Firstborn Page 17

  He was thinking that very thing when Trevor suddenly announced it was time he took Louisa home. It didn’t take long for the farewells to be spoken. The next thing he knew, Dallas found himself alone on the patio with Kirsten. Erika and Ethan had disappeared into the house, cleaning up.

  Kirsten looked at him, then at her watch. “I suppose I should leave, too.”

  “So soon?”

  “Tomorrow starts another workweek.”

  “I… ah… I thought we might talk awhile longer. Just the two of us.”

  She looked at him with eyes so like his own that it was spooky.

  “You’ve answered questions all afternoon,” he said. “I thought you might want to ask a few questions yourself.”

  “Questions about what?”

  “Well… about me, I guess.”

  Kirsten drew a deep breath. “There is one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’d like to know where I’m going to fit into your life.”

  Where does she fit in? It was a good question.

  He remembered Paula’s words: “Don’t you get it? She’ll be after our money. Just you wait and see.”

  Paula wasn’t about to make Kirsten feel welcome, and if he pursued a relationship with his newfound daughter, his wife would make his life agony.

  “I know,” Kirsten said, interrupting the lengthy silence. “It’s complicated. Right?”

  He nodded. “Yes, I guess it is. But don’t take that to mean I don’t want you to be a part of it.”

  “You do?”

  The vulnerability revealed in those two small words shook him to the core.

  “Yes,” he answered, “I do.”

  He was rewarded with a smile that would have melted any father’s heart.

  Exhaustion settled over Erika like a heavy cloak, and yet she couldn’t sit still. After Dallas and Kirsten finally left and Ethan went over to Cammi’s to watch a video, there was plenty of tidying up to do. But when all of the obvious chores were done, she found herself making work in order to stay busy. The house was too silent, too empty, now that she was alone again.

  As dusk turned to night she went outside and sank onto a patio chair, listening to the crickets’ evening serenade. It wasn’t long before Motley joined her. She stroked his head, thankful for a warm body to touch, thankful to feel connected to something living and breathing.

  She’d read once that babies could die if they were never held. They needed to be touched.

  So do I.

  The reality of Steven’s departure hit her like a sledgehammer, and she began to cry. She cried as she hadn’t been able to cry since the moment he left. The tears came silently, copiously, rolling down her cheeks and dropping onto her bare arms in an unending stream.

  What am I going to do? How could you do this, Steven? How could you do this to us?

  January 1984

  Erika stared at her reflection in the mirror of the hotel suite’s bathroom. She was wearing a white, frothy negligee, a bridal-shower gift from Anna Smith. A nightgown worthy of an innocent, blushing bride on her wedding night. But she wasn’t innocent, was she?

  Terror seized her. When Steven made love to her, would he know the truth? Would he be able to guess?

  Beyond the bathroom door, her groom awaited her. Soon he would carry her to that king-size bed. Soon he would claim her for his own.

  Oh, Steven, I’m sorry. I love you. Please don’t know. Please don’t guess. It seems so long ago now, like it happened to somebody else.

  She drew a deep breath, steadying her nerves.

  We’re going to have a wonderful life. I’m going to be the best, most loving wife any man ever had. I’ll never let you regret marrying me. Never, never, never. I promise.

  A light tap sounded on the door. “Erika? You okay in there?”

  She drew another shaky breath, then turned from the mirror. “Yes, Steven. I… I’m fine. I’ll be right out.”

  Please don’t know. Please love me forever. Please.

  Twenty-nine

  Erika couldn’t remember a longer, more sleepless night than the one just past. She’d been tortured by countless doubts and fears, her thoughts run amuck.

  The morning held little promise for improvement. She knew she must tell Ethan about his father. Her son would have seen that Steven’s car was absent when he returned from Cammi’s last night. She’d avoided his questions by retiring before he got home. She wouldn’t be able to avoid them this morning.

  How would she find the words to tell him? How could she explain what had happened when she didn’t understand it herself? Ethan adored his father. They’d always been close. He’d trusted his parents to stay together, to honor their wedding vows, to cleave to each other as the Bible said they should.

  Guilt and anger warred within her. Guilt for what she’d done. Anger for what he’d done.

  If she hadn’t said the things she’d said… If he’d had one ounce of forgiveness in him… If she hadn’t kept the truth from him all these years… If he’d thought about her and not just himself…

  She got out of bed, slipped on her robe, and went to make a pot of coffee.

  Ethan was seated at the kitchen table, waiting for her.

  “Where’s Dad?” he asked the moment their eyes met.

  She stopped. Her throat tightened. “I don’t know.”

  “He walked out on us?”

  “Not us.” She moved to the table and sat on one of the chairs. “Me. He feels betrayed. He needs some time to work it through.”

  “And he’s not betraying you now?” Her son’s voice rose, and his eyes lit with anger. “Don’t make excuses for him, Mom. He’s acting like a jerk.”

  Erika shook her head slowly. “Don’t say things like that about your father.”

  “Why not, if it’s true?”

  “Because it isn’t respectful.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t deserve any respect right now.”

