In the Arms of a Stranger (Entangled Ignite) (19 page)

She nodded. “Ready.”

…

JP’s hand across her shoulder made Abby want to turn toward him, bury her head against his chest, and make everything go away. But this was her new reality, the one she had to deal with.

The door opened.

The woman was middle-aged. Wade’s age. She looked like a Dorie—rounded, her short hair graying, her skin tanned. She wore blue jeans and a denim shirt over a white T-shirt. Her eyes were beautiful, a deep sky blue.

“Yes?” she said, looking up at JP.

“We’re here to see Asa Pickett.”

“Asa’s not here,” the woman replied. “I’m his wife, Dorie. Can I help you?”

Abby thought she’d prepared herself for this. Yet nothing could have prepared her for it.

Dorie was real
.

Abby took a shallow breath, her mind scrambled to find an alternative explanation. Something other than
wife
.

But there was none.

“Wade Price sent me,” JP said.

Dorie Pickett’s eyes widened, then she took a quick, deep breath. “You’re—” she blurted, then stopped herself. “I—”

“Who do you think I am, Mrs. Pickett?” JP asked.

“You’re—No. But—” Dorie Pickett stopped herself again, her hand at her chest.

“Mom!” came a male voice from behind the woman.

Dorie looked confused, turned once, then turned back to stare at JP. “I—”

“Mom,” a young man, probably in his mid-twenties, said. Dressed in Army camo, he came to stand directly behind his mother. The name on his pocket read
Pickett
. He stopped as he saw them. “Sorry,” he said, “I didn’t know someone was here.”

Dorie was still staring at them. Finally, she said. “This is our son, David.”

“Sir, ma’am,” David Pickett said.

The tone of his voice registered with Abby like a distant echo. The young man’s voice, his stance, his build, all were Wade’s. She felt light-headed, suddenly shaky. She put her hand to her mouth to keep from crying out. Her eyes stung.

“Here, honey,” Dorie said, taking her arm. “Come inside. Sit. You look too pale.”

Abby allowed herself to be led to a large leather couch. She’d never fainted, ever, and somehow didn’t this time.

“David, get me the portable phone and two glasses of ice water.”

The young man turned and left. He walked just like Wade.

It was surreal. Impossible.
Five years
. More. She’d known Wade for seven years.
Seven years
. This woman had been here all along, with their son. Wade had never said a word about them.

She’d been blind. Stupid. So easily deceived. She had to swallow down the bile that rose to her throat.

“Thanks,” Dorie said to her son, who handed her the phone. “Now, go get that water, please.”

“Sure, Mom,” he said, looking down at Abby before leaving.

His eyes, even his brows were Wade’s.
Cole’s
.

Dorie punched keys on the phone, waited a moment, then said, “Come home now.” She listened.

Abby could hear a low male voice on the other end of the line.

“He’s here,” Dorie replied, and hung up.

David Pickett came back into the living room with two glasses of water. He handed one to JP, who thanked him, and handed the other to his mother.

“Maybe a little water will help,” Dorie said, holding it up to Abby.

Nothing would help
. Well, maybe a brain transplant. Or a gullibility transplant. That might help. She took the glass, her thoughts a painful jumble of confusion. These people were real. Asa Pickett was real. And so was the young man who looked so much like Wade.

“Thank you,” she said. She tried to drink, she really did, but her throat wasn’t working right. JP stood between the front door and the big front window, scanning the outside. Abby thought she heard a horse gallop up. JP, instantly alert, placed his hand under his jacket.

The front door opened. A tall stranger wiped his feet on the mat and swept off his cowboy hat. “Dorie?” he asked.

He took one look at JP, then let his gaze travel to his wife, then to Abby, and finally to David.

“Please go put Charlie up for me, son.”

“Yes, sir,” David said, and left through the front door.

“Dave’s going to put my horse up, so we can talk. I’m Asa Pickett,” the cowboy said, turning toward JP, who still had his hand on his gun, beneath his jacket. “Don’t do it, son,” Asa Pickett said. “There’s no need.”

Dorie took Abby’s hand and squeezed, her gaze seemingly frozen on JP’s hand beneath his jacket. “Tell him there’s nothing here to be afraid of.”

