Birthright (19 page)

As soon as he'd asked, he knew the answer. And the grin faded.

“Never mind. Mom pulled you into this.”

“You've seen the video.”

“I've done more than see the video. I got a close-up look, live and in person.”

Jay moved in closer to his son. “What did you think?”

“What am I supposed to think? I didn't know her. She's got Mom stirred up, that's all I know.”

“Your mother told me she went to see this woman, not the other way around.”

“Yeah, well.” Doug shrugged. “What difference does it make?”

“What about Roger?”

“That news segment of her shook him up, but he's holding pretty steady. You know Grandpa.”

“Has he been out to this dig to see her?”

“No.” Doug shook his head. “He said he was afraid if we started coming at her, started crowding her, she'd just leave, or refuse the tests or something. But he wants to. He's been reading books on archaeology, like he wants to have something to talk to her about once we're all one big, happy family again.”

“If she's your sister . . . If she is, we need to know. Whatever the hell we do about it, we need to know. I'm going to go talk to Roger before I head out. Keep an eye on your mom, okay?”

F
ull of the thrill of his time at the dig, Tyler broke away from his mother as they came into the bookstore. His face glowed with excitement and innocent sweat as he raced toward the counter to hold up a flattened chunk of rock.

“Look, Grandpa Roger, look what I got!”

With a quick glance of apology toward Jay, Lana hurried over. “Ty, don't interrupt.”

Before she could scoop up her son, Roger was adjusting his glasses and leaning over. “Whatcha got there, big guy?”

“It's a part of a spear, an
Indian
spear, and maybe they killed people with it.”

“I'll be darned. Why, is that blood I see on there?”

“Nuh-uh.” But fascinated by the idea, Ty peered at the spear point. “Maybe.”

“Sorry.” Lana picked Ty up, set him on her hip. “Indiana Jones here forgets his manners.”

“When I get big, I can dig up bones.”

“And won't that be fun?” Lana rolled her eyes and adjusted Ty's weight. Not much longer, she thought with a little pang, and she wouldn't be able to carry him this way.
“But however big we are, we don't interrupt people when they're having a conversation.”

“Sit that load on down here.” Roger patted the counter. “Lana, this is my . . .”
Son-in-law
still came most naturally to his lips. “This is Douglas's father, Jay. Jay, this is Lana Campbell, the prettiest lawyer in Woodsboro, and her son, Tyler.”

Lana set Tyler on the counter, offered a hand. “It's nice to meet you, Mr. Cullen.”

She saw Callie's eyes, Doug's nose. Would he, she wondered, feel the same jolt of astonished pleasure seeing those parts of himself in his children as she did seeing her own in Ty? “Tyler and I have just been visiting the Antietam Creek Project.”

He knows, she thought as she saw emotion wash over his face. He knows the daughter taken from him so many years before is standing, right now, only a few miles away.

“And they got skeleton parts and lotsa rocks and fo—What are they?” Ty asked his mother.

“Fossils.”

“Dr. Leo let me have this, and it's
millions
of years old.”

“Goodness.” Roger smiled, though Lana saw him reach over, touch Jay's arm. “That's even older than me.”

“Really?” Ty stared up at Roger's craggy face. “You can come dig with me sometime. I'll show you how. And I got candy, too. Dr. Jake pulled it out of my
ear
!”

“You don't say?” Obliging, Roger leaned down as if to search in Ty's ear. “I guess you ate it all.”

“It was only one piece. Dr. Leo said it was magic and Dr. Jake has lots of tricks up his sleeve. But I didn't see any more.”

“Sounds like you had quite a day.” Amused, Jay tapped Ty on one grubby knee. “Is it all right if I see your rock?”

“Okay.” Ty hesitated. “But you can't keep it, right?”

“No. Just to look.” Just to hold something, Jay thought, that might have a connection with Jessica. “This is very cool. I used to collect rocks when I was a boy, and I had some Civil War bullets, too.”

“Did they kill anybody?” Ty wanted to know.

“Maybe.”

“Ty's very bloodthirsty these days.” Lana caught a movement out of the corner of her eye, turned. “Hello, Doug.”

