204 Rosewood Lane - Debbie Macomber [122]
Maryellen understood that, since she, too, lived with regret and pain. She, too, struggled with the past. All this time, she’d believed she had nothing in common with her father and without knowing it, they’d been more alike than she could possibly have guessed.
A tear fell onto her cheek, and then another, catching her unawares. Maryellen wasn’t emotional; she refused to be. Couldn’t afford to be. She’d locked away her emotions when she walked away from her marriage. Emotions were too costly.
The sound of someone approaching made her straighten and wipe the tears from her face. Somehow, she wasn’t surprised to see that the intruder was Jon.
“I read about your father. I’m sorry.” He stood some distance from her, down by the gazebo, and looked out over the water. The sky was an azure cloudless blue, and the wind was still.
“Thank you.” The foot ferry that traveled between Bremerton and Cedar Cove lumbered toward the pier. Maryellen concentrated on that instead of Jon. He didn’t leave and she wanted to be alone. If she didn’t pick up the conversation, maybe he’d get the hint and go away.
“I’m sorry to talk to you about this now—”
“Then don’t,” she pleaded.
“You’ve taken that choice away from me.” To his credit, he did sound apologetic. “If you’d told me about the baby we could’ve—”
“We could’ve what?” she shouted. “Gotten rid of it?”
Her anger appeared to shock him. He stiffened and then dashed up the aisle so that he stood directly in front of her. “No, Maryellen, we could’ve talked this out like civilized human beings. Instead, you deceived me. You let me think everything was perfectly fine and it wasn’t.”
She lowered her head and stared at her feet. “You’re wrong. Everything is fine. I’m going to have my baby.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. This isn’t your baby, it’s our baby.”
“No.” A chill ran down her spine, a niggling fear.
“A father has rights, too.”
Maryellen went cold inside. “How much is this going to cost me?”
“What?” He frowned, obviously confused.
“How much money will it take for you to leave me and my—me and the baby alone?” she demanded.
He stared at her for a long, heart-stopping moment. “You want to pay me to stay out of my child’s life? Is that what you’re suggesting?”
She nodded.
“No way!” He sounded angry and disgusted. Then he completely bewildered her by asking, “Who told you?”
“Told me what?” There seemed to be something she could use against him.
“If you don’t know, then I’ll be damned before I hand you another weapon.”
Her mind raced with what she knew about him, which was little. He worked as a chef, was a talented photographer and had inherited an incredible piece of land from his grandfather. That was the sum total of everything she’d learned about him—with one small sidebar. He was a fabulous lover. This last thought made her stomach tense.
“When did you take the photo of me?”
He didn’t answer, but stood his ground.
“I saw it in Seattle. That is me, Jon. Did you think I wouldn’t recognize myself?” She wasn’t the only one who’d been deceptive.
When she glanced up, she saw that he looked chagrined, as though embarrassed that she’d seen something he’d never intended her to know about. Well, she did know and she didn’t like it.
“I didn’t think you’d ever see that,” he admitted, his hands in his pockets.
“Of course you didn’t. Did you follow me around, Jon? When did you take that photograph?”
He lowered himself onto the bench several feet away from her. He kept his eyes focused on the waterfront and the jagged peaks of Olympic Mountains in the background. “We’re both adults. We should be able to come to an agreement regarding the baby.”
“If you don’t want money, what do you want?”
“My son,” he told her. “Or my daughter.”
“Why? Why does my baby matter to you? Is it some sort of male pride? Or vengeance? Or what?”
He shook his head.