As if she had any control over what JP did. But she saw him relax just the tiniest bit.

Asa moved warily to stand next to the couch.

“When did you last talk to Wade?” JP asked.

“I have to ask you what you called your older sister when she graduated,” Asa said.

JP paused, his attention concentrated on the man, before he spoke. “Brainy Janey.”

“Okay,” he said with a nod. “A year ago, a little more,” Asa replied.

“He was here?”

“No,” Dorie said hurriedly, “Wade doesn’t come here.”

“He called us,” Asa said. “He said if you came, that meant he was dead.”

“We knew it was bad, then. That he was in some sort of trouble,” Dorie added. “He wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t bad.”

JP, still physically wary, looked more curious now. “Meaning?”

“We agreed, years ago, that Wade wouldn’t have any contact with us,” Asa Pickett replied.

“But he sent money,” JP said.

“Oh, yes,” Dorie replied. “He did that. We told him we didn’t need it. But he wanted to do what was right.”

“For David,” Abby whispered, understanding.

Dorie turned to her, her gaze gentle. “You’re his wife, aren’t you?”

What was she supposed to say? She hadn’t planned on—this. She’d expected something else entirely. She looked to JP, hoping for some cue, some guidance, but his expression revealed nothing. “I—yes.”

“He never told you, did he?”

She shook her head. Never. Not a word. In all the years they’d been married, he’d never given her any hint that he had this other family. How could she not have known? How could she have thought she loved a man she so clearly didn’t know the first thing about?

Dorie took her hand again. “Don’t think badly of Wade.”

She didn’t. Not really. And that made her wonder what was wrong with her.

“We have something for you,” Asa said.

“We knew there was trouble when he called last year,” Dorie said, her expression distraught. “Wade would never risk calling and talking to David.”

“What did he say?” JP asked.

“He described you, in detail,” Asa replied. “I saw the scars on your neck. He said if you showed up, it meant he was really dead this time. And he asked for two favors. He mailed something we’re to give you.”

“What is it?” JP asked.

“We didn’t open it. It’s in one of those picture mailing envelopes. You know, the cardboard ones?” Dorie said.

“What if I didn’t show up?”

Asa shrugged. “He didn’t say. I honestly didn’t think you would, it’s been so long.”

“You said he asked for two favors. What was the other?”

“He didn’t want us to ever tell David about him,” Dorie said. “He’s to believe he’s Asa’s son, like David has always thought.”

Abby was having a hard time digesting all of this. They were talking about Wade, about things she’d never known. It was unreal.

“Wade said his work would never touch us. How did you find us?” Asa asked.

“He trusted me with your name.” JP responded with the barest of truths. “Where is the envelope Wade sent?” he asked.

Dorie stood. “I’ll go get it.”

“Mr. Pickett,” JP began.

“Asa,” came the quick correction.

JP nodded. “Did anyone from Wade’s work ever contact you?”

“Nobody knows about us. Wade said he’d make sure of that. He didn’t trust the bad stuff not to make it home. He must have trusted you a great deal to tell you about us.”

But he hadn’t told anyone, Abby knew. No one. They’d only gotten this far because she found something Wade had hidden. How much more was there to find? Could she take any more?

“Here it is,” Dorie said, coming back into the living room. She gave the mailer to JP.

“Dorie,” Asa said, “why don’t you show Abby where the bathroom is. She looks like she needs to freshen up. I’ll show JP to the office, so he can have some privacy.”

“Thanks,” JP said.

Abby clenched her jaw. She was being dismissed. Sent away. So JP could see what Wade had done. “I want to know,” she said resolutely.

That stopped everyone, even Dorie. They all stared at her.

“I have to know. I have a
right
to know.”

The silence grew. Finally, JP said, “I’ll tell you what I can.”

What I can
. National security secrets again. She wanted to argue, to insist, but she knew JP well enough now that she knew she’d gotten all she could out of him. She followed Dorie Pickett down the hall, too shocked by the existence of Wade’s son, by everything, to argue.

…

Asa closed the office door after JP, leaving him alone with Wade’s envelope in his hand.

It must have rained on it at some point, because the address had blurred. He studied the envelope. It had been stamped at the little post office close to Abby’s house, and was dated a week after he and Wade had parted ways in Jordan, the location of their last assignment. The day someone had taken another shot at him. A few days before Wade died.

