Another Woman's Son (Harlequin Romance) (6 page)

“Did you accuse him of cheating?”

“I asked suspicious questions once or twice, but I always hoped I was wrong.” She set the first plate in one of the boxes. “I thought I was supposed to be questioning you.”

He peeled another top sheet off a section and pushed the rest to her. “Faith thought I worked too much.” He looked at Tony, who’d crawled to the runner in the hall and begun to bang on the rug between smacks on his homemade drum. “I worked longer hours after I started to dread coming home.”

“Dread?” Isabel wrapped a salad plate. “Faith never told me.”

“I’m guessing Will heard about it.” He shrugged as if the thought didn’t hurt either of them and then he reached for a salad bowl. “She said she wanted more, that she was bored, alone with Tony all day, no one to talk to. Even you had volunteer work.”

“Even I,” Isabel said. “As if I was a kindred bored spirit.”

“Weren’t you?”

“My best times were playing with Tony and Faith. But I kept busy. You know how volunteer committees operate. The wives of the really important men are in charge. I was a gofer—which Will never understood.”

“Neither did Faith. She refused to be anyone’s lackey, as she put it, and she didn’t want to leave Tony long enough to take what she called a ‘real’ job.”

“She said that?”

“She had a degree. I suggested work might keep her from being so bored.”

“Why do guys always try to solve your problems with advice?” He looked mystified, as if he’d done his best. It wasn’t his fault advice was rarely what a woman wanted from her husband. “Did she tell you what was wrong?”

“Never. More than a year ago, I realized she’d withdrawn, but she insisted she only wanted Tony and his dad.” His voice broke. “I couldn’t bring her back, and I never expected Tony’s dad was my friend.”

His voice, dripping in pain, froze Isabel. She clutched a plate in one hand and crumpled a piece of newspaper in the other. Her sister had been cruel.

“Her problem was with me,” Ben said. “If I’d been the man she needed, she wouldn’t have turned to Will for more.”

“I’m speechless.” She couldn’t look at him. “First, we’re on shaky ground because I don’t want to know more bad stuff about my sister or my lousy husband. Second, I don’t think we should blame ourselves because neither one of them was honest or honorable.”

“Will finally told you.”

“Because I gave him an ultimatum.” Had she brought down her marriage with an emotional challenge? “I said I wanted a baby or it was time to move on.”

His surprise startled her. “Did you mean that?”

“I don’t enjoy making myself sound manipulative, but I was pretty desperate.” She swathed another plate in paper. “You can see why I’m cured of lying or game-playing.” She gave him a look that was pure warning. Then she looked at Tony, happily beating the daylights out of her rug.

“He’s my priority,” Ben said. “All I care about is keeping him.”

She didn’t blame him, but she didn’t know him, either. Isabel had seen him as her friend and Faith’s husband. As she looked at him now, he was a large, tough man with dark hair that seemed to erupt from his head in curls. His eyes, dark blue and turbulent, made him seem dangerous.

He folded newspaper around a bowl, his fingers wide and more than capable. Long fingers, lightly veined. Sparse hair on his forearms.

Isabel’s heart began a beat that kept up with To
ny’s recital. She breathed in a scent that wasn’t newspaper or box or herself or the house.

Spice and musk and male.

Ben.

She hid a quickened breath. Had she stepped on shaky ground? She might be dancing on the edge of a cliff.

“S
IDE
, D
AD
.” Tony pointed at the door with his big spoon. “Side,
pease.
”

“You should take him out,” Isabel said with dubious enthusiasm. “He’s been a patient guy.”

Ben’s neck muscles relaxed. After an hour, she’d finally spoken. He still didn’t know how he’d silenced her. Maybe she needed a break from him and his son.

He was an honest man. Isabel loved spending time with Tony. He was the one who made her uncomfortable.

“We’ll check your mail for you,” he said. “Without the stroller, that’s about as far as Tony can make it.” Her mail was delivered to a brick box that contained locked slots for everyone on her street. Set like a stanchion at the far end of the road that curved into her driveway, it was a long walk for a small boy.

“Cool.” Isabel was too eager to see them go. “Let me get you the key.”

While he helped Tony back into his coat and mittens, Isabel went for her bag. She came back with
it, and her search turned up the mailbox key. She handed it to Tony, but he immediately lifted it for a taste, and she had to take it back. “Sorry.” Her self-conscious smile made her look more vulnerable than she’d wish. “I forgot.”

“Everything goes in the mouth first.” He said it by rote. Fathers always said that, but the thought troubling him was how much he’d like to thumb a smudge of dust off her cheekbone.

