Jill added the eggs, oil and the prune mixture to the dry ingredients, then stirred until everything had blended together. Last she dumped in the nuts. After spooning the quick bread into the pan, she popped it in the oven and set the timer. As much as the boys complained about prune bread, they managed to devour nearly the whole loaf in one sitting every time she made it.
She glanced at the clock and saw she had a few minutes before she had to leave to pick up Danny at school. C.J. and Ben were both spending the afternoon with friends.
Jill walked through the family room, pausing to straighten a pile of magazines. The house was never in perfect order, but she didn’t mind. Better for everyone to be happy than the edges of the books lined up with the front of the shelf. Craig had wanted to keep the cleaning service, so she didn’t have to worry about scrubbing the bathrooms, but with five people in one house, there was plenty of other work to keep her busy. Especially now that Craig was home most evenings.
The last man who had been trying to cheat the elderly drivers had finally been arrested, and Craig was back on a regular schedule. He was home for dinner more often than not. At first it had been odd having him around, but she’d grown used to talking to him at the dinner table. They spent time with the boys, helping with homework, reading or playing games. She felt like a necessary part of a team. Which was odd because she and Craig were barely speaking to each other if they happened to be alone.
Other people made it safe. When the final arrest had been made, several of the senior citizens Craig had been trying to protect had invited him and his boys over for dinner. He’d brought Jill along. She’d loved the evening. She and Craig had sat next to each other and chatted. But as soon as they returned home and the boys went to bed, there was nothing to say.
She grabbed her purse from her bedroom and walked out into the garage. After pushing the garage door button, she waited for it to finish opening, then put the sport-utility vehicle into reverse and backed out.
The tension had started after their weekend in Glenwood three weeks ago. Neither of them wanted to talk about it. So they avoided the subject and each other. It was easier than facing the truth.
As she pulled up to the stop sign, she knew she had only herself to blame. Craig had wanted to talk about it. He’d wanted to consider the possibility that they might have a chance at a relationship, but Jill couldn’t do that. She couldn’t risk the pain. But even as she hid behind her fears, she wondered if Craig was right.
Had she chosen Aaron deliberately, knowing that it probably wouldn’t work? Had she kept a piece of herself back from him and the girls? Had it been easier to live in the pretend world than to risk finding and possibly losing real love?
She didn’t want to think that about herself. Everyone had failings, but no one liked to think about them. And to have Craig be the one pointing them out to her…She pressed on the gas and shuddered. Yet there was a part of her that knew he was right.
She was a smart woman. She had hidden the truth from herself. She’d gone into the marriage because it was easy and she’d stayed because it gave her an excuse not to try again.
She glanced in the rearview mirror, but instead of the car behind her, she saw only ugly truths. She gave so much to Aaron and the girls, but she gave because of what she wanted back, not because of what they needed. Oh, she cared about them. There were nights when missing the girls kept her up. But she rarely thought about Aaron.
The divorce had been painful to her pride, but losing her husband hadn’t touched her heart.
She pulled into the line of cars already waiting in front of the school. The children had just been let out and most came running toward the vehicles. A few paused to chat with friends until sharp honks reminded them that someone was waiting. Jill scanned the children, looking for Danny. She finally spotted the little boy walking slowly across the grass.
She frowned. Danny usually ran, skipped or jumped when he was going somewhere. Walking was too boring. As he approached, she opened the car door, then took his books and set them in the back seat. He reached for the seat belt without saying anything.
“Danny, do you feel all right?” she asked.
“I guess.”
She touched his forehead, then his cheeks. He didn’t feel warm. “Are you tired? Do you think you’re coming down with something?”
He shook his head.
She stared at him. He hadn’t really been himself for several days. Now that she was thinking about it, she’d been noticing odd things on and off for about a week.
“Is there a problem with your Pee-Wee team?”
“No. I’m doing good. I might get to play third base.” For a moment he smiled, and the Danny she knew returned. Then, just as quickly, his smile faded and he was gone.
“Your brothers are visiting friends this afternoon. It’s just going to be the two of us. What would you like to do?”
