30. Zach
30
ZACH
G eorge was my son.
It didn’t bowl me over. If I hadn’t already considered it as a possibility, I would’ve been zoned out, stuck in shock and unable to move. But I had wondered, and as I moved out into the hallway so no one would watch me and wonder why I was acting off in here, I realized that my guess prepared me and had me bracing for this very reality. I’d planned to ask Blake, but I didn’t want to stress her out.
And no sense of urgency had filled me to ask her. I’d come to terms with being here anyway and knowing I could ask her about George’s father when the time felt right. Leaving Vernford ceased being a goal when I first called her my sweetheart. Because she was. And I wanted her to keep that title.
When the thought that George could be my son first took root in my mind, it did so with the corresponding need to ask Blake. I had imagined hearing the truth from her, hopefully with an explanation of why she’d kept this truth from me.
What I hadn’t counted on was hearing it from Reagan, of all people. Or that she’d be gossiping about George or Blake like this. I was livid at the replay of her words in my mind, that her fucking cousin had stolen a sample from George for a DNA test. That was all kinds of wrong. It was illegal, unethical, and so messed up, I wouldn’t settle for only telling the cops about it. I’d make him answer to me, too.
I never thought I’d learn the depth of rage like this. Women could claim mama bear aggression to defend their young. And I was diving headfirst into experiencing what it could mean to be a papa bear. How dare that asshole invade on my son’s health information? How fucking dare they take George’s water bottle for the deceptive and intrusive plan to get his spit for a sample!
But what did it match to?
Before I could derail any further with this bombshell, I wondered how Rory could’ve gotten a match.
I grabbed my phone and walked further down the hallway, away from the noisy classrooms where kids were getting ready to go to lunch, have parties, or prepare for holiday programs to put on for family and friends.
Amanda was off for break already since high schoolers finished their semester exams yesterday. I video called her and furrowed my brow as I waited for her to pick up.
“Hey,” she answered, all smiles. Until she saw my expression. “Uh-oh.”
“Have you ever done one of those DNA kits?” I asked.
“No.” She shrugged. “But I think Grandma Jenny gifted one to her sister who lives in San Diego. Why?”
I rubbed my hand over my face. “Because Rory Francis wanted to know who George’s dad was before he tried to marry Blake and step in as his dad.”
Her eyes opened wide. “No. What! No, she’d never marry him.”
“That’s beside the point,” I snapped. “Reagan had Brent steal George’s water bottle?—”
“The one with the T-rex sticker on it? We’ve been looking for it everywhere.”
I glowered at her. “Not. The. Point.”
She winced. “Sorry.”
“Brent stole George’s water bottle so Rory could run a DNA kit on his spit, and it matched with West family results from the Vernford area—meaning I’m George’s father. Reagan was talking about it, and I overheard just now. She fessed up.”
She clamped her lips shut and cleared her throat. “Oh. Wow . That’s… crazy.”
I frowned. “You—” I blinked, leaning back against the wall, stunned more about the fact that she knew. “You knew? And kept this from me?”
“No. No, no, no, no.” She shook her head as she walked outside from what looked like Target. “No.”
“You didn’t know? Funny, because your reaction was not one of surprise.”
“No, I did know.”
“And didn’t tell me!” I bit my lip, holding in a growl.
“I only recently found out. Don’t get mad at me for not telling you. Blake asked me not to.”
That hurt. That she’d go so far to lie to me. Right when I had to fall in love with her.
“I overheard her talking to Sara at the holiday festival. And I was shocked. I didn’t know. Like since George was born, but like, I was younger then and it wasn’t my business, and yeah. I didn’t know. Until, like, a couple of weeks ago.”
That sort of helped. It helped that she hadn’t lied to me, too. “Does Grandma Jenny know?”
She shook her head. “As far as I can tell, no. But I wonder if she’s wondered. I told Blake she had to tell you. I insisted that she tell you. That’s why I thought to take George to that movie. Remember, I said I’d give you and Blake time to talk.”
Aha. That’s why she was acting weird when she said that. Then Blake and I didn’t talk at all, preferring to have sex all night. My… bad?
“She felt terrible not to tell you yet.”
“Then why the hell didn’t she?” I struggled with a spike of slight anger, confused but hurt. “I had a right to know.”
“Well, in her defense, you weren’t here. You took off after Kevin’s funeral and only returned now.”
I nodded, hanging my head. “I was gone, but hell. A text. A call. An email.”
“Tell me this.” She got stern. “If she told you, would you have come home?”
“Yes!” This was my son she was talking about.
“And you wouldn’t have resented Blake—or George—for being the reason you left the military? As in the one career you always wanted. The one ‘purpose’ you claimed to have in life just because Dad expected it of you? The one thing you made your life mission in order to follow in Dad’s footsteps?”
I let my shoulders sag with a sigh.
“I don’t blame her. Zach, you enlisted and came home for Kevin’s funeral. That’s it. You never gave anyone a clue that you could want a life here or in one place.”
“I… I know.”
