Beneath the Night Tree (13 page)

And I was angry. Angry-scared. A bewildering mix of panic and regret and worry. I wondered if he could see it in my face.

“Julia,” he said again, stopping a pace away. It looked for a moment like he was going to reach for me, offer a handshake or maybe even a hug, but instead he lifted his hands as if he didn’t know what to do with them. It was a gesture of surrender, a shrug that encompassed all that had happened yet accounted for none of it. Parker looked at his palms, the guilt I imagined etched there, and then tucked his fists self-consciously in his pockets. It seemed there was nothing more to say.

I stared at him, shocked at his inability to speak. Wasn’t this what he had wanted? a meeting? a chance to talk about what had happened? to meet his son? I wasn’t going to give up anything until he asked for it. Begged for it.

The silence stretched taut between us, a thin line of unease that made my bones ache from the strain of waiting. I almost turned around and got back into my car. Almost. But something in Parker’s face—the downturn of his mouth, the way his eyes couldn’t quite hold mine, the smile lines that had begun to soften the hard planes of his chiseled features, to gently age him—held me back. Whatever he couldn’t bring himself to say, I wanted to hear it. And though my hand itched with the desire to slap his perfectly formed cheek, from somewhere hidden deep inside rose a fleeting wish to cup it. To lay my fingers against the warmth of his skin.

I trembled at the thought. Crossed my arms over my chest.

Finally, Parker sucked in a mouthful of air and gulped it down with the relish of someone who hadn’t breathed in many long moments. It must’ve emboldened him because he pulled his hands out of his pockets and leaned toward me. He didn’t approach me, didn’t seem quite brave enough to diminish the gap between us, but he did attempt a smile.

“After all this time . . . ,” he whispered. “It’s good to see you.”

Origins

My legs were beginning to tremble, a subtle shiver of motion that matched the breeze lifting the soft fringe of leaves above us. It seemed like the whole world was dancing a waltz, a gentle, rising sway that made me feel off-balance, dizzy.

“Would you like to sit?” Parker asked, inching yet a little closer.

I didn’t say anything but turned and carefully led the way to a bench tucked in a copse of paper birches. The small stand of trees looked old and tired, the white sheets of their bark yellowed and curled like the pages of a discarded manuscript. A sad story, irrelevant and useless, not worth the breath it would take to repeat it. But hadn’t I believed that our tale—Parker’s and mine—had reached an end? Yet here we were unearthing a worn narrative, dusting it off, starting anew. The thought made me want to touch the thin scrolls of bark, to press the long fragments back against the trunk where they belonged. Or to take an axe to each narrow base, leaving nothing but stumps. Some stories were best left untold.

The bench seemed small to me, and I sat as far to one side as I could get without slipping off the hard edge. Parker took his cue from my stiff movements and gave me space, allowing just enough room between us for another. For Daniel.

“So . . .” Parker cupped his hands as if he was cold and stole a glance at me out of the corner of his eye. “How have you been?”

It was a strange question. Too innocuous, too normal. But where else were we supposed to start? “Good,” I said, testing my voice. To my surprise, it worked. I sounded like myself. “I’ve been great, actually. I have a good job. An amazing family. I’m back in school.”

“I’m glad to hear that. You always were bright.”

Parker’s faint praise felt patronizing. As if he had any right to assess my intellect. In his first e-mail he had made a point of telling me about his successful career as a chemical engineer at a biomedical corporation. It felt like a little stab, a small way of rubbing my face in the fact that he had achieved his dream while mine was tossed out with the hundreds of diapers I’d changed. I might not have realized my university goals, but surely I had other things he didn’t. Of their own accord, my eyes fastened on his powerful hands, studied the long fingers, the clean, pale palms of a white-collar worker. There was no ring.

I tried to squelch my petty desire to hurt him, but I found myself blurting out, “And I have a wonderful boyfriend. I’m sure we’ll be married soon.”

I regretted the words the second they were out of my mouth.
“I’m sure we’ll be married soon”?
I sounded like a child, a grasping, desperate little girl. I might as well have stuck out my tongue and said,
Nah-nah
.

“That’s . . . great,” Parker muttered. He looked me in the eye and smiled weakly, but I thought it was forced and insincere.

For a moment I believed his obvious disappointment was about me—about the reality that I, his former friend and lover, was off-limits. But then his gaze slid beyond me and he squinted in the direction of the pond, past the small grove of trees that blocked our view. Understanding washed over me. Parker had caught a glimpse of Daniel as he left the car with Simon and Grandma. And he was saddened by the thought that the child he fathered already had a dad—or almost did—not that I would soon have a husband.

I expected Parker to broach the topic of our son right then and there, but he held himself in check. Abandoning the futile search for his long-lost offspring, he sat back and slapped his hands on jean-clad thighs. “Well, I’m glad to hear that you’ve done so well. That you’re happy. And I’m sorry to barge into your life like this. My e-mail must have been a shock.”

“That’s a bit of an understatement.”

“I’m grateful you agreed to see me. Really, I am. You didn’t have to.”

“I know.”

Parker’s chin tilted as he studied me, throwing his head back just enough to remind me of the arrogant twentysomething he had been so long ago. Much of that conceit seemed muted now. The truth was, there was something subdued and almost quiet about him as he sat beside me. Older, wiser, maybe even gentle in a learned, practiced way. The Parker I had known would not have been so patient and apologetic.

“Thank you,” he said, surprising me.

At first I wondered if my thoughts had been voiced aloud, but then I realized that he meant,
“Thank you for agreeing to see me.”
Grandma had taught me to be polite, and “You’re welcome” slipped out before I could imagine how silly it sounded.

