The Seven Year Secret. Roz Fox Denny
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a child. Her child.”
Claire turned chalk-white. “Obviously she’s lying. Why, you spent almost six years alone, for all intents and purpose, on a remote island.”
He nodded miserably. “My rationale, exactly. But this little girl—named Lydia after my mother, by the way—is six now. There’s no mistaking she’s mine, Claire. These baby pictures could be me at the same age.”
Claire pressed her lips together tight, then poked gingerly through the photos until she came to the report. “What’s this? Proof of some kind? A demand for child support? What precisely does this woman want from you, Connor?”
“A kidney,” he said, straightening again. He lifted the cup of now-cold coffee to his lips and took a healthy swig, grimacing as he did so.
“This is hardly the time to crack jokes,” Claire snapped.
“I’m not joking. Read the paper. It’s from a Tallahassee doctor. A detailed explanation of my daughter’s condition, and the subsequent need for me to be tested as a possible organ donor.”
“Why you, Connor? Why can’t her mother give her a kidney?”
Connor rolled his head around his shoulders, failing to relieve the tight muscles in his neck and back. “The report says Mallory did give one of her kidneys eight months ago. Lydia’s body started rejecting the organ last month. Recently that kidney had to be removed.”
Claire picked up and read the report. Once she reached the end, she folded it neatly and glanced past him, fiddling with her cup. “It’s a unique way to get a man back, I have to admit.”
Connor stirred, angry at Claire for the first time since they’d met. It was the most cutting thing he’d ever heard her say. “This isn’t about my renewing a relationship with Mallory. In fact, the last thing she said before she left was that I’d deal exclusively with Dr. Dahl, who wrote the report. Mallory said there’d be no reason for my path and hers to cross again. For all I know, she may be married.”
Claire stared at him. “You didn’t ask? Come on, Connor, what did you talk about after she broke up your bachelor party? She did, didn’t she? Break it up? That’s why Paul was so rattled.”
“Yes. Although Paul was already rattled because he mistook Mallory for an exotic dancer he and Greg hired to perform at the party.”
“A stripper?”
Connor shrugged. “I can’t say. The party didn’t progress that far. The dancer showed up as I was trying to throw Mallory out.”
“Really? You were going to throw her out?”
“Yes. Before she shoved one of those baby pictures into my hands and announced in front of everyone that she and I had a child together.”
Claire fingered the report. “According to this, the mother’s dad and brother have been ruled out as potential donors. It doesn’t mention her mom. You said she headed up the state’s hurricane-relief volunteers.”
“Beatrice. Yeah. There was never any love lost between us. She wanted Mallory to marry an up-and-coming lawyer. She referred to me as that storm-chaser. Bea looked on me as a stray her daughter had rescued from the slums. I can’t tell you why she’s not a candidate. Her name only came up in passing today, when Mallory told me she named Lydia after both our mothers. Lydia Beatrice. She said everyone calls her Liddy Bea.”
“This is really happening, isn’t it,” Claire declared unhappily. “You have a child with another woman.”
Connor reached across the table and tried to take her hand, but she deflected him so fast, she bumped her cup and spilled coffee all over. “I’m sorry,” he said earnestly, using his napkin to soak it up while he moved Lydia’s pictures out of harm’s way. “I’d give anything for us not to be having this conversation. But, frankly, I doubt the news comes as any greater shock to you than it did to me. I haven’t seen or heard from Mallory Forrest since the night before I left Florida, headed for that remote island.” He thought it was probably wisest not to mention that he’d tried desperately—and unsuccessfully—to contact Mallory.
“Did you fight over your going away? Is that why you split up?”
A perplexed frown settled between his eyebrows. “No. Maybe. I don’t know. She seemed happy I’d gotten the grant. Honestly, Claire, seven years is a long time to recall a specific conversation.” Connor didn’t see any need to describe his and Mallory’s final parting. She’d cooked his favorite meal to celebrate the fact that he’d received his master’s. At the ceremony, a courier had brought him news of the grant.
What he hadn’t told Claire was that Mallory had wanted to go live in Hawaii. He informed her it’d be a bad idea to pack in what she had in Florida and trek halfway around the world on the off chance he’d see her a couple of times a year when or if he got breaks. She’d burst into tears and stormed out. A week later, after he realized how terribly he missed her, he’d written Mallory a letter, telling her he’d changed his mind. But she didn’t write back. In fact, she didn’t answer a single one of his letters. He’d poured out his heart in them, talking about love and marriage and the future. It was plain to see she hadn’t spent any time pining away for him.
“I don’t know, Connor. This all seems so ludicrous. So unreal. Like something out of a daytime soap.”
The waitress came by with a pot of hot coffee. “Oh, my. Didn’t your coffee taste right?” she asked.
“I’m afraid we let it get cold.” Connor slid their cups to the edge of the table. “Would it be an imposition to have you dump these and pour fresh?”
“Not at all. I would’ve come by earlier, but you two seemed engrossed.”
“Thank you” was Connor’s only comment. Claire said nothing. However, she was the first to sip from the new coffee when it arrived.
“What are your intentions toward this child?” she ventured, during a moment when Connor seemed content to let silence reign.
“Intentions? What do you mean? This is all brand-new to me, Claire. I haven’t made any concrete plans. But I don’t see how I can ignore the situation, do you?”
“No. No, of course not. She’s an innocent, regardless of what went on between you and her mother.”
“Nothing went on between us—not what you’re implying when you use that tone, Claire. We were best friends who drifted into a…a…well, when I began work on my master’s, Mallory got a job at a PR firm near the campus. We shared an apartment. In the beginning, it was to save money….”
“You lived with that woman?” Claire’s voice rose. “And we’re engaged, yet we’ve never spent a whole night together? Boy, do I feel like a fool, bragging to my friends about what a perfect gentleman you are.”
Connor swore under his breath. “I like to think I am a gentleman, Claire. I asked you to be my wife. Doesn’t that count for something?”
“I don’t know anymore. Right now I’m confused, Connor. I’ve built this image of you in my mind. Now I find out you’re not that person.”
“I’m exactly the same man you’ve been dating since we met. This all happened in another life. Which doesn’t alter the fact that I have obligations toward a child I unknowingly helped bring into this world.”
Claire looked completely unhappy as she murmured, “You make it sound so logical. I don’t want to lose you, Connor. But neither am I ready to go into marriage with this hanging over our heads.”
He forced her to connect with his eyes. “What’s your solution, then?”
“I think we should postpone the wedding.”
“All right. That shouldn’t be a monumental task, since we planned such a small gathering. I’ll phone half our guest list tomorrow. What excuse shall we give people?”