A Mother's Claim Read online

  And Nolan couldn’t imagine his life without the boy who was his only family.

  And yet...what if somewhere were parents who still mourned their lost child? He didn’t want to think his sister had been capable of snatching a baby from a loving family, but he couldn’t be sure.

  Christian’s DNA might have been entered in databases of missing children and been waiting all these years for a match.

  Perhaps the boy’s biological mother had been a teenager living on the street, unable to care for him. Marlee might even have found him abandoned.

  God, how Nolan wanted to believe in that as an explanation.

  In the weeks that followed, he had trouble thinking about anything else. His heart and his conscience engaged in silent warfare.

  It’s the right thing to do.

  I could lose him.

  If his parents pop up and want him back...what will that do to Christian?

  He told himself constantly that he could take his time, think about the consequences of every conceivable choice. That baby boy had become Christian Josiah Gregor a very long time ago, which meant there was no hurry for Nolan to make a decision. A few weeks, months, at this point, what difference did it make?

  * * *

  FLOATING ON A cloud of well-being, Dana Stewart didn’t want to open her eyes. The aftereffects of a dream lingered. She could feel the precious weight of her son in her arms, smell baby powder and his natural sweetness. The sensation of happiness was so rare she would have given anything to hold on to it.

  But, inevitably, she woke up and the glow succumbed to crushing pain and guilt.

  Still she lay there, refusing to open her eyes. If she did, she’d have to see her empty, lonely bedroom, the one she’d once shared with her husband. She and Craig had divorced a year after Gabriel’s disappearance.

  Too awake now to hold on to the dream, she opened her eyes at last to see her bedroom door open to the hall, as always. She never closed her door or the one into Gabe’s room, not anymore. Dana knew how irrational she was being, but she couldn’t fight a desperate need to...hear.

  She followed her usual routine: check her phone to be absolutely sure she hadn’t somehow missed a call or text, get out of bed, choose something to wear, shower, force down some toast or a bagel with peanut butter.

  It had taken her years to do more than snatch a few hours of interrupted sleep. Even now, she didn’t sleep deeply.

  She didn’t enjoy eating anymore, either. It had always puzzled her that she hadn’t gone the other way; she’d loved food, once upon a time, loved to cook and had been just a little plump. Now...she ate to sustain life. She doubted Craig would recognize her. Occasionally, she encountered an old friend and saw shock.

  Really, she was healthier than she’d ever been. She ran up to five miles a day, usually when she got home from work. Her diet consisted of whole grains, vegetables, fruit and nuts. She had a runner’s thin body but didn’t care how she looked.

  On the surface, she lived—had friends, spent time with her family, held a fulfilling job. But she would sacrifice every other relationship to find Gabriel. That hole inside her, the search, secretly consumed her.

  She haunted websites devoted to missing children, posting reminders of her lost son wherever she could. Once a year, she called the detective who had investigated fruitlessly, even though he was now a district commander in the Aurora, Colorado, police department. He was always polite and sympathetic; yes, he would do some follow-up. He always called a few days later to say that nothing new had come up. Although she knew he was thinking it, he didn’t say, Lady, your son is dead. You need to deal with reality.

  If she had believed, truly believed, that Gabe was dead, she wasn’t sure she’d have reason to live. But if Gabriel ever was found, he would need her. She couldn’t surrender entirely to despair.

  She would go to work, immerse herself in other people’s problems, try to find them help, soften their burdens. She’d come home, run until her body ached, eat what she must, read or watch some meaningless television show and finally go to bed, where she would only allow herself to sleep lightly, listening for the faintest of sounds.

  She would keep doing it.

  But every hour, every day, every week and month and year, scoured her out until less and less of the old Dana survived.

  * * *

  UNCLE NOLAN HAD been really quiet since Christian got home from school. Well, not home home—most days, if he wasn’t hanging with friends, he rode his bike to his uncle’s business, which had a private beach on the Columbia River. Uncle Nolan had bought the business when he came back from Afghanistan for good, and immediately made a deal with a really cool small inn to take over an old boathouse and expand it on land leased from them. Then he’d sold the original building on the main street.

