The Newcomer (Thunder Point) (12 page)

He asked Bridget out. He took her home from the party. And he fell hard and fast. So did she, as far as he could tell. Until he got another assignment a couple of weeks later they spent every minute together at her apartment. For a while it worked. She even asked him if they could get married and he said yes. Why not?

He bought her a ring on one of his trips home and she loved it. She took him to meet the family—a brother and a sister, parents, grandparents. And then she said, “If we’re going to get married, you have to find something to do for work that doesn’t take you away six months of the year—especially away to scary places you can’t talk about.”

And then the arguing commenced. He was young; he wasn’t ready to have lead in his shoes, and to put down roots. He was also selfish—he wanted it all. He was still hooked on adventure, but he didn’t want to give up a woman like Bridget. He thought he might be ready for a nice suburban life in a few years. Eventually he came back from a trip to Somalia and she informed him, this just wouldn’t work for her. She wanted a more stable family life. She was the first woman to tell him he had trouble with commitment, with real intimacy. She gave him back the ring, but they got together a few more times when he wasn’t traveling.

In fact, that was the crux of it—they couldn’t agree on anything out of bed. In the sack,
everything
worked. All he wanted was for Bridget to put up with his job, his traveling, welcome him home like the hot mama she was. All she wanted was someone she could depend on all the time. And it made her furious that she couldn’t resist him.

It made him feel just fine, however.

Eventually, maybe six or eight months after the engagement was off and the back-and-forth had gone on too long she said she’d met someone. He remembered, he tried to cajole her into once more for old time’s sake and she told him he was a pig.

Well, she was probably right. He was less piggish these days. He was a lot more conscious of the feelings of others. It was something he assumed came with maturity. He hoped so, anyway.

A few minutes later Cooper pulled up to the well-groomed, large ranch-style home. It was painted light green with white shutters and a dark green front door—the kind of house Bridge had wanted to live in, to raise a family in. There were a lot of cars and he felt his heart clutch. He hoped she hadn’t died. He hoped she wasn’t too near death to say whatever it was she had to say. He hadn’t been a very good boyfriend or fiancé; maybe she just wanted to ream him out one more time before she crossed over. Who was he to deny her that pleasure?

He knocked on the front door. He was afraid to ring the bell—what if there was grieving. Mrs. Cunningham answered and God bless her, she had aged far more than ten years. Cooper couldn’t even imagine losing a family member like this—dying by inches. He put out his hand. “Mrs. Cunningham, do you remember me?” he asked.

“Of course, Coop. Thank you for coming. I realize it’s a lot to ask of you.”

“I’m sorry you’re going through this,” he said.

“Is that him?” he heard someone ask. Then the man who must be Spencer came into the foyer. “Cooper?”

“Yes,” he said, putting out his hand again. “Spencer?”

“Nice to meet you, Cooper. Can I get you a drink or something?”

In fact, Spencer looked as if he could use a drink. So did Mrs. Cunningham.

“No, thanks. How’s she doing?”

“She’s hanging in there. Hospice does a good job of keeping her comfortable. I don’t know how to prepare you, Cooper—she’s not the same girl you dated. Her appearance is—” Then he ran a hand around his sweaty neck. “We converted the sun porch into a hospital room so she could be here with the family. Our house is smaller and less accessible—two-story and all. I’m sure you want to get on with this. Follow me.”

In fact, Cooper
didn’t
want to get on with it. He wanted to bolt. But that ship had sailed and here he was. He walked through a family room. Mr. Cunningham and a couple of younger men were watching TV but the volume was turned low. There were three kids and a teenager playing a board game at the dining room table and two women puttered around the kitchen, whispering. The house had a pall of death over it—all subdued and respectfully quiet.

He had a sudden and profound understanding of wounded animals sneaking off into the forest to die alone and without an audience.

