Chapter 2

Heath sat in Jarrod's office in Stockton, in the chair in front of Jarrod's desk, looking at the papers in front of him. Jarrod sat behind his desk, looking at Heath. Neither one of them spoke, but Jarrod could read Heath's eyes very clearly. Heath would read a little, then look away, then read some more, then look away again. Jarrod knew indecision when he saw it, and he didn't want to rush anything. He had known for more than a year that this was probably the biggest decision Heath would ever make in his life, even bigger than the one that brought him to Stockton to fight for his heritage as a Barkley. When he first came and told them he intended to fight for the name, that was one thing. Putting it down on paper, for legal, for good, forever – that was something else entirely.

And there was more. Jarrod said, "Charlie Sawyer spooked you good, didn't he?"

Heath was almost startled. In the back of his mind, he had almost forgotten that Jarrod was even there. "No," Heath said. "I spooked me good. I let doubt get into my head."

"And doubt is hard to root out," Jarrod said. "Do you honestly still doubt your parentage?"

Heath thought about the dressing down he'd gotten from Victoria just after Charlie Sawyer confessed he wasn't Heath's father as he had claimed, just after the old con man died. "No, I don't doubt that Tom Barkley was my father," Heath said and meant it. "And I don't doubt that you are my family."

"I hope it's not our love and devotion to you that you doubt," Jarrod said.

"No," Heath said quickly. "No, Jarrod, no, not at all. I don't know what I'm doubting. Myself, I guess."

"Why?" Jarrod asked. "Just because you acted like an idiot there for a while you think you don't deserve to be a Barkley somehow?"

Heath looked up at Jarrod's light smile. He knew when he was being teased. "No, I don't think that's it either. It's just a really big step to change your name. I mean, a name is something really important."

Jarrod had yet to face the time when he'd lose his memory and his name and he'd come to know how right Heath was. That was still a month or two away. But he knew a name was important, even if he had yet to feel it as deeply as Heath was feeling it now. "It's your name, Heath," Jarrod said. "Whether you use it or not, it's your name. All this does is file it at the courthouse."

"No, it's more than that," Heath said. "I sign this, and I'm somebody else's son. I'm Victoria Barkley's son."

"You'll never be any less Leah Thomson's son," Jarrod said.

"I know," Heath said. He got up and paced to the other side of the room. "Jarrod, it's not that I don't feel a part of the family. All right, I was stupid there for a while and didn't feel that way, but I know I shouldn't have. What was it Mother said – if not by blood by work and love?"

"By work, love, sacrifice, and blood, Heath," Jarrod said. "But if you're not ready to sign this, then you're not ready to sign it."

Heath looked up into Jarrod's eyes. He didn't even see any disappointment there. Jarrod was willing to accept whatever he thought, whatever he decided, and Jarrod would still love him and treat him as a brother. But what about Victoria? If he didn't sign these papers, would she feel it as a rejection? Especially after that dressing down she gave him, would she be hurt? And God, he didn't want to hurt her.

Jarrod saw Heath's hesitation was deep and real. He got up, approached his younger brother, and put a hand on his shoulder. "If you need to think about this some more, we'll understand."

Heath wasn't sure he wanted to risk that Victoria wouldn't understand. He made a decision. "Jarrod, would you tell everyone that I had to go away for a couple days?"

"Go where?" Jarrod asked, though he thought he knew.

"I want to go up to Strawberry," Heath said. "I want to visit my mother's grave again."

"If you think she has an answer for you, by all means, go."

"Don't tell anybody why I'm going," Heath said. "Don't tell them I'm having trouble signing the papers."

"They'll figure it out, Heath."

"I don't want Mother to have to hear the words."

Jarrod understood. He nodded. "All right. I'll just tell them you went up there because of what happened with Charlie and you wanted to apologize to your mother for doubting her word, or something like that."

"Mother will never believe that, will she?"

Jarrod chuckled a little. "Mother sees right through me every time. But I won't say the words you don't want me to say. Just make sure you come back to me here and sign these papers before you go home to her."

"You're sure I'm going to sign them."

"Oh, I'm positive you will," Jarrod said. "Leah will tell you to."

XXXXXXXX

It was only a few hours later that Heath knelt at his mother's grave and smiled a little, remembering Jarrod saying "Leah will tell you to" sign the adoption papers. For a moment he almost felt stupid for coming up here, because he could hear his mother – his birth mother – saying the same sort of things Victoria had said to him when Charlie Sawyer died. "You prideful dope" especially rang in his ears. And yes, that's what he had been through this whole thing with Charlie Sawyer.

He shook his head. "Mother, I'm sorry I doubted you about Tom Barkley. I don't know what I was thinking. I guess I was just afraid. Mother, I've been with the Barkleys for a year, and I wanted so much to be a Barkley that I was afraid it wasn't true and I acted the way my fears directed me to. And that's not who you raised me to be."

He sat down on the ground and thought some more. Victoria's face came into his mind's eye. "She's a fine woman, Mother. I'm almost afraid of something else – of how much she's feeling like a mother to me. I'm afraid if I let that happen, it would be an insult to you."

"You prideful dope," he heard in his head again. Then he heard more. "Do you think I would have told you who your father was if I didn't want you to find his family and be a part of it? I knew Tom, and through him I knew his family. I knew they were good people and they'd look after you after I was gone. Don't you know that's what I wanted for you – you prideful dope?"

Heath actually laughed now. A soft wind rustled his hair, like she used to do when he was a little boy.

"Heath?"

He actually heard a voice now, a real voice, and he got up, knowing who it was. He turned and found her a few feet away, holding some late summer flowers. He grinned. "Hello, Hannah."

"My, what are you doin' back here already?" Hannah asked. "You was just here!"

Heath gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Just sorting some things out, Hannah. I saw Charlie Sawyer, and we straightened everything out, but he's dead now."

"Oh," she said, looking perplexed. "I thought he was dead a long time ago. You saw him?"

"I saw him," Heath said and left it at that. Hannah would have some difficulty remembering what he was telling her about Charlie anyway. For her, he'd always be dead long ago.

Hannah bent and put the flowers on Leah's grave. "I like to come put flowers here when I have some in my garden."

"Thank you for that, Hannah," Heath said.

"You gonna stay here for a while?"

"No," Heath said with a sigh. "I have to go back to Stockton and attend to some things." There were papers to sign.

"Well," Hannah said. "I'm glad you come by, anyway. Your mama, she'd be so glad you found you a home in Stockton."

"The Barkleys are good people," Heath said. "They're a good family to be part of."

"I do believe you," Hannah said. "And Miss Leah, she knows that, too."

Heath looked down at his mother's grave. "I know she does. She told me."