“Lana.” He studied the boy who was bouncing on the counter and trying to suppress, Doug imagined, the need to tell an adult to give him back his treasure.

Pretty kid, he thought. Looked like his mother. Absently, Doug ran a hand over Ty's tumbled hair. “You kill anyone lately?”

Ty's eyes went wide. “Nuh-uh. Did you?”

“Nope.” He took the spear point from Jay, turned it over in his hand, then offered it back to Ty. “Are you going to be an archaeologist?”

“I'm gonna be . . . what's the other one?” he asked Lana.

“Paleontologist,” she supplied.

“I'm gonna be that, 'cause you get to find dinosaurs. Dinosaurs are the best. I got a sticker book about them.”

“Yeah, they're the best. I used to have a collection of dinosaurs. They were always fighting, trying to eat each other. Remember, Dad?”

“Hard to forget the bloodcurdling screams and chomping.”

“Is he your dad?” Ty wanted to know.

“That's right.”

“My dad had to go to heaven, but he still watches out for me 'cause that's what dads do. Right?”

“We try.” Jay felt a fresh wave of grief wash through him.

“Do you play baseball?” Fascinated, as always, with the concept of dads, Ty began to swing his legs. “I got to play T-ball, and Mom helped. But she doesn't catch real good.”

“Well, I like that.” Lana gave Ty a quick drill in the belly with her finger. “Do you have a minute?” Lana asked Doug. “I need to speak with you.”

“Sure.”

Since he made no move to lead her somewhere more private, she turned an exasperated look to Roger.

“Leave the big guy with me,” Roger offered. “Doug, why don't you take Lana in the back, get her a nice cold drink?”

“Okay.” He gave Ty a tap on the nose. “See you later, Ty-Rex. What?” he demanded as Lana made a choking sound.

“Nothing. Thanks, Roger. Nice to meet you, Mr. Cullen. Ty, behave.” With that, she followed Doug into the back room.

“So.” She brushed back her hair as he dug in the mini-fridge for cold drinks. “I guess you didn't enjoy yourself as much as I did the other night.”

He felt a little finger of unease tickle its way up his spine. “I said I did.”

“You haven't called to ask if you could see me again.”

“I've been tied up with things.” He held out a Coke. “But I thought about it.”

“I can't read your mind, can I?”

As she opened the can, he thought about the way she looked in snug jeans. “Probably just as well,” he decided.

She tilted her head. “You probably thought that was a compliment.”

“Well, my thoughts were pretty flattering.” He popped the top, gave her another once-over as he lifted the can. “I didn't figure you owned a pair of jeans. The other times I've seen you, you've been all spruced up.”

“The other times I've either been working or going out to what I thought was a very nice dinner with an interesting man. Today, I'm playing with my son.”

“Cute kid.”

“Yes, I think so. If you're going to ask me out, I'd like you to do it now.”

“Why?” He felt his neck muscles tighten when she only arched her brows. “Okay, okay. Man. You want to go out tomorrow night?”

“Yes, I would. What time?”

“I don't know.” He felt like he was being gently, thoroughly squeezed. “Seven.”

“That'll be fine.” With what she considered their personal business concluded, she set her briefcase on Roger's desk. “Now that we've settled that, I should let you know I'm Callie Dunbrook's lawyer.”

“Excuse me?”

“I'm representing Callie Dunbrook in the matter of establishing her identity.”

Now those neck muscles bunched like fists. “What the hell does she need a lawyer for?”

“That's between my client and myself. However, this is one matter she directed me to share with you.” Lana opened her briefcase, took out legal papers. “I drew up these papers, per her request. She instructed me to give you a copy.”

He didn't reach out. He had to fight back the urge to hold his hands behind his back. First she maneuvers him into a date—date number two, he amended. Then she drops the bomb. And all without breaking a sweat.

All while looking like
Vogue
's version of the casual, country mom.

“What the hell's up with you?”

“In what context?”

He slapped the can down on the desk. “Did you come in here to wrangle another date or to serve me with legal papers?”

