The Girl of Sand & Fog (43 page)

He grins. “Nope. I just know my wife.”

I keep my face carefully blank.
Not as well as
you think, Bobby.
I wait until he’s out of view in the bathroom and I hear
the water turn on before I lie back on the bed, turning my decisions over and
over again inside my head. My first impulse is always to run and tell Bobby
everything. It’s so freaking hard not to, to wait and try to do it at the right
time, in the right way.

But Bobby is not just my husband. He’s my best
friend and I want to share everything with him.

I want to tell him so badly…

I cross the room, take my Surface from my tote,
sit back on the bed, and log on to my e-mail. I’ll let the e-mail decide. If
the last known locations of either of his parents are a reasonable drive from
where we are, I’m telling Bobby everything tonight.

I quickly search through the attachment. No last
known address for his birth mother, but the dad is in Lodi, California.

Lodi? Lodi? Lodi?

Where the fuck is that?

I do a Google map search.

Oh crap, that’s not far.

Isn’t there a song about Lodi?

I Google again. Yep, there’s a song by Creedence
Clearwater Revival. I don’t like the lyrics.
Stuck in Lodi again
.
Doesn’t sound like a great place for a milestone moment.

Bobby doesn’t even want to find his birth
parents.

Maybe I should leave it alone.

My other secret reminds me why I shouldn’t.

“What are you sitting there plotting?”

I look up to find Bobby standing in the bathroom
door—smelling good, looking good—waiting expectantly with only a towel draped
around his hips.

I flush. “Nothing.”

He goes to his bag and pulls out a pair of
shorts. “You’re a terrible liar. Do you know that, Kaley?” He drops his towel
and pulls on his shorts, and then sinks down beside me on the bed. “Are you
going to tell me what you’re hiding from me? Something has been going on with
you for weeks.”

I debate.

He waits.

Fuck. No point delaying even if this room is not
the scene I pictured in my head. I rummage through my bag, pull out the small
case I carry my tampons in, kiss him on the cheek, curl into his side, and drop
the white stick with the blue cross onto his lap.

“There, that’s my secret,” I announce, anxiously
trying to read his reaction. “I don’t know if this is good or bad. We haven’t
really talked about kids. Blue means pregnant.”

I wait. He’s just staring at the stick. He looks
like he’s in shock.

“Aren’t you going to say something, Bobby? You
better say something soon or I’m going to freak out—”

It happens so fast—being pulled into his arms,
crushed into his chest, and his mouth closing in on mine—that the last of my
rambling words are trapped in my throat.

When he finally pulls back, he’s breathing like
he just ran a marathon. “Oh fuck. I’m going to be a father. How? When?”

I make a face at him. “How? Really? You just
asked me how?”

He laughs, but the entire surface of his body is
trembling. “Oh God, I can’t breathe.”

“Can’t breathe? Is that good or bad?”

His expression makes tears rise to my eyes.
“Good. Definitely good. How could you ask me that, Kaley?” He lies back on the
bed, taking me with him and holding me close. “We’re going to be parents. We’re
going to have our own family. I’m going to have my own family.”

This time the tears give way as I pick up on what
he hasn’t said: a connection to someone by blood. Absolute. From the start. No
unanswered questions. No missing pieces. Complete.

God, how foolish I am at times. I shouldn’t have
worried even for a second about telling him. I should have known how he’d take
it, how important us having a baby someday
would be to him even if we
haven’t discussed it.

I kiss him on his chest. “Pretty wonderful, huh?”

He stares at me, his eyes sparkling. “How long
have you known?”

“Two months.”

His brows lower. “Two months? And you didn’t tell
me.”

“I didn’t want you to think that the only reason
I agreed to marry you was because you knocked me up.”

He stills, anxiously studying me. “It isn’t, is
it?”

“No. Of course not.” I settle into him, moving an
arm across his stomach and this time holding him. “So this pretty much seals
the deal. We need to go home. Tell the families we got married and that you
knocked me up.”

Bobby grimaces. “Oh, this is going to go over
great with your dad. Can you use a different word when you tell him that you’re
pregnant?”