  It wasn’t like he’d been busy today; hardly anybody wanted to rent windsurfing gear or a sailboat or kayak in late January, when the weather was this cold and wet. Usually Uncle Nolan didn’t seem to mind slow stretches; he said the busy seasons more than made up for them.

  But today he’d been sitting behind a computer and barely looked up when Christian walked in. All he said was, “Homework.”

  Uncle Nolan used as few words as possible, listening more than he talked. This was kind of different, though. Usually he at least said hi and asked about Christian’s day. He’d been more withdrawn since Mom died. He brooded a lot, which was okay. Christian did, too, going up to his room to lie on his bed, stare up at the ceiling and wonder how Mom could have done that. Hadn’t she worried about him at all? He knew she was sick, but hadn’t she loved him? What if she had changed her mind at the last second but it was too late?

  Was dying like they said, following a white light? In killing herself, had she committed such a sin she was condemned to a horrible eternity? Or was she just...gone? Erased? Uncle Nolan had talked with him about what different people believed and had shaken his head when Christian asked what he thought.

  “I wish I could tell you.” He’d stared into the distance, but not as if he was seeing anything. “You know what I did in the military.”

  Christian nodded.

  “I saw a lot of men killed.”

  Christian knew his uncle had probably killed a bunch of those men. Sometimes he thought that’s why Uncle Nolan was so quiet. Maybe those dead men haunted him.

  But what he’d said then was, “I’ve never seen a ghost. Never had a hint of one of my buddies coming back to let me know he’s okay on the other side. Not sure I believe it when someone claims Grandma appeared the day after the funeral to say goodbye. But I can’t discount the possibility that there is an afterlife. Any minister will tell you there is, and most people believe it.”

  “I wish—” Christian wasn’t even sure what he’d meant to say. He wished Mom hadn’t done it? Or that she was watching over him, like people had claimed she was? Or that she hadn’t been crazy to start with?

  But Uncle Nolan had pulled him into a tight hug and said, in his deep voice, “I do, too, son.”

  And Christian knew he really did understand. That he had all the same wishes, never sure which one to go for, because he had loved Christian’s mom even though he got really mad at her, too.

  They had sat there long enough Christian should have been embarrassed, but he wasn’t, because Uncle Nolan wasn’t. Nobody could say Uncle Nolan wasn’t a really tough guy. If he thought it was okay to hug, then it was.

  Today Christian didn’t argue. He had a bunch of homework. He was in a pullout program to take an advanced math class, and they were doing some algebra and geometry, which he really liked. Today’s problems were hard, and he was still working on them when Uncle Nolan said, “Closing time.”

  He threw Christian’s bike in the back of his Suburban, then said, “I ordered a pizza.”

 
“Cool!”

  They picked up an extralarge with practically everything on it. Uncle Nolan cooked broccoli, too. They always had a vegetable with dinner, no matter what else they were eating. Then they sat down and gorged.

  Uncle Nolan did finally ask about his day and grimaced when Christian asked if he’d done any business at all.

  “Sold a couple of Naish sails because I have them discounted. Harness lines, a vest, some little stuff.” Then he grinned. “Couple of cocky young guys rented a Hobie Cat.” That was a kind of small sailboat. Uncle Nolan thought they were ideal for rentals. “Came back an hour later with blue lips and chattering teeth, real sorry they hadn’t accepted my recommendation and rented wet suits, too.”

  Christian laughed.

  Like always, they cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher together; Uncle Nolan didn’t like anything left lying around, especially not dirty dishes.

  Christian headed for the stairs. “I’ve still got homework to finish.”

  Uncle Nolan said, “I need to talk to you first.” The way he said that scared Christian. It was kind of like when he’d had to tell Christian Mom was dead.

