The Secret Heir. Gina Wilkins
Wanna go with Daddy.”
Jackson could almost feel Laurel’s disapproving look on the back of his neck, silently blaming him for starting this when things had been going so well before. He grew immediately defensive in response, as he so often did with her lately. “There’s really nothing I can do here for now,” he said to her. “And I have responsibilities to my job.”
“As do I,” she murmured.
Always the peacemaker, Donna jumped in hastily to avert Tyler’s impending outburst and placate his parents. “Tyler, sweetie, Gammy’s going to play a game with you as soon as you’ve finished eating, remember? We talked about it. And, Jackson, there’s no reason for you to stay here twiddling your thumbs now when you’ll very likely be here all day tomorrow. Run along to take care of things at your job site. Actually, Laurel, you can check in at your office, too, if you’d like. It isn’t as if you would be far away. Tyler and I will be just fine here, won’t we, darling?”
She spooned a bite of orange sherbet into the boy’s mouth as she spoke. That treat, and the promise of a game with his beloved grandmother, was enough to mollify him somewhat. He sniffed and reached again for the spoon.
“I’ll stay with my son,” Laurel said.
Was that another dig at him? Jackson could no longer tell if he was only imagining disapproval in her eyes when she looked at him. “Guess I’ll go on, then. Have fun playing your game with Gammy, Tyler. I’ll be back soon and I’ll have a surprise for you, okay?”
He heard Laurel sigh, but Tyler smiled. For now Jackson told himself that was enough.
As he left the hospital room, he couldn’t help remembering a time when Laurel had smiled at him with such affection. And he wondered sadly whatever had happened to those smiles. He missed them. He missed her, damn it.
Stalking through the hospital exit doors, he headed for his truck on the parking deck. He needed to be at work. At least he felt somewhat in control of that part of his life, if nowhere else.
Three
L aurel knew the day was moving too slowly for Jackson, but as far as she was concerned the time was speeding past too quickly. Every hour that went by was another hour closer to the time when her baby went under the surgeon’s knife.
She felt as though she was clinging to her sanity by her fingernails. Nervous from the beginning about her ability to be a good mother, especially considering the miserable example set by her own, she didn’t know what she was supposed to do now, in this time of crisis. She didn’t even know what questions she should be asking of the medical professionals who bustled in and out of Tyler’s room during the day.
Lacking a strong role model and reluctant to reveal her maternal insecurities to Jackson or his parents, Laurel had long ago come up with a plan of sorts. Her own mother had been so incompetent in the role, had made so many mistakes, that it seemed obvious that Laurel should ask herself what her mother would do in any situation—and then do the opposite. Since Janice had tended to disappear whenever Laurel needed her most, Laurel had no intention of leaving Tyler’s side during this ordeal.
“Are you sure you don’t want to take a break, Laurel?” Donna asked late that afternoon. “Except to go with Tyler for his tests this afternoon, you haven’t left this room all day. You even ate your lunch in here, what little you choked down. At least I had a chance to get out for an hour when Carl came by for a late lunch with me. Why don’t you go out for a walk in the meditation garden? It’s lovely out there now that it’s stopped raining.”
“I’d rather stay with Tyler,” Laurel replied, keeping her voice low, as Donna had. Tyler had fallen asleep a short while earlier. Though he was a heavy sleeper, neither of them wanted to risk waking him from his nap too soon, which would leave him cranky for the remainder of the evening.
Donna glanced at the wall clock. “Jackson should be back soon. Maybe you and he can have dinner in the cafeteria.”
“Perhaps.” Laurel made a show of studying one of the informational brochures a nurse had given her earlier, though she was having trouble concentrating on the guidelines for postoperative care.
“I, um…” Donna cleared her throat delicately, a sign that she wasn’t sure how her next words would be received. “I hope you aren’t annoyed that Jackson felt the need to work this afternoon. He’s so much like my Carl. Neither of them can sit still for long when they could be doing something worthwhile, instead. Carl instilled a strong work ethic in Jackson from a very early age, you know.”
“I’m not annoyed.” And she didn’t need Donna lecturing her about her husband, she thought resentfully. And then she sighed and ran a hand through her dark-blond hair, aware that weariness and stress were making her cranky. Maybe she should be the one taking a nap.
“Jackson tries so hard to be like Carl.” Donna’s eyes were unfocused now, her voice barely louder than a whisper; it almost seemed that she was talking more to herself than to Laurel. “It’s almost as if—”
“As if what?”
Donna blinked, then shook her head impatiently. “I suppose I’m just tired.”
“Then maybe you’re the one who should get out for a while. There’s really no reason for you to sit here with me.”
Donna’s red-tinted lips twisted into a smile. “You probably wish I would leave for a while. But I…well, I just need to be close to my grandson today.”
Because that was one sentiment she understood completely—perhaps the only thing she and Donna had in common—Laurel merely nodded and looked down at the brochure again. She really needed to prepare herself for Tyler’s postoperative care.
Jackson sat at the same cafeteria table at which he had sat the night before, overlooking the same rapidly darkening courtyard. It was dinnertime again, though a bit earlier than he had eaten the night before. This time it was his parents, rather than his wife, who faced him from the other side of the table.
Despite Jackson’s attempts to coax her out of the hospital room, Laurel had insisted on dining from a tray in Tyler’s room. He’d gotten the distinct impression that she wanted the rest of them to leave her alone with her son. And he couldn’t help resenting that she seemed to be closing him out again.
“We may have to physically restrain her from going into the operating room with Tyler in the morning,” he muttered, stabbing his fork into the pasta on his plate.
“She’s just worried about him,” Donna said soothingly, toying unenthusiastically with her own chef’s salad. “She doesn’t want to let him out of her sight, as if nothing bad can happen to him as long as she’s with him to protect him. I understand completely.”
Jackson shrugged. “Wish I understood her completely.”
There was a taut moment of silence.
“Jackson,” Donna said rather tentatively, “you and Laurel are going to need each other during the next few weeks. Don’t let this ordeal drive a wedge between you.”
Jackson figured his parents had to be aware that his and Laurel’s marriage had been shaky for a while now. They weren’t stupid, nor were they unobservant, especially where he was concerned. “To be honest, I don’t know what, if anything, Laurel will need during these next few weeks. Even if she does need something from me, she sure as hell won’t admit it.”
It wasn’t like him to complain, and he was almost surprised to hear the words escaping him. Apparently the stress of his son’s illness was affecting him more than he had realized.
He knew Laurel hadn’t been as fortunate as he had when it came to having supportive, always-available parents. Her father had abandoned her early, and her mother had been, from what little Laurel had told him, pretty much worthless as a parent, finally getting killed in a car accident while Laurel was still in high school. But knowing about Laurel’s troubled upbringing didn’t help