His Secret Child

“I like Xavier,” Mercedes said with a little hero worship in her voice. “He’s in first grade.”

“That’s right.”

Fern read two picture books and then, firmly denying the request for a third, turned off the light.

She grabbed a novel and sat down on the floor outside the child’s bedroom.

Sometimes nights were hard for Mercedes. She still missed her mom.

But tonight was a good night. Within minutes, Mercedes had drifted off and was breathing the heavy, steady breath of a child in sleep.

Fern went back downstairs quietly, picked up her phone and headed to the kitchen where her sleeping housemates couldn’t hear her.

This time, the call went through and a couple of minutes later, she was talking to her yawning friend Angelica. “What? Carlo’s there?”

“He’s asleep on the couch even as we speak.”

“Let me go out in the hall so I don’t wake my boys. I can’t believe this!” Angelica’s voice proved that she’d come wide-awake. “I haven’t seen him for a couple of years, except for a few minutes at our wedding. Why’d he have to show up now, instead of last week?”

“He didn’t even stay for the whole wedding?”

“No, he stayed. And at our house after for a night, but I was with my husband.” Her voice went rich and happy.

Sudden hot jealousy flashed through Fern. Why couldn’t she ever feel that joy that seemed to come so readily to other fortunate women?

She got a grip on herself. What was wrong with her? She was truly happy for her friend. She explained about Carlo’s fever. “He’s pretty sick, and he said that’s why he hadn’t called first. I just wanted to touch base with you because...well, he’s a stranger and I don’t know if it’s safe to have him here. I mean, I know you and I’d trust you with my life, and Mercedes’s, but...”

“I totally understand.” Angelica paused, obviously thinking. “I wonder who he could stay with. We could call Troy’s brother, Sam, and see if he could stay out there. Or Gramps. He could bunk down at the Senior Towers. They have a new rule about no guests staying overnight, but maybe they’ll bend it for Carlo, at least for one night.” She sounded doubtful.

“I hate to make him go,” Fern said. “It’s snowing something awful.”

“Carlo’s been in much worse places. He’s very tough. He can handle a little drive in the snow.”

“I don’t know. He’s pretty shaky.”

“Let me make a few calls,” Angelica said with a huge yawn. “I’m sure I can get hold of somebody who’ll take him in, if this phone doesn’t glitch again.”

“It’s okay, you go back to sleep. I can call Sam or your grandpa.” Fern’s shy side cringed at the notion of talking to men she barely knew, but it would be worth it to get the disconcerting Carlo out of her house.

“Oh, could you? That would be so wonderful. We had a long day, and Xavier didn’t want to go to sleep, and...”

“And you’re frazzled. Go back to bed. I’ll deal with Carlo.”

“Thanks so much! And, Fern, he’s a totally trustworthy guy, okay? A real hero. He took incredible care of me when I was a kid. He managed everything when our parents couldn’t, and got Gramps to take me in. Plus, he’s done all kinds of top-secret military stuff. Has a security clearance that’s a mile high. And he’s served as a missionary in all kinds of super-dangerous places. So you’re safe with him, whatever happens.”

They said their goodbyes and Fern stared at the man on the couch. A military hero, huh? And a missionary to boot.

But as she studied him, another thought crossed her mind: What if he wasn’t Carlo? What if he was a criminal who’d just assumed that name and identity? Sure, Bull had acted friendly, but maybe the guy had a pocket full of good-smelling dog treats.

How could she verify that this guy on her couch was in fact Carlo, Angelica’s brother, the war hero?

She walked around the house, looking at the photo groupings, but she didn’t see any that included Angelica’s brother. Of course, he hadn’t been around lately, but you’d think she would have old pictures of him...

Except that the two of them had grown up in chaos, and Angelica had struggled, really, right up until she’d reconnected with Troy. So there were no pictures of Xavier and his uncle Carlo; Angelica probably hadn’t even had a phone.

She saw a khaki-colored duffel bag by the door, next to his jacket, and an idea crossed her mind.

She looked back at the stranger, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Then she walked over toward his things. Surely he’d have identification there, or at least something to verify his identity. To put her mind at ease. Searching the man’s belongings wasn’t the most ethical thing to do, but she had a child to protect.

And if she was going to search, she needed to do it now, while he slept.

A quick check of his jacket pockets revealed nothing, so she undid the knots that tied the duffel shut, moving slowly and carefully. Given how he’d jumped up and grabbed her, he was obviously pretty sensitive to noise. She had to be utterly silent.

She eased the bag open and then tensed as his breathing changed. He shifted over to his side while she sat, frozen, watching him.

As soon as he breathed steadily again, she parted the edges of the bag.

The first thing she saw was an eight-inch hunting-type knife, in an old-looking leather case that would go on a belt.

Well, okay, then. He hadn’t taken that through airport security, no way.

She picked it up with the tips of two fingers, pulled it out of the duffel, and set it beside her on the floor.

Digging on through, she found some trail mix, a thriller paperback and a Bible that had seen hard use. She took the risk of flipping through it and saw underlining, highlighting, turned-down pages.

Wow. He took his faith seriously. What would that be like? Since being saved, Fern attended church most Sundays and read a devotional book every night before she went to sleep, but she’d never gone so far as to study the Bible on her own.

He certainly didn’t fit the stereotype of a Bible scholar, but Angelica had said he was a missionary. And anyway, who was she to judge? The fact that he had books, especially a Bible, was a point in his favor. Not quite enough to counteract that deadly looking knife, though.

Next, she found a vest. Camo colored, made of heavy nylon, with pouches that held hard plates. She pulled it out a little, making a slight clatter, and her heart pounded as she went still, turning her gaze to the man on the couch.

He shifted but didn’t open his eyes.

Whew. He was really out. She studied the vest more closely. A bulletproof, military-style vest? But why?

She put the vest down, thinking through the few facts she knew about Angelica’s brother. He’d been a good uncle to Xavier, a male influence who’d gotten him into sports when he was little. He’d been in the military, and right before Xavier became sick, Carlo had gotten the call to the missionary field. Come to think of it, she didn’t know whether the call was from a person or from God. Why hadn’t she listened more closely?

And if he’d gone into the missionary field more than two years ago, why were a bulletproof vest and hunting knife in the top of his overnight bag?

She rummaged underneath the vest and pulled out a photo in a metal frame, of Carlo squatting down in the midst of a group of ragged, dark-skinned boys. In the background was jungle-type vegetation and a leaf-covered hut. All of them, Carlo and the boys, were smiling broadly. The younger ones were pressed close to Carlo and he had his arms around them.

So he liked kids. Reassuring.

She wasn’t finding the ID she wanted, but she was finding evidence of a man with a complicated life.

She fumbled further and found a piece of notebook paper, folded over twice and much crumpled. She opened it up.