Snowfall on Haven Point (14 page)

She had complete sympathy for him. When she sprained her ankle earlier in the summer, she had been astonished at how difficult every single thing became, from grocery shopping to fixing her hair to going out to the mailbox.

She walked slowly, matching her pace to his. When they finally reached her SUV, that mouth was set even tighter, with lines radiating out. She shifted the box to one hand so she could open the passenger door for him, then quickly set the files and the laptop bag in the backseat while he maneuvered his way inside.

While she knew it was dangerous to spend more time with him, she also sensed he wasn't eager to return to the enclosed space of his home. Fresh air and sunshine could only be beneficial.

“Why don't we grab a bite to eat while we're out?” she suggested after starting the engine but before she backed out of the parking space. “We can grab something to-go here in Shelter Springs and then have lunch at one of the scenic pullouts between here and Haven Point, overlooking the lake and the Redemptions.”

He looked startled at the suggestion but quickly warmed to it. “That sounds really nice, actually.”

“Any favorite places in Shelter Springs? I'll admit, I'm not very familiar with the culinary offerings.”

He mulled the question for only a moment. “There's a great sandwich shop a couple blocks from here. Ali's. He's a fresh sandwich genius and he has a drive-up window. I usually stop at least once or twice a week.”

“That sounds perfect. Just tell me how to get there.”

After he pointed her in the right direction, she pulled up to the window. Ali himself took their order and greeted Marshall like an old friend.

“What happened to you, Sheriff?” he exclaimed across Andie when he spotted the crutches and the orthopedic boot. His friendly, weathered face wrinkled with concern.

“It's a long story. Once I'm back at work, I'll try to stop in and tell you all about it.”

“At least you've got a beautiful woman to take care of you, right? Hello, my new friend. I'm Ali Bhattacharya.”

Andie was completely charmed by the man, who looked to be in his early seventies. “Hello, Mr. Bhattacharya.”

“My new friends call me Ali. Or darling. Whatever you prefer.”

“Stop flirting, Ali,” Marshall growled. “We just need a couple of sandwiches.”

“Always so serious, this one. No time for fun
or
beautiful women. Fine. What do you want?”

“I'll have a club with your spicy mayo and a water.” He turned to her. “What about you?”

“Turkey. No cheese. Also water.”

“You got it. Two minutes flat.”

Mr. Bhattacharya bustled away and returned in the promised time with two bags overflowing with food. “Here you go. I threw in some of the orange nankhatai biscuits my friend the sheriff likes.”

“Thank you,” she said. She tried to hand him her debit card, but he shook his head.

“No, no. On the house.”

“You know I can't take free food from you, Ali,” Marshall said. “It's against department rules.”

“You did not take any free food. It is a gift for your beautiful woman, as I am sure she has earned it and more, having to take care of a grouch like you.”

Andie couldn't help but laugh. “He obviously knows you well,” she said. “Thank you for the lunch,” she added to Ali. “I will pay you twice the next time.”

The man's booming laugh followed them as she pulled forward and out of the drive-up.

“That was fun.”

“Ali is a character,” Marshall said. “He came to Shelter Springs twenty years ago after his wife and only son died in a car accident in India and has been here ever since. He's always been very kind to everyone at the sheriff's department.”

She had a feeling by their brief interaction that the man was particularly fond of Marshall.

“Where would you like to eat?” she asked.

“Your idea of one of the lakeside pullouts was a good one.”

Traffic in Shelter Springs was light as she drove through town on the way back to Haven Point. Not long after, she found the perfect spot, a picnic area with a lovely view. The road crew had cleared the snow off the small stretch of pavement, though Lake Haven in the wintertime wasn't exactly picnic-friendly.

She parked overlooking the lake and for a moment she simply enjoyed the view.

Lake Haven was beautiful in the summer, when the evergreen forests were green and lush, but the winter was simply stunning, especially the vivid contrast between the lake's unearthly blue and the sparkling white of the new snow.

They ate in silence in the car for a moment, both absorbed by the food and the peaceful surroundings.

“You're right. Ali is a genius. This is delicious.”

“I was more hungry than I realized.”

She had to smile at that. “You sound like Will. He'll insist he's not hungry, that he couldn't eat a bite, but as soon as I put food in front of him, he wolfs it down like he hasn't had a meal in days.”

“He's a funny kid.”

“I think so.”

He took another bite and washed it down with his water. “This was a good idea. Lunch with a view, I mean.”

“I'm glad. Anytime you need to go for a drive, let me know. Even fifteen or twenty minutes can give your spirits a lift.”

“That's kind of you to offer, but I'm sure you've got enough to do, with Christmas just around the corner.”

