His Surprise Son (8 page)

He shook his head in disgust. “That sounds like a perfect person. And I was not.”

“No. But in your parents’ eyes, you were as close as you could possibly get.” Her tone was tolerant, not judgmental. “Everyone deserves someone who sees him that way.”

“Or who sees him realistically, recognizes his screwups and calls him on them. Izzy, don’t whitewash what you went through because of us.”

She did look at him then and, even with her sunglasses in place, he could see a steely strength she had not possessed at seventeen. “I’m not whitewashing anything, believe me. But if my child had a great future and I thought someone or something might take that away, I would protect him, too. A bulldozer would have to go through me to get to him. I might even make big mistakes, costly mistakes, while I tried to figure out what to do.”

The vague feeling that had dogged Nate forever began to take a shape. Izzy understood passion. Despite a background that had given her no experience with loyalty, she spoke of being protective with a fierceness that humbled him to the point of discomfort.

He knew the answer to his next question but asked it anyway. Almost as if he were punishing himself. “You needed support when you had the miscarriage. I’m guessing Felicia was unavailable?”

“Felicia was never available.” Izzy started walking. “When was the last time you went kayaking?” she asked, abruptly changing the subject.

“Are you and the sheriff seeing each other?”

Her head whipped toward him. “What?”

“The summer you and I dated. That’s the last time I went kayaking.”

“Oh.” They walked a bit more. “We’re friends,” she muttered.

“You and the sheriff?”

Izzy nodded.

“Is there anyone else who might get his nose out of joint if he saw you in a kayak with me?”

She tilted her head, and he liked the way her hair swung in a shiny curtain around her shoulders. “Are you talking about going kayaking today?”

“That’s the idea. Are you married? Engaged? Dating?”

“No, but—”

“Good. Let’s go.” He headed toward the rental dock.

“Wait.” When he turned back, she was shaking her head. “I don’t want to.”

Nate sighed heavily. “Oh, that’s right. You need a lot of lead-in time.”

“Pardon me?”

“You weren’t spontaneous. I forgot about that.”

Openmouthed, she stomped toward him. “Is that a joke? If anything, I was too spontaneous with you.”

Pretending to mull that over, Nate returned to the railing overlooking the river. The memory of being on the river with Izzy became vivid. When was the last time he’d felt that free, content to do nothing more than float and think about the girl in front of him? The strange, restless yearning that had prompted him to accept the job in Oregon rose inside him again.

“Sure do miss the river,” he mused.

“You live in Chicago. What’s that thing called that runs through your city? Oh, yeah, the Chicago
River
.”

“True, we have a river. It’s not the same, though. There’s nothing like a hometown tributary.” The grin he shot her was laced with humor. He shrugged. “Anyway, I work a lot. It’s hard to relax. A vacation seems like the perfect time to get back to kayaking.”

“I thought you were in Thunder Ridge on business.”

He looked at her steadily. “So did I. But that was before I knew
you
lived in Thunder Ridge again.”

Her lips parted ever so slightly in surprise, and he caught the swift intake of breath before she looked away from him. He had to rein in his impatience while he waited for her to say something. When she relented, her voice was low, almost flat. “Are
you
married? Or engaged?”

“No.” He turned and began to walk slowly toward the rental dock. When she followed—also slowly—the intensity of his relief and pleasure came as a surprise. They were halfway there, a stack of kayaks in sight, when he added, “Not dating anyone, either. In case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t.”

Her expression told him she was lying. Nate turned away as a grin spread across his face.

Chapter Eight

L
iar.

Heck yes, she wondered if he was dating someone.

But only because of Eli.

Mostly because of Eli.

In large measure because of Eli. She had to make sure no one was going to cause friction and unhappiness in her son’s life if she told Nate the truth.

When
she told Nate the truth. She was certain now that it was the right thing to do. Maybe she wasn’t positive she could trust everyone in Nate’s life with Eli’s well-being, but she was sure she could trust Nate. And that was saying something.

