A Mother's Claim

“I wish—” Christian wasn’t even sure what he’d meant to say. He wished Mom hadn’t done it? Or that she was watching over him, like people had claimed she was? Or that she hadn’t been crazy to start with?

But Uncle Nolan had pulled him into a tight hug and said, in his deep voice, “I do, too, son.”

And Christian knew he really did understand. That he had all the same wishes, never sure which one to go for, because he had loved Christian’s mom even though he got really mad at her, too.

They had sat there long enough Christian should have been embarrassed, but he wasn’t, because Uncle Nolan wasn’t. Nobody could say Uncle Nolan wasn’t a really tough guy. If he thought it was okay to hug, then it was.

Today Christian didn’t argue. He had a bunch of homework. He was in a pullout program to take an advanced math class, and they were doing some algebra and geometry, which he really liked. Today’s problems were hard, and he was still working on them when Uncle Nolan said, “Closing time.”

He threw Christian’s bike in the back of his Suburban, then said, “I ordered a pizza.”

“Cool!”

They picked up an extralarge with practically everything on it. Uncle Nolan cooked broccoli, too. They always had a vegetable with dinner, no matter what else they were eating. Then they sat down and gorged.

Uncle Nolan did finally ask about his day and grimaced when Christian asked if he’d done any business at all.

“Sold a couple of Naish sails because I have them discounted. Harness lines, a vest, some little stuff.” Then he grinned. “Couple of cocky young guys rented a Hobie Cat.” That was a kind of small sailboat. Uncle Nolan thought they were ideal for rentals. “Came back an hour later with blue lips and chattering teeth, real sorry they hadn’t accepted my recommendation and rented wet suits, too.”

Christian laughed.

Like always, they cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher together; Uncle Nolan didn’t like anything left lying around, especially not dirty dishes.

Christian headed for the stairs. “I’ve still got homework to finish.”

Uncle Nolan said, “I need to talk to you first.” The way he said that scared Christian. It was kind of like when he’d had to tell Christian Mom was dead.

He went back to the table and sat down.

Uncle Nolan pulled out a chair, too. He sighed, rubbed his neck and sighed some more. Finally, he met Christian’s eyes. “I don’t know any way to soften this, so here goes. When Jason whacked you with that ax, I found out your blood type.”

Christian nodded.

“You have O positive. That’s pretty common.” He obviously didn’t want to say the rest. “It shook me up, because it meant my sister couldn’t be your biological mother.”

On an explosion of fear, Christian shoved his chair back. “That’s not true!”

Lines that weren’t usually there creased Uncle Nolan’s forehead. “I’m afraid it is. You know I had Dr. Santos draw your blood the week after you were hurt.”

Still not having risen to his feet, Christian went very still. He’d kind of wondered why, when he was seeing their family doctor to make sure the wound hadn’t gotten infected or anything like that, he’d had to give blood. Especially after he’d lost so much.

“The lab he sent the sample to verified the result. I requested your mom’s medical records to be sure I wasn’t misremembering.”

He lectured then, about blood types and why someone with AB blood couldn’t have a child with O blood, even if the other parent had it. He said he’d tried to get Marlee to tell him how she’d come to adopt Christian but she wouldn’t. Christian had heard enough to know they were arguing, but not what it was about. Now he did.

Scared like he’d never been, even when he was bleeding so much he thought he would die, Christian whispered, “But if she adopted me, it’s legal, right?”

“I can’t find any paperwork.” Worry and sadness made Uncle Nolan look different than usual. “I can see her not bothering to go to court for a decree. She had trouble following a bunch of steps or conforming to what people expected of her.”

“But...if she didn’t...where did she get me?”

“You know she lived on the streets sometimes. Your biological mother could have been a teenager or an addict she met there, unable to take care of you. Marlee would have known that Grandma and Grandpa and I would help if she brought you home.”

He swallowed and made himself say, “Does that mean I can’t stay with you?”

“No.” Uncle Nolan’s jaw muscles bulged. “I’ll fight dirty to keep you, if it ever comes to that. And if there’s one thing I learned at Fort Bragg and overseas, it’s how to fight dirty.”

Christian let himself breathe out and nod.

