The Secret Father. Anna Adams

She plucked a sweet onion from the wire basket that hung above her counter. If he had to belly up to telling her, it couldn’t be that good.

      While the screen door banged open and then shut each time Zach carried a load of wood from the pile out back, Beth peeled the onion.

      Spike slinked in to investigate the racket. He hunkered down at her feet while she diced onion the way Zach liked, in small chunks. With the cat twining around her ankles, she cut a hunk of corn bread and set it on a bread plate at the table. She was stirring the steaming chili as Zach got his fill of loading the bin.

      He came back in, sniffing the chili’s aroma. Again, like Spike. “I didn’t even know I was hungry.” He slapped on the faucet to wash his hands at the sink. “Aren’t you eating?”

      “I ate with Gran, but I might have a bite of corn bread.”

      “I hate to eat alone.”

      He never admitted that to anyone else, but she knew. It pricked at her during the long two-week periods when Lily stayed at Helene’s. Zach’s discomfort with being alone had started after the accident, too.

      He needed a family. Helene hadn’t been a good wife for him, but someday a woman would arrive sporting sense enough to value a guy who always did the right thing—even when it came to letting his wife go. Beth often wondered how much of Zach’s pain came from a suspicion that, as Helene alleged, he hadn’t been good enough for her.

      “Mom, do you remember I was in Chicago before I took that last flight?”

      It was an odd beginning, but she went with him. “How could I forget?” She could have bitten her tongue off.

      With a look of forebearance, Zach went to the counter where she’d set out a bowl. He ladled chili from the saucepan and sprinkled onions over the top.

      “I knew someone in Chicago—a woman named Olivia Kendall.”

      “Olivia Kendall? I’ve heard that name.”

      He lifted his head so sharply chili spilled over the edge of the ladle to splatter the stove. “How? Did she write me here?”

      “Huh?” Beth circled the counter to the family room and plucked a magazine from the stack beside her favorite chair. “No one wrote to you here. I always wondered why. I thought you surely had friends.” She showed him last month’s issue of Relevance. “I know her from this. How did you meet a woman like her?” All he needed was another Helene type.

      “I’m not sure.” He shook his head and then lifted his spoon for a bite. Normally, chili was the next best thing to nectar for Zach. He savored it like those folks on the food channel swilled choice wine. This bite, he swallowed almost without chewing, but then cringed and ran for the sink where he splashed water into his burned mouth.

      “I’m sorry, son.” She got him a beer, twisted the top and put the bottle on the counter. “Now, tell me about Olivia Kendall. What does she want from you?”

      His still-wary gaze reminded her of the little boy who’d once thought she knew everything. After all these years, some of that child’s vulnerability remained in Zach’s eyes. He’d hate it if he knew.

      “I knew her well. I—” He broke off, his face tight. She couldn’t tell if the chili burn hurt him or if he was struggling with the words. “Apparently, I cared for her.” He looked almost ashamed. “We have a son. Olivia and I.”

      While she stared, mouth literally agape, he took the bottle top from her hand and tossed it into the garbage beneath the sink. Then he maneuvered her into the nearest chair. He might be giving her time to take it in. More likely, he was embarrassed. He’d had Lily too quickly with Helene, too.

      “How does a man forget a child?”

      “Or the boy’s mother,” Zach said. “She was young. I know what kind of resources her family has, but I hate to think of what she went through, being a single mother because I disappeared.” He patted his pockets as if he were looking for something. “Olivia brought a picture, but I left it at home.” He pointed to the mantel in her living room. “He looks just like those.”

      She turned her head slowly. She’d all but papered her house in photos of Ned and Zach. She hadn’t wanted her boy to forget his father. “He looks like you? Or your daddy?”

      “So much like me you wouldn’t be able to tell our pictures apart.” He pointed toward the end of the table, at his kindergarten graduation photo above a dried-flower arrangement. “He’s that old.”

      She stared at the picture, taking time to let Zach’s news sink in. Ned, as tall as Zach was now, but already more gray about the head than blond, had hoisted their son in miniature cap and gown to his shoulder. As proud as if their Zach had finished Harvard magna cum laude. Good thing, because he’d been gone twelve years by the time Zach finished college on the government’s dime.

      She shook her head. “How’d you even meet someone like her? That family hardly keeps our kind of company.”

      “After she told me about Evan I didn’t think to ask for details.” His haggard expression was painful to see, but he turned away, rejecting her concern for a swig of his beer. “I left on my last mission before she could tell me she was pregnant, and then she saw my picture in the news. Her father tried to get more information out of the Navy, but Kendall was the last person they wanted to see, and they didn’t know about Olivia—any more than she knew what I was really doing. She never heard I survived until she saw a report on the bank robbery.”

      “My God.”

      He took his chair again, his moving body pushing the heavy oak table away. “Yeah.”

      “Is she looking for support?” A mother’s protectiveness sharpened her voice. For once, Zach didn’t seem to notice.

      “Olivia Kendall,” he repeated, as if her name said it all.

      It did.

      “Still, I owe my son support.”

      True. “What else does she want?”

      “A father for Evan.” He stood again, his meal forgotten as he strode the creaking wooden floor. “That’s what she says.”

      After Helene, it was a hard concept to follow. “Do you believe her?”

      “I think so.” He lifted a troubled gaze. “I have to because I want to see him. I don’t know if Evan needs me, but I’m shocked that I’ve had a son for five years. He’s at an age where it must be obvious he’s different from other boys and girls.”

      “Nonsense. We don’t live in that world anymore. People divorce now. Unwed mothers keep their children. He won’t have…”

      “You see his life through an adult’s eyes. I’m trying to look through his.” He turned. “And I need to know if you can be his grandmother—if you can love him as much as you love Lily.”

      “You have to ask?” He’d lost his ability to trust, along with those memories that had disappeared in his injuries. She worshiped her granddaughter. “I value every second with Lily, just as you do, and I’ll love your boy as much. Let’s ask Olivia and—” She broke off. “You said his name is Evan?” He nodded. “Let’s invite them to your gran and grandpa’s anniversary celebration.”

      Seth and Greta Calvert had loved her like a daughter. They’d made her part of their family the day Ned had brought her to these mountains, and since then they’d all claimed countless other “marry-ins.” They’d claim Olivia and Evan, too, and make them welcome.

      “I just hope we don’t overwhelm him.” Beth assumed Zach agreed with her plan, without giving him time to differ. “Does his mother have family I might not have read about?”

      “Only her father.” Distraction distanced Zach’s voice. “She named Evan for me, Mom. His middle name is Zachary.”