The Secret Heir

Attempting a shaky smile, Laurel shook her head. “But thank you for offering.”

He squeezed her hands a bit more tightly, encouragingly. From Morgan, the gesture was almost effusive. His marriage to the outgoing and demonstrative Emma was loosening him up a bit, Laurel thought with a brief ripple of amusement.

“You know where to find me if you need me,” he said.

She nodded. “Thank you, Morgan.”

Something made her glance toward her husband, who was watching them with a frown. Morgan, too, looked that way, then released Laurel’s hands and stepped toward Jackson. The two men had met on several occasions, of course, but the most generous term that could be used to describe their relationship was cordial. Barely.

And that, Laurel thought, was definitely Jackson’s fault. He hadn’t wanted her to return to work in the first place, and he had always blamed Morgan for luring her back, even though she had told him Morgan had nothing to do with her decision.

Whatever Morgan sensed about Jackson’s opinion of him, he had always been unfailingly polite, as he was now. Extending his hand, he said, “Hello, Jackson. I just told Laurel to be sure and let me know if there’s anything I can do for either of you today.”

Jackson nodded. “Thanks. We’re doing okay.”

“You know that everyone at the Children’s Connection has Tyler in their thoughts and prayers today.”

“We appreciate that.” Jackson moved closer to Laurel as he spoke, not so subtly positioning himself

between his wife and her director.

Morgan spoke briefly with Donna and Carl after Laurel introduced them. He left a few minutes later with the promise that he would check in again to see if they needed anything.

“Your boss seems like a very nice man,” Donna said to Laurel a few moments after Morgan left.

“Yes, he is.” Laurel took her seat again and locked her hands in her lap. Now that her momentary distraction was over, her concentration returned to the distant operating room.

It was like flipping a switch, Jackson thought with an irritably bemused shake of his head as he studied his wife from across the surgery waiting room.

Nearly an hour after Morgan Davis had stopped by, Laurel was visiting with another of her professional associates, philanthropist Leslie Logan. And, just as she had earlier with Morgan, Laurel had gone from being tense and silent and withdrawn to animated and talkative. Still visibly anxious about the surgery, but more willing to share what she was thinking and feeling. She even allowed Leslie to hug her and give her the maternal sort of comfort she wouldn’t have accepted so willingly from her mother-in-law.

The wife of a wealthy and wildly successful entrepreneur, Leslie Logan dedicated many hours—and dollars—to the Children’s Connection adoption foundation she had supported almost from its inception. Jackson figured she had to be around sixty, but she was an attractive woman with her slender build, reddish-gold hair and lively brown eyes.

He knew Laurel had always admired Leslie, to the point that he’d once accused her of hero-worshipping the older woman. Sure, Leslie had worked tirelessly on behalf of the foundation in addition to raising a houseful of kids, both biological and adopted. And she had carried on bravely after losing her first child to a kidnapper several decades ago, even though she still had to be haunted by the memory of that loss.

Jackson could understand why Laurel admired the woman. But if Laurel was so impressed with that sort of wealth and influence, why had she married a construction foreman who would probably never move in those circles?

So maybe he had a bit of a chip on his shoulder when it came to Laurel’s wealthy associates. He figured that was natural enough when a man measured his accomplishments by how well he provided for his family. Yeah, sure, he and Laurel had met at a fancy society party, but he’d never tried to pretend to her that he was one of the upper crust, or even particularly aspired to being one. A hard worker who made a good living—that was how he saw himself.

He’d never taken a dime he hadn’t earned himself, unlike the rich kids who’d inherited their wealth. He’d worked his way up from hammer-swinger to job foreman and he aspired to someday own a small construction firm that would turn a tidy, if modest, profit. A nice house, an occasional family vacation, a decent education for his kids—that had been enough to satisfy his parents, and it was all he asked for himself.

He’d thought at the beginning that Laurel felt the same way. She’d never asked for more, though, of course, Laurel never asked for anything. But when she had chosen to return to work rather than devoting herself to the full-time responsibilities of motherhood, he’d had to assume there was something missing in their life. And since her only explanation had been vague statements about needing to feel “fulfilled,” he still didn’t know what the hell she found in her work that he couldn’t provide for her at home.

He also couldn’t understand why she allowed herself to look so vulnerable in front of Leslie Logan when she refused to show any weaknesses at all in front of her own husband and in-laws. Sometimes it seemed almost as if there were three Laurels—the friendly, outgoing, witty social worker most people knew; the loving, devoted, infinitely patient mother to Tyler; and the quiet, self-conscious, defensive outsider in the Reiss family. With him, she was a combination of all those Laurels, but there was still a part of herself she kept hidden even from him.

He wondered if any of her friends from work ever saw a glimpse of that hidden Laurel. He found himself wanting very badly to be the one she smiled at the way she had smiled at Morgan and Leslie. Maybe it was his fault that she didn’t, his failure to make her feel as valued as they obviously did.

Leslie gave Laurel one final hug, then made her way out of the waiting room. Acting on impulse, Jackson moved immediately across the room to join his wife. “You holding up okay?” he asked her.

She gave a little sigh and pushed a strand of hair away from her pale face. “Barely.”

It was a more candid response than he had expected. He slipped an arm around her shoulders. “We should be hearing something any minute.”

She nodded against his shoulder. “I hope so.”

“I’ll be glad when this is all over and Tyler’s back home again.”

Her reply was heartfelt. “So will I.”