A Father's Secret

Mistakes like what they’d suggested simply weren’t supposed to happen. When she and James had won the IVF lottery, which had taken them from their Lake Tahoe home to San Francisco to complete the procedures that led to baby Riley’s birth four months ago, they’d never for one moment thought that the fertility clinic could make such a terrible mistake. Nor had either of them dreamed that the flulike symptoms James had experienced months later masked a bacterial infection—one that led to the congestive heart failure that had taken his life within two weeks of Riley’s birth.

She was now left to deal with this all on her own, and the reality of it threatened to overwhelm her completely. The sheet of paper in her hand trembled and she set it down on the well-used kitchen table in front of her—a table that had been used by generations of Connells. A table that could only be used by future generations of Connells, according to the terms of the estate’s trust. She’d thought that everything about her home was Riley’s by right, as James’s son. What if she was wrong? She smoothed the letter onto the worn surface and wished to God she’d never gone to the post office to collect her mail today—or ever, for that matter.

Sasha’s hand came to rest on top of hers. “Don’t worry, Erin. Riley’s your son, nothing can change that, no matter who his father is. Write back and request more information before you’ll agree to any testing. Nothing in the letter you got from the lawyers acting for the clinic has even been substantiated. It’s not as if they’ve sent you categorical proof that a mix-up happened at all—and this letter from the lawyers acting for the other guy is couched in terms of a request, not a court ordered demand.”

Erin felt her heart lift at Sasha’s suggestion. “You’re right. And, at least if I write to them, that’ll delay things a little longer, won’t it?”

“Atta girl.” Sasha looked at the kitchen clock and sighed. “Sorry, I have to go. School’s out soon.”

“You go, get your kids. Don’t worry about me. And thanks for coming over when I lost it before.”

Erin had been a trembling wreck when she’d read her mail. One call to Sasha had been all it took for her one true friend to drop everything to be by her side. In a world that had changed so dramatically over the past twelve months, having her friend’s constant and loving support had been a godsend.

“Hey, that’s what friends are for, right? Call me when you get any more news, okay?” Sasha gave her a quick hug. “What time is your guest due to arrive?”

“Not until five.”

“At least having a paying guest again will help out a bit financially. I still can’t believe that James didn’t leave you and Riley better provided for.”

Erin frowned at the censure in her friend’s voice. “He did his best, Sash. Neither of us ever expected he’d die so young. Plus, our medical bills after Riley’s birth and James’s illness—well, you know they pretty much cleaned us out.”

“I know, I’m sorry, it’s just so unfair…”

Erin swallowed against the lump in her throat. Yes, it was so unfair. After all they’d been through, all they’d survived. Erin felt the old familiar depression begin to creep back in and she gave herself a swift mental shake. Dwelling on the past changed nothing. She had Riley, and that was all she needed to focus on now.

After seeing Sasha off, Erin changed Riley’s diaper before nursing him and putting him down for his afternoon sleep. Once he was down, she grabbed the baby monitor so she could hear if he didn’t settle, and quickly went upstairs to check on the room for her new guest. It had been ages since they’d taken guests at Connell Lodge, and she was still suffering from pretty hefty doses of baby brain. She wouldn’t put it past herself to have forgotten something important.

But no. The room was perfect and, with the afternoon sun streaming through the steel-paned windows, welcoming. Fresh lavender-scented linens graced the wide bed, a selection of roses from the garden, casually arranged in a crystal vase, decorated the tallboy against the wall, and the wide-plank flooring gleamed with polish. The en suite bathroom was equally pristine, with fresh towels on the rail all thick and fluffy, and a newly dry-cleaned robe on a hanger behind the door with its belt neatly knotted. Soaps, shampoos, yes, everything was there in abundance.

She’d arranged for the room across the hall from this one to be converted into a study at her guest’s request. He was, apparently, working on a book and had expressed a desire for privacy during his stay. Well, there’d be no problem with that, Erin conceded. He would be the one and only visitor here for the duration. In fact, he would be the first visitor she’d had here in months. His enquiry through their website had come at just the right time.