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Eighteen months later:
Dave was in Tokyo, negotiating a business contract for one of his best clients. Now he stood at the front desk of his hotel, staring at the telegram in his hand.
No luck phoning you. Don and Jenny had a bad car accident. Come to California immediately. Dad
Numbly, he took the elevator to his room and dialed the number his father had included. When he finally heard his father’s voice, rough with pain, his stomach knotted further.
“Dave, I’ve been trying to reach you. Did you get my telegraph?”
“Yes. How bad is it?”
“Don’s gone. Jenny’s very bad.”
Dave closed his eyes against the rush of pain his father’s words brought. Don had had such a short few months to enjoy little Cory.
“And Cory?” he managed to ask, running a hand through his hair.
“Cory’s safe. Luckily, they’d left him at home with a babysitter.”
“Thank God for that, at least. What happened?”
“They were coming back from a weekend vacation in the mountains. It was sleeting, and the road was icy. Those mountain roads can be so dangerous in the best of weather. Somebody in another car saw them skid over the cliff. They didn’t have much of a chance.”
“God. Give me directions to the hotel and hospital. I’ll be there as soon as I can get a flight.”
With shaking hands, he wrote it down on the hotel pad, then hung up and phoned the airport. There was a flight out in an hour, but it was full. He agreed to standby and frantically threw his clothes in his suitcase, hoping to make that next flight out.
He phoned his client and gave him his regrets and explained the emergency. Then he took a cab to the airport. The next hours were only a blur: his frantic rush to the airport, buying the first ticket that would get him to California, standing in line over and over, desperately hoping to get a seat for the next leg home. He missed his connecting flight in Hawaii and sat down in the chairs near the gate to wait for the next, but didn’t dare let himself fall asleep for fear of missing the flight.
On the flight at last, he dozed on the long leg over the Pacific to California.
He couldn’t believe his twin was gone. He remembered the day Don had first come to visit him with his life-altering idea of Dave donating sperm for Don. Would either of them have considered it if they could have seen this in the future? He didn’t know. Maybe they would have done it anyway.
Amazingly, it had only taken two tries to get Jenny pregnant. He remembered how thrilled Don and Jenny had been at the news she was expecting.
Don had called him frequently, sounding happier than he had for years. Dave had felt a strange fascination with hearing the details of her pregnancy, the first time the baby moved, the due date, the names they’d chosen, their decision not to know the baby’s sex ahead of time.
Don had called him at midnight the night of the birth, ecstatic that they’d had a healthy, eight-pound boy. They named him Cory Donald. Dave had felt happy for them and more than a little envious, though since his divorce, he’d said a home and kids were not for him.
Well, at least Don had had those wonderful few months. Dave wiped away tears. Luckily the flight attendant had turned down the lights and most people on the long flight were asleep, so no one would notice.
* * * *
Late Sunday afternoon, Cathy Kassig was sitting at her easel, finishing the watercolor illustration for the children’s book she was working on when the phone rang.
With a sigh, she picked it up and heard her mother’s voice. “Cathy! Jenny and Don had a car accident. I’m at the hospital now.”
“Oh my God. How bad is it?”
“Very bad. Please come.”
Cathy’s heart pounded, and she tried to keep her voice even as she said, “Of course. Give me directions.”
As she wrote them down, she realized her hands were full of paint and she was in her old jeans.
Quickly she washed her hands, ran a brush through her long, unruly hair and threw on clean slacks and top. Grabbing her purse, she raced to her little red Chevrolet.
After battling traffic to the hospital, she took the elevator to the tenth floor as her mother had directed. She found her in the waiting room, in tears.
“Don’s gone,” her mother said brokenly, “and Jenny’s in surgery. They don’t know if she’ll make it yet.”
Cathy hugged her tightly and fought her own tears. “What happened?”
“The road was icy coming back from their weekend in the mountains. They didn’t make one of those hairpin curves.”
“And little Cory? Was he with them?”
Her mother shook her head. “They’d left him with the neighbor who usually babysits for them. I called the sitter. She said she’ll keep him for another day or so for us. Then we’ll have to take him for a while, I suppose.”
“I’ll take him,” Cathy said. “If you’ll help when I have to go downtown to work.”
Her mother nodded.
Cathy hugged her mom. “We’ll work it out until Jenny’s home again.”
