Page 57 of Point of Mercy

“Why?”

“’Cause I’m your father.”

Adam’s brow beetled, and he sent Heather a glance that said he thought Turner had lost his marbles.“Already got a dad.”

“And you don’t want another one.”

“Can only have one,” he said, in simple five-year-old terms. Having set the older man straight, he took a big bite from his sandwich.

“Well, that’s not necessarily true. Lots of people get married and divorced these days.”

“My mom and dad are divorced.”

“Right. But they may remarry, and when they do, you’ll have a stepfather and a stepmother.”

Adam chewed his ham sandwich thoughtfully. “So you’re gonna marry Mom. Right?”

Turner’s jaw slid to the side and Heather hardly dared breathe. “I don’t think she’d have me,” he said, and cast Heather a look that melted her insides.

“So how can you be my dad?”

“Your mom and I knew each other a long time ago,” Turner said carefully, his voice oddly distant. “And…well, we fell in love, I guess, and she ended up pregnant with you, but I was far away. So she married the man you call your father.”

“Heismy father,” Adam insisted, and Turner’s muscles tightened a bit.

We fell in love? Heather wished she could believe the fairy tale he was spinning. Talk about lies! Turner was staring at his son, and Adam, arms crossed importantly over his chest, wasn’t listening to any more of this craziness. He knew who his father was.

“I’m your pa, too,” Turner told his boy.

Adam snorted. “Can’t have more than one.”

Don’t argue with him,Heather silently pleaded, and for once Turner used his head.

“Sometimes things aren’t so cut-and-dried. I know it’ll take a little getting used to and you might still want to call me Turner, and that’s okay.” Turner’s voice had thickened, and he looked down at the boy with an expression of concern and tenderness. “But I want you to know that I really am your pa.”

Adam just shook his head and swallowed a drink of grape soda. When he set down the can, his lips were a pale shade of purple. He eyed Turner and Heather with unhidden suspicion. Obviously, he thought the grown-ups around him had lost any lick of common sense they’d been born with.

Heather ruffled her son’s hair, letting the silky strands tickle her fingers. She forced words past her lips she hadn’t planned on uttering for years. “He’s telling you the truth, Adam. Turner is your dad.” Looking at Turner, Heather smiled. Somehow this felt right.

“And what about Daddy?” Adam asked belligerently. His entire world had been turned upside down.

“He’s your daddy, too. Your stepdaddy.”

“I don’t get it,” he complained.

Heather offered him a tender smile. “Don’t worry about it. Turner just wanted you to understand when he tells people you’re his son why he’s saying it.”

“Sounds crazy to me,” Adam said, but didn’t seem much concerned one way or the other. There was just too much to do here, too much to explore to worry about grown-up things. He left his sandwich half-eaten and ignored three quarters of his soda.

Turner, radiating pride, stared at the boy who was his son,and Heather felt the urge to kiss him, not with passion, but just to let him know that she appreciated the fact that he cared, actually cared, for his son. After so many years of Dennis’s apathy, Turner’s concern, though irritating sometimes, was a breath of fresh air. At least now, if anything happened to her, Adam would be with a parent who loved him. What more could she ask?

They ate in companionable silence, eating and watching their boy play in the tall grass while the sun lowered and a breeze laden with clover and honeysuckle danced through the dry leaves of the oak tree. Sunlight dappled the ground, shifting as the leaves rustled in the wind. The silence grew between them, and Turner rubbed his chin thoughtfully, as if wrestling with an inner dilemma.

Well, God knew, they had their share.

“Adam brought up an interesting point,” Turner said quietly.

“Which is?” she hardly dared ask.

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