Ten Mountain Men's Baby (Love by Numbers 9)

“Come stay with me in Franklin,” said Will, “at least until you get yourself sorted in Blue Ridge.”

“I don’t know if I’m going to Blue Ridge.”

“Or wherever you decide to go,” said Will, “stay with me in Franklin until you sort it out.”

As I walked away from the cabin, I looked back at it and was stunned at how small it seemed. I said as much to Will and Owen. “There had been so much life in there, so many memories. I can’t believe how tiny it actually looks now. Strange.”

Owen put a hand on my shoulder. “That’s exactly how I felt about where we grew up.”

I felt slightly better the next day. Will had to work, and I was again on my own, but I had a phone and the internet. I called my parents back in Massachusetts. It had been nearly two weeks since we last spoke, and I had told them nothing about my brothers.

“You must be all the way up to Maryland by now,” said my father.

“No. Actually, I’m still in North Carolina.”

“Really? Where in North Carolina?”

“Franklin.”

There was a long pause that spoke volumes.

“Oh, I see,” my father said. “And what is.… Why did you stop in North Carolina for so long?”

I paused and weighed my words carefully. “Dad, I’m going to stay here.”

“But.…”

“I found a residency nearby in a hospital in Blue Ridge.”

“That’s good.” He cleared his throat. “What else did you find?”

He was setting me up to help me deliver the news he must have surely known I had to give. The name Franklin had been a big clue. Still, I fumbled for the words and couldn’t find them.

“When are you coming.… When do you think you’ll be back in Massachusetts?”

That hurt, his balking at the word “home” and reverting to “back in Massachusetts.” It hit me in the stomach like a lead balloon. I crumpled in my chair and held my head up with my elbow on the table and my hand on my forehead. “I don’t know. Soon, I guess. Maybe Christmas.”

“Christmas would be nice.”

“Dad.…”

“Yes?”

No other words came out. I simply wanted him to hear me call him dad. I wanted to let him know I didn’t feel any differently about him. I hoped that word alone would be enough because no other words were coming out.

“Your mother is playing bridge with the gals. I’ll tell her you called.”

“Yes.”

“She’s going to be awfully upset.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“Dad.…”

“Yes.”

“Did you know?”

“Know about what?”

“Did you know about my brothers?”

There was a long pause, too long. I thought about ending the call, the silence was unbearable.

“No, I didn’t. I don’t know. What—”

“Did you know about my mom? I mean my birth mother?”

“Son, your birth mother was sick. She was in the mountains, on her last breath. We didn’t know how to tell you. We didn’t want to upset you. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”The call with my father had been emotionally exhausting, more so than I’d expected. But I was not empty yet. I dialed Holly’s number in San Diego, but I couldn’t bring myself to hit “send.” Instead, I put down the phone, lumbered into the living room where I lay on the couch staring at the blank TV until Will returned.

“How was your day?” he asked me.

“I spent it mostly thinking about Holly.”

“Much like mine, then,” he said.

I sat up on the couch, and he came and sat down next to me. “Is she going to come back?” I asked him, hoping he’d say, Yes. Of course. Everything’s going to be all right.

But instead, he gave me the truth. “How could I know. If it’s meant to be, she’ll come back.”

“I didn’t call her,” I said. “Couldn’t bring myself to.”

“That’s a shame. She’d love to hear from you.”

I knew what he was saying was true, but I also knew that I could not talk to her without imploring her to come back. And while I knew she would love to, I also knew she was more consumed, just as I was, with what she needed to do or felt she needed to do than with what she wanted to do. Her life was in San Diego. Her friends, her patients, they needed her. And we had no right or claim to take her from them.

“I came here to find a family,” I said. “Never did I imagine I’d find nine brothers. Now, I have. And yet, I want more. How selfish does that make me?”

He put a hand on my shoulder, chuckled, and gave me a shake. “You’re not selfish. You want more because Holly made you see that more is possible. That’s a good thing.”

“But it hurts.”

“That, too, is good. Imagine if it didn’t.” He stood and walked to the kitchen. “Have you eaten?”

I shook my head. “I’m not hungry.”

“I’m going to make some stir-fry. Maybe you’ll get hungry later.”