Mixed Blessings

“What’s his wife like?”

“He’s widowed.” Other than that fact, he hadn’t alluded even once to his wife. Marie tried to rub away her headache and wanted to pretend nothing had happened. “Let’s get you ready for bed. You know, I didn’t see Brent when I came in. I wanted to thank him for helping you.”

“I thanked him.”

Marie stopped and gave her sister a searching look. “Oh? That sounds interesting.”

Sandy grinned. “We thought so.”

“What are you telling me?”

“He asked me out to lunch after church. We’re going on a picnic. He said he’s tired of pretending to be my buddy. His kiss backed up that claim, too.”

“Wonderful!” Marie gave her a hug. “What will you wear?”

They chattered about that issue as Marie helped Sandy transfer from her wheelchair to bed. She’d learned all of the necessary skills to take care of Sandy since she’d hurt her back in a freak surfing accident. With the passage of time and rehabilitation, Sandy had regained most of the use of her arms. She needed to build up more muscle strength so she could move herself independently, but she was nearly to the point of being able to care for herself with a minimum of help.

Marie changed and crawled into the other bed in the same room. As she curled up under the blankets, she tried to block the image of a large, mahogany-haired man reaching for Ricky.

You take care of him until I can. Until I can… His words kept echoing in her mind. Marie shuddered and dragged the covers up higher.

She sensed Peter Hallock dearly loved children. The protective urge he’d shown at the outset with Luke now extended toward Ricky, too. What had he meant, the Hallocks are never losing another child? Had there been a kidnapping? A murder? Was Luke safe? Tired and worried as she felt, Marie didn’t sleep well.

Peter’s nerves stretched taut. Darlene took their baby when she left him; yesterday, as Marie left with Ricky, the landslide of feelings and memories nearly buried Peter. Peter tried to book a flight to Orange County last night, but the galling fact that John Wayne airport closed at ten each night foiled his plan. This morning’s whole flight down seemed to go in slow motion, and Peter got unaccountably impatient with the rental agency when his car wasn’t ready as promised.

He swerved and focused his attention on the road again. Marie had better be an easygoing hostess, because he was dropping in without warning. If he called again, he’d only put his foot in his mouth. He even missed the freeway turnoff to her place and needed to backtrack.

Marie lived in an older tract neighborhood where it looked like an unimaginative architect had taken a pair of cookie cutters to design only two floor plans. Places of this vintage invariably needed upkeep, but most carried the air of being well-tended.

Peter pulled up to the curb and gave the pink, purple and white flowers edging her yard an assessing look. The mailbox out in front of her house bore a shiny gold icthus. Instead of steps, a wooden ramp led to the front door. Painted along the widest side beam was a verse he recognized. “As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.” Clearly, yesterday’s lunchtime prayer wasn’t a mere ritual. Marie lived her faith. Good thing she does. Only God will be able to solve this for us.

He swept Luke out of the car seat, strode up the ramp and rang the doorbell.

Tired of being confined by the flight and his car seat, Luke wiggled. “Want down.”

“Okay.” Peter set him on the porch, and he immediately scampered off and grabbed for a marble-blue plastic ball that rested against the garage.

A young woman in a wheelchair opened the door. Her beaming smile and “Hi!” took Peter off guard. So did the sight of Marie, barefoot, in a pair of walking shorts and a cherry-red T-shirt. Oblivious to his arrival, she and Ricky screeched and giggled as she chased him into the corner with the hose attachment of a noisy vacuum cleaner. Peter’s uneasiness evaporated.

“Can I help you?”

He refocused on the woman in the wheelchair. She had to be Marie’s sister. Her wheelchair was one of the slick customized jobs, cueing him in to the fact that the injury to which Marie had alluded was significant and permanent. He cleared his throat. “I’m Peter Hallock. You must be Sandy.”

She’d already cocked her head and gazed at him suspiciously. The moment he confirmed his identity, her face grew wary. “I don’t think you should have come here, Mr. Hallock. Ricky is ours.”

He gave no reply. Marie switched off the vacuum. Though Ricky continued to shriek with glee, Peter noted Marie’s laughter died the moment she spied him. Her eyes narrowed and she studied him for a second before she quickly pivoted, as if to block his access to the little boy. Clearly, this mother was protecting her young. Peter wanted to protest—but in that moment, he realized he’d managed to scare her. He’d instilled in her the selfsame sickening fear he lived with—that someone was going to harm or take away a very precious child. The thought appalled him.

