A Mother's Secret by Janice Kay Johnson Page A

heartbeat drumming in her ears. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid . They’d gotten past this. She should have kept trying to…to soften him. Not confront him. Once, she’d heard him icily tell someone on the phone, “Don’t try to take me on. You’ll lose.”
    I can’t lose .
    “It isn’t that,” she said, lifting her chin. “I told you. It’s not healthy for a kid to have two homes. To be torn between them, always feeling conflicting senses of obligation. It wasn’t that I thought you’d treat him badly. I never thought that.”
    The waiter brought their drinks. Both sat silent until he was gone, Daniel’s gaze never leaving her face.
    “Tell me.” His voice was quiet but insistent. “Tell me what happened to your family.”
    She hated to remember, but he had a right to understand why she was afraid. “It didn’t start with the divorce.” She drew a deep breath. “My parents always fought, but I think they really loved each other.” Her half laugh was bitter. “Well, of course they did. People who feel indifference don’t wage quite so vicious a war, do they?”
    “No. My parents just…parted ways.”
    “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…!”
    He shook his head. “Just an observation.”
    Sure it was. She had been careless—cruel even—to remind him that his own parents hadn’t cared enough to battle over him.
    Which, Rebecca wondered, would be worse?
    “I think,” she said with difficulty, “that after me, my mother didn’t want to have another baby. The pregnancy was really difficult, and she spent the last six weeks of it on bed rest. Maybe she was scared. But Dad really did want more children, and eventually she let herself get pregnant again.”
    “To hold on to him?”
    Rebecca gave a small, painful shrug. “Maybe. Only then, when she was big and clumsy and probably scared to death, Dad had an affair.”
    Daniel swore. “That son of a bitch. And, no, I won’t apologize, even if he is your father.”
    A faintly incredulous laugh released some of her tension. “You don’t have to. Mom never forgave him. I never forgave him, and I didn’t even know why they split up, not until years later when I overheard them screaming at each other.”
    “How old were you?”
    She blinked. “Oh…Maybe twelve or thirteen? What difference does it make?”
    “Not a great age to find out what a bastard your father was.” He sounded thoughtful.
    “No.” Remembering, she repeated, “No. But I’m not sure there is a good age to learn something like that.”
    “Couldn’t you have handled it better as an adult?”
    She frowned. “Maybe. Yes. Of course I could.”
    “Did you decide then and there that no men were trustworthy?”
    Jolted, Rebecca argued, “That’s not what this is about.”
    “Isn’t it?” He looked at her without pity. “You decided when you found out you were pregnant that your kid was better off without a father.”
    “No, I decided my kid was better off without a fatherwho’d never loved me! Who wasn’t interested in commitment or family! That seems to me to be a reasonable decision.”
    They were once again silenced when their food arrived. Rebecca smoldered as Daniel thanked the waiter, gave the napkin a practiced flick and laid it across his lap. He picked up his fork. “The food is good here.”
    “I know. You brought me here once.”
    His face became even more expressionless, if that was possible. “Ah. I’d forgotten.”
    She, too, spread her napkin on her lap and picked up her own fork as if she was actually interested in her pasta.
    “Does your sister know your mother didn’t want to have a second baby?” Daniel asked.
    “No. I don’t think so. I mean, I can’t be sure, but I never told her.”
    His expression was once more grave, the anger banked. “How old were you when your parents split up?”
    “Eight.” She gazed unseeing at her food. “They tried to patch things up. Lea was four when Mom finally took us and moved out.”
    “And