said she was determined to be pleasant if it killed her—and that she was convinced it might.
“Hi,” Natalie said, managing another smile, also.
“Hi. I heard Robbie telling you I baked some cookies. So come in and we’ll see how they turned out.”
GLAD SHE’D HAD the foresight to wear jeans, Natalie scuttled across the living room, trying her hardest to stay ahead of Robbie.
The fire engine had proved a major hit. And while he raced it around the floor, making loud siren wails, she was in charge of moving cars out of its path.
Unfortunately, there were so many of them that she kept hearing impatient honking noises among the wailing.
Every so often, when she’d managed to clear a stretch of “road,” she glanced over to where Hank was sitting on the couch. He was pretending to read the paper. But since he hadn’t turned a page in half an hour, she knew he was actually keeping a close eye on them. And she couldn’t stop imagining what he must be thinking—not to mention feeling.
Looking away, she reminded herself that she had every right to spend some time with her own son. She shouldn’t have a sense of guilt about it.
But she knew why she did. She was getting what she wanted at Hank’s expense, and she’d really prefer that wasn’t the way things had to be.
“Robbie?” he said.
They both turned toward him.
“You’re going to wear Natalie out. Maybe you should do something a little quieter for a while.”
“What?”
“Play with one of your puzzles? Or see if she’ll read you a story?”
“Wanna do a puzzle?” he asked her.
“Sure.”
She watched him hurry over to the bookcase, the bottom two shelves of which were obviously his. Then, as he knelt poking through his things, she glanced at Hank once more.
Because her anxiety level had been sky-high the other day, her memory of the entire visit was a bit of a blur. But she recalled realizing that he wasn’t what she’d expected. And that those conclusions she’d jumped to, after reading Rodger Spicer’s report, hadn’t all been accurate.
Oh, she still had trouble with his being a police detective. Aside from anything else, she couldn’t understand what would make someone want to work in homicide.
But setting that aside, he’d obviously been doing a great job with Robbie—which gave her strangely mixed feelings.
She’d always hoped and prayed that, wherever her son was, he’d been adopted by good people. But somehow, at the same time, she’d imagined that when she finally found him she’d be rescuing him from a family that hadn’t given him nearly as much love as he deserved.
Now, however, she’d come face-to-face with reality. And the reality was that Robbie was a happy, secure child—whom Hank loved very much.
It was almost enough to start her wondering if she was making a mistake. If she should back away and content herself with being far less a part of his life than she wanted to be.
But how could she?
She’d felt him growing inside her, and had given birth to him. Held him when he was barely a minute old. Nursed him. And she’d never stopped loving him with all her heart.
He was part of her. Part of Carlos. How could she back away from that?
The sound of a phone ringing interrupted her thoughts, and a second later Robbie trotted over to her with a painted wooden puzzle. They’d just spread all the pieces right side up on the floor, when Audrey hurried into the room.
“That was Mark,” she told Hank. “He and Valerie just got to the hospital.”
“Do you want me to call about a flight?” Hank asked her. “Get you on the earliest one I can?”
“Oh, yes, please. I’m so excited I can hardly think straight, let alone deal with the airlines.”
“Oh, and Hank,” she added as he was heading off, “don’t book a return one that comes in too late.
“My daughter’s having her first baby,” she explained to Natalie as Hank disappeared. “They live in Idaho, so I’m not likely to arrive before she delivers.
“But we decided it made more sense to have most of my time there afterward, with her and the baby, than sit around just waiting, beforehand.
“You know how it is with firstborns. Well, of course you do—you’re a doctor. They can be weeks late.”
“Yes, they certainly can.”
She glanced at her firstborn. Her only born. He’d been a mere eight days late, but she’d thought she’d never go into labor.
“Oh, now I’m wondering if I should have said I’d stay longer than two weeks and gone earlier,” Audrey murmured. “Then I could be in the delivery room with her. But I just didn’t want to take too much time away from Robbie.”
“Who’ll be looking after him while you’re away?”
For a fleeting second, the hope that they might have no one lined up and that she could do it flitted through her mind.
But she told herself they’d have something arranged, even before Audrey said, “One of my friends. She’s a widow, too, so she can move in on a moment’s notice.”
Audrey turned toward Robbie, saying, “You’re going to be good as gold for Mrs. Harmand, aren’t you.”
He nodded.
“And will you miss me?”
“Uh-huh.”
“How much?”
Grinning, he stretched his arms apart as widely as they’d go.
“Well, good, because I’m going to miss you, too. A whole bunch. But I’ll be back soon.”
Focusing on Natalie again, she said, “Will you be all right here until Hank’s off the phone? I’m basically packed, but I’ve got some last-minute things to gather up.”
“Sure, we’ll be fine. We’re just getting started on the puzzle. Right, Robbie?”
“Uh-huh.” He turned his attention back to it as Audrey hurried from the room.
Natalie sat on the floor beside him, very aware this was her first time alone with him in over three years.
Her throat tight with emotion, she desperately wanted to wrap her arms around him and hug him half to death. She didn’t make a move, though.
She knew better than to try to force herself on a child—even if he was her own—so she merely watched him, her eyes drinking in the