So Wade had mailed this from home, not from his safe house. He’d phoned Kyle, not seen him in person. Had he even gone to Ocean Springs?

JP hoped to hell whatever Wade had left for him would give him some answers.

He opened the envelope and peered inside.

…

Abby splashed cold water on her face and tried to think past everything she’d learned. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t think at all. It was so much.
Too much
.

Would JP tell her what Wade had sent him?

After a few minutes, she knew she had to come out. Come out and face Dorie Pickett, the mother of Wade’s son. Wade’s eldest son.

Dorie and her husband were sitting together, whispering to each other on the couch in the living room. Both stood as Abby came in. Dorie, nervously rubbing her thighs, asked, “Can I get you something else?”

“No, thank you.”

“Please, sit down. I know this has been a shock for you,” the woman began. “I wish you hadn’t found out like this. I wish Wade had told you.”

So did she
. Still, would it have made any difference in the way she’d felt about him? What would she have done if he had told her? Probably exactly what she had done—married him. Lots of men his age had kids by previous marriages. No big deal. The big deal was that he’d hidden it from her. Why?

She sat down opposite the couple.

Dorie began speaking. “We were just kids. Babies. He was home on furlough, and we didn’t think of the consequences. Then he was called up. Just like that. We thought we’d get married when he got back, but a month later his mother heard from the Army. They said he was dead.”

“You don’t need to rehash this, Dorie,” Asa said.

“She was his wife. She has the right to know,” Dorie said. “Do you have children?”

“A boy. He’s four,” Abby managed.

“Good. I’m glad Wade had a son he knew. I took his eldest away from him.”

“The hell you did, Dorie! Wade was dead.” Asa sounded angry.

“I didn’t wait,” she replied without looking at him, her face riddled with guilt.

“You didn’t
know
,” her husband insisted.

“Anyway. David was a little over a year old when Wade came back. But I never knew. He heard that I’d married Asa, and he didn’t try to contact me. When Wade’s mother died five years later, he came home to bury her. And saw David. He was shocked.”

“He was pissed,” Asa corrected. “He wanted you back.”

“But I loved
you
, Asa. And we’d had two babies together by that time.”

“After getting good and drunk, Wade sobered up, came over here, and we hashed it all out,” Asa said. “He saw us with Dave. He knew it would be better if he didn’t say anything.”

Dorie continued. “So he left. He sent money. He knew we didn’t need it. Asa’s done well with the ranch.”

Money
. According to the canceled checks, he’d sent them thousands of dollars. Tens of thousands. Abby didn’t care, wouldn’t have cared. But where did he get the money?

“Wade’s family had a hard time. After his mother died, he sold the ranch, but it didn’t sell well. He was always worried about saving money,” Dorie continued. “I hated that he was spending it on Dave when we didn’t need it.”

Could that explain it? JP had said Wade had been single for a long time, that he’d had time to save.

Maybe.

“Do you have pictures of your son?” Dorie asked.

After a hesitation, Abby pulled out her wallet, opened it, and handed a photo to Dorie.

“He looks so much like Wade! His eyes, his brows.”

“David looks like him, too,” Abby said. “And like my son, Cole.”

“Wade knew the minute he saw Dave,” Dorie said, nodding.

“I’m glad he did see him,” Abby whispered. Strangely, it would have broken her heart if he had never seen his son.

“That one time, for sure. Asa thinks he came back over the years, in secret. Dave’s always been involved in sports of some kind. Asa thinks he saw him play football.”

What had it been like for Wade to watch his oldest son growing up, unable to talk to him? Unable to touch him or hug him? Not even able to acknowledge him as his son?

She wanted to hold on to Cole, hold on and protect him. But his father was dead. He’d never really know Wade. Maybe he shouldn’t find out the truth, after all. In one respect, Cole’s half brother was better off. David Pickett would never miss the man who’d fathered him.

There was so much she didn’t know about Wade. More than she’d ever imagined.

“Did you know about me?”

“No,” Dorie said kindly. “I’d hoped he’d marry someday. But we didn’t talk much. Before he called that last time, it had been over five years. But he knew exactly how David was, knew he was in the Army.”