Anna Adams - Another Woman's Son

After searching for a tissue, Isabel continued, “And told Faith I never wanted to see her again, but I didn’t want them dead. Do you?”

“I’m not sure.” He wasn’t sure about anything. Faith had left a note before she’d driven away with Will. She’d claimed Will had turned to her for comfort because Isabel had rejected him. If not for Isabel, they’d never have grown close enough to fall in love.

Even if that was true, was their adultery really Isabel’s fault? Shouldn’t Will have fought for his marriage? Ben had known he and Faith had problems, but he’d never considered divorce.

Shutting Isabel’s door, he walked along the side of the car. His best friend had made love with his wife and created the baby who slept in a crib down the hall.

And Isabel had known. With a few words, she could take his son for her family. He imagined himself in her place, watching her mother fall apart, her father walk around like a monolith without emotion. And Tony could make them both better.

How could he trust her? Until he knew what she was going to do, he couldn’t let her out of his sight.

Dear Reader,

Right now, in my world, family is a fragile thing. Ironically, I’ve just finished a story with the same theme, Another Woman’s Son.

The relationships in this novel are complex. Ben Jordan and Isabel Barker both knew they had problems in their marriages, but they had no idea they’d lost so much until all they had left was the small boy who binds them together. In the end, they discover that, along with the boy, they have a mutual talent to love and forgive and create a future.

As I wrote this book, I began to realize that loving and forgiving are the best gifts we can give our families, no matter how we grow or fracture or adapt. If a moment comes that requires everything we have to offer, love and forgiveness are good places to start.

I hope you’ll enjoy this story that remains with me still. I’d love to hear from you. E-mail me at anna@annaadams.net.

Best wishes,

Anna Adams

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To the three I lost last week:

Edith Taylor Adams

I have many mothers, but you were the one who loved

me out of choice, from the day I met you. Thank you for

my husband and my “brothers,” for the you in Sarah’s hands

and Colin’s smart mouth and Jen’s ambition and Stevie’s

willingness to always try something new. The plan still goes—if

this thing with Steve doesn’t work out, you and I are always

Ma and daughter. I love you.

Aunt Daisy

You were the sophisticate in our family. You plucked your

eyebrows and indulged in a bit of the grape, and I hear your

smoky laughter right now. I loved your stories so much, the

anticipation was more than half the fun. In fact, you were a

lot of the fun in my childhood. I’m missing you so.

Miranda

I wish I’d known you better. I wish you hadn’t gone.

May peace find you and surround you,

and may you know you are beloved.

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EPILOGUE

ISABEL BARKER LIFTED her face and blinked hard at the silver skeleton and black waterproof cloth of her umbrella. As long as she didn’t let the tears fall, she wasn’t crying.

She was a fraud. A widow who wanted to throw herself on her husband’s coffin, kicking and screaming—with rage. Each snowflake that smacked her umbrella was a drumbeat reiterating one word in her head.

Cheat. Cheat. Cheat.

She stared at the cheater’s casket. Snow decorated the improbably polished mahogany with white lace and mixed with the tears of the real mourners who clustered around Will’s open grave.

She wanted to scream the truth. Will had cheated on her. With her sister. Her sister, damn him—and damn Faith, too.

He and Faith had made a baby, despite the fact he’d always told Isabel he wasn’t ready for children. Faith and Will had been trying to run away with eighteen-month-old Tony the afternoon they’d died in a car crash. It was the only explanation for the suitcases the police had found in the wreckage. Tony, miraculously safe in his car seat, couldn’t explain.

Isabel turned her face away from Will’s coffin, grateful that her nephew had survived. She couldn’t look at her parents or at Ben Jordan— Faith’s husband. Ben had also been Will’s best friend. And Isabel’s, too.

She hadn’t looked at her family this morning when she’d seethed and mourned at her sister’s service. Three months ago, after a day in the park with Tony, Isabel had asked Will again if he was ready for a child of their own. She’d tried to explain how much she longed for their baby. Instead of his usual “I’m too busy” excuses, he’d taken a deep breath and confessed to his affair with Faith.

Isabel had stared, disbelieving as the words flew like weapons. She’d begged him to say he was lying. He had promised he’d be faithful after an earlier affair at a time when their marriage had been young and troubled. She’d forgiven him then. He’d promised, after all.

And Faith—she’d never betray her own sister. Isabel lowered her head and pulled her umbrella closer to shut out the world. Fickle, beautiful, lucky Faith would never steal her little sister’s husband and then pass off his child as her own and Ben’s. She’d never ask Isabel to be godmother to her own husband’s out-of-wedlock son. Faith had flaws, but she wasn’t a monster.

A small groan escaped Isabel’s lips. Ben leaned toward her, his shoes creaking in the early January cold. She felt guilty and eased away from him. Three months ago, she’d left town without telling Ben what Will had told her. If he’d done the same, she wasn’t sure she could forgive him.

The minister lifted his hands. “Please bow your heads for a blessing.” He hadn’t strained himself with an extensive eulogy. Had the snow put him off? Or maybe Will, in a fit of regret, had confided in him, and he couldn’t do an adulterous man justice.

Isabel stared at her black pointy-toed shoes and refused to pray. She’d abandoned Ben because she’d made herself a fool for Will, and she couldn’t find courage or the words to admit how gullible and stupid she’d been. How straight-to-the-bone her husband’s infidelity cut her even now.

They’d married straight out of college, and she’d worked as a copywriter for an advertising agency while Will became known for the innovative textiles he’d manufactured. After two years of phenomenal success, he’d decided he didn’t want anyone to think his wife had to work. Isabel’s job ruined his image as a provider and a philanthropist.

From the moment she’d resigned, the power balance between them had shifted. Bored stiff in her empty home, she’d thrown herself into any volunteer opportunity.

Will had approved of all efforts that got their names in the paper, but he’d badgered her for time she should have devoted to him. When she’d said she might be a coat on a hook that he took down the second he came home in the evening, he’d reflected on that first affair, said she’d driven him to find someone who loved him the way she’d promised to—for better, for worse.