared about her, too. When the dream of being with him forever had died, the part of her that was willing to allow another person to break her heart had died, too. Now that hard, protective shell began to crack.

The important thing was Eli. She had to push aside her feelings, to get back out to the table where Nate sat, and become a detective. Would he welcome the news that he had a son? Was there anyone in his life unlikely to treat Eli with love and acceptance? How would his parents react?

Consciously, she steeled her nerves, made her muscles move. She was going to go back out there and be strong for her son. Just like before, she would get behind the wheel and start driving. She would not allow herself to fall apart until...well, she simply wouldn’t fall apart.

Izzy did not walk, she
marched
back to the dining room, spine straight, shoulders squared, ready to set aside emotion in favor of intellect, discernment, common damn sense—

Oh, crikey.

Her feet faltered. Knees turned to jelly—warm, sloppy, melting to liquid jelly.

Nate was looking right at her, waiting for her, with a charming half grin pushing his lips.

When she reached the table, he stood. “No windows in the bathroom?”

“What?”

“When you left, the look on your face suggested you weren’t coming back. I thought you might be planning to sneak through a window or out the back door.”

“No.” She slid into the booth and met his blue eyes. Those winking midnight eyes. “I don’t run away.”
Anymore.

“Good to know. Have some dessert.” Dipping the spoon into the chocolate sauce, he coated the bowl of the utensil, front and back, allowing the excess to drip back into the cup. Then he scooped a king-size pillow of whipped cream.

That’s exactly how I used to do it.

Handing her the spoon, he sat back. Déjà vu smacked her upside the head, and nerves fluttered in her belly. Her fingers felt so shaky and clammy, she nearly dropped the spoon. “It’s not polite to stare.”

His smile deepened. “Never used to bother you.”

Oh, it had bothered her, all right—hot and bothered her. He used to watch her eat the first bite. Every time they ordered a hot-fudge sundae at Hooligan’s, he’d leaned back in the booth, his eyes at half-mast, a smile playing about the corners of his mouth, and she would blush—all over—as she tasted her concoction, exquisitely aware of him.

If she tried to eat now, she’d choke.
How high can a person’s blood pressure rise anyway, before she has a stroke?

When Izzy’s phone chimed inside her purse, she grabbed it, letting her spoon clatter onto the saucer that held the cup of whipped cream. Holliday’s face appeared on her cell phone screen.

Thank you.
“Excuse me,” she mumbled. “Hello!”

“Hi. Just wanted to see how you’re doing. You looked so vulnerable when Derek and I left.” Holliday’s voice was gentle with concern.

“Thanks. Wow. I completely forgot about the July Fourth band shell committee meeting.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Are you sure you need me tonight?”

“Where are you?”

“I’m at Hooligan’s with an old friend from high school.”

“You’re with Nate?” Holly’s voice rose.

“That’s right.”

“Holy kamoly. And you want to leave?”

“Right, right. Well, I suppose I can still make it if you absolutely have to have details about the food booth tonight.”

“Oh, yes. I
must
have details tonight,” Holliday confirmed. “Not about the food, though.”

“Obviously. Okay, I’ll leave here in a few minutes.”

“Call me when you get home.”

“Will do. Bye.” Izzy ended the call and arranged her features in what she hoped was an apologetic grimace. “Sorry. I’ve got to go. Committee meeting. I completely forgot.” Oh, man. Her relationship with Nate was turning her into the town Pinocchio.

Nate’s head tilted speculatively, his smile gone. “No problem.”

His lips barely moved, and guilt stabbed her. She needed to see him again, to ask important questions before she decided if, when and how to tell him about Eli. But first she needed to regroup.
Right. I am not running away. I am regrouping.

“Well, thanks,” she said, already sliding across the booth. Talking to Holliday would help. Holliday, after all, had a
lot
more experience with men, even if she’d never been in exactly Izzy’s situation. “Thanks for dessert and...everything.”

Nate gave her a brief nod, that was all, but he rose politely. After an awkward moment—Handshake? Hug?—Izzy stupidly patted his arm and started walking. She felt his eyes on her back until Hooligan’s heavy oak door closed behind her.

She didn’t wait to get home to phone Holliday. Switching to her headset, she made the call and pointed her car toward home. Holly answered instantly.

“Nate was coming back. Before his parents told him I’d miscarried, he’d planned to come home from college.” The words spilled out like the tears suddenly running down Izzy’s cheeks. Her friend inhaled sharply. “And that’s not all. He bought me ice cream tonight, and I got déjà vu, and I don’t think—” She gulped. “I don’t know if I ever really stopped l-l-lov—” The tears began to pour in earnest.

“It’s okay,” Holliday soothed quietly as Izzy became unable to speak. “I get it. I get it.”

* * *

When Izzy left Hooligan’s, it had not occurred to Nate that they would be together the next afternoon, watching a placid stretch of Long River, tracking the progress of kayakers and tourists on bikes as they navigated the trail along the water.

“I was surprised when you phoned,” Nate said, trying not to stare at Izzy, who had donned pale blue shorts, a deeper blue tank top and a sheer, patterned overshirt for this, their second deliberate get-together. She looked utterly casual and sexy as hell. Her hair was loose, falling below her shoulders in the straight, silky curtain he remembered. “When you left the way you did last night, I wondered if I would see you again at all.”

“Sorry.” She glanced at him, seeming shy and...something else. “I was caught off guard last night,” she admitted. “Especially when you said you’d decided to come back home. It was a surprise.”

