Joan Kilby - Child of Their Vows

“She signed me up for art lessons when I was ten,” Randall said. “And she buys me any materials I want.”

“That’s wonderful. What else do you like to do?”

“As Dad said, I play piano and chess and belong to the debating society. Oh, and I’ve recently built my own Web site so I can attract chess players from other countries.”

“What about friends? Do you hang out with a gang of kids from your school?”

“Not really,” Randall admitted, pinching the crease in his pants. “I have a couple of friends in the chess club. But Mom gets migraines and can’t handle having a bunch of noisy boys around. Not that I blame her,” he said hastily. “Teenage boys can be very rowdy.”

Randall Tipton wouldn’t know “rowdy” if he stepped in it, Max mused, then chastised himself for the uncharitable thoughts he was having toward Marcus and Audrey Tipton. They’d raised a well-behaved, polite young man who was a credit to his parents. And Randall seemed to be happy enough.

“Do you have a dog or a cat?” Max asked.

“No, sir. Dad’s allergic to pet fur. Actually, it’s not the fur but the mites that live in the fur. I’m allowed to keep tropical fish, but they don’t interact much with people. Do you have pets?”

Max almost didn’t like to say. “Two dogs and some chickens.”

A wistful gleam appeared in Randall’s eyes. “My chess friend in Alaska has a husky. He scanned the dog’s photo and e-mailed it to me.”

“Well, Randall—” Max glanced at his watch “—I have to catch a plane back to Seattle in an hour. I’d better go.” He’d deliberately ensured that his time here would be limited, just in case the meeting didn’t work out. Now he wished he’d planned to stay the weekend. Maybe he and the boy could have gone horseback riding or fishing.

“I’ve enjoyed meeting you very much, sir,” Randall said, rising.

“You don’t have to call me sir.”

“What should I call you, then?”

Max hesitated. He could hardly ask the boy to call him Dad; he already had a dad. “Max. Max will do just fine.”

Randall walked him to the door. “Say goodbye to your folks for me,” Max said, unwilling to share the final moments with his son with the Tiptons.

Randall stuck out his hand. Max took it, hesitated a second, then pulled the boy into a hug. The tightness in his chest seemed to expand until he found breathing difficult. “Take care.”

They separated awkwardly, and Randall stared fixedly at his polished shoes. “W-will I see you again?”

Max had told himself this would be a one-off deal. More to the point, that was what he’d told Kelly. But how could he say no to his kid? Randall needed…something from him, some spark in his existence. And Max…well, Max needed to know that his son was okay. On the surface it certainly appeared that way. The boy had no material wants, he had parents who loved him and encouraged his interests, but Max sensed an underlying loneliness. He knew what it was to be an only child. “Lonely” was the one thing Max had never wanted for his children. It was the reason he’d had so many, and the reason he wanted still more.

Randall needed siblings. Max could give them to him.

“Would you like to visit my home and meet Kelly and your half sisters?” The words were out almost before he knew he was speaking, but he didn’t regret them, not when he saw Randall’s eyes light up.

“Oh, boy! Could I? When? I’ll go ask Mom and Dad right now.”

His heart telling him he’d done the right thing, Max followed his son back inside the house.

“YOU WHAT!” Kelly stared at Max. She was still coming to grips with the fact that he’d gone to Wyoming against her wishes.

Max sighed through gritted teeth and took the position that offense was the best form of defense. “I invited Randall to spend his summer vacation with us. Is that so hard to understand?”

“What’s hard to understand is why you think I would agree,” Kelly said, pacing the bedroom. “I told you I don’t want anything to do with this kid.”

Seated on the edge of the bed, Max followed her with his gaze. “I know I should have asked you first, but if you’d seen that boy you would have done the same thing. He lives with an elderly father and a wheelchair-bound mother. They’re nice people and they’re doing their best, but Randall has few friends. He’s lonely. If he doesn’t come to us he’ll spend the summer in his room in front of the computer.”

“My heart is breaking.”

“Kelly, this sarcastic attitude isn’t like you. If you only met him—”

“I don’t want to meet him. What about me and the girls? Or don’t you care about us anymore?” She stopped in front of the closet and took out her jacket.

“Of course I care. What are you doing?”

She ignored his question. “Having secret children and illicit love affairs isn’t like the man I thought I married.” Shrugging into her jacket, she stopped in front of him. “I thought I knew you. Now I realize I don’t know you at all.”

“Don’t get sidetracked. We’re talking about Randall. Please, Kel, give yourself time to get used to the idea.”

“Are you serious? School gets out in a month. I’d need a lifetime to get used to this. Summer has always been family time.”

“Randall is family, Kelly, whether you like it or not.” He paused. “Where are you going?”

Kelly slipped her feet into a pair of loafers. “Gran’s house.”

“Can’t we talk about this?”

“I’m too angry and upset to talk. I’ll see you later. Maybe.”

WHEN KELLY GOT TO GRAN’S house she was surprised to see both her sisters’ cars parked out front. She knocked once and let herself in the front door.

“Hello? Anybody home?” Lights burned in the living room to her left and she heard her sisters’ voices.

“Is that you, Kel?” Erin, her eldest sister, called. “We’re in here.”

Kelly dropped her purse on the hall table and went through to the living room of the big Victorian house where Kelly and her sisters had grown up after her parents were killed in a car crash. Her younger sister, Geena, held her sleeping baby across her lap, and Erin’s toddler was curled up in a portable cot Gran kept around for her great-grandchildren’s frequent visits.

“You guys having a party without me…?” Kelly began, then stopped short at the sight of Gran, seated in her rocker with one leg propped up on a stool and an ice pack over her ankle.

“What happened?” Kelly demanded, hurrying across the room to her grandmother’s side. “Are you all right, Gran?”

“Nothing serious. I just twisted my ankle while I was on my power walk this evening,” Gran said, adjusting the ice pack.

“The ankle’s badly swollen,” Erin elaborated, pushing back her long blond hair. “I came by to drop off some homemade strawberry jam and found her crawling on her hands and knees.”

“It’s nothing,” Gran insisted fretfully. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’m taking you to see Ben first thing in the morning,” Geena said, referring to her husband, a local G.P. One hand rested lightly on little Sonja’s rounded diaper-clad bottom. “I’d have brought him with me tonight, but he’s doing an emergency appendectomy.”

“You should have called me,” Kelly scolded her Gran. She lifted the ice pack and winced at the swollen mottled skin. “Hang on and I’ll get an Ace bandage from the first-aid kit in my car.”

When she got back inside, Erin was administering anti-inflammatory tablets to the resistant septuagenarian. Kelly pulled up a stool before Gran’s chair and expertly wrapped the elderly woman’s ankle in a neat herringbone pattern.