The Child who Rescued Christmas

Jessica Matthews

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Praise

About the Author

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Copyright

Praise for Jessica Matthews:

‘With a rich backstory and an emotional reunion, readers are treated to a beautiful love story. It is heartwarming to see two people deeply in love get a second chance.’

—RT Book Reviews on SIX-WEEK MARRIAGE MIRACLE

About the Author

JESSICA MATTHEWS’S interest in medicine began at a young age, and she nourished it with medical stories and hospital-based television programmes. After a stint as a teenage candy-striper, she pursued a career as a clinical laboratory scientist. When not writing or on duty, she fills her day with countless family and school-related activities. Jessica lives in the central United States, with her husband, daughter and son.

Dear Reader

Have you ever made a mistake that you bitterly regretted—to the point where you wish you could turn back time and make a better choice? My hero, Cole, had such a moment in his life, and it eventually came back to haunt him. Naturally I had to create a heroine strong enough to bear up under the pressure, and the following pages are the result. And what better time to set a story about love and forgiveness, goodwill and peace, than at Christmas?

So, as you take time to enjoy the season, I hope Sara and Cole’s journey will touch your heart.

Happy reading!

Jessica

Dedication

To my family, especially my husband, whose support never wavers.

PROLOGUE

THIS day just kept getting better, Sara Wittman thought wryly as one of the morning headlines caught her eye.

Three people killed in medical helicopter crash.

She hated reading news like that—it was a horrible way to start her day—but morbid curiosity and a healthy dread drove her to read the few facts listed in the article.

En route from the University of Oklahoma Medical Center in Oklahoma City to Enid, the A-Star 350 helicopter went down in an open field thirty miles outside its destination for unknown reasons. The three people on board, pilot James Anderson of Dallas, Texas, Nurse Ruth Warren of Tulsa, Oklahoma, and Nurse Lilian Gomez of Norman, Oklahoma, died at the scene.

According to statements released by AirMed, the company that operates this flying medical service, the circumstances of the crash are still uncertain. The incident is under investigation by the Federal Aviation Administration and the National Transportation Safety Board.

As a nurse assigned to the medical-surgical floor of Nolan Heights Hospital, she occasionally cared for a patient who had to be flown to a tertiary care center for treatment and consequently had met the dedicated staff who flew those missions. Although Nolan Heights used a different company for their flying ambulance service, the men and women who specialized in providing that type of medicine were a special breed who’d garnered her respect. These people would be missed, not only by their families but also by the medical community as a whole.

“You’re looking rather glum this morning.” Cole, her husband of nearly three years, breezed into the kitchen wearing dark slacks and a rust-colored shirt—his usual attire for another busy day in his medical practice. He bussed her on the cheek before heading for the coffeemaker where she’d already poured a cup of the French roast she’d made strong enough to keep him running all morning.

She savored his husbandly peck before rattling the newspaper. “I was just reading about a medical helicopter crash in Oklahoma. Two nurses and the pilot were killed on the way to collect a patient.”

“That’s too bad,” he remarked as he sipped from his mug and slipped a slice of bread into the toaster. “No one we know, I hope.”

“No,” she said, “although one of the nurses is from your old stomping grounds.”

“Tulsa?”

“For being gone most of the night because of a patient, you’re remarkably sharp this morning,” she teased.

“It’s all done with smoke and mirrors,” he answered with a grin that after one year of dating, two years of living together and three years of marriage still jump-started her pulse every time. “But in answer to your question, Tulsa is a relatively large city. I didn’t know every kid in my grade, much less my entire school.”

“I suppose it would be surprising if you knew Ruth Warren.”

He visibly froze. “Ruth Warren?”

“Yeah,” she confirmed. “It doesn’t give her age, though.” Then, because the news had obviously startled him, she asked, “Did you know a Ruth Warren?”

“The one I knew was a schoolteacher,” he said slowly, his gaze speculative. “High school biology. Now that I think about it, she’d always talked about going into nursing. Maybe she finally did.”

“Then it could have been your friend.”

“I doubt it. Even if she did make a career change, the Ruth I knew was scared of heights. She’d always joked about how she’d never get on an airplane.”

“There must be two Ruth Warrens,” she guessed. “Both names are common enough and her surname could be her married name.”

“It’s possible,” he murmured thoughtfully.

“Regardless, I’m sure her family, and everyone else’s, is devastated.”

“Hmm.”

“And when a tragedy like this happens close to Christmas, it has to be even more difficult to handle,” she commented, imagining how the season would never again be the same for those left behind. In the blink of an eye for these families, the holiday had lost its inherent excitement.

“Hmm.”

Sara recognized his preoccupied tone. Certain his mind was already racing ahead to concentrate on the day’s hectic schedule, she said offhandedly, “It’s nice that we’re closing the hospital at noon today.”

“Yeah.”

He was definitely not paying attention. “And Administration is doubling everyone’s salaries.”

“That’s nice.” Suddenly, his gaze landed on her.

“What?”

“You weren’t listening to me, were you?” she teased.

A sheepish expression appeared on his face. “Apparently not. Sorry.”

“You’re forgiven,” she said lightly. “As long as you won’t forget our annual anniversary getaway.”

“I haven’t,” he assured her. “We have reservations for the weekend at the hotel in Bisbee, just as we decided, and we fly to Arizona on Thursday morning. It amazes me that you wanted to stay at that elevation and see snow when we’ll be seeing plenty of it soon enough,” he added in a mock grumble. “A sunny beach would have made more sense.”

“We did the sunny beach last year,” she pointed out. “This is different. Besides …” she gave him a sultry smile “… if we run into any of the resident ghosts that our hotel claims to have, we can bar ourselves in our room.”

He grinned. “I vote we do that anyway.”

As if on cue, Sara’s watch beeped with her five-minute warning. Without looking at the time, she drained her mug and placed it in the sink. “Gotta run or I’ll be late,” she said as she stopped to give him a goodbye kiss.