  “Ethan,” she whispered, fighting another wave of tears. “Don’t.”

  “I can’t help it, Mom. All my life I’ve listened to him telling me I need to do the right thing, even when it isn’t the easy thing. He’s said we’re supposed to forgive others, no matter what they’ve done. But he’s not forgiving you, is he? And you’re the first person he ought to forgive. You’ve always stood by him and prayed for him and just been there when you were needed.”

  “I shouldn’t have kept Kirsten a secret.”

  Ethan made a rude sound. “Stop making excuses for him.”

  “I never—“

  “You deserve better than this, Mom.” He stood. “And so do I.”

  Erika didn’t fight the tears any longer. She let them fall.

  Her son looked as if he was fighting tears of his own. “We’ll be okay,” he said thickly. “I’ll take care of you.”

  Kirsten stood beneath the shower, eyes closed, the water pulsing against her scalp. She’d slept fitfully and felt more exhausted now than she had when she’d gone to bed. Not her favorite way to start the workweek.

  She wondered if her father had slept any better.

  Where do I fit in? Am I going to be like a real daughter or only a casual acquaintance?

  At least Dallas hadn’t made her feel like a mere mistake from his past. To be honest, she’d liked him, and she thought he might like her, too.

  She turned off the water. The bathroom was thick with steam, the mirror fogged.

  Half an hour later, with her hair blown dry and her makeup applied, Kirsten returned to the bedroom to dress. She was almost done when the phone rang.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi, honey.”

  Kirsten sat on the edge of the bed, cradling the phone between ear and shoulder as she reached for her shoes. “Hi, Mom.”

  “I know you must be getting ready for work,” Donna said, “but I’m dying to know how it went yesterday. Did you meet Mr. Hurst?”

  “Yes, I met him. It went good.”

  �
�What’s he like?”

  Kirsten knew she was on thin ice. Her mother was putting on a good front, trying hard to be supportive, but she was still afraid of losing her daughter.

  She chose her words carefully. “He’s nice. Good-looking. He’s got his own company. He’s married, but I haven’t met his wife. She wasn’t there yesterday.”

  Her mother was silent for a few moments, then said, “Have you heard from Van?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Mrs. Mendoza from up the street thinks he’s got a new girlfriend.”

  “He’s a nice guy. Girls like him,” Kirsten said.

  “I thought he’d wait to see if you came back.”

  “I didn’t want him to wait, Mom.”

  “You seemed to like him a lot. I thought—”

  “I did like him.” Kirsten sighed. “But we weren’t destined for anything permanent. I think we both knew that from the start.”

  Her mother changed the subject again. “Did I tell you I might get a puppy?”

  “Really?”

  Donna Lundquist had never been big on pets.

  “One of my regulars has a dog with a new litter, and she offered me one of the puppies. Says it’ll be good company now that you’ve moved away and I’m all alone.”

  Kirsten felt the required sting of guilt. “What kind of dog is it?”

  “Heinz 57, but small. A kind of terrier.” Her mother sighed, then said, “Guess I’d better hang up now. I know you need to get to work.”

  Kirsten glanced at the clock. “Yes, I do.” She stood. “Let me know if you get that puppy.”

  “I will. I love you, honey.”

  “I love you, too, Mom. Bye.”

  She placed the phone in its cradle and was surprised to find her vision blurred by tears.

  Why, she wondered, did life have to be so complicated?

  Steven had spent a sleepless night on the small sofa in his office at the school. He cleaned himself up in the morning in the boys’ washroom.

  What are you doing here? he asked himself as he stared into the thigh-high sink, the faucet dripping.

  He’d replayed the scene in their bedroom yesterday a hundred times, trying to make it come out differently, but it always ended the same—with his leaving.

  Would he have changed things if he could? He wasn’t sure. Didn’t he have a right to be angry? Didn’t he have a right to want someone to pay for the hurt and anger he was feeling? Well, didn’t he?

  No, a small, unwelcome voice whispered in his heart. No, you don’t have the right.

  Steven chose to ignore his conscience. He turned and left the washroom.

  Since he didn’t want his secretary to know he’d spent the night at the school, he decided now would be a good time to go get something to eat. In his office, he grabbed his duffel bag off the floor, then headed outside to his car.

  After he had breakfast, he’d need to find a place to stay, he thought as he tossed his bag onto the passenger seat and slid behind the wheel. The thought chilled him. He hadn’t lived alone since his college days.

  Go home, that persistent little voice said, but he shut his ears to it.

  He was the wronged party here, and he wasn’t going home.

  Thirty

  To Dallas’s surprise, the days immediately following the gathering at Steven and Erika’s home were better than those immediately before. Paula was loving, affectionate, and agreeable from sunup until well after sundown. She even offered to have Kirsten over to the house for dinner so they could become acquainted. Dallas wasn’t sure what had brought about his wife’s change of heart, but he was glad for it. Now if he could make things right between him and Steven, all would be perfect.

  When his secretary buzzed to tell him he had a call on line four, he hoped it was Steven returning one of the several messages he’d left at the school this week. It wasn’t.