He’d been lonely for so long, unsure why his wife no longer loved him. And now he’d tricked Isabel into staying in his home so he would know the second she decided to tell her parents the truth about his son. Instead of respecting her and feeling sorry for treating her like an adversary, his loneliness had given him inappropriate feelings for her.

Isabel turned back to the sideboard to move the last of the china to the table. “I’ll order more boxes while you’re gone.” She paused to pull Tony against her leg. “Not that I assume you guys are always going to help me. Mom and Dad won’t be willing to let this little one out of their sight for long.”

Tony gave her a big smooch and she kissed his cheek with all the noise she could muster.

“Spending more time with him might help your mom,” Ben said.

Isabel stopped midway between the sideboard and the table. “You’re a good man.”

“Huh?” Guilt made him sweat. Was it such a
bad thing, always fearing she’d give away his worst secret?

She set her dishes on the table and then touched his forearm. He felt her hand as he never had before. The weight and the warmth and his uncomfortable awareness of it.

“You could do what Faith and Will tried to do. Run away. I’m the only person who knows enough to stop you, but you talked me into staying. You may not want my mother and father to know about Will’s real connection to Tony, but you understand that they need their grandson and he needs them.”

“That’s a sweet speech, but I feel obliged to point out I’m trying to act normal. Your parents would guess something was up if I disappeared.”

She moved as if he’d hurt her. For that, he was sorry. She’d been upset enough, but Tony came first with him, and she shouldn’t talk herself into believing anything else.

“Come on, buddy.” He swung his son into his arms. “Let’s go outside and get mail.”

The cold worked wonders. He could almost forget Isabel and the conflicting emotions she caused him. Tony had so many things to investigate, Ben had to trot to keep up. They ran to the end of Isabel’s driveway, stopping so Tony could sniff the frozen plants.

“Mmm,” he said over and over. Then he pointed for his dad to have a sniff, too.

They didn’t smell like a thing, but Ben said “Mmm,” too. Then he caught his son’s hand and they rounded the fence at the end of the driveway.

Tony tried to lope down the sidewalk, but Ben held him to a pace that kept him from darting into the light traffic. At one house, Tony leaned against the fence. “Woof,” he shouted with toddler exuberance. “Woof!”

A dog that couldn’t be as big as Tony yapped in response from the other side. Tony doubled over with laughter and woofed again, poking at his hood to push it off his face.

Ben scooped him up. “Want to see the doggy?” He held his son above the fence, and the dog barked like crazy. Tony answered with shrill barks of his own until Ben pulled him back. “We’d better get out of here before the doggy’s owner looks for us.”

They hurried down the sidewalk until Tony stopped again to peer through a closed wrought-iron gate, yelling “Kit-cat.”

Ben stared down at his son. “I don’t see a kitty, bud.”

“Kit-cat,” his boy said again, fully expecting one to materialize.

“Tony, I’m so glad to see you.”

The woman’s voice startled Ben. He turned as a tall, gray-eyed, steel-haired woman crossed the street from her own driveway.

“Hello.” She held out her hand. “You must be
Tony’s dad. I was so sorry to hear about your wife and Mr. Barker.”

“Thank you,” Ben said. “You know my son?”

“I saw him with Faith all the time.” She offered Tony a lollipop from her pocket. “Oh, do you mind? Faith always let me give them to him.”

“That’s fine.” A slow burn started in his gut. While he’d been at work, Faith had spent time here—with Will—who’d clearly changed his business hours to suit her. “I’m Ben.”

“Marie.” She introduced herself. “Tony and I are old friends. He and Faith helped me trim my roses this year. I know she was a great comfort to Mr. Barker after he and his wife split.”

“We were all friends.” Ben didn’t want to hear any more. He suddenly realized that visiting the plants, the dog, even the kit-cat had become Tony’s habit when he and Faith had come to Isabel’s— Will’s—house. He should have assumed Faith would have been coming here while he worked.

“I’ll miss your beautiful wife.” Marie took his hand again. “As I’ve missed Isabel. You tell her to stop by before she leaves again. I assume you’ve come with her?”

He nodded. The woman pounded his shoulder as if she were a coach and he were a failing member of her team.

“You’ll see, Ben. Life will brighten up again if you give yourself time to heal.”

He tried to smile, but his mouth only twitched. A man who’d run headfirst into a brick wall of betrayal appreciated the thought, but could have done without the platitude.

