Chapter Twelve

Sarah indicated for the boy to sit on the sofa, and she went to the side chair, where her sketch book was. Her hands trembled as she picked up the book, to sit down; she felt sick to her stomach. She looked at the child and saw again the resemblance she had seen in the hallway. This boy could be Alden's older brother.

That thought gave her pause – maybe the boy was really Nick's? Heaven knows the man had been as wild as they had come, from the stories she had heard. Her heart sank though – the lawyer had brought the boy here. Which meant he had specific information that Heath was the father. Sarah stared at the child and tried to gauge how old he was to figure out just when Heath had conceived the boy.

She gave up the mental math because in the end it would not matter – this boy was Heath's son. Sarah knew how important sons were to men. Her father, as he had doted on her after her brothers had been killed in the war, did not hold her in the same regard. Adam too, even as he had barely seen his son for a week before his crazed wife had killed him, still talked with pride about the boy.

A wave of weary exhaustion overcame her, as she saw exactly what was ahead of her. Heath would welcome and acknowledge the boy – Sarah had seen how envious he had been of Nick and Audra's boys. A cold unwelcome thought came to her – maybe this boy was the result of a long-term liaison? She knew that most men kept mistresses; she had not thought Heath the type. However, Sarah thought about all his trips to Mexico and Colorado – oh god the boy only spoke Spanish!

Just as her nails were digging into the palms of her hand so hard to draw blood, that thought brought her back to her senses. Sarah sat up very straight and took a deep breath, realizing what a godsend the child really was. As the plan began to form in her mind, she almost wanted to laugh at how easy it could be.

Sarah stood up and walked over to the far corner of the room, where a Louis XV cabinet with fine inlaid marquetry stood. She had found it in a secondhand furniture shop in San Francisco and bought it immediately. It reminded her of the pieces in her old house in St. Louis; Heath had not cared for it, but let it slide.

She took pleasure in opening the prettily decorated doors and carefully studied the bottles of liquors and cognacs. There was shelf with different types of glasses, for each type of pre- and post-diner drinks. She found the bottle of fine French cognac – Remy St. Martin 1850.

It had been a gift from Adam, and Sarah had stealthy hidden it at the back of the shelf. It was what she and Adam drank at night before bed; she had no interest in sharing it with Heath. Adam, when he had presented it to her, had stated that he wanted her to think of him when she drank it, in Stockton. The memory caused her to smile – it was one of so many jokes and happy times they shared.

One of the biggest revelations about her relationship with Adam was how easy and lighthearted it was – so unlike her relationship with Heath. That was all careful deliberation and a going over of to-do lists that Heath deemed important. Sarah, as she poured herself a glass of cognac felt her lip curl as she thought about what Heath thought was important. It had nothing to do with her consideration or comfort unless it dovetailed to his interest.

Sarah took a generous swallow of the fine cognac, and then looked over with ill-concealed distaste at the boy on the sofa. He might be Heath's son, but she was not going to raise him! Adam had been begging her to divorce Heath, but she had been worried about it affecting his business. She did not want to be in the wrong, for wanting to end the marriage; however clearly Heath expecting her to raise his illegitimate son would put him in the wrong.

She knew that there would be people who would expect her to stand by her husband no matter what and accept the child. Sarah also knew that arrangements were routinely made to cover this kind of mistake – a boarding school was the most common. Heath though did not have other sons and would not send this one away. However, Sarah was not some downtrodden wife to be walked on by her husband.

Neither would be she the object of people's pity or scorn, for taking the child in. Sarah could hear the comments about how she could not give Heath a son, so she had to raise his bastard. Society was going to condemn her no matter what she did, so why should not she at least get something out of the predicament.

The smile that formed on her face was dripping with self-satisfaction, and she finished the brandy and went to sit back down. Sarah regarded the child – pale of face and dark auburn hair – with a condensing glare. He was pitiful, but he was her ticket out of her marriage and the hateful house she wanted to be done with. Sarah knew that she only had a small window, to get the better of Heath and the upper hand in the situation.

Heath and the lawyer came into the room, breaking her thoughts; she sat there perfectly still as the older man said his goodbyes. Sarah felt like her blood had frozen, and her limbs turned to stone – she could not move. Heath and the boy followed the lawyer out of the room, and Sarah wondered if maybe they would all leave together? Her mind was as frozen as the rest of her, making her feel paralyzed. Only the after taste of the brandy brought her to her senses – Adam's brandy – and if she wanted a future with him, she had to summon every ounce of courage.

"Sarah, let's go to the kitchen and get Simon some food and then we can talk." Heath came back into the room, holding the boy in his arms. The look on his face made it clear to Sarah that he was ready to acknowledge his son.

"No. No." Sarah stood up stiff and straight, her voice ringing around the room. "I will not be a party to your misalliance Heath Barkley, and neither will I raise the offspring of the affair."

"It isn't like that!" Heath tried to explain. "Let's get Simon taken care of and then we can talk." He hated hearing the pleading note in his voice, as the child's arms clutched tighter around his neck. It was not just about him anymore; he had a child to think of and care for.

"We get Simon taken care of" Sarah mocked as she walked to the window and turned her back for a moment. "You really don't expect me to be part of this?" She whirled to face him, and he saw cold fury in her eyes.

"I can explain everything, please." Heath was torn between wanting to placate Sarah and take care of Simon.

"Oh really? As in Sarah this is the son of my mistress – you couldn't give me a child but another woman could." Her voice was dripping with sarcasm, and Heath realized everything was spinning out of his control. "As if I would want to be the object of pity and laughter by everyone in Stockton!"

