15
Gwen
Shock rolls over me, and I can only stare at the child sitting at the table. Next to her, a pretty dark-haired woman is smiling at me with tentative steel-gray eyes. She must be the sister, Cat, but I can’t focus on her.
I can only focus on the little girl, watching me with wide whiskey eyes that match her father’s.
Jackson’s secret is finally revealed and in my wildest imagination I couldn’t have dreamed it, although in retrospect all those unexplained pieces fall into place.
The girl looks to be around five, the same age that matches the time of Jackson’s disappearing act. She has hair of spun gold, glossy and bright, falling in a cascade around her small shoulders. She has the face of an angel.
She’s in a wheelchair.
My mind races back to when Jackson had been pulled home in the middle of the night. The night I thought he might be hiding a wife.
But no, that wasn’t it at all.
He was hiding his child.
Wyatt walks to the table and kisses the little girl on the top of her head.
She beams up at him. “Hi, Uncle Wyatt.”
“Hi, baby.” He strokes a hand down her hair and tilts his head in the direction of the woman. “This is our sister, Cat.”
I smile and stutter out, “It’s nice to meet you both.”
“You too,” Cat says, her gaze intent on me, the speculation in the curve of her lips. “Natalie, this is Gwen. She’s a friend of Daddy’s.”
The little girl looks at me. “You know Daddy?”
I shift on the balls of my feet, feeling awkward and out of place, unsure of myself in a way I haven’t felt in a long time. I’m still reeling and haven’t gotten my bearings yet.
“I am.” I take a cautious step toward her. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
“It is nice to meet me,” Natalie says, making us all laugh and breaking some of the tension around the room.
“It certainly is.” I have a million questions, but I can’t ask any of them. I can barely wrap my mind around this turn of events.
Cat gestures to an open chair. “Come, have a seat.”
Thankful to have something to do, I walk over and sit down next to Natalie, soaking her in. Why couldn’t Jackson have told me about her? I don’t understand. I smile at the little girl. “And how old are you, Natalie?”
“I’m five and three-fourths.” Her tiny voice makes my heart thunder in my ears.
I let it sink in. I’m sitting here with Jackson’s daughter. “I see, and when’s your birthday?”
Her brow furrows a little. “I’m a Christmas baby.”
“Ah, well that’s a very special day to be born.”
“Yeah, they say that.” Her lips curve down. “But I think they say that because I don’t get my own presents.”
Cat rolls her eyes. “Girl, please, you’re a spoiled princess.”
“Am not.” Natalie wrinkles her nose.
“Are too.” Cat shakes her head at me. “Don’t let her fool you, she’s a con artist.”
Natalie gives me a sly glance. “Daddy says I’m perfect.”
“I’m sure your daddy is right,” I say, my voice serious.
Wyatt moves to the counter. “Gwen, do you want some coffee?”
I tear my gaze away from Natalie. “Thank you, that’d be great.”
“You talk funny,” Natalie announces, pulling my attention back to her.
Cat gives her a little pat on the hand. “That’s not polite.”
I shake my head and wink at the little girl. “It’s all good, I’m not easily offended.”
“What’s offended?” Natalie asks.
Cat settles back in her chair and watches us as Wyatt puts a cup of steaming coffee in front of me.
Clearly they want to see how I handle things. I wrap my hands around the warmth and hope it steadies me enough to pass this test. “It means you can say anything to me and I probably won’t get mad.”
She nods, flexes her fingers on her wheelchair. “So why do you talk funny?”
I smile at her. “Because I’m not from around here. I live in Chicago. Have you ever been there?”
She frowns and looks at her aunt and uncle.
Cat shakes her head. “You’ve never been there, not even when you were a baby.”
Natalie looks back at me. “I’ve never been. Do they all talk like you?”
“For the most part.” I take a sip of coffee and try to think of something to say. Something to ask. I have no experience with kids. I have no idea what kind of conversation to make with her, even though I want to know absolutely everything about her from her favorite color, to why she’s in a wheelchair, and where her mommy might be.
