Chapter 3

Jarrod barely slept that night and looked like it when he came down to breakfast. Ever-blunt Nick said it out loud. "You better deal with whatever's bothering you before you collapse under the weight of it."

"I'll deal with it today," Jarrod said just as bluntly. "Pass the coffee, please."

Jarrod had made up his mind and did not talk himself out of it on the way to town. He had to turn Neil Joseph down on this. There was no way he could make a baby with any woman he was not married to, much less a friend who was happily married to another friend. No matter what Neil said, no matter how much he and Clair believed everything would go swimmingly after conception, after the baby was born, as the child grew up as a Joseph child, Jarrod would know it was his child. To make matters worse, they wanted him to be guardian if anything happened to them. It was like dangling his own child over his head, just out of reach, but maybe not.

A colder thought followed that one. Given his history – given the black-hearted monster he so easily became when Beth was murdered – what would the temptation be if for him to become a real father to his own child? To take the Josephs being out of the way…

No, no, no, he couldn't bear that thought or that possibility. He no longer trusted himself to bear it. The Josephs had no idea what they were asking him to do. He had to turn them down.

Then he found Clair Joseph waiting in his office for him. Esther was already there, looking like she had tried to chat amiably with Clair but failed. Jarrod's heart crashed when he saw the look on Clair's face – hopeful but frightened, determined but uncomfortable. He really didn't know what she was going to say, but he knew he'd have to hear her out, and he really didn't want to hear, talk or even think about this anymore.

"Hello, Clair," he said as gentlemanly as he could muster. "Neil isn't with you?"

"No," Clair said, standing up. "I wanted to talk to you alone, if that's all right."

"Of course, come right in," Jarrod said and ushered her into his inner office. "Would you like some coffee?" he asked as he closed the door behind them.

"No," Clair said. "I won't take up much of your time."

Jarrod touched one of the chairs in front of his desk, inviting her to sit down, which she did. He took his chair behind his desk and got straight to the subject. "You want to talk about what Neil and I talked about yesterday."

"Yes," Clair said, and visibly sucked in her courage. "I know it was an outrageous thing to ask, but I thought maybe you should know something that Neil probably didn't tell you."

"What's that?" Jarrod asked.

"I want a child of my own very badly, so badly you can't imagine how devastated I was when Neil was injured. But I love him more than I want a child, and I will not leave him, ever. If you turn us down, it will not destroy our marriage, but it will hurt me very much. And for me, what we ask is not that outrageous, because – well, my mother was very much like I am. She wanted a baby of her own. She wanted to be with child, and to give birth, and to have the intimacy all that brings. So, she and my – father – asked a friend to do what Neil and I are asking you to do."

Jarrod felt again like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

But Clair went on. "The man I called my father could not have children of his own. He and my mother tried and tried and tried for years, and it didn't happen. In desperation – in as much desperation as Neil and I are in – they asked a dear friend to lie with my mother and give her a baby. They gave her me."

Jarrod knew Clair was an only child, but in his wildest dreams he couldn't imagine this.

Clair kept going. "I was told everything when I was old enough to understand. The man who gave my mother her baby was a close family friend." She smiled. "I knew him as Uncle Buck. His real name was Charles Fitzgibbons. He was a rancher near Merced."

Now Jarrod really perked up. "Charles Fitzgibbons? Isn't he still living?"

"Yes," Clair said. "My mother passed some time ago, but Uncle Buck still lives on his ranch. Well, his son owns and runs the ranch now but he still lives there. My mother and my father – the man I always considered my father – remained friends with Uncle Buck and Aunt Sally until my parents died, and Aunt Sally died not long after. Jarrod, it was an arrangement that worked. I was born and raised by two loving parents, and by a man I called my uncle who was wise enough to leave me to my legal parents but to continue to be part of my life. The arrangement worked because Uncle Buck is an intelligent, compassionate man. And so are you."

"Does Fitzgibbons know you're talking to me about this?"

"It was never a great secret. We didn't bring it up much, but many of my parents friends knew the truth, and Uncle Buck always knew that I knew."

Jarrod sighed, thinking. "Charles Fitzgibbons had two children with his wife Sally as I recall."

"Yes. David, who owns the ranch, and Jean, who married a banker in Merced."

"They are both older than you. Charles already had two children with his wife when you were born. When you were conceived."

"Yes, that's true, and both David and Jean know about everything. They know I am their half-sibling and they also know I make no claim to their inheritance. I am not a legal child of Charles Fitzgibbons and make no claim to be."

Now Jarrod's head was spinning with another thought. What if he gave Clair his child, and later that child DID want to make a claim to being a Barkley? Well, the family had handled that just fine when Heath came along. How would such a thing be different if it was his child who had always been around and always known his actual father was a Barkley? Would it be different? Would it be less a shock and a problem?

The thoughts added another layer of confusion for Jarrod, another possibility that didn't have a definite answer. But looking at Clair, Jarrod ached inside, partly because his resolve to turn the Josephs down was starting to fray, and he couldn't let it fray. It was too dangerous to let it fray. "Clair – I'm not a married man. I don't have my own children. I lost my wife to a murderer, and my situation just isn't anything like Charles Fitzgibbons's situation."

Jarrod could see Clair was trying hard not to cry. "I don't want tears to influence you, Jarrod," she said. "I just want – I just want you to consider fathering our baby, because Neil can't. I just want you to know that it can work. It worked with me. It can work with us."

"No," Jarrod said quickly, jumping up. "Clair, I can't do it. If you're insisting on it, you're going to have to ask someone else."

Clair stood slowly. "Jarrod, we don't know who else to ask. The Barkleys are the most solid people in Stockton."

Jarrod jumped to a conclusion, horrified. "Clair, how can you possibly entangle any of my brothers in this if I turn you down? Clair, don't you understand what you're asking of me? Getting one of my brothers involved in this is the same as getting me involved, and I won't do it!"

His anger made Clair start to cry. "Jarrod, I wasn't suggesting your brothers! You just don't understand!"

"No, I don't!" Jarrod blasted. "Stop asking me to understand, because I can't! And if you don't want me to bring this notion up with my family, don't approach any of them! Now, go home! Tell Neil I won't have anything to do with this! Go!"

He had never thrown a woman out of his office before, but now he couldn't control himself. Clair left in tears, and Jarrod practically knocked everything off his desk in anger. Then he looked up and saw Esther standing in the doorway. He sagged.

"Are you all right, Mr. Barkley?" Esther asked.

Jarrod sighed. "Esther, I don't know," was all he could think to say. His head was starting to pound and he wanted to smash something again.

Esther looked like she was afraid to say anything else. She had never seen her boss this angry before.

Jarrod sighed again, trying to control himself. "Esther, I'm going to head home. If you need me, that's where I'll be." Then he noticed the mess he made and sighed one more time.

Esther said, "Go on, Mr. Barkley. I'll clean up in here."

One last sigh and sag. "Thank you, Esther," he said, and he grabbed his hat and left.