Chapter Nine
A s the sun was rising the next morning, Lucas slipped out of her bedroom. Bayleigh showered, still feeling the sparkles of his touch on her skin, still amazed that she’d allowed this... this thing... to occur. She was pulling on her jeans when the text came in from Lucas.
Bumped into Ted on my way out. Sorry.
Bayleigh winced. Why today, of all days, did Ted have to be in the kitchen at exactly the wrong time?
Then she straightened. She was a grown woman. She didn’t have to apologize to anyone about her private life, least of all her son.
But when she walked into the kitchen, and saw her sweet son’s face, her resolve wavered.
“God, Mom,” he said with a groan. “If you wanted me to move out, you could have just said so. And where’s the rest of the stew?”
“We ate it.” She tousled his hair, attempting a casual tone. “You can’t move out. You have to graduate high school first.”
One more year to go. He’d be on his way to college this fall if he hadn’t spent so much time in hospital and rehab. And if he wanted to go to college.
He angled away from her. “Seriously. You hooked up with that guy? This is a nightmare. Were you safe? I mean, it’s been a while for you. Things have changed, you know.”
She went to the coffee machine and busied herself grinding fresh beans while she chose her words. Once the water was dripping, she turned to face him.
“Ted. Edward. This isn’t exactly a conversation I expected to have with my seventeen-year-old son, but here we are. Would you like to know how many men I’ve slept with in my life?”
“Almost eighteen and no, I beg you, no.”
“Two,” she went on, ignoring him. “Your father. And Lucas Landry. I had a few boyfriends in high school, but nothing serious. I met your father in grade eleven.”
She’d been pregnant at graduation, though that had turned out to be the start of fertility issues, rather than a family. They’d have gotten married anyway, stubborn, stupid kids that they were. Her rose-colored glasses showed her a future with Jeremy that would be far better than anything she could see without him.
She wouldn’t burden Ted with the details of those early years. He had happy memories and she wanted him to keep those. Jeremy had been a good man and a good father. Just at times not a very good husband.
“It’s going on three years since your father died, Ted. If I decide I want to date someone now, then that’s exactly what I’m going to do. What do you expect? I’m in my forties, not my nineties. You will, believe it or not, leave here eventually, to live your own life. Well, I want my own life, too. If that makes you uncomfortable, I’m sorry. But that’s a you problem, not a me problem.”
She’d always been managed, first by her parents, then by her husband. And when that had begun to chafe, when she’d started college instead of trying yet again to get pregnant, neither parents nor husband were happy. Order was restored when Ted came along and she set her ambitions aside—willingly, gratefully—to embrace their miracle. But the intensity of motherhood, combined with the ultimate goal of redundancy, made her realize that one hundred percent focus on her miracle could leave her resentful. Jeremy’s career hadn’t been stalled by fatherhood, after all. If anything, being a family man (who worked sixty-hour weeks and traveled frequently) only helped his status, enabling him to rise to upper management in his telecommunications company. They finally had money; why did Bayleigh need to upset the apple cart? Who would pick Ted up from school if she was in class? Who would take the dog to the vet? Clean the house? Cook the meals?
Would they have navigated these conflicts? Would their marriage have evolved and become stronger? Or would it have ended? She’d never know.
When Jeremy died so suddenly, instead of being the helpless widow she might have been, she had tools in place to take care of herself and Ted.
Except in the blinding aftermath of grief and rage and terror, when she feared she might lose her son, too, she’d lost something of herself again. Ted had to come first. He needed a roaring mama bear and that’s what she’d been, wholeheartedly, without question. He was her life, her world.
Ah, the never-ending push-pull of motherhood.
“Why now?” Ted said. “And why... sleep with him right away? I mean, God, Mom, what if you get pregnant? Are you even on birth control?”
He shuddered again, violently.
Kids.
“I’m not going to get pregnant.”
The reality no longer came with the sharp pang it once did, just a soft sadness for what might have been.
“Can’t you just, I don’t know, date?” Ted paced to the refrigerator, opened it, closed it, then flopped onto a kitchen stool. “Isn’t that what your generation does? Dinner and a movie?”
“I’m closer to your age than I am to my parents’ age. And listen. If you don’t like what I do in the privacy of my own home, maybe it’s time you moved into one of the cabins.”
Ted sprang to his feet, his gawky legs banging against the kitchen island, his big hands over his ears. Then he grimaced and slumped his shoulders. “You’re right, Mom. Sorry. But I can’t think about this, okay? I’ll be out with the horses, pretending this conversation never happened.”
She grabbed him as he slithered past her and planted a kiss on his temple, and he allowed it.
Then she poured herself a cup of coffee and got out her phone to reply to Lucas’s text.
Just had every parent’s nightmare conversation. Somehow I always thought it would be me scolding him for having sex, not the other way around.
She added a laughing-face emoji, then wished him a good day, and sat down with her coffee.
Did she regret sleeping with Lucas? Absolutely not, even considering the conversation with Ted. She’d taken the opportunity to do something that she wanted, for no other reason than that she wanted it. Lucas made her feel... beautiful. Wanted. Desirable.
