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Raising the Soldier's Son(13)

By:Clare Connelly


“Honey, this is the friend I was telling you about.”

Beside her, Kirk was deathly still, but she didn’t realize. She was focused on trying to coax Wade to speak. Of course, like any child who wanted to aggravate a parent, he did the exact opposite of what she’d requested.

“Can you say hi, darling?”

More silence.

Kirk looked at the small child, and all of his anxiety and desire evaporated. Rage, white hot and fierce, burned into him. For this child Annabeth was trying to pass off as his was no older than two. Kirk’s face was pale beneath his tan, as he realized that not only was he not a father, but the woman he thought he had once loved was capable of such deceitful treachery. And for what? Money? He looked around the cheery but decrepit room, and his frown deepened.

His eyes dropped back to the toddler, who was staring dejectedly out of the window.

No way could this be his son.

Without a word, he spun on his heel and strode from the house, towards his car. If Annabeth had wanted to pay him back, then she’d chosen a pretty damned near perfect way. His disappointment and sense of loss were enormous.

“Where’s he going?” Wade asked, as the front door slammed. “I wanted to show him my trains.”

Annabeth looked at her son in complete confusion. “Stay here, honey. I’ll be right back.” She ran from the house. By the time she had burst through the front door, Kirk was already behind his steering wheel again.





“Hey!” She had to run to catch him, just as he started the engine. “Where the heck are you tearing off to?”

His face could have frozen a fire. “I’m leaving, Annabeth.”

“But… I don’t understand?”

His eyes raked over her face, trying to make sense of what she’d become. “How dare you?” He muttered, his eyes like ice chips.

“I don’t… what happened?” Her fingers were shaking so she linked them together behind her back.

“Why did you do it?”

“Do what? Kirk, what’s going on?”

“How dare you try to pass that child off as mine? Did you think I wouldn’t notice that he’s barely out of diapers? My God, Annabeth. Was this about revenge? Did you want to hurt me like I hurt you?”

She shook her head, emotion making it difficult to think and speak. “No, you’ve got it wrong.”

“I thought I knew you. I thought I knew you better than anyone else in the world.” A muscle flexed in his jaw.

“You do.” Barely a whisper.

“I haven’t seen you in five years. That boy is … he’s almost a baby. Did you truly think I wouldn’t realize? He’s not even speaking, Annabeth.”

Something like a knife had lodged in between Annabeth’s ribs. She shook her head, feeling dizzy and faint at the same time. She opened her mouth to explain. She should have told him at the bar, but instead, she’d told him how Wade likes his PB & J on rye bread, oddly, because with everything else, it had to be white and soft. Kirk swore and revved the engine.

“Get out of my way, Annabeth. So help me God, you don’t want to argue with me right now.”

“Kirk,” she snapped angrily, but she took a step back from the car on instinct. And he floored the accelerator, driving off in a cloud of dust. She watched him go, her heart shredding into pieces, sweat beetling her brow. He had left. Again.

Another lesson Annabeth had learned, in her tenure as a single parent, was how to control her emotions for the sake of her child. And so she took a deep, steadying breath, pushed her desperation deep down into her body for later attention, and went back inside.

“Kirk had to go, sweetie. But the good news?” She asked brightly, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. “You get both drumsticks.”

CHAPTER SIX

The gold gilt box drew her gaze every few minutes. It had been two days with no sign of Kirk. No word of the apology she knew he owed her. No opportunity to explain about Wade’s stunted growth and his stubborn temperament that had rendered him willfully speechless in front of their guest.

“You’re not even listening,” Dan pointed out with a melodramatic huff.

“Sorry,” she winced. “I was miles away.”

He leaned forward, his eyes scanning her face. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” She forced a smile to her face. “Fine.”

“I diagnose a lie,” he teased, offering her his bowl of fries.

She shook her head, and moved down the bar to serve a group of construction workers who were finishing up repairs on the local railway tracks. “This round’s on the house, guys. Couldn’t make ends meet in this town without the tracks.”

