Snowfall on Haven Point(51)
He took another bite and washed it down with his water. “This was a good idea. Lunch with a view, I mean.”
“I’m glad. Anytime you need to go for a drive, let me know. Even fifteen or twenty minutes can give your spirits a lift.”
“That’s kind of you to offer, but I’m sure you’ve got enough to do, with Christmas just around the corner.”
The sunshine beamed in through the windshield and she fought the urge to stretch out in it like their shy new cat. “Not really. I will still have to wrap the few things I bought today, but other than that, everything’s basically done. It had better be, since I started in September.”
“You really get into this whole holiday thing, don’t you? The presents, the decorating, the baking. All of it.”
She shrugged, a little embarrassed “I just want my children to enjoy the magic, especially this year in a new house and new town. The last few haven’t been the greatest, so I vowed this year I would give them the joy-filled, meaningful Christmas I always wanted, no matter what.”
He looked out at the water. “I guess that’s what makes good parents,” he said after a moment. “You have to be willing to sacrifice whatever it takes to do what’s best for your children.”
She thought she heard a low undertone of sadness in his voice, just a hint, but it was enough for her to take a closer look. In profile, his features were hard, set, his mouth a firm line. She had noticed that reaction before when they talked about children and she wondered at it.
“The challenge is figuring out what that is. What’s best for your children, I mean. And our idea of what’s best for them isn’t always what they want or need.”
His jaw tightened. “How do you figure it out? How do you make those tough calls, especially when what you might want and what they might need aren’t the same thing?”
It seemed an odd question from a single man with no family, but the intensity of it warranted an honest answer.
“The moment I gave birth to Chloe, what I wanted in the moment no longer mattered. It couldn’t be the driving force of my life any longer. She was. She became the most important thing, then Will after her. Every choice I make as a parent, I have to ask myself if this will help them grow up to be kind, compassionate, decent human beings who contribute to society.”
“No pressure, right?”
“Parenting is all about pressure—and most of the time I feel like I’m making things up as I go along.”
He seemed to absorb that and grew pensive again, gazing once more at the water and a small flock of Canada geese skimming past.
Vague impressions she had gathered throughout the last week seemed to coalesce in her mind as she sifted through his words.
She decided to take a wild guess that still somehow seemed right on the mark. “Is your child a boy or a girl?” she asked.
Marshall swiveled to stare at her, his mouth agape and shock flaring in blue eyes that appeared the same shade as that stunning lake.
“What? Why would you ask that?”
He didn’t immediately tell her he had neither, she couldn’t help but notice. “It was just a guess. I’m right, though, aren’t I?”
He turned back to the water, his features stony. She could feel the tension rippling off him just like the water behind that small group of geese and regret pinched at her.
On impulse, she reached out and touched his arm, a gesture of apology and comfort. “You don’t have to answer. I’m sorry. That was intrusive and rude.”
His gaze shifted to her hand on the arm of his blazer. When he looked up, his eyes were murky with turmoil. Indecision? Regret? She couldn’t tell.
“I have a son,” he finally said, his voice hesitant. “He’s thirteen now and has no idea I’m his father.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SHE HELD HER BREATH, struck by not only his words but the pain she clearly sensed behind them.
He had a son. Thirteen years old.
A son who didn’t know Marshall was his father. He was a serious man who took his responsibilities very seriously. He took cold cases home with him to study while on sick leave for a broken leg! She couldn’t imagine that he would have refused to take responsibility for a child.
“How long have you known about your...son? Did his mother not tell you she was pregnant?” It was the only explanation that made sense.
He had the distinct look of a man who regretted opening his mouth. “I wish I could take that easy way out. I knew. She—the mother—contacted me when she was six months along and told me about the baby but claimed she didn’t think it was mine. In the same breath she asked me to sign away all paternal rights, just in case.