“Here’s the thing, though.” Uncle Nolan squeezed the back of his neck, like it hurt. “There’s one other possibility we have to think about.”

Christian got scared again. Really scared.

“You know when your mom was off her meds, she didn’t always know what she was doing. She’d think things were true that weren’t.”

He nodded numbly.

Uncle Nolan had these bright blue eyes. Right now they were really dark, and Christian saw that he did hurt.

“I need to make sure she didn’t steal you.”

“She wouldn’t!”

Uncle Nolan didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. Mom had gotten arrested a few times for shoplifting. Confused, she forgot she had to pay for things she wanted.

So...she did steal sometimes.

“I’ve wrestled with myself about this. A big part of me doesn’t want to do anything about what we know. You’re mine, and I want to keep it that way.”

Christian waited, fire scorching his stomach.

“But then I imagine how I’d feel if you disappeared and I never knew what had happened to you. What if you had parents who loved you deeply and you were taken from them? How can we go on the way we are and leave them suffering?”

Christian didn’t care about anybody else, so long as he could stay with Uncle Nolan.

“I’m not asking your permission.” His uncle’s blue eyes were regretful now. “I can’t live with myself if I don’t do this.”

He shrank back. “What’s...this?”

“We need to take a DNA sample—which we can get from some spit, so it’s no big deal—and have someone at the sheriff’s department list it in a couple of databases.”

“So...somebody can find me.” He was shaking.

“So if your DNA is already in one of those databases, a match will come up.”

“You’ll let them take me, won’t you?” Suddenly he was on his feet shouting. “You can’t say no if they come! They’ll just take me.” He backed away. “You lied. You’re just like Mom. You’re both liars!”

And he ran, not caring that it was dark and cold and raining outside. He didn’t slow down even to slam the back door behind him. He just kept running.

CHAPTER TWO

“PHOENIX HAS BEEN ACCEPTED.” Dana smiled at the very young woman across from her. “His enrollment starts at the beginning of the quarter. The child-care facility is right off campus, which makes drop-off and pickup easy for students. It won’t cost you a cent, as long as you stay in school full-time and receive passing grades.”

This was the best part of her job working at a nonprofit focused on helping single women with children find opportunities. Lucy Evans had been considerably easier to help than many of Dana’s clients. Not quite twenty, she had a two-year-old boy. Her mother lived at a subsistence level and was unable to help except for babysitting evenings when Lucy worked at a bar. Lucy and her little boy drifted from shelters to cheap by-the-week motels back to shelters. Her income gave her no hope of anything better. So far, she had avoided the trap of going from man to man, smart enough to recognize that the men she met in those bars and run-down motels couldn’t offer economic and emotional stability. What she had over many of Dana’s clients, besides common sense, was a high school diploma and grades that would have won her admission to a four-year college had she not become pregnant her senior year.

After struggling since her son’s birth, she had finally come to A Woman’s Lifeline and begged for help. Since Dana had first talked to her, Lucy had been accepted into the local community college nursing program, starting summer quarter. Scholarships would cover the cost of tuition and books. She could continue her evening job, taking advantage of her mother’s willingness to babysit. Because of the child-care program Dana had secured for them, Lucy could devote breaks between classes to studying. Dana had also found her subsidized housing at a cost she thought Lucy could handle.

This was one young woman, Dana believed, who would make it and emerge strong and capable.

Dana was intensely grateful that A Woman’s Lifeline provided free on-site child care while its clients met with their caseworkers. She had seen Phoenix when she first talked with Lucy, and the sight of him had been like a stiletto to her heart. His brown eyes, blond hair and grin couldn’t possibly look as much like Gabriel’s as her first reaction suggested. Even so, it was far safer to avoid seeing him at all.

Lucy jumped to her feet as Dana stood and threw her arms around her. “Thank you!” Tears shimmered in her eyes. “You’ve done so much for us. It’s like a miracle.”

“You’re very welcome,” she said. “Watching you succeed is going to give me more satisfaction than you can imagine. And, just so you know, I have no doubt whatsoever that you will succeed.”

Lucy was still wiping her eyes when she exited. Dana was surprised to find she had to blow her nose, too.

