She had paused at the end of the hallway to open the bottle for a sip of her drink when she heard Carl speaking just around the corner. “Let it go, Donna. You don’t know for sure where the gene came from.”
“I could call and ask if he knows anything about it.” Donna’s voice sounded different than Laurel was accustomed to hearing it. High-pitched. Almost scared.
“And what good would that do? Tyler’s condition was discovered in time for treatment. That’s all that really matters. Jay doesn’t have to know.”
“He’s going to find out, Carl. Don’t you see? Somehow during all this testing and discussion, he’s going to find out. And I’m not sure what that will do to him. He’s already under so much stress, with his relationship with Laurel so strained and Tyler so ill.”
The sound of her name roused Laurel out of her temporary paralysis. She had no business listening to this, even if they were talking about her family.
Making sure her heels clattered as she walked, she turned the corner and looked surprised to see Carl and Donna standing there in a quiet alcove, their heads very close together as they talked. Donna’s face was ashen and Carl’s grave as he held his wife’s hands. Both of them started guiltily when they saw Laurel.
“I thought you two were on your way home,” she said, hoping her voice sounded natural. “Is anything wrong?”
Donna made a visible effort to pull herself together. “I’m just having a bit of a panic attack, I suppose. Even though I’m confident everything will go well tomorrow, I can’t help but dread it a bit.”
There was obviously much more to Donna’s distress than concern about Tyler’s surgery. Knowing this wasn’t the time to pursue it, Laurel merely nodded. “I know. I feel the same way.”
“I’m taking her home to rest now,” Carl said, tucking Donna’s arm beneath his and moving toward Laurel. “I hope you manage to get some sleep tonight.”
“I’ll try.”
Carl reached out to rest a work-roughened hand against Laurel’s cheek. “You lean on Jay through this, you hear? He’s a str
ong man. He’ll take care of you.”
Laurel knew Carl was trying to help, but her instinctive response was to assure him that she didn’t need anyone to take care of her. She was strong. She’d always had to be. She had learned very early in her life that being strong and self-sufficient earned her the respect and approval of others, while depending on someone else too often led to disappointment and heartbreak.
“Take Donna home,” she said rather than directly responding to his words. “She needs to rest.”
Both Carl and Donna looked vaguely disappointed by Laurel’s evasion, but then, she was used to sensing disapproval in them, she thought as she watched them walk toward the elevators. Still thinking of the words she had overheard, she entered Tyler’s room.
Jackson sat in the rocking chair with Tyler on his knee as they watched a cartoon on the television together. Scooby-Doo. Their favorite.
As usual, Tyler clutched the stuffed penguin he called Angus. Jackson had bought him that toy on one of their trips to the Oregon Zoo. Tyler was almost obsessed with the famous Humboldt penguins display there. He never tired of watching the funny little creatures waddling along their rock walkways or torpedoing through the waves and currents of their pool. Whenever Jackson took a rare Saturday afternoon off from work, he and Tyler usually visited the zoo, their special place.
Laurel paused just inside the doorway for a moment, studying them. They looked so much alike. So perfect together.
Emotions roiled inside her as she looked at them. Her feelings for Tyler, at least, were clear-cut. Overwhelming love. Pride. Fear for his future.
It wasn’t so easy to define the way she felt about Jackson.
He glanced up when she entered. Though he noted the soft-drink bottle in her hand, he made no comment other than to say, “Your boss called while you were out. He said to call if you need him or Emma for any reason. Said they would be checking on you tomorrow.”
“That was thoughtful of him.”
Jackson’s grunt could have been an agreement, or merely an acknowledgement that she had spoken. They rarely talked about her job, or his either, for that matter, since their work seemed to represent so many of the problems between them.
Laurel settled in the recliner, cradling her soft drink between her hands. “I saw your parents on their way out,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “Your mother seemed rather stressed.”
“I thought so, too.” He glanced at Tyler, whose attention was still focused on the television program. “I guess we can both understand why.”
“I suppose.” But Donna hadn’t been fretting about the surgery. Laurel had gotten the distinct impression that her mother-in-law was worried about something else instead. It had sounded very much as if Donna were keeping a secret from her son—a secret she was terrified Jackson would discover.
Laurel couldn’t help speculating about what that secret was, especially since Donna had worried about medical tests bringing it to light. Was Jackson adopted?
And if that were the case, how would Jackson react to the news if he were to find out? Why would Donna and Carl have kept it from him?
Through her job with the adoption agency, Laurel frequently counseled prospective adoptive couples. Her advice was that such information should be provided to the adopted children from an early age. Secrets had a way of coming to the surface, and it was easier for everyone concerned if the truth was known from the start.