A Mother's Claim Read online

  As if he’d struck her, she fell back a step, making him feel like an asshole. But then she squared her shoulders again and lifted her chin. “Do you have any concept of the connection a woman feels with her unborn child? And then when she sees him, holds him, nurses him? What happens to both of them when that connection is snapped?”

  His gaze lowered to her breasts, full despite her overall thinness. He saw her, a breast bared to a blond baby who had latched on. Her head was bent, her hair falling forward, her tenderness palpable.

  When his eyes met hers again, he wondered what his face betrayed.

  “If I hadn’t understood, I wouldn’t have put his DNA online,” he said roughly. “What you have to understand is the power of the bond he and I have. I’ve been his father in every meaningful way.”

  “Every meaningful way?” Dana Stewart’s voice could have cut glass. “You are not his father either biologically or legally.”

  He hadn’t meant to issue threats, not yet, but heard himself say, “The legal part is...still a possibility.”

  Temper glinted in her eyes. “We’ll fight you tooth and nail.”

  “We? I thought there was no longer any ‘we’?”

  “Divorced doesn’t mean we aren’t united as Gabriel’s parents. And I should warn you that Craig is a wealthy man.” She flicked a glance around the store, a suggestion of disdain putting his back up. “He can afford the best legal team.”

  That possibility had been worrying him, but Nolan still had investments he could tap into. During his years in the military, he hadn’t had much reason to spend. That didn’t mean he was rich, however.

  So fight dirty. “Has it occurred to you,” he said softly, “that if he wins, you lose? Is that what you want? Your son going home with your ex-husband? You don’t really think he’s going to spend his money for you, do you?”

  She flinched before regaining control. Knowing his aim had been dead-on made him once again feel like shit, but the devastating truth was that he would lose Christian if he was nice.

  “You’re wrong.” Her voice gained strength. “We loved each other. Craig wouldn’t hurt me that way.”

  Nolan shrugged. “Your risk.”

  As if his insolence had been a trigger, her eyes narrowed and she said fiercely, “Gabriel is my son. If you help me, I’ll allow you to maintain a relationship with him. If you don’t...?” Her turn to shrug, after which she whirled around and walked away from him.

  His gaze followed her until the door closed behind her, the bell tinkling cheerfully. And then he went to the front window and kept watching as she followed the path to the inn, a hundred yards away.

  That tall, slim body might look fragile, but he had a bad feeling her backbone and will both were steel. She had suffered for a very long time, but now the future that had been only a dream was within her reach.

  He didn’t have any doubt that she had meant her threat. Both her threats.

  Nolan stayed where he was long after she vanished inside the Lookout Inn.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE HOSTILITIES HAD blown up so quickly Dana hadn’t had a chance to ask whether Gabriel would go straight home after school or to Mr. Gregor’s business. Or whether, knowing she would be here, they’d arranged for him to hide out at a friend’s.

  Nolan Gregor had said, “I’m not that petty,” but as she paced her room at the inn, her stomach still ached from his vicious reminder that her interests and Craig’s were not the same. It was painfully true that they weren’t a family anymore. He had backed off enough to allow her to make this trip alone, but Gabriel was his only son. He might insist on custody.

  And what if Gabriel would be best off with him? He was most attached now to a man he saw as a father. If the woman who had stolen him really had been mentally ill, he might never have had a relationship with her that he could depend on. And, face it, however desperate Dana was to have her son, she knew she didn’t have the faintest idea what a preteen boy needed, how he thought and felt. Look how poorly they’d communicated on the phone!

  Yes, she would fight tooth and nail—she’d meant that—but unless she was willing to alienate her son, she needed Nolan Gregor’s cooperation. There had to be a way to use his love for Gabriel to help her. First and foremost, they both wanted Gabriel happy.