We both erupt into laughter. 

Once he’s calmed, I lean up and gaze down at him,
smiling. “Can you imagine how crazy your mom is going to be when she finds out
she’s going to be a grandmother? We definitely need to figure out where we want
to live. I need to see a doctor soon. I’m in my third month. And we need a
home.”

He inhales deeply then exhales loudly. His hands
take hold of my face. “Whatever you want. That’s what we’ll do.”

I shrug. “I don’t know what I want. I haven’t
gotten to thinking about that yet. I’ve been a little preoccupied with the
how
to tell you
part.”

His hand moves slowly under my shirt and starts
to inch upward to my breasts. “I know what I want. I want to make love to you.
Right now. This second.”

He turns me beneath him on the bed. “It better be
more than a second,” I warn between kisses, “or you are definitely going to be
sleeping in the other bed the rest of the night.”

He has me half undressed before I stop him.

“Wait. There is something else I have to tell
you, Bobby.”

“Now? Can’t it wait?”

I shake my head, pull away from him, grab my
tablet and click it on.

Bobby falls back on the bed, groaning. “Kaley,
what are you doing?”

I open the attachment but I don’t let him see it
yet.

“I’ve done something I need to tell you about.”

His eyes shoot open. “What?”

He sounds alarmed.

Damn, why did my voice have to sound all worried
and shit?

I search for the right words to ease into this.
“I know what you said, how you feel about this, but I thought it was important
because we’re having a baby.”

He sits up, tense. “You thought what was
important?”

I clutch the tablet even more firmly against me.
“Finding your birth parents.” Fuck. Everything in his body goes rigid. “Hear me
out before you get angry, OK? I’m a mommy-to-be here so remember that before
you get really pissed off. I know my parents. My genetic history. But I want to
know yours, too. Those things are important when you’re having a baby.”

He stares at me, the light completely gone from
his eyes. “Fuck, what did you do, Kaley?”

Oh crap.

I don’t like the look on his face.

This isn’t going to go well.

I’ll just dump it between us, one dump, no more
easing into it.

“I asked Linda what agency you were adopted from.
I filled out the forms—as you, by the way—to unseal your birth records. And my
mom received the documents, scanned them and e-mailed them to me. I know who
your birth parents are and where they live. At least, your birth dad. I know
where he lives. There wasn’t a last known address for your birth mother, but
maybe your dad knows and we can find her that way.”

His jaw drops. “You did what?”

I set the Surface onto the bed between us. “I
found your father. He’s in Lodi. Less than two hours from us and, Bobby, we are
going there tomorrow before we head back to Pacific Palisades. You just said
whatever I want. I want to meet my child’s biological grandfather.”

He springs from the bed, pacing and raking a hand
through his hair. “I don’t know how you could do this without discussing it
with me.”

I follow his agitated movements. “I can do it
because I love you and I’ve got your baby growing in me. That gives me a say in
whether we find your birth parents or not.”

He stops. “A say: yes. Total vote in decision
process: no.”

I pout. “Well, you got to make our last major
decision all on your own.”

“And what would that be?”

I arch a brow. “That would be when you decided
that not having a condom didn’t matter and we were doing it anyway. Your exact
words, Bobby. And you were wrong. It did matter. One time not shooting into a
cap and here I am pregnant.”

A flush rises on his face. “That’s different. And
how the fuck was I supposed to know you’re just like your mother? A fertility
machine.”

I stare at him, not really angry because I know
I’ve pushed the limits with this, but I pretend to be angry. “Well, that was a
crummy thing to say to your pregnant wife. You’re definitely sleeping in your
own little double bed tonight.”

His eyes scream
I’m sorry
but he doesn’t
say it.

Yep, he’s really pissed.

Damn. Maybe I shouldn’t have done this.

CHAPTER 34

The
next morning I open my eyes to find Bobby stretched out on the extra bed, wide
awake and staring at the ceiling.

Crap, I must have fallen asleep in the middle of
the shitstorm and Bobby must have decided to be a jerk and not join me in bed.