Young.
He was younger than her, by a decade. More, actually. To some people, that mattered. But should it? She had no expectations, nor did he. They’d been clear on that. This was two people taking comfort in each other’s arms, nothing more, nothing bigger than that.
Her phone buzzed again and her pulse leaped. Another text from Lucas.
I’m having breakfast with Leila. See you tonight?
She hesitated. She had interviews with potential hires today, as well as a school group who were going to spend time with the horses. She definitely wanted to sleep with him again. They weren’t dating, per se . The behavioral parameters weren’t clear to her but she felt she should offer something other than sex.
Would you like to have dinner here with me?
His answer was immediate.
Yes. But won’t you get in trouble with Ted?
She laughed out loud and started thumb-typing her response.
Ted’s got a class in town tonight. We’re safe.
Her son was redoing the chemistry class he was taking when he was injured. He didn’t know what he wanted to do, career-wise, but she’d convinced him that keeping his options open was the best choice.
It was certainly convenient for Bayleigh.
Can I bring something?
She wouldn’t make a big deal out of this. There were a couple of rib eyes in the freezer, potatoes in the pantry and fresh salad greens in the garden.
A bottle of wine would be nice.
Done.
She smiled and tucked her phone into her back pocket. She wasn’t going to prolong the conversation any further, lest it devolve into the adolescent you hang up first, no you hang up first of young lovers.
This was a fling, an affair, a dalliance.
They were not young lovers.
She shook her head and went to her office. She did have a full day ahead of her and there was no time to waste on daydreams.
*
Lucas stopped at the Yellowstone Hotel before his meeting with Leila. According to Sawyer, a couple of her paintings were on display there and he wanted to take a look at them. He wasn’t much of an art buff, but when he saw the framed images, he couldn’t help but be impressed. They could have been simple landscapes depicting a serene lake sheltered by towering mountains; instead, she’d captured something about the light on the water that made him want to keep looking.
He met Leila at a coffee shop on the boardwalk, across the street from the park where he’d first met her and Brade.
Leila stood up from the table when he entered and started toward him, her arms outstretched.
Then, she caught herself. “Sorry. I’m a hugger.”
He pulled her into a one-armed side hug. “How about we meet halfway?”
Her smile warmed him more than he’d expected. Maybe he’d like having a little sister. Or was she his big sister? The three of them couldn’t be more than a few minutes apart but which way, he wasn’t sure.
“No Brade today?” He tucked his crutch under the table before sitting down across from her.
“He’s at the hospital.” Leila pushed a cup of coffee toward him. “I ordered us some breakfast. Pancakes, bacon, and eggs. Okay with you?”
“Of course.”
She seemed on edge, despite the attempt at sunny chatter. Whatever she wanted to talk to him about, he had a feeling it wasn’t going to be something simple, so he decided to start easy.
“I saw your paintings.”
“Oh!” Her cheeks turned pink. She blinked and looked down at her plate. “And?”
“I like them.”
She nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”
Not as easy as he’d hoped, then. “I mean, I really liked them.” He sought for the right words, pretty sure he wasn’t going to find them. “They felt... restful. On my eyes. But interesting too. Like you could spend a lot of time looking at them and keep enjoying it.”
Her gaze softened. “Lucas. What a lovely thing to say. Thank you.”
He hadn’t realized how important it was to him not to mess this up until just now. Maybe he wasn’t as immune to the whole meet-your-genetic-siblings thing as he thought. He’d been expecting at best a lukewarm reception. Leila’s enthusiasm opened up something new and raw inside him.
Not to mention that coming to Grand to meet Leila and Brade had resulted in him meeting Bayleigh.
Leila looked across at him, her head tipped slightly to the side. “How are you doing with all this, Lucas?”
He jumped. “Fine.”
She lifted her eyebrows.
“Okay, yes, it’s a big deal.”
He wasn’t about to tell Leila that the night he’d spent in Bayleigh Sutherland’s bed had thrown him off-balance way worse than discovering his siblings. Whatever happened between them this week was private, a welcome distraction that would, and was already, helping him cope with the stress bombarding him.
“What do your parents think about it?” Leila asked.
Lucas hadn’t talked to his mother since the day he’d arrived, he realized with sudden guilt. She’d be wondering what was going on. He’d call her the moment he got back into the truck.
“My mom’s the one who made me come out here,” he told Leila, sidestepping the question. “We’re close. My dad is fine with it too, but he lets her do the talking for both of them.”
“You’re lucky,” Leila said, wistfully. “My mom died when I was twelve. It’s been just me and my dad since then.”
“Sorry to hear it.”
Their food arrived then and they spent a few minutes sorting their plates and tasting the first bites.
“My dad’s looking forward to meeting you,” Leila said. “Do your parents want to meet us?”
“Meet you?” Lucas chuckled. “My mom wants to adopt you and Brade, both.”
“Brade might go along with that.” Leila laughed. “My dad would not.”
He should have been prepared, given his own mother’s reaction, but this was yet another connection he hadn’t banked on. Another parent he hadn’t expected. Not his parent, exactly... but what did you call the man who raised your triplet sister?
