His Surprise Son. Allie Pleiter

know you at all?”

      “I accept that I hurt you in this. But making a go of it alone with Dad felt easier than having to beg you for time and attention.” She steeled herself to tell him all of it. “Or fight off your father’s idea of what should be done.”

      She watched the words hit him, felt her spine stiffen as Josh stood up. “What do you mean, ‘my father’s idea of what should be done’?” The words were dark and dangerous.

      She drew in a breath, willing the distance of the years to calm her words. “I don’t know how he found out,” she began.

      He wasn’t interested in preamble. “What did he do, Jean?” The words were sharper and louder this time.

      “He came here a month after Jonah was born. He offered me a great deal of money never to contact you. I think he worried that if you ever found out, we’d be in your life.” She’d never forget that afternoon when Bartholomew Tyler had shown up on her doorstep. The man was horrible. “He saw me—and Jonah—as beneath your potential. A liability best kept out of your life.”

      Josh put his hand to his forehead. “Of course he did. It’s how Dad looked at everything.”

      “It made him furious that I wouldn’t take the money, even though things were really tight then. But really, how could I live with myself if I had? He stomped out, swearing to find another way. A week later a very legal-looking document was delivered to our door, declaring I lacked the resources to properly care for someone like Jonah, and that he would sue for custody and have Jonah placed ‘in a suitable boarding school’ if I ever tried to let Jonah into your life.” She shivered, remembering the disgust in Bartholomew Tyler’s eyes—such a contrast to the loving way her own dad gazed at Jonah. “I think he wanted to make sure his faulty and illegitimate grandson was kept out of your shining future, and if I wouldn’t see to it, he would.” She made no attempt to keep the bitterness from her voice.

      Josh drew both hands into fists and closed his eyes. “My father has been gone eighteen months. He died over a year ago. Why didn’t you contact me then?”

      “I didn’t know he was gone.”

      “You could have known. You would have known, if you’d just told me any of this. Five years, Jean. Five whole years.” Josh walked over and leaned up against the kitchen counter. Her heart ached for him—this was so much to take in all at once. Much of that had been her doing; she was paying the price right now for not telling him in all these five years, instead watching him stagger under the blow of the things she’d just revealed.

      “I’d like to say I’m surprised at my father,” he said with a sigh. “I’m shocked, but not surprised. It sounds exactly like something old Barty would do.”

      The force that was Bartholomew Tyler was part of what had made Josh the driven man he was, but it had such a dark side, too. Josh had grown up believing he was destined for greatness, but for his family, it was a binding obligation, not a vote of confidence.

      “Your father never approved of me, you knew that. This just added fuel to the fire. We were welcome here, whereas we’d have to fight tooth and nail there. I was tired, still healing, and Dad was really starting to fail. It was looking like it would be his last Christmas. I’m not proud of how easy it was to throw up my hands in surrender.”

      When Josh said nothing, she went on, determined to say what she felt ought to be said. “Jonah is not a liability. He’s not faulty, and he’s not an accident. He’s a gift.”

      “A gift you hid from me.”

      “Parenthood doesn’t work as a second priority. Jonah comes first in my world. He has to. Now, I suppose, you’ll need to decide if he’ll be anything more than on the fringes of yours.”

      There was a long, raw moment where they didn’t look at each other. Josh walked back to the table and picked up the frame again.

      “What’s he like?” The single question seemed to pierce through all the pain in the room.

      She felt herself smile. “Curious and smart, like you. Stubborn, like his grandfather. Opinionated, like his mother.” She looked straight at him. “And deaf. Your son is deaf.”

      * * *

       Deaf.

      Josh felt the word push at him, like a typhoon trying to knock him over. He, a man who made his career in an electronic music application that was lauded for how perfectly it worked, had a son who couldn’t hear.

      The whole idea of Jonah’s existence was such foreign territory, Josh could barely get his head around the fact that he had a son. His entire body felt still and cold. His lungs couldn’t pull in enough air; his brain hurt from slamming together facts he had with possibilities he couldn’t grasp. He had not just a son, but one with needs he couldn’t begin to understand.

      His thoughts whirled in a million directions as he tried to sort it all out. He stared at the photograph, somehow wanting the image to give him a foothold into the world he’d just entered.

      It offered no grounding. As a matter of fact, it was a few moments before he realized he hadn’t given Jean any kind of response.

      “He’s deaf.” Not exactly genius dialogue, but he was working in shock mode here—eloquence was far beyond him.

      “Yes. Since birth.”

      “So he can’t hear anything at all?”

      She was watching him, waiting for his reaction. Josh wanted to get it right, to say and do the right thing at this incredibly crucial moment. Still, the idea of a deaf son—disjointed speech, hearing aids, isolated from communication the rest of the world took for granted—was all so overwhelmingly new. Suddenly, being introduced to Jonah presented ten times the test it had been minutes ago.

      How do I meet and get to know someone I can’t even communicate with well? He wasn’t even especially good with kids. The path to Jonah’s silent world gaped like an impassable bridge.

      Her eyes flashed just a bit at his hesitation, and he saw a glimpse of a mother’s fierce protection. “He’s not broken, Josh. He’s perfect the way he is, just different.” Her words and the jut of her chin dared him to try to pronounce otherwise. He didn’t think of the boy as broken—at least he didn’t think so—but he couldn’t sort through the riot of thoughts going on in his head right now.

      “Jonah is profoundly deaf,” she went on. “Perhaps as a result of a high fever I had when I was pregnant—we don’t really know. When he wears his hearing aids, he can sense extremely loud noises, but not speech.” She paused just a moment as if guessing his next question. “Or music.”

      He’d worked that out almost immediately, but the words had a stunning weight when he heard her speak them. My son cannot hear music. As ironies go, this one was huge and dramatic. Another realization hit him as hard as the first, and he stared deeply into her eyes. “Did you never tell me because you didn’t think I could handle his disability?” Direct, maybe, but Josh felt he was entitled to be direct given the circumstances.

      She paused before answering. “I didn’t know he was deaf until he was three months old. It made things harder—especially when your father found out...”

      “How did he know?” Josh started to shout, then remembered Jonah was upstairs asleep—then remembered Jonah was deaf—it was all tangling into knots inside his head. How was he supposed to act here? He didn’t have a clue.

      “I told you, I don’t know how he found out. Does it really matter?”

      “Yes,” he shot back. “No. I don’t know.”

      “It made it easier to come up with reasons not to tell you.” When he shot her a look for that, she sighed and said, “You never had much patience for things that don’t work the way they’re supposed to.”

      “Things,” he corrected, anger