Her father appeared with coffee from the machine. He looked shocked and uncertain, definitely unlike his usual take-charge self. He seemed suddenly old, and she realized his hair was getting thin and gray. She took the coffee.
“There’s paint on your shoes,” he said.
Cathy glanced down at her old sneakers and gave a little laugh. “Dad, you notice the oddest things at a time like this. I was working. I didn’t change them, I guess.”
He nodded and sat down in the chair.
The next day passed in a blur. They took turns getting some sleep and coming back to wait for news. Don’s parents arrived and went with her parents to make funeral arrangements for Don. Cathy sat numbly, trying to read in between short visits to Jenny’s room. Jenny lay in bed, pale and unresponsive. The sight kept Cathy’s stomach in knots of fear. The doctor said she had serious internal injuries and didn’t hold out much hope.
The next afternoon, the nurse said Jenny wanted to see her. When Cathy went into her room, Jenny was awake and seemed better, even managing a weak smile.
“Hi, Cathy,” she said softly. “I’m a bit of a mess.”
Cathy took her hand and leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Don’t worry about that. Just get well.”
Jenny shook her head. “No, Cathy. That’s not going to happen.”
“You have to get well, Jenny! Cory needs you.”
Jenny met her eyes. “That’s what I need to talk to you about. I want you to take care of Cory for me. Adopt him.”
“But, Jenny, you’ll be okay. Don’t talk like that.”
Jenny shook her head. “No, Cathy, I won’t. Listen to me. I had the nurse call our lawyer, and I talked to him. He’s gonna make it all legal and bring papers here for me to sign. Will you do it?” Jenny leaned up, trying to sit.
Cathy’s mouth went dry. Her adopt Cory? What did she know about babies? Of course, a few months ago, when she’d been engaged and Jenny was pregnant, she’d dreamed of having her own family too. But that went by the wayside along with her cheating fiancé. She couldn’t take Cory, could she?
“Just rest, Jenny. Of course I will take care of Cory, if anything happens to you.”
“Promise?” Jenny asked weakly.
She swallowed. She couldn’t let her sister down. “I promise, Jenny. But you’ll get well. You have to think positive,” Cathy said, trying to keep her voice even.
Jenny lay back against the pillow. Her face was almost as white as the pillow behind her dark head. “Thank you, Sis. I knew I could count on you.” She closed her eyes and went to sleep.
Cathy sat beside her for a while, then tiptoed out and went back to the empty waiting room, her stomach in knots.
Adoption meant forever. Adopt Cory? A six-month-old baby? She barely knew how to change a diaper! She’d taken care of him a few times, but keeping him for a few hours was a different thing from being his mother.
She stood at the waiting room window, twisting a dark curl and staring out at the traffic on the street below, and prayed harder than she ever had for her sister’s recovery.
* * * *
Dave Langer barely made it in time for Don’s funeral. The service was a blur. Jenny’s funeral followed within days, their burial side by side. His father and her family had seen to all the arrangements for both, and her sister, Cathy Kassig, was taking care of Cory.
Dave and his parents offered help, but the Kassigs coldly refused.
Dave got the irrational impression that, since Don was driving, they blamed him for the accident.
Feeling rejected and helpless, his parents and his sister Jody returned to Minnesota. Numb with shock, Dave stayed behind to do what needed to be done to settle their affairs. He sought out Mr. Anderson, Don’s lawyer.
Mr. Anderson was a heavy-set, affable middle-aged man who chain-smoked. He informed Dave that because Don had been killed instantly in the accident, but Jenny had lived long enough to call him and add a codicil to their earlier wills, her will stood. Jenny named her sister Cathy as executor and guardian of little Cory. Their earlier wills had each given total control of such things to the other.
Dave sat in that smoky office, staring at the lawyer in shock. He flushed in anger. “But Cory is my son.”
“What?”
The lawyer’s face was incredulous, and Dave realized Mr. Anderson thought he and Jenny had been intimate. Dave felt himself flush even darker.
He quickly explained, “Don’t get me wrong. Cory was conceived through artificial insemination. You see, Don was sterile and asked me to be the semen donor for him. We’re identical twins, so the baby would get the same genes from me as though Don had fathered him.”
Mr. Anderson frowned, dragged on his cigarette, and blew smoke at the ceiling. “Did Jenny know this?”