He threaded an arm around her waist and pulled her close, his solid warmth comforting. “Do we have plans for this evening?”

She thought a minute. “No, why?”

The playful expression she recognized appeared on his face. “I predict I’m going to need a nap when I get home.”

Ordinarily, the prospect would have thrilled her, but not today.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and make a baby tonight,” he murmured with a feral smile and a seductive voice.

If only that were possible …

“We won’t,” she said flatly. “As of a few days ago, I’m not pregnant. It’s the wrong time.”

Her husband’s appreciative gaze turned sympathetic. “Oh, honey. I’m sorry. Maybe next month.”

Next month. It always came down to next month. For the last year and a half, those words had become her mantra.

“Yeah, maybe.” Avoiding his gaze, she tried to pull out of his embrace, but he’d obviously heard the disappointment in her voice because he didn’t let her go.

“Hey.” His hand against the side of her face was gently reassuring. “It’ll happen. Just be patient.”

After all this time, her account holding that particular virtue was overdrawn. “I’m tired of being patient, Cole. We should see a different specialist.” She finally voiced what she’d been contemplating off and on for the last month. “Dr. Eller could refer us to—”

“Sara,” he chided, “Josh Eller is the best ob-gyn man in this part of the country. You know that.”

“Yes, but another doctor might have a different opinion. He might take a more aggressive approach.”

“A different doctor might,” he agreed, “but Josh hasn’t steered us wrong so far. You’ve gotten pregnant once. It’s only been nine months.”

Sadly, she’d miscarried within days after she’d learned she’d been expecting. Had she not been concerned about what she’d thought was a lingering stomach flu virus, she’d never have gone to the doctor, and when she’d miscarried, she would have attributed it to just another horrible period.

“But nothing’s happened since,” she protested. We should—”

“Be patient. Your body needs time to heal.” “Yes, but—”

“Josh said we should allow ourselves a year and we’re close to that,” he reminded her. “Life hasn’t been so bad with just the two of us, has it?”

While their relationship hadn’t sailed along on completely smooth seas—there’d been a brief ten days when they’d gone their separate ways because she’d despaired of him ever proposing and giving her the family and home life she wanted—she couldn’t complain. “No, but a baby is like the icing on the cake when two people love each other. It—”

He stopped her in midsentence. “A baby will come if and when he’s supposed to. You have to trust that Josh knows what he’s doing. If he says not to worry, then don’t.”

She’d wanted Cole to be as eager to grow their family as she was, and his attitude grated on her. Didn’t he understand how much she wanted this? Didn’t he see that each passing month chipped away at her confidence and self-esteem?

And yet she understood Cole’s propensity to maintain the status quo when it came to his personal life. Although he never said, she guessed that losing his parents at such an early age and the subsequent turmoil in his life had made him reluctant to modify an established routine. She didn’t necessarily like his behavior, but it was a part of his character and she accepted it.

“Look,” she began, “I know how difficult it is for you to change course when you’re happy with the path you’re on. After all, between dating and living together, it took you almost three years before you finally proposed, but you should be as excited about a baby as I am.”

“I am.”

“You don’t act like it,” she mumbled.

He raised an eyebrow. “Would wringing my hands and calling Josh every week, pestering him for information and advice, change things?”

He had a point. “No,” she conceded. “But I want you to want this as much as I do and I’m not getting that impression from you.” While she knew Cole was more reserved than most, she wanted to see a more enthusiastic response. “Sometimes I think you only agreed to have a baby to humor me.”

“Oh, Sara.” He patted her back as he hugged her. “I’ll admit that I’m not eager for our lives to change because I’m happy with just the two of us. But I’d be happy if you got pregnant, too. A little girl with your pixie nose would be cute. So, you see, I’m basically a happy kind of guy.” He winked.

His teasing tone defused her aggravation. “Oh, you.” She poked him playfully. “Pixie nose, indeed.”

“Seriously, Sara …” his gaze grew intent “… stressing out about the situation won’t help matters. Josh won’t steer us wrong.”

Her husband’s confidence soothed her frazzled nerves. Slowly, she nodded. “You’re right, he won’t.”

“Good girl.” He cupped her face with both hands and kissed her. “There’s no doubt in my mind that it’ll happen, so stop worrying. Before long, you’ll be complaining about morning sickness, swollen ankles and not being able to see your own feet.”

She offered a wan smile. “I guess. Now, I’d better run or I really will be late.”

After she’d left, bundled against the cold, Cole noticed how quiet the house seemed without his bubbly wife’s presence. He’d hated seeing her so downcast for those few minutes and he wished Sara would focus on what she had rather than what she didn’t have. She’d always made it plain that she wanted a large family—two boys and two girls—like the one she’d had growing up, and while the thought of being responsible for four children—four—was enough to scare him spitless, he’d been willing to patiently and thoroughly do his part to fulfill her dream. He grinned as he remembered the last time they’d made love. They’d started in the kitchen then detoured to their oversize soaker tub before ending up in bed.

He enjoyed nights like those—craved them, in fact—and he wasn’t in any particular hurry to lose them. Truth was, he liked having his wife to himself. The idea that he someday would have even fewer private moments with her than he did now only made him cherish those times all the more.

While he looked upon their inability to conceive as one of the temporary mountains of life some people had to face—and was, in fact, a little relieved because he’d had so little experience with a loving family—she saw it as a personal failure. She shouldn’t, of course, because they were only in the early stages of the process. She’d gotten pregnant within six months of when they’d stopped using any birth control and although she’d lost the baby, only another nine months had passed. Consequently, they’d never thought they’d needed fertility testing, although if nothing happened soon, they would.

And yet he truly did believe what he’d told her. Mother Nature simply needed time to work and Josh would decide on the proper time for medical science to intervene.

