Joan Kilby - Child of Their Vows

“An accident,” Max repeated. “Was Randall—” He broke off. Randall was fine. Even if he’d been in the car, he’d clearly survived intact.

“Randall was strapped into his booster seat in the back when the other car crossed the white line and hit the front of my wife’s car. He had a few minor cuts, nothing serious.”

“I’m sorry—about Audrey, that is. Dealing with the physical and emotional aftermath of a serious injury plus taking care of a toddler must not have been easy.”

“We managed,” Marcus said simply. “That’s what you do when you’re a family.”

Max nodded. If there was an implied reproach he accepted it.

Marcus turned to Randall. “Son, could you help your mother with the tray, please?”

“Sure, Dad.” Randall immediately got up and left the room.

Son. Dad. Max was reminded again that he was an outsider. No rights and only limited privileges.

Now that the boy was out of hearing, Marcus became serious. “We adopted Randall because we wanted to give a home to a baby whose parents couldn’t care for him. Naturally, Audrey and I were concerned when after all these years he decided to contact his biological parents.”

Max had a sudden sympathy for Marcus and Audrey; watching their son discover his biological father couldn’t be easy for them.

“If my circumstances had been different when he was conceived…” Max spread his hands in the effort to explain. “I would have kept him. Maybe I should have tried harder to, but I couldn’t—” He broke off. Woulda, shoulda, coulda. Pretty lame.

Marcus waved away Max’s apologetic floundering. “All I meant was, Randall’s been our whole life. For Audrey, especially. And Randall has been looking forward to meeting you so very much. His expectations are high and I’d hate to see him hurt. He’s already been disappointed by his biological mother.”

“The last thing I want is for any of us to get hurt,” Max said quietly. After a pause, he asked, “What happened when he contacted Lanni?”

Marcus might have answered, but at that moment, Audrey wheeled into the room, followed by Randall bearing a tray laden with steaming cups and a plate of homemade banana bread. “Coffee’s ready.”

While Audrey served the cake, Randall handed around the coffee, impressing Max with his manners. Marcus and Audrey had done a good job with Randall on that score, at least.

“Would you like to see some of Randall’s baby pictures?” Audrey said to Max.

“I’d like that very much. Thank you.”

Flipping through early photos of Randall was an eerie experience. Aside from his hair coloring, he looked very much like Max had as a baby and he bore a family resemblance to all his daughters, especially Robyn. As he paged through Randall’s first smile, first step, first day of school, Max couldn’t help but be jealous of Marcus and Audrey for witnessing the milestones in his son’s young life.

“He’s obviously been raised in a loving home,” Max said, handing the photo album back. “I’m grateful…if that doesn’t sound presumptuous.”

“Thank you,” Audrey said. “It doesn’t sound presumptuous at all.” She glanced at her husband. “Well?”

Marcus nodded. “We’ll leave you two now so you can get better acquainted.”

Max watched them go, then turned to Randall. “They’re nice people. They love you very much. And despite all that care and attention, they’ve managed to raise you unspoiled. You’re lucky. I’m lucky.”

Randall frowned. “Why are you lucky?”

Max smiled wryly. “That you’ve turned out so well lessens my guilt.”

“I don’t blame you for having me adopted out,” Randall said earnestly. “I don’t know why you gave me up, but you must have had good reasons.”

“Your mother and I were too young to marry. Her parents wouldn’t allow it.” Not that he’d ever actually suggested it. To Max, that whole summer seemed like a bad dream. “Your father told me you contacted Lanni.”

Randall’s gaze dropped to the toes of his polished leather shoes. “She didn’t want to meet me. She just got married last year and she’s going to have a baby. She never told her husband about me and doesn’t want to. She said I would make her life too complicated.”

Max knew he shouldn’t judge, but he could imagine Lanni saying something like that. His heart ached for the boy. “I’m sorry.”

Randall shrugged. “Do you have other children?”

“My wife, Kelly, and I have four daughters.”

“Four kids! Wow. I’ve always wished I had brothers and sisters. I mean, I wished I had a brother, but sisters would be okay—” He broke off, abashed. “Not that I expect you’d want me to meet them or anything.”

Max shifted uncomfortably. “I would, but…to tell you the truth, Kelly wasn’t too happy about me coming here.”

“I’m sorry if I caused you trouble.”

“Don’t be.” Max leaned over and squeezed Randall’s forearm. “I wouldn’t have missed this meeting for the world. I’m only sorry it didn’t take place years ago.”

“Did you…did you ever think of looking for me?”

The naked yearning in his voice dredged up a barge-load of guilt and regret in Max. The reasons he’d never gone looking for Randall had more to do with Kelly and Lanni than with the boy, but if he said that, wouldn’t he be giving Randall the impression he wasn’t important?

“I…I didn’t want to disrupt your life.”

“Oh. Okay.” His dispassionate acceptance of the explanation made Max feel even worse. “How old are your kids?”

“Robyn’s twelve, Beth’s ten and the twins, Tammy and Tina, are four years old.” Max pulled out his wallet and extracted a photo. “This was taken a year ago, but you get the idea.”

Randall studied the picture. “You must have gotten married quite soon after…after you knew my biological mother.”

“Yes.”

“Were you in love with my mother?”

“I was very young. We were both very young. I don’t think I knew what love was.” Liar. He’d known then that he loved Kelly. But he had to give this kid something. “Lanni was fun loving and adventurous. I liked her a lot.”

Randall handed back the photo. “What do you do? I mean, for work?”

“I’m an architect. I design houses.”

“Wow. That’s interesting. I like to draw. Sometimes I think I’d like to be an artist when I grow up. Would you like to see my sketchbook?”

Randall ran off to get his sketchbook and Max leaned against the couch and shut his eyes. He’d been naive to think Randall wouldn’t want answers to difficult questions. Naive to think he could visit and go away again untouched. Randall was no longer just a face in a photograph or a product of his imagination. He was a boy with hopes and dreams, and Max himself was one of Randall’s hopes and dreams. Marcus was right; Randall had expectations. The question was, could Max fulfill them?

And what were Max’s expectations? He’d been so fired up to meet Randall, he hadn’t thought through the consequences of an ongoing relationship, if there was to be one. He’d been focused on Kelly and overcoming her objections, instead of thinking about how he would incorporate a son into his life.

Randall returned and placed a well-used sketchbook in Max’s lap. Max thumbed through meticulously executed pen-and-ink drawings of old barns, a mare and foal, a jackdaw on a pine branch. The boy had an eye for detail and a facility with his pen, although in Max’s opinion the pictures were too careful to be really good. Like the drawings of a child afraid to color outside the lines, they lacked individuality.

“You show a great deal of promise,” Max said, and Randall flushed beneath his freckles. “You’re fortunate Audrey is interested in art. I’m sure she’s very encouraging.”