He shrugged. “Nothing.”
“I’ll help you with your hitting if you want,” she offered.
“No thanks.” He stared out the side window.
Not knowing what else to say, she started the car and drove home. Once there, Danny ate half a piece of still-warm prune bread, then completed his math sheet. He didn’t have any more homework, so he excused himself and went to his room.
Fifteen minutes later, Jill couldn’t stand it. She climbed the stairs, went to his closed door and knocked. “Danny, may I come in?”
“Okay.”
She opened the door and stepped inside. He was sitting in the center of his bed, hugging a ragged teddy bear. One of the animal’s ears was missing and the fur had been rubbed off its paws. Danny looked so alone and sad. She sank down next to him and gently drew him into her arms.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” she said.
He didn’t speak.
She rocked back and forth, holding him. He was small and slight. He continued to clutch at his bear. The sound of slow, steady breathing filled the room. She stroked his soft hair and waited.
Finally he sighed. “I’m not big enough,” he said softly.
“For what?”
“For everything.”
“You’re big enough to get dressed on your own. Big enough to eat. Big enough to go to school, to play ball, to watch TV. You’re big enough to get into trouble.”
He raised his head and looked at her. He wasn’t smiling. His light brown eyes were wide and filled with misery. “I’m not as big as C.J. and Ben.”
“But they’re older than you. You won’t be as big as them until you’re all grown up.”
He shook his head. “I’m smaller than they were.”
He slipped out of her embrace and started for the door. She followed. In the hallway, on a narrow section of wall next to the computer, were several horizontal lines with names next to them. She hadn’t noticed them before. They showed the boys’ heights at different ages.
“See,” he said, pointing. “There’s Ben when he was seven. C.J. was even taller.” He leaned against the wall. He was definitely a couple of inches shorter. “I’m going to be seven next month. I won’t grow enough in time to be as tall as them.”
Jill knelt on the carpet and pulled Danny close to her. “Honey, people grow at different rates. Look at your uncles and your dad. You’ll catch up. If not this year, then soon. Even if you don’t, it’s still all right. You don’t have to be tall. You’re wonderful just the way you are. Besides, didn’t we decide that the best things come in small packages?”
But Danny didn’t smile at her joke. He clung to her, sobbing as if his heart was broken. She held on, murmuring words of comfort, wondering why she ever thought she would be able to take this job and not get involved.
* * *
That night, after the boys were in bed, Jill asked Craig if she could speak with him. Evenings were the worst for the two of them. As soon as they were alone, the tension in the room climbed to an unbearable pitch. Usually they compensated by ignoring it. They were painfully polite in choosing television shows or movies to watch. Sometimes they just read, but that, too, was fraught with pitfalls. There was the choice of music, the volume, who used which lamp, the problem of chuckling at a funny part, then deciding whether or not to explain the humor.
Often, Jill sat staring unseeingly at the pages of her book, willing herself to find the courage to talk about what had happened between them. She kept thinking that if they could discuss the intimacy they’d shared, they would be able to find a new level of understanding. If they couldn’t be lovers, they could at least be friends.
The problem was, she wanted to be lovers. She hadn’t been able to think of anything else since they’d returned from Glenwood. Night after night she relived those wonderful hours with Craig. He was the kind of lover most women only dreamed about. Gentle, considerate, patient, and as much concerned about her pleasure as his own.
She kept remembering him telling her they could give the relationship a chance. Her fear got in the way of that one. So where did that leave them?
It would have been easier to forget everything if they hadn’t gotten along so well in the other areas of their lives. If they’d disagreed over how to discipline the boys, or if he’d hated her cooking or was dating someone. But none of that was true, which made pretending to be immune to him even more difficult.
“I need to talk to you about Danny,” she said, standing in the center of the family room. “If this is a good time?”
“Sure.” He put down the book he was reading and motioned for her to take a seat on the sofa.
She sat a couple of cushions away and angled toward him. The overhead light illuminated him clearly. She could see the faint gray at his temples, the stubble darkening his cheeks. His expression was politely interested. Not by even a flicker of a lash did he give away what he was really thinking.