The sunshine beamed in through the windshield and she fought the urge to stretch out in it like their shy new cat. “Not really. I will still have to wrap the few things I bought today, but other than that, everything's basically done. It had better be, since I started in September.”

“You really get into this whole holiday thing, don't you? The presents, the decorating, the baking. All of it.”

She shrugged, a little embarrassed “I just want my children to enjoy the magic, especially this year in a new house and new town. The last few haven't been the greatest, so I vowed this year I would give them the joy-filled, meaningful Christmas I always wanted, no matter what.”

He looked out at the water. “I guess that's what makes good parents,” he said after a moment. “You have to be willing to sacrifice whatever it takes to do what's best for your children.”

She thought she heard a low undertone of sadness in his voice, just a hint, but it was enough for her to take a closer look. In profile, his features were hard, set, his mouth a firm line. She had noticed that reaction before when they talked about children and she wondered at it.

“The challenge is figuring out what that is. What's best for your children, I mean. And our idea of what's best for them isn't always what they want or need.”

His jaw tightened. “How do you figure it out? How do you make those tough calls, especially when what
you
might want and what they might
need
aren't the same thing?”

It seemed an odd question from a single man with no family, but the intensity of it warranted an honest answer.

“The moment I gave birth to Chloe, what I wanted in the moment no longer mattered. It couldn't be the driving force of my life any longer. She was. She became the most important thing, then Will after her. Every choice I make as a parent, I have to ask myself if this will help them grow up to be kind, compassionate, decent human beings who contribute to society.”

“No pressure, right?”

“Parenting is all about pressure—and most of the time I feel like I'm making things up as I go along.”

He seemed to absorb that and grew pensive again, gazing once more at the water and a small flock of Canada geese skimming past.

Vague impressions she had gathered throughout the last week seemed to coalesce in her mind as she sifted through his words.

She decided to take a wild guess that still somehow seemed right on the mark. “Is your child a boy or a girl?” she asked.

Marshall swiveled to stare at her, his mouth agape and shock flaring in blue eyes that appeared the same shade as that stunning lake.

“
What?
Why would you ask that?”

He didn't immediately tell her he had neither, she couldn't help but notice. “It was just a guess. I'm right, though, aren't I?”

He turned back to the water, his features stony. She could feel the tension rippling off him just like the water behind that small group of geese and regret pinched at her.

On impulse, she reached out and touched his arm, a gesture of apology and comfort. “You don't have to answer. I'm sorry. That was intrusive and rude.”

His gaze shifted to her hand on the arm of his blazer. When he looked up, his eyes were murky with turmoil. Indecision? Regret? She couldn't tell.

“I have a son,” he finally said, his voice hesitant. “He's thirteen now and has no idea I'm his father.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

S
HE
HELD
HER
BREATH
, struck by not only his words but the pain she clearly sensed behind them.

He had a son. Thirteen years old.

A son who didn't know Marshall was his father. He was a serious man who took his responsibilities very seriously. He took cold cases home with him to study while on sick leave for a broken leg! She couldn't imagine that he would have refused to take responsibility for a child.

“How long have you known about your...son? Did his mother not tell you she was pregnant?” It was the only explanation that made sense.

He had the distinct look of a man who regretted opening his mouth. “I wish I could take that easy way out. I knew. She—the mother—contacted me when she was six months along and told me about the baby but claimed she didn't think it was mine. In the same breath she asked me to sign away all paternal rights, just in case.

“And you agreed?”

He flashed her a look as if searching for condemnation, but she purposely kept her features as bland as her voice.

She wasn't naive or stupid. She knew about extenuating circumstances, about one-night stands and relationships that didn't work out.

At the same time, she had been a child of a single mother, never given the chance to know anything about her own father. A little corner of her heart would always ache from the loss.

“I didn't want to. I refused the first and second time. We could wait until a DNA test to make any decisions, I said.”

“You didn't wait?”

He sighed. “It felt like an impossible situation. I was twenty-one years old and deployed in Iraq. All the communication between us was via email when I could manage it and a few hurried satellite phone conversations. She happened to be a few weeks away from marrying a man who thought the baby was
his
. Apparently they were engaged when we were...together, which I swear I didn't know. She thought the baby was his, too, but if there was a chance, even a slim one, she wanted me to sign away any future rights before they were married. She wanted everything neat and clean. That's just how she was.”

If the woman wanted neat and clean, maybe she shouldn't have slept with one man when she was engaged to another, Andie thought caustically.

“She didn't come out and say it, but I knew she didn't want me showing up one day after I got back to the States and messing up her happy little family.”