Marie patted her son on the backside. “Go to your room. Put away Noah and the animals. Mommy will come check on you in a minute.” She waited until Ricky obeyed and was safely out of sight before she walked to the door. “I’ll take care of this, Sandy.”

Her sister didn’t budge. She kept her chair in place as a barrier and looked like a bulldog. “You don’t have to talk to him.”

“I know I don’t.” Marie glanced over her shoulder, as if to reassure herself Ricky was safely out of reach, then turned back toward him. “Mr. Hallock, I’ll be hiring an attorney on Monday. You’ll be contacted thereafter. Do you have a lawyer yet?”

“I was hoping we could share an attorney.”

She gave him an incredulous look.

Sandy scoffed, “There’s a great idea. I can already see who would end up the victor.”

Marie put her hand on her sister’s shoulder. Was it a move to silence her, or to protect and side with her? “If you wait at the foot of the ramp, Mr. Hallock, I’ll get you a few pictures of Ricky.”

Peter noticed she still didn’t look him in the eye, and that bothered him. Sandy’s bitter words took him off guard, too. Still, he had no right to complain. He refocused his attention. “Luke, come back here!”

“Luke!” Marie’s face transformed at once. She scrambled past her sister and plowed down the ramp. She swung Luke in a big circle, then cuddled him close. Head tilted so she could rub her cheek in Luke’s soft hair and relish every last inch of contact, she turned her gaze to Peter. “You brought him!”

Peter felt a jumble of emotions. A stab of jealousy pierced him. Then, too, anger hit. How dare she think he’d leave Luke behind? Ah, but the wariness on her face had been replaced by sheer joy.

Something tugged on his shirt. Sandy laughed. “Hey, would you mind moving? That’s my nephew down there.”

Peter stepped aside. As Sandy rolled over the threshold, Marie brought Luke up the ramp. “Lookie, Luke! It’s Auntie Sandy!”

Luke grabbed fistfuls of Marie’s shirt and buried his face in her shoulder. Peter watched how Marie held him a bit more possessively. “It’s okay, punkin.” She smiled at Sandy. “He’s shy.”

“Compared to Ricky,” Sandy said, “anyone is shy.”

Peter felt relieved that they accepted Luke just as he was.

“Can I come out?” Ricky’s shout from the bedroom made them all laugh again.

The second Marie called her permission, Ricky rocketed out of his room and onto the porch. Peter caught him and held him tight. In that moment, every bit of doubt he’d held about coming south disappeared. He’d done the right thing.

“It’s getting kinda crowded,” Sandy said. “This porch isn’t made for family reunions.”

They went into the house and the joy suddenly dissipated, only to be replaced with awkwardness. For a brief pause, no one said a thing. Then, they all started to speak. “We didn’t—”

“I know—”

Marie and Peter both went silent as Sandy finished her statement. “Those kids look—” she hesitated as she looked from Peter to Marie, then finished “—like very good boys.”

Ricky poked himself on the chest a few times directly over a badge-shaped patch. “I’m a fireman!”

“You don’t got a hat,” Luke countered.

“I gots two.” Ricky wiggled, so Peter set him down. Luke followed suit, and they scrambled out of the room. Peter looked back at Marie and cleared his throat. “After you left, I got mad. Not at you—at Melway General. I called my lawyer. I’d like to discuss what he said.”

Sandy piped up, “How ’bout if I take the boys for a walk?”

Marie’s shoulders melted with obvious relief. “That would be great! Thanks.”

Ricky, wearing a plastic fire helmet, came back into the room. Luke trailed along behind him. Instead of a hat, he sported a toy tool belt. Peter wasn’t sure if Sandy could handle one kid, let alone two, but how could he diplomatically ask? He watched as Luke tentatively ran his hand over a wheel of her chair. Sandy didn’t reach for him. Instead, she leaned a bit closer and asked in a quiet, sweet voice, “I’m going to take Ricky to the park. He rides in my special chair with me. We’ll take a bag with juice and cookies. Do you want to come?”