“I’m sure you’d like to know a bit about me,” Parker offered, shifting in his seat. His tone changed just enough to alert me that what he was about to say was a practiced monologue. I wondered whom else he had given his spiel to. “It’s a bit of a long story,” he continued, “but I won’t bore you with all the gory details. Suffice it to say, I started a company about a year ago that develops purified research proteins for pharmaceutical markets. It’s a fairly small operation right now, but the demand is great and we’re expanding rapidly.”

I nodded and hoped he wouldn’t realize that I had no idea what he was talking about. Biomedical engineering was once my major, after all. The thought made me cringe. It was hard to grasp that the man before me was the boy who had once been my statics TA. Someone I trusted. Someone who was supposed to have my best interests at heart.

“It’s really exciting stuff.” Parker smiled, and this time it was sincere. “We’re isolating and purifying animal proteins for use in human pharmaceuticals. The industry is limitless. It’s mind-boggling.”

“Absolutely,” I agreed. But I cared little about his professional life. “Where do you live?” I blurted out, startling myself with the mundane question. And yet his answer mattered much to me.

“In Minnesota. About two hours from here. It’s a little town called New Elm.”

“Seems like a strange place for a biomedical company.”

“Not really. We’re in the heart of agricultural America. Since we work primarily with porcine, bovine, and equine hormones, we have easy access to our supply source. Really, I could set up a lab anywhere.”

Anywhere. It was an ominous thought. Mason was anywhere. What if he wanted to set up a lab here? to be close to Daniel? I shivered.

“Are you cold?”

“A little,” I lied because I didn’t want him to know that he was making me quiver.

Parker’s coat was off before I could raise a finger in protest.

“No,” I rushed to deter him. “No, keep it. I don’t need a coat.” I almost said,
I don’t need your coat,
but I stopped myself in time.

“It’s no problem,” Parker said, settling the expensive jacket over my shoulders. “I have a sweater on and I’m hot anyway.”

I didn’t see any way I could shrug off the coat without seeming totally petty and ungrateful. So I left it where it was, the smooth collar against the skin of my neck, the scent of his earthy cologne rising from the luxurious leather in a light cloud of masculinity. He had reverted to his earlier, distant position, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that Parker was touching me, that his hand was against the arc of my warm collarbone.

“No significant other?” I asked, praying my voice wouldn’t falter over the three simple words.

“No.” Parker’s answer was absolute, rimmed by something that smacked of bitterness.

We sat there for a minute or two in silence, our disjointed conversation lying in ruins at our feet. Our words seemed like the spent arrows of a tired battle, the sort of war that no one cared to wage. We had thrown listless gauntlets down, but it was already over. We had done our part and I could think of nothing else to say to prevent the inevitable. Any moment he would ask to see Daniel, and I felt like I had no choice but to acquiesce. Hadn’t I implied as much in my e-mail? Didn’t Grandma think it was the right thing to do?

“Daniel doesn’t know who you are.” The confession spilled off my tongue, delivering a final, devastating blow.

“I didn’t expect him to,” Parker admitted, but he sounded sad anyway. “Who should we tell him I am?”

“A friend. You’re an old friend.”

“But I’m not just a friend, Julia.”

“It’s enough for now,” I said definitively. There was no room for discussion on this matter. “He’s five years old. You can’t just magically appear one day and expect to be his daddy. He’s lived a lot of life without you.”

“I know.”

“What do you want?” I demanded, desperate to finally know. “Do you want to see him and leave? Do you think you have a claim to him? a shot at partial custody or something like that?”

Parker looked taken aback. “No, nothing like that. Like either of those things. I’m not here to satisfy some morbid curiosity. And I don’t have any intention of taking your son away. I’m no father.”

I wanted to shout,
Amen!
but I merely stared at him, looking for a reason to believe what he was saying.

“I just want to meet him.” All at once Parker seemed lonely. Sad. “And if it’s okay with you, I’d like to see him again. And maybe again. And someday, if you’re ready for it and if he’s ready for it . . . I’d like him to know I’m his dad.”

“I’m not ready for that.”

“I don’t think I am either. But we can take it a day at a time.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, dialed up my mommy meter to high. “Are you a good man, Patrick Holt? Do I even want you in my son’s life?”

Parker shook his head, but his gaze never left mine. “What do you want me to say? that I don’t gamble, smoke, or womanize? that the only drinking I do is the occasional beer with the guys? I wash behind my ears, Julia, and I’ve never stolen a thing in my life. I even believe there is a God. I don’t know if I’m good. But I try.”

It was the most honest answer I could have hoped for.

“I’ll go get him,” I whispered.

I tingled all over when I pushed myself off the bench, but it was an empowering feeling. A shot of pure adrenaline. I had no idea how Daniel would react or if Parker planned on keeping his word, but I sent an insistent prayer heavenward as my feet swept through the grass, and I believed that my plea was heard. Parker wasn’t the monster I had envisioned he would be, and in many ways I felt as if I had the upper hand. If I could handle this, I could handle anything.

“Lord willing,” I whispered.

Grandma spotted me long before I ever made it to the pond and raised her hand in greeting, in blessing. I wasn’t quite ready to talk to her, so I stopped where I was and wrapped my arms around me to watch Daniel come. From the droop of his shoulders I could tell that he was arguing with Grandma, that he was more interested in continuing his search for water bears than abandoning the swampy mess so he could spend time with Mom’s old friend. I didn’t blame him. But for some reason he was more apt to obey his grandmother, and in no time at all, Daniel was scrambling up the hill from the water’s edge.

“Hey, buddy,” I said, pulling him into a tight hug when he was within arm’s reach. “Did you have fun?”

Daniel wiggled out of my embrace and gave me a scathing look designed to send me on an extended guilt trip. “I don’t want to meet your boring friend.”

I should have reprimanded him, but the poor kid had no idea what he was getting into. “How do you know he’s boring?”