Coming Home (19 page)

At first he’d been too shocked to do much more than stumble through a brief conversation with her…his…
their
son. Now the questions started hammering his brain. One in particular.

Why hadn't she told him the truth?

Judging by her reaction to what he'd told her about his meeting with her mother, Nicole hadn't known that Monica had lied to him about the miscarriage. There was no way she could have faked that. So why, earlier that afternoon when he'd spilled his guts, his pain, his sorrow to her, why hadn't she admitted the truth? It made no sense.

Unless….

A possibility began forming in the darkest recesses of his mind. A dark, ugly possibility. Hearing that he would fight for custody of any child of his, had she decided it wasn’t worth the risk? That it was better for him to never know than to risk having to share the boy?

He
would
fight. Now that he knew he had a son, he was not going to sit back and watch her whisk Justin right back out of his life. She'd take his child away over Wyatt's dead body.

And she knew it. God, she had realized it before he had. So she'd kept her mouth shut. She wasn't even planning to tell him. It was the only thing that made sense.

Wyatt didn’t know whether he felt more furious or more devastatingly hurt by the realization. Going with the fury, he clenched his jaw and crossed his arms tightly across his chest. Part of him wanted to confront her, to let her know he had figured out her plan. Part of him wanted to throw a few chairs through the front window. But near him stood their son, looking back and forth between the two adults in the room as if he sensed the tension rolling off them.

"How old are you Justin?" Wyatt finally asked as the boy moved across the room and plopped down on the sofa next to his mother.

"I turned ten in April."

Wyatt nodded, not at all surprised. He hadn't really needed the confirmation.

Walking across the room, he sat in a chair across from Justin. He tried to push a smile to his lips as he looked at the boy, but doubted anyone was fooled by it. Before he could think of a single thing to say, Maria came walking in from the kitchen.

"I thought I heard voices, but I was on the phone," the woman explained with a bright smile.

Wyatt looked up at her, wondering what she would make of Nicole's pained expression.

Maria paused. Wyatt saw her glance at Justin. Then she looked across at Wyatt. Her eyes darted back and forth and he saw the recognition cross her face. "Oh, my," she said softly.

A long moment of silence hung in the room. Wyatt wondered what Justin made of it, but he didn't say a word. "Come with me, Justin, I'll help you unpack your things," Maria finally said as she held her hand out toward him.

The boy stood up. “And then we’ll check on the cookies? I bet they’re cool by now.”

Maria smiled, explaining, “We made peanut butter chocolate chip.”

“My favorite,” Wyatt murmured.

“Mine too!” said Justin.

Then with another smile, he left the room, and Wyatt and Nicole were alone again.

Alone…and ready to have a conversation eleven years in the making.

Nicole watched Justin go, glad Maria had gotten him out of the room before Wyatt had the chance to explode. She could see the effort it took him to remain calm in spite of what he must see as her betrayal.

As soon as the others were gone, Wyatt stood and stalked to the fireplace. He put his hands on the mantle and leaned forward, dropping his head as he stared at the floor. She saw the tense muscles of his back straining against the cotton shirt and knew he was fighting an inward battle to remain calm.

Finally, he muttered, “Were you
ever
going to tell me?”

“Of course! Wyatt, it's not what you think..."

"The hell it's not," he retorted.

"Please, try to understand my position."

He turned slowly, searing her with the fury in his gaze. Nicole flinched. She saw something else in the depths of those green eyes. Disgust. No, it was more. It was hurt—bitter hurt—and possibly hatred. Wyatt hadn't hated her before, thinking she'd intentionally miscarried their baby, but he hated her now, when he thought she'd set out to keep his son a secret.

"Wyatt, I thought you knew. Up until this afternoon, I thought you knew Justin was your son and you just didn't care."

He gave a bitter laugh. "Even if that's true, it doesn't say very much for either of us, does it?" he bit out. "You slept with me, thinking I didn't give a damn we had a kid together, and I slept with you, thinking I didn't give a damn that you'd killed the baby we created. What a pathetic pair we are.”

“Please don’t,” she whispered.

He ignored her. “But you went a step further, didn't you? It wasn't bad enough that your mother stuck the knife in me eleven years ago. You twisted it nice and tight today, didn't you? With your silence."

She didn't reply. He slowly walked across the room toward her. "And don't think I don't know exactly why you kept your pretty mouth shut."

Nicole closed her eyes briefly, shrinking back from his fury. She heard the French doors to the living room creak open, and peered around to see who was entering, praying it was not Justin. She saw her father's face, pale, stricken, and in pain.

"Dad!" She jumped out of her seat and rushed to the weak, swaying man.

She saw pain in her father’s face as he said, “My fault.”

Wyatt walked over to take her father’s other arm, and the two of them led him to the couch. Nicole glanced toward the open doorway. It stood as they'd left it, barely open. She nearly turned away to close it, but her father clutched at her hand.

"You shouldn't be out of bed," Nicole insisted.

"My fault," he muttered again. “All of this is my fault.”

"No, it’s not," Wyatt insisted.

Josh held up a hand for silence. Nicole didn't like the glazed look in his eyes as he stared from her, to Wyatt, and back to her. Finally, he shook his head. "
You're
Justin's father. My God, how could I not have seen it? I've known you since you were a boy, and he's your mirror image. I just thought it was a family resemblance, that he took after your grandfather."

Nicole didn't understand what her father was talking about, and she wondered if his medication was causing him confusion. How could he not know Wyatt was Justin's father?

"Please, let us take you back upstairs,” she said.

