“She kept the truth to herself, which is pretty much the same thing. I thought he didn’t want anything to do with us, but I was wrong. He’s very excited to see you.”
Tyler’s eyes widened with hope. “You think he’ll like me?”
“I think he’ll adore you.” She touched his cheek. “You look a lot like him. The dark hair and eyes.”
“But I have your smile.”
“Yes, you do and I want it back.” She leaned in and tickled him.
He laughed at that as much as at the familiar and silly joke.
He leaned against her. “I wish I was still in school so I could tell everyone I have a dad, too.”
“You’ll tell them in September.”
“Do you think Dad will come live with us in San Francisco?”
If she’d been standing she would have fallen on the spot. “Gee, ah, probably not. Your dad’s life is here, in Fool’s Gold. He has a big family. I don’t know who still lives here. Probably his mom and I would guess a few of his sisters.”
Tyler stared up at her. “There’s more?”
There was an entire herd, she thought grimly. Because Ethan’s relatives were also Tyler’s. The thought made her a little nervous. How could she compete with an entire family? Not that it was a competition, she reminded herself. But still…
“You have two uncles, three aunts, who are triplets by the way, and a grandmother.”
“Cool!”
“I know,” she said with false excitement. “You’ll have so much family, you won’t know what to do with everyone.”
“Anyone my age?”
“I don’t think so. I don’t know for sure. You can ask your dad.”
There could be dozens, she reminded herself. Any of his siblings could have married. Ethan might have children from his marriage to Rayanne, although they would be younger.
She shook her head to force out the thought of her encounter with his late wife. There was enough going on without that messing with her mind.
Tyler spun away and pumped his arms. “This is the best, Mom. I have a dad. We’re a family.”
They were a lot of things, but Liz didn’t think family qualified. Not with how much Ethan hated her.
“It’s going to be interesting,” she admitted. Perhaps not in a happy way, but that wasn’t Tyler’s problem.
“May I use the computer so I can send an e-mail to Jason?”
She nodded.
He ran out of the room. Seconds later, she heard the loud thundering of his steps on the old and creaking stairs.
At eleven, life was simple. A new dad was a great thing. There weren’t any complications, no ambivalence, no worries about the future. While she couldn’t seem to stop thinking about everything that could go wrong.
“Probably the reason I write what I do,” she murmured as she rose and walked to the sink to tackle the morning dishes. Some days murder and mayhem suited her mood. She would work out her frustrations on a deserving victim, then have her character find justice in the end.
But this wasn’t fiction—this was real life. And she had a feeling things weren’t going to be tidied up quite so easily for her.
CHAPTER FOUR
ETHAN DID HIS BEST TO WORK BUT by ten in the morning he’d given up on the pretense. He wasn’t fooling anyone, especially not himself. His sister Nevada had asked him twice if everything was all right. He’d told her that he was fine, but after spending twenty minutes doubling an order for lumber, only to realize it was for a job they’d completed two weeks ago, he knew he had to get out and clear his head.
“I’ll be back in an hour,” he yelled over his shoulder as he left the office.
“Don’t hurry back,” Nevada muttered, just loud enough for him to hear.
Normally he would have gone inside and called her on it, but not today. Not when he was still having trouble wrapping his mind around what had happened the night before.
He had a son, he thought, getting in his truck and starting the engine. A child. For eleven years and he’d never once known or imagined or guessed. All because Liz Sutton had kept the truth from him. Deliberately.
The rage that had poured through him the night before ignited again, burning hot and bright. He forced himself to focus on his driving, to pay attention to little things like stop signs and other traffic, as he steered the truck through town.
Rather than go to his place, he went back to the house where he’d grown up. If anyone could talk him down, it was his mother. Denise Hendrix had raised six kids, surviving the loss of her husband, Ralph, nearly a decade ago. She was the heart of the family, the one everyone turned to when there was a problem. She was rational, thoughtful and would be able to give him a perspective other than his own. Because right now all he wanted was to take his son and bolt.
Not a smart plan, he told himself as he drove through the familiar neighborhood, then turned into the driveway.