Luckily, she fills in the gap for me. “You have pretty hair.”
“Why thank you, so do you.” I notice a paper in front of her and point to it. “What are you doing there?”
She holds it up and it’s filled with large, irregular letters. “I’m working on my alphabet.” She flutters thick lashes at me. “I can write my name, real good.”
I widen my eyes. “Oh really? Want to show me?”
“Yes!” She glances at Cat. “Can I have new paper?”
“Of course you can, sweetie.” Cat pulls a fresh sheet from the pile next to her. “What color crayon do you want?”
Natalie looks at me. “What’s your favorite color?”
I tilt my head and pretend to think about it real hard. “Purple.”
She beams. “Me too!”
“You have excellent taste.”
Cat hands her a purple crayon and Natalie bends her head, and with intense concentration starts drawing on the paper.
With Natalie occupied, Jackson’s sister turns to me. “Thank you for coming.”
Wyatt joins us at the table and all three of us face off.
I glance furtively at Natalie then back at Cat. “Thank you.” My throat tightens and I blink the sudden swell of tears. I shake my head to ward them off. “I didn’t understand.”
Cat rolls her eyes. Her hair is a rich, dark brown, and swings around her shoulders. “My brother.”
I smile, glancing furtively at Natalie. “He’s…um…quite a piece of work.”
She laughs. “That’s one way of putting it.”
I look back and forth between Wyatt and Cat and feel compelled to once again express my gratitude. “I don’t know why you decided to do this, but I’m thankful.”
Cat shifts her gaze to Natalie then back to me. “He’s been such an A-S-S.”
Before she can go on, Natalie lifts her head. “I know what that spells. You said a bad word.”
“No, I didn’t. I spelled a bad word,” Cat says.
“Mrs. Potts says it doesn’t matter. Swears in your heart are bad.”
“Mrs. Potts doesn’t know everything.” Cat shakes her head. “Good god, between the two of them I never get away with anything.”
I laugh, relaxing a little in this strange turn of events. “Who’s Mrs. Potts?”
Wyatt leans back on his chair and stretches out his long legs. “Mrs. Potts is our housekeeper and helps take care of Natalie.”
I bite my lip, wanting to ask but I’m not sure if it’s polite, so I don’t.
Wyatt must see the questions in my face because he smiles a little. “Natalie was born with cerebral palsy.”
I clutch my mug tighter. “I see.”
Natalie lifts her head and says to me. “My muscles and head don’t work right.”
“Not right,” Cat corrects her. “Different.”
“Different.” Natalie gives me a look like, can you believe these guys, and I grin at her.
She seems wise beyond her years and she’s clearly a little smart-ass, obviously taking after her father. I ask her. “Is it hard?”
“Sometimes it hurts.” She wrinkles her nose. “I want to walk and run and not shake.”
“Shake?” I glance back at Wyatt and Cat.
Wyatt says, “Seizures.”
The calls. The disappearances.
“That must be tough.” Should I sugar coat it? I don’t see why. “Although, I bet you can beat most kids in a race because wheels go faster than feet.”
She appears to ponder this before she nods. “I’ve never been in a race.”
“We’ll have to change that, won’t we?” I say, vowing to make it happen somehow.
“Can we?” she asks.
“Absolutely.” And it hits me that I’m making a promise I can’t keep. I’m leaving in a few hours. The thought depresses me.
Before I can think more about it, she pushes the piece of paper over to me. Her name is written big and bold across the paper. “Wow, I’m impressed.”
“Well, I am almost six,” Natalie says. “I can read too.”
“What’s your favorite book?” I ask.
“Pigeon Goes to Bed.”
“I can’t say I’ve ever heard of it.” I was expecting Cat in the Hat, which seems to be the only children’s book I can recall at the moment.
“I can read it to you.” She giggles. “The pigeon won’t go to sleep.”
“Like someone I know,” Cat says, her voice full of fondness.
“I want to wait for Daddy to kiss me good night.”