Tony tucked the woman’s lolly into his coat pocket, his hands moving slowly because of his thick mittens. Faith must have trained him to save them for later, after he wasn’t running outside.

He took off down the sidewalk on short legs that nevertheless took him swiftly away from his father. “See you later, Marie.” Ben hurried after his child.

Tony directed Ben in the proper procedure for checking Isabel’s mail. Ben opened the metal box and Tony tugged the pile of letters and magazines out. He dropped half the letters and then he helped Ben pick them up. At last they headed back, no stops this time, to deliver the mail.

All the while, Ben felt as if there were holes in him. Isabel had said he didn’t sound like himself. He wasn’t acting like himself, either. He nodded at Tony’s jabbering and smiled when his son required it, but memories of Faith kicked him in the head. And his strange reaction to Isabel only added to the bruises.

She’d been his friend. Nothing more. He wasn’t a man who’d ever cheated on his wife. He’d never lied to Faith. He’d loved her once, respected her, believed she and Tony were his future.

By the time he and Tony reached Isabel’s door, he
was fighting angry tears no man would let himself cry.

“Weel?” Tony asked for his uncle as Ben turned the doorknob.

Ben cringed. Naturally, Tony missed Will, but the other man’s name on his son’s lips terrified Ben. At any moment, if Isabel chose her parents over him, Amelia and George could tear Tony out of his arms, and he might have no recourse.

“Sorry, buddy.” Ben lifted him as he opened the door and then shut it and turned the lock. “Will’s not here.”

“Mom?” Isabel came out of the dining room, her cell phone to her ear. “You’re making a brisket?” She smiled at Tony but looked mystified. “You only ate breakfast a couple of hours ago.” Her mother’s grief-fueled vitality confused her. “What?” Her surprise stopped him. “A letter came,” she said, her voice fading. “From Will? No, don’t open it. I don’t want to hear—”

The phone hit the floor.

B
EN SET
T
ONY DOWN
and then hurried to Isabel’s side. She leaned into him, instinct making them close again. He’d never seen her willingly lean on anyone. Not even Will.

“My mom.” She pointed her finger at the floor. She was shaking head to toe. He held on while he picked up the phone.

“Amelia?” he said.

“Ben, what’s wrong with Isabel?” Amelia sounded terrified.

“Nothing,” he said. “She dropped the phone.”

Isabel covered the phone’s speaker. “I gave my office your address because I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get inside this house.”

“But how did Will get the Middleburg address?”

She tugged his arm, impatience in her clenched fingers. “I gave it to him. I expected divorce papers.” She said “divorce” matter-of-factly, but her panic was contagious. “We have to stop my mom from reading that letter. He may have said something about Tony.”

He searched for his son, who’d returned to the drum.

“Give me the phone, Ben. She’ll open it.”

“Isabel says to just put the letter in the guest room, Amelia. She’ll read it when she gets back.”

Isabel waited. Her mother’s voice was loud enough to hear. “If you’re sure.”

“Thanks, Amelia.”

“Will you be home soon? Tony loves brisket, doesn’t he?”

“I don’t know.” Faith would have known. She might have been right about his inattention. But he’d learn everything about his boy from now on. “I’ll bring him right now.” He had to make sure she didn’t open that letter.

Isabel squeezed his arm again. She mouthed the word
thanks
. Then she brushed her jeans and sweater, dragging her composure back on like clothing. He held out the phone, but she shook her head.

Tony dropped his drum, but advanced upon the dining room, with his big spoon at the ready. “We’ll be on our way soon, Amelia.”

“Okay.”

He turned the phone off. Isabel rubbed her sleeve, but she no longer looked as grateful. “Sorry,” she said. “I won’t fall apart again.”

“Forget it. I’ll be right back. Tony’s probably on the verge of playing with a priceless gravy boat.”

“He can break it all. Why would Will send me a letter? I already knew too much about him and Faith.”

“Maybe it is the divorce papers.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “That’s probably it. Funny how much I don’t want to see them.”

“Don’t assume, Isabel. Will’s surprised us before.” Torn between her and his son, he had only one choice. “Let me get Tony.”

He raced into the dining room and caught his boy just as Tony was reaching for one of the cardboard boxes. “Hold on there.”

Tony complained and reached again, but Ben returned him to the hall where his drum was, just as Isabel was pushing both hands into the small of her back.

Ben wished he could help her, but one thing he’d already learned—they had to do their grieving and surviving alone. He moved all the boxes to safer heights in the dining room.

Isabel had moved to the door when he came back. “You should go,” she said. “Mom will wonder what’s taking so long.”

