Child of Mine. Bonnie K. Winn

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      “Dessert, Leah?” Annie asked.

      “No, thanks.”

      “There’s a cheesecake over there calling out to me. I don’t want to be rude, so I think I’ll go answer.”

      “Mmm.”

      Annie shrugged and walked over to the dessert table.

      Leah watched Matt Whitaker and the child. Although she couldn’t hear what they were saying, the two heads were bent together and she could see the boy’s grin, Matt’s quick smile.

      They were close. It was evident in the easy body language, the looks they exchanged.

      Surely a man who loved his son this much would understand her quest.

      As Leah watched, the boy jumped up from the table, hugged Matt and then ran to join the other kids his age in the games that were beginning. Leah found it difficult to take her gaze from him, watching until he and the other children left the fellowship hall with a basketball, probably to go to the gymnasium.

      Annie had returned with her cheesecake, extra happy that she’d found chocolate sauce to go with it. She urged Leah to go over to see Matt.

      He was still at the table, finishing his meal, when she approached.

      “Mr. Whitaker?”

      He glanced up.

      “I’m Leah Hunter.”

      His expression turned wary. “Yes?”

      “I’ve been trying to reach you at your store. Sorry to ambush you here.” Leah smiled, trying to take the businesslike edge from her words. “I’m with Annie. I mean, she invited me to the church supper, being a stranger in town and all.”

      Not a word from him.

      “And me being at loose ends,” Leah continued, filling in the awkward silence. “I wasn’t planning to be in Rosewood long. I just came to talk to you. I think Nan gave you my card.”

      The silence was so protracted she wondered if he would speak.

      When he finally did, his voice was deep, somber. “She gave it to me.”

      Which told her nothing. “So…” Leah studied his unblinking gaze. “I’m trying to trace down a box I have—”

      “Nan told you we don’t keep records on the boxes.”

      “She said you only make the boxes for family or special friends—”

      “Miss Hunter, my friends don’t sell their boxes.”

      “I didn’t say I’d bought it.”

      “You’ve come a long way for nothing then.” He stood, stepping aside and pushing his chair up to the table.

      “No, Mr. Whitaker, I haven’t.” She pulled the box from her purse. “This is the first clue I’ve had to finding my son in eight years and you’re not going to just dismiss me.” She held it up. “This belonged to Kyle Johnson. Did you know him?”

      His expression was at first startled, then guarded. His lips thin, pressed tightly together. One word finally emerged, as though it were painful to say. “Yes.”

      Her hope, thready at best, flared. She bit her lower lip to stave off tears. “Oh, Mr. Whitaker, you don’t know what this means to me.” Despite her effort, one tear slipped down her cheek and she wiped it away. “Where can I find him? I know he’s difficult to pin down.”

      “Not anymore.”

      “No?”

      “He’s dead.”

      Chapter Three

      Reeling, Leah stared at Matt’s back as he walked away. She’d never let herself believe Kyle could be dead. Because if he were, that meant…

      But the investigators had never found Kyle’s death certificate. Whitaker had to be wrong.

      “Wait! Please!” She ran to catch up to him. “When did Kyle die?”

      He stopped and turned to her, his words clipped. “Eight years ago.”

      She gasped. Shaking, she felt the last remnants of her self-control slip away. “That can’t be. We’ve been checking for years and never found a death certificate.”

      “His first name was John. Kyle was part of his middle name—Litchkyl.”

      All of Kyle’s lies. Even his name. He’d signed their marriage certificate as Kyle Johnson. He’d cheapened every single thing about their marriage.

      She closed her eyes, afraid to ask. Hope and despair warred in her heart. Swallowing, she lifted her chin. “And the baby? The boy?”

      He hesitated.

      And her heart nearly stopped.

      “Is safe.”

      “Where is he?”

      Matt stared at her.

      “Please, if you know anything.” She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I haven’t explained myself very well. I was married to Kyle. The baby, the boy, I mean, is mine. I’ve been looking for him. That’s why I’m here, why I’m trying to trace the box. So, if you can tell me anything…”

      “It’s too late. You made your choice.”

      She gaped at him. Where did he get off…? “I understand loyalty to a deceased friend, but you don’t understand the circumstances—”

      “I understand plenty.”

      There was derision in his tone, but she had no idea why. “I don’t know what Kyle told you—”

      “The truth.”

      She shook her head. “His version. Despite what he may have said, I need to find my son. You’re a father. You must understand that.”

      “I understand you walked away once. Do the best thing for your son again. Walk away now.”

      Stunned, Leah watched as Matt Whitaker crossed the room and headed out the door.

      Back at the bed-and-breakfast, Leah sat in one of the overstuffed chairs near her bedroom window. She still couldn’t believe Matt Whitaker’s reaction. And she never would have imagined that Kyle could elicit such loyalty.

      Kyle dead. For all her anger, it wasn’t something she would have wished. He’d been so young.

      Who was raising her son? Had he been legally adopted?

      Throat dry, she considered the possibilities—along СКАЧАТЬ