Time for the next round, I guess, but after last
night I’m not sure that I want to continue the fight. We argued for hours about
how I could have gone behind his back and done this. Bobby fluctuated between
being really angry, really nervous about potentially meeting his birth dad,
really apologetic because he shouldn’t be bickering with his pregnant wife, and
round and round we went until my preggers body had had enough and it was
hasta
la bye-bye,
Kaley.

In between the discussion over how I could have
done this, we debated whether to call his birth dad or just show up on his
doorstep.

I study his expression. I’m not sure what his
mood is this morning, but I’m exhausted. The last thing I want is to be dragged
into more discussion.

I sit on the edge of the bed. “Get up, Bobby. Get
dressed. Pack. We’re going to Lodi before we head back to Pacific Palisades.
You can stay in the car if you want to, but if your birth dad is there I’m
meeting him today. I don’t care what you say, I don’t care if you’re pissed at
me, and we’re not discussing it anymore. Decision made. I’m going.”

We dress in silence, pack up, climb into the car,
grab breakfast at a drive-thru, and head out toward Lodi with nothing decided.

I sit quietly in the car as we speed up Highway
99, pretending to focus on my meal as I try to read my husband’s face. He looks
drained, worried, a little sad, and still a smidge angry with me.

The tension between us is palpable.

I hate when we’re emotionally out of sync.

He is staring at the road ahead, jaw tight and
fingers clenched around the steering wheel. Not good. Silent, brooding Bobby.

I take a bite of my breakfast burrito. My stomach
turns. Oh fuck, not morning sickness again. Not now. I try to fight down the
bile in my mouth and it immediately fights to come back up.

A ghastly sound escapes me.

Bobby glances at me. The color drains from his
face. “Kaley, what’s wrong?”

Without answering him, I scramble for the bag
with the remainder of our breakfast and start retching. The tires screech as he
pulls off on the side of the freeway.

His arm slips around my shoulders, supporting me.
“Oh jeez, baby, I shouldn’t upset you. What a jerk I am. Fuck, is there
anything I can do to help?”

I shake my head, not daring to speak, not sure
that it’s over. I wait. Oh, thank you, God. Nothing. I relax back into my seat,
breathing rapidly.

He starts to brush back the tumbling hair from my
face. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry. That didn’t happen because we fought all night, did
it?”

A small laugh escapes me as I slowly open my
eyes. “No, I got sick because I’m pregnant. I’ve been getting sick in the morning
even after the nights we make love. Why do you think I’ve been spending so much
time in the bathroom getting ready? I’ve been tossing my stomach into the
toilet almost every day for five weeks now.”

His gaze holds me like a gentle embrace. “I’m
sorry about the sickness and I’m sorry about the fight. I would have rather
made love to you last night. I hate fighting with you, Kaley.”

“Me, too.”

He kisses me lightly on my brow. “Do you feel
well enough to do this today?”

I nod, excited, since I can hear how much he
wants to finish this trip to Lodi to meet his dad, even though he hasn’t said
it.

We drive the rest of the way in silence, but the
tension is gone between us, and he’s extra cautious not to upset me or drive
too fast.

I ease close into his side from the passenger
seat and let him put an arm around me. He drops a kiss on my curls and then I
touch my lips to his neck.

“So I’ve been thinking of names,” I announce
randomly out of nowhere. “If it’s a girl, Alana. And if it’s a boy, Aldo.”

Bobby’s expression is priceless. “You want to
name a girl Alana? And a boy Aldo?”

I fight not to laugh. “Variations of Alan. Pretty
groovy, huh? That might score you some points with my dad.”

He shudders, but he’s holding back a smile. Good.
Even better. Yep, we’re back in a good place again.

An hour later our GPS prompts us to a freeway
off-ramp, and I sit up in my seat, more alertly studying the passing scenery.
Well, Lodi isn’t awful, but it’s not exactly great. It looks like every other
hole-in-the-wall town in Northern California. I’m a little apprehensive about
what we’re going to find. I’m pretty sure we’re driving the only Aston Martin
in this area.

