Cedar Cove Collection

Eric had tried to hide his feelings, but they were all too transparent. His son had pinned his hopes on seeing Shelly over the Thanksgiving holiday, and her refusal had left him reeling. He was convinced she was involved with someone else now. That was when Jack had convinced Eric to visit a fertility clinic. Following the visit, Eric had gone into a depression that had lasted for days.

Not knowing what else to do, Jack felt he had no choice but to take matters into his own hands. By the time he reached the newspaper office, he’d formed a plan of action. He was going to call Shelly himself.

Luckily he had her work number, and when they connected, he suggested they meet for dinner. Shelly agreed and they set a time, choosing a place on the Seattle waterfront. Things had to change, and quickly. For his son’s sake…and his own.

At six-thirty that same day, Shelly met Jack at the fancy seafood restaurant. She’d already been seated and was waiting for him. She hadn’t seen him yet and he took advantage of the moment to study her. Shelly was a pretty girl, petite and fragile-looking, especially now. Jack was surprised to see that she was already wearing a maternity top. Easy enough to guess that she was pregnant.

“Hello, Shelly,” he said, kissing her on the cheek before sitting across from her.

“Mr. Griffin.”

“Please,” he insisted, “call me Jack.”

“All right.” She lowered her gaze, apparently reading the menu, but Jack had the feeling she already knew what she wanted to order. He knew what he wanted. The crab cakes were excellent. But this meeting wasn’t about crab cakes or any other menu item.

“I imagine you’re wondering why I called you,” Jack said as he set aside the menu.

“I assume it has to do with Eric.” Then, as if she couldn’t help herself, she asked, “How is he?”

“Not great,” Jack told her. “He misses you.”

Shelly looked toward the pier and the expanse of black inky water beyond. “I miss him, too.” Her voice was soft.

“Was my son always such a slob?” Jack tossed in the question, hoping for a lighter mood. Eric could well have come by it naturally. His own lack of orderliness had never bothered Jack much, but Eric’s drove him to distraction. Besides, Eric far surpassed him in any slob competition.

“Always,” Shelly said with the beginning of a smile. “I’m the organized one. Is he eating all right?”

It probably wasn’t a good idea to admit his son was eating him out of house and home. “He seems to be doing just fine in that department. How about you?”

Shelly smiled a little more, and Jack noticed how pale she was. “I’m constantly hungry. I’ve never had an appetite like this in my life. I have breakfast and then by midmorning I’m so ravenous I have a second breakfast.”

That explained why she was already into maternity tops. The poor girl had turned to food to help her through this difficult time. Jack wished he knew what to say.

“Have you talked to Eric recently?” he asked, carefully broaching the subject.

“No…we haven’t spoken since a week before Thanksgiving.”

“Then you don’t know.” Jack’s heart fell. So Eric hadn’t told her.

“Know what?”

“I convinced Eric to visit one of those fertility clinics and have his sperm tested. You claim this baby is his, and Eric says it can’t be because of something a doctor told us years ago.”

Shelly brightened immediately. “That was a great idea. Then he knows the baby is his.”

“Unfortunately, no.” Jack glanced around, surprised they hadn’t seen a waiter yet. As if on cue, the man stepped forward. Jack asked for coffee and the crab cakes; Shelly ordered the garden salad, with extra ranch dressing on the side, chicken fettuccini Alfredo, plus an order of garlic-and-cheese bread. Jack suspected that if desserts had been listed on the main menu, she would have ordered that, too.

“Explain what you meant about Eric. If he went to the clinic, then he must know he’s the baby’s father,” Shelly pressed. She spread the linen napkin over her lap and smoothed it out vigorously, as if a wrinkle were cause for disciplinary action. Her face was tight with anxiety.

“According to the report, the likelihood of Eric fathering children is highly improbable.” Jack hated to be the bearer of bad news, but he assumed Eric had told her. He’d figured their subsequent conversation, more than the report, was the cause of his son’s depression. “I read the clinic’s report myself. His sperm count is very low. There is a minuscule possibility he fathered the child, but he doesn’t see that. All he read were the words highly improbable.”

Shelly lowered her eyes and Jack wondered if she was struggling not to weep. “That explains a great deal,” she whispered.

“Oh?” Jack didn’t mean to pry, but if she was going to volunteer the information…

“It explains why he hasn’t called me. He doesn’t believe the baby’s his. He obviously thinks I cheated on him, and I resent that. His lack of faith in me is very hurtful, Jack.” She stared down at the table. “But despite all that, he’s continuing to make the rent payments. He knows I can’t handle them with what I’m earning.”

Jack wanted to groan out loud. While he appreciated the fact that Eric was generous, it also meant it could be years before he moved out on his own. Jack was stuck with his son.

“I told Eric not to, that I’d make the payments on my own, but he’s still covering the rent.” She paused, shaking her head. “I’m grateful. I don’t know what I’d do if I had to manage rent plus everything else.”

“Forgive me for being blunt here,” Jack said, “but I need the truth. Is Eric the father of your baby?”

For the first time Shelly’s eyes met his. “This baby is your son’s. As soon as he or she is born, I’ll be able to prove it without a doubt. Until then, I don’t think it would do any good for Eric and me to see each other again.”

That answered Jack’s other question even before he had the opportunity to ask. “I see.”

“Thank you for your concern, Jack,” she said quietly. “I appreciate it. But it doesn’t matter what that clinic told Eric. Because I know differently. I’ll be giving birth to the evidence in less than five months.”

By the end of dinner, Jack didn’t feel any closer to a solution. When he arrived home, Eric was sitting in front of the television eating from a large bag of potato chips.

“You’re late,” his son said, keeping his gaze focused on the television.

“I had dinner with Shelly in Seattle.”

Eric reached for the remote control and turned off the TV. “You were with Shelly?” He frowned at Jack, as if waiting for him to elaborate. “Did she call you?” he finally asked.

“I called her.” Jack shrugged off his raincoat and considered the best way to approach this dilemma.

“Did you tell her about the sperm test?” Eric demanded. His son was on his feet now, outrage flashing from his eyes.

“There wasn’t any bread left this morning,” Jack said, “and the hot water was used up and then both towels were wet and—”

“You broke my trust because I ate the last stale piece of bread in the house? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“No… I was hoping that if I reasoned with Shelly, we might clear this up once and for all.”

“If you want me out of here, all you have to do is ask.” Eric stormed into what had once been the spare bedroom.

“I didn’t say I wanted you to move out,” Jack said, but his words held little conviction.

“Not a problem, Dad,” Eric said, rushing out of the room a minute later with his duffel bag. Clothes spilled out from all sides. “I’m out of here. You weren’t much of a father when I needed one as a kid. I don’t know what made me think you’d be any different now.”

Jack groaned in frustration. He’d made a mess of this when all he’d been trying to do was get their lives back to normal. “Eric, listen, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Eric repeated as if this was the most ridiculous comment he’d ever heard. “It’s a little late for that. Don’t worry, I won’t bother you anymore.”

With that, he was gone and Jack wondered how long it would be before he heard from his son again.