Now that he was on a regular schedule, he changed out of his uniform when he got home from work. She’d finally grown used to seeing him in jeans and a shirt, although the sight of worn denim caressing his thighs still had the ability to make her heart race.
Tonight she ignored the soft, faded material and the way it hugged his muscles. She kept her attention on her hands.
“What about Danny?” he asked, prompting her.
“He hasn’t been himself for the past week or so.”
“I thought I noticed something. I asked him about it a couple of days ago, but he said he was fine.”
She glanced at him. “I didn’t realize you’d seen it, too.”
“I was going to mention it, but there wasn’t anything to say. I thought maybe I was imagining things. Obviously I’m not.”
“No. This afternoon he didn’t want to do anything. He just went in his room, sat on his bed and hugged his bear.”
Craig frowned. “I don’t like the sound of that. He’d practically relegated that to the closet. So what’s the problem?”
She smiled. “Actually it’s nothing to worry about. He showed me the wall by the computer where you keep track of the boys’ heights at different ages. He’s concerned that he’s shorter than both Ben and C.J. were when they turned seven. His birthday is only a few weeks away, and he knows he can’t catch up. I told him that everyone grows at different rates of speed. He’ll catch up eventually. I think he feels better now. He was more cheerful at dinner. But maybe you could talk to him and tell him he’s perfect the way he is. Maybe…” She trailed off.
Craig wasn’t paying attention to what she was saying anymore. He stared past her, eyebrows drawn together as if he were wrestling with a difficult problem. A muscle twitched in his cheek. Something dark and painful passed through his eyes.
“Damn,” he said softly. “I didn’t want it to come up like this.”
Cold fear rippled down Jill’s spine. “Like what? Craig, what’s wrong? Is he sick? Oh, God, he doesn’t have something wrong with him, does he?”
When he didn’t speak, she leaned forward and grasped his forearm. “Answer me, damn it. What’s wrong with Danny?”
Craig drew in a deep breath. “Nothing. He’s not sick. At least not that I know of. He’s fine.” He glanced down at her hand and touched the backs of her fingers. “I swear to you, Jill. It’s not that.”
Slowly she released him. Worry had formed a knot in the pit of her stomach. At his reassurance, it loosened a little, but didn’t go away. “Then what is it?”
“Can we please not talk about this?” he asked.
She stared at him, not sure how to answer. “If you prefer, but I’d like to help.”
“No one can help…. Hell, you might as well know the truth.”
He pulled free of her touch and looked straight ahead. He braced his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his hands. “I don’t know how tall Danny is going to be when he grows up. I don’t know what he’s going to look like or what he’s going to want to be. I don’t know anything about him.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Danny’s not my son.”
Jill stared at him, uncomprehending. Not his son? Danny? Little Danny with the big eyes and the smile that—The smile that didn’t look anything like his father’s.
“Wait a minute,” she said, half to herself. “That’s crazy. Sure he doesn’t look as much like you as the other two, but he has some of Krystal’s features. The shape of his eyes. If you adopted him—”
He straightened and shook his head. “We didn’t adopt him. He’s Krystal’s. He’s just not mine.”
She opened her mouth, but didn’t know what to say. Not his? That was crazy. “Then how did you get him?”
“I didn’t plan it, that’s for damn sure.” He leaned back against the sofa. If his hands hadn’t been curled into tight fists, she might have thought the telling didn’t affect him. But the white knuckles and straining tendons gave him away. She ached for him.
“Krystal and I had been separated, but still in the same house,” he said. “Not the best way to live or bring up kids. Ben was five, C.J. barely two. She didn’t bring her men home. I used to tell myself that was something. God, I was a fool.”
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
“Me, too.” He closed his eyes. “I told you before she’d been unfaithful from the beginning.”
“Yes.”
“Once we’d finally started talking about getting a divorce, she went wild. Coming in at all hours of the night, usually drunk. Men started calling here. I hated it and her. Then one night, she came on to me. I was immune by then, and she was furious. She finally blurted out she was pregnant and had planned to pass the kid off as mine. But when I wouldn’t cooperate, she was forced to tell me the truth.”