“Daddy gets home too late for you to wait for him, but he always kisses you good night, even when you’re sleeping,” Wyatt says.
Her little brow furrows, drawing her golden brows together. “I know, but I want to hug him.”
At the image of Jackson bending over this angel-faced child, kissing her forehead, my chest grows tight, and my eyes sting. I also experience a pang of guilt at all the times I’d kept him in my bed, but how was I to know? How could I have guessed?
An older woman, with an ample body and iron-gray hair ambles into the room and calls out, “It’s time for your therapy, Natalie.”
The little girl sighs. “But, Gwen’s here.”
The woman looks at me. “Well, hello, Miss Gwen. I’m Mrs. Potts.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I nod my head in greeting.
“It’s about time you showed up, I’m tired of that boy being a brute.” Her voice is stern, like I should have known and been over a long time ago.
“I’m sorry,” I say automatically.
She puts her hands on her large hips. “You should be.”
“I…” I trail off and shrug.
Wyatt smiles at me. “She’s the family dictator.”
I laugh.
Mrs. Potts scowls. “Do not sass me, young man.”
“I’m thirty-six.”
She shushes him and walks over to Natalie, putting her hands on the rails of the chair. She turns an eagle-eyed glare on me. “I trust you’re staying for dinner.”
Wyatt, Cat and Natalie all look at me, all wearing near identical expressions of speculation, making their family resemblance even more apparent.
I bite my lower lip. I’m supposed to leave. Soon. Wyatt will need to drive me back to my room so I can get my bags and get on a plane back home.
I don’t know what to do. I have no idea what the right course of action is. It’s uncomfortable. I always know what to do, what path to take.
If I stay, I’ll be forced to deal with Jackson, who I know well enough to know he’s not going to be happy about this. That’s an understatement.
He’s going to be furious.
Although, he’ll be furious even if I’m not here, because for some reason I don’t quite understand, his brother and sister decided to go behind his back and introduce me to his daughter.
He’d rather me leave, instead of telling me about Natalie, which means my introduction to his little girl is the last thing he wants.
If I stay or go, he’s going to be angry.
I take in the little girl, with her big whiskey eyes, staring at me with expectation, and make my decision.
I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay and suffer the consequences right along with Cat and Wyatt.
I smile. “I’d be happy to stay for dinner.”
“Good.” Mrs. Potts pats Natalie on the head. “So there’s no reason to make your Daddy mad and not do your therapy.”
“But I don’t feel like it. I want to stay and talk to Gwen,” her voice turns into a pitiful, overly dramatic whine.
“You can talk to Gwen after you’re done, missy,” Mrs. Potts says, her voice broaching no more argument.
Natalie sighs, long and exasperated. “Fine.”
I grin at the girl. “I’ll be here when you’re done.”
“Promise?” she asks.
I nod. “Promise.”
Mrs. Potts takes her through a doorway out the back, leaving me alone with Wyatt and Cat.
Wyatt scrubs a hand over his jaw. “So you’re staying?”
“It looks that way.” I shrug. “For at least a little while longer.”
“Good.”
“This way Jackson can be mad at all of us,” Cat says.
I take a long gulp of my coffee and blow out a breath. “This should be fun.”
Cat raises a brow. “Did we make the right decision?”
I nod. “I don’t quite understand why you did it, but yes.”
Cat tosses a glance at her brother who shrugs. “If I’m being honest, Beau talked us into it.”
“He did?” Another surprise.
Wyatt nods. “He’s fond of you, he thinks you’re good for Jackson and he knows he’s too stubborn to help himself, so Beau decided.”
Cat tucks a lock of hair around her ear. “We argued and debated about it, but in the end we decided to take the risk.”
“Thank you.” I glance at the door where Natalie left. “Even if he kicks me to the curb the second he finds out, it was worth it just to meet her.”
“We hoped you’d feel that way,” Cat says.
“I have so many questions,” I admit, still overwhelmed.