Fifteen minutes before her next appointment gave her time to have a cup of coffee. She was leaving her office when her mobile phone rang, the sound muffled because her purse was in a desk drawer. Knowing she was most often with clients during the day, friends and family rarely called during working hours. Heart pounding, she went back to her desk, fumbled the drawer open and delved into her handbag until she came up with the phone. She hated the hope that rose every single time the damn thing rang. Eleven years of painful, useless hope. It would be a neighbor letting her know she had a package UPS dropped off, or her dentist’s office urging her to schedule a cleaning.

She didn’t recognize the number, but it was local. She answered with a simple “Hello.”

“Ms. Stewart?”

The familiar voice made her dizzy enough to grope for the arm of her desk chair and then sink into it.

“This is Commander Knapp from the Aurora PD.”

As if she wouldn’t know who he was. Dana could not summon a single word.

“I’m happier than I can say to tell you we’ve had a hit on NamUs.” He knew he didn’t have to explain anything about the National Missing and Unidentified Persons System, not to her. “Your son is alive and well in a small town in Oregon.”

Something that should have been happiness but felt more like anguish swelled in her, pressing against her rib cage, rising in her throat, burning in her sinuses. She tried to speak, but she seemed to burst open at that moment, sobbing as she had never sobbed before. She couldn’t stop herself. She sat there, gripping the phone, and cried without even trying to check the deluge.

“Ms. Stewart?” Commander Knapp’s tinny voice rose from the phone. “I’ll give you a few minutes to process the news and then I’ll call back.”

She couldn’t even say thank you. The phone slipped from her fingers and dropped to the desk blotter. Tears kept gushing. Snot ran down her upper lip. A box of tissues kept for clients sat on the corner of her desk, but she couldn’t so much as reach for it.

Why did this feel so much like grief? Or was she letting go of an overload of grief that had built, day by day and year by year, until it was too much to contain?

Someone knocked. When she didn’t answer, the door cracked open. Jillian Markham, who had the next office, took one look and then rushed in.

“Oh, my God! Dana, what’s wrong?”

Dana’s face contorted and she cried harder.

Jillian saw the phone. “Bad news?”

Dana managed to shake her head.

“Oh, honey.” Jillian bent to hug her, deftly swiping her nose and cheeks with a tissue at the same time. “Just let it out.”

Dana couldn’t have said why that struck her as funny, but suddenly she was laughing and crying at the same time. Her body shook even as she soaked her coworker’s blouse, but Jillian only held her tighter.

Slowly, slowly, the storm abated. Maybe she’d run out of tears. Exhaustion swept through her, and she sagged. She felt as if she could slither to the floor, becoming a puddle.

“Honey?” Jillian pulled back a little, her face worried. “Let me get a wet washcloth and we’ll clean you up a little.”

She couldn’t have been gone a minute. The slightly rough cloth, wet with cold water, felt astonishingly good. Dana couldn’t remember the last time anyone had babied her like this—and that included her mother. She wouldn’t have permitted it. Yet here she sat, docilely accepting it.

Finally, Jillian patted her face dry, then perched on the edge of Dana’s desk. In her thirties, too, she was a curvaceous brunette whose husband was a physics professor at the University of Colorado. Dana always tried not to look at the framed photos of Jillian’s husband and two children on her desk.

“Can you tell me about it?” she asked.

Could she? Dana scrunched up her face and worked her mouth. The muscles were still obedient, if oddly numb.

“My son was abducted when he was a baby. Eight months old.” She could talk after all. Until now she’d only ever spoken of Gabriel to other parents who had lost a child. None of her coworkers knew, not even the ones like Jillian she considered to be friends. If they had, they might have worried about her. Pity, sympathy, might have broken her. “He was stolen from his crib. Police never found a trace. Nobody noticed anyone around the house.” Her mouth was dry. She finished, “That was eleven years ago.”

“I wish I’d known,” Jillian whispered. Suddenly tears glittered on her lashes. “I’m so sorry.”

“The phone call. It was the police detective who investigated.” Pressure built in her chest again. “They’ve found him, Jillian. Gabriel is alive. I don’t even know why I cried.” The words were so stunning, so beautiful, she had to say them again. “He’s alive!”

And, just like that, the pressure became a radiance that was surely visible through walls.

