She’d known that sooner or later she would have to face him. But why now, when she was frazzled and unprepared?
“Hello, Judd,” she said as Jess reached out to rescue the bowl and take it from her. There were more things she might have said, but everyone at the table was watching and listening.
“Welcome to our celebration,” she added.
“Thank you. I’m grateful to be here.” He sounded as uneasy as she was. She’d been aware of him over the years, even glimpsed him now and then. But she’d made every effort to avoid him. She was married to Ed McCoy, and her son had been legally adopted by his stepfather. Any familiar contact with Judd might lead to questions—the wrong questions.
The years had changed him. The shaggy-haired biker who’d broken her heart was long gone. The man she was seeing now was in his mid-thirties, with handsome but timeworn features. His light brown hair was prematurely streaked with silver, his blue eyes framed by leathery creases. He had the look of a man who’d found peace and purpose, she thought. But no joy.
“Have a seat, Ruth,” Abner said. “Then we can say grace and dig into this wonderful feast.”
The only empty place was between her girls, directly across from Judd. Ruth pulled out her chair and sat down. There appeared to be no rhyme nor reason to Janeen’s seating arrangement.
After joining hands around the table, Abner offered a heartfelt prayer of thanks—for their friendship, for good health, and for the ways life had blessed each of them in the past year. Ruth stole a glance across the table at Judd. His eyes were lowered but not closed. He looked as if all he wanted was to get up and leave. She had to assume that, when he’d agreed to Abner’s invitation, he hadn’t known she would be here.
All they could do now was make polite conversation, as if the past had never happened—even if the living evidence of that past was sitting right next to him.
He’d written to her from prison. She’d returned his letters unopened. By then she was married to Tom, and any future they might’ve had together was gone.
The prayer ended, and the feast began with dishes moving around the table and murmurs of pleasant conversation. Ruth filled her daughters’ plates with small amounts of food she knew they would like and buttered Tammy’s roll. The meager helpings on her own plate were for show. Her appetite had fled.
Across the table, Skip was talking enthusiastically to Judd. Only now, with the two of them together, did she see the striking resemblance. Skip was like a youthful reflection of his father.
Surely, given time, Judd would notice. Then all he’d have to do was find a way to check Skip’s birth certificate. He would see that Tom Haskins was listed as the father. But the birth date would be enough to unmask the lie.
Would things have been different if Skip had known that his real father was in prison? Tom had wanted only to protect the boy and to raise him as his own. A robber’s bullet on a winter night had ended that plan. But at least Skip had grown up believing his father to have been a kind and honorable man—something he’d needed during those dark years with Ed. Wasn’t that enough to justify the deceit?
“Mom?” Skip caught her attention. “Judd says he’s got the straps cut for the harness. If Trevor and I can go home with him after dinner, we can get started on the work. Will that be all right?”
Ruth forced a smile to hide her anxiety. “Maybe,” she said. “But it’s storming out. You’ll need a way home.”
“I can drive him home, Ruth,” Judd said. “I saw your car outside. You won’t want to drive back out here and get him in this weather. Not until you get that window replaced.”
“Please, Mom. We’ve got to have that harness ready for the parade,” Skip said.
Ruth sighed. “All right, then. But what about tomorrow?”
“We’ll need to spend most of the weekend working,” Skip said. “Can you take me back in the morning if the storm’s over?”
“I suppose so. I can stop by Silas’s garage on the way home and get an estimate on the window.”
“What happened to it?” Judd asked.
Ruth shrugged. “Somebody smashed it while it was parked. Maybe they were just in a bad mood. I came out and found it that way this morning. Skip helped me cover it.”
“Are you driving yet, Skip?”
“Not yet. I won’t be sixteen till next April. I’m counting the days.”
Ruth’s pulse slammed. Her son had just given away her secret. If Judd suspected anything, all he’d have to do was count the months backward. But he appeared not to have noticed the slip.
“Goodness!” Desperate for a distraction, she rose from her chair. “I’m looking at a lot of empty plates. Who’s ready for pie and ice cream? I’m taking orders.”
Jess stood. “You take orders. I’ll start serving.” Bracing the door open, she bustled into the kitchen.
The diversion worked, for now at least. Dishing out plates of delicious apple, pumpkin, and pecan pie and scoops of ice cream marked the grand finale to the meal. Judd and the two boys finished their dessert and left to work on the harness. Everyone else pitched in to clear the table and put away the extra leaves. Ruth and Jess were left in the kitchen to box the leftovers and load the dishwasher.
“Well, I’d call that a success, thanks to you,” Ruth said. “Thanks for pitching in. I could never have managed it alone.”