Peekaboo Baby. Delores Fossen
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exactly his take on things.
A scare maybe for her because, as a parent, she’d no doubt wonder if the hypothetical cloning had done anything to harm her son. However, for Ryan the whole ordeal hadn’t been as much of a scare as it had been a huge setback to his healing. For one moment, one too-short moment, he’d considered the possibility that Adam was alive, that he’d been given a second chance.
A chance that was snatched away once reality set in.
Because there were no second chances.
Now, what was left was the aftermath, and Ryan knew that the aftermath was the hard part. In fact, the only thing harder was the question he’d been aching to ask her.
“Does Adam resemble your son?”
He waited.
Held his breath.
And would have prayed if he’d known what to pray for.
It obviously wasn’t an easy question for Delaney. She sat there in silence. The only sound was the rhythmic slap of the wipers, the rain and their uneven breathing.
“It’s hard to say,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “In that picture, your son was so tiny. Mine was born full-term. Eight pounds, seven ounces. He had chubby cheeks. Still does,” Delaney added in a whisper.
Full-term. One of the joys of parenthood that Ryan had never gotten to experience. But then, Adam’s life had been so short, that neither he nor his son had experienced a lot of things.
While he gave her answer some thought, he tested the high beams of his headlights, but they merely bounced back the reflection of the rain. Ryan switched back to low beams and fastened his attention on the dark, slick road that would take them to the highway.
“You don’t happen to have a picture of your son, do you?” Ryan asked.
“No.” Her response was as fast as the bolt of lightning that slashed on the horizon in front of them.
She was lying.
And she was really bad at it.
Her voice actually cracked. There was, no doubt, a picture or two tucked inside her wallet. What new mother wouldn’t carry around photos of her baby? Still, Ryan had no intentions of calling her on that lie. In a way, he welcomed it. Because if he saw a photo of her son, he’d scrutinize it and pick it apart until he forced himself to see something. Anything. That would only cause the hope to grow.
There was no room left in his heart for hope.
“I don’t know if my father ever contacts you,” she said. Out of the corner of his eye, Ryan watched her twist the trio of rings she had on her thumb, pinkie and middle fingers of her right hand. The one on her middle finger had a tiny jeweled butterfly charm dangling from it. “But if he does, I’d prefer that you not mention anything about this visit.”
“Your father only contacts me through his lawyers. And the last thing I’d discuss with him or anyone else is what happened tonight.”
“Thank you.” She paused and did more of that nervous fidgeting with her fingers. Delicate fingers. For that matter, a delicate face. Not drop-dead gorgeous, but attractive in a woman-next-door sort of way. Unfortunately, he found that appealing.
Even though that hadn’t been the case until tonight.
“But you will check up on Dr. Keyes and the embryologist, won’t you?” Delaney asked.
“Absolutely. If there’s some kind of scam, I’ll find out.”
She blew out a long breath, probably not from relief. By now, she was probably kicking herself for even coming to the estate.
He understood how she felt.
There was another flash of lightning, and as the white-hot spear sliced through the darkness, Ryan thought he saw something on the road just ahead. A shadow, maybe. Maybe one of the horses had gotten out of the pasture. He automatically leaned in closer to the windshield, trying to look through the rain and the murky night to determine what it was.
But it was too late.
The dark-colored car came out of the thick curtain of rain. Not on the other side of the road, either.
Right at them.
Ryan heard Delaney scream. A sound of terror that he was sure he would remember for the rest of his life.
If he had a rest of his life, that is.
As he swerved to the right, it occurred to him that this could turn out to be a fatal accident. He knew what was out there.
A deep, six-foot-wide irrigation ditch.
Almost certainly overflowing with rainwater.
A second later, Ryan took out the almost certainly. Even though he tried to keep the car on the road, he wasn’t successful. They hit the narrow shoulder of soggy, slick gravel, skidded and then plunged right into the watery ditch.
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