“Tell me this,” she said again. “If you hadn’t been discharged and basically forced out of the military, would you have willingly wanted to come home?”
I shook my head.
“Then it’s no wonder she assumed you wouldn’t welcome the news of a son back home. It’s not a mystery at all. She likely assumed that you would begrudge anything that pulled you out of what you always wanted to do.”
Would I? The answer was clear. “No.” I let out a deep breath, knowing in my heart that wouldn’t be true. “I get it. I understand why she would’ve been hesitant to tell me. I hadn’t made it a secret that I wanted to retire from a long career in the service. If I knew George was here, though, I would’ve stepped up. He’s my son.”
Damn, what a rush it was to say that out loud. To own it. To acknowledge who I was now. A father.
She nodded, smiling. “That’s what I sort of figured too. But Blake never knew. No one could.”
“Okay, but then why wouldn’t she tell me now? Why hide it when being in the army is no longer tying me down?”
“Because you said you’d leave after the holidays.”
I groaned, recalling how quiet Blake was when I said that. “Fuck.”
She raised her brows. “Are you?” she asked in a quiet voice.
I shot her an incredulous look. “When the woman I love and my son live here? No .”
She beamed, so happy at my reply. “Then tell her!”
“I would. If she were here.” I frowned as I looked at my watch. So far, she hadn’t been one of the parents walking in for the Holidays with My Family presentation that was being set up in the library.
“Where is she?” She frowned. “George’s big presentation will start soon.”
I nodded. “Look, we’ll talk later.”
“Okay. We will.”
After I disconnected the call, I checked my texts and frowned again. Nothing from Blake. She knew how important this was for George. She wouldn’t miss it. And I checked her alarms on her phone. Volume on. AM versus PM correct.
Zach: Hey, where are you?
Blake: I’m feeling sick.
“Dammit.” I sighed and checked the time again. If she couldn’t pull herself together and rush here, she’d miss it. It had to be more of that inconvenient stomach bug. Half the staff had been absent because of it. It was a contagious bug, that was for sure, ruining plans and keeping people home.
I pictured George standing on that little stage and holding up his poster he made of his family tree. Looking for his mom in the audience and not finding her.
No way. Not happening. I jogged down the hall, searching for the preschool rooms. Ms. Erin was guiding kids out in an orderly line, but I passed her until I saw George sulking with his head down in line.
“Hey, kiddo.” Hello, Son. Elation filled me, but I wouldn’t trespass on Blake’s parenting and tell him the news. It had to come from her. From both of us, and suddenly, I couldn’t fucking wait to tell this smart and caring boy that I was his father.
“Hi, Mr. Zach.” He looked up at me, scuffing his toes on the floor at the end of the line.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Brent was talking.” He tipped his head toward the head of the line where the bully joked with another boy. “And he said Mama won’t be out there watching me. No one will come up to stand with me when it’s my turn. Because she’ll be busy working and she’s all I got.” He lowered his arm, letting his poster drag on the floor.
My heart ached. It split in half and I wanted to rage at the idea of him this sad.
“No. Not true.” I crouched to his level. What sucked was that I doubted she’d be there, too sick to come. “I mean, she does work too much, if you ask me, but that will probably change.” It would. Fuck her struggling and being too proud to take or ask for help. As my wife, she’d learn to balance being a caterer and a mother. I smiled at the idea of it.
My son.
My wife.
This was the best damn Christmas to look forward to ever. Pieces were falling into place quickly, at a blurring speed, but it felt so right.
“George, your mom just texted me that she’s sick. I think she’s got the stomach bug and she won’t be here.”
He sniffled.
“Here, I know.” I gestured for him to bring his poster into the room before the class filed off toward the library. I grabbed a spare construction paper leaf, wrote Sgt. Zachary West . Then I glued it to a branch parallel to the leaf he had with Mama on it.
He gawked at me.
“Your mom’s not here, but I am.”
He blinked at the leaf I glued on. “But… but you’re not my dad.”
I smiled, excited for when I could correct him about that. “Maybe I can be, right?” I wouldn’t tell him anything definitive without Blake here. But I worded it loosely enough to support him with the possibility.
He smiled, slowly at first until it was so big it covered his whole face. “Okay.”
I patted his back, then looked back at his poster. He’d put Amanda and Grandma Jenny on there too, but their leaves would need to be arranged. He had an aunt. He had a great-grandma. He had me , too. “So you go on out there, and when it’s your turn, I’ll be there.”
“Okay!” He rushed at me to hug me tight, then hurried into line.
I’m sorry I haven’t been here all this time.
But that wasn’t only my fault. It was Blake’s. It was both of us at fault.
Now, there was only the future, and I would be here for it.
I watched him walk down to the library, so fucking proud of him and how Blake had raised him that my heart could burst. After they entered the library, I slipped into the audience.
George’s turn came, and when he stood up to announce his family, I stood and cut through the crowd. Taking my place to stand next to my boy, I looked at the crowd of Vernford parents. Most were shocked at the clear implication that I was giving them, that I was George’s father, but I didn’t care. I took George’s hand and held it tight, honored to be his dad.