The room was large and while the blinds were partially closed, he could see that if opened, it would be a bright and sunny room. It was dominated by a hospital bed, the back raised and the woman in the bed was not his Bridget. This woman looked a hundred years old. She had only yellow fuzz on her head and she was slumped over, her bony arms appearing spidery, her fingers too long. She had an IV hooked up, and a woman who must be a nurse busied herself keeping Bridget comfortable. The accoutrements of illness were present—wheelchair, bedside table holding a couple of glasses of liquid, straws, basin, towels, bedpan. There was a cot beside the bed—someone slept there, close by her side.

Spencer leaned over her, kissed her forehead and said, “Honey, he’s here.”

Bridget roused slowly. “Cooper?” she asked.

Spencer stroked her naked head and she opened her eyes. They were no longer that bright, fiery green but pale and weak. She tried to sit up in the bed, but Spencer wouldn’t allow her struggle. With strong hands under her armpits, he pulled her up. The nurse left immediately and Spencer backed away from the bed. Bridget patted the bed beside her, indicating Cooper should sit down and Cooper, feeling like the biggest coward alive, hesitated.

“Cooper, I’m sorry for all the secrecy,” she said, her voice much stronger than he expected. “This is my fault, but I swear to you, I didn’t know. Less than six months ago I learned something you need to know about. We did a lot of tests of everyone in the family and extended family in search of a bone marrow donor—I was too sick for my own bone marrow to be harvested. That was when we discovered something. Cooper, you have a son. My son. Spencer and I always assumed he was ours, but the testing showed... Cooper, I’m sorry. I really didn’t think it was possible.”

Cooper was stunned. He couldn’t speak. She must be mistaken, surely. He said nothing because in his head he knew these must be the delusional ramblings of a very sick woman.

“I started seeing Spencer a few months after we ended our engagement but you and I, we always had one last goodbye, didn’t we. We just discovered this and it seemed logical to wait until later, after Austin was older.... But then I decided at the last minute, I couldn’t leave this to them.” She made a sound that was like a chuckle. “Last-minute. That’s putting it mildly. Austin is ten years old and very smart and we explained it to him. I wanted to be the one to tell you. And to plead with you—know him if you want to, but please don’t take him away from his father.”

Take him away?
Cooper thought.
I’m not sure I even want to have a kid.
Finally, fighting through the shock, he said, “You can’t be sure.”

“I’m sure. There’s no other possibility. But you should have tests—DNA. We’ll cover the costs, of course. I just can’t move on unless my conscience is clear. I didn’t know. I really didn’t know.”

“You didn’t suspect, after we were together...?”

She shook her head. “When I first realized I was pregnant, you’d been gone for a month. Austin was born two weeks early and weighed seven pounds. Possibly he was actually two weeks late, instead. That aside, he doesn’t have Spencer’s DNA. And there is no other possibility.” She reached for Cooper’s hand. “I’m sorry. I never would have kept something like that from you.”

“You’re sure?” he asked.

She nodded. “He knows. We told him Spencer is his father of the heart, but he has someone else’s genes. You and Spencer will have to work things out.” She coughed weakly. “Please consider their relationship. I’m out of time, Cooper.”

“All right, sweetheart,” Spencer said. “You’ve done your part. I’m going to get Cooper here a drink and send Mary Ann back in here to give you something. Sleep a little if you can. I’ll be back soon.”

“Thank you,” she said to her husband.

But Cooper didn’t move.

“Cooper?” Spencer said. “Come on, let’s talk.”

Cooper followed numbly. He passed the kids at the dining room table—two of them were boys in the right age group and he wondered if one of them was his biological son. Spencer led him into a study and closed them in.

“Mary Ann is going to give her a big load of morphine,” he said, going directly to a small wet bar. “She’s been holding off today, wanting to be alert when you got here. Scotch? Bourbon? Beer? Anything.”

“Yeah,” Cooper said. “Anything.”

Spencer poured two scotches and handed him one.

“Austin?” Cooper asked.

