Their Secret Son. Judy Duarte
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parking the car, she spotted him sitting at a table outside, wearing faded jeans and a black T-shirt. He’d dressed casually, too. Thank goodness.
Yet he was still too darn attractive for his own good.
Those amber-colored eyes watched every step she made, until she reached the table where he waited, feet stretched out before him in that sexy stance he’d probably never shake.
He stood, while she took a seat.
“Thanks for coming out here to meet me,” he said.
She merely nodded.
A matronly waitress handed them menus, then asked if she could get them a drink.
Kristin thought an iced tea or soda might be best, but chose white wine for its calming effect. Joe ordered a beer.
“It’s pretty here,” she said, trying to avoid the topic they’d both come to discuss.
“I thought you’d like it.”
Rather than look at the sandy-haired man who studied her intently, she glanced at the setting sun, which had painted a colorful sunset. The kind made for artists. And lovers.
A summer breeze stirred the salty ocean air, and seagulls cried and frolicked on the shore. An aura of romance settled upon the table, as did a gentle yet heavy silence.
Kristin had expected Joe to throw his question out, like a fisherman casting his nets upon the sea. But he kept both his question and his thoughts to himself. For that, she was glad.
It wasn’t until after the waitress delivered their drinks that Joe finally spoke, finally began to lay his thoughts on the line. “I realize a lot has happened in the past eight years.”
More than he’d previously suspected, that was for sure, but she let him speak. Let him sort through his thoughts and open his case.
“I don’t have any right to demand anything from you,” he said, “but if Bobby is my son, I deserve to know.”
He was right, but before she could gather her courage, try to explain, the waitress returned to take their order.
They both asked for the fish tacos, which were the house specialty. Kristin hoped the chatty waitress would remain, pull up a seat and join them. Anything to prolong the moment of truth.
When the woman took their orders back to the kitchen, Joe continued. “You left town right after our breakup. You weren’t scheduled to go until August.”
That was true. But how could Kristin have stayed in town, heartbroken and pregnant with Joe’s baby? She'd had to leave before the secret was out. She’d loved Joe with all of her heart and soul. Breaking up with him had nearly torn her apart, and she wasn’t about to let her dad know she was hurting, that she’d been jilted. God only knew how he would have reacted.
She’d told Joe her father wasn’t a violent man, and he wasn’t. His battles were usually fought at a conference table or, when necessary, in court.
But back then, if faced with a pregnant teenage daughter, he might have stormed after Joe, pressed charges of some kind. Made Joe’s life miserable. So, in a way, leaving had been a means of protecting both of the men she loved.
“My mother’s sister lives back east,” Kristin said. “So when Aunt Mary invited me to spend some time with her before I started school, I jumped at the chance. Getting out of town seemed like a good idea. Believe it or not, I cared about you. And when you told me you didn’t love me, I was crushed.”
Again, Kristin relished being able to speak the truth. She hadn’t told anyone about Joe, about their relationship, about her heartbreak. And for once, it felt therapeutic to let the words out. Liberating.
“Did you leave town pregnant? With my baby?” His eyes drilled into her, his words hammered on her heart.
“I’ve never discussed Bobby’s father with anyone,” Kristin said, “and I won’t do so now, unless I can get you to promise me something.”
“It’s a simple question, Kristin. Just give me a yes or a no.”
Answering no would be so simple. So easy. But she wasn’t about to lie about Bobby any more than she had to. But neither was she willing to jeopardize her father’s health.
“Things aren’t simple, Joe. I’ve kept secrets from my dad, secrets that will anger him when he finds out. And I’m not ready to confess yet.” She took a sip of wine, enjoyed the cool taste as it slid down her throat. Then she studied the fireman across from her, the man who’d once turned her inside out and promised to do so again, if she let him get too close.
Thank goodness she knew better than to allow that to happen. She needed a man who could commit for the long haul.
“They say confession is good for the soul,” Joe said.
She nodded. “I’m sure you’re right. But my dad has serious health problems. He needs bypass surgery, but other complications—his weight, sugar diabetes, the early stages of emphysema—have the doctors debating whether he can handle the surgery. I want to keep his life stress-free until the cardiologist and other specialists can determine a treatment.”
Joe’s jaw tensed, and she feared he was digging in his heels for a battle of attrition. Was he unwilling to understand, to care about her dilemma, her personal stake in all of this?
“I’m not into secrets,” he said.
She knew that. That’s why she’d never told Joe about having to sneak out to meet him. “I’ll tell my dad the truth, but I don’t want him finding out until I think his health can handle it.”
“So what are you asking me? Not to tell your father?”
“I’m asking that you honor my secret and my privacy. If I share that information with you, I want you to promise not to tell anyone until I say it’s okay.”
Before Joe could speak, the waitress brought their food. The silence was almost overpowering, as Kristin awaited Joe’s decision.
She studied her plate and poked at her food. But it wasn’t just nervousness and a guilty conscience that made her stomach all atwitter. It was the sandy-haired man across the table, the man she’d never been able to shake from her blood. Or her heart.
Time heals, the old adage said. But did it? Why did her old lover continue to stir up feelings and desires she’d buried years ago?
A wave of guilt splashed over her, as she thought about Dylan, her fiancé. He was a good man. Solid. Dependable. Willing to make a commitment. Yet, if truth be told, he didn’t stir the same fire that Joe did.
But there was more to life than hot sex. And quite frankly, a warm, dependable soul who would stick by a woman through good times and bad would prove to be invaluable in the years to come.
“Okay, Kristin. I promise to keep your secret.” His gaze cornered her, demanded to hear the words. “Am I Bobby’s father?”
The tears slipped down her cheeks, revealing the words her mouth couldn’t seem to form. She nodded her yes.
Joe had suspected Bobby was his son. Kristin’s affirmation only validated what he already sensed. He could tell by looking, by some kind of built-in parental instinct, maybe.
A part of him wanted to lash out and be angry that she’d kept their child a secret from him. But guilt came flying back in his court. After all, he’d been the one to end things that day at the ball field. And he’d made it clear he didn’t want to see her again. He couldn’t blame her for staying away.
And as long as he was placing blame, he’d throw some out at their fathers—hers for being so obstinate about wanting what was best for his daughter and his for being a low-life jerk.
But that didn’t change the current fact.
Joe Davenport had a son. A boy who was a lot like