Dave swallowed and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “No. Don didn’t want to admit to her that he was sterile. He felt it made him less of a man.”
“I see. Well, if Jenny had known, she might have decided things differently. But I’m afraid it’s too late to change that now. You see, since Don died first, his will gave control of both his estate and his son to Jenny. She knew she had little time left and had every right to name whomever she wished to care for Cory.”
“But...”
“Unless you can prove fatherhood, by affidavit from the doctor who did the insemination? Then you might have a chance of contesting the sister’s right to custody in family court.”
Dave silently cursed his brother’s sneaky plan. He shook his head. “Don had me use his name and pretend to be him when I went to the clinic to donate sperm. He didn’t want Jenny to know.”
“How about DNA tests?” the lawyer asked, crushing out his cigarette.
Dave’s mouth twisted in a wry laugh. He rubbed his stiff neck, still sore from trying to sleep on the long plane ride from Tokyo, and explained, “We’re identical twins. As I said, the reason Don wanted me to do this was that our DNA is the same. Tests would only prove that either of us is the father, not which one.”
Mr. Anderson raised one salt and pepper brow. “Didn’t someone tell me your father was an attorney?”
“Yeah, he is.”
“Well, then it seems to me you’d have known you should have some legal agreement with Don covering this possibility. That would have avoided this problem.”
“We trusted each other. This particular ‘possibility’ never crossed our minds.”
The lawyer snorted. “Death is always a possibility, and plans for options in its event always should be made.”
“Yeah, I guess. But we didn’t. Hindsight is always better than foresight,” Dave said bitterly.
“Well, I’m sorry to say this, but I don’t see any other alternatives for you. You’ll have to depend on Cathy’s goodwill to see the boy.”
* * * *
Dave stopped to visit Cory at Jenny’s mother’s house. She watched him like a hawk, as though she was afraid he’d steal the boy from her arms.
“Cathy’s at work,” she said.
After she’d served him a cup of coffee and cookies, he dared to say, “I was thinking maybe I could adopt Cory. After all, Cathy’s alone and has a job. She won’t have all that much time to care for him.”
She stared at him with flashing blue eyes under her graying eyebrows and hair. “You? What do you, a bachelor, know about caring for a baby? Cory is better off with a woman to mother him.”
He couldn’t answer. After all, hadn’t his ex-fiancée told him the same thing before they’d broken up? ‘You’re not exactly father material,’ she’d said. Just as Jenny’s mother thought. They were probably right.
Numb with grief and not thinking clearly, Dave returned to Minnesota in defeat.
* * * *
Dave stood at the window of his Minneapolis high-rise architectural office, the place where this whole weird situation had started. Feeling frustrated, he ran his long fingers through his dark hair.
If only he could go back and change the past...but of course, he couldn’t. On second thought, he wouldn’t.
The upsetting letter from Cathy Kassig in his hand forgotten, he stared unseeingly at the IDS tower dominating the skyline.
His twin brother Don and Don’s wife Jenny had died in a horrible car accident six months ago, and now their son, his own flesh and blood, cute, dark-haired Cory, was in Jenny’s sister Cathy’s care. How had he let that happen? He should have charge of Cory. And he would, as soon as he figured out how to accomplish that.
Don and Jenny had also left Cathy their half of the Langer family’s lake home, and now Cathy wanted to sell it.
He couldn’t let her do that. It was the house where he and Don had played as children, where they used to swim and fish in the lake. He closed his eyes and remembered the delicious odor of hot dogs roasting over crackling bonfires on the shore, their happy laughter as they’d chased each other through the pine-scented woods.
His parents had vacationed at the cabin until they had retired to Florida and given it to their twin sons rather than caring for it themselves. It was a house full of wonderful memories, even though now those memories were painful because the twin he’d shared them with was gone forever.
He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. Don would never swim or boat at Sugar Lake with him again. Dave hadn’t gone there since the funeral.
Pulling himself out of his reverie, Dave lifted the letter in his hand and read it again.
Cathy had written:
Since the house is half yours, Dave, I need your permission to sell my half of it. You have first option to buy it, of course. I’ve lost my job here and can’t afford to keep it any longer. I need the money to live on until I can find another job that pays enough to live on here in L.A. I know the house has been empty a while, so I’m sure you’ll have no objection to selling it. Call me when you have an offer.
