Another Woman's Son. Anna Adams
last grains and then showed them to her. “Tony shared with you.”
“Is it in my hair, too?” But when she turned to let him search the brown strands, Tony grunted and tightened his legs.
“My Iz-bell, Daddy.”
“Aunt Iz-bell,” Ben said for maybe the billionth time.
“Uh-huh.” Tony nodded with vigor. “My Iz-bell.”
They had bigger problems. Someday Tony would grasp what aunt meant. “Okay, buddy. Let’s finish cleaning you both before your Iz-bell has to hose her self down.”
“No.” Tony resented even a paper towel coming between them. Ben had to laugh. Otherwise, his boy might tempt him to cry. “I told you he’s lost too many people lately.”
“Ben.” Without warning, Isabel put one arm around him.
She seemed too close. He couldn’t get enough air. What the hell had his voice betrayed? As his lungs screamed, he let her hold him, and he was almost as grateful as his son.
This was good, he told himself, even as he hated the devious path his thoughts took. She wouldn’t hug him if she didn’t feel attached. The more attached he made her feel, the safer he and Tony would be.
But he must have hugged back too tightly. Tony began to squeal, and Isabel laughed, moving away.
“I guess we needed that.” She picked up Tony’s bowl from the table and set it in the sink. “It’s been too long for all of us.”
Fighting remorse that was pointless, since he’d have used any innocent, unsuspecting soul to keep his son, he followed her to the sink. “More cereal.” He smoothed it out of her hair and ran the paper towel over his son’s face, to Tony’s squirming disgust. “And we’re all ready to go.”
“Go where?” Isabel asked. “I mean where are you and Tony going?”
“The park, if you don’t want our company.” He tossed the paper towel into the garbage can as the doorbell rang.
Isabel turned with a wary look that reminded him she really had been through the same experience that had changed his life. “I was surprised no one brought the traditional casseroles.”
“I asked them not to.” How else did a guy act when his wife died, leaving a brief, informative note about her affair? “I don’t know if she told anyone else the truth. Every time one of her friends shows up I’m afraid something will happen that makes me lose Tony.” He circled Isabel and his son, heading for the front door. “Those damn suitcases, for instance.”
“I know. I plan to repeat Mom’s theory about Will giving Faith and Tony a ride to her and Dad’s house.” Annoyance tightened Isabel’s voice.
“I’m glad you told me. It’s a better excuse than anything I came up with.”
“Have you considered a DNA test?” Isabel asked.
He turned back, bleak. “I won’t leave a trail of evidence that proves I have questions about Tony’s paternity, and Faith’s affair explains why my marriage had turned into an endurance test.” He looked miserable. “I can’t make myself prove my son belonged to another man.”
“He never will.”
Isabel’s desperate comfort provided little relief. He passed through the dining room where the table was still set for Faith’s next dinner party, and entered the hall. He reached for the door, wishing he could plaster a do-not-disturb sign to the other side.
George and Amelia were on the threshold, George taking a quick scan of the neighbors, Amelia clinging to his arm as if she might sink without his assistance. “You’re exhausted.” She was one to talk, with her grayish hair flying from a bun he’d guess she hadn’t repaired since yesterday. “I knew we shouldn’t leave you alone. You have too many memories in this house.” She peered over his shoulder. “Where are Tony and Isabel? Not awake yet?”
“It’s almost ten,” George said. “No kid sleeps this late. Have you eaten, Ben? We thought we’d take the family out for breakfast.”
“I’ll give Tony his bath and dress him for you, Ben,” Amelia said. “And maybe later we could take him to the park.”
“I’ve already dressed him. We painted the kitchen with cereal, and we’re headed to the park.” Aware he owed Isabel a random act of kindness here and there, he prepared the path for her to go her own way. “Except Isabel has some work to do at her house.”
“How is she this morning?” Amelia pushed past him. “Isabel?”
“In the kitchen, Mom.”
Her happy voice startled him.
“There she is.” Amelia rewrapped a striped scarf around her throat. “We’ll all visit the park. We’ll get a bite to eat and then work it off on the baby swings. I’d love some fresh air.”
“Are you nuts?” George took his wife’s arm. “In that skimpy overcoat, you’d freeze in minutes.”
“It gets colder than this in Philadelphia.”
“And you huddle by the fireplace every time it snows.” He nodded toward Ben. “You go. Amelia and I will say good morning to Isabel and then find ourselves some breakfast and a paper. We’ll bring something back. Maybe those doughnuts Tony likes.”
“You don’t have to leave because Tony and I are going out. Come on into the kitchen. I have coffee and a paper, George.”
“Don’t want to make a mess of your kitchen.” George prowled like a caged animal under his daughter’s roof. “We’ll see Isabel and then go our own way. Besides, Amelia likes her own copy of the crossword puzzle.”
“I never—” Amelia began, but George’s strange expression stopped her from finishing.
Ben closed his own eyes, swearing a blue streak in his head. Faith might have followed Will’s lead and told her father some god-awful story. Always a daddy’s girl, she wouldn’t have been able to run out on her marriage without trying to swing her father onto her side.
George often told his girls they were the best things that had ever happened to the world. According to Faith, he’d never been able to live with flaws, so she’d always tried to hide hers. George would have to convince himself Faith was blameless. Her affair, and then passing Tony off as Ben’s child. Her actions would have forced George to take sides between his two girls.
For Isabel’s sake as well as his own, Ben prayed he was wrong and Faith hadn’t found the guts to confess. “Isabel, your mom and dad are here.”
They found her with the top of Tony’s high chair up, wrestling him into his coat.
“I’ll do that. He hates it.”
“I used to know the tricks.” Isabel gave up and hugged both her parents. “Did you sleep well, Mom? You look tired.”
Ben concentrated on Tony, pulling up his hood and tying the laces in a bow. Tony pushed at his hands with his usual resistance.
“We slept fine.” Amelia backed away from her to study the room. “Isn’t this kitchen lovely? It could be a show home, Ben.”
Isabel leaned against the sink and he tried not to notice her white-knuckled grip on the granite counter. “It’s lovely,” she said with magnificent blandness.
“Amelia.” George pulled her close and kissed her temple. “You’re being tactless.”
“I’m not comparing you to your sister, Isabel.” Amelia breathed deep. “I’m looking for signs of Faith. I miss her so much.”
Isabel forgave immediately and hugged her mom again. “It’s all right. I do understand.” But her bleak expression told a different story.
Ben wished