What kind of woman would pressure a man serving his country in dangerous conditions to give up rights to a child he might have helped create?

“She and I, uh, didn't really have a relationship. Just a quick fling. I was stationed in San Diego and a couple buddies and I went out one night. In one of those weird coincidences, I happened to bump into her at a bar. She was from Lake Haven, though several years older than me. I'll admit, I was a little homesick and nervous about shipping out and we just...hooked up for a crazy long weekend. It wasn't anything serious and we both knew it. Hell, it obviously wasn't serious, since she never got around to telling me about her rich, important fiancé until six months later.”

Andie was beginning to seriously dislike the woman.

“I figured I'd never see her again, you know? Unless we happened to bump into each other at Lake Haven Days, anyway.”

“And then she found out she was pregnant.”

“Right. Her fiancé apparently was thrilled because he and his first wife had infertility issues. He'd been told, uh, that he didn't have very strong swimmers.”

“And that's why the woman felt she needed to have you sign away rights.”

“Right. Just in case. It was a tough decision. Tougher than I might have expected.” The lines around his mouth seemed to deepen. “But what did I have to offer a kid right then? I still felt like a kid myself, in a lot of ways. I was twenty-one, single and halfway across the world. The guy she was marrying had money and lots of it. He was older and had already raised a couple of adopted kids. I figured my son—she knew it was a boy by then—needed parents who were married and stable, not some military police officer living paycheck to paycheck. He was probably much better at being a dad than I could be anyway.”

She had to disagree on that point. She had seen his patience with her children and thought he had the potential to be an excellent father, given the chance.

“I still refused the first few times. I just couldn't bring myself to do it. She kept after me and I finally decided I didn't have much choice. The chance that the baby could be mine anyway didn't seem very compelling, so I figured, why not.”

He watched the Canada geese take flight in a rush, their wings brushing the water with their takeoff. “Worst decision of my life.”

His voice was thick, raw, and the pain in it made her chest ache.

“Why do you say that?”

“Three years later, the two of them were divorced. I didn't know until recently that she spent the last decade hopping from guy to guy, neglecting the child I threw away, until she died earlier this year.”

“Oh no.”

“Right. Meanwhile, the man my son thinks was his father basically abandoned him after the divorce. I don't know, maybe the guy suspected the kid wasn't his, but as a result, my son is now left with no one.”

She frowned as the story seemed to ring oddly familiar. Her mind tried to sort through the bits and pieces, but she couldn't figure out quite why.

“The poor boy. Can you step up now and be a father to him?”

“How? I have no legal rights and the only proof I have that we were together is the document she had me sign. He has no idea I even exist and I can't figure out how to approach his gra—guardians.”

He stumbled over the last word and as she caught his slip and tried to make sense of it, all those stray pieces clicked into place. Of course! She leaned back in her seat, the rest of her lunch completely forgotten as she tried to absorb the stunning truth.

So much of his behavior made sense now and she couldn't believe she hadn't seen it before. She released a breath and spoke before she really thought through the implications.

“Christopher Page is your son.”

* * *

H
ER
WORDS
SEEMED
to echo through the SUV, bouncing off the roof, the windows, the floor mats.

Christopher Page is your son.

For so many years he had held the secret close, knowing he might have a son out there somewhere but trying not to think too often about it.

It felt so strange to hear someone else say it aloud for the first time ever.

Over those years, he had still hung on to the idea that the baby couldn't have been his. He and Nikki Jacobs Page spent one wild weekend together and had used protection.

A few years earlier, on a whim, he had tried to look her up on social media. It hadn't been easy—which he found out later was probably because she married twice more and changed her name multiple times.

Louise Jacobs had been his ticket in. When Louise finally joined social media and became friends with his mother, he had been able to slip through the back door to track Nikki from his mother's page to her mother's to her own social media profile.

What he found had made him sick. More than a decade after that wild weekend they spent together, Nikki Jacobs Page Alexander Guyman had seemed as immature and self-absorbed as ever. She hadn't posted a single picture of her son and rarely mentioned him.

And then about a year ago, Louise had put up a picture of her grandson and his heart had stopped.

Christopher Page is your son.

He stared at Andrea now, not sure how to respond.

“Who said anything about Christopher?” he finally said, stalling for time.

Her sideways look told him plainly not to bother dissembling. “It wasn't very tough to connect the dots. His grandmother is my good friend. I know his mother died this summer and he fits the age frame you're talking about. His parents were divorced when he was young and Louise told me his father has nothing to do with him.”

She paused, her gaze sharpening. “Christopher is the reason you moved to Haven Point from Shelter Springs after Wyn left for school, isn't he?”

