Oceans Apart (35 page)

270

– Karen Kingsbury –

Son, I will never leave you nor forsake you . . . Return to Me.

Return to Me?
The call blew across his soul like a whispery summer breeze. The response to his misery hadn’t been his imagination. After all this time, after all he’d done wrong, God still cared.

He was still just a prayer away, waiting to make peace with Connor the moment Connor asked. A flashlight of joy shone into the moment’s dark despair. He blinked his eyes open and looked at Max.
God, he’s my own son; I love him. But if I lose him, it’s my fault.

He had a choice to make now, one that would mean keeping Max or keeping Michele. And even that choice could be blamed on no one but him. The quiet sobs simmering deep in his soul tried to get the better of him, but he pushed them back.

On the surface, the choice wasn’t difficult. He opened his eyes and looked at their wedding portrait once more. No, he’d made his choice a long time ago in a central California church before a hundred of their friends and families.

He would do whatever Michele wanted him to do, because he owed her that much. Without meaning to, he held Max a little tighter. He owed something to the son on his lap. But he owed Michele first. First and always.

He and Michele shared something rare and wonderful, something few couples ever know. It had been that way most of their lives together, even after his affair. It was the reason he never considered telling her the truth. Because after he was stationed in Florida again, after he came home from Los Angeles for good, things between Michele and him became better than they’d ever been.

He couldn’t imagine jeopardizing that by telling her what had happened. Besides, back then it had been easy to justify his actions, easy to tell himself he’d had no control over the situation, no other way to handle his frustrations than to give in to the temptation that stormy night.

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– Oceans Apart –

Now he knew he’d been wrong. The bond between them would’ve been stronger if he’d told the truth. Of course, they still would’ve faced the dilemma with Max, and his sudden arrival in their lives.

He kissed the boy’s head again, felt the soft dark hair against his cheek. No question he could keep the boy, love him and raise him, and revel the rest of his days in the fact that he had not only two wonderful daughters but a son. A boy to carry on his name.

But if losing Michele was the price he would pay, then he’d been right when he first sat down with Max. The decision was already made. He loved Michele with all his heart, all his being. His life was with her, and when she came home he would tell her how sorry he was, tell her he’d been wrong about everything involving that awful summer.

Then he would wait until Thursday, in case she had a change of mind. If not . . . he would call the attorney and tell him to contact the Hawaiian couple. Max would spend his days working in a bed-and-breakfast, keeping company with a couple he knew nothing about. And one day he’d be the operator of a bed-and-breakfast on the big island.

Pain sliced through Connor’s chest at the thought, and he knew why. The idea of Max growing up that way, of his son never knowing of his love, ripped Connor’s heart in half. Taking Max away from Connor now would be like cutting off his right arm. No, it would be worse.

But it would be nothing to losing Michele.

He thought about Max’s future again. By then, by the time he was grown and running the bed-and-breakfast, the memory of his mother’s friend in Florida, and the camping trip on the lake, and the fish, and the butterfly, would be but a distant fleeting thought.

And his desire to be part of the Evans family, his desire to call Connor his daddy, would have long since disappeared.

272

TWENTY-NINE

Michele flew home the next day, more because she missed the girls than because she’d figured out a solution for her life. Throughout two plane trips and the cab ride back home from the airport, she sorted out the details every way she knew how. By the time she walked through the front door, she was beyond drained.

The weather was more humid than when she’d left, and though she’d lost a few pounds at her sister’s house, she felt hot and frumpy and more than a little grouchy. She should have stayed at Margie’s until the boy was gone. That way she could come home with at least a good attitude, a sliver of hope that somehow she and Connor could find common ground again.

But of course she had to come home before the boy left. Because she had to see what had happened between him and Connor since she’d been gone. Not that it mattered; her decision was made, and if Connor wanted to make an attempt at their marriage, the boy would have to go home. But even after the child was gone, Connor would carry him in his heart. At least to the extent he carried him now.

And Michele had to see for herself just to what extent that was.

She set her bags down in the hallway and straightened out the wrinkles in her Capri pants. A quick glance in the mirror told her she’d picked the wrong shirt. This one showed the hint of a bulge on either side of her waist. She huffed and lifted the shirt enough to create a few bunches. Bunches hid bulges, any woman battling her weight knew that.

“Hello?” She called out and waited, but there was no response.

Then as her ears adjusted to the quiet of the house, she heard the sound of distant voices coming from the backyard.

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– Oceans Apart –

Dreading whatever she might see, she made her way to the glass door and stared outside. Connor was giving Susan a piggyback ride around the yard, while Elizabeth and the boy stood not far off, giggling and talking together. When Susan’s ride was finished, she jumped off and Elizabeth climbed on. Susan gave Max a quick hug and held his hands as they jumped up and down.

“Go, Daddy!” she yelled as she turned back to her father and sister. “Go faster!”

Michele watched, hidden in the shadows of the china cabinet, as Connor picked up speed and went twice more around the yard.

Then he dropped her off where the other two were standing and collapsed in a heap of laughter and weary legs. The kids piled onto him, poking him and tickling him, but after a few minutes, Elizabeth and Susan headed off toward the swings and seemed to forget about the piggyback rides.

Back with Connor, Max laid his head on the left side of Connor’s heart. Then just as fast, he lifted it and made a rhythmic motion with his head, all the while grinning the same grin she’d seen a thousand times on Connor’s face.