As Izzy buckled the straps of the life preserver the kayak rental guy had handed her, she thought,
I’m not going to tell Nate right this second, so why am I doing this? I should be at work, coating my ulcer with a cheese Danish.

She already had the salient information she’d hoped to attain today.

She was sorry about Nate’s father and shocked that his mother had told him to come home to Thunder Ridge, knowing Izzy might be here. She didn’t know about Eli, but perhaps the woman regretted her lie about the miscarriage? Izzy had never borne the Thayers any ill will, and now she believed she could forgive them altogether. That alone was a giant relief. After all, when it came to fudging on big truths, who was she to call the kettle black? Still, Izzy was just as bearish about Eli’s well-being as they had been about Nate’s. If Mrs. Thayer wanted to be a grandparent to Eli, she was darn well going to have to be grateful for him. Just as he was. And with Izzy as his mother.

“You doing okay over there, Gilligan?”

Nate’s question made Izzy jump so hard she nearly fell into the river.

Gilligan. Oh, my Lord.
She’d forgotten. She’d totally forgotten. Another feeling of déjà vu washed over her, so powerful she felt like passing out.

“Fine. I’m fine!” she lied.

Back in her kayaking days with Nate, they’d gotten caught in a sudden storm after paddling far from the more populated stretches of quiet water. Spying a finger of land, they’d pulled their tandem kayak up onto the bank, found a copse of trees to huddle beneath while they waited out the weather and sang the theme song from
Gilligan’s Island
, a show they had both watched in reruns as children. On that day, during the storm, for every bar of the song they’d remembered, they’d kissed...

“Ready to get in?”

“Um...sure.”

She must have had the subconscious Freudian brain fart of the century when she’d started using the nicknames Skipper and First Mate with Eli. She’d bought all the DVDs of
Gilligan’s Island
to watch with him, because it had been one of the few really lighthearted memories of her childhood.

While the rental dude stood by, holding their oars, Nate stepped over to her and reached for her hand to help her in. He’d requested a tandem kayak, just like the one they’d used years before.

As soon as his hand closed around hers, a jolt of primal awareness vibrated inside her, starting low in her belly and racing down her legs.

Getting into the kayak, she held on to the dock, helping to steady the boat while Nate got in behind her. They took their oars and pushed off.

“You feeling energetic?” Nate’s resonant voice made the hair on the back of her neck prickle.

She nodded.

They dipped their oars into the river and paddled in unison, finding their rhythm with unconscious ease.

The first time she’d taken Eli kayaking, he’d fallen in love with it. Even though she didn’t find the time to get on the river much lately, her son was a river rat.

She and Holliday had decided that info about Nate’s parents and his significant-other status was all she reasonably needed to know before she told Nate he was a father. There was nothing to stop her now.

Nothing except terror. Once she told him, everything would change.

Her relationship with Eli would change.

She dug her oar into the water. What if Eli was furious with her for not telling him about Nate sooner? Much sooner. Some kids never forgave their parents for keeping secrets. And Nate must earn more money in an hour than she earned in a day. In two days. With the deli in the red, she knew Henry and Sam were overpaying her as it was, and she was tightening her purse strings so she could take a voluntary cut in pay until business improved.
Which it would.
But until then, she and Eli were on a necessities-only budget. Nate, on the other hand, could afford the kinds of things a teenage boy coveted. What if Eli decided he wanted to live with his father in Chicago? What if Nate turned into an overindulgent parent who spoiled Eli rotten and turned her beautiful son into a shallow money-and-status-driven—

“It’s not a race, Gilligan!” Nate called up to her, humor edging his voice. “Take it easy.”

She didn’t want to take it easy. Paddling with all her might had kept her moving forward up to this point in her life. If she slowed down, fear would capsize her.

Digging her oar into the green Long River, she couldn’t paddle fast enough to outrun her imagination. How would Nate handle Eli’s hearing impairment? Often, people who didn’t know Eli well had trouble understanding him.