  “Dallas, this is Nick Franklin. I’m the youth pastor at Harvest Fellowship. Ethan introduced us last Sunday.”

  “Yes. I remember.”

  “Ethan told me you’re a new believer. He thought you might be interested in the men’s Bible study we have on Thursday mornings. Steven Welby’s a regular. We hoped you might join us tomorrow.”

  A number of excuses popped into his head: He usually ran a few miles on weekday mornings. He was too busy at work to add another thing to his schedule. He doubted Steven would be overjoyed to see him there.

  In the end, he said, “Sure. I think I can make it. When and where do you meet?”

  Pastor Nick gave him the time—six o’clock—and the name of the restaurant; then the two men said goodbye and hung up.

  Me in a Bible study. Who’d’ve believed it?

  Dallas shook his head, then glanced at the clock. It was approaching the lunch hour. He walked out of his office, stopping at his secretary’s desk. “Where’s the closest store where I can buy a Bible?”

  The surprised look on Karla’s face was almost comical. Or maybe it was tragic. After she recovered herself, she looked up the nearest Christian bookstore in the phone book, wrote the address on a slip of paper, and handed it to him.

  On his drive across town, he pondered his secretary’s reaction. He couldn’t help wondering how his coworkers, acquaintances, and friends would describe him if asked. Several words sprang to mind.

  Driven.

  Ambitious.

  Greedy.

  He winced. Surely there were a few complimentary words that could be added to that list. He was successful. He was a good provider. He was as honest as any other businessman he knew.

  Something told him God wasn’t impressed.

  On her lunch hour, Kirsten took a blanket to the river-bank and spread it on the ground in the shade of a large, gnarly tree. Then she removed her shoes and stuck her bare feet in the cold water while eating her sandwich and sipping a diet soda. The tree limbs stirred overhead, causing shadow and light to sway around and over her.

  But the soothing sounds of rippling water and fluttering leaves couldn’t work their magic, not with the thoughts that troubled her mind.

  She’d learned last night that Steven Welby had moved out of his house. What Erika hadn’t said—but what Kirsten knew—was that she was the reason.

  “I’m sorry,” she’d told her birth mother, feeling how lame those words were.

  “It isn’t your fault. Don’t think it is.”

  Kirsten hadn’t replied. What, after all, could she have said?

  She lay back on the blanket and stared at the patch of blue sky beyond the branches. She wondered how Ethan was taking his father’s leaving. It had to be a tough blow. He was a pretty together kid, but still. Would he blame her?

  Probably. And why not? If she hadn’t dropped suddenly into the middle of their family—

  Nearby, she heard a man clear his throat. She sat up, startled.

  Dallas Hurst smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to give you a scare.”

  “You didn’t.”

  He could have called her a liar. He let his smile broaden instead. “Mind if I join you?”

  She shook her head, feeling as nervous as she had when they’d first met.

  He sank onto the edge of her blanket. “Sorry I haven’t gotten around to calling you this week.”

  She shrugged her shoulders, as if she hadn’t counted the hours that had passed since Sunday.

  “I stopped by your office, and they told me I could find you down here.” He gazed at the river. “Good place to unwind and reflect.”

  “I’ve thought so.”

  Dallas looked at her again. “Paula, my wife, would like you to come to dinner on Friday. If you don’t already have other plans.”

  She didn’t, but—

  “Paula’s had a hard time adjusting to the thought of me having a daughter your age.”

  “I’ve been a big surprise to everybody.”

  “No kidding.”

  “A bad surprise or a good one?” She hadn’t meant to ask tha
t question. The words slipped out of their own accord. And once spoken, she was scared to death of his answer.

  Her father’s dark eyes narrowed slightly as he watched her. It seemed an eternity before he replied, “A little of both, I guess.”

  Was she glad for his honesty or hurt by the truth?

  “Unexpected change isn’t usually welcomed with open arms,” he added.

  “No,” she sighed, “I suppose not.”

  He peered at the river. “There’ve been a number of changes in my life recently. Changes I hadn’t planned on. I haven’t handled all of them well, but I’m working on it.” He was silent for a few moments; then he continued, his voice low and pensive. “On Sunday, you asked where you fit into my life. I didn’t give you an answer.”

  Kirsten found it hard to breathe.

  “I’d like to learn to be your father.” Dallas looked at her again. “I’ve had no practice at being a dad. Paula and I’ve wanted to start a family, but it hasn’t happened yet. I’ll probably make lots of mistakes as we get to know each other. But that’s what I’d like, if it’s what you want, too.”

  It was what she’d come to Idaho for—to find a father, her father. Oh, there’d been her job, but that had been a means to an end. What she’d wanted for more years than she could count was to have a father’s love. Was it possible that her dream was within her grasp?

  She nodded, fighting the lump in her throat. “I’d like it, too.”

  “Terrific.” He grinned.

  Kirsten released a nervous laugh. “Terrific.”

  “About Friday,” he said as he glanced at his wrist-watch. “How about six o’clock for dinner?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll call Erika and Steve and ask them to join us. You’ll feel more comfortable if they—”