I was looking out for myself.
Excuses, excuses.
Jodi pulled herself upright and still looked small. But fighting hard. Like she wasn’t about to give up on this in a hurry. A mother protecting her child?
That twist of fear grew bigger.
‘Mitchell, we can go the DNA route if you want proof Jamie is yours. But I think I can persuade you with this.’
His gaze was glued to her as she slid her hand inside the back pocket of her jeans. As she began withdrawing a cellphone, a sudden landslide of emotion engulfed him. He knew without seeing whatever she was about to show him that finally everything he’d ever done, all the deliberate plans to remain unattached to anyone for ever had just come completely undone.
He did know Jodi. Knew she’d never pull a stunt like this on anyone. Knew how she would not have hesitated to bring a child up on her own. Knew that she’d love that child more than life itself. All the arguing in his head couldn’t change that.
Her hand shook violently as she held the opened phone out, a photo shining at him. ‘This is Jamie. Your boy.’
He stared and stared at that phone, unable to reach for it because the moment he did he was finished. Life had come full circle on him. He’d spent years perfecting avoidance of commitment. Even his town house was just a building to sleep and shower in. His mouth was drier than a summer wind. His insides tossed and turned as though in a tumble dryer.
‘Mitch, take it. Please.’ A tear oozed from the corner of her eye.
He had always been able to turn a blind eye to women’s tears. Until now. That solitary drop of water inching down her cheek arrowed straight to his heart. Jodi. Jamie.
His fingers weren’t steady, probably never would be again. The phone slipped through her hand and his to the carpeted floor. Jodi didn’t move to pick it up, sat there peering up at him with those stricken eyes. Finally he reached down, swooped it up, turned it the right way round and, with a suck of air, met his son.
He stared at his own reflection. At least, that’s what it looked like. The eyes looking out at him were the same shade of blue he saw in the mirror every time he shaved. The only difference about the straight dark hair was the style. Slightly too long and wild. The generous grin with even, white teeth; the straight, pointed nose. Even the ‘to hell with the world’ attitude in the little lad’s stance. This was himself thirty-three years ago.
But this photo. The modern background and clothes. This was different. Not even he could deny this boy was his.
Jamie was his son. He was a dad. Oh, my God.
‘Mitchell?’ His name hiccupped off Jodi’s lips.
‘Why now? Why not three years ago?’ He swallowed the bitter comments hovering on his tongue. He mightn’t want to be a father, or to even know he was one, but she should’ve told him, given him the choice of what to do about the situation. Except Jodi knew him all too well, had known he’d resist with every fibre in his body. What had changed her mind about telling him?
Jodi grimaced, went back to twisting her fingers round and round. The desolation in her face drilled him. ‘I am very, very sorry.’
He waited quietly, while his heart thudded hard against his ribs. He couldn’t have enunciated a word if he’d tried. I’ve missed out on so much. Three years of growing up that I’ll never know about. Surprising how much that hurt. Even when it was partially his own fault. Especially because of that. Jodi had carried the weight of his blind need to protect himself, had paid the consequences. Until tonight. ‘Tell me what brings you here now.’
When she finally answered it was with dignity. ‘Jamie’s very ill. He’s going to die if I don’t get the right care very soon. You might be able to help him.’
The strength went out of his knees. Gripping the edge of the table, he held himself upright. He’d asked and got the answers. Damn it. He stared at her. Her unwavering gaze spoke the truth. All of this nightmare was true. All of it. And more. His head whirled with angry questions. With denial. With acceptance. With—he didn’t know the hell what with but it sure as blazes hurt. Pain needled him, squeezed him, shook him like a defenceless kitten in a dog’s mouth.
Groping for his chair, he sank down into it and dropped his head into his hands. Could he rewind the clock an hour? Back to when the biggest problem he’d had was keeping his staff happy during the coming week? Back to when he’d been snoozing before going to a party?
‘What do you want from me?’ He didn’t recognise his own voice it was so croaky. ‘Money?’ He lashed out, trying to step through this mire of problems he’d never expected to have, trying to come out on top of it all. His way. The way he felt safe. The way he had some control over everything.
‘I’ll forget you said that.’ Ice chipped off Jodi’s words. ‘Jamie has renal failure. Cystinosis, to be exact. Our specialist in Dunedin believes he’s got a better chance up here. In this hospital.’
‘Bloody hell.’ Mitch leapt up and strode across the room, turned at the wall, strode back. Turned and slapped his hands on his hips as he bent down towards her. ‘Kick me in the guts, why don’t you?’
‘I know how you must be feeling.’
His eyebrows disappeared over the back of his head and his jaw clanged down on his chest. The situation got the better of him. ‘You know how I’m feeling? That’s rich.’
Her eyes were murky, like mud. Wet, brown and so, so sad. ‘I’ve been dealing with Jamie’s illness all his life. But I haven’t forgotten the day I was told about his condition. The terror, the sense of failing my baby, wanting to believe the doctors had made a mistake and that someone’s else’s son was sick and not mine. And then guilt for thinking that. So, yes, I do know.’
Did she have to sound so bloody reasonable? And so disappointed with him? Couldn’t she cut him some slack? It was all too much, too new, too raw. He tried to breath, struggled. Paced across the room and back, swallowed the lump blocking his throat, and strove for control. Back and forth across his office, which got smaller with every turn. He needed to get out of there, get some air. Stop thinking for a bit to give his mind time to settle down and absorb everything he’d learned over the last few minutes.
‘I’m going for a walk.’ He headed for the door.
Jodi was out of her chair and in his face so fast he hadn’t even reached for the door handle. ‘I’m coming with you.’
‘No, Jodi. Give me a break here, okay? I need time to myself. It’s not like you’ve given me a weather forecast or told me the cat’s got fleas. This is huge. I need to absorb it all before I decide what I’m going to do.’
Her lips t
ightened. ‘I understand. It’s been a big shock. But I’m coming with you. You’ll have plenty of questions once you start getting past the initial disbelief and I want to be there to answer them.’ When he narrowed his eyes at her she added quickly, ‘I won’t say a thing unless you ask me to.’
Maybe this really was a lookalike Jodi.
His phone sang a tune. He groaned as he read the message. ‘Samantha’s wondering why I haven’t turned up at the party yet.’
If looks could kill, he’d be a goner. Holding his hands up in a placating gesture, he added, ‘I’m definitely not in the mood for a party now.’ Probably never would be again. His finger pressed the ‘off’ button. Shocking how quickly life could change.
‘Samantha is?’
‘Not my girlfriend.’ He hauled the door open and Jodi slipped out right alongside him. She stuck to him all the way through the hospital corridors, through the car park and onto the street, where he strode blindly along the footpath, trying to outrun this nightmare.
And, true to her word, she didn’t utter a word.
Which was even more disturbing. He did not know this Jodi at all.
*
Jodi shivered in the chill night air. Wrapping her arms around her upper body, she tripped along beside Mitch.
Engrossed in thought, he didn’t seem to realise she was still with him, which gave her a chance to study him uninterrupted. Every time they passed under a streetlight she saw the raw shock still in his face. And the serious bent of his gaze. The clenched jaw.
At least he wasn’t shucking Jamie off like a used coat. That had to be good. Mitch was the champion of avoidance when it came to getting close to someone. He knew all the moves to keep people at arm’s length. Even in the best times they had together she’d known she had no future with him, that eventually he’d be gone.
That had made it a little easier to toss him out. Only a very little. The weeks and months following that disastrous day had been hard. Learning she was pregnant had added to her grief, but hadn’t broken her resolve to stay away from him after the conversation she’d overheard between him and his twin.