Jill shuddered. Craig’s pain filled the room. She wanted to comfort him the same way she’d comforted Danny earlier that afternoon. But Craig wasn’t a six-year-old boy. She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs.
“At first I thought she was going to have an abortion,” he continued, opening his eyes, but not looking at her. “She didn’t. I don’t know why, and I never bothered to ask. As her pregnancy started to show, she became less active, sexually, although she still went out at night.”
“You never asked who the father was?”
“No. I told her I didn’t care. In my heart, I was curious, and hurt, but I didn’t want her to know. She asked to stay until the baby was born, then she’d move out. She’d decided to give it up for adoption. I agreed. Ben and C.J. didn’t really understand what was going on. I tried to shield them from her as much as possible.”
He glanced at her and grimaced. “I couldn’t disconnect from her, though. When her time came, I drove her to the hospital, but instead of leaving I stayed. What a sucker I was. I hated her, but even she deserved someone there. Then they brought me this tiny baby and placed him in my arms. Krystal hadn’t bothered to make any arrangements. I saw her staring at me and then I knew. She’d planned it all along. She’d known I would take in her child. I never despised her more than I did at that moment. But I couldn’t blame the kid for what his mother had done.”
“You did the right thing,” she whispered, too stunned to do more than take in all that he was telling her. Danny wasn’t his. She couldn’t believe it. He’d never even given a hint. Of course, being Craig, he wouldn’t ever slight the boy. He’d had her convinced Danny was his favorite.
“I couldn’t let him go to strangers,” he said. “Besides, by then Krystal had explained her pregnancy to the boys. They were expecting a baby brother or sister. After she left the hospital, she got her things and that was it.”
Craig shifted uneasily on the sofa. He already regretted his confession. Jill was staring at him as if he’d just rescued an entire classroom of children from a burning building.
“I’m not a hero,” he said harshly. “Don’t start thinking I am.”
“What would you call it then?”
“Making the best of a bad situation. I did what any decent person would have done. Keeping Danny was the right decision. I didn’t trust Krystal to actually give him up. Do you know what that kid’s life would have been like with only her as a parent?”
“He would never have survived.”
“Exactly.”
The room was silent for a moment. Jill looked at him, studying him as if they’d just met. The lamp behind her made her red hair glow, as if touched by moonlight. Her delicate features were so different from Krystal’s obvious and flashy beauty. Why couldn’t he have fallen for someone like her instead of Krystal? Then he remembered the boys, and he knew that whatever his ex-wife had cost him, it was worth every payment because he had them.
“Are you going to tell Danny?” she asked.
“Maybe when he’s older. I know he already feels a little different. I don’t want that information weighing on him, as well. Besides, as far as I’m concerned, Danny is as much mine as Ben and C.J.”
“Do you know who—” She paused and shrugged. “You know.”
“No, I don’t know who his father is. Krystal said she didn’t know, either. I don’t know if she was lying, but it doesn’t matter now. When Danny was born, I had him tested for drug addiction and AIDS.” He swore. “I had myself tested, too. Just to be safe. Hell of a thing for a husband to have to do because his wife is a slut. Everything came back negative. I know we got lucky. The way Krystal was living her life, who knows what could have happened. But that’s over now.”
He was ashamed of his past and talking about it brought everything back. He just wanted to get away.
He rose to his feet. Jill stood up and moved close. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured.
“Don’t be. It’s done. We survived.”
“You did better than that.” She stared up at him. Tears clung to her lower lashes.
“Stop,” he said, touching his finger to the single tear that escaped. “It’s not that bad.”
“I can’t believe she did that to you. And her children. To walk away from them like that. Didn’t she know what a precious gift they are?”
“Appreciation was never one of Krystal’s best qualities. Besides, it’s over now. The boys are fine and I am, too. I’m going to make damn sure I’m never in that situation again.”
“Life doesn’t come with guarantees.”
“Maybe not, but next time I’m not taking any chances.”