Her chest squeezed so hard she couldn’t take a breath. She wanted to turn this rig around and hide under her duvet until Nate left Thunder Ridge, as ignorant of Eli’s existence as when he’d arrived.

Becoming a mother had brought out all the courage in her. And all the fear, too.

Perspiration trickled down from Izzy’s forehead, mingling with tears that stung her eyes, and she was glad for the physical release of paddling, as well as for the relative silence. With her emotions in her throat, she didn’t want to talk.

They paddled until the picnickers and sunbathers along the river’s edge faded into the background behind them and the water narrowed to a snaking channel with reeds and tree-lined banks.

As it became harder to paddle, Izzy noticed the kayak pulling toward the marshy area near the shore. She waited for Nate to lean the kayak, but it continued to drift starboard.

“Nate, we’re going the wrong way. We’re going to get stuck!” She paddled harder, to no avail. “Why can’t we move this thing? Why—” She turned to look at him. “What...what are you doing?”

Nate’s arms were crossed behind his head, his oar resting uselessly in front of him. Face turned toward the sun and glinting off his aviator glasses, he wore the satisfied smile of someone utterly at peace. Didn’t he realize—

“We’re going to run aground! What’s the matter with you? Paddle, damn it, paddle!”

His grin reminded her of a slow dance—nice and easy. “You’re still a type A rower.” He clucked his tongue. “Relax, Izzy. Trust the river. The current will take you where you want to go.”

Was he crazy? Cattails and saw grass clogged the river closer to the bank. “Kayaks wouldn’t come with oars if we weren’t supposed to paddle,” she pointed out.

White teeth flashed as his laughter rang across the river. Now she remembered. This was how it used to be: Nate would be relaxed and calm. He’d be enjoying life while she worried enough for ten people. He’d make decisions and move forward while she fretted and stewed and re-decided. How could she trust Eli’s well-being to a man who thought so differently than she? She’d be on a Xanax drip while he took the path of least resistance. He was so...so... He was...

He was so right.

Correcting course on its own, the kayak began to float back toward the middle of the river.

Still leaning back, Nate said, “You know, I don’t think you ever stopped paddling before. Good for you.”

Izzy whipped around to face front again. A soothing breeze fanned her skin and ruffled the tree leaves—the only sound to interrupt the gorgeous quiet. Despite her surroundings, she felt hot and agitated.

Play it cool today. You’re on a fact-finding mission, that’s all. No drama. No recriminations and no big revelations. Don’t show your emotions at all.
Holliday had coached her before she’d left for this meeting with Nate.

But, really, who did he think he was, telling her to follow the river. To “trust the current”? All her life she’d felt like a salmon swimming upstream and never more so than when she’d realized the boy she’d thought she’d loved with all her heart did not love her. Never had she felt less capable of trusting life than when she’d been a pregnant high school senior, desperate to keep her baby
and
get an education, and give both herself and her child a decent life.

Think like Holliday.
Holliday would be sarcastic or crack a joke. Holliday would tell him to
piss off
.

“You okay up there, Gilligan?”

“Piss off!” Instantly, tears sprang to Izzy’s eyes and—
drat it!
—a sob caught in her throat. She had never, ever said that to anyone before. Not even in sign language.

“What’s the matter?”

She paddled harder. If she couldn’t stem her tears, she could pass them off as sweat.

“Whoa, Izzy, you’re going to give yourself a heart attack. Slow down.”

Nate increased his efforts also, which consequently reduced hers, and Izzy realized how tired she was.

“See that inlet about thirty feet up ahead? Head there, and we’ll rest on land.”

His tone told her not to argue, but ultimately it was her own fatigue—emotional and physical—that persuaded her. She couldn’t fight it as he paddled backward directing them toward the shore. The second they reached the riverbank, however, she struggled out of the kayak, wordlessly helping to drag the boat to higher ground, then stalking toward the woods.