  But honesty compelled her to admit that her urgent need to hold her son again, to have him turning to her with love and trust, drove her so powerfully that separating that need from what was best for Gabriel would be difficult. She had no doubt the same was true for Nolan. And circumstances made it easier for him to convince himself that what he wanted was also what Gabriel wanted.

  Christian.

  She might have to force herself to use that name at first, but she would never, could never, think of her son as Christian. Her little boy was Gabriel, the name she’d loved, the name she’d chosen.

  Nerves jumping, Dana checked her watch. Elementary school students were released at three thirty, according to the inn’s front-desk clerk. It was now three forty. She had driven by the school after her confrontation with Nolan Gregor. It was barely half a mile away, so she thought Gabriel would walk or ride a bike rather than take a bus. How long would it take him? Would he come straight here, or was he so reluctant to meet her he’d dawdle as long as he could?

  She pressed a hand to her stomach, churning enough that she was grateful she hadn’t eaten lunch.

  How petty would Nolan Gregor be?

  Picturing the man who went with the deep voice didn’t do anything to calm her. His sheer size had intimidated her. At five foot ten, she was tall for a woman. Her father and brother were well over six feet; Craig was, too. But they all had long, lanky builds. In contrast, Nolan Gregor’s shoulders would fill a doorway. His chest was broad, his legs powerful. She didn’t make the mistake of thinking he’d be lumbering and slow, like a football linebacker. In fact, instinct insisted she keep distance between them to give herself time to react, because she somehow knew if he did move, he’d be lightning fast. Remembering his mention of a military career, she wondered exactly what he’d done to develop that kind of muscle.

  It didn’t help that his face was...well, not handsome, exactly, but appealing, with prominent bones and a square jaw. Vivid blue eyes were a surprise considering his shaggy dark hair and dark stubble. She’d disconcerted herself by noticing his mouth and feeling a flicker of warmth she hardly recognized.

  No, no, no. The man mattered only because he was her adversary at the very least. She couldn’t afford to soften toward him in any way at all.

  She closed her eyes, dismissing him as she refocused on what mattered: Gabriel. A few deep breaths almost calmed her. It would take her five minutes to lock her room and make her way to the windsurfing shop next door.

  She left her handbag this time, tucking her key in her pocket. She walked with a deliberate speed, forcing herself to exchange a pleasant smile with a couple in the elevator and then the desk clerk. Out the door, turn left and follow the path across the lawn.

  Bright sails bloomed on the broad Columbia River. It took her a moment to see that while some were on boats, most sent single figures in wet suits skimming the choppy water on boards.

  More deep breaths, and Dana resumed her walk. When she saw the bike leaning against the side of the driftwood-gray clapboard building, her heart leaped, the beats so light and fast she imagined herself flying across the water.

  He’s here.

  Suddenly shaking, she literally ached, the hunger to feel her baby in her arms almost unbearable.

  She wasn’t thirty feet from the door. It seemed impossible, unreal, that this was happening, that he was so close. Alive. Good at math, athletic. Every dream that had sustained her for all these years was about to come true.

  What she had somehow never imagined was what would happen
after that magical moment when she first set eyes on him, wrapped him in her arms. In her dreams, he always said, “Mom?” in a voice of wonder. Instead, during their call he’d been angry, shouting, “I have a mom!” In her fantasies, he never refused to believe the woman he’d called Mother had stolen him from his real mother.

  Her mood shifting abruptly, she almost laughed. She had her miracle, and she was standing out here, terrified and despairing in advance?

  So it wouldn’t be as easy as she’d imagined. Of course it wouldn’t. He wasn’t the baby she remembered; he didn’t remember her at all. He was a whole person, shaped by strangers, including a mentally ill woman who’d claimed to be his mother. She ought to be grateful to Nolan, who had apparently given him stability and a home.

  Ultimately, however hostile he was now, he would have to work with her. She’d give him time, and he would recognize how little choice he had.

  Dana started forward again, feeling buoyed, lighthearted, as bright as all those sails.