Luke shook his head. Peter was secretly glad he did. Ricky grabbed a lumpy canvas bag from a nearby shelf. As he dragged it over, one of the straps caught Sandy’s foot and pulled it off her wheelchair’s footrest. “Hey, buster! No fishing in these waters.”

Ricky untangled the webbed strap, then hooked the bag over the handles of Sandy’s chair. His intense concentration struck Peter as both adorable and a sign of his intelligence.

Sandy tried to use her hands to tug her pant leg so she could lift her foot, but her shoe got stuck between the footrests. Peter knelt and slipped Sandy’s foot back in place. “Are you always this fun to be with?”

“Not by a long shot. Four months ago, I strongly contemplated suicide. Marie managed to keep me patched together and dragged me to church until I got my head screwed on straight. I decided landing in a wheelchair was a disaster, but it wasn’t the worst thing that ever happened. If anything, it made me take stock of my life and change things for the better. Marie made me face things and helped me get through. She’s got a knack for doing that.”

“You sisters are quite a twosome.”

“She’s the loyal one. I’m the deserter. After all, I’m leaving her with you right now.” Sandy straightened her clothes and looked at him intently. “Marie would eat ground glass before she ever left me with a guy who wanted my kid.”

Peter looked up at her somberly. “I’d never intentionally hurt either of them.”

“I know. Before I ever let Marie go, I called and had one of Jack’s friends on the force run a sheet on you. You came out totally clean.”

“Sandy!” Marie gasped.

“Hey, you can’t blame me! This guy could’ve been dangerous. I wasn’t willing to risk you or Ricky.” The little boy scrambled up onto Sandy’s lap. She dipped her head and rubbed her nose to his in an Eskimo kiss. “We’ll be back soon. Behave yourselves.” She set her wheelchair into motion.

As it rolled down the ramp, Ricky started making fire-engine siren sounds.

Peter turned to Marie and cocked a brow. “So she ran a check on me.”

“You had your security guard search my car and purse!”

“True.” He couldn’t quell a grin at her outrage. “Are we even?”

Marie shook her head adamantly. “Nothing, but nothing, is as bad as a purse search! Half of my life is in that bag!”

“I see…” he mused. He chuckled and couldn’t resist. “I think you lied about your height on the driver’s license. You’re at least two inches—”

She wheeled around. “I didn’t, but you looked!”

“Nope. Honest, I didn’t. I was tempted, but I didn’t. It was a stupid way of me trying to break the tension.” He forked his fingers through his hair. “This is all so unbelievable.”

The fire in her eyes went out and compassion replaced it. Quietly, she asked, “Would you and Luke care for some juice? Water?”

“Juice for him, please. Do you have any coffee?”

“I’m out of it right now. Sorry.”

“Okay. Juice will do.” He hefted Luke and ventured, “I’ll bet this little guy would rest if we laid him down. I gave him a decongestant so his ears would clear on the plane. It makes him sleepy, but he’s getting over another ear infection, so I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“Poor guy. Let’s tuck him into Ricky’s bed.” They coaxed Luke out of the tool belt and laid him down. As they left the bedroom, Marie said, “I’ve heard ear infections are brutal.”

“He’s had them constantly since birth. Hasn’t Ricky?”

She shook her head. “No, breastfed babies rarely get them.”

It took every shred of discipline to keep from zeroing in on her T-shirt. “You nursed my son?”

“My son. Or at least I thought he was.” She folded her arms across her chest and her cheeks turned the same cherry-red as her shirt. “Didn’t your wife want to?”

“My wife died as a result of a car accident. The doctors at Melway General delivered our child as a last-ditch effort.”

Marie gave him a startled look. “That’s why you were so adamant about not letting me go! I was pretty surprised.”

He nodded. “Probably. Some wounds don’t heal very easily.” His gaze slid over her face. “Your reaction to the guns yesterday was probably magnified because of how your husband died.”

“We’ve both stumbled onto each other’s vulnerabilities, haven’t we?”

“Let’s make allowances for that and try to start over.”

She nodded hesitantly.

“So tell me why Ricky is crazy about firefighters when your husband was a cop.”

“Sandy mail-ordered a costume and the truck for Christmas. It’s grown into a full-blown fascination. I bought a bunch of patches that look like badges and added them to his shirts just to save my sanity.”