We cut through the city, making turn after turn,
then onto a straight road that looks like it goes on forever. Vineyards line
each side of the two lanes. It’s pretty and rural, and somewhere on this street
is the house where Bobby’s birth dad lives.

I turn in my seat and smile at him. “They make
wine in Lodi. I didn’t know that.”

“They make wine everywhere in California,” Bobby
replies, his voice a little on edge.

“Maybe your dad owns a winery.”

He shakes his head, downshifting the car. “Nope,
more likely works on one. Probably a day laborer. He’ll probably take one look
at the car and ask me for a loan. I bet my dad is a total loser.”

Oh crap. That doesn’t sound at all like Bobby,
and I know he doesn’t mean it. He’s just being uncharacteristically negative to
keep from getting his hopes up.

“Your birth dad is not going to be a total loser.
Your birth parents have to be good people to have a son as wonderful as you.”

His gaze moves to pause briefly on mine. “I’m
still not sure if this was a good idea, Kaley.”

“Well, it’s too late. I think we’re here.”

The GPS is yapping in its annoying voice to make
a fast left and I quickly read the sign verifying it’s the right address.

Bobby pulls to a stop at the giant billboard at
the entrance of the driveway.

I give him
the stare
. “Aha. Loser, huh?
Willis & Sons Winery. He owns a freaking winery, Bobby. A pretty successful
one, by the looks of it. Can you relax now? This isn’t going to be awful and
he’s not going to hit you up for money.”

Bobby puts the car back into gear. “Sons. The
dude has other kids. I have brothers. Shit, maybe even sisters. Why didn’t they
want me?”

His jaw clenches.

Oh damn.

I didn’t take that sign the way Bobby did.

I kiss his arm. “I don’t know. But since we’re
going to find out very soon, why don’t we stop with the doom and gloom thoughts
in your head?”

We continue down the road and park in an empty
gravel lot shaded by large oak and sycamore trees and surrounded by buildings.
One is obviously the main house, a large wooden structure at least a hundred
years old, and across the drive is a smaller replica labeled
Tasting Room
.
Set back behind both structures is a larger building with floor-to-ceiling barn
doors open.

I quickly inspect the yard. “It’s beautiful here.
Look, they have a small lake surrounded by grass with tables so people can have
picnics. It seems like a very nice winery, Bobby.”

Nothing. No comment. He’s just staring out the
window. After a few minutes, I unbuckle my seat belt and pull the strap of my
cross-body tote over my head.

I open my door. “I’m going to go look around.”

Bobby stops me with a hand. “No wait. Someone’s
coming.”

I turn in the direction of his gaze to catch a
man exiting the largest outbuilding. The closer he gets, the faster my
heartbeat. Oh my God: tall, lean-muscled build, light brown hair.

Holy shit.

“Hey, kid, nice car,” he says loud enough to be
heard through the open windows, pointing at us as he continues walking toward
the main house.

I climb out of my seat and he turns to look at me
over his shoulder. His eyes widen in that
she’s gorgeous
way, and he’s
impressed enough by what he sees that he stops walking, pulls off his
sunglasses and turns to face me.

Big green eyes.

My heart drops.

Fuck, he can’t be more than thirty-five, but the
resemblance is uncanny.

Willis & Sons Winery? 

This guy has to be Bobby’s older brother.

“The tasting room isn’t open yet,” he says
politely into my stupor, “but it’s unlocked if you want to wait inside. I can
be back in a few minutes.”

“We’re not here to taste wine,” I hear Bobby
announce. When I look he’s standing half in, half out of the car, staring
across the roof. “I’m looking for Greg Willis. My name is Bobby—”

“Rowan. You’re Bobby Rowan,” he exclaims in
stunned disbelief.

The color drains from the man’s face.

Crap, I can tell he knows exactly why we’re here
and has been catapulted into his own
holy shit
moment.

The vineyard around us grows uncomfortably still.

Why doesn’t someone say something?

Fine. “Do you know where he is?” I ask.