  He’s here.

  * * *

  “WHY DO I have to see her?” Christian whined, even though he knew the answer. Because this woman was his actual, real mother.

  Even thinking that made him feel disloyal.

  Uncle Nolan didn’t bother to answer. “Brace yourself,” he said instead. “She’ll be here any second.”

  Uncle Nolan said she’d come by earlier and that she looked like Christian, which freaked him out. It was like if he couldn’t see any resemblance, he didn’t have to believe any of this was true.

  The bell on the door tinkled, and his fingers bit into his palms.

  Uncle Nolan’s gaze went past Christian, but his expression didn’t change. He had on what Christian thought of as his soldier face, emotionless, hard to read.

  “Ms. Stewart,” Uncle Nolan said, not exactly politely but not rudely, either.

  “Mr. Gregor.” The woman’s voice was husky, like the women on the radio.

  Shoulders stiff, Christian kept his back to her.

  “Gabe—Christian,” the woman said more quietly. “Please, let me see you.”

  Uncle Nolan’s look said, Do it.

  Taking a deep breath, Christian turned around. Seeing her felt like the shock he got sometimes touching the metal door of the freezer case in the grocery store. She did look like him, or like his mom should look. He’d never wondered why he didn’t look anything like Mom, because he’d thought he must look like his father. But now—

  He breathed too fast, in the grip of a panicky sense of guilt. Mom wasn’t here to tell anyone what really happened! Maybe she’d rescued him. Maybe he hadn’t been safe with his real parents. Just because this total, complete stranger said he’d been stolen—

  “You’re so tall,” she whispered. Until now she hadn’t even seemed to breathe, only stared with clear gray eyes, her lips slightly parted.

  Nobody had ever looked at him like this. He squirmed.

  Uncle Nolan’s hand closed on his shoulder. One squeeze, and Christian settled.

  “He’s already in a size-nine shoe,” Uncle Nolan said. “I’ve been thinking he won’t stop growing until he’s my height or taller.”

  “I—” Her breath sounded funny. “My father is six foot three, and my ex-husband—your father—” she added, not taking her eyes from Christian, “is about the same. He played guard for the Kansas Jayhawks—that’s the University of Kansas.”

  She was trying to outdo his real family. No way he was going to let her.

  “So?” He shrugged. “Uncle Nolan played football for Cal Berkeley. He even got drafted by the Cowboys, only he went in the army instead.”

  Her gaze strayed to his uncle. “Berkeley, huh?” A tiny smile might have been teasing. “Doesn’t seem to go with a military career.”

  Uncle Nolan said calmly, “If you’ve read Thucydides, you know that ‘the society that separates its scholars from its warriors will have its thinking done by cowards and its fighting by fools.’ I subscribe to that belief.”

  He was always quoting from Thucydides, an old Greek guy.

  “A historian,” the woman murmured. Her eyes went back to Christian. “Could we sit down somewhere? Or go for a walk together?”

  The scared feeling expanded in his chest. He looked at Uncle Nolan, who nodded. Christian saw Ms. Stewart’s eyes narrow a little, but she didn’t say anything.

  “I guess a walk.” He didn’t want to be, like, face-to-face with her.

  Again he felt the reassuring weight of his uncle’s big hand on his shoulder as he passed. He was trailing her to the front of the store when Uncle Nolan called, “Wait.”

  They both turned. Uncle Nolan wadded up Christian’s hooded sweatshirt and tossed it.

  “It’s cold out there.”

  He shrugged into it, thinking if he pulled up the hood, she wouldn’t be able to see his face.

  “It looks like there’s a trail along the river,” she said.

  “Yeah.”

  They walked in silence for a minute. He was more shambling; he really hoped none of his friends saw him. So far, nobody in town but him and Uncle Nolan knew about all this. Well, except for Dr. Santos, their family doctor, and whatever police officer had put Christian’s DNA online.