He nodded. “It was frustrating not to know where you went or how to get in touch with you. I’m not blaming,” he hastened to add. “Just saying.”

Izzy began to fidget, ducking her head and fingering the ends of her silky hair. She’d always been a fidgeter.

In flat sandals with multicolored straps, she looked seventeen again. “You haven’t changed.”

She snorted. “I’ve changed a lot. Anyway, that’s not really a compliment unless a woman is over thirty-five. Before then, we want to change, and we want it to show.”

“Interesting. I’ll try to remember that.” A breeze swept the warmth of the sun off their faces as they walked. “You do look the same, though. Except for your eyes. They were always intense, but back then they were unsophisticated, too—in a good way.”

Today, the giant hazel eyes he’d always loved were hidden by sunglasses as her head snapped to him. “Seriously? You think you can tell a woman she’s unsophisticated in a
good
way?”

“Yes, I do. You were innocent. Trusting. And with everything you’d been through...” Nate looked at her, stating the truth. “I was impressed by that.”

The lower part of her face was a mask of neutrality.

“How are your parents, Nate?” she asked, changing the subject.

“I don’t know if you remember that my parents had me when they were older—in their forties. By the time I was in high school, Dad had diabetes and high blood pressure. He had a heart attack in the middle of my freshman year at UI Chicago. He never completely recovered and needed a lot of help. My mom was really protective of him, but it was more than she could handle, particularly since they lived pretty far from town. I didn’t think she could take care of him on her own and work, too, so I convinced them to move out. We muddled through together until I began my career and could contribute more financially.”

“How is your dad now?”

“He passed a couple of years ago.”

“I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

“Why would you?” Putting his hands in his pockets, he mused, “Dad loved Illinois, said it felt like home. I’m glad of that.”

Izzy nodded but seemed distracted. They walked in silence for a time, listening to the sound of oars lapping the water and a family’s laughter.

“And your mother?” she asked finally. “Is she well?”

“Pretty much, yeah. After Dad died, she moved to a senior cooperative housing project. Keeps busy volunteering now, but I see her aging.” His lips quirked. “She laments the fact that I haven’t had kids.”

His offhand comment seemed to snap Izzy to full attention. “Is that so.”

“In fact, she’s the one who convinced me to take the job that’s brought me back to Thunder Ridge.”

Izzy stopped walking. “What do you mean?”

He looked at the girl he’d never been able to forget, soaked in the furrow of her brow and the way wisps of her hair were carried by the breeze. “Sometimes you have to take a big step back in order to move forward,” he commented quietly. “That’s what she told me. She said she had a sixth sense that I needed to ‘go home.’ I thought it was strange, because she’s not usually philosophical, and in all the years we’d been away, she’d never once referred to Thunder Ridge as home.” He hoped Izzy believed him when he said, “I’m glad she pushed me to take the job. Glad I’m here again.” He refrained from adding
because of you
, but that was the truth. What he knew about her life today wouldn’t fit inside a thimble, but something inside him was hoping there was room for him.

Lowering her head, Izzy moved to the railing that lined their path and stared out at the water. “Did either of your parents ever come back to Thunder Ridge? For a visit, or...anything?”

Joining her, resting his elbows on the top wooden rail, he shook his head. “Uh-uh. When we were here, we lived on the farm Dad managed on top of his job at the lodge. The housing was free, and some of the furniture belonged to the landlord. There wasn’t much to take with them, and my parents were both east coasters to begin with. No family to come back to in Oregon.”

“I remember the farm,” she said. “In fact, I remember that your father took the job there, because with no rent or mortgage your parents were able to put more money toward your college fund.”

“Which they’d started the day I built an apartment building out of blocks in kindergarten.” His lips twisted wryly.

“And you cried, because the teacher wouldn’t let you glue it together so that it wouldn’t fall down in the event of an earthquake or some other natural disaster in the classroom.”

Nate slid his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose. “I told you that? Doesn’t seem like a great date topic.”

“I probably would have been impressed, but no, you didn’t mention it. Your parents told me.” Her attention shifted to the river again, where a young girl was learning to paddleboard. “I think they were reminding me that your future was planned—and invested in—a long time before you and I met. So it wasn’t fair to expect you to drop all that when I got ‘in trouble.’”

The beautiful day grew shadows. Anecdotes about his childhood interests and his parents’ single-minded commitment suddenly seemed indulgent.

Reaching for her arm, he turned her to face him. “You didn’t get pregnant alone.” He still remembered when she’d told him that. “You were right the day you said that. You shouldn’t have been the only one whose plans changed. I should have stayed with you to face high school, work, the adoption lawyer, all of it. My parents should have expected that of me. I would, if I had a kid in the same situation. I understand what they were thinking at the time, what they were afraid of, but they were wrong.”

She looked at him, her deeper thoughts still hidden by the dark glasses. Izzy’s lips formed a perfect bow, but they looked tense.

With calls of “On your left!” a group of cyclists clattered over the wooden footbridge on which they stood. Butterflies swooped and floated in the wildflowers that lined the path. Izzy pulled away from him and started walking again. A couple with a dog crossed in front of them, and Nate dodged around, catching up with Izzy at an overlook, where a few people stood with fishing poles.

“You were seven when you read
Famous Buildings of Frank Lloyd Wright
,” she said without looking at him. “At eight, you requested
The Future Architect’s Handbook
for Christmas. You loved sports, but you never let your grades fall because of them, and you were one of the few teens who truly seemed to enjoy giving volunteer hours to the community.”