“He’s alive.” She smiled, she laughed and she cried again, Jillian doing the same. “I’ve waited eleven years to say this. My Gabriel is coming home.”

* * *

A MAN WHO’D once melted into the shadows and waited without moving for hours on end when he’d been hunting bad guys, Nolan couldn’t make himself sit down. He prowled the downstairs, wound so tight he expected to snap. Why hadn’t the woman called?

“Crap.” He rolled his shoulders. Maybe she’d never call. Maybe she’d had five more children by now and written off her firstborn. He could hope.

Christian was huddled upstairs in his bedroom. He’d promised to come down when he heard the phone ring, but he hadn’t promised to speak to Dana Stewart. His mother.

Nolan reached the living room wall and spun to continue his restless pacing.

The news had come a lot faster than he’d expected and could not have been worse. Either Marlee herself had stolen Christian—whose name had been Gabriel Angus Stewart—or she’d gotten him from someone who’d done the stealing. Either way, Christian had parents. Parents who had searched desperately for him, who had loved him, mourned him. Parents who had never given up.

Or, at least, a mother who hadn’t given up. Evidently, Gabriel’s parents had split up after his disappearance. Nolan knew that a tragedy often led to that outcome. People didn’t grieve the same way or at the same pace. They turned inward. They had to focus their rage on someone, and who was more available than a spouse?

It was the mother who was supposed to call any minute. Nolan had no idea what to say to her. He remembered his promise to Christian.

I’ll fight dirty to keep you, if it ever comes to that. And if there’s one thing I learned at Fort Bragg and overseas, it’s how to fight dirty.

But panic stalked him. How was he supposed to fight a woman who’d done nothing wrong? Who only wanted her little boy back?

His phone rang.

He closed his eyes for a moment, gathering himself, before answering. No sound came from upstairs. No eager or even reluctant feet thudded down the staircase.

“Nolan here.”

There was a small silence. Then a soft woman’s voice said, “Mr. Gregor?”

“That’s right.” It wasn’t in him to help her.

“I’m Dana Stewart. Gabriel’s mother.”

“He’s been Christian for a long time, Mrs. Stewart.”

“Ms.,” she said, almost sharply. “I’ve been divorced for a long time, too.”

“Why did you keep your husband’s name, then?” He threw it out, a challenge.

“Because it’s Gabriel’s.”

The simple truth in a tremulous voice made his head bow, his face twist.

“I understand.”

“Will you tell me more?” She sounded humble. “I mean, about how you ended up with my son?”

He couldn’t deny her this much.

“I’m former military. I was overseas when my sister emailed to let me know she was pregnant and expecting anytime. She was living in Denver.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “My parents and I weren’t thrilled. Marlee was mentally ill. At the time, she seemed stable. She responded well to medication but wouldn’t always stay on it.” He paused. “She returned to the West Coast about the same time I came home on leave, her little boy eight months old.”

“She planned to steal a baby.” This voice wasn’t tremulous. It was lent resonance by rage.

“It...would appear so. When I confronted her after finding out Christian’s blood type, though, she denied anything like that. I think she really believed that Christian was hers. That she’d gone through a pregnancy and had him the usual way. She told me how many hours she’d been in labor.”

“She lied.”

“Her truths weren’t the same as most people’s.”

“You’re excusing her.”

Suddenly angry, he said, “I’m explaining her. Do you want to hear it or not?”

In the silence that followed, he felt her grabbing for calm. He wondered what she looked like. Had Christian’s blond hair come from her or his father? Christian was a strikingly handsome boy, embarrassed because girls liked him. Did his looks come from her? His height?

“You’re right,” she said, with what he suspected was hard-won poise. “I know this can’t be easy for you. She’s your sister.”

“She was my sister. Marlee died a month ago.”

“Oh,” she whispered.

“Christian has lived with me for a couple of years anyway, and I spent as much time as possible with him before that.” He might as well lay it all out there, he decided. “As far as I’m concerned, he’s my son.”

“And yet he’s not.”

“He’s a good kid. He loves me.”

“That doesn’t make him yours.”

The fear of losing Christian would crush him if he let it. “He’s not your baby anymore, Ms. Stewart. You have to understand. He’s five foot six. Doing advanced math. Summers, he teaches windsailing and kayaking classes. He’s damn near a teenager.”