Spencer laughed. “I’m from Missouri and was down here for a teaching job. I always expected it to be temporary, but it turned out to be good for me. Bridget and I escaped to Austin sometimes. It’s a pretty town. I always thought she got pregnant there, but...” He shook his head. “Sorry you were blindsided, Cooper. She wanted to be the one to tell you. She didn’t say so, but I suspect she hoped that her appearance would influence you into letting Austin stay with me, live with me. It’s what he wants, but he’s only ten.”

Cooper took a sip of his drink and just shook his head.

“You’re taking this pretty well....”

Spencer laughed and shook his head. “Yeah, right. Well, I didn’t always take it real well. It took a lot of discussion, a lot of figuring the dates, a lot of jealousy on my part. Try to imagine finding out your son isn’t your son.”

“She didn’t cheat, Spencer. She told me she’d met someone—she’d just started seeing you. She hoped it would work out better than it had with me. I didn’t even take it seriously. I figured eventually we’d end up together, but the next time I got back to the States, she was getting married. I didn’t know about the baby. She never said anything about that.”

“I’ll be honest with you, Cooper. I was disappointed. Pissed. But I’ve had six months to think about things. Six really tough months—Bridget has been so sick. All I want is to go easy on Austin.”

“Why would I punish a kid by doing something like taking him away from the only father he knows?”

“Thanks. That’ll give everyone some peace of mind, his grandparents being here, as well. Especially Bridge—she needs reassurance. And...” He turned away for a second, took a sip of his drink before turning back. “I can’t even think about losing them both.”

“I want to know him,” Cooper said. “I mean, once we’re sure...”

“We’re sure, but I understand.”

“Are there more? Kids?”

Spencer shook his head. “We tried. We were just starting some fertility workups. That’s how we found out Bridget was sick. We did chemo instead. We thought we were beating the son of a bitch a few times.”

“What kind of cancer is it?”

“Started as colon cancer, but it’s just about everywhere now. Really, Bridget has been on borrowed time for a while. I’m sorry about this, Cooper. This is no way to find out.”

He just threw back his drink. He believed her—that she didn’t know. And how could he complain in the face of what these people were going through?

“Would you like to meet him?” Spencer asked.

Cooper just nodded. “What do I say to him?”

“Whatever you want. Maybe, ‘Nice to meet you?’”

“Should we wait until there’s a test to confirm this?”

“We’ll get that done, too. We have the supplies—a kit. You could get by with a swab. We’ll send it in for you. It could be as long as six weeks.”

“Bridget isn’t going to make it six weeks, is she?” Cooper asked.

“I don’t think she’s going to make it six days,” Spencer said. “But she knows how this is going to come out, Cooper.”

“Can I say goodbye?” Cooper asked.

Spencer smiled. “I think that would be nice. Let’s go do that before morphine takes over.” As they were leaving the study, Spencer put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re a good sport, Cooper. I can’t imagine something like this complicating my life right now.”

The guy’s going through cancer, losing his wife, and Cooper is a good sport? He was suddenly ashamed. When he got back to Bridget, he could see at once that some of the tension of pain had left her.

Cooper sat down on the edge of the bed and lifted her hand into his. “Bridge,” he whispered. “Are you awake?” She nodded weakly. “Bridget, I know I wasn’t a very good boyfriend or fiancé.” She gave a tiny smile and squeezed his hand. “But I want you to know something—that time we were together. That was good. I’m sorry it got a little messy, but no regrets from my end. And don’t worry about Austin. I’m not going to interfere in his life. He’ll be okay, Bridge. His needs will come first.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Rest easy.”

Before he broke down and cried like a girl, he stood up and left the room. He was barely out the door when, standing right in front of him was a handsome little boy. Kind of small for ten, just like Cooper had been.

“You him?” he asked. “You my real dad?”

Cooper smiled. “Not exactly,” he said. “I’m kind of your alternate dad.” Then he ruffled the boy’s hair. “You have a pretty good dad on stage right now—I wouldn’t want to get in the way of that. But if you need me...”