Michele felt her blood run cold. What was the boy doing? Listening to Connor’s heartbeat? And what had happened to the formalities, the distance the boy had kept even from Connor before she left?

Suddenly she realized the truth. She should’ve gone on the camping trip. She could’ve kept Connor busy, and Max would’ve had no choice but to spend his time with the girls. Instead, the girls must’ve spent much of their time playing together, and whenever that was the case, Max must’ve spent his time with Connor.

Of course they’d gotten close.

She kept her eyes trained on her husband and his son. Connor struggled to his feet, his motions exaggerated as though he was too weary to go another round. Max flung his arms around 274

– Karen Kingsbury –

Connor’s waist, looked up at him, and said something Michele couldn’t make out.

Then Connor lifted the boy into the air and spun him around.

When he set him back down, his arms came around Max’s shoulders and held the boy in an embrace that was no different from one Connor would’ve given to Elizabeth or Susan. Or maybe it was different. Maybe Connor held on a little bit longer to Max, aware of the fact that their time together was short.

Connor stooped down and kissed the boy on the top of his head, and just at that moment he caught Michele watching them. He said something to Max, and the boy nodded and ran off to join the girls.

Connor stood and faced her with a hopeful smile. His mouth opened and she could read the word “Hi” as he came closer.

She stepped back. Could she run away? The last thing she wanted was to talk to Connor now that she’d seen firsthand the love he felt for his son, the way the two of them—the way
all
of them—had connected. Anything she said was bound to sound cold and bitter and thoughtless.

But she had nowhere to run.

Connor slid the door opened, stepped inside, and closed it again.

“Hey, when did you get home?”

“Just now.” She took another small step backward, tried a smile, and let it die on her lips. “I missed the girls.”

“Oh.” The excitement in Connor’s eyes dimmed. He didn’t try to close the gap between them. “What about me?” She let her gaze fall to her feet for a moment before finding his eyes again. “Of course. I missed you, too.” He brought his lips together and exhaled in a sharp burst.

“Michele . . .” His eyes stared at something on the ceiling, and he ran his fingers through his short hair. When he looked at her, his eyes were deeper, more honest, than she’d ever seen them. “We need to talk.”

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“Okay.” She crossed her arms, her heart tense and unmoved within her. No matter how he looked, she knew what he was doing.

This was his attempt to change her mind, to convince her they could take the boy, after all. That she would grow to love him. But nothing he could say would make her see the boy as anything other than what he was.

The son of a woman who had slept with her husband.

Connor walked past her, and she followed him into the living room. He sat on one side of the sofa and motioned for her to sit beside him.

Every ounce of her wanted to refuse him, to take a chair on the other side of the room, but she wanted to be near him, wanted to hear what outlandish argument he was going to make about the boy.

Because of that she sat down next to him and turned to face him.

He watched her, and the look in his eyes told her that she seemed more a stranger than the wife he’d married. The look fell away, and he knit his brow together. He looked even more handsome than she remembered.

“Michele, there’s something I have to tell you. Something I should’ve said a long time ago.”

A war was taking place in her heart, half of her wanting to throw her arms around his neck and tell him whatever it was, they’d work through it, they’d find a way to survive and come out stronger on the other end.

But the other half was winning, the part that hated him for what he’d done to her and the girls.

“All right.” She kept her face free of expression. “What is it?” The lack of love in her voice took even her by surprise. Why was she talking to him like this? Hadn’t she missed him, hadn’t that been at least part of the reason why she had to get home? And couldn’t she simply have hugged him when he walked in from the yard, his face lit up at the sight of her?

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The answer to every question was a resounding no, because Connor didn’t even understand what he’d done. Couldn’t see past his desire for the boy long enough to realize what his unfaithfulness had cost her.

“You’re not making this easy.”

“You haven’t made it easy, either.”

He looked down for a moment, and she watched him work the muscles in his jaw. When he lifted his head again, the remorse was back. “Michele, what happened in Honolulu that August was my fault.” He rushed ahead as if she might stop him. “It was my fault that I wasn’t seeing you as often as I should, and my fault that I was in trouble with the FAA, my fault that I agreed to spend a stormy summer night at the house of a flight attendant I didn’t even know, and my fault the situation resulted in an affair.” Michele stared at her husband and felt her mouth fall open a bit.

She couldn’t remember Connor ever saying those words, “It’s my fault.” She bit the inside of her cheek and waited.

“It’s all my fault, and I want to ask your forgiveness.” He ran his tongue along his lower lip and searched her face, desperate for some kind of response. “I should’ve told you the truth when I came home from Los Angeles, but I told myself it was one of those things, something I couldn’t have helped. I thought it would be easier on both of us if you never knew.”

“Yeah, well, you thought wrong.” The acid reply was out before Michele could stop it.

Connor jerked back the slightest bit and stared at her. “I know.” His face was a study in control, his tone less desperate than before.

“That’s why I’m telling you this.” He sat back. “What I’m trying to say is, everything that happened is because of me. But since I found out about Max, all I’ve done is think about myself and how much I owe that child, how much I owe—”

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– Oceans Apart –

“What?”
The word was a shriek, a cry that came from the most wounded part of her heart. She pointed toward the backyard.

“How much you owe
him?”

An exasperated huff slid through Connor’s clenched teeth. “Not just him, you didn’t let me finish.” He shielded his eyes with his right hand for a moment, and then snapped it back to his side.