The gesture earned her a whooping round of celebration that made her laugh.

“So what is it?” Dan wasn’t going to be put off.

Annabeth flicked her eyes to the box again. She was going to take it to Kirk as soon as she could get out of The Whistlestop. It was a Friday night, though, and she knew it would be late. But that didn’t matter. She’d waited a very long time to show him what a jackass he was. The moment was finally upon her. Well, almost.

“Let me guess,” Dan continued. “Your problem is about six and a half feet tall, body of a commando, looks like he should be on a billboard in Hollywood rather than down here in the cotton fields?”

She kept her face as blank as possible. “He’s a problem all right,” she muttered, trying to sound light hearted.

“It would appear the rest of Clearview disagrees with you.”

“Oh?”

“Hmm. I thought everyone was cold on him, the first night he swaggered back in town. Now, he’s the poster child for the long lost golden boy. Everyone who walked in my door today was talking about the return of Kirk Robinson.” He watched her carefully for anything her reactions might betray about her feelings. “Must have been quite the hometown hero, huh?”

“You could say that.” She gave in to temptation and snaffled a single chip from his bowl. “You know the kind of guy. High school quarterback. Handsome. More money than he knew what to do with. Popular as they come. Smart, too. And his parents raised him right, made him a gentleman.” For the most part, she tacked on silently, thinking she’d been the one person in town who hadn’t seen the benefits of his courtesy and old-fashioned manners.

“But you don’t like him.” A statement. Her emotional state was obvious.

She searched for the right words. “We have… history. I’ll be glad when he leaves town.”

“You haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?” She leaned forward, her heart hammering against her breast.

“Robinson construction has just announced plans to rebuild the old pier. Just as it was. Without the tendency to wash out to sea, though.”

Heart fluttering so fast she thought she might faint, Annabeth narrowed her gaze. “And? What does that mean?”

“Word on the street, or my patient’s seat, at least, is that Kirk Robinson is planning to stick around to see it gets done right.”

It took her utmost concentration not to react. That soaring feeling in her soul was the most ridiculous, shaming emotional response to the news she’d just heard. No way would this decision have anything to do with her. Likely, the plans had been in the pipeline for years. His decision to oversee it could have been made months ago. Or it could have been his return home, and the feelings it had stirred for the town he’d once loved. If he cared about her at all anymore, he would have tried to set things right. He would have given her a chance to explain about Wade.

It didn’t take long for the bar to fill up. The group of construction workers were the loudest of the lot, singing happily along to any hit that came on the juke box. Annabeth didn’t mind. Their voices weren’t the worst she’d heard, and at least they helped to drown out her own thoughts. She had a full team behind the bar, which left her time to chat to the locals just as she liked to. Just as Horace always did. Her dad would be back soon, and then life could return to its normal pace. She thought guiltily of the manuscript she should have sent back the week earlier. Her publishers were being good about waiting, but Annabeth didn’t want to stuff this up. She’d waited years for a big break and now she’d got it. It was the kind of thing that should have absorbed her concentration completely. Not Kirk Robinson.

She looked up distractedly, a smile on her face as she listened to the swirl of conversation. It jarred the second her eyes landed on the man himself. As if her thoughts had conjured him up, he entered the bar, looking as devastatingly attractive as ever, in a simple black t-shirt and jeans. Her body seemed to reverberate on a different frequency. Her blood was rushing through her veins so fast that she could hear it in her ears, even over the din of Small Town Saturday Night.

“Excuse me,” with monumental effort, she kept her voice level, her expression normal. “I’m going to be right back, okay?”

Meghan, one of the staff they’d hired to see them through summer smiled cheerily. “No worries, boss.”

Annabeth walked quickly through the bar, too quickly for Kirk to keep up. Doctor Dan had been right. Whatever ill will people might have felt towards Kirk for breaking Annabeth’s heart, it appeared to now be forgiven. Kirk could barely move for the people wanting to stop and chat to him. He watched, frustration keen in his gut, as Annabeth’s blonde head bobbed away from him, and disappeared from view.