Rebecca's Little Secret. Judy Christenberry
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over to take her hand, but she wouldn’t let him touch her.
“I’m sorry, Becca. I wish I’d known and we wouldn’t have lost our baby.”
She stared at him. “You think I had an abortion? You think I killed our baby?” Her voice rose in horror.
“I understand. You were all alone. You didn’t have many options.”
“I came to tell you that my son will be four on October 2. I don’t know if you have any interest in him at all, only learning about him now. That’s fine. I thought I owed it to you to tell you that you are a father.” She got up out of her chair and headed for the door.
He grabbed her arm, stopping her. “I have a son? You’re telling me you had the baby and all this time you neglected to tell me that I had a son?”
Chapter Two
“Yes,” Rebecca said succinctly, a mixture of guilt and irritation affecting her.
“And you think I might not care? Do you think I’ve changed that much, Rebecca? Do you not know me at all? Do you think I don’t miss having family, someone of my own blood? Yes, I want a part in my son’s life.
“In fact, I think you owe me the next four years, since you managed to take the first four years without me.”
“Have you finished ranting?” she asked coldly.
“No, I haven’t!” he snapped back. “I have four years’ worth of ranting stored up. How dare you not tell me that I had a child! You know me better than to think I wouldn’t care!”
“I knew you five years ago, Jeff. I don’t know you at all now. Your fiancée may not be prepared to be a stepmom, even if you want to be involved in Joey’s life. You need to take that into consideration.”
“Hell! I haven’t had time to consider anything. And that’s your fault!” He was almost shouting now.
The office door opened. “Jeff, is everything all right?” Harriet asked hesitantly.
“No, Harriet, it’s not. Come in here.”
“Jeff, I don’t think—” Rebecca began.
“Do you think I’m going to keep my son a secret, Rebecca? That I’m ashamed of him? Well, I’m not. And I’m going to be involved in his life, so Harriet might as well know.”
“And do you need to yell when you tell Harriet?” Rebecca asked, her features cold.
“I can yell if I want to. It’s my office!”
“Jeff, I’ve never seen you like this. What’s wrong?” Harriet demanded, giving him a motherly look.
“Rebecca gave birth to my son nearly four years ago and she’s just getting around to telling me.”
Harriet looked shocked.
Rebecca wanted to walk out of the office and never see either of them again. Jeff wasn’t even trying to understand. Okay, he had a right to be angry, but he was throwing a temper tantrum in Rebecca’s opinion.
“And she gave him up for adoption?” Harriet asked, obviously following her own line of thought.
“No, she didn’t do that.”
Harriet turned to Rebecca. “You kept your baby and raised him by yourself? That must’ve been hard.”
Unwanted tears filled Rebecca’s eyes at Harriet’s sympathy. She quickly looked down so no one would see such weakness. “Yes, it was, Harriet. Thank you for saying that.”
“Is the boy here in Dallas with you now? Vivian didn’t mention him to me. Does he look like Jeff?” Harriet moved closer to Rebecca.
“I’m not sure. Do you want to see a picture of him?” Rebecca only made the offer to Harriet, but when she opened her billfold to show Harriet, Jeff came to look, too.
“Look, Jeff. He looks just like you. What a fine boy!” Harriet turned to Rebecca. “You’ve done a good job raising him.”
“I hope so. I’ve tried.”
Jeff turned his back to both women and rubbed his neck. Then he turned around. “Becca, I owe you an apology for my reaction. I’m still angry that I’ve been robbed of the first four years of my son’s life, but I’m grateful to you for giving him life and for taking good care of him.”
“And I apologize for not contacting you. But you hadn’t called and I thought you’d move on to a—a better life. I convinced myself you wouldn’t be interested. I developed a mentality of me and Joey against the world.”
“His name is Joey?” Jeff asked urgently.
She nodded.
“My dad’s name was Joe.”
“I know.”
“You named him after my dad?” Jeff asked, his eyes filling with tears.
“His full name is Joseph Lee Barlow.”
Jeff had been named Jefferson Lee by his father. Rebecca wanted Joey to have some part of his father in his name. Jeff turned away again. After he composed himself, he said, “I want to see him.”
Harriet said, “You don’t have anything on your schedule except for Mrs. Yancy wanting to change her will again. I can reschedule her.”
“Thanks, Harriet. Ready, Rebecca?”
Rebecca felt like she’d lost track of what was happening. “Ready for what?”
“I want to see Joey. Now. Will you introduce me to my son?”
“Yes, but—but I haven’t told him. I haven’t prepared him—”
“Good. Let’s go.”
“IF YOU’LL WAIT HERE,” Rebecca said, having led Jeff to the library, “I’ll go find Joey.”
“You don’t know exactly where he is?”
“No. Betty will know.” She left him alone and headed for the kitchen. “Betty, where’s Joey?”
“What are you doing home now? Are you sick?” the housekeeper asked, moving toward her to touch her forehead.
“No, I’m not sick. I’ve brought Joey’s daddy home to meet him.”
Betty’s eyes widened, but she didn’t ask any questions. “Joey is helping Peter wash Miz Vivian’s car.”
“Thank you.”
“Peter said he wouldn’t let him get wet,” Betty called after her as Rebecca headed for the driveway, where Peter, Betty’s husband, was washing a car.
“Mommy!” Joey squealed in excitement. “I’m helping Peter!”
“I can see that, but I need you to come inside and meet someone.”
Her son pouted and protested that Peter needed him, but Peter assured him there would be other car washes he could help with.
A disgruntled Joey followed his mother into the house. Once they were inside, Rebecca stopped. “Did you get wet?”
“Not much,” Joey said, looking at his mother from under his lashes.
“I think we’d better go change. Joey,” she said in what she hoped was a casual voice, “do you remember asking about your daddy?”
That question got Joey’s attention. “Yeah. Why?”
“Because he’s here. He didn’t know about you until today, and he’s come at once to meet you.”
“My real daddy?” the little boy asked skeptically.
“Of course your real daddy. I wouldn’t