  He felt a spurt of anger because Uncle Nolan had done it even though he knew Christian didn’t want him to.

  “Why don’t I tell you about your father and me?” Ms. Stewart suggested. “You have two half sisters, too. And grandparents on both sides, a couple of aunts and uncles as well as—” she seemed to have to count “—six first cousins.”

  Christian ignored the flash of surprise and...interest. Were any of the cousins boys close to his age?

  “I had a grandma and grandpa,” he said sullenly. “And I have Uncle Nolan.”

  “I know you did. Do. Still. More family never hurts.” She paused, as if waiting for him to comment. When he didn’t, she went on to tell him about growing up in Colorado Springs, where her father had been a teacher and then principal of the high school. “A couple of years ago, he became superintendent of the whole district.” Her mother had stayed home when Ms. Stewart and her brother were little kids, then had gone back to work at a plant nursery. “Mom loves to garden,” she said softly. “I think she might like to live somewhere without such a challenging climate, but the mountains are so beautiful they make up for a lot.”

  Her brother liked the mountains so much he owned his own business providing guides for climbers. “Not that different from what your uncle Nolan does,” she added.

  Ms. Stewart did some kind of social work with women who were having a hard time making it on their own. Kind of like Mom, he couldn’t help thinking. Except Mom had been able to come home for help. She didn’t need anyone but family.

  “Your father is a businessman. He has an MBA—a master’s degree in business administration—from Harvard. He was always good with numbers, and he seems to have a gift for guessing what people will do before they do it. He has remarried and has two daughters, so you have half sisters.”

  She went on talking about his father’s family—his parents and a sister who was married to a guy on the Olympic luge team, that little sled that left you hanging out there when you hurtled down the icy curves. Christian remembered watching the Sochi Games with Uncle Nolan, who said those guys had to be nuts.

  “Of course, he’s not a blood relative, but you have plenty of talented athletes in your family tree.”

  He’d always thought he was like Uncle Nolan, who could do any sport and make it look easy. I am, he told himself now, fiercely. He didn’t even know these other people.

  “Will you...tell me more about yourself?” she asked hesitantly.

  She had to be kidding. What was he supposed to say?

  “I know you’re in
sixth grade.” She seemed to be trying to get him started. “Are you excited about starting middle school in the fall?”

  He hunched deeper in his sweatshirt. “I guess.”

  “And what about high school? Do you plan to play any sports?”

  “I don’t know,” he mumbled.

  “Do you have any hobbies? Collecting rocks or building a go-kart or learning to work on car engines or...” Sounded like she was running out of ideas.

  Building a go-kart? Really?

  Christian stopped and looked out at the river. Man, he wanted to be out there on a board instead of standing here with this woman who thought he should be her little boy when he wasn’t.

  “I windsurf. And I give lessons for Uncle Nolan.”

  “That’s pretty amazing at your age.” If she’d had pom-poms, she’d probably have waved them.

  “Can we go back now?” he asked.

  Without looking at her, he couldn’t tell whether the long silence meant she was surprised, mad or hurt, but he didn’t care. It was only because Uncle Nolan would be disappointed in him that he didn’t leave her and run back to the shop.

  “All right,” she said at last.

  They were halfway back when she asked, “Do you have any questions for me?”

  As if a dam had broken, all of his confusion and fears rushed out, like a river current when the water was running high. He lifted his eyes to hers. “Do you think I’m going to go live with you?”

  The wind had whipped color into her pale face, but her expression made him remember Uncle Nolan’s when he’d first seen all the blood that day.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Because I’m not! I want to stay here, with Uncle Nolan. And you can’t make me go!”

  He ran, sobbing, not letting himself look back.

  * * *

  THE AGONY WAS so great it was all she could do not to crumple to the paved path.

  Dana stood stricken, watching Gabriel run from her. No, not Gabriel—Christian. The boy who was a stranger. Who loved his uncle and wanted to hate her.