Leah was left in the heavy silence.
Embarrassed, Nan cleared her throat. “Sorry to interrupt.”
“No. If anyone should apologize, it’s me, I was the one yelling.” Leah tried to calm her breathing. “Will you tell me one thing?”
“If I can.”
“Did you know a John Johnson?”
“John? Sure. He was Matt’s younger brother. Half brother, really. Matt was always looking out for him.”
And still was, apparently.
Leah allowed enough time to collect herself before driving to Matt’s house. His truck was parked out front. He didn’t answer the door, so she walked around back to the shop.
He was sitting at his work bench, a piece of alder wood in his hands. Although she was sure he heard her, he didn’t stir.
And she didn’t bother with greetings. “You could have told me about Kyle being your brother.”
“It didn’t take you long to figure it out.”
“I shouldn’t have had to.”
Matt put the wood down on the bench. “Why would you want to come back now? You’re a stranger to Danny.”
That stung. Badly. “Through no fault of my own. Kyle wanted money from my parents. They expected him to work for it. That wasn’t in his plans, so he took Danny. Then he called and asked for half a million dollars. He said it was to set him up in his own business. He wanted to be a big-time real estate mogul just when the market was hitting bottom. My parents refused. I thought he’d give up and bring Danny home, but he didn’t.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Danny was an infant! Barely six weeks old.”
Matt met her gaze. “I’m the one who fed him. Changed his diapers. Rocked him to sleep. Held him when he cried.”
Leah’s chest constricted. “You think I didn’t want to?”
“No.”
“Because Kyle, who lied about everything, told you so?”
Matt stood. “You knew him, what? A year? I knew him all his life.”
“Then you should have known he was chasing one half-baked idea after another. He didn’t care about family, about establishing a real life together. All he wanted was a great big handout from my parents, and when that didn’t happen he stole my son.”
“He was pursuing his dreams, which he gave up to raise his son when you abandoned him.”
She shook her head. “You can’t really believe that.”
“Because you say it isn’t true?”
“I’m his mother.”
“Which hasn’t meant squat.”
“This isn’t going to end with your say-so. Danny is my son. That means legally, no matter what steps you may have taken.”
“So you’ll just rip him away from everything and everyone he knows and loves without a qualm.”
Leah swallowed. “I know my rights.”
“Kyle said that money ruled your conscience.”
She gasped. “That isn’t true.”
“Then think about Danny instead of yourself.” He walked toward her.
Automatically, Leah took a step backward.
Matt continued advancing. “He’s not a baby anymore. He’ll ask questions. About where you were.”
“I’ll tell him the truth.”
Matt scoffed. “And he’ll believe you? Why?”
“Because I’m his mother.” Even as she spoke, Leah recognized the futility of the words. Danny didn’t feel any connection to her. He would believe Matt. “You’re not going to dissuade me.” She could feel the pressure, the tightening in her chest, the ache against the back of her throat. But she wouldn’t give into tears in front of this man. “I’ll be back.”
Trying to look as though she were still in control, she fled before her emotions exploded. Back in the car, she drove only a short distance from his house before she pulled off the road onto a deserted cattle crossing. Then she let the tears flow. Ugly, painful sobs clutched her chest and scraped her throat.
Her baby.
He didn’t know her. He thought she’d tossed him aside. How was she going to fix that? And how was she going to explain that she had to take him away from the only parent he’d ever known?
Chapter Four
Leah picked at her oatmeal the following morning. She’d considered calling her parents’ attorney, but Matt Whitaker’s words echoed through her mind.
Then it occurred to her that she had only his version of how Danny had arrived in Rosewood.
“More coffee?” Annie asked.
“Thanks.”
“You’re awfully quiet. Everything okay?”
Leah glanced around the dining room and saw that the only other guests remaining, an older couple, were gathering their things to leave for the day. “Not really.”
“I’m sorry. Anything I can do?”
“Do you have a minute?”