A Mother's Secrets (Parent Portal 4)

Jamie streamed music most of the way, mellow country mostly, and she put her seat back and napped a little bit. She didn’t remember being as tired when she’d been pregnant before, but it wasn’t like she’d spent a lot of time hanging on to, or cataloging those memories.

They got stuck in some traffic heading off the freeway and into Anaheim. He kept watching the clock to the point that she said, “We’re going to be fine, Jamie. It’s still an hour before they’re due to go on. We’ve already got our tickets so we’ll be able to go right in...”

“It’s like getting on a plane now,” he said, more tense then she’d ever seen him. “You have to go through security and have bags checked.”

“We’ve still got plenty of time. Even if we have to park far out in the lot, they have shuttles still, I’m sure... And even if we’re a minute or two late, it’s not like they’re going to know. I’m sure that it will mean the world to them just to see you there afterward...”

His impatience was almost comical—except that it wasn’t kind to take pleasure in another’s discomfort. He didn’t swear, or suddenly start to drive erratically, but he definitely wasn’t her Jamie.

No.

Not her Jamie. Just the Jamie she was usually with

. And really, what did she know? They saw each other a few minutes or a little more, a few times a week. And at the doctor’s office, where she was merely a conduit, and he and the doctor were the people with roles to play.

As she’d known would be the case, they were inside the park, heading from the locker area up front, past the first couple of stores—or that last chance to buy souvenirs if you were on your way out—toward Main Street, with almost half an hour to spare.

Excitement lit inside her, on a small scale, as she looked around at the fantasy town where everything was colorful and beautiful and perfect looking. “It looks pretty much like I remember it,” she said, smiling at Jamie, who was keeping close beside her. “How can that be?”

The place was crowded, of course, and he seemed more intent on watching out for her than giving any hint of enjoying his surroundings.

Like, at any moment, someone might bump into her stomach and hurt her.

Or the baby. It was about him, not her, she reminded herself.

He knew right where the main stage was and didn’t let her veer off course even long enough to take a peek at a couple of Disney characters dressed up for photo ops.

“I have a picture someplace of me and Mom and Dad here,” she told him. She’d forgotten that she had it. Figured it was probably in the photo trunk in the attic. She was going to look when she got home. Get it out.

Those were the types of photos that she should frame and put on the hallway walls upstairs—after she got them repainted.

She figured they’d find a seat in the back of the arena, leaving lower seats for guests there to see the whole show, but Jamie led them straight to the front row.

“We’re going to block the view of those kids.” She leaned over to whisper, getting a whiff of his musky cologne in the process. The scent that seduced her that night in his SUV. She pointed to the bleacher two up behind them.

With a nod, he scooted a couple of feet. But stayed right there in front. Like he thought his students would be looking for him and he wanted to make certain they saw him easily. She hadn’t realized how close he was with them. They’d really seemed kind of formal with him when they’d been to their last show.

An emcee came out. Asked the crowd if they’d enjoyed the break. Said he hoped they’d had enough time to get refreshments from the carts she and Jamie had passed on the way in. Jamie scooted closer to her. Put an arm behind her, touching her back, but resting on the metal bench on the far side of her.

No one was going to bump her from behind. And she had support for a back that was starting to ache now and then. So thoughtful.

“Up next in our competition is a thirteen-year-old from Santa Barbara,” the emcee said. “Shawn Bretton.”

“Competition?” she asked Jamie, looking at her watch, as the audience clapped. “I thought there was a show due to start. Your kids are up in ten minutes.”

“This is the show they’re in,” he said, staring at the stage, his voice a little short. “It’s a music competition put on in conjunction with schools and talent agencies.”

A young man had walked out onstage dressed in black pants and a white button-down shirt with the sleeve cuffs rolled halfway up his arms. He walked with confidence and stood a bit awkwardly. A combination of adult and kid.

“Tell us a little about yourself, Shawn.”

“I’m a student at Shelby Junior High, in the eighth grade. I play baseball, and I hope to study law.”

“And what are you going to sing for us today?”

“A song my dad wrote when I was little...”

“Your dad. He’s a songwriter?”