The fire in her eyes went out and compassion replaced it. Quietly, she asked, “Would you and Luke care for some juice? Water?”
“Juice for him, please. Do you have any coffee?”
“I’m out of it right now. Sorry.”
“Okay. Juice will do.” He hefted Luke and ventured, “I’ll bet this little guy would rest if we laid him down. I gave him a decongestant so his ears would clear on the plane. It makes him sleepy, but he’s getting over another ear infection, so I didn’t have much of a choice.”
“Poor guy. Let’s tuck him into Ricky’s bed.” They coaxed Luke out of the tool belt and laid him down. As they left the bedroom, Marie said, “I’ve heard ear infections are brutal.”
“He’s had them constantly since birth. Hasn’t Ricky?”
She shook her head. “No, breastfed babies rarely get them.”
It took every shred of discipline to keep from zeroing in on her T-shirt. “You nursed my son?”
“My son. Or at least I thought he was.” She folded her arms across her chest and her cheeks turned the same cherry-red as her shirt. “Didn’t your wife want to?”
“My wife died as a result of a car accident. The doctors at Melway General delivered our child as a last-ditch effort.”
Marie gave him a startled look. “That’s why you were so adamant about not letting me go! I was pretty surprised.”
He nodded. “Probably. Some wounds don’t heal very easily.” His gaze slid over her face. “Your reaction to the guns yesterday was probably magnified because of how your husband died.”
“We’ve both stumbled onto each other’s vulnerabilities, haven’t we?”
“Let’s make allowances for that and try to start over.”
She nodded hesitantly.
“So tell me why Ricky is crazy about firefighters when your husband was a cop.”
“Sandy mail-ordered a costume and the truck for Christmas. It’s grown into a full-blown fascination. I bought a bunch of patches that look like badges and added them to his shirts just to save my sanity.”
They walked into the kitchen. Peter passed the round oak table and noted a dinky acrylic holder full of tiny, colorful paper strips. A pale blue one lay on the table. Lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the earth. That Bible promise seemed particularly apropos. Ever since Marie’s revelation, he felt like he stood teetering on the edge of the safe, happy world he’d built for himself and his son. He needed to be reminded the Lord was with him—with them—in the midst of this earth-shattering mess.
“You mentioned consulting an attorney.” Marie took two green striped glasses from the cupboard. “So what happens next?”
“So far, we’re basing everything on simple blood type and deductive reasoning. We’ll undoubtedly have to have DNA testing done to confirm the boys were swapped. We could go the rapid route and have an answer back in a couple of days, but since things will get sticky, I’d rather spare the boys a second blood draw and have all of the specimens go through the full battery.”
“It sounds to me like you still aren’t convinced there was a switch.”
Peter frowned. “On the contrary. As far as I’m concerned, doing the lab work is a mere formality. I always thought Luke looked like my wife until you came along, Marie. Now I know he has to be yours. The similarity is stunning—just like the match between Ricky and me. Even a fool could plainly see whose child is whose.”
“But everyone else will demand proof.”
He nodded. “This week we’ll all have to get to a lab, but for the sake of streamlining things, I’m going to assume our suspicions are a confirmed fact.”
“Okay.” Her hand shook as she poured the orange juice. “I’ll have the doctor call in an order to the lab. Ricky and I can go after work on Monday.”
Peter had thought about having them all go in and getting the blood drawn at a clinic today, but he could see that wouldn’t be wise. He’d rattled her badly enough yesterday, and he still had something on the agenda that meant more to him at the present. He cleared his throat.
“Did you need something?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. I want to spend the weekend. I went crazy without Ricky last night.”
Marie gave him a stricken look. “You can’t get possessive like that, Peter.”
“He’s my son, Marie.”
“And Luke is my son.” Marie could see the strain in his eyes. She drew in a deep breath to steady her nerves and whispered a quick prayer for wisdom. She wanted her voice to stay strong, even though everything inside quivered like pudding. Quickly, before her words would quaver, she shoved his glass at him. “It’s practically tearing me apart, but I’m trying hard not to make any demands and to be scrupulously fair.”
“I think you ought to come live with me.”
Chapter Four
Her own glass slipped from her fingers and shattered on the floor. Marie ignored it as she gaped at him.
“Did you cut yourself?” Peter carefully walked on the clean spots between the glass and juice. He wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her onto the counter.
She practically shrieked, “Live with you?”
“Yes. You’re a mess. Swing around here and put your feet in the sink so you can rinse the juice off of your legs and feet.”
Stunned, Marie sat there and looked at him as if he’d suddenly sprouted cloven hooves. “I can’t live with you!”
“Marie, take care of your legs, then we’ll see to the other issues. Where’s your trash?”
She mutely pointed at a cabinet. Turning around, Marie followed his suggestion and put her feet in the sink. Rinsing off took no time at all, but she sat on the counter and stared at the water as it cascaded over her feet. Clearly, Peter Hallock wasn’t going to be a take-things-slowly kind of man. He blazed his own path; she carefully considered and weighed her options. That personality difference wasn’t going to make coping with the situation any easier. Lord, this would be a great time for a miracle. If You’re not dispensing those, then that wisdom I just requested? Please double it and add on a side order of patience!
“Are you okay?”
His concern jarred Marie out of her prayer. She turned off the water. “I’m fine. Please hand me a towel.”
He tossed a dishcloth to her. “There you go.” Gingerly, he picked up large shards of glass and put them in the trash, then sopped up most of the remainder of the mess with a few paper towels. “Your floor is going to be sticky.”
“I planned to mop it today, anyway.”
“I’ll mop it.”
“No, thank you.” His offer surprised her. “I’ll sponge it for now and take care of it after Ricky goes down for his nap. He’ll slip on a wet floor.”
“I hoped we could use that quiet time to talk through some plans.”
Marie gave him a stern look. “Peter, I don’t know exactly what you have in mind, but I’m not ready to pull up stakes and move. I have a steady job and, though it may not compare in any way to your mansion, this is my home. I have ties to the community, and stability is important to me. It’s vital in a small child’s life, and I’d be a fool to give all of that up because you snap your fingers.”
“I’m not asking for myself. I’m asking because I firmly believe it’s in the boys’ best interests.”
Marie