“Izzy, wait!” Catching up, he grabbed her arm. “Would you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Just drop it.”

“Not a chance. Talk to me.” His eyes looked fierce.

“Okay, you want to know what’s wrong? You. You’re what’s wrong!” Breathing heavily, she felt years’ worth of fear and exhaustion and hurt boil over. “You think you can come back and tell me you’re sorry you left town and, golly, you sure meant to come back, so that means you and I are at ground zero again. Well, it doesn’t work that way.”

“I never said that. I—”

“You don’t have to
say
it, Nate. You’ve always gotten what you want. Good-looking, good grades, good family. Well, good for you. ‘Just trust the current, Izzy.’” She threw his words back at him. “Maybe the current takes you where you want to go, but in my life, I have to row.”

They stared at each other, and the awareness in his eyes told her that, for the first time, he realized how deep her resentment went. She hadn’t even realized it herself until this moment.

“When did I become your enemy?” he asked.

He seemed to genuinely want to know.

Don’t say anything, don’t say anything...do not say anything. Remember what Holliday told you—now is not the time to get emotional.

“Never mind.” She shook her head. “Forget it. Let’s go back.” She turned.

Nate grabbed her arm. “No. Izzy, I’m not just here because of work or for a vacation. I came back because nothing in my life,
nothing
, has ever felt as right as that summer we were together. It was special.
You
were special.”

Tears leaked out the corner of her eyes, and her nose began to run. Hastily, she wiped her face, glancing toward the forest to gauge whether she could make a run for it. Nate had always been the one person who could break her heart wide-open and then make it knit shut again, tighter and harder to crack than before.

“I was ‘special’? Nothing felt as ‘right’ as that summer?” She nodded broadly. “Wow, that is a happy surprise. There’s just one thing I don’t understand.”
Don’t do it, Izzy, don’t. Holly was right—don’t get emotional.
“How were you able to date another girl so soon after you left town? I don’t think I could have done it if I’d been in your shoes. I wouldn’t have forgotten someone so special that my entire summer felt ‘right’ just because we were together, and then be able to go off and date somebody else. Then again—”
No, seriously, stop yourself.
“It’s also hard to understand why—if I really was that special—you never wanted to introduce me to your cool high school crowd or to your parents. At least not until I got pregnant, and you panicked and told them about me so they could convince me not to keep the baby!” Her whole body felt like a volcano ready to erupt. She marched so close she could see the dark blue rim of his eyes. “You didn’t fight for
us
, you fought for your future. You knew I didn’t fit into that future. And I knew it, too, I really did, but I was willing to pretend, because I—”
No. No-no-no-no-no.
“I...I—”
I forbid you to say it! If you say it, you will never be able to take it back.

“Izzy—” he began when she halted. “Back up. What do you mean, I got another girlfriend after I left?” He scowled. “Dating was the last thing on my mind when I left town.”

“I don’t care if you dated.”
Not much.
The photo of him and the beautiful, sophisticated blonde had been a knife in her heart. “I’m sure there were plenty of appropriate girls in Chicago.”

“Appropriate?”

“Women who would have made your parents comfortable.”

“Izzy, my parents were middle class with middle-class values they embraced.”

“They didn’t want
you
to embrace them, though.”

Sighing, he rubbed his eyes. “Maybe not. But after what happened with us, I needed a break to figure things out. Post-traumatic relationship disorder.” His smile was sad and ironic. “That’s what a friend of mine called it.”

“You’re saying you had post-traumatic relationship disorder?
You
did.” She looked at him in disbelief.

“Yes,” he confirmed. “Hell, Izzy, do you think I didn’t care that I got you pregnant? That it wasn’t eating away at me that I made your life harder when it was already tough enough? Is that why you left without even calling me?” His eyes narrowed. “The baby you miscarried was mine, too.”

There was no miscarriage!
She nearly screamed it, but another thought intervened. “A baby you didn’t want to raise in the first place? You must have been at least a little relieved to hear there was no baby.”