Content to leave the situation in his colleague’s capable hands, he sat down to polish off his toast and coffee. As he munched, he idly glanced at the newspaper his wife had discarded and the trepidation he’d felt when Sara had first mentioned the helicopter crash came back, full force.

Ruth Warren.

Surely the woman wasn’t the same Ruth Warren from his youth—the same Ruth Warren he’d spent time with a few years ago at his fifteen-year class reunion. The same class reunion when he’d drowned his sorrows with far too many margaritas because Sara had left him.

In spite of his reluctance to take the step she’d wanted—marriage—he’d come to his senses quickly. Accepting that his life would stretch ahead interminably without her, he’d proposed a week later. Sara had never pressed for details about his change of heart and he’d never offered them, except to say that he’d been miserable without her. Six months later, after Sara had planned her dream wedding, they had been married. Now, in a few more weeks, they’d celebrate their three-year anniversary.

Three years of the happiness and contentment he hadn’t felt since he was eight.

Suddenly, he had to know if the Ruth Warren mentioned in the article was the girl who’d often sat beside him at school because their names fell so close alphabetically. Now that he thought about it, hadn’t she mentioned during their reunion weekend that she’d turned her teaching certificate into a nurse’s diploma? To be honest, there was a lot about those two days he didn’t remember …

Determined to find an answer, he abandoned his coffee on his way to his office and powered up his computer. Minutes later, he’d found the online obituary at the Tulsa World website and scanned the details. Most, he already knew.

Age 33, preceded in death by her parents, attended the University of Oklahoma, earned a degree in secondary education and later in nursing before taking a position as a flight nurse.

Reading the facts suddenly made them seem familiar, as if she’d told him of her career change and he’d simply forgotten. He read on …

Survivors include a son, as well as many friends and former students.

She’d had a son? She hadn’t mentioned a child, but she’d never been one to share the details of her personal life. He was certain he’d asked about her life—it had been a reunion, after all—but he’d been too focused on his own misery to remember the things she’d told him. Idly, he wondered if the boy’s father was still in the picture. Probably not, if the man hadn’t received mention.

A graveside service will be held at 10:00 a.m. Wednesday at the Oaklawn Cemetery.

Cole leaned back in his chair and stared blankly at the screen. The description of Ruth’s life had been rather succinct, and certainly didn’t do justice to the young woman he remembered. She’d lived through a horrible childhood, carried enough baggage to fill a plane’s cargo hold and had a gift for defusing tense moments with a wisecrack, but she’d always been a great listener.

And now Ruth was gone. Of course, he hadn’t talked to her since that weekend, but now he wished he’d contacted her and told her that he’d taken her advice. He’d faced his demons and followed his heart. Now it was too late.

Then again, Ruth had probably known …

It was hard to believe that someone Cole’s own age, someone who should have lived another fifty years or so, someone with whom Cole had grown up with, was gone. Her death gave him a glimpse of his own mortality, and suddenly he wished he’d taken off the entire week to spend with Sara instead of just two days.

For an instant, he toyed with the idea of attending Ruth’s funeral, then decided against it. Depending on how old her son was, offering condolences would either be overwhelming or wouldn’t mean anything at this point. It would be better if he wrote a letter for the boy to read when he was ready—a letter telling him what a wonderful friend his mother had been.

And although he knew Ruth would never have mentioned their one-night stand to anyone even in passing, in one tiny corner of his heart he was relieved that now it would remain a secret for all eternity.

CHAPTER ONE

“WHAT do you say you run away with me this weekend?” Sebastian Lancaster asked Sara two days later as she straightened his bedsheets during her last patient round before her shift-change report. “I know this great little place for dancing. I could show you a few steps that will make your head spin.”

Sara smiled at her eighty-five-year-old patient who relied on a walker and wheezed with every breath, thanks to his years of habitual smoking. No doubt the only head that would spin with any sudden move would be his.

“No can do,” she said cheerfully, already anticipating her upcoming weekend away from the daily grind of hospitals, patients and housework. “I already have plans.”

“No problem.” He coughed. “What is it they say? Plans are made to be broken.”

“I think you’re referring to rules, not plans,” she corrected.

He waved a wrinkled, age-spotted hand. “Same difference. It’s been ages since I’ve tangoed and if I’m not mistaken, you’d be good at it. Got the legs for it.”

Knowing the elderly gentleman couldn’t see past his elbow, she let his comment about her legs slide. “I’ll bet you were quite the Fred Astaire in your day,” she commented, giving the top blanket a final pat.

“Oh, I was. My wife and I could have outshone these young whippersnappers on those celebrity dance shows. So whaddya say? Wanna spring me from this joint so we can take a spin?”

She laughed at his suitably hopeful expression, although they both knew she couldn’t fulfill his request. Between his emphysema and current bout of pneumonia, he was struggling to handle basic activities, much less add a strenuous activity like dancing. However, his physical limitations didn’t stop this perpetual flirt from practicing his pickup lines. Sara guessed his wife must have been adept at keeping his behavior in check, or else she’d turned a blind eye to his Romeo attitude.

“Sorry, but I’m already running away this weekend,” she told him, glancing at the drip rate of his IV. “With my husband, who just happens to be your doctor.”

He nodded matter-of-factly, as if not particularly disappointed by his failure. “Shoulda known. The pretty ones are always taken. Must say, though …” he stopped to cough “… that if Doc had the good sense to pick you out of the eligible women, then he’s got a good head on his shoulders.”

“I like to think so,” she said lightly, aware that her relationship with Cole had endured some dark days. However, in spite of the usual differences of opinion between people of diverse backgrounds and ideas, in spite of his initial reluctance to commit and in spite of her miscarriage nine months ago, life had been good.

“You two just going away for nothing better to do or for something special?”

“It’s our three-year anniversary,” she replied. “Actually, we still have a few weeks before the actual date, but this was the only weekend we could both get away.”

“Ah, then you’re still newlyweds. I’ll bet you’re eager to have your second honeymoon, even if it wasn’t that long ago since your first, eh?” He cackled at his joke before ending on a cough.

