A Mother's Claim. Janice Kay Johnson

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      “About her family.” He shrugged. “She said she fell out of a tree when she was, I don’t remember, seven or eight and broke both her arms.” He sounded impressed. His own traumatic wound had been to his left shoulder, which made his teacher less sympathetic to his claim not to be able to keep up with his schoolwork while he was home recuperating. Christian had gone so far as to wish Jason had had the foresight to chop his right shoulder instead. “She couldn’t write or use a computer or anything, so she got out of practically all her schoolwork.”

      “Dumb way to fall.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “If you ever fall—from a horse, a cliff, even just trip—you relax and roll with it. You don’t hold both hands out to try to stop yourself.”

      Christian frowned. “Oh. Maybe I should practice.”

      Nolan lifted his eyebrows. “Throw yourself out of a few trees?”

      Christian thought that was hilarious.

      Increasingly wary, Nolan had begun to see Dana Stewart as a shrewd opponent, smart enough to have guessed—or possibly researched—what would appeal to an eleven-year-old boy.

      But no way would a gradually softening long-distance relationship satisfy her. His worry was that she was only filling the time while the legal team she’d retained drew up the papers to sue for custody.

      No message. He bounced the phone in his hand, feeling a sharp stab of anxiety. He knew he shouldn’t have taken so long to find an attorney capable of standing up to a team backed by Craig Stewart’s money. Nolan had asked around but not reached a decision. He didn’t like putting that much trust in the hands of someone motivated by the paycheck, but he’d been a fool to give her a head start.

      Wearing board shorts, flip-flops and a T-shirt that said Got Wind?, Trevor Bailey had just arrived. Trev was one of Nolan’s part-timers, a student at Portland State who would be full-time for the summer. Only nineteen, he was young but had a good head on his shoulders and a passion for windsurfing.

      “I need to make a call,” Nolan said. “Can you take over? The guy over there is looking for a new harness.”

      With a nod, Trev headed that way.

      Nolan didn’t move from behind the counter for a minute. Then he groaned, muttered, “Crap,” and went to his office. As he called her back, he rolled his shoulders.

      On the second ring, she picked up. “Mr. Gregor?”

      “Ms. Stewart.”

      “I know you must be at work, but I hoped to talk to you when Gabe—Christian—isn’t around. Is this a bad time?”

      “No.” He cleared his throat. “This is okay, if we can keep it quick.”

      The silence was brief. Apparently undaunted, she said, “You must realize I want to build a relationship with my son.”

      Nolan stiffened at the way she said my son. “Yeah, I figured that out.”

      “Doing so long-distance is impossible.”

      Oh, shit. Oh—

      “I have made the decision to move to Lookout.”

      Nolan blinked. Rarely struck dumb, he struggled to absorb what she’d just said. Move to Lookout. Not file a lawsuit. Move to his town. Become a neighbor? Or—good God—she couldn’t envision moving in with him and Christian, could she?

      “You make that sound easy,” he said after a minute.

      “Easy? No. I’ve had to give notice at work, will need to put my house up for sale, pack, find a new job and a new place to live in a town I’ve only visited once.” Her tone was dry, but beneath it was pure steel. “I’ve concluded that you’re right. Forcing Gabriel to come live with me in Colorado would be traumatic for him. But I won’t quit, either. If I’m there, I can see him regularly. Attend school conferences, watch him play sports, chauffeur him to friends’ houses.”

      He almost opened his mouth to tell her chauffeuring was rarely needed, given the size of Lookout, but stopped himself in time.

      “And if he doesn’t want to see you often?” he asked. “If the school balks at including a strange woman in conferences when they know me as Christian’s guardian?”

      “Then I prove I’m his mother and that you are not, in fact, his legal guardian.” No disguise for the steel this time. “Or even related to him.”

      His jaw clenched so tight his teeth ached. Thanks to the DNA matching, she had him dead in her sights.

      “So we’re back to a court battle.” He felt as grim as he sounded. “Those take a while, you know. Don’t you think this move is a little premature? Not going to help if I refuse you any contact with him.”

      Dana hesitated. He thought he could hear her breathing.

      “I don’t want a court battle,” she said, voice softer. “Christian’s father is eager to go that route.”

      Was she sincere? Or was she trying to fake him out with a kind of good-cop/bad-cop thing?

      “I want to become his mother without an ugly fight that will hurt Christian. I can...preempt any attempt Craig might make to sue for custody.”

      How altruistic of her. Despite his inner sneer, Nolan closed his eyes and let his head fall forward. He didn’t like what she was suggesting—it meant making concessions that could do damage to his side if they did end up in court—but he also knew she was right. This woman wasn’t going away. She might not love Christian...but she did love Gabriel.

      And, yes, he might win in court, but he could just as easily lose, a result that would devastate both Christian and him. His winning would do the same to Dana—and, maybe in the long run, not be so good for Christian, either.

      The only true win-win was to find a way to share the boy they both wanted to call son, but how was he supposed to trust her? What if Christian did warm to her, become curious about his extended family and agree to return to Colorado with her?

      He pinched the bridge of his nose until cartilage creaked. If that happened... Christian would always know Nolan was here. He’d have a solid base to jump from. And wasn’t that what parenting was all about, building your kid’s confidence so that when the day came, he had the self-assurance to leave home?

      It just might happen a lot sooner than Nolan had ever imagined. He wasn’t ready—but neither was Christian. Ms. Stewart was looking at a long haul.

      “You’re selling your house.” She’d said that, hadn’t she?

      “I am.” Her composure held despite the slightest tremor.

      “You’re burning some bridges there.”

      “I’m well aware.”

      He gusted a sigh. “You’re asking me to help you.” Or was it more accurate to say she was blackmailing him into helping her become СКАЧАТЬ