Triplets Found: The Virgin's Makeover / Take a Chance on Me / And Then There Were Three. Judy Duarte
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shrugged. His childhood had been pretty crappy, but not because he didn’t have siblings. “I had a lot of cousins to play with.”
“Tell me about your family,” she said, settling into the chitchat.
Sullivan rarely talked about himself. Nor about personal matters. But maybe because he’d accidentally prodded the adoption revelation out of her, he felt as though turnaround was fair play.
“My folks both loved me, I guess. But their relationship was stormy, and their marriage ended in divorce before I hit middle school.”
“That’s too bad.”
It was. From an early age, Sullivan had dreamed of belonging to a stable family. Maybe that’s why he’d married so early. He’d been ready for kids, picket fences and family vacations. But his wife had refused to consider having his baby, then had left him for another man.
Her leaving had not only dashed his unrealistic dreams and damaged his heart, but it had been a real eye-opening experience. She’d taught him a simple lesson. Sullivan wasn’t, and maybe never had been, destined for family life.
“It was no big deal,” he lied. “Some people shouldn’t ever get married.”
“What kind of people?”
Her eyes held a naïveté that surprised him, but he smiled and filled in the blanks as generically as he could. “The kind of people who make promises they don’t keep.”
His parents’ marital nightmare had been brutal for a kid to endure. And his own divorce—six years ago—had been pretty tough.
But hey. He’d bounced back quickly.
His first effort to rebound was by having a few relationships, mostly with shallow socialites who would never tempt him to put his heart on the line again. And it had helped. A lot.
“Funny thing about my folks,” he said, wanting to focus his thoughts on his parents’ divorce and not his own. “My father’s family had money and status. And they could trace their lineage back to the Mayflower. But that never seemed to be good enough for my mom.”
“Why not?”
He would have shrugged off her question, tried to avoid getting into a conversation that was too deep, one that reminded him of his own failed marriage and was too damn revealing. But for some reason, he cut to the chase. “Some women want more than some men can provide.”
She furrowed her brow, but didn’t respond. And he wondered whether she had any idea what he was talking about.
Probably not. But that was as far as it would go.
It was bad enough that Sullivan had to relive history in his mind. He didn’t need to open himself up to memories best left forgotten.
Lissa wasn’t sure what Sullivan meant. And maybe she should ask. But the fact was, they had nothing in common. Nothing on which to build any kind of relationship.
She was adopted and didn’t know her biological parents, and he had a lineage tracing back to the Mayflower.
He was outgoing and worldly—or so it seemed. And she was as plain and boring as a dust mop.
Still, she was impressed by his business sense and flattered by his charm.
Just then, Barney growled, as though facing a monstrous foe, then began tugging at Sullivan’s pant leg.
“Oh, Barney!” Lissa set down her wineglass and picked up the pesky pooch. “Don’t chew on people. That’s why you have toys.”
Sullivan didn’t appear to be bothered by the possibility of a rip or tear in what had to be expensive slacks. “He’s a cute little guy. Looks like he has a little collie in him.”
She laughed. “And a little beagle and Australian shepherd. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if he had a bit of dachshund thrown into the mix.”
Sullivan chuckled. “He is pretty long and close to the ground. Where’d you get him?”
“At the dog pound. His number was up, so I guess you could say I saved his life. They were going to put him to sleep if no one adopted him by the end of that day.”
For a moment, Lissa thought about how her parents had chosen her over other orphaned babies.
As a child, she would fantasize about her biological parents, the people who’d given her up. She often thought of them as young lovers, forced apart like Romeo and Juliet.
Once she’d imagined herself as the daughter of royalty, stolen by gypsies and taken to the Children’s Connection, where her adoptive parents took pity upon her.
But as she grew older, she put away her childhood fantasies, accepting the fact that her biological parents just hadn’t wanted to be bothered with a baby.
Or, more important, that they hadn’t wanted to be bothered with her.
That didn’t, of course, mean that she didn’t ever think about them. That she didn’t ever wonder who they were or where they lived.
Or whether they ever thought about her.
Jared Cambry sat with his wife behind the closed doors of his home office and studied the telephone he’d just hung up. He glanced at Danielle, who stood beside him, silent and hopeful. Her puffy, red-rimmed eyes undoubtedly mirrored his own.
“What did Dr. Chambers say?” A sense of expectancy lingered in her voice, although her expression reflected the fear and despair they’d been living with since shortly after moving back to Portland.
Jared cleared his throat, trying to break free from the emotion lodged in his chest. “He said that the preliminary tests prove that none of us are a match.”
Danielle let out a sob she’d been holding back, and Jared quickly reached her side, taking her in his arms, trying to offer whatever support he could.
“We’re going to lose him,” she cried. “I feel so helpless.”
So did Jared.
Before the diagnosis, their lives had been perfect. Charmed.
He and Danielle were crazy about each other and had a great marriage. They’d thought their family was complete with a son and a daughter. But just eight years ago, they’d been blessed with an unexpected baby they’d named Mark.
Even as an infant, Mark had a joyful heart and a smile that lingered on his lips. He was a loving child, and he soon became the light of their lives.
As Danielle cried, Jared stroked her back, nestled his cheek against the dark-brown curls of her hair. Closed his eyes and blinked back his own tears.
God, this was hard. Brutal.
He held his wife close, trying to share his strength—or maybe to absorb some of hers.
Danielle was an admirable woman. And devoted to her family. At times, he felt as though she was the one who held them all together.
She had teaching credentials—high-school history—but since the birth of their oldest child, she’d been a stay-at-home mom who thrived on being the kind of mother every kid deserved.
Three active children kept her calendar full and her days busy, as she chauffeured them to orthodontic appointments, school events, piano lessons and Little League games. But she still found time to volunteer as a tutor in the adult literacy program at the library.
Jared looked at his wife, unable to tell her everything would be all right. How could he when he didn’t know if that was true?
“I’d thought Shawna would be the one,” she said. “She and Mark are so much alike.”
At fifteen, their daughter promised to be a lovely young woman. But the match could have easily been seventeen-year-old Chad, who was already proving to be a fine athlete, as well as a scholar.