Sara smiled. “It’s always great to get away, honeymoon or not.”

She’d been looking forward to this weekend for a month now and could hardly wait. Cole, on the other hand, had been preoccupied the last few days, which had been somewhat surprising because he’d been as eager to stay in the haunted historic hotel as she was.

“Too much to do before I can leave with an easy conscience,” he’d said when she’d asked.

While that was probably true—as a hospitalist, he’d put in long hours to ensure the doctors covering his patients would find everything in order while he was gone—she had to wonder if something else wasn’t on his mind. Still, she was confident that once they shook the dust of Nolan Heights off their feet, he’d leave those worries behind. And if distance didn’t help, then the skimpy black lace negligee in her suitcase would.

“Well, go and have a good time,” Sebastian said. “If he takes you dancing, dance a slow one for me.” He winked one rheumy brown eye.

“I will,” she promised. “When I come back to work on Monday, if you’re still here, I’ll tell you all about it.”

“Do that,” he said before he closed his eyes, clearly spent from their short conversation.

Sara strode out of the room, her soft soles silent on the linoleum. She’d begun to chart her final notes for her patients when another nurse, Millie Brennan, joined her.

“How’s Mr. Lancaster this afternoon?”

Sara smiled at the twenty-six-year-old, somewhat jealous of her strawberry blond tresses when her own short hair was unremarkably brown. The only plus was that Sara’s curls were natural whereas Millie’s came from a bottle.

“As sassy as ever. Given his medical condition, it’s amazing how he can still flirt with us.”

“Wait until he feels better,” Millie said darkly. “Then he’ll grab and pinch. When he does, it’s a sign he’s ready to go back to his assisted living home.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Sara said.

“So,” Millie said in an obvious prelude to a change of subject, “are you packed and ready to go tomorrow?”

Sara smiled. “Almost. I just have to throw a few last-minute things into my bag and I’m ready. Cole, on the other hand, hasn’t started. I’m going to work on his suitcase as soon as I get home.”

Millie grinned. “Don’t forget to pack a swimsuit. And that teddy we bought a few weeks ago.”

“Those were the first things in the case,” Sara answered, already looking forward to modeling the lacy negligee under her husband’s admiring gaze. While most people thought they were going to enjoy ski slopes and mountain hikes, Sara had planned a far more private itinerary—an itinerary that focused only on the two of them.

“When are you leaving?” Millie asked.

“Our flight leaves early tomorrow morning. We’d thought about staying the night at one of the airport hotels, but it depends on Cole. You know how he is.” Sara added, “He can’t leave if he doesn’t have every i dotted when it comes to his patients.” She was convinced that was why everyone thought so highly of her husband—he didn’t cut corners for convenience’s sake.

She sighed. “Sometimes, his attention to detail is rather frustrating, especially when it interferes with our plans.”

“Yeah, but you love him anyway.”

Sara had half fallen in love with him the first day she’d met him, when he’d waltzed onto her floor as a first-year family medicine resident. She’d been suffering her own new-job jitters and he’d taken pity on her when she’d knocked a suture tray off the counter in obvious nervousness. The cup of coffee he’d subsequently bought her and the pep talk he’d delivered had marked the beginning of their professional and personal relationship.

“Yeah, I do,” she said, returning Millie’s grin with one of her own. “The only problem I have right now is knowing what to get him for Christmas. It’s still two months away, but it’ll be here before we know it.”

“Has he mentioned anything that he wants?”

“Lots of things, but afterward he goes out and buys them for himself. I’ve told him not to do that, but so far it hasn’t made an impression.”

“It will when he wakes up on Christmas morning and there’s nothing to open under the tree,” Millie predicted. “Or you could just fill a box with socks and underwear.”

“I could,” Sara agreed, “but I couldn’t be that cruel. I’m sure I’ll get an idea this weekend.”

“Well, good luck. As my mother always says, what do you get a man who has everything?”

What indeed? Sara thought. The one thing she’d wanted to give him—news that he’d be a father—wasn’t something she could accomplish on her own, no matter how hard she wished for her dream to come true. Having grown up with a sister and two brothers, she wanted her house to ring with the same pitter-patter of footsteps as her parents’ house had.

Be patient, Cole had reminded her. She’d try, she told herself. So what if it took them a little longer for their family to grow than she’d like? As long as it happened, as long as they loved each other, it would be worth the wait.

Fortunately, for the rest of her shift, she had little time to dwell on her personal plans, but the minute she left the hospital shortly after six o’clock, her thoughts raced ahead to her upcoming weekend.

Her excitement only grew when she found the lights blazing in their home and Cole’s SUV parked in the garage. Pleased that Cole had finished earlier than she’d expected, she dashed through the cold garage and into her cozy house.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” she called out to Cole from the mud room as she tugged off her gloves and hung her parka on a coat hook. “I honestly didn’t think you’d make it home before eight.”

He rose from his place at the table as she entered the kitchen and kissed her on the cheek. “Things turned out differently than we’d both anticipated,” he answered with a tight smile that, with his strained expression, set off her mental radar. “How about some coffee?”

He turned away to dump several sweetener packets into his own mug. “You never drink caffeine at this time of night,” she said as she watched his movements with a knot forming in her stomach. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s cold outside. How about hot tea instead?”

He was trying to distract her, which only meant that something was wrong. Horribly wrong. The knot tightened.

“Cole,” she warned. “I know it’s cold, but I’m not thirsty or hungry. Something is obviously on your mind. What is it?” As a thought occurred to her, she gasped. “Oh, no. We can’t go on our trip, can we? Something happened and Chris can’t cover for you at the hospital. Oh, Cole,” she finished on a wail. “Not again!”

“Sara,” he interrupted. “Stop jumping to conclusions. This isn’t about my schedule. Just. Sit. Down.”

