The Child Who Rescued Christmas. Jessica Matthews

them there. Once again, she was racked with indecision.

      “Are you okay, Sara?” Cole asked from the doorway, a worried wrinkle on his forehead.

      “I’m just peachy,” she answered waspishly. “How do you think I am?”

      He didn’t answer, as if he knew the answer. “May I come in?”

      “Suit yourself.” She spied the edge of the black silk teddy she’d purchased specifically for this weekend and poked it underneath her jeans and sweatshirts to keep it out of sight.

      “Are you unpacking?” he asked.

      “Yes.” She eyed the case and suddenly didn’t feel inclined to empty it, especially when the urge to grab it and run away was far too strong. “No. I’m not sure.”

      “Maybe this will help. Packing means you’re leaving. To stay, you have to unpack.”

      He sounded calm, as if he were simply helping her decide between wearing a pair of blue or green scrubs. “I realize that,” she answered sharply. Then, realizing she sounded shrewish, she softened her tone. “I’m trying to decide. Unfortunately, I can’t decide what is the right thing to do.” She rubbed at the crease on her forehead.

      “I know you’re upset,” he began as he crossed the threshold.

      “Wow. Whatever gave you that idea? Why would I possibly be upset to hear that my husband …” Her voice cracked. “My husband had a child with another woman while we were separated? My God, Cole. It was only a week. One lousy week.”

      “Actually, it was ten days,” he corrected, “but, yes, those were lousy days on so many levels.”

      She brushed aside his comment. “One week, ten days, it’s practically the same thing. All I know is that I didn’t fall into bed with anyone during that time, even if I technically …” she made imaginary quotation marks in the air “… could have.”

      “It was a one-night error in judgment. It didn’t mean a thing.”

      “Oh, that’s wonderful, Cole. I’m sure Brody will be happy to hear his dad say that he was a mistake. An error in judgment.”

      “I only meant—”

      “The point is,” she continued, “I haven’t forgotten why we split up or why we got back together.”

      “I haven’t either,” he said evenly.

      She rubbed the back of her neck. “But now you’re asking me to ignore what you did and welcome your son with open arms.”

      His expression grew grave. “I’m only trying to explain what happened. While I know it’s too soon to ask for forgiveness, I’d like you to understand—”

      “I’m having trouble with that,” she said flatly. “The Cole Wittman I knew prided himself on his control and for you to do something so obviously out of control … well, it makes me look at our life together in a different light, which is why I can’t decide … about this.” She motioned toward her suitcase.

      “I knew the situation would be … tough to handle,” he admitted. “If it’s any consolation, I’ve dreaded telling you from the moment Maitland showed me Ruth’s will. I expected the news would be hard for you to swallow.”

      At least he was cognizant enough of her feelings to guess at her reaction. “You were right.”

      “I’m sorry to have landed us in this predicament.”

      Predicament was such an insipid term for the situation they were in, she decided.

      “Would you rather I’d kept this from you and told Maitland then and there that we weren’t interested in taking Brody?”

      It would have been so much easier, she thought with irritation, but she also knew that “easy” didn’t always mean “better.” Successful marriages were built on honesty, not secrets, and if Cole had kept this from her—even if part of her wished he had—they could be setting a dangerous precedent for their future relationship. What would stop him from withholding information from her again, especially if he deemed it was information she’d find uncomfortable?

      “Why didn’t you?” she asked, curious.

      He shrugged. “The truth eventually comes out. Maybe not today or next month or next year, but sometime down the road it would surface again. Fate has a way of doing the unexpected,” he said wryly, “and I figured that learning about Brody would be easier to handle now rather than in ten or twenty years.

      “And,” he continued tentatively, “knowing how badly you wanted a baby, I’d hoped …” His voice faded.

      “That I’d overlook Brody’s origins because he would satisfy my own need?” she asked icily.

      He had the grace to wince. “Something like that.”

      “You were wrong. Yes, I want us to have a baby, but only because a child is a logical extension of our love for each other. While I’d be happy to adopt a child, too, the fact that Brody is yours and not a stranger’s makes this situation unique. There’s another layer of emotional baggage that has to be dealt with.”

      He nodded, his face lined with a combination of resignation and misery. “I know.”

      “You’re placing me in a no-win situation,” she pointed out. “You realize that, don’t you?”

      “It isn’t a no-win,” he insisted. “If we can’t agree on Brody’s future, then that’s the end of it.”

      His even tone wasn’t reassuring because in her gut she knew this wouldn’t be the end. For the rest of their lives together, if she denied Ruth’s request, the what-ifs would plague them.

      On the other hand, if she walked away from Cole and the situation, she’d lose as much if not more.

      “You want to bring him home, don’t you?” That observation was irritating in itself. While she’d been eager to start the process of fertility testing, Cole had been content to bide their time, claiming he was happy with or without a baby. Now, though, he was almost falling over his own feet to welcome his secret child into their household.

      In a distant corner of her heart she knew she was being unfair, but at this moment she was still too crushed by a multitude of emotions to be rational.

      “I do, but not if we aren’t in agreement. We’re a team, Sara. We have to function like one. Besides, you’re the one with the strong family background. Without your support, I can’t be his father, or anyone else’s,” he said flatly.

      The idea that he needed her to do this job mollified her to some degree. It also helped to hear that her husband—a brilliant, meticulous, caring physician who’d graduated in the top ten percent of his medical school class—suffered from a few feelings of inadequacy, too. Unfortunately, could she trust him again? She didn’t realize she’d voiced her thought until he answered.

      “We’ve had nearly three wonderful years together,” he said simply. “And three before that. Have I given you any reason to doubt me during the time we’ve been together?”

      “I presume ‘together’ is the operative word?”

      Her barb had struck home because he fell silent. “I deserve that, I suppose, but I’m the same man I was yesterday, the day before, last week and last year. I love you more now than ever and I don’t ever want to hurt you. Every decision I make is tested against that standard. Yes, on that one occasion, I let my fear overrule my good sense. Yes, I drank more than I should have and, yes, I made a bad choice that I’ll regret for the rest of my days, but I don’t want to lose you over this, Sara. I … I can’t.”

      The solution to this utterly devastating change in their circumstances was simple. Leave the past in the past and focus on the future. Unfortunately, that was easier said