Another Woman's Son. Anna Adams

love him more than anyone.” Isabel rubbed her pale cheek against one shoulder. “I’d been with him almost every day of his life until I found out the truth. He was like my own and Faith seemed to welcome my help. But after, I had to speak to her or you if I wanted to talk to him.”

      “You could have hung up if she answered the phone.”

      “I was mad at her, but I thought the second I heard your voice I might tell the truth.”

      Relief hit him so hard it hurt. “I wish you had called. At least I’d have known in time to confront them. It was all over by the time I found out.” With a shaking hand, he turned the key in the ignition.

      “Because they’re dead, Ben.”

      “I might have killed them.”

      “No.”

      He was glad she sounded so sure. It made him think he might stop being the man who hated everyone.

      “How long are you going to hate me?”

      “Hate you? You’re all I have left.” As insane as he felt, he had to keep her on his side. He craved a large meal of revenge, but he wanted his son more. He shoved the gearshift into Drive and eased away from the slushy curb.

      Until two years ago, they’d lived in the same neighborhood. Out of the blue one day, Faith had insisted they move to a different subdivision, close enough to reach his office in less than an hour. He’d thought she’d liked its slight edge in upscale chic. Now, he realized she’d needed a little distance from her lover. Living so close to Will must have strained her acting abilities.

      Half an hour later, Ben turned into the brick-lined entrance of his neighborhood. Isabel’s car skidded as the tires lost traction in the snow.

      He glanced at her, but her cynical smile, focused outside the vehicle, opened his eyes to the place where he lived.

      Neat houses in neat rows, governed by rules and expectations that kept garbage cans and neighbors in their proper places. It looked pretty as long as no one peered inside.

      He parked in front of the garage, and they both got out. Isabel’s smile had faded. She clung to the door, obviously in the grip of second thoughts.

      A plan came to Ben, fully formed out of distrust. “Come see Tony. He’s still the baby you love.” The nearer he kept Isabel, the better he’d know what she was thinking. “The reception was difficult. This is going to be impossible.”

      He opened the side door and waited. She stared at him and finally slogged through the snow, her head down, her breath coming so fast he could see her coat moving up and down with each respiration.

      Faith’s spotless chrome-and-granite kitchen stood empty. Isabel peered, anxious as a hunted animal. He’d always hated the cold kitchen. One small frame in Faith’s picture of a perfect home.

      He dropped his keys on the counter. “Wait here. I’ll let the sitter know I’ll take her home in a few minutes.”

      “Okay.” But she glanced back at the door. She’d already proved her skills as a runaway.

      He took a chance and left her there. He hoped she loved his son too much to leave. The sixteen-year-old girl from three streets over jumped off Faith’s white leather sofa as he entered the family room.

      “Mr. Jordan.” She tended to watch adults like a spooked colt.

      “We’re back, Patty.” He rarely understood adolescent girls, but he dealt with Patty by pretending it was normal for people to treat him like a burglar in the middle of a big job. “I brought Mrs. Barker to see Tony. Can you give us a few minutes and then I’ll drive you home?”

      “He’s asleep.” She scooped up her coat and book bag. “I can walk.”

      “Your parents would kill me.” He looked out the wide bay windows. “The snow’s getting heavier. I’ll be glad to take you.”

      He headed back to the kitchen, more sure his jumpy sitter would remain than he was that he’d find Isabel where he’d left her. Miraculously, she’d waited.

      His blood seemed to flow at light speed—a tremble in his fingers, a roar in his ears. Adrenaline. If he didn’t hit something soon, his head might explode.

      “Tony’s napping.” He tried to sound natural, but he felt as if he were outside his body looking down. “He won’t wake up if we’re quiet.” He led Isabel to the stairs she’d climbed many times before.

      At the top, his son’s door stood partially open. Patty had stacked the baby’s toys on a plain chest at the end of the too-ornate crib. Lamps that wouldn’t survive a boy’s first in-the-house football game lit the room with soft warmth.

      Tony lay on his back, his arms and legs spread as if he were flying. Heat finally crept back into Ben’s body as he watched Tony sleep. He hadn’t lost everything in that accident. His son had survived. His son.

      Isabel leaned on the crib’s raised rail. She’d been in this house, bent over this crib, taken care of Tony almost as much as Faith.

      She reached for the baby’s hand but jerked her own back just before she touched him. Ben forgot for a moment that she’d let him believe in his fake life for three extra months. He started to remind her again she wouldn’t wake Tony, but the harsh need on her face cut him short.

      Tears floated in her eyes. Tony meant everything to her. Ben covered her hand and touching her felt right again.

      “I know how you feel,” he said. But you can’t have him.

      “I shouldn’t have come. I thought I’d gotten used to not seeing him, but I was wrong.” She splayed her free hand over her breasts. “He kills me, your boy.”

      Could he trust her? Until he was sure, he couldn’t let her leave. He imagined himself in her place, watching her mother fall apart, her father walk around like a monolith without emotion. Isabel knew exactly what Amelia and George needed to get all better. And that was Tony.

      He slid Isabel’s hand off the crib and pulled her to the door. Without pausing, he took her to his room. Isabel caught the doorjamb, reluctant to enter Faith’s domain of chintz and fussy swags.

      “What are you doing?” she asked.

      “Asking you to stay here.”

      “What?” She clenched her hands in the narrow skirt of her dress. “Just because Faith and Will slept together, you and I should try it? I don’t need that kind of revenge.”

      At first, he didn’t understand. “Are you nuts? I only brought you in here because I didn’t want the babysitter to overhear.” They’d been friends for most of their adult lives, and he was about to trick her into easing his paranoid fears. He couldn’t help it.

      For Tony. He’d risk everything, destroy anyone.

      “Stay with us,” he said. “Until you decide what you want to do next. The four of us were his family. As you said, he’s lost Will and Faith. George and Amelia didn’t get down here often enough for him to love them the way he does you.”

      She didn’t even blink. It was as if she was saturated, had no more room to take in another shock. “You said you hated me.”

      “I was angry.” Part of him did hate her. But would he have given up those three extra months for something as brutal as the truth? “Where else do you have to be?”

      “In Middleburg. I have a job.”

      “What about your house?”

      She blushed. Was she lying again? “I asked for time off to get the house ready to sell.”

      “Then stay here. You don’t want the memories over there.”

      “No,” she said in a cutting voice he didn’t recognize. “I’d rather imagine Will and my sister here, in your bed.”