She sat. With her hands clasped together in her lap, she waited. He sank onto the chair beside hers and carefully set his mug on the table. “An attorney spoke with me today.”

Dread skittered down her spine. A lawyer never visited a physician with good news. “Is someone suing the hospital? And you?”

“No, nothing like that. Mr. Maitland is a partner in a law firm based in Tulsa.”

“Tulsa?” Knowing he’d grown up in that area of Oklahoma, she asked, “Does this involve your relatives?”

“No.”

“Then what did he want with you?”

“Do you remember reading the newspaper article about the medical helicopter crash the other day?”

“Yes. We’d talked about one of the nurses. I can’t remember her name …”

“Ruth Warren,” he supplied.

“Yeah. What about the crash?”

“As it turns out, I did know this particular Ruth Warren. Quite well, in fact.”

His shock was understandable. She reached out to grab his hand, somewhat surprised by his cold fingers. “I’m sorry.”

“In high school, we were good friends, although I’ve only seen her once since then. At our class reunion a few years ago.”

She furrowed her brow in thought. “You never mentioned a class reunion. When was this?”

“Remember those ten days in July, after you and I had broken up?”

“Yes,” she said cautiously.

“During that time, I went to my class reunion. It was over the Fourth of July weekend, and I didn’t have anything else to do, so I went.”

“Really? Knowing how you’ve avoided going back to the area so you can’t accidentally run into your relatives, I’m surprised.”

“Yeah, well, it was a spur-of-the-moment decision,” he said wryly. “Anyway, during that weekend, I met up with Ruth.”

She touched his hand. “I’m glad you had a chance to reconnect with her after high school. Had you heard from her since then?”

“No. Not a word.”

Sara had assumed as much because Cole had never mentioned her, but he was a closemouthed individual and often didn’t mention those things he considered insignificant.

“Then what did the lawyer want?”

“He represents Ruth’s estate. She named me, us, in her will.”

Sara sat back in her chair, surprised. “She did? What did she do? Leave you her box of high school memorabilia?”

She’d expected her joke to make him smile, but it fell flat, which struck her as odd.

“She left us something more valuable than a box of dried corsages and school programs,” he said evenly. “She entrusted the most important thing she had to us. Her son.”

“Her son?” Of all the things he might have said, nothing was as shocking as this. “How old is he?”

“He’s two and a half. His birthday was in April. April 2.”

Surprise and shock gave way to excitement. “Oh, Cole,” she said, reaching across the table to once again take his hand, her heart twisting at the thought of that motherless little boy. “He’s practically a baby.”

As she pondered the situation, she began to wonder why this woman had chosen them out of all the people she possibly could have known.

“Exactly why did she appoint us as his guardians? She never met me and you said yourself that you hadn’t kept in contact with her. What about the boy’s dad? Or her family? Didn’t she have friends who were closer to her than you are? I’m not complaining, mind you. I’m only trying to understand why she gave him to people who are, for all intents and purposes, relative strangers, instead of choosing substitute parents who were within her current circle of friends.”

“She had no family to speak of,” he told her. “Ruth grew up in foster care and as soon as she graduated, she was on her own.”

“If you hadn’t seen her for three years, it’s especially odd she’d ask us to take care of him. There has to be a connection—”

“There is,” he said, clutching his mug with both hands. “But to explain it, I have something to confess.”

Once again, warning bells clanged. “Okay,” she said slowly.

“Ruth and I—that weekend we were together at the reunion …” he drew a deep breath as if bracing himself “… I did a stupid thing. Several stupid things, in fact. I was angry that you weren’t satisfied with our relationship as it was—”

“Just living together,” she interjected for clarification.

He nodded. “I was hurt that after all those years of being a couple, you wouldn’t be satisfied or happy until I put a ring on your finger.”

“Oh, Cole,” she said, disappointed that he hadn’t fully understood why she’d pressed him to take their relationship to the next level. “It wasn’t about flashing a gold band or a huge diamond. It was what the ring represented—a commitment to spend the rest of our lives together.”

“I realized that. Later. But during that first week we were apart, while I was angry and hurt and feeling everything in between, I went to my reunion and …” he took another deep breath “… drank a few too many margaritas. A lot too many.” He paused.

She was surprised to learn that Cole—a man who couldn’t even be classified as a moderate drinker—had over-imbibed. While she wasn’t condoning his action, she figured most people had done so at one time or another. His actions weren’t smart or ideal, but drinking too much on one occasion wasn’t an unforgivable offense, in her opinion, even if at the time he’d been old enough to know better.

“And?” she coaxed.

“When I saw Ruth again—we confided a lot in each other during our teen years—we talked. We both unloaded on each other and she helped me admit a few hard truths—”

“Do you mean to say that your friend Ruth convinced you to propose?” She’d always believed that he’d come to that conclusion on his own. It was disappointing to imagine that he’d been persuaded to marry her not because he loved her but because of a relative stranger’s advice.

“Ruth didn’t convince me to do anything,” he insisted. “She pointed out what I already knew but couldn’t quite admit—that I loved you and couldn’t imagine my life without you—which was why I was so angry and hurt and miserable. And if I loved you, then I had to face my fears and propose.”

Fears? He’d been afraid?

“Wait a minute.” She held up her hands to forestall him so she could sort through his confession. “You’d always said that you wouldn’t marry until you were ready, but now I learn that you were scared? Why didn’t you explain? We could have discussed this.”

“If you’ll recall, we’d tried, but the conversation deteriorated and you walked out.”

She wanted to protest that he could have stopped her, or that he could have called, or he could have done any number of things, but placing blame at this date was silly.

“Okay,” she said evenly, “both of us could have done things differently, but truly, Cole, what were you afraid of?”

“That I couldn’t be the husband you wanted or needed. That our relationship would change. We were doing great just living together and I had this … this fear … that marriage might ruin what we had.”

