Her Secret, His Son

Was it easy, Tom? Mary’s eyes and throat stung. Did she have the right to ask that question? On the surface it must look as if she’d had no trouble turning her back on Tom and creating a new life.

‘I was so mad at my parents,’ she said, needing to change the subject.

‘But then you found Ed,’ Tom said quietly. It wasn’t an accusation, just a plain statement of fact.

‘Yes.’

She’d been a single mother in a foreign country—surrounded by military families. She’d been so lonely and Ed’s smile had been so warm. He’d been like a lighthouse—a friendly beacon for a shipwrecked sailor. And, as it turned out, he’d needed her and Ethan as much as they had needed him.

‘And what about you, Tom?’

‘I told you I haven’t been married.’ He scratched his head and smiled sheepishly. ‘I was engaged once, for twenty-four hours, but I was drunk when I proposed.’

Mary rolled her eyes. ‘How come you’ve always had a reputation as a bad boy, and yet I’ve never seen that side of you?’

He cocked his head to one side and sent her a crooked, quizzical smile. ‘Funny about that, isn’t it?’

Mary looked away. Was he suggesting that she had the power to transform him?

‘To be honest,’ Tom said, ‘I was a bit of a problem in your father’s unit. There were things about the regular Army that drove me nuts—guard duty, drill parades, admin book work. But when I got to Perth, and they discovered I had good grades, was good at languages, but had a bit of a wild record, the SAS snapped me up. That suited me better—action all the time, interesting people—important projects like Afghanistan—Iraq.’

The telephone rang, startling Mary, and she jumped to answer it.

‘Hi, honey,’ came her mother-in-law’s warm voice.

‘Oh, Susan, hi.’

‘I wasn’t sure if I’d catch you before tennis.’

Oh, heavens. Mary glanced at the clock and remembered that she still hadn’t rung to excuse herself from tennis this morning. ‘I have Ethan at home with a cold,’ she said.

She was aware of Tom standing, gathering up their coffee mugs. They made a slight rattling sound as he put them in the sink. Then came the sound of water running as he rinsed them.

‘Do you have company?’ Ed’s mother asked.

‘Actually, I have a visitor here who knows Ed,’ Mary said as calmly as she could. ‘He’s from Ed’s Special Squad.’

‘Fancy that.’ Susan McBride’s voice quavered. ‘Does he have any—any news?’

‘He brought Ed’s watch, Mom.’

‘Oh, Mary. Oh, dear Lord. Does that mean…?’

‘Tom doesn’t know where Ed is. Ed gave him the watch just before their last mission.’

‘Oh.’

During the stretch of silence that followed, Mary twisted the phone cord with nervous fingers.

‘Will this man be here for long?’ Susan asked. ‘You must bring him down our way. How about coming to lunch on Sunday? Or perhaps tomorrow would be better if he’s only here for a short stay. Frank and I would love to meet him.’

Mary hesitated. Clutching the phone receiver against her shoulder, she turned to Tom. ‘Ed’s mother has invited you to lunch on Sunday,’ she said as casually as she could manage, trying to hide her reluctance to have him more deeply involved in her life. ‘Or perhaps you’d prefer tomorrow.’

She prayed that he would refuse. How could she cope with the complication of Tom meeting Ed’s parents? Every minute with Tom stirred the deep hidden feelings she’d worked so hard to bury, and she didn’t know if she could hide her confusion with Ed’s parents watching her.

Tom must be as anxious as she was to leave the past dead and buried behind them.

‘Sure,’ he surprised her by answering readily. ‘Please tell Mrs McBride thank you. I’d like to meet Ed’s parents. Tomorrow would be great.’

CHAPTER FIVE

AS TOM strode down the hill away from Mary’s apartment the undulating green parkland of Arlington National Cemetery stretched beyond the trees to his right. In the distance ahead of him he caught a glimpse of the slow, dignified curve of the Potomac River.

The sun was warm on his back and it was a relief to be walking. The way he felt right now he needed to walk all the way from Arlington right on to downtown Washington DC. Hell, finding Mary had him so wired with pent-up energy and angst he could walk clear across Virginia to Chesapeake Bay without stopping.

What a whacko world they lived in.

How could fate be so crazy that it led him to Mary Cameron again after eight long years, only to reveal that she was married to one of his best mates? And, damn it, she was a mother as well. Mother of his mate’s son.

And the hell of it was, she was still able to cause him heartache. Mary had an extra aura of womanliness about her now, a Madonna-like softness and a mysterious, sensuous depth to her beauty that pierced him like a bayonet.

Ramming his hands into his trouser pockets, he flexed his shoulders and tried to release some of the building tension. Mary—his Mary. It shocked him to realise that he still thought of her as his. Damn fool that he was.