“No doubt. Brade’s parents are gone, then?”
She nodded. “That’s what sparked all this in the first place. I always knew I was adopted but I’d never felt any urge to seek out my birth parents. Brade only found out he was adopted when his father was dying. It was a pretty big shock and he went through a lot of anger about it, I think. His father gave him only the tiniest clues before he passed, so Brade had to do a lot of digging, but eventually, he made it to Grand. He thought Weldon Scott was the deadbeat dad who’d abandoned his birth mother. Turns out he was close.”
Leila poured syrup over her pancakes, making it swirl in a graceful pattern before lifting the spout up with a flourish.
“Have you always been an artist?” he asked.
She looked up in surprise. “Me? I suppose it’s always been my hobby.”
“What I saw is far more than a hobby, Leila. You’ve got real skill and talent.”
She blushed again and fiddled with her fork.
“You don’t like to talk about your work?”
She bit her lip. “I love painting. It’s helped me through some really bad times but it’s taken some effort for me to recognize that it’s a legitimate career. Pretty common among artists of all kinds. Painters, sculptors, writers, poets, most of us have day jobs doing something else that supports us in our artistic endeavors. To be able to earn an income from art is amazing. I’m doing that now, but some days I still have to pinch myself.”
That’s how Lucas felt about his own work. Supporting yourself by doing something you loved wasn’t a luxury that everyone got. He knew how lucky he was.
Or how lucky he’d been, at least.
“And that brings us to the reason I called,” Leila continued. She nibbled on a piece of bacon while she chose her words. “There are two, but first, you asked about our birth mother earlier. It’s not a simple answer. Diana’s mother—our mother too, according to DNA—was Heather Hudson, Heather Scott after her marriage, but neither Google nor social media show any meaningful results for any combinations of those, so I figured she’s changed her identity.”
“All I’ve ever known is that she’s a Caucasian woman from the Midwest,” Lucas said.
Leila nodded. “Me too. I recently finished my art history degree, and it was in determining the provenance of an old painting I found in Diana’s childhood home that I think I figured it out. I connected the painting to an artist whose work I’m familiar with, a man named Mel Brezo, notorious for being a recluse. He communicates strictly through his agent, has no photos out there and makes no public appearances.” She paused. “I think this man is actually Heather Hudson, that she’s created this identity to remain hidden.”
“Have you contacted this agent?”
She made a face. “Yes. I didn’t want to tip my hand, for fear of scaring her off, so I pretended to be a fan. I mean, I actually am a fan, so that part’s true. But all I received was a generic thank-you note from the agency, and a polite reminder to respect the artist’s privacy.”
One of the reasons he’d been reluctant to begin this process in the first place. No one liked rejection. Why go looking for it?
“I guess that’s that, then.”
“Hm.” Leila twirled a piece of pancake in the lake of syrup. “Have you decided whether or not you want to keep in touch with us after this week?”
Her hand was shaking slightly. She kept her eyes on her plate. He thought about how excited she’d been to meet him initially.
“Is that what I said?” He squirmed.
She waved a hand. “Close enough. Thing is, if you’re going to be out of our lives again, there’s no point in involving you any further. I want to find my birth parents. So does Brade. If you don’t, that’s fine. But maybe it’s just as well if we agree to keep our distance.”
The sting was unexpected.
“I mean . . .” he began.
“Which brings me,” she interrupted, “to the next thing I wanted to talk to you about. Diana.”
The half sister, the next kid their birth mother had abandoned.
“What about her?”
“You sure you want to meet her?”
“Why?” He blinked. “Does she not want to meet me?”
“She can’t wait. But this hasn’t been easy on her. I don’t want her to get hurt.”
“Why would meeting me hurt Diana?”
Leila pursed her lips. “I’ve known Diana for years, so us discovering we were sisters was fantastic. But when Brade first came to town, he was gunning for her father, Weldon Scott. He thought Weldon was his father, too. Weldon had a heart attack over trying to keep everything a secret. Diana was pregnant at the time and nearly lost her baby. She wasn’t very happy with Brade, but they’ve sorted it all out. Now he’s Uncle Brade to her kids and they adore him. Kendall, his fiancée, is one of Diana’s best friends. Mine, too. So, it’s all worked out well.”
Lucas was quiet for a moment. “And a third half-sibling is too much?”
“Not for her.” Leila shrugged. “If you came here delighted to meet us all, it would be one thing. But you’ve been ambivalent, Lucas. Guarded. You’re not sure about us. Why should we bring that energy into the mix?”
“Fine.” He looked around the small restaurant, as if expecting to see this unmet sister materialize out of the kitchen. He found himself wanting to meet her, suddenly. He thought of Bayleigh Sutherland’s words. Take joy where you can.
Diana Scott O’Sullivan wanted to meet him. All three of these strangers were excited to have him, him , in their lives. It was humbling.
“What if I change my energy?”
Leila sat back, then slowly, a grin bloomed on her face. “How’s this afternoon, brother?”