“How was that possible?” she asked, incredulous. “We’d been living together for two years and dated for a year prior to that. How did you think marriage would ruin—?”

“You forget that the last functional family relationship I was in ended when I was eight. What did I know about how a healthy marriage should be? By the time I started college, I didn’t know if the happy home I remembered was real or make-believe. Do you really wonder why I might be afraid our relationship would change, and not for the better? And when it did, both of us would be stuck in an untenable situation.”

She fell silent as she processed the information. “Okay, I can respect that, but you obviously faced your fears because you found me at my friend’s house and proposed.” It bothered her to think that he could discuss his fears with a woman he hadn’t seen in years instead of with her, but there was little she could do about it now. She only hoped he wouldn’t tell her that at the time asking her to marry him had simply been the lesser of two evils.

“Proposing—marrying you—was the best decision I ever made. Don’t ever forget that.”

His vehemence both surprised and alarmed her. “Okay,” she said warily. “But meanwhile you had your heart-to-heart with Ruth and because you two drowned your sorrows together, she wanted you to raise her child if something happened to her.”

He visibly winced and avoided her gaze. “Unfortunately, we did more than talk and drown our sorrows.”

The bottom dropped out of her stomach. “Oh, Cole. Please don’t tell me that you—That you and this high school friend …”

He nodded, his expression grave. “We slept together. We didn’t plan it, I swear. I didn’t even know she was going to be at the reunion. The combination of everything from my insecurities and alcohol level to Ruth needing her own listening ear all coalesced until events just … happened. I’ve never done anything like that before or since and I regretted it right away. You have to believe me.”

A part of her brain heard his near-desperation, but she was still too numbed by his newest revelation to grant him absolution.

“You should have told me,” she said as her whole body seemed to turn into ice. “We should have had this conversation as soon as you rolled back into town. About your doubts and your … and Ruth.”

“I couldn’t,” he admitted. “I was too embarrassed and ashamed. I didn’t go to my reunion intending to do anything but meet with old friends. After my lapse in judgment—” his voice was rueful “—I knew this news would be devastating and even though we technically weren’t a couple at the time it happened, I couldn’t risk my mistake potentially destroying our future.”

Would she have refused to marry him if she’d known he’d slept with another woman? Knowing how devastated she’d been at the time he’d stormed out after their argument, hearing that would have probably convinced her to count her blessings that he’d walked away.

At this point, however, she didn’t know for certain what she might have done. She might only have extended their engagement until she’d been fully persuaded that he hadn’t entertained second thoughts about marriage, but one truth remained undeniable. He’d taken away her opportunity to choose.

“I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am,” he added. “If I could turn back the clock and live that night over, I would.”

His remorse seemed genuine, but it did little to ease her sense of betrayal. “Sorry that it happened or sorry that you told me?”

He didn’t have to explain, her little voice pointed out. He could have simply let the story stand that they were old friends who’d reconnected during a class reunion. You’d still never know …

“There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t feel regret for my actions,” he said, meeting her gaze. “That’s something I have to live with for the rest of my life.”

The pain in his eyes wasn’t feigned; she recognized that. Unfortunately, his revelation made her question so many things. Had he really wanted to marry her, or had he only asked her because he’d found his courage in the bottom of a bottle?

How many other secrets had he kept from her? He probably had many, because there were so many personal topics he refused to discuss.

And yet, technically, they had severed their relationship, which meant he hadn’t been required to answer to her. No vows had been broken at the time he and Ruth …

But it still hurt to know that he’d fallen into bed with another woman so quickly. Granted, the alcohol and his own anger had contributed to his decision, but still …

Although the truth weighed heavily, she had to give credit where it was due. He’d been a faithful husband for the past three years and he’d been honest when he could have kept this secret forever and no one would have ever known. Yet he’d taken the risk and apologized profusely rather than simply brush off the incident.

Emotionally, she wanted to bristle and remain angry, but logically the incident was over and done with. Walking away from him because of one relatively ancient mistake committed when they’d been separated suggested her love must be terribly shallow if she couldn’t forgive and forget.

“Sara?” he asked tentatively.

She exhaled a long, drawn-out sigh and offered a tremulous smile. “As disappointed as I am, as betrayed as I feel, even though some would say I shouldn’t, I can’t change the past. We’ll leave it there, shall we?”

“Unfortunately, there’s more,” he said.

“More?” she asked, incredulous. “What more can there be? Isn’t this friendship you had—” she chose that word instead of “affair” because she didn’t know if a one-night stand fit the true definition “—the reason why she wanted you to look after her child?”

He didn’t answer at first. “Sara,” he said softly, “Brody is thirty months old. His second birthday came during the first part of April.”

“Yes, you already told me.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Do the math.”

She did. Then, with a sinking heart, she knew. The apology on his face confirmed it.

“Oh. My. God. He’s your son, too.”

If Sara’s face had revealed her shock before, now Cole only saw horror. From her sudden intake of breath, the oxygen in the room had vanished with the news, just as it had when Parker Maitland had delivered the same bombshell to him a few hours ago. This news had knocked his world off its axis, just as it had for his wife.

Eternity had only lasted forty-eight hours.

An unholy dread had filled him from that moment on because he would have to explain the inexplicable to Sara. His confession had crushed her, just as he’d suspected it would, and, just as he’d feared, the light in her eyes had faded. Already she stared at him as if he’d become someone she didn’t know.

How ironic to be in this position. After spending his entire life always weighing his options and plotting his course carefully to avoid potential pitfalls, the one time he’d acted impulsively would haunt him for ever.

Oh, he could have ended this earlier without Sara ever being the wiser. He could have told the lawyer that he didn’t want to raise Ruth’s son—and his—and all this would have vanished like morning mist on a hot summer day. Yet he couldn’t build one lie upon another, no matter how enticing the idea was. Untruths always had a tendency to be revealed.

“You had a baby with this Ruth person.”

She sounded dazed, much as he had when he’d heard the news. “Apparently so.”