She pursed that pretty sex-kitten mouth. “I suppose the word ‘wrangle' is accurate enough, if unflattering. However, I'm not serving you with papers. I'm providing you with a copy, per my client's request. So if the question is rephrased, and you ask did I come in today to wrangle another date or to provide you with legal papers, the answer is both.”

She picked up his soft drink can, set it on the blotter so it wouldn't leave a ring on the desk. “And if you're uncomfortable with the idea of seeing me socially while I'm representing Callie, I'll respect that.”

She took a small sip of the Coke. Very small, as the gesture was for effect rather than thirst. “Even though I consider it stupid and shortsighted.”

“You're an operator,” he muttered.

“Calling a lawyer an operator is redundant. And I've heard all the jokes. Do you want to retract your request for a date tomorrow at seven?”

Frustration shimmered around him. “Then I'd be stupid and shortsighted.”

She smiled, very, very sweetly. “Exactly. And of course, you'd deprive yourself of my very stimulating company.”

“Do you carry a ribbon around so you can tie on a bow after you box a guy in?”

“What color would you prefer?”

He had to laugh, just as he had to take a step back. “I'm attracted to you. That's a no-brainer. I like you,” he added. “I haven't quite figured out why. But because I do I'm going to be straight with you. I'm not relationship material.”

“Maybe I just want mindless sex.”

His mouth fell open. He swore he felt his jaw hit his toes. “Well . . . huh.”

“I don't.” She picked up his drink again, handed it to him. He looked as if he could use something a great deal stronger. “But it's sexist and narrow-minded of you to assume that because I'm female I'm trying to structure a relationship out of a couple of casual dates. Or further, that being a young widow with a small child, I'd be looking for a man to complete my little world.”

“I didn't mean . . . I thought I should . . .” He stopped, took a long drink. “There's nothing I can say at this point that won't jam my foot further down my throat. I'll see you at seven tomorrow.”

“Good.” She held out the papers again.

He'd hoped she'd forgotten about them. “What the hell are they?”

“Very self-explanatory, but if you'd like to read them now, I'd be happy to answer any questions you might have.” She solved the matter by pushing them against his hands until he had to take them.

Without his reading glasses he had to squint, but it didn't take him long to get the gist. It was right there in black and white, and clear as glass despite the legal wordsmithing.

Lana watched his face harden, those dark eyes narrow and glint as he read. Anger suited him, she decided. Odd how temper sat so sexily on a certain type of man.

A difficult man, she thought, and one she was probably
foolish to become involved with. But she knew, too well, that life was too short not to enjoy being foolish from time to time.

Her own tragedy had taught her to be careful about taking anything for granted, even if it was a burgeoning friendship with a complicated man.

Life, and all the people who passed through it, was work. Why should he be any different?

He lowered the papers, and that angry glint blasted her. “You can tell your client to kiss my ass.”

She kept her expression bland, her voice mild. “I'd prefer you relayed that yourself.”

“Fine. I'll do that.”

“Before you do.” She laid a hand on his arm, felt the muscles quiver. “I don't think it's a breach of client confidentiality to tell you that my impression of Callie is of a strong, compassionate woman who is, at the moment, in a great deal of turmoil and trying to do what's right for everyone involved. I think that would include you.”

“I don't care.”

“Maybe you don't. Maybe you can't.” Lana closed her briefcase. “You might find it interesting that when Callie met Ty, talked to him for a few minutes, she called him Ty-Rex. Just as you did.”

He blinked at her, and something moved behind his eyes that had nothing to do with temper. “So? He's talking dinosaurs, his name's Ty. It's an easy jump.”

“Maybe. Still interesting though. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“I don't think—”

“Uh-uh.” She shook her head, put her hand on the door. “A deal's a deal. Seven o'clock. Roger has my address.”

C
allie worked with Jake, wrapping exhumed bones in wet cloths and plastic to preserve them. They'd been photographed, sketched and logged. Tests would reveal more.

Other scientists, students, specialists would study them and learn.

She knew there were some who would see nothing but a
tibia or a humerus. Nothing but bones, remains and the dead. That was enough for them, knowledge taken was enough for them.

And she found no fault with that approach.

But it wasn't hers.

She wondered. And in her mind from a bone she could build a human being who had lived and died. Who'd had value.