The sharp sting of missing her best friend had lessened over time. As Arden progressed through the trimesters, she found herself thinking of Natalie as a kind of guardian angel for her and the unborn baby. After losing so many loved ones in her life, it seemed cosmically fitting that Arden had conceived on Nat’s birthday.
“You wondered if it would hurt your friendship when Natalie and Colin first started dating?” Justin asked. “To be honest, I thought the age difference would be a problem, that they wouldn’t have enough in common for it to be long-lasting. But she made him damn happy.”
While Arden was finally healing after the deaths of her sister-in-law and young nephew, Colin had withdrawn further. Not only had he taken a sabbatical from his job as a large-animal vet, but he’d also recently announced that he was putting his house up for sale.
She leaned an elbow on the table, propping her chin on her fist. “I’m really worried about him.”
“Colin will be okay.” But the way Justin avoided her gaze proved he was equally concerned. “He’s always okay. He’s the one who holds us together.”
Their mother had died the winter Arden was in kindergarten, their father a few years later. Although a maiden aunt had come to live with them, it had been Colin who had essentially raised his younger brother and sister. He’d been so strong. But this most recent shattering loss—burying his wife and child? It seemed as if something inside him had broken beyond repair.
Justin dropped down next to Arden’s chair, squeezing her shoulder. “He will be okay. Maybe selling the house will help him let go, give him a chance to move forward with his life.”
Arden placed her hands over her distended abdomen. “Do you think this makes it harder, my having a baby? I’m sure it reminds him of Danny.” Her voice caught on her nephew’s name. He’d been a wide-eyed, soft-spoken toddler with an unexpectedly raucous belly laugh. His deep laugh had caused double takes in public, usually eliciting chuckles in response.
“If you’re happy about Peanut, then we are happy for you,” Justin said firmly. “But if you want to offer Colin some kind of distraction, I’m sure he’d be eager to track down the jerk who knocked you—”
“Justin!”
“The jerk responsible for your being in a blessed family way.”
“He wasn’t a jerk. He was...” A gift. Even after six months, she vividly recalled Garrett’s ability to make her temporarily forget everything else in the world, the power of his touch.
Justin recoiled with a grimace. “Seeing that look on my little sister’s face is disturbing as hell. You sure you won’t tell us who he is so we can punch his lights out?”
“He doesn’t live anywhere near here.” Thank God. Most of the locals hadn’t been brazen enough to ask outright who the father was, but the mystery had caused whispers behind her back. Some of the teachers in the district had begged Layla for information, but Arden—who’d shared only the vaguest details—had sworn her to secrecy. The first time Arden had encountered Hugh Connor in town after her pregnancy began to show, she’d held her breath, wondering if Garrett had ever mentioned their night together to his friend. But Hugh had merely asked for a business card because he planned to recommend her to a business colleague looking for a good photographer.
Meanwhile, Garrett lived in a different region of the state, on a ranch he’d told her had been in his family for generations. He had deep roots there. Maybe even a girlfriend by now. Arden didn’t plan to repay the kindness he’d done her by upending his existence. They’d used birth control during their night together, and the news that it had failed would most likely be an unwelcome shock.
It had taken her weeks to process the news that she was expecting, but she knew firsthand that life was precious. She chose to see conceiving this baby as a miracle. Her miracle.
* * *
GARRETT FROST HELD his parents in the highest regard. An only child, he worked alongside his father running the Double F Ranch and was impressed with the man’s drive and integrity. Garrett’s mother, the one who’d spent many afternoons giving him advice in their kitchen while she baked, had always been wise and articulate. So why, today, had Caroline Frost lost the ability to string together a coherent sentence? Ever since the restaurant hostess had seated Garrett and Caroline at a small booth, she’d been spluttering disjointed, half-finished thoughts.
“Breathe, Momma.” He took the breadbasket out of her hand. As jittery as she was, she was about to send the rolls flying to the floor. He gave her a cajoling smile. “You wanna tell me why you’re as nervous as a kitten in a dog pound?”
Her gray eyes clouded with worry. “You’ve always hated surprises,” she muttered. “Not that it’s your fault if you take this badly! Anyone would.... I don’t— Lord, I’ve messed this up before I even started. But I don’t know how to make it better. Easier to hear.”
Okay. Now he was nervous. Garrett waved away the approaching waitress. Something was very wrong. He doubted his mom wanted an audience for whatever she needed to explain. Although, if she had something personal and difficult to tell him, why had she suggested going to a restaurant?
They could have easily had a conversation in his parents’ main house or in the luxurious cabin Garrett had built on the back forty. The most logical explanation for her dragging him this far from home was so they could speak freely without any risk of his father overhearing. Was something wrong with him? Long, arduous days of ranch work could take a toll, and Brandon wasn’t getting any younger. But his father was direct to a fault. If there was bad news to be delivered, he would have told Garrett himself, not delegated the job to someone else.
“Momma, is everything all right with you?” he asked slowly. “Is there some irregular test result or something I should know about?”
“With me? I’m fit as a fiddle.” But she’d gone completely pale.
“Oh, God. Then it is Dad?”
Caroline did something he hadn’t witnessed since the day of his high school graduation. She burst into tears. “No. And y-yes. Your father’s quite ill. B-but it’s not wh-wh-what you think.” Taking deep gulping breaths, she clutched the edge of the table in a visible effort to regain her composure. “I’m so sorry. Brandon isn’t your father.”
* * *
GARRETT PUNCHED UP the volume on the music in his truck, but it was pointless. Not even the loudest rock and roll could drown out his tumultuous thoughts. He pounded his fist on the steering wheel, rage rising in him like a dark tide. Tangible enough to drown him.
For the first day after his mother’s avalanche of revelations, he’d been too numb to feel anything. Once emotion rushed in, he’d realized he had to get away from the ranch. Away from her. She’d had thirty years to tell the truth but had never said a word—not to him and not to the man he’d always believed was his father. Now she’d made Garrett an unwilling accomplice in keeping her adulterous secret. “I swear it was only the one time,” she’d sobbed. “A lifetime ago. Confessing my sins to Brandon might ease my conscience, but why wound him like that?”
Her single indiscretion had been with a longtime family friend, recently hospitalized Will Harlow. Complications from Will’s diabetes had irreparably damaged his kidneys. Though his condition was currently stable, renal failure was inevitable. Without a kidney transplant, his prognosis was grim. Caroline insisted they couldn’t tell Brandon now. “If Will died with animosity between them, your father would never forgive himself!”
How had Brandon remained oblivious to the truth for all these years? He was an intuitive man. Certainly perceptive enough that he would notice the awful tension between his wife and son. So Garrett impulsively