“Are you certain? I mean, if she slept with you at your reunion, she might have spent time with someone else, too.”

Her faith in him was bittersweet and only made him feel worse than he already did. He, too, had posed the question, hoping there’d been some misunderstanding, but the possibility had died an instant death after Maitland had presented him with undeniable proof.

“She didn’t,” he assured her, hating to destroy her hopes but understanding how the possibility was a lifeline for her to grab—a lifeline that their life wouldn’t be turned upside down so easily. “Maitland gave me a picture of the boy. There’s a strong … family resemblance.”

It was more than a resemblance. The phrase “chip off the old block” came to mind. If he compared photos of himself at that age, he’d think his image had been cut and pasted into a scene from today.

“And she wants you to look after her—your—child.”

From past experience, Cole knew that Sara’s reserved tone was merely a smoke screen, especially given the words she’d chosen. Her. Your child. Underneath her deadly calm was a churning cauldron of emotions held in check by sheer force of will. Cole would have rather seen her yell, scream or throw things, instead of seeing her so controlled.

“She wants us to look after him,” he corrected. “She wanted Brody to have two parents, not one.”

As she sat frozen, Cole hastened to continue. “Apparently, Ruth knew the situation would be … difficult … which was why she left a letter for you to read.”

He dug in the manila envelope Maitland had given him and placed the small sealed white envelope that bore Sara’s name in front of her. Next to it, he positioned Brody’s photograph so that those impish dark brown eyes were facing her.

Sara didn’t move to accept the envelope or glance at the picture.

“Ruth rightly believed you would play an important role in Brody’s upbringing, which is why she stipulated that you also had to agree to take him.”

“And if I don’t?”

He paused, torn between wanting her to refuse and hoping she’d accept the challenge ahead of them. “Then the search will begin for different parents,” he said evenly. “According to Maitland, Ruth hoped that wouldn’t happen.

He and his wife, Eloise, were Ruth’s neighbors and they knew how much she worried about Brody going into the same foster-care system she had.”

“If they knew Ruth so well, why didn’t she appoint them as his substitute parents?”

“Parker is sixty-nine and Eloise is sixty-seven. As much as they love Brody, it isn’t feasible for them to parent a child at their age.” Parker had told him that he and Ruth had discussed this scenario and they’d both agreed that Brody needed younger parents who would conceivably give him siblings as well as live long enough to see him through high school and college.

“Where is he now?”

“He’s with Maitland and his wife at a hotel.” He paused. “Parker invited us to stop by at our convenience tonight. However, he did mention that Brody usually goes to bed at eight and with all the commotion of the past few days, he’s been a little cranky if he stays up later than that.”

The silence in the room became deafening and Cole watched helplessly as Sara rubbed her forehead with a shaky hand. “I don’t know what to say,” she murmured. “I’m tempted to believe I’m dreaming, that this is just an elaborate hoax or a misunderstanding.”

“I know how you feel, but this …” he fingered the photo “… proves otherwise.”

He stared at the snapshot lying on the table, picking out the facial features that seemed to be carbon copies of his own—coal-black hair, dimples, a straight nose and lopsided grin. Yet, even with the proof before him, he was still hardly able to accept that he had a son.

A son.

While he’d been willing to add to their family—someday in the future—knowing he had a son now was mind-boggling. It was one thing to feel guilty about his one-night stand, but quite another to know a child had resulted. He didn’t know if he felt happy or sad, disappointed or excited, but he’d sort through those emotions later. At this moment, the reality had to be addressed, which was, namely, would they accept Brody into their home, or would Brody enter the same state-run children’s services that Ruth had loathed?

He simply couldn’t go against Ruth’s wishes, but her way was filled with pitfalls. Having grown up in a situation where he hadn’t been wanted, he’d always vowed to keep some sort of “escape clause” in his relationships, which was why he’d had so much trouble making a commitment to Sara. But now, if he accepted Ruth’s child, his son, there would be no escape. If he intended to do this, he had to do so with the intent of being in it for the long haul.

This, at least, was the same decision he’d made before he’d proposed. And that had worked out, hadn’t it? he told himself.

Or, it had, until he’d lost all common sense on that long-ago night.

He wanted to scream at the fates for putting him in this position, but what was done was done. There was only one way to escape this time, but as he glanced at Brody’s photo, the idea didn’t appeal as much as it might have. After all, if he’d been willing to face his fears and have a baby with Sara, how was this any different?

There was a big difference, he thought tiredly. Sara was his wife and she’d stand beside him, helping him, guiding him along the right path, correcting his mistakes. Now the question was, would she stay with him or not? Would he lose his son and his wife?

He studied her, wishing she’d say or do something rather than remain locked in icy calm. If only they had time to come to terms with the situation and what it meant to them as a couple, but time was a luxury they didn’t have.

“Sara?” he asked tentatively. “We have to make a decision.”

“Right now?” She sounded horrified.

“Maybe not this instant,” he conceded, “but definitely within the next twenty-four hours. Brody’s future has to be settled, one way or another. Keeping him in limbo isn’t in his best interests.”

He’d wondered if the prospect of having the baby she’d wanted would overshadow its origins, but she clearly hadn’t reached that level of acceptance yet. He understood. He was still stunned and he’d felt the bombshell several hours earlier.

She nodded, almost absentmindedly.

Thinking that Sara would benefit from seeing Ruth’s wishes in black and white, he pulled a copy of the will out of the manila envelope and flipped to the pages in question.

“Ruth had arranged for all of her assets to be placed into a trust fund for Brody and she named us as the trustees. She didn’t want finances to factor in to our decision, so she left a modest nest egg for his care.”

Not that he intended to tap into it if they chose to raise him. After all, Brody was his son, and his responsibility.

“There are a few personal things she asked that we keep for him, heirlooms if you will. Everything else will be sold.”

“I see.”