They walked into the kitchen. Peter passed the round oak table and noted a dinky acrylic holder full of tiny, colorful paper strips. A pale blue one lay on the table. Lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the earth. That Bible promise seemed particularly apropos. Ever since Marie’s revelation, he felt like he stood teetering on the edge of the safe, happy world he’d built for himself and his son. He needed to be reminded the Lord was with him—with them—in the midst of this earth-shattering mess.

“You mentioned consulting an attorney.” Marie took two green striped glasses from the cupboard. “So what happens next?”

“So far, we’re basing everything on simple blood type and deductive reasoning. We’ll undoubtedly have to have DNA testing done to confirm the boys were swapped. We could go the rapid route and have an answer back in a couple of days, but since things will get sticky, I’d rather spare the boys a second blood draw and have all of the specimens go through the full battery.”

“It sounds to me like you still aren’t convinced there was a switch.”

Peter frowned. “On the contrary. As far as I’m concerned, doing the lab work is a mere formality. I always thought Luke looked like my wife until you came along, Marie. Now I know he has to be yours. The similarity is stunning—just like the match between Ricky and me. Even a fool could plainly see whose child is whose.”

“But everyone else will demand proof.”

He nodded. “This week we’ll all have to get to a lab, but for the sake of streamlining things, I’m going to assume our suspicions are a confirmed fact.”

“Okay.” Her hand shook as she poured the orange juice. “I’ll have the doctor call in an order to the lab. Ricky and I can go after work on Monday.”

Peter had thought about having them all go in and getting the blood drawn at a clinic today, but he could see that wouldn’t be wise. He’d rattled her badly enough yesterday, and he still had something on the agenda that meant more to him at the present. He cleared his throat.

“Did you need something?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. I want to spend the weekend. I went crazy without Ricky last night.”

Marie gave him a stricken look. “You can’t get possessive like that, Peter.”

“He’s my son, Marie.”

“And Luke is my son.” Marie could see the strain in his eyes. She drew in a deep breath to steady her nerves and whispered a quick prayer for wisdom. She wanted her voice to stay strong, even though everything inside quivered like pudding. Quickly, before her words would quaver, she shoved his glass at him. “It’s practically tearing me apart, but I’m trying hard not to make any demands and to be scrupulously fair.”

“I think you ought to come live with me.”

Chapter Four

Her own glass slipped from her fingers and shattered on the floor. Marie ignored it as she gaped at him.

“Did you cut yourself?” Peter carefully walked on the clean spots between the glass and juice. He wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her onto the counter.

She practically shrieked, “Live with you?”

“Yes. You’re a mess. Swing around here and put your feet in the sink so you can rinse the juice off of your legs and feet.”

Stunned, Marie sat there and looked at him as if he’d suddenly sprouted cloven hooves. “I can’t live with you!”

“Marie, take care of your legs, then we’ll see to the other issues. Where’s your trash?”

She mutely pointed at a cabinet. Turning around, Marie followed his suggestion and put her feet in the sink. Rinsing off took no time at all, but she sat on the counter and stared at the water as it cascaded over her feet. Clearly, Peter Hallock wasn’t going to be a take-things-slowly kind of man. He blazed his own path; she carefully considered and weighed her options. That personality difference wasn’t going to make coping with the situation any easier. Lord, this would be a great time for a miracle. If You’re not dispensing those, then that wisdom I just requested? Please double it and add on a side order of patience!

“Are you okay?”

His concern jarred Marie out of her prayer. She turned off the water. “I’m fine. Please hand me a towel.”

He tossed a dishcloth to her. “There you go.” Gingerly, he picked up large shards of glass and put them in the trash, then sopped up most of the remainder of the mess with a few paper towels. “Your floor is going to be sticky.”

“I planned to mop it today, anyway.”

“I’ll mop it.”

“No, thank you.” His offer surprised her. “I’ll sponge it for now and take care of it after Ricky goes down for his nap. He’ll slip on a wet floor.”

“I hoped we could use that quiet time to talk through some plans.”

Marie gave him a stern look. “Peter, I don’t know exactly what you have in mind, but I’m not ready to pull up stakes and move. I have a steady job and, though it may not compare in any way to your mansion, this is my home. I have ties to the community, and stability is important to me. It’s vital in a small child’s life, and I’d be a fool to give all of that up because you snap your fingers.”

“I’m not asking for myself. I’m asking because I firmly believe it’s in the boys’ best interests.”