Like hell they were selling the family cabin. And he wasn’t owning it along with some stranger. He could buy her half, of course; in fact, he had first option to do so. For a long moment, he considered that solution.
But what if she didn’t find another job there? Soon the money from the house would be gone, and she and little Cory would have nothing. Why pay rent when she owned a house?
Why did she want to stay in California? Was she that strapped for cash? If so, why had she refused all help from the Langer family?
He knew so little about her. What did an illustrator do? What did she illustrate?
There was too much he didn’t know. He needed to talk to Cathy face-to-face to settle this. He could be in California in a few hours. It was high time he checked up on Cory anyway.
On impulse he went back to his desk. He sat in his leather chair, pressed the intercom, and told his secretary, “Get me on the first plane to Los Angeles.”
Stuffing Cathy’s letter into his pocket, he cleared his desk, grabbed his cell phone, and headed home to pack.
When he’d gotten home after Don and Jenny’s funeral, he’d given in to an urge to dig out his family picture album. He’d found a photo of him and Don when they were about a year old, almost Cory’s age now. They’d been cute and cuddly with baby fat and lots of dark, curly hair.
He’d put the snapshot in his billfold. It was a good one. He’d taken it to a photo shop and had it enlarged for his bedroom wall. It was easier to look at than Don and Jenny’s wedding picture. He’d had to put that one away. It was too painful to see every day. Men weren’t supposed to cry, no matter how much something hurt.
As he headed for the airport, he wondered if Cory resembled him and Don as babies. Well, he should soon find out. The last time he’d seen Cory, right after Don’s funeral, the baby had been almost bald.
* * * *
That evening, Dave stepped out of a cab in Los Angeles at the address on Cathy’s letter. He frowned at the white frame apartment building. It looked okay, but was not in the nicest neighborhood. He walked through the unlocked main door into a carpeted hallway. Poor security. He checked for her name on the row of mailboxes in the hallway. She was apparently on the second floor. He headed up the stairs and rang her doorbell.
After several rings, he heard a breathless, “Who is it?”
She was apparently checking him out through a peephole. Good. “Cathy Kassig?”
“Yes.”
“It’s Dave Langer.”
“Dave Langer?” There was astonishment in her tone. Silence, then the door opened and she eyed him before closing it again, releasing the chain and opening the door to allow him inside her living room. Her apartment was sparsely furnished, but neat and clean. He could smell freshly brewed coffee.
She was wearing jeans and a bright yellow sweater. Her long chestnut hair was tied back with a matching yellow tie. She eyed him with clear blue eyes as she closed the door.
“Hi, Cathy. How are you and Cory?”
“We’re fine.” She indicated an upholstered chair. “Would you like some coffee? I just made a fresh pot.”
He nodded, and she went to the kitchen area of the apartment and filled two mugs. “Cream or sugar?”
“Black is fine. Where is Cory?”
“He’s napping. We went to the park earlier.” She handed him one mug and sat on the worn blue sofa across from him. “What are you doing here? Did you get my letter?”
“Yes, I got your letter.” He tried to keep the anger out of his voice but didn’t succeed.
“Oh.” Cathy eyed him uncertainly. “I...I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon. Do you have an offer for the cabin already?”
“No.” He knew his voice was steely cold, but he couldn’t help it. He sipped the hot coffee.
“I...I don’t understand.”
“No, there’s not going to be an offer. We’re not selling the cabin.”
“But, Dave, I explained to you that I lost my job so I have to. I can’t afford to live on unemployment, and my folks aren’t able to help. They did say I could move back home, but I don’t want to do that.”
He could understand her not wanting to return to live with her parents. They hadn’t impressed him as easy to live with, the couple of times he’d met them. He rubbed his ear. “The cabin is not for sale. It’s been in the Langer family for many years.”
“I see. Will you or someone in your family buy my half, then?”
“We could. But then what would you do when the money’s gone?” As her dark brows dipped in a frown, he couldn’t help noticing they were the same color as her hair. So that gorgeous chestnut color must be natural, not out of a bottle.
Cathy said, “I should be able to find another job, soon. I have applications in with several places, but they are a longer commute, and I was hoping for something closer. In the meantime, I’m doing some freelance work.”
