The Lawman's Secret Son. Lorraine Beatty
“Carrie.”
Jack ran after her, grabbing on to her hand for dear life. She looked down into his frightened eyes and her heart broke. “Oh, Jack. It’ll be all right. I promise.” She glanced up at Seth, who had stepped to the edge of the porch. The look on his face tugged at her heart, too. It was an unusual mixture of concern, longing and fear. Maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe he didn’t know about Jack. As she considered the possibility, Seth came and stooped down with them.
“Hey, Jack. Why don’t we all go inside and get warm, huh?”
With only a hint of hesitancy, Seth gently touched the child’s head before looking at Carrie with a pleading look in his eyes. It was the last thing she wanted to do, but she couldn’t simply turn the child over to the man without making sure Jack was okay. But she shouldn’t get involved. Her emotions were too easily captured by the abandoned and abused. She would have to keep her emotional guard up. She nodded and stood, holding on to the tiny hand. It hit her that she was looking to the child for strength when it should be the other way around. At the threshold Carrie stopped, sending a quick prayer heavenward for strength, because she had a feeling stepping into Seth’s home would set her on a path she’d avoided most of her life. Jack looked up at her with soulful eyes.
She’d be strong for Jack because no one understood what he was feeling like she did. She had no choice but to step inside.
* * *
Seth stood aside as his guests entered, the knot in his chest pressing so fiercely against his ribs it ached to draw breath. His thoughts darted in a dozen directions, trying to grasp something logical about Carrie’s announcement. The boy couldn’t possibly be his. He closed the door and moved to the living room, making a quick assessment of his lovely neighbor. She’d seemed nice and sweet the day he’d found her crouched down beside her small car staring at the deflated tire. Now he took a closer look. Was she a con artist? A mental case? It was his nature to question things, especially people. She didn’t look like she had a devious bone in her body. In fact, with her slender frame, her short, blond, feathery hair style and bright blue eyes she evoked thoughts of summer and sunshine. But as a cop he knew everyone had a dark side.
He rubbed his forehead. “Have a seat.”
Reluctantly, Carrie sat on the sofa, pulling the boy down beside her. The child had released Carrie’s hand, but his hand was now firmly wrapped around a toy he’d pulled from his pocket. The old Tonka truck looked like it had been through a war. In his other hand he grasped a dirty plastic grocery sack.
Seth stood near the fireplace facing the pair, taking a position of authority. “Now, you want to explain what’s going on here? What makes you think the boy is mine?”
Carrie pulled a paper from her pocket and handed it to him. “I’m sure this will clear everything up for you. It was pinned to his chest when I found him on my porch a short while ago.”
“What?” He took the note and read through it, his mind refusing to grasp the words. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be true. Not now, when he was finally making things right in his life. A lump of old shame and regret formed in his gut. He was a Montgomery. The son of a prominent and well-respected family in Dover. But he’d turned his back on his heritage and his values for a year of freedom that had quickly become a life of darkness and regret. Now that shameful time might have finally caught up with him.
He looked at Carrie, and the condemnation in her blue eyes stung. “I don’t understand any of this. And why was he left on your porch?”
She pointed to the number on the back of the paper he held, lowering her voice so Jack couldn’t hear. “Five thirty-three. That’s your house number. Mine is five thirty-five. I think whoever left him thought they were leaving him on your porch.”
That tidbit of information latched on to him like the talons of a hawk. “Tiff was dyslexic.” He muttered the words to himself, but Carrie pounced on them.
“So she thought she was leaving him on your porch. Who’s Tiff?”
The scorn in her voice shot his defenses into place. “My ex-wife. We were only married a short time.” Short was being generous. Six weeks, two days and four hours, to be exact.
“Perhaps you should call her for an explanation.” Carrie stood and started for the door.
“I haven’t seen or heard from her in years. She never told me about...” He looked at the child, who had scooted onto the floor and was playing quietly with the battered truck.
Carrie crossed her arms over her chest, her expression clearly revealing her skepticism. “So you’re saying she kept the child a secret from you? Why would she do that?”
Good question. He put his fists on his hips. “I don’t know.”
He looked at the child again, so small and frail. Could the boy be his son? Somewhere deep inside, a feeling began to form. It wouldn’t be out of character for Tiff to have kept her pregnancy a secret. She’d thought she was marrying a fun guy who could keep her in high style. But when the money had run out, so had she. But why bring the boy to him now and abandon him on the porch? That was heartless even for her.
He ran his hands down his face, staring at Jack. “This is crazy. I don’t understand any of it.” The note said the boy was five. He’d done the math. It added up. A father. He’d never considered that. At least not for a long time. His foray into the Vegas lifestyle had drawn out all of his sinful nature, and he’d spent the last years trying to overcome it. Was it true? Was Jack his?
Carrie cleared her throat softly. “Seth, do you have something good for Jack to eat?”
Seth frowned. Was she kidding? His life had been upended and she was wondering about food? One glance at the child banished his irritation. He didn’t know a lot about children, but it didn’t take much to see the boy was thin and sallow-looking, and his cobalt blue eyes were set too deeply in his face, as if he might have been hungry awhile.
His eyes. Seth’s heart skipped a beat and that feeling deep inside grew stronger. The cobalt color was a Montgomery family trait. The only one of his siblings who didn’t have them was his sister Bethany, who’d inherited their grandmother’s hazel color. He glanced at Carrie. She was looking at him with expectancy. Food. Right. “Uh, like what? Cold pizza? Lunch meat?”
“Fruit or cereal, perhaps?”
He winced at her scolding tone. “Right.” He moved into the kitchen. Good food. Nourishing food. Things he rarely purchased. All he could scrounge up was a slightly overripe banana.
“Will this work?”
Carried arched her brows as she urged Jack to his feet. “Jack, let’s get you over to your dad’s table and you can play with your truck while you eat this. We’ll be right here where you can see us, okay?”
After settling Jack at the table, Carrie approached Seth, her blue eyes wary and concerned.
“Seth, what’s going on? Is he yours or not?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. It’s possible. I have to figure out what I’m going to do with him.”
“You’re not thinking of sending him to foster care, are you? You can’t. He’ll be just a number there with no one to comfort him.”
Seth frowned. “I only meant I need to find someone to take care of Jack while I’m at work. I just finished orientation for my new job. I need to show them I’m committed and dependable. I can’t do that if I keep taking off work to watch Jack.” That wasn’t the only thing he was concerned about. Jack’s sudden appearance would stir up gossip. He didn’t want his family paying for his past mistakes.
“What about friends and family? I know you just moved here, but are they close by?”
Seth shook his head. “Moved back here. I grew up in Dover. My family has lived here for generations. Everyone knows us. But I can’t ask them for help.”