"No," Josh insisted, brushing her hand off his arm. "No, I need to tell you this. Maria told me what she thought was going on. I couldn't believe it."

"Where is Justin?" Nicole asked, glancing toward the door.

"Maria's helping him unpack, then he was going to take a shower," Josh explained. "Nicole, come sit by me."

Nicole did as her father asked. He took her hands in. "Honey, I didn't understand. Back when you came to me and told me you were pregnant, I didn't ask any questions. To tell you the truth, I didn't want to know the details. I just assumed, it was natural for me to assume, that Brady...."

"You thought Brady was the father," Nicole said as she slowly began to understand how what had happened. She’d never told anyone she and Wyatt were dating. In her fear and confusion, she apparently hadn’t made sure her father knew exactly which Clayton cousin she was talking about when she’d told him she was pregnant.

He nodded. “Yes, I did.”

"And you went to my grandfather and told him that, and that's why he contacted Brady and not me," Wyatt said.

Again Josh nodded. Nicole leaned back on the couch and closed her eyes. She couldn't take it all in. All these years, all this misery, caused by not only her mother’s deceit, but by the smallest miscommunication.

The only sound she could hear was the ticking of the clock on the mantle and her father's slow, steady breaths. On the second floor, practically right above them in an upstairs bedroom, sat a young boy who had no idea who his father was. And across the room stood a man who'd missed out on some of the most precious years of his son's life. All because of a series of minor events which by themselves might have amounted to nothing.

Nicole glanced at Wyatt, standing near the front window. His whole body was tense. In spite of his anger toward her, Nicole wanted his comfort. More than anything she wanted to be able to find a quiet, safe spot and mourn together the loss of the years they might have had as a family, raising their child.

But she didn't have that luxury. Not right now. Somehow, they were going to have to figure out a way to make Justin understand all this. Easier said than done. How could she make a ten-year-old understand, when she couldn't really grasp it herself? And, of course, to make it worse, there was Wyatt's fury to deal with. He had construed her silence this afternoon as deception. He believed she wasn't going to tell him the truth. It would be difficult convincing him otherwise.

"I'm sorry, so sorry," Josh said. "I've cost you the family you were entitled to...both of you, all three of you. If it hadn't been for my mistake, you two would probably be raising Justin and possibly more children together."

Nicole squeezed her father's hand, then leaned forward to give him a gentle hug. Wyatt walked across the room, his harsh expression softening as he looked down at Josh. Suddenly, though, they all heard a noise and turned toward the partially open French doors. Thumps sounded on the wood floor of the hallway, and then they heard the back door slam shut.

Nicole and Wyatt raced out of the living room at once, with Josh close behind, and found Maria walking down the stairs. The woman looked at them quizzically as they stared up at her.

"Maria, where's Justin?" Wyatt asked.

A look of confusion crossed the woman's face, and she glanced back upstairs, over her shoulder. "I thought he was taking a shower. I was unpacking his things, and he said he was going to go get cleaned up."

Josh walked back into the foyer from the kitchen. He looked tired, as if he'd over-exerted himself. "He's gone,” he said. “I just saw him running into the woods. Justin's gone."

"We have to find him," Nicole said as she strode through the kitchen to the back door.

Wyatt fell into step beside her. "I'm going with you."

Her first instinct was to order everyone else to remain inside and let her find Justin alone. She didn't believe the boy would want to see anyone else just yet. If they'd been home, in Maryland, that's exactly what she would have done. But Justin was in a strange place, and had run into woods that concealed swampy areas, snakes and possibly alligators. She was more concerned about just finding him than she was about how to deal with what he'd heard.

"Maria and Josh can stay here and watch the woods to see if he comes back out," Wyatt said.

Nicole glanced toward her father, who leaned against the table. She didn't like the gray pallor in his cheeks. Nicole stared hard at Maria. The other woman got the silent message and immediately moved to Josh's side. After she helped him sit down, she said, "We'll be watching out the back window. If he comes back toward the house, we'll spot him right away."

Nicole saw her father's mouth open, as if he wanted to protest. But he kept silent. There was no way they were going to allow him to go tramping through the woods so soon after his release from the hospital.

As they left the house, Nicole sensed the tight rein Wyatt was keeping on his anger. But, for the moment, he seemed to shove it aside and concentrate on the task at hand—finding Justin.

Wyatt and Nicole quickly walked the twenty yards toward the thick wooded area behind her father's small empty barn. She heard rumblings in the distance, and saw heavy gray clouds approaching from the east. It was late afternoon, and the typical Florida thunderstorms appeared to be right on schedule. She hoped they found Justin and got him inside before the downpour started.

"We'll find him, Nicole. More importantly, we'll get him through this."

The thick palmetto scrub brush scratched at Nicole's bare legs as they entered the woods. Wyatt tried holding branches out of her way, but the underbrush was too thick. Nicole didn't care. There were broken branches and they could see where Justin had made his way through just minutes before. They called out, but the boy didn't answer.

"Poor kid," Wyatt muttered, and Nicole knew he was speaking more to himself than to her. "What a way to start a vacation."

"Right," she replied bitterly. "Finding out your entire life has been built on lies."

The woods thinned about forty feet in, and they reached a small creek. The banks on either side were clear of trees and it would have been easier for Justin to follow the creek in either direction rather than press on through the thick scrub on the other side. Nicole looked toward the left, then the right, but couldn't determine which way he might have gone.

"You go north, I'll head south," she said. Nicole turned to follow the stream, but stopped when Wyatt grabbed her hand.

"This changes everything, you know," he said as he stared down at her.

She nodded. "I know. We’ll have to figure out what to do."