He watched her expressive face over the top of his mug. He wanted to shake her, but he had to curb his temper if he expected her to listen to him. She already seemed annoyed at his interference in her affairs, and he couldn’t blame her. Still, he felt he had to continue. “Will this freelance work pay your expenses?”
“No. At least not here. That’s why I need to sell the cabin. Surely you can understand that.”
“You are getting Don’s social security money for Cory?”
“Yes. That helps. But child care is expensive, you know.”
“I don’t have a money problem. I’d be happy to take Cory home with me.”
“Take Cory!” she gasped. “Never!”
He tried not to flinch at her vehement refusal. But he’d known it wouldn’t be that easy to get his son. Forcing calmness into his tone, he said, “Or I could send you support money for Cory.” He didn’t dare tell her Cory was his son, so he added, “He’s a Langer, and the Langers take care of their own.”
“No,” she said firmly. “Cory’s mine. Jenny left him with me, and I’ll take care of him without any Langer help. But right now I need to sell the cabin to raise some cash.”
Honestly, the woman was stubborn. Her jaw jutted, and her fists were clenched. Was Cathy afraid taking money from the Langer family would give them control over her? Or what? He tried another tack. “I’d rather you and Cory came to live in the cabin. That would cut your expenses drastically.”
She stared at him. “Move to Minnesota? But...it’s cold there, isn’t it?” Her voice sounded like he’d suggested she live in a slum.
He laughed and drank his coffee. “You’ve seen too many commercials. We only have snow and ice part of the year. Right now, everything’s green and growing like mad; the temperature was eighty-eight when I left this noon and I had the air conditioning on.”
Cathy bit her lip thoughtfully. “That sounds just like the weather here.”
“You’d like it. The cabin’s on Sugar Lake. It’s a quiet fishing lake, surrounded by green trees and nice homes. The air smells fresh and clean. There’s no traffic or smog.”
“It does sound inviting.”
Good. Her voice sounded envious. He pressed, “It’s empty and furnished, so you can move right in. Living expenses would be a lot less than in L.A., and it’s a better place to raise Cory.”
There was silence for a long moment. “But I don’t know anyone there. My family and friends are here.”
He frowned and turned in his chair impatiently. Did she want to stay near a boyfriend? “Are they helping to support you here?”
“Not financially, of course, but...”
“You have the Langer family in Minnesota. And it’ll be good for Cory to get to know our side of the family. We’ll help you get situated and acquainted.”
“But what would I do there?”
He tried to keep the irritation he felt at her words out of his voice. “Sugar Lake isn’t in the boonies. It’s only an hour from the Twin Cities. I’m sure you could find a similar job to yours in L.A. here, if you want. Or you could continue the freelance work you talked about. Then you wouldn’t have to worry about babysitters.”
“I...I’ll think about it.”
A loud wail came from the next room. Cathy bounced up and hurried towards it. Dave rose and followed her into the bedroom.
Cory stood in a crib, his curly dark hair matted with perspiration and his bottom lip quivering. Seeing her, he stopped crying and held out his arms to be picked up.
Cathy cooed and soothed him, and soon he was smiling. She hugged and kissed him, then eased him back down and changed his diaper.
Dave watched, feeling helpless. He hadn’t been around babies much. That was why he’d allowed her to care for Cory after the funeral. But he would learn if he got custody.
She picked Cory up. “Would you like to hold him?”
“Yes,” Dave said, reaching for the chubby little boy. The baby felt soft and yet solid in his arms. He smelled like baby powder. Awe surged in him. He was actually holding his son at last! Cory’s warm body wriggled in his arms, and Dave tightened his grip. “I can’t believe how big you’re getting,” he told him.
Cory eyed him as they walked back to the kitchen and she began fixing him some baby cereal. Dave met his gaze and grinned. The little boy grinned back, sending another ripple of pleasure along Dave’s nerve endings.
They chatted while she fed Cory, who was a pretty messy eater. He wanted to touch the cereal with his fingers and got more on his face than inside him. Cathy just laughed at his antics and then cleaned him up again. She talked baby talk to Cory without showing the least bit of embarrassment.
Dave held him again as they went back to the living room to chat. But she didn’t give him a definite answer on moving to Minnesota.
As he took his leave, he asked again. She said, “I’ll have to let you know, Dave. I need to think about this.”
“All right. Bye. Bye, Cory.” He sighed, reluctant to leave things up in the air.
But he had to let her decide.
