The Newcomer (Thunder Point #2)(44)

Before he broke down and cried like a girl, he stood up and left the room. He was barely out the door when, standing right in front of him was a handsome little boy. Kind of small for ten, just like Cooper had been.

“You him?” he asked. “You my real dad?”

Cooper smiled. “Not exactly,” he said. “I’m kind of your alternate dad.” Then he ruffled the boy’s hair. “You have a pretty good dad on stage right now—I wouldn’t want to get in the way of that. But if you need me...”

“He’s a teacher,” Austin said. “And a coach, too. He’s good with homework.”

“Excellent reason to keep him around,” Cooper said. He looked up. All eyes were on him. Parents, grandparents, siblings, kids.

“Come on, Cooper,” Spencer said. “This will take two seconds, then you can do whatever you want. Stay, go, whatever.”

He noticed Spencer had a small box in his hand—the kit.

“Let’s just step back in the study.”

Spencer gave the inside of his cheek a wipe with a swab, slipped it in a sterile tube and closed the envelope around it.

“Do you sleep on that cot by the bed?” Cooper asked.

He nodded. “Sometimes she’s needs to be held. Sometimes just the opposite. I’m on a leave from work. I try to be around.”

“I’m glad she found you, Spencer,” Cooper said. “I’m glad they both did.”

* * *

Cooper got himself a hotel room not too far from the Cunningham household. He went out for some takeout, a bottle of single malt, a bucket of ice and after eating something he made himself a stiff drink and called Sarah. He talked to her for an hour and a half without telling her about Austin. He lied instead—he said that Bridget wanted to talk about their past, make sure he was okay with everything and say goodbye. He had given this decision about five minutes of thought first, deciding that if the DNA test came back pointing to him, that was soon enough to explain. He did say that it made him very sad, that he couldn’t imagine going through something like that. And it was Sarah who had many questions about his relationship with Bridget, how they got along, what their relationship was like before they broke up and he found that reminiscing actually seemed to help. It was late and he might’ve been a little drunk when he fell asleep. His cell phone woke him and the clock said 2:00 a.m.

“Sorry about the time,” Spencer said. “Bridget is no longer with us. I thought you’d want to know.”

“When?”

“About four hours ago. It takes a long time to have a body picked up, even when you’re expecting it and all the arrangements are in place. Then there was her mom and Austin....”

“How’s he doing? Austin?”

“He’s finally asleep. I think he’ll be all right. We’re all just glad she can rest now. Rest without pain. She’ll be cremated and we’ll have a service on Monday.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Cooper asked.

“I got it, Cooper. If you’re still in the area, you’re welcome to attend. And I understand completely if you’d rather not. It’s entirely up to you. Service at St. Bethel on Anniversary Avenue and at 2:00 p.m. an open house at the Cunninghams’. And of course, I’ll have the test results forwarded to you.”

“Thanks. And Spencer, I’m sorry, man.”

“We had some good years,” he said. And then he said goodbye.

Cooper knocked around for three days. He drove to Ft. Hood and although he wasn’t allowed on the post, he did visit some of his old stomping grounds—bars and restaurants he’d frequented when he was there. He went to the San Antonio River Walk and the Alamo, wishing Sarah was with him. It was no surprise that he remembered being on the walk with Bridget, eating at a sidewalk café, drinking beer or a latte at a small table on the walk, watching people and boats pass by.

He booked a flight back to Eugene for Tuesday morning, but he didn’t go to the service on Monday. The memorial was for family and close friends; he didn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. Instead, he pressed his suit and dress shirt and went to the Cunningham house at about two-thirty.

There were cars parked all the way down the street and he caught sight of a couple entering the house, carrying what appeared to be a covered dish. Sitting on the front step with a baseball and glove was Austin, looking real down in the dumps. He went to the boy, sat down beside him and asked, “Hard day, huh?”

The boy shrugged. “It sure ain’t no fun in there.” He looked up. “I’m waitin’ for my dad. I mean, my other dad.”

“I bet he’s kind of busy today.”

Austin looked up at Cooper and identical brown eyes connected. “Did you ever wish’t you married my mom?”

Cooper was stunned by the question, then wondered why he’d been surprised. Chances were good there would be lots of questions like that. He decided on honesty. “I did,” he said. “It took me a long time to see that Spencer was the better man for her. He was ready to settle down, like your mom was. And I was sorry I wasn’t ready for that kind of responsibility. I might’ve lost out, but at least you didn’t, Austin. He’s a good guy.”

“My mom said you’re a good guy, too.”

Cooper shrugged. “I’m better now than I was ten years ago. Older. Smarter a little bit. Want me to throw that ball around with you?” he asked, nodding at the ball.