Mixed Blessings. Cathy Marie Hake

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СКАЧАТЬ sat on the couch and held Ricky while Marie tucked in Luke by herself. Those few moments she spent alone with Jack’s little son were bittersweet. Even after he’d fallen asleep, she held him close to her heart. Finally, she whispered a prayer over him, slipped him onto his bed and covered him with a satin-edged baby blanket. One kiss wasn’t enough. The second and third were just as precious.

      She knew she had to leave. It felt like a giant was reaching in and tearing her heart from her breast. Each step she took from his room and down the hall took monumental effort.

      Peter rose from the couch as she reentered the playroom. Ricky lay in his arms like a boneless cat. He’d fallen asleep, just like Luke. “I’ll carry him out for you.”

      She blinked back tears and reached out. “My arms feel too empty. Please—” To her relief, Peter relinquished Ricky.

      Peter’s face was pale and taut. Marie suspected his composure was starting to crack. Part of her wanted to stay so he wouldn’t have to bear the anguish alone, but she had no emotional reserves and couldn’t do anything to lessen the impact of this disaster. Left alone, he’d at least keep his dignity.

      She made it to the front door, but Peter pressed a hand to the oak panel, blocking her exit. “Marie—”

      “Peter, you have to let us go.”

      His troubled gaze held her captive. “For now—but things are far from resolved.”

      Marie nodded. Ricky stirred and lifted his head. Marie shrank as Peter completely closed the few inches between them. Back pressed against the wall, she gulped and her eyes widened. Then his head dipped.

      “Bye-bye, tiger. You’re a wonderful boy. I was so happy to meet you. I’ll see you again, soon.” He spoke the words very softly, very tenderly, before he kissed Ricky’s cheek and rumpled his hair. Genuine affection glowed in his eyes.

      His sweetness to her son meant the world—until he whispered to her, “You take good care of him until I can.”

      Chapter Three

      The phone rang as Marie crossed the threshold. Too tired to care, Marie let go of Ricky’s hand and smiled wearily at her sister. “I don’t know how people commute long distances to work.”

      Sandy gave her a sympathetic look, then glanced at the still-jangling phone and made a wry face. “You’d better answer that. Some guy named Peter has been calling every fifteen minutes for the last two hours. He’s frantic.”

      “Great.” Marie rubbed her aching back as she headed for the phone. “Hello?”

      “Marie! It’s eight forty-seven! You’ve been driving long past dark. What took you so long? Was there a problem?”

      Her purse strap slid down from her shoulder, and Marie let her bag drop onto the battered, white kitchen counter with a muffled thump. Shoving her hair back from her forehead, she sighed, “We’re fine.”

      “What took you so long?”

      Peter’s voice sounded ragged with concern, but Marie didn’t want to think about him or his feelings at the moment. His parting words kept echoing in her head. You take good care of him until I can. All the way home, she’d worried that Peter meant to try to take Ricky away. She’d been so absorbed, she’d failed to look at the gauges and run out of gas.

      “I said, we’re fine.”

      “Thank heavens! Marie, your car is leaking oil. I saw a pool of fresh oil right where you were parked. I worried you broke down or something.”

      “We made it home in one piece.”

      “Good!” His sigh of relief flowed over the line.

      Marie cleared her throat. “When I stopped to get gas, my license and cards were in the wrong places in my wallet.”

      The line went silent.

      “Mr. Hallock? I believe an answer is in order.” She could hear his steps as he paced back and forth on a hard surface someplace. The silence told her he was considering several possible explanations. That fact irked her. She wanted the truth.

      “While you were in my house,” he said in a well-modulated tone, “the security officer did a search of the car and your purse. He copied your identification and put it back.”

      I wanted him to be honest—but I also hoped he’d be honorable. Fatigue gave way to anger. “I’m so mad, I could spit nails! How dare you do such a thing!”

      He made an impatient sound. “I didn’t have a choice! You have my son!”

      “How am I supposed to respond to that?” She glanced behind herself to be sure Ricky wasn’t in the room. Taking care to lower her voice, she hissed, “Am I expected to scream that Ricky is mine, or do you want me to lay claim to Luke?”

      Another silence ensued. Peter finally admitted, “That didn’t come out right. You were wise to leave. I’m starting to go nuts already, and I really don’t want anyone seeing me when I feel this out of control. I’m glad you got home safely. Good night, Marie.”

      “Good night, Peter.” Marie hung up the phone.

      “Oh, sis! It sounds bad.” Sandy’s eyes held consolation as she maneuvered her wheelchair closer. When her chair came to a halt, she pushed her headband back to restrain a fall of sun-bleached blond hair.

      “I’ve opened Pandora’s box.”

      “I told you to get a lawyer or a private investigator. You could have at least let one of the guys on the force run a sheet on Peter Hallock.”

      Marie compressed her lips and tried to ignore the storm of emotions raging inside her. She hadn’t wanted to get anyone else involved. She didn’t have money to hire professional help, and it felt creepy to ask one of Jack’s old buddies to pull strings. Any number of them would have done so in a heartbeat. Now she wished she would have.

      “What’s he—your real, biological son—like?”

      Marie flopped down on her brown tweed couch. She gave Ricky a vague smile as he came out of the bathroom. “Go get your jammies, Rick. It’s bedtime.”

      “So?” Sandy prompted as Ricky disappeared into his room.

      “He’s beautiful, Sandy. Beautiful. His eyes are blue, but they’re shaped just like Jack’s. His mouth is, too. He looks like a cherub. He’s a few inches shorter than Ricky, but maybe a bit stockier.”

      “What did they name him?”

      “Luke.” She closed her eyes. “My day was a disaster. How was yours?”

      “Rehab went well. They’re pushing me to join an independent living group. Do you think I’m ready?”

      “I think you will be soon.” Marie accepted the race-car-printed flannel pajamas she’d made and helped Ricky into them. Ordinarily, he’d try to change all on his own, but after a long, trying day, he’d come out to seek her help and reassurance. She gave him an extra hug after she СКАЧАТЬ