  He went back to the table and sat down.

  Uncle Nolan pulled out a chair, too. He sighed, rubbed his neck and sighed some more. Finally, he met Christian’s eyes. “I don’t know any way to soften this, so here goes. When Jason whacked you with that ax, I found out your blood type.”

  Christian nodded.

  “You have O positive. That’s pretty common.” He obviously didn’t want to say the rest. “It shook me up, because it meant my sister couldn’t be your biological mother.”

  On an explosion of fear, Christian shoved his chair back. “That’s not true!”

  Lines that weren’t usually there creased Uncle Nolan’s forehead. “I’m afraid it is. You know I had Dr. Santos draw your blood the week after you were hurt.”

  Still not having risen to his feet, Christian went very still. He’d kind of wondered why, when he was seeing their family doctor to make sure the wound hadn’t gotten infected or anything like that, he’d had to give blood. Especially after he’d lost so much.

  “The lab he sent the sample to verified the result. I requested your mom’s medical records to be sure I wasn’t misremembering.”

  He lectured then, about blood types and why someone with AB blood couldn’t have a child with O blood, even if the other parent had it. He said he’d tried to get Marlee to tell him how she’d come to adopt Christian but she wouldn’t. Christian had heard enough to know they were arguing, but not what it was about. Now he did.

  Scared like he’d never been, even when he was bleeding so much he thought he would die, Christian whispered, “But if she adopted me, it’s legal, right?”

  “I can’t find any paperwork.” Worry and sadness made Uncle Nolan look different than usual. “I can see her not bothering to go to court for a decree. She had trouble following a bunch of steps or conforming to what people expected of her.”

  “But...if she didn’t...where did she get me?”

  “You know she lived on the streets sometimes. Your biological mother could have been a teenager or an addict she met there, unable to take care of you. Marlee would have known that Grandma and Grandpa and I would help if she brought you home.”

  He swallowed and made himself say, “Does that mean I can’t stay with you?”

  “No.” Uncle Nolan’s jaw muscles bulged. “I’ll fight dirty to keep you, if it ever comes to that. And if there’s one thing I learned at Fort Bragg and overseas, it’s how to fight dirty.”

  Christian let himself breathe out and nod.

  “Here’s the thing, though.” Uncle Nolan squeezed the back of his neck, like it hurt. “There’s one other possibility we have to think about.”

  Christian got scared again. Really scared.

  “You know when your mom was off her meds, she didn’t always know what she was doing. She’d think things were true that weren’t.”

  He nodded numbly.

  Uncle Nolan had these bright blue eyes. Right now they were really dark, and Christian saw that he did hurt.

  “I need to make sure she didn’t steal you.”

  “She wouldn’t!”

  Uncle Nolan didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. Mom had gotten arrested a few times for shoplifting. Confused, she forgot she had to pay for things she wanted.

  So...she did steal sometimes.

  “I’ve wrestled with myself about this. A big part of me doesn’t want to do anything about what we know. You’re mine, and I want to keep it that way.”

  Christian waited, fire scorching his stomach.

  “But then I imagine how I’d feel if you disappeared and I never knew what had happened to you. What if you had parents who loved you deeply and you were taken from them? How can we go on the way we are and leave them suffering?”

  Christian didn’t care about anybody else, so long as he could stay with Uncle Nolan.

  “I’m not asking your permission.” His uncle’s blue eyes were regretful now. “I can’t live with myself if I don’t do this.”

  He shrank back. “What’s...this?”

  “We need to take a DNA sample—which we can get from some spit, so it’s no big deal—and have someone at the sheriff’s department list it in a couple of databases.”

  “So...somebody can find me.” He was shaking.

  “So if your DNA is already in one of those databases, a match will come up.”

  “You’ll let them take me, won’t you?” Suddenly he was on his feet shouting. “You can’t say no if they come! They’ll just take me.” He backed away. “You lied. You’re just like Mom. You’re both liars!”

