Coming Home (21 page)

Justin shut the door to the kitchen as he left the room. To Nicole, the small click of the door sounded like a cannon blast signaling the start of a war.

"Nicole, I..."

"Don't," Nicole snarled, holding her hand up, palm out, to silence her mother. "Don't say a word to me."

"She can sure as hell say a few to me," Wyatt said as he leaped from his chair.

Nicole extended her arm straight out in front of her to block his way, fearing his anger might make him do something he'd later regret. "Please, Wyatt, sit down. We've got to talk about all this rationally."

He looked like he was about to argue, but she grabbed his hand and looked up at him pleadingly. His face didn't soften a bit. His eyes still blazed with anger. But, somehow, he restrained it, pulled his hand free of her grip and stalked across the kitchen to lean against the counter.

"I can see you're angry," Monica said softly.

"How could you?" Nicole asked. "How could you do it, knowing how I loved him? How could you let Justin go through his childhood without a father?"

Tears rose in Monica's eyes. "He didn't want you."

"Like hell!" Wyatt roared.

"You didn't," Monica insisted. "The names you called her, the way you and your grandfather spoke about her! My God, Nicole, it nearly killed your father when that vicious grandfather of his repeated what Wyatt had said about you."

Nicole barely remembered the first few days after she'd told her father she was pregnant. She had a vague memory of Josh's fury after a meeting with Charlie Clayton, and how he'd insisted they leave that night for Maryland. He'd told her she needed her mother, she needed to get away. And she'd followed, numb, scared, too witless to even ask what Wyatt's grandfather had said.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Wyatt said.

"Yes, I do. You called her a liar, a slut, said she was garbage, trying to trap you with a nonexistent baby."

Monica's whole body shook as she walked toward Wyatt. Nicole wondered where her mother got the courage, but she never relented. "How was I supposed to let you waltz back into her life? You showed up at my door weeks later, after she'd finally stopped crying each and every day about you. There you were, arrogant, cocky, demanding, looking like a bum in your dirty clothes with your long hair. For all I knew you had just found out that my family had a lot of money and you figured you'd use Nicole and the baby to get some of it."

Wyatt looked at her in disbelief, but, to his credit, didn't try to move toward her. "You spiteful old...I was dirty and ragged because I'd just raced halfway across the world when I finally found out what had happened."

"I was not going to let my daughter repeat my mistake," Monica continued. "She was young and foolish and wanted to marry you because she was pregnant. Believe me, I'd been in her shoes and the last thing I wanted was for Nicole to go through a short marriage and a bitter divorce and then have to share custody of her child for the rest of her life."

"So you lied," Nicole said baldly.

Her mother shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot and wouldn't meet her eyes. Finally, defiantly, she replied, "Yes. I lied. I told him you'd lost the baby. And I told him in such a way that I knew he wouldn't want to try to contact you."

"You made him think it was intentional. Even though he'd come to you, telling you he wanted me, wanted the baby."

"I didn't believe him," Monica said, her voice insistent. "After what he said about you, how could I believe him?"

Wyatt crossed his arms in front of his chest and tightly explained, "I didn't say those things."

"It was Brady," Nicole said softly, remembering what Wyatt had told her earlier that afternoon in the car. "Brady was the one Wyatt's grandfather contacted."

"Who's Brady?" Monica asked.

"My cousin. Nicole had dated him that summer, and Josh made the assumption that he was the baby's father. I didn't know anything about the pregnancy until weeks later."

Nicole watched her mother's face go pale. The stricken woman reached a hand out to support herself against the doorjamb. Nicole felt a moment's pity for her, but there was one more secret to reveal. One more piece of the puzzle she needed to clarify. She already suspected the truth, but her mother would have to confirm it.

Not moving a muscle, Nicole softly said, "The letter."

No one spoke for a moment. But she knew her mother understood what she was asking. Slowly, Nicole rose from her chair and stood to bring her eyes level with her mother’s.

"You threw away the letter. You must have. Otherwise Wyatt would have come right after Justin was born."

"What letter?" Wyatt asked, his voice coarse and broken and strained as a taut wire.

Hating to hear the pain in his tone, Nicole set aside her misgivings and approached him. Tears came to her eyes as she tried to touch his hand. He flinched away from her. She stood her ground.

"I wrote to you. I sent you one of Justin's baby pictures. I hoped if you saw the picture, and if I swore to you that you were the father, and also swore I hadn't meant to trap you, you'd come. Even after mother told me what your grandfather had said, I felt sure that you'd come. I couldn't believe it when you never did."

Nicole saw Wyatt absorb what she'd said. She wondered if he believed her. After all, he'd been glaring daggers at her ever since he'd first seen Justin. It was very possible he'd never trust another word that came out of her mouth.

He stared searchingly into her eyes, and finally—oh, finally—his expression softened.

"I would have," he murmured. "God knows I would have. But I never got the letter."

She closed her eyes, letting out a long slow breath, and nodded. It wasn’t much, but at least it answered the final question…and filled in that last tiny hole of her heart.

"No, of course you didn't,” she finally whispered. “My mother threw it away." Turning her back to Wyatt, she stared at her mother. "That is what happened, isn't it?"

The other woman stood with her arms wrapped protectively around her own waist. Her perfectly made-up face looked stricken, and guilt was written all over it. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "So sorry. But, Nicole, please try to understand..."

Nicole frowned. "How can you ask me to understand? You stole from me. You stole a life I wanted, more children I might have had. You stole my right to decide my own future."

"And," interrupted Wyatt, "you stole a father away from your only grandchild."

Nicole felt a quick flash of sympathy for her mother when she saw tears rolling down the older woman's cheeks. She'd never seen her mother cry. Not once. Nor had she ever heard the strong, powerful woman apologize for a single thing she'd ever done.

