Their Child?: Lori's Little Secret / Which Child Is Mine? / Having The Best Man's Baby. Christine RimmerЧитать онлайн книгу.
about it now.”
Enid didn’t press her further. Lori was grateful for that.
Wednesday, she decided she was through hiding in her room. When Tucker arrived for Brody, she answered the door herself.
His face, all ready with a smile of greeting, went blank at the sight of her. “Lori.”
“Hello, Tucker.”
“That eye looks pretty bad.”
She drew herself up. “It’s better than it was. In fact, I’m feeling pretty good. By tomorrow, I’ll be ready for that long talk we need to have.”
“We’ll see—Brody here?”
“You know he is.” She stepped back so he could enter as Brody pounded down the stairs.
“Hey, Tucker!”
The look on Tucker’s face at the sight of his son made her heart squeeze up tight in her chest. “Hey, bud. There you are. Let’s get the heck out of here.” He turned and headed down the front steps.
“Okay!” Brody flew by her, close on Tucker’s heels. Halfway down the walk, he paused to look back at her. “Mom? You could go with us, if you want…”
Tucker stopped in midstride and turned to face her again, his eyes flat, giving her nothing.
She beamed a thousand-watt smile at her son. “Uh. No. I’ll stay home tonight. You have a great time.”
Brody ran back and hugged her. “Love you, Mom…”
She was careful, not to hold him too tight. “Love you, too…”
His arms dropped away and he was off again, racing down the steps and along the walk, yanking open the rear door of the big black car and sliding inside.
Lori stepped back into the house and quickly shut the door. She was simply unable, at that moment, to watch the gleaming Cadillac drive away from her carrying her child.
She turned from the shut door to see her parents standing together near the foot of the stairs wearing twin expressions of sad bewilderment.
In their loving, confused faces she saw her secret reflected. She saw what the secret had done to her family, how it had ripped right through the fabric of it, tearing a ragged hole of hurt and misunderstanding every bit as wide as the one that yawned now between her and the father of her child.
Her dad and mom—and Lena—they were her people. And she had deserted them, left them behind. She’d made a new life for herself without them in it.
Because she was a coward unwilling to face the consequences of the huge mistakes that she had made.
No more, she thought, the words as loud and final as gunshots inside her head. No more secrets and no more lies.
She lifted her head high. “Mama, make a fresh pot of coffee. You and me and Daddy have to have a little talk.”
Chapter Eleven
The kitchen was way too quiet when Lori finished revealing the truth behind all the lies.
Finally, her mother said, “Oh, hon. What a terrible mess. I am so, so sorry…”
Her dad hung his big head. “Lori—girl, I’ve always wanted to tell you, but I never knew how…”
Lori couldn’t get over how light she felt, suddenly. Unshackled. Released at last from the dragging weight of the secret and all the lies and evasions that had followed after.
“Tell me now, Daddy,” she said. “Because I promise, I’m listening.”
He raised his head and looked at her through haunted eyes. Her heart went out to him. For the first time she understood how much he had suffered for his part in what had happened eleven years before.
Heck said, “I always used to worry…back when you and your sister were growing up. I worried about Lena. All the boys were after her. I was sure she was headed for trouble. But you? I never lost a wink of sleep over you. You were always so smart and quiet, with no time or inclination to tease and flirt and string the boys along. And you had straight-As and all those colleges were after you, throwin’ scholarships at you…” Heck folded both arms on the table and paused to look down at the big Rolex watch he always wore with such pride. He seemed to study that watch, as if the face of it could tell him more than the time.
Enid reached over and brushed his shoulder—a light and tender touch of wifely reassurance. “Go on, honey. Tell her. She wants to hear it.”
Heck looked up again and met Lori’s eyes. “I guess I kind of went crazy, when you turned up in the family way. I didn’t know how to handle it. I was not prepared. I wanted so much for you—expected so dang much of you—more, I see now, than I ever expected of your sister. I was hopping mad and I scared you to death, with all my shouting, my hard threats and carrying on.” He repeated, “I scared you to death. And then I sent you away. I sent you away—” His voice broke. He looked down again and that time, it was obvious he wasn’t looking at his watch. His thick shoulders shook. “And you never came back. I am sorry. I never should have sent you away.”
Lori reached across the table and clasped her father’s beefy arm. “Daddy,” she said. “I forgive you. And, I did come back. I’m here now, aren’t I?”
He lifted his head then. Tears tracked down his ruddy sun-creased cheeks. He swiped them away with the back of his hand and blustered, “Will you look at me? Bawlin’ like a damn baby. Don’t know what the hell’s gotten into me.”
“I’m here, Daddy,” Lori softly said, once more. “I really am.”
Her father looked straight at her, then. He was smiling through his tears.
Later, around the dinner table, Enid asked about Tucker.
Lori confessed, “I don’t know any more than you do. From his actions, I’d say it’s pretty clear he intends to be a real father to Brody.”
“Brody hasn’t said a word, so I’m guessing he doesn’t know yet…that Tucker’s his dad?”
Lori shook her head. “Tucker wants Brody to have a chance to get to know him first. He wants to break it to him gently. I’m going to try to respect Tucker’s wishes on that. So unless Brody asks you directly, please keep what I said tonight to yourselves for a while.”
Enid said, “Whatever you need from us—but if he does ask?”
“Then tell him to come and talk to me. I don’t want Brody lied to.”
Her father nodded. “We understand.”
Enid said, “And what about you and Tucker? It did seem, until just lately, that you two were…becoming close.”
“Mama, I just don’t know. Right now, between Tucker and me, it doesn’t look too good.”
Thursday afternoon at four-thirty, Tucker sat behind the desk in his study at the Double T, a whiskey on ice in a crystal glass at his elbow and Lori on his mind. He reached for the phone—and it rang.
Impatient to get rid of whoever it was and get on to the phone call to Lori, he pushed the talk button and put it to his ear without checking the display. “Tucker Bravo. What?”
“It’s Lori.”
He wrapped his hand around his drink—and then let go of it. “Beat me to the punch, huh?” It came out sounding lazy and a little bit mean. Just how he felt right then—at least the mean part.
He heard her suck in a breath. Then she rattled off, as if she’d been rehearsing it, “Tucker, I’m fine now. I’m well enough to talk. And we do have to talk. We have to come to some sort of reasonable arrangement about Brody and the future and what we