Anne Peters - My Baby, Your Son

Jared knocked on the door, then right away pushed it open and stuck in his head. “April?”

No answer. A quick scan of the room revealed that it was empty. Puzzled—maybe she’d gone to the bath- room?—he’d hovered in the doorway, and that’s when he heard it. A keening sort of whimper. And it came from the direction of the closet.

Two strides took him there. He wrenched open the door. There was April. Curled into a tight little ball with her arms wrapped around her head, rocking, moaning.

“April. Honey…” Dropping to his knees, Jared reached for her.

“No…” She shrank away, curling more tightly into her- self. “The d-door…the light…oh, please….”

Jared had crawled into the closet with her, closed the door, and held her. Held her….

But who was holding her now? Who had held her all the times in between until the pain went away?

Damn you, April Bingham. Jared leapt to his feet and charged out of his father’s den as though pursued by a stampede of cattle. I don’t want this, you hear me? Not again. Never again.

He ran to the stable and, hands shaking, saddled his horse. Only one thing could get his emotions and priorities back where they belonged—a long, hard ride through the surf.

But it didn’t help this time. April Bingham stayed with him as though he were holding her in the saddle in front of him the way he had so often done in the past.

And when, hours later, he cantered past the stairs that led from the beach up to Cliff House and saw April stand- ing up on the cliff, silhouetted against the purpling sky, he knew his emotional troubles had only begun.

“He is cooperating,” April said to her attorney who had called to follow up on the letter to Jared he had copied her on. “Or, at least, that’s more or less what he indicated to me two days ago.”

“More or less?” Greg Hoskins queried. “What does that mean?”

“Well…” April quickly related details of her phone con- versation with Jared, ending with, “I haven’t seen or talked to him since.”

“Any chance he’s intending to renege?”

“No.”

“You sound pretty sure for a woman who’s been be- trayed the way you have.”

“Oh, I am sure,” April said. “And anyway, I’ve since found out that Jared wasn’t…I mean, he apparently didn’t know. Well, I’m just sure,” she said again when it occurred to her that Jared’s ignorance of the fact that she had not been responsible for Tyler’s release for adoption was irrel- evant with regard to her attorney.

“Does this newfound confidence in Dr. O’Neal mean you no longer deem it necessary to investigate him?”

“Well, no…. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to make sure we’ve covered all the bases.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that, Ms. Bingham. Wouldn’t want any unpleasant surprises at some future date, would we?”

“No.” Disturbed, April gnawed on her thumbnail. “Jar- ed would not be pleased if he found out we were doing this.”

“Perhaps not,” the attorney allowed. “However, there’s no reason to think that he would. Find out, I mean. These things are handled with discretion and confidentiality, if that’s what’s worrying you.”

“Hmm.” April bit down on her nail too hard and, vexed with herself, jerked her hand away. She had half a mind to cancel the investigation after all. She had still been reeling from all she’d found out and girding herself for battle, so to speak, when she had authorized it initially. Discover the opponent’s weaknesses and capitalize on them, had been the rationale. The way things stood now, however…

She sighed. “Well, if you’re sure it won’t cause prob- lems?”

“Positive.”

The word went around and around in April’s head like a circling vulture for quite some time that afternoon. Maybe she should have called the thing off.

Still fretting about it as she left the post office later that afternoon—a substitute had been in for Jean Ivers, thank God—and feeling another headache coming on, she finally told herself— Enough.

If Jared had nothing to hide, he would never know she’d had him checked out. And in the unlikely event something objectionable should turn up, then, well—

Childish shouts and laughter abruptly snagged April’s attention.

“Hey, Charlie, watch this!”

“Heck, that’s nothin’, man!”

Turning her head toward the sound, she realized she was at the school yard where the Gulls played baseball. Sure enough, several uniformed youngsters were already on the field, tossing balls, swinging bats, warming up for a game or practice.

A leap of excitement quickened April’s pulse. Eagerly, wondering if Tyler would by chance be one of the kids, she looked around more closely. And there—her heart skipped a beat—there he was.

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