"Nicole, you're a mother, too. Think about it. If you saw Justin on a collision course with trouble, if you just knew in your heart that he was going to be badly hurt, wouldn't you do everything you could to stop it? Lie, steal...whatever it took?"

Nicole thought about it before she answered. In some respects, her mother was right. There was nothing on earth she wouldn't do for her son. "I would gladly give my life for Justin," Nicole admitted. "But I would not willingly deceive him, lie to him, for years on end."

Monica sniffed and retrieved a tissue from her handbag. She wiped her tears. "I don't expect you to forgive me now. Neither of you." She glanced toward Wyatt. "And I'm sure it will take Justin a while, too. I just hope you can try to understand why I did what I did."

Monica turned to leave the kitchen. She paused at the door, looked back over her shoulder and said, "I think it's best if I return to Maryland right away. When you and Justin come home in a few weeks, we'll sit down and try to work this out, all right?"

Nicole caught her mother's eye and slowly gave a single nod.

After Monica left the kitchen, Nicole took a deep breath, then turned to look at Wyatt. He still leaned against the counter, frowning at the door through which her mother had just left.

"No way in hell that happens, Nicole. No way."

Tired and filled with unshed tears and visions of all the things she had lost, she found it hard to focus on his words at first. Then she saw the tight expression, his dark frown, and the way he was shaking with anger.

“No way,” he repeated.

“No way what?” she managed to whisper, already fearing she knew the answer to her question.

"No way my son goes back under that woman's roof.”

"What exactly do you mean by that?" Nicole asked, though, judging by the shakiness of her voice, she already knew.

He heard that fear, noted the way the color dropped out of her face. But still steeled himself against her obvious distress. “I mean, no way is my son going back to that woman’s house in Maryland. She's twisted, malicious, controlling...she's done what she could to screw up your life and she's not going to get another chance to do that to Justin."

Nicole crossed her arms in front of her chest and tilted her head back. Fire burned in her eyes as she almost visibly threw off her own grief and fear. Wyatt couldn't stop a quick flare of admiration for her spunk.

She’d heard his threat and she was going to fight him every step of the way. He'd expected nothing less.

"You have no right to dictate where my son lives."

"Like hell I don't," he retorted. "You had him the first ten years, it would be perfectly within my rights for me to demand the next few...at least until he turns eighteen. Don't push me, Nicole, or that's exactly what I'll do."

He didn't mean to force her hand. In spite of his fury with her, he already knew how much Nicole loved Justin. He didn't want either one of them hurt. But it was more important to him to keep Justin from being emotionally poisoned by his grandmother.

Even as Nicole glared at him, it pained him to look at her, actually caused him a deep, physical hurt. Because, in spite of everything, he loved her so much. Now, knowing they had a child together, he couldn't help the small flashes of fantasy that skirted around the edges of his brain, fantasies of them being a family.

But that just couldn't be. He could never be with someone he didn't trust. Someone who didn't love him. And Nicole obviously didn't love him. Because if she did, she would not have let him suffer earlier that afternoon when he told her he believed their child had never been born.

"Mother is not the devil incarnate. She's a sad, lonely, woman, whose crime was being overprotective of her child."

Anger propelled Wyatt a few steps forward until he towered over Nicole. She looked up at him and didn't display an ounce of fear. Her pointed jaw stuck out, and her lips pulled down in a ferocious scowl.

"Don't you dare defend her to me. Not now, not ever!" He wanted to grab her and shake some sense into her. "That woman cost me the one thing I most wanted in my entire life—a real family with you and our baby. So don't think I will ever forgive and forget.”

Her lips quivered. He didn’t relent.

“And while you're at it, maybe you'd better spare a thought for Justin. I've only spent a few hours with him, but I can see he's a lot like me. If you think you can force him to forgive that woman, drag him back to Baltimore and make him live under the roof of someone who did something so unforgiveable to him, you're in for a rude awakening. When he comes knocking on my door, which he will if you force his hand, I'm going to welcome him with open arms."

Not even waiting for her to respond, Wyatt stalked past her and left the kitchen. He approached the front door, then heard something and looked up the staircase. Justin sat on the top step, his face pale. Wyatt silently cursed. The kid had probably heard every word. "Justin, I'm sorry."

The boy stood and walked down the stairs toward him. Seeing Justin square his shoulders and rub his cheeks against his shoulders to wipe away evidence of tears, he had to admire his son’s courage.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Justin replied. "I don't like you yelling at my mom. None of this was her fault. If you expect to hang out with me, you make sure you treat her right."

Wyatt acknowledged Justin's scolding with a brief nod. Pride in the boy overwhelmed him as he saw his son defend his mother. "I understand. It takes a real man to stand up for the people he cares about, Justin, just like you're trying to do with your mom. And I'm proud of you for it."

The boy stood straighter. "Okay, then. I guess we could get along. Maybe I could come out to your ranch tomorrow."

Wyatt couldn't keep the smile from his lips. "That would be great. I'll pick you up around nine, all right?" Soft footsteps came from the direction of the kitchen, and Wyatt saw Nicole approaching. She paused a few feet away in the darkened hallway between the kitchen and the foyer. Even from here he could see how pale her face was, how her hands were clenched in front of her. She bit on her bottom lip like she was going to chew a hole through it. But she didn't interfere.

"Good night, Justin," Wyatt said. He peered into the hallway and caught Nicole's eye. "Goodbye, Nicole."

Nicole watched him go, feeling a big chunk of her heart walked out the door with him. She understood completely what he was telling her. His words only confirmed what she'd seen in his eyes. He wanted nothing to do with her. Wyatt felt as though she'd betrayed him.