Her Sister's Secret Life

Wade rubbed a hand over his short black hair, his frustration obvious. The last thing she wanted was to alienate him, but neither could she allow her son to be hurt.

“No more visits to Steve without my permission,” she added firmly. “Agreed?”

Wade started to argue, but then he must have thought better of it. “Okay,” he replied with a solemn expression. “Still friends?”

Lily felt a wave of relief wash over her. “Of course.”

After Wade went upstairs, she threw together a green salad to go with the casserole. When he came back downstairs and left to pick Pauline up from work, she went in search of Jordan.

Pauline’s elderly boarder, Dolly Langley, would be back from her cruise this evening, so Lily intended to take advantage of the temporary privacy.

She found Jordan curled up on the living-room couch with a library book, his hair still wet from his shower. He looked up when she sat down across from him.

“So you had a good day?” she asked hesitantly, wondering just how much to tell him.

He nodded, closing the library book, and looked at her with a wary expression. “Yeah.”

“Want to tell me about it?” She felt as though she were walking through a mine field.

“I met Steve,” he said, with an edge of defiance in his tone. “He showed me both the houses that he’s building.”

Steve must have been stunned when Wade presented Jordan to him. The conversation she owed him was one that she dreaded with a deep ache of regret. If she could only go back, but then she wouldn’t have Jordan.

“Did Steve know about me?” he asked in a small voice. “I mean, before we came.”

“No,” she said truthfully. “I swear to you that he had no idea. Not even an inkling.”

The tension drained out of his thin shoulders, making her realize he’d probably come to the conclusion that his father had ignored his existence for the past dozen years.

“Can I go see him again if he asks?” His expression was a mixture of longing and curiosity that nearly broke Lily’s heart. At a total loss for words, she relied on the stock reply of parents everywhere for questions that had no answer.

“We’ll see,” she said, knowing she couldn’t stall her son forever—and figuring it was one request that Steve would most likely never make. “We’ll see.”

Chapter Three

When Steve’s doorbell rang on Saturday afternoon, the last person he expected to see standing on his front porch was Lily’s son.

“Jordan!” Steve opened the door wider as his two dogs stood eagerly behind him. “What are you doing here?” Steve’s house was a couple of miles outside of town on a narrow country road with very little traffic.

Jordan shifted from one foot to the other, obviously nervous. “I used my birthday money for a ride.” He ducked his head, shoulders hunched.

Behind him Steve saw the local taxi leaving his driveway. At least the kid hadn’t hitched his way out here.

“I probably shouldn’t have come,” Jordan mumbled, cheeks flushed, “but I need to talk to you about something.”

Steve had a pretty good idea what he meant. “Since you’re here, you might as well come on in.” Realizing how unfriendly he must sound, he cleared his throat and tried again. “Uh, want something to eat? I was just about to make a couple of sandwiches.”

The boy’s face brightened immediately. “Yeah, that would be great.” As soon as he crossed the threshold, the dogs approached him with their tails wagging.

Cautiously Jordan extended his hand. “What are their names?”

“The bigger one is Seahawk and that’s Sonic,” Steve said after he had shut the carved wood door.

“Are they watchdogs?” Jordan asked as they sniffed his fingers.

The idea of either of them going after a burglar made Steve smile. “Nah, they’re golden retrievers. They love everybody.”

He led the way past the living room with its massive rock fireplace and vaulted ceiling, down the hall through the family room where he’d been watching TV, and into the gourmet kitchen.

“Wow,” Jordan exclaimed, head swiveling. “This place is way cool. Did you build it, too?”

“Yeah,” Steve replied, pleased by the compliment. “I designed it and did most of the work.”

After Jordan had wrapped his gangly legs around a bar stool at the granite center island and the dogs thumped down on the floor, Steve began pulling sandwich fixings from the stainless-steel double-door refrigerator.

“Does your mom know where you are?” he asked casually. Was she the kind of single parent who let her kid run wild while she was busy doing her own thing? He couldn’t imagine her giving permission for him to come here.

Steve knew nothing about her, so he shouldn’t jump to conclusions.

“Not really,” Jordan replied.

Steve held up a container of mustard with a questioning glance. When Jordan nodded, he squirted it onto the bread. “Won’t she be worried?” He doled out slices of ham and cheese as though he were dealing cards at a blackjack table, topped the stacks with lettuce and slapped on more bread.

Jordan looked longingly at the sandwiches, reminding Steve of the voraciousness of a growing boy’s appetite. “She’s looking at an office to rent and Dolly thinks that I walked over to the library,” he said. “Mom lets me walk there by myself.”

Steve put the sandwiches on plates and passed one over, impressed that Jordan didn’t immediately dig in. After Steve had set out two cans of soda and torn open a bag of chips, he sat down, too. Only then did the kid finally begin to eat.

Steve debated called Pauline’s house, then decided to hold off. It sounded as though Jordan had done a good job of covering his tracks. While they ate, Steve waited for him to start talking.

“Can I go out on the deck?” Jordan asked after he’d wolfed down the sandwich and taken a long swallow of soda.

“Sure,” Steve replied. “Don’t fall over the railing.”

The house sat on a low bluff above the water with wooden steps leading down to the beach. On a clear day, he could see all way to Whidbey Island.

Letting the dogs outside, he joined Jordan at the rail. The deck hugged the back and one end of the house, so that part of it was shaded in the afternoon and the rest remained in the sun.

“See those dark things in the water?” Steve asked, pointing. “They’re probably a pod of killer whales.”

Jordan stared with his face scrunched up as the breeze off the water ruffled his thick hair. “Oh, yeah. I’ve seen pictures.”

“So, what’s on your mind?” Steve finally asked when the silence had lengthened between them.

Jordan looked up at him through eyes that stirred up long-buried memories of his mother. “One of the other kids told me that you’re my dad,” he said. “Is it true?”

Although he’d known the question was coming, Steve had no idea how to respond. “And what does your mom say?” he asked, stalling in case inspiration decided to visit him.

Jordan turned to stare out at the water. “All she’s ever said was that you—uh, he, couldn’t be with us. I figured she meant my dad was dead, like my friend’s father who was a marine. I didn’t want to make her feel sad, so I never asked anything more.”