  And he ran, not caring that it was dark and cold and raining outside. He didn’t slow down even to slam the back door behind him. He just kept running.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “PHOENIX HAS BEEN ACCEPTED.” Dana smiled at the very young woman across from her. “His enrollment starts at the beginning of the quarter. The child-care facility is right off campus, which makes drop-off and pickup easy for students. It won’t cost you a cent, as long as you stay in school full-time and receive passing grades.”

  This was the best part of her job working at a nonprofit focused on helping single women with children find opportunities. Lucy Evans had been considerably easier to help than many of Dana’s clients. Not quite twenty, she had a two-year-old boy. Her mother lived at a subsistence level and was unable to help except for babysitting evenings when Lucy worked at a bar. Lucy and her little boy drifted from shelters to cheap by-the-week motels back to shelters. Her income gave her no hope of anything better. So far, she had avoided the trap of going from man to man, smart enough to recognize that the men she met in those bars and run-down motels couldn’t offer economic and emotional stability. What she had over many of Dana’s clients, besides common sense, was a high school diploma and grades that would have won her admission to a four-year college had she not become pregnant her senior year.

  After struggling since her son’s birth, she had finally come to A Woman’s Lifeline and begged for help. Since Dana had first talked to her, Lucy had been accepted into the local community college nursing program, starting summer quarter. Scholarships would cover the cost of tuition and books. She could continue her evening job, taking advantage of her mother’s willingness to babysit. Because of the child-care program Dana had secured for them, Lucy could devote breaks between classes to studying. Dana had also found her subsidized housing at a cost she thought Lucy could handle.

  This was one young woman, Dana believed, who would make it and emerge strong and capable.

  Dana was intensely grateful that A Woman’s Lifeline provided free on-site child care while its clients met with their caseworkers. She had se
en Phoenix when she first talked with Lucy, and the sight of him had been like a stiletto to her heart. His brown eyes, blond hair and grin couldn’t possibly look as much like Gabriel’s as her first reaction suggested. Even so, it was far safer to avoid seeing him at all.

  Lucy jumped to her feet as Dana stood and threw her arms around her. “Thank you!” Tears shimmered in her eyes. “You’ve done so much for us. It’s like a miracle.”

  “You’re very welcome,” she said. “Watching you succeed is going to give me more satisfaction than you can imagine. And, just so you know, I have no doubt whatsoever that you will succeed.”

  Lucy was still wiping her eyes when she exited. Dana was surprised to find she had to blow her nose, too.

  Fifteen minutes before her next appointment gave her time to have a cup of coffee. She was leaving her office when her mobile phone rang, the sound muffled because her purse was in a desk drawer. Knowing she was most often with clients during the day, friends and family rarely called during working hours. Heart pounding, she went back to her desk, fumbled the drawer open and delved into her handbag until she came up with the phone. She hated the hope that rose every single time the damn thing rang. Eleven years of painful, useless hope. It would be a neighbor letting her know she had a package UPS dropped off, or her dentist’s office urging her to schedule a cleaning.

  She didn’t recognize the number, but it was local. She answered with a simple “Hello.”

  “Ms. Stewart?”

  The familiar voice made her dizzy enough to grope for the arm of her desk chair and then sink into it.

  “This is Commander Knapp from the Aurora PD.”

  As if she wouldn’t know who he was. Dana could not summon a single word.

  “I’m happier than I can say to tell you we’ve had a hit on NamUs.” He knew he didn’t have to explain anything about the National Missing and Unidentified Persons System, not to her. “Your son is alive and well in a small town in Oregon.”

  Something that should have been happiness but felt more like anguish swelled in her, pressing against her rib cage, rising in her throat, burning in her sinuses. She tried to speak, but she seemed to burst open at that moment, sobbing as she had never sobbed before. She couldn’t stop herself. She sat there, gripping the phone, and cried without even trying to check the deluge.