“I don’t like leaving you.”

“I dressed Tony in his coat and hat.”

“Why are you angry, Isabel? I didn’t mean to take over. I just…”

“Thought I needed help.” Her head came up. She clenched her fists. “I want you to go, and I’ll handle my own problems from now on.”

“We’re in this together, helping each other.”

“You can’t help me get over Will, and I can’t help
you with your feelings for Faith.” She glanced at Tony as if she’d rather he didn’t hear. “That letter is probably one more lie—nothing to lose sleep over.”

What kind of idiot had Will been to throw away such a woman? Fierce, loyal, strong. Qualities neither Faith nor Will had valued.

Ben stared at Isabel and she stared back, loneliness passing between them on a river of unspoken hurt.

Tony began to cry. “Mommy?”

His broken entreaty hurt more than anything so far. Ben lifted his child, who needed him more than any woman would again. Tucking Tony’s head beneath his chin, Ben reached for the door. “Call if you need anything. Otherwise, we’ll see you at home later.”

She nodded. This was the one moment they should help each other.

“What do you want now, Isabel?”

She obviously wanted him to go. “I don’t know.” She straightened Tony’s mitten. “I don’t like feeling you and I have changed toward each other.”

“It was that phone call. You’re not used to having someone protect you.”

“I don’t need protection.”

She dropped her hands to her sides, unnaturally stiff. He searched himself for compassion. Her pain went as deep as his. “You’re my friend,” he said, “like it or not. Our lives are tangled up together.”

For the first time, comforting her mattered more than keeping her from telling her parents the truth about Tony.

I
SABEL LOST
all interest in clearing the house after Ben and Tony left. She closed the door behind them and slid to the floor. She didn’t know how long she sat there, back to the wall.

Will had written a letter. Or sent her a letter some attorney might have written for him. Who knew what it meant or why the idea of a divorce should still hurt. She’d fallen out of love with Will—maybe even as far back as that first affair. But she’d promised him a second chance and she’d tried as hard as she could.

Not hard enough or he wouldn’t have turned to her sister.

Finally the arguments in her head subsided enough to let in a little silence. She stood up and found her purse and coat. Late afternoon was trying to turn into dusk as she followed slow traffic through the snow, back to Ben’s.

Her father greeted her at the door with flour dotting the edge of his glasses. Good smells swam around him—fresh bread and the rich tang of a fulsome soup. Her mom had taught Faith how to make a home, and this home reflected her mom’s care.

“Hi,” Isabel said. “I thought we were having brisket.”

“It burned.”

“I’m stunned.”

Her dad pulled her inside and hugged her before he let her go. “Imagine how your mom felt. I don’t think she’s had a failure like this since she burned the bottom out of the giblet pan our first Thanksgiving.”

Isabel had heard that story a few times—when her dad felt her mom needed to be pulled back from the ego-boosting edge of perfection. “Thanks for the laugh.”

“For once, your mom wouldn’t mind me bringing it up. We had the windows open all afternoon.”

She glanced at her watch. She’d sat on that floor for a hell of a long time.

“Are you okay, honey?”

She nodded but hugged him again. “You’re better tonight.”

“I’ve had plenty to do.”

So work was key? She’d remember that next time she pined against a wall. “Where are Ben and Tony?”

“Ben’s persuading Tony to use his high chair. Give me your coat.” He pulled it off her. “You’re trembling. Is it that cold outside?”

Isabel pulled herself together. “It’s snowing again. I’d better go read that letter.”

“Are you worried about something Will might have said?” He put his fingers beneath her chin. “Why are you frightened?”

“No reason.” She tried to brazen it out, but her father didn’t believe her. “I dread hearing from him
after all this time. And I can’t talk to him about whatever he’s said.” A bad taste in her mouth cut her off. What a lie. If Will had wanted talk, he’d have called her. He’d wanted his say and no hint of an argument from her.

She hoped Faith had enjoyed being his grown-up doll more than she had.

“I’m going upstairs.”

“Wait.” Her father stopped her. “How long do you plan to stay here?”

“I don’t know.” Was he suspicious? “Until I finish the house. I can’t really afford a hotel right now.”

“No. Your mother and I thought we’d go home. We can come back if Tony or Ben needs us.”

“I’m sure Tony is better off, having you so close.”

“He dragged your mother out for a turn around the park while the brisket smell cleared out of the house.” He smiled reflectively. “That walk did her good.”

“Don’t go yet, Dad.”

“Huh?”

