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“I’ll go get Tyler washed up,” Jackson offered, heading for the door.
“I’ll help him,” Carl said, tagging right behind his son.
“Shirkers,” Laurel called after them, making them chuckle in unison as they disappeared.
She didn’t usually tease much around her in-laws. With them she was more likely to suppress her natural tendency to be the clown who made people laugh—her way of making them like her. Maybe she’d been secretly afraid that teasing wasn’t the way to win her in-laws’ affections, and she hadn’t known any other way except to be good and quiet and cause them no problems.
Now she believed she had been wrong to hide from them who she really was. There was still a risk that they wouldn’t grow to love her, of course, though she and Carl seemed to be off to a good start now. Still she should at least give them a chance to know the real Laurel before they decided how they truly felt about her.
Maybe in being less guarded around her husband and his parents, she could get to know the real Laurel Phillips Reiss a bit better herself.
“It was a nice evening, wasn’t it?” Jackson’s voice was a low, satisfied rumble in the darkness of their bedroom later that night.
Her cheek on his bare shoulder, Laurel nodded as she remembered the family dinner. Tyler had been the center of everyone’s attention, of course, and he’d made the most of it, chattering and performing with uninhibited enthusiasm. His cheeriness had made it easier for the adults to put their issues away and enjoy the meal together.
The usual stilted courtesy between Laurel and her mother-in-law threatened to make an occasional appearance—four years of habit were hard to break, Laurel had discovered—but she had made a determined effort to keep the conversation light and friendly, and Donna had cooperated fully.
The whole evening had been very much what she had always fantasized a family meal should be like during her childhood, when she had spent so many evenings alone eating cereal in front of a television and wondering if her mother would be home before dawn.
Donna had looked much better when she left than when she had arrived, and Carl was grateful enough that he went so far as to kiss Laurel’s cheek on his way out. The gesture had been enough to bring an ache to her heart, but it was a pleasant ache.
Jackson and Laurel had spent the rest of the evening playing with Tyler. Together they had tucked him into bed—and then they had retired to their own bed, where they’d made love with the new commitment that made every kiss so much more special.
She was still recovering from the effects of that lovemaking when he cleared his throat and said, “There’s something I haven’t had a chance to tell you yet today.”
Was he going to start talking about Texas again? Because she still hadn’t decided if she was ready to leave everything she’d accomplished here—even a budding new relationship with his parents—and move so far away. “What?”
“Someone delivered an envelope to me at the job site today. It was a note from Jack Crosby. I don’t know why he chose to approach me that way.”
She lifted her head, blinking at him in the shadows, trying to see his expression. “What did it say?”
“Just that he would like to meet me—and you and Tyler, too. He expressed regrets that we haven’t met before this, and said he would like the chance to do so now. He said he’s glad Tyler’s going to be okay, and that he’ll make sure his other four kids are warned about the possibility of themselves or their offspring inheriting the condition. And he said there’s some more family medical history he could tell me, if I’m interested.”
“It sounds very…cordial.”
“Exactly. I wouldn’t be surprised if he dictated it to a secretary.”
“He’s a powerful businessman. He’s probably accustomed to people doing what he asks.”
“He’s going to find out I won’t be one of the people who jumps at his bidding.”
“So you aren’t going to meet with him?” she asked, careful to keep any emotion out of her voice.
He hesitated a long while before answering. “I haven’t decided yet. I can’t say I really want to get mixed up with the Crosbys, but then again, Tyler has the right to know these other relatives. His aunts and uncles and cousins. I don’t want to be guilty of the same thing my folks did to me—withholding information that could come back to take him by surprise later.”
“How many half siblings do you have?”
“Four, according to the letter, two of each gender. They range in age from six years older than me to four years younger. That’s all I know about them.”
“You told me once that you always wished you had a brother. Now you have two of them.”
“I don’t know, Laurel. We’re all adults. They grew up together, but I would be a stranger to them. I can’t imagine they would welcome me warmly into the fold.”
“You never know. They could be delighted to meet their new brother.”
“Right. The one who was born somewhere between the four of them, only proving that dear old dad was a philanderer.”
“I’m sure they’ve already dealt with that. Didn’t your mother tell you he finally left his wife for another young mistress? I can’t imagine they would blame you.”
