on the door. It was heaven for a frazzled young mother. Your father, bless his heart, realized that with three small boys a year apart in age, I needed some time for myself.” She smiled. “So tell me about Madison and the whopper.”
“She came to my office today,” he started, watching his mother’s face.
“That’s a start. Togetherness breeds familiarity—or something like that,” she said with a laugh. “I’ve always thought the two of you—”
“Ma, there is no two of us—”
“Have you ever heard the expression ‘One is a lonely number’? It’s about time you got yourself a love life. You’re not getting any younger, Luke. You work too hard. Soul mates don’t grow on trees. You’ve got to get out there and shake some branches. Find Ms. Right. Maddie is a wonderful girl—”
“I didn’t come here to discuss my love life.”
“Then why did you come, dear?” she asked calmly. “I can tell you’ve got something on your mind. What’s troubling you?”
“Your love life.”
She laughed. “Very funny. Every time your father or I have made allusions to our love life you kids make gagging noises and clear the room.”
His nerves cranked up a notch. He had to know about her love life. “Do you know a guy named Brad Stephenson?” He gripped the back of the wooden chair until his knuckles ached.
Her body language was all the answer he needed. She went completely still as her eyes widened and her skin paled. “Brad Stephenson?” she whispered.
“So you do know him.” Blood pounded in his ears. The barrier between him and the threatening pain cracked.
She nodded. “He was your father’s accountant years ago.”
There could still be a misunderstanding. Just because she knew him didn’t mean she’d slept with the man. “Maddie came to the office today and you won’t believe the wild story she told me. This guy Stephenson died—”
“Oh, no,” his mother gasped as her hand fluttered over her breast.
“You cared about him?” he asked, studying her shocked expression. The knot in his gut tightened a notch.
“Tom and I both liked him,” she said cautiously. “I’m sorry to hear he’s passed away.”
“Here’s where the whopper comes in.” He swallowed hard to get the words past the constriction in his throat. “He left a will, and Maddie inherited the account. She says I’m the beneficiary, that the guy is my father. Can you believe that?”
Flo sighed as she took off her reading glasses and set them on the table. She closed the newspaper and folded it in half, then quarters. The moment stretched into what felt like an eternity as his mother gathered her composure.
Lifting a gaze filled with tragedy, she said, “It’s true, Luke. Brad Stephenson is your father.”
Stunned didn’t begin to describe what he felt. He could hardly breathe. It was as if hands had reached into his chest, squeezing all the vital organs he needed to draw in a single breath of air. It was as if her words tapped into a motherlode of shock. Pain flooded him. He couldn’t get his mind around the fact that his mother, his Rock of Gibraltar on all things, could have done what she was saying.
“It was a long time ago,” she continued. “I’d like to explain—”
“And about damn time, don’t you think? When were you going to tell me?” Hurt and betrayal made him go cold inside.
She stood up and looked him straight in the eye. “Don’t take that tone with me. I’m still your mother and deserving of your respect.”
“Does Dad know? I mean Tom. Does he know?”
“Of course he does. I wouldn’t keep something like that from him.”
“But you kept it from me.”
“You were a baby.”
“I’m not now.” He stared at her. “Does anyone else know?”
“Your brother Joe.”
“Half brother,” he clarified.
She lifted her chin slightly. “I had to tell him. He was having a personal crisis. I talked to him so he could work some things through. He needed to understand that every relationship goes through ups and downs. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I also gave him permission to tell all of you about it. Apparently he decided not to. He doesn’t know about you, just my indiscretion—”
“Such a tidy word for it,” he said. “Isn’t there a neat little word for what I am?”
“Don’t talk like that.”
“Why? I believe the correct term is bastard. Or maybe the fact that you were married at the time makes it less ugly. Or more ugly? Maddie’s right. I’ll have to call her office and get legal counsel just to find out what label to use.”
He was behaving like an idiot. But he couldn’t seem to help himself. She’d lied to him about something as basic as who he was.
“Stop it, Luke. Let me explain—”
“You just did. But here’s the abbreviated version. You slept with another man while you were married to Dad—sorry. Tom. It’s going to take some time to get the principal players and labels straight.”
She held her head high. “Even condemned criminals get an opportunity to defend themselves. If you’ll just give me a chance—”
“I’m thirty years old. Seems like you’ve had plenty of chances.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Neither you or Tom felt the need to explain to me that I’m living a lie.” It wasn’t a question.
“Because you’re not. Your father and I had problems in our marriage. We worked them out. We both love you very much. Never doubt that—”
“Don’t have doubts? That’s asking an awful lot. You’ve let me grow up in a fantasy. Hell of a way to get a reality check, by the way. From the family attorney. Give me one good reason why I should believe you now?”
She laced her fingers together, and he was struck by her dignity in the face of his angry tirade. As soon as the thought entered his mind, he pushed it away. She’d cheated. She’d lied. How could he admire anything about her?
She drew in a deep breath. “Whatever ugly names you’re not calling me to my face are no less than I deserve. But know this, Son—”
“Don’t call me that,” he ground out.
“I will,” she said firmly. “You are my child, my son. I love you unconditionally. There’s nothing you could do that would make me stop loving you. I did as any mother would—what was best for you. Your father and I discussed—”
“Which father? Sorry, but you’re going to have to be more specific.