She wasn’t used to asking for favors. She’d always been the responsible daughter, the one who took life on the chin. Faith had needed their help—to pay school loans and credit-card bills and the occasional car payment before she’d married Ben. They’d expected their more delicate daughter to need their help.

Surprising herself as much as her dad, Isabel threw her arms around him and hung on. “I need you. Can’t you stay a few more days? There’s plenty of room for you and Mom here.”

“No. Your mom’s better during the day, but at night, with nothing to do except look at the ceiling and remember Faith in this house, she might slip back.” He hugged her. “But I have this friend. He spends winters in Florida and he might lend me his condo in D.C.”

“Could you call him tonight?” She didn’t want to be left alone with her disillusionment over Will, her anger with Faith and her confusion about Ben.

She and her parents had long ago adopted a live-and-let-live policy that kept them respectful of one another’s privacy. Tonight she needed more.

“I’ll talk to your mother on the way back to the hotel.”

“Thanks, Dad. I’m going up to change and read that letter. Tell Mom I’ll be down as soon as I clean up a little. I feel like a dust ball.”

“Take your time.” He took her hand as she turned to the stairs. “And yell if you need me.”

She laughed with relief. Her father understood. His empathy strengthened her. She wasn’t really the weak woman who’d collapsed in Ben’s arms.

In her room, the letter lay on a dresser, a large white envelope with Ben’s address stickered over her business address in Middleburg.

What else could Will have hidden from her? She breathed deep to keep from choking.

Turning her back on the letter, she made up her bed. And then she unpacked the clothes and toiletries she’d left in her bag.

At last she couldn’t find another task to put between her and opening the letter. She picked it up and sat in a straight-backed chair. Outside, darkness shaded the window. Downstairs, Tony laughed with the sheer joy only a child knows. Ben’s deep voice echoed his son’s.

Ben and Tony. A normal man and boy in a world where she felt increasingly like a stranger. She loved them. They loved her. Ben needed her here for some reason she didn’t understand yet, but he’d never hurt her. Why not throw the letter away and go downstairs?

Why not?

Because she was no longer the weak-kneed puddle of compliance that Will Barker had bent to suit his plans. She jerked the envelope open so fast it tore.

A single page fluttered to the floor. She picked it up, recognizing Will’s writing with a slight pang.

She looked up, barely seeing the pale green walls. He’d needed convincing? Isabel’s mouth went dry with anger. Though he’d cheated on her and tried to ruin Ben’s life, she felt her deepest contempt because he’d had to be convinced to acknowledge Tony.

Those dinner parties that had been sheer hell and boredom for her. But Faith had treated each one like a gala celebration.

She dropped the letter, laughing without joy. Almost immediately, a knock rattled the door. Ben must have been standing there.

She breathed deep, tried to stop laughing.

Without knocking again, Ben burst inside. He stumbled, stopping just before he landed on the bed.

Isabel laughed harder.

“I thought you’d lock it,” he said.

She put her hands over her mouth until she could stop. Her face felt wet. She must be crying.

“Your dad said you came up to read this.” He picked up the letter. “I would have come with you. You should have waited.”

“Take a look.”

“No.” He held it out. “I came to make sure you were all right, but I don’t want to know anything else.”

“You’ll get a laugh, too.”

“I doubt it.” But he turned the letter faceup. It was irresistible torture.

“No,” she said, trying to take it back. “It’s mean, and everything he said was a lie.” Ben didn’t need Will’s side of it. He hadn’t had three months to start healing.

Ben read anyway, but he didn’t laugh. When he finished, he dropped it on the floor, ground it beneath his heel and wrapped his arms around her.

“Twisted bastard.”

Isabel laughed again. She caught his shirt in both
hands. His heart wasn’t bleeding through it. “They were Romeo and Juliet.”

“And we were stooges, but we’re still here and we’re going to survive. Let him go, Isabel.”

“Why did I try so hard? ‘In my own way I loved you once.’ If I’m lucky, I’ll live the rest of my life without love like his.”

“Will loved himself.”

“And Faith.” She stared at the crumpled paper. “I think they were together for longer than three years.”

“We’ll never know. Will lied to justify an affair, and he obviously wants you to congratulate him for his brief self-control.”

“I can understand—just barely—not being able to control their feelings, but didn’t either of them ever hear of divorce?”

“Will avoided public scandal. It wasn’t good for his company, but more than that—he didn’t believe he could do anything wrong. They were afraid and ashamed, and Will wasn’t man enough to admit your problems were his fault, too.”