Page 97 of Sterling Touch
It never made sense. Why would a man who didn’t want to be a father acknowledge Mother’s Day for me. For that fact, why would he bother sending gifts on his son’s birthday when he didn’t want to know his child. Yet, I’d never given it a second thought. In my refusal to believe Ken was a bad man, I’d given him too much credit as a good one.
Continuing to stare at Cort, he finally lifts his head. His eyes are a storm of emotion. Struggling with the whirlwind spiraling inside myself, I can’t read his expression. Out of all the questions I have, I settle on one.
“Why?” My voice remains quiet but filled with confusion.
Cort shifts his eyes away from mine. “For a while, I thought Hudson might be mine.”
“What?” I whisper again.
“When I finally got my head out of my ass, and learned you had a child, I did the math. The timing felt about right. A March baby, counting backward, landed roughly in June. It made sense, but I also believed you’d tell me if Hudson was mine.” Cort levels me with a serious stare. “Even though I’d fucked up, made an ass of myself by the Falls and all, you’d have told me.”
I nod, assuring him I’d never have kept a secret like thisfrom him. Even with fear of Stone’s disappointment, I would have never kept Hudson from Cort, if I believed in my soul, he was Cort’s child.
A piece of honesty falls out of my mouth before I can stop myself. “I wanted him to be your son.”
At first, I’d hoped Hudson did belong to Cort, giving me a permanent reminder of him.
“But he isn’t.” I’d been a little hussy that summer andI’ddone the math. Conception was closer to the fling with Ken than the morning with Cort.
Cort nods to accept the hard truth and another thought hits me.
“March?” I continue watching Cort. “How did you even know his birthday was at the end of March?”
“Trinity.” Cort’s sister works in the NICU at the local hospital, but before moving into the specialized department, she worked the regular maternity ward, where I had Hudson. She hadn’t been my nurse, but there was no doubt she would have known of his birth.
“So, if Ken never sent Mother’s Day presents. He also never sent Hudson . . .”birthday ones either.
Cort is already shaking his head, lowering his gaze once more. And I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.I’m so stupid.
Instead, I stand from my stool and round the island, extending my hand toward Cort. He twists, leaning his hip against the counter, and stares down at my offered hand a second, before glancing at me. He doesn’t take my hand but instead continues to watch me.
“Aren’t you mad?”
“Mad? No, anger is not the emotion I feel.” Am I upset that he’s been keepingthissecret all these years? Was I a little stung that the gifts hadn’t come from Ken? The answer to both was overruled by the immediate understanding that Cort had beentrying to atone for what he considered a shameful moment by celebrating both Hudson and me. My son’s birth and the honor of being his mother.
I wasn’t mad. I was overwhelmed by emotion for this man. Ten years. Eleven, if I included Hudson’s recent birthday. Mentally, I flip back through the gifts in my head. A Tennessee Terrors little slugger baseball onesie. Cort’s favorite team. A tee-ball mitt. A pair of baseball cleats. And this year’s gift, a pair of tickets to a Terrors versus Anchors game.
“Take my hand, Cort,” I instruct, my voice quiet, knowing the only way I can show this man my gratitude and appreciation. My forgiveness for something he doesn’t need to be forgiven for.
Cort still doesn’t reach for me. Instead, he stands upright.
“Hold that thought.” He holds up a finger to emphasize his point before he disappears down the hallway and then comes back with a small square box tied with a ribbon in his hand.
“What’s this?”
“Year eleven,” he whispers, staring down at the box he presents to me.
Hesitantly, I take the gift, pull the ribbon, and slip the lid from the top. Inside is something labeled a bee revival kit along with a bee ID tag.
“It holds bee food syrup for tired bees.”
I flip the item, but my eyes don’t register the instructions. It’s like I’ve forgotten how to read, and I glance back at Cort who gives a soft shrug before slipping his hands in his jeans’ pockets.
“It reminded me of you. Your sweetness has revived me and brought me back to life.”
My eyes instantly water.
“I should have given it to you a while back, I just didn’t know how?—”