Marie took a deep breath in a vain attempt to settle her nerves. The man was as calming as a stick of lit dynamite.

“If your concern is for Sandy, let me assure you, she’d be welcome. My home is big enough, and since it’s a single story, she’d have full access to the whole place. Think of it. You could stop working and spend all day with the boys. You’d have more time to work with Sandy, too.”

Marie twisted sideways. She concentrated on rubbing her feet dry and tried to block out the temptation of his offer. She shook her head and whispered, “We can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Can’t we come up with another option? Maybe have a weekend together, then swap kids for the next weekend or something?”

“That’s too disruptive and awkward.” Several glass shards clinked as he dropped them into the trash. He turned and gave her a level gaze. “You’re the one who just pointed out how important stability is.”

“It’s morally wrong, Peter.”

“Your sister will be there! Isn’t that enough?”

“We’re total strangers!”

“It wouldn’t take long for that problem to be resolved.”

“Stop it. Just stop!” She wanted to turn back the hands of time and make it so she’d have never discovered the baby swap. But then I’d never have seen Luke….

“We can’t just sit around and do nothing, Marie.”

“There isn’t any big hurry,” she countered.

“If you really like working outside the house, Anne can handle the boys. All of my sisters work, Marie. If you enjoy having a job, we’ll find something up there that you like.”

“You’re trying to tempt me, and you’ve tossed in everything a woman might hope for, but, Peter, it’s still wrong. I can’t go against my moral code. It’s a terrible message for the boys, and we still don’t know how well they—or we—will get along. I’d be a fool to accept this cockamamie plan.”

Peter had finished up cleaning the floor. He planted his hands on the counter on either side of her. His eyes searched hers for a long count. “You’re going to have to work with me. What is it you want, Marie?”

Nervously crushing the dishcloth into a ball, she blurted out, “I want the nightmares to stop!”

Peter took the dishcloth from her and set it off to the side. He slid his hand over hers. “Tired of it all?”

She bit her lip and nodded. Blinking madly, she pleaded, “Don’t get me started crying. I can’t do that.”

“But, Marie, in less than two years you’ve suffered not one, but three staggering blows. Think about it. You’ve lost your husband, your sister got injured and became totally dependent on you and you’ve discovered your son isn’t yours. How are you supposed to cope? I think you’re more than entitled to sob your guts out.”

She averted her face. “It upsets Ricky and Sandy too much,” she whispered thickly. “I need to be strong for them.”

Peter gently tilted her face and forced her to look back at him. In a low, insistent tone, he asked, “But, Marie, who’s strong for you?”

Chapter Five

The obnoxiously loud buzzer on the dryer sounded. Startled, Marie jumped. “I have to get that.”

His hands immediately went to her waist. He gently squeezed, then pulled her to the edge of the counter and lifted her down. She shivered from the contact—or was it from the emotions shimmering just below the surface that he’d almost bared? He didn’t know. Clearly, Marie was a woman of great depth, but she guarded her heart just as closely as she guarded her child.

“You do too much,” Peter decided aloud a few minutes later as he watched her sit on the couch and fold clothes. The vacuum cleaner still rested in the corner, and a grocery list lay beneath a toy car on the coffee table.

“I do what every other mother does. I’m not complaining.”

His hands itched to pull away the laundry basket and make her stop taming the jumbled clothes into neatly folded squares. The intense concentration she aimed at the simple task seemed ridiculous—but then he realized she was trying to get lost in the rhythm of a familiar task so her life wouldn’t feel so chaotic.

“How can I get you to reconsider, Marie? I really want you to move in with Luke and me.”

The distinctive fragrance of fabric softener drifted in the room as Marie folded a pair of Ricky’s pants with jerky motions. They look just the same as the pairs in Luke’s drawers—same pint size, same style, same fold. That odd fact strengthened his resolve.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work, Marie.”

“There’s nothing you can do. I’m not about to change my mind.” The next few garments were disciplined into perfection under her moves.

“I’m not trying to put you on the defensive, Marie. It’s the best option available, especially since we live several hours apart with the wrong biological kids.”

“Give me other possibilities, Peter.”

He sat opposite her and let out a heavy sigh. “We can trade. We each keep the child we’ve been rearing during the week, then switch them on the weekend.”