“She also asked that we legally adopt him so he carries our surname rather than hers.”

“She thought of everything, didn’t she?” she said wryly.

“I’m sure she and her legal counsel tried to cover every contingency.”

“Did she have a plan if we decided not to raise her child?”

Cole’s cautious optimism fell as Sara asked this same question for a second time, as if she wanted to be sure she had other options.

“As I said earlier, Ruth had hoped you wouldn’t make that choice.”

“Did she make a plan B?” Sara pressed on, as if through gritted teeth.

Cole sighed. “She did. Brody will become a ward of the state and will be eligible for adoption by another couple.”

In that instant, he knew he was facing an untenable situation. Ruth had guessed correctly that he wouldn’t be able to easily give up his son, but if Sara wasn’t in favor of keeping him, he’d be forced to choose between his wife and a boy he’d just learned was his. Neither was a palatable option.

Still, he wanted to think positive …

She frowned. “Wouldn’t you have to relinquish your rights if you’re his father?”

He’d wondered if she would have realized that. While everything within him fought that idea, the letter Ruth had left for his eyes only had requested him to do just that if Sara wouldn’t agree to her terms.

I know how difficult this would be for you, Ruth had written, but you know far better than I how much harder Brody’s life would be to live in a home where one parental figure didn’t want him …

He might not want to sign those documents, and his decision would haunt him if he did, but he’d do it, for Brody’s sake. “Yes,” he said simply, hating the mere notion of it.

“I would.”

And he’d regret it for the rest of his life. She paused. The wrinkle between her eyebrows suggested she was weighing her options. “And if we take him?” she finally asked. “What then?”

A spark of optimism flared. “Then, starting tomorrow, he’ll spend time with us. The Maitlands will stay in town for a few days to ease his transition but they can’t stay longer because they have family commitments of their own.”

“That’s it? He just moves in?”

“More or less. There are several legal details to take care of during the next few days and weeks but, to be honest, I can’t remember what Maitland told me they were. As soon as we come to an agreement, they’ll arrange for the personal belongings to be shipped here.”

“But all of this hinges on our decision.”

As far as he was concerned, there wasn’t a decision to make. The thought of committing himself to the responsibility of another human being who would depend upon him for years to come might send a cold shiver down his spine—a fact that Ruth had known full well—but he couldn’t deny her request, not just because Brody was his own son but because it was time to face his fears.

Unfortunately, the decision wasn’t completely his to make.

It was ironic to think that Sara would have jumped for joy at taking in Brody had someone else fathered him. Unfortunately, Brody’s presence would not only be a visual and constant reminder of his error in judgment but also that she’d lost her own child. The only question was, could she look past those reminders or not?

“Yes,” he answered simply, threading his fingers together in a white-knuckled grip. “Keep in mind he has nowhere else to go.”

She met his gaze. “That’s not fair, Cole. Don’t play on my sympathies to get what you obviously want.”

“I’m only stating a fact.”

Slowly, she rose, leaving the photo on the table. “I won’t apologize for needing time.”

“Okay,” he conceded, “but—”

She held up her hands. “I can’t rush into a decision without thinking this through. The thing is, whatever we—I—decide to do about your son, our lives will never be the same.”

As if he needed to be reminded … He was damned if he did, and damned if he didn’t. Sara must have come to the same realization, too.

Suddenly, holding a person’s life in his hands, medically speaking, seemed like less of a minefield than the situation looming ahead of him. Although he’d mentioned a twenty-four-hour deadline, somehow he sensed that announcing the Maitlands were expecting a decision by tomorrow morning wouldn’t be well received.

He watched helplessly as she walked out of the room.

As he sat alone, he thought about how he’d enjoyed almost three years of blissful ignorance. Ruth should have told him and the fact she hadn’t angered him. He had deserved to know, damn it!

Like Sara deserved to know? his little voice asked. You wanted to protect your relationship with Sara, so maybe Ruth was doing the same for you …

He sighed as he recognized the truth. Ruth’s silence had provided a simpler solution to their dilemma. She’d known how crazily in love he’d been with Sara and breaking the news would have driven a wedge into his new marriage. Not only that, Ruth would have had to share Brody with him because as unprepared as he felt about fatherhood, he would have insisted on knowing his own son, even if he’d been a long-distance parent.

The idea that he might never have known about Brody if Ruth hadn’t died didn’t set well and was too close to his own situation for comfort. His only aunt and uncle hadn’t bothered to make contact with him until he was eight, when circumstances had forced them to do so. While Brody’s fate was still undecided, he certainly wouldn’t ignore the boy in the meantime.

Idly, he wondered if this one subtle difference proved that his fears of repeating his relatives’ dysfunctional behavior were unfounded. Of course, wanting to meet Brody was hardly enough evidence to make a case, but it was a difference that he could think about and consider. In the meantime, he had more pressing concerns.

The clock on the microwave showed six-thirty. Had only thirty minutes passed since he’d broken the news to Sara? Thirty minutes since he’d shattered his wife’s faith in him?

He glanced at the sealed envelope on the table before focusing on the photo of his son. His son. A living, breathing product of his own DNA, a continuation of the Wittman family tree.

The same awed thoughts had bombarded him after Sara had announced her pregnancy but this time the feelings were a little different. Now he had a name and face whereas before the only tangible evidence of his child had been a number on her lab report. Before he’d had time to dream big dreams, to imagine a little boy or girl with Sara’s beautiful eyes and his crooked smile, or to work through his reservations about being a parent, Sara had miscarried.

Brody, however, was here. In the flesh. Already walking and talking with a personality of his own.

Suddenly, the past two-plus years of ignorant bliss were far too long. He wanted to meet his son tonight, regardless of the hour or how cranky he might be. Waiting until tomorrow seemed like an eternity.

As he heard a loud thump coming from the direction of their bedroom, however, his eagerness faded. Meeting a child he might never be able to claim as his own could easily be a prelude to heartache.

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