"It wasn't like that! It was a onetime thing many years ago, before I even met you." Heath felt attacked and retorted quickly, not thinking about the implication of his statement. Sarah thought did not miss the reference.

"Quaint! Clearly the apple doesn't fall far from the tree in your case." Sarah sniffed disdainfully, before a sneering look over came her features. "Quite frankly for the sake of gossip I would stick to the mistress story. It paints you in a better light. How interesting that your brothers have never brought home illegitimate children only you."

"Please don't do this now!" Heath put Simon down and started to walk over to Sarah, even as his blood was roiling at the accusations she had made. Yes, she was mad, and he didn't blame her; however this wasn't the time for discussion, with Simon present.

"Don't come near me." Sarah's voice rose several octaves, as she reached over and picked up a horse figurine on the table. She hurled it with force, and it narrowly missed his head; the gesture caused him to stop in his tracks. The splintering of the porcelain against the wall resonated around the room and Heath noticed that Simon was now trembling. He felt so helpless, wanting to take care of his son, but also understanding how betrayed Sarah felt.

"You and that boy need to leave now!" Sarah snarled, looking at him with hate and fury. "Go to your mother – she has lots of experience in this area." Those words were delivered in a cold, hard tone. "I do not want to be under the same roof as you and your son. I will leave tomorrow for San Francisco, and the next communication you have from me will be via my divorce lawyer!"

Sarah picked up another decorative figurine and threw it; Heath was sure just for added emphasis. He looked over at Simon and saw sheer terror in the boy's eyes; it made him realize that he needed to leave right now. He picked his son up and took him into the hall, where he gave him a quick squeeze on his shoulder.

Heath then went into the study and pulled together the files, letters, and medallion that Senor Delgado had left him. He put them into the leather folio he used for business and while travelling; the last thing he wanted was for Sarah to get hold of them. They were his son's birthright, and he needed to protect them.

When he came back into the entrance hall, he saw the boy standing there, in shorts and knee socks, holding a small brown leather suitcase. Heath saw how the boy looked at him, scared even as he was trying to pretend he wasn't.

"Simon, we are going to go meet my – and your – family." He gave the boy a hug, as he went on "Silas will have dinner, and we can all get a good night's sleep." Heath had said the words in Spanish and he saw that Simon looked a little happier.

He left the surrey for Sarah, so she could leave tomorrow morning. He saddled Charger, and lifted Simon along with his suitcase up to the saddle. Heath kept several changes of clothes in his old room at the Big House – on more than one occasion he had been forced to spend the night because of his work schedule. Right now though, his main priority was getting Simon dinner, and a place to sleep.

It took not even ten minutes to come up the road to the Big House, but Simon had dozed off as soon as they started moving. Heath reined in his horse as the rode through the entrance gates; whitewashed brick towers supporting finely wrought iron gates and an arch – all engraved with the Barkley brand. There were torches on either side of the gate, providing light for visitors to see where they were going.

"Simon, we are here." Heath nudged the boy awake, saying the words in Spanish. The boy woke up, and looked around, his eyes going wide when he saw the large white horse with the columned porch. He said something in Spanish, and Heath smiled even as a weariness overcame him. The events of the last hour, and Sara's reaction had been overwhelming.

Now he had a tired, hungry child to take care of, who only spoke Spanish. Further, he started to wonder how he was going to raise the boy by himself; Sarah had made it plain that he would be on his own. Heath felt his mind racing, as he thought about everything the boy would need – and what about school?

"Let's get inside." Heath focused on the here and now, that Simon needed dinner and sleep. Arriving at the entrance one of the hands came out to take care of his horse. Heath dismounted, and then helped Simon and his suitcase down. He found it interesting how tightly the boy clung to the bag but understood that it was his connection to his old life.

As he and the boy walked up to the front door his heart and stomach clenched tightly. Sarah's sneering words rang in his ears Quaint! Clearly the apple does not fall from the tree in your case Heath saw how she had succinctly stated the whole issue.

Heath wondered how his family would react to Simon, and to him bringing the child to them. He swallowed hard and remembered that the Barkley's were always compassionate to those in need. It was hard to acknowledge that he needed help, but Heath reminded himself that it was not just about him anymore – there was Simon now.

He knocked on the brass knocker and waited for Silas to come to the door. On one level he knew he could just walk into the house and announce his presence; Simon though had changed all that. His arrival was going to drag the family into scandal and innuendo – would they stand with him?

"Mr. Heath, welcome! Why are you knocking?' Silas opened the door, resplendent in his evening uniform of black waistcoat. The entrance hall was bright with well-lit scones, and an elaborate floral arrangement on the mahogany pedestal table. The gold damask wallpaper was offset by bright green ferns in oriental planters on finely carved stands.

Heath felt Simon tighten the grip on his hand, and he looked down at his son – his son. The boy's eyes were wide, and an incredulous look was on his face as Simon looked around the hall. Thinking back to Baron's Inn, where the boy had lived, Heath understood what a shock a house like this could appear.

Simon suddenly leaned against him, and Heath looked up to see his family come into the front hall. Victoria and Priscilla were dressed up, Jarrod was wearing a finely woven crimson brocade vest that contrasted with his white linen ruffled shirt. Nick was dressed more like Heath was, but with his favorite leather vest. Heath looked over at the clock and realized they had just finished eating dinner.

"Good evening everyone." Heath announced, looking Victoria straight in the eye. "This is Simon – my son – and we need somewhere to stay."