Wyatt leans forward. “We’ve done our part, you’ll have to ask Jackson the rest.”
I hold up my hands. “Fair enough. You’ve done more than enough.”
Wyatt glances at a large wooden clock over the massive industrial-size refrigerator. “With that, I’ve got some work to check on before dinner. Mrs. Potts doesn’t tolerate lateness.”
“I can imagine.” I smile at him. “Thanks again.”
He leaves me alone with Jackson’s baby sister and I smile at her, then laugh. “I have no idea what to say.”
She chuckles. “It’s a little overwhelming, I’m sure. But know we’re all glad you’re here. Even if it’s only for a short time.”
I shake my head. “I don’t understand how he kept it a secret, when he left. How does nobody know he has a child?”
“Everyone around here knows he does.” Cat gets up and goes to the coffeepot and brings it over. Refreshing our cups before sitting back down. “But we’re a small town, and most everyone that comes looking for him is an uppity Northerner, so they’re not about to tell his secrets to an outsider.”
“I guess it makes sense, but I still don’t get it.”
“Like Wyatt says, you’ll have to talk to Jackson.”
I square my shoulders, a newfound determination washing over me. “Oh, believe me, I will be.”
She laughs. “Give him hell, he needs it.”
I blow on my coffee. “He certainly does.”
Jackson
When Beau told me to go home and have dinner with my family I didn’t protest. I’d asked him to wait until Gwen was gone. He’d done his duty and sent me on my way. I don’t blame him for wanting to get rid of me the first chance he got, I’ve been shit to work with.
Not even the most forward, most persistent women dared approach me today.
Which was a good thing because I’m sure as fuck not in the mood.
I’m weary, deep down in my bones. My eyes are tired and gritty.
I ache.
I keep telling myself I did the right thing letting her go, and I even believe it, but this is the shittiest I’ve felt since I got the call almost six years ago.
Sometimes you’re forced to walk away from things that make you happy and alive for the greater good.
Like back then, this is one of those times.
I don’t regret walking away from my career, I’d had no other choice, but that doesn’t mean I don’t miss it.
Someday I’m sure I won’t regret walking away from Gwen either, it’s just that today’s not that day.
I pull up to the house and pinch the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger, shaking my head a little to clear it. I’ve got to scrub away all traces unhappiness because my insightful, too smart daughter can read me like an open book.
I have to wear the façade for her because I don’t like when Natalie worries about me as if she’s the parent and I’m the child. I crack my neck first one way then the next like I’m a prize fighter preparing for the ring before climbing off my bike and bounding up the stairs two at a time.
I push open the door and call out, “I’m home.”
“In here, Daddy,” Natalie calls back to me.
I smile, the sound of her voice reaching inside and squeezing just like she’s been doing since the day she was born. I throw my keys onto the table by the front door and walk down the hall to where the kitchen is.
Mrs. Potts serves dinner at six thirty sharp every day, so I know they’ve just sat down to eat and I’m about to get shit for being three minutes late to the table. Mrs. Potts is cantankerous, ornery and thinks she’s the boss of all of us, but we wouldn’t have her any other way.
How can I when she takes such good care of Natalie?
I push the swinging door and walk into the room. “How’s my girl today?”
All other words die on my lips and I freeze.
My brother and sister and daughter all sit in their respective places, just as they should.
Only Gwen is there too, her blue eyes direct and unwavering. Defiant.
Fury storms through me, racing in my veins and rushing across my skin at the sight of her at the table. Looking for all the world like she belongs there, right next to Natalie.
When she sure as fuck doesn’t belong.
She’s supposed to be gone.
She’s supposed to be flying overhead on her way back to Chicago. Back to her life, and out of mine.
She’s not supposed to be sitting next to my daughter.
Natalie beams at me, all teeth and bright eyes. “Gwen’s staying for dinner! Isn’t that fun?”
Gwen’s gaze locks on mine, and I know her well enough to see the unease there. Beyond her bold stare she’s preparing for my anger.
Well good, she’ll be getting it in spades.