The man’s eyes shift back to me, and then he
hurries across the gravel, extending his hand. “I’m Greg Willis. This is my
dad’s winery. I run it with my brothers. And you are?”

Oh my God, this hot, only slightly older version
of Bobby is Greg Willis? His birth father? He couldn’t have been more than
fourteen or fifteen when Bobby was born.

I shake his outstretched hand. “It’s a pleasure
to meet you, Mr. Willis. I’m Kaley Rowan. I’m Bobby’s wife.”

His eyes widen and then he smiles and steps back.
Almost in slow motion, he turns toward Bobby. “I’m the man you’re looking for.”

Bobby comes around the car, stopping close next
to me. “My wife has some papers that indicate you are my father.”

Greg nods. “Don’t need to see them. I can tell
just by looking at you, Bobby. And I’ve waited a very long time to meet you.”

I can feel the emotion coursing through my husband.
“The records had an address for you, but none for my birth mother, Ellen. Do
you know where she is?”

Greg’s eyes cloud over. “She was my high school
sweetheart. We married right after graduation. Never had any more children.
Just you. My wife died two years ago. A car accident. But I can tell you
everything you want to know about Ellen.”

I stare up at Bobby to see how that one hits him.
He purses his lips, nodding and looking dazed.

“We’ve come a far way to meet you,” I say. “It’s
really hot today. Is there someplace cooler we can sit and talk?”

Greg flushes. “Why don’t we go into the house?”
he suggests eagerly. “The entire family will be here later. My brothers—your
uncles—and my dad. Please stay. I know everyone will want to meet you.”

Bobby’s Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. He’s
choking back emotion, and I can tell he’s not going to be able to speak anytime
soon.

I shift my gaze to find Greg imploring us with
his eyes. “We’d love to stay. We want to meet everyone.”

Greg’s smile is enormous—exactly the same smile
as Bobby’s—as he gestures us toward the front door. “Come on, then. Let’s get
you inside.”

Bobby nods. He looks like he can hardly take in
air. His fingers clutching my hand squeeze lightly. I kiss his arm and step
ahead toward the house.

I pause at the front door and look at Greg. “I’m
so happy we came.”

“I’m so happy you’re here,” he says as we step
into the house.

I peek back over my shoulder to make sure that
Bobby is following from the yard. God, I’ve never seen him look so overwhelmed,
but his expression tells me this is all going to be OK. The room is be filled
with that tentative awkwardness of two people in an intense moment not knowing
where to start, but the air is also warm with pulsing emotion from both men.

This is good, really good.

Bobby needed this.

I give myself a mental pat on the back.

“Should we sit down?” Greg says. “There’s so much
I want to know. I want to know everything about your life, Bobby, and your
beautiful wife here. And I’m sure you have questions. I’ll answer anything you
ask me.”

Bobby nods, and I cross the room trying to decide
where to sit. Then I sink down on a sofa and wait for the two men—unable it
seems to do anything but stare at each other—to step into this incredible
moment with me.

Finally, Bobby sits in the spot beside me and his
dad takes a chair close and facing us.

Bobby rakes a hand nervously through his hair. “I
don’t know where to start.”

Greg laughs. “I don’t either. Why don’t I start
with what I know? I know you grew up in Pacific Palisades. I know you are one
hell of an athlete and was your graduating class’s valedictorian. I know who
your adoptive parents are, Len and Linda Rowan. I know you’ve been traveling
across the US for the past two years. Your mom, Linda, is a good woman. She’s
been sending us letters and pictures of you through the adoption attorney your
entire life. We never wanted to give you up. We kept you for two months, but we
were just too young to do right by a baby. It was the hardest thing we ever had
to do, giving you up. But it was the right thing and we felt so blessed that we
found Linda for you after we received the first letter from her. It meant so
much to Ellen every month to get a letter and some pictures of you. An enormous
comfort to know we did well by you, especially since God never saw fit to give
us more children. That would have made life impossible for Ellen if we hadn’t
known you were happy. Linda is a loving woman and prolific letter writer. I
know a lot about you, Bobby Rowan. A lot more than you think.”