“Why did you put his DNA online if you feel this way?”

The question rocked him. Because it was the right thing to do.

“Because I understood that you might be out there, clinging to hope, fearing he was dead. I couldn’t let you keep hurting.”

“Thank you.” The softness was back, the undertone that spoke of devastation, of an unexpected miracle. “You can’t imagine what it felt like to get that call.”

As an opponent, she’d be hard to knock down. She had too much on her side.

“Have you let Christian’s father know?”

“Yes.” Constraint could be heard. “He’s as thrilled as I am. Needless to say, he’s eager to see Gabriel, too.”

“I assume you want to talk to Christian,” Nolan said abruptly.

“Yes. Oh, yes. Please.”

Damn it, damn it, damn it.

“Hold on.” He went to the foot of the stairs, covered the phone and called for Christian.

After a minute, a door opened and the boy appeared. He took the stairs slowly, shoulders hunched, expression mulish but his eyes showing how scared he was.

“Your mother,” Nolan said, and held out the phone.

* * *

DANA WAITED, ALL of her focused, hungry, listening for a voice she’d feared never to hear.

“Uh...hi.” The uh was deep, the hi a squeak. Damn near a teenager.

Her breath came faster. He wasn’t her baby, hadn’t been for a long time. He was almost twelve years old. How could that be?

“Hello—” she made herself say it “—Christian. I’m your mother.”

“I don’t know,” he mumbled.

“Accepting what you do know can be hard.”

His “I have a mom!” sounded angry, almost violent. Then he went quiet for a moment before saying more softly, “Had a mom.”

“I have missed you every day since you were taken.”

“Mom wouldn’t have done that.”

“Somebody did.” Dana knew she’d said it too sharply, but how could she not let him know how angry she was. “You were asleep in your crib in your bedroom. It was spring. The weather was nice. Your window had a screen, so I...left it open.” Craig had never let her forget that by doing so, she had left their child vulnerable. He didn’t quite say, It was your fault, but he didn’t have to. “You’d had a restless night, so I took a nap, too. When I woke up and went into your bedroom, your crib was empty and the screen on the window had been removed.”

Not only removed: stomped on, twisted. In unwary moments, she still saw the window screen lying mangled on the lawn. It had epitomized the worst of her fears. What kind of person had taken the time to destroy the window screen only because it had briefly gotten in the way?

Gabriel didn’t say anything. Even in her turmoil, she knew how torn his loyalties had to be. How could he accept that the woman he’d believed was his mother had committed a crime so awful?

“May I speak to Mr. Gregor again?” she said politely.

Her son didn’t even say goodbye. He probably felt a rush of relief as he handed off the phone.

The slow, rumbly voice was back. “If you’ll give me your email address, I’ll send you some pictures.”

She trembled. To see his face!

“If you would—” more that was hard to say “—I’d be grateful.” She gave him her email address.

“Consider it done.”

His kindness was reluctant but real, she thought.

She steeled herself. “Mr. Gregor, I have already bought an airline ticket. I will be arriving tomorrow. Can you recommend a place to stay?”

“Don’t you think you should give this longer before you get pushy?”

“I can’t read him when we’re on the phone.”

“Our computer has a camera. You could Skype.”

Anger punched through all the other emotions. “If you were me, would that satisfy you?”

Silence. He didn’t want to say no. Admitting as much would give the advantage to her.

“The Lookout Inn,” he said abruptly. “It’s a nice place. With this being out of season, you shouldn’t have any trouble getting a room.”

“Thank you,” she said. She didn’t care if she had a nice place. Eleven years of longing had coalesced into one driving need: to see Gabriel. “Then you can expect me tomorrow.”

“Doesn’t sound like we have any choice,” he said.

She looked at her phone suspiciously and saw that her guess had been right; he’d ended the call.

Would he still email the photos? Her heart drummed. Please, oh, please.

With a shaky hand, she dialed Craig’s number. She’d promised to let him know once she’d talked to Gabriel and what her plans were.

Dana desperately did not want him to insist on coming to Lookout, too. She had no desire to see him, but it was more than that. He had gone on with his life so quickly. He had two other children. Losing his son? Hardly a blip in his life.