There was no point in denying it when he had done everything but draw her a picture. He didn't want the whole world to know—the boy in question didn't even know—but he sensed he could count on Andrea to be discreet.

In some little corner of his mind, he was actually relieved that someone else knew the truth. He didn't have to carry this secret by himself any longer.

She didn't seem condemning or judgmental, only concerned. That was almost more of a relief.

“When Wyn told me she was going to rent her house out while she was in Boise working on her master's, I knew I couldn't pass up the chance to move into the house next door to him. It seemed the perfect opportunity to make a connection.”

“Have you?”

“So far it hasn't worked out the way I planned. I don't quite know how to barge in and say,
Hey, guess, what? I'm your father.
”

“You seem so sure of that. How can you be, without a DNA test?”

“Except for the dark hair, he's the spitting image of Wynona's twin, Wyatt, who died five years ago. To tell you the truth, I can't believe no one else in my family has picked up on it yet, now that Christopher is living in Haven Point. I guess everyone has been too busy planning weddings to notice.”

He couldn't imagine what his mother would say when the truth came out. Would she be understanding of the choices he had made or would she be disappointed in him for not initially stepping up to take responsibility for his child?

“You've been living beside them for months and you still haven't told them?”

“He's so angry and hurting right now. At this point, I'm not sure how he will react when he finds out about one more person who walked away from him.”

“You're here now, though, unlike his mother and the man he thinks is his father. You moved to Haven Point to be closer to him. That ought to give you a few points.”

“Or tip the scale toward creepy stalker.”

She smiled a little and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Sunlight danced in and out of the tree branches. As he watched the random play of light on her features, he felt a little jolt in his chest.

“I think you should tell Herm and Louise first and let them work with you to figure out how best to let Christopher know the truth.”

He instinctively rejected that idea. “No. Not yet. They have enough to deal with right now without me throwing another complication at them.”

“I can't agree. You must know how they're struggling to reach him. They would probably welcome all the help they can find.”

Not his help. What would the boy gain from the unexpected appearance in his life of a father who showed up out of the blue, one who had never claimed to even like kids? “I doubt Christopher will be thrilled to find out the father who signed away all rights to him just happens to be the sheriff of Lake Haven County.”

“You don't know that,” she argued. “I really think you should tell Louise and Herm.”

“I don't want him to know yet. This is my decision. My problem. I'll deal with it in my own way.”

“When? Christopher moved here in August and you haven't done anything yet.”

The reminder of his own inaction gnawed at him. He could give a hundred excuses. The trouble in the ranks at work. His own guilt over signing away his rights, coupled with his natural caution. Christopher's obvious unhappiness, living in Haven Point.

“I do not want him to know yet. I have to ask you not to say anything.”

She looked offended. “Of course I won't.”

Despite her words, he could picture her thinking, in some misguided way, that she was doing the right thing by telling Louise or Christopher. Ali's delicious sandwich seemed to congeal in his gut.

“I gave in and let you help me after the accident because I didn't have a choice,” he said curtly. “I let you bring food and decorate my tree and fuss over me like I'm five years old.”

“I have not,” she said, looking offended.

“I never wanted you pushing your way into my life, but you did it anyway. I told you I would talk to his grandparents about shoveling and you went ahead and did that, too. Don't get it into your head you can do the same thing where Christopher is concerned. I need you to stand down. This is my problem and I have to deal with it my own way.”

She stiffened, hurt flaring in her eyes before she looked away from him.

“Your call, Sheriff.” Her voice was stiff, cool, and he instantly wanted to apologize. “Are you finished?”

What else did she want him to say? “For now.”

“I meant with your lunch, so I can take you home.”

Now he felt like an ass
and
stupid, too. “Yeah. I'm done.”

She stuffed the remains of her sandwich—most of it uneaten—into one of the bags Ali had given them, then pulled back onto the road without another word.

The rest of the way, she drove in silence, her features remote. He didn't know what to say. He wasn't wrong, but perhaps he could have worded things a little more diplomatically.

Why did she always bring out the worst in him? he wondered as she drove around the lake. He could pinpoint at least part of the reason—he was fiercely attracted to her and the futility of it left him sour and out of sorts.

Most women liked him. He could even be charming when he set his mind to it.

With Andie he had been cranky and sour, like a dyspeptic old man with gout.

She hadn't done anything to deserve it—rather, she had been nothing but kind to him, even though she had never wanted to help him in the first place. She had just spent two hours chauffeuring him to Shelter Springs and back, and instead of showing his appreciation, he repaid her by lashing out and basically accusing her of being a busybody.