His Secret Son

By Betty Jane Sanders

FATHER IN THE MAKING

Matt Gray a father? A rugged loner in a wilderness home wasn't cut out for that kind of tenderness. But when pretty Amy Sutherland showed up with her little boy, Matt began to wonder. Could this child, with eyes so like his own, be his?

Amy Sutherland was a woman with a mission: to reunite the child in her care with the father he needed. She wasn't about to give up on Matt Gray despite his grumpy denials. But first she had to convince the stubborn mountain man that there was more to life than loneliness there was love .

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Jul 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9781460880968

Betty Jane Sanders

Betty Monthei grew up in Oregon and Washington where she had ample opportunity to hike, horseback ride, and fall in love with animals and the natural world. She met her husband Lee while in high school. They married in the fall after graduation many years ago. They were and still are best friends. She and Lee moved to Alaska in 1980 in search of adventure "for a couple of years" and lived there until November of 2007, other than a one year hiatus spent on the remote island of Phonpei, Micronesia. Betty was owned by two dogs: Brittany, an English springer spaniel, and Annie, a golden retriever, (pictured) but sadly Brittany and Annie have gone to doggie heaven. She is now owned by another Springer Spaniel, Missy (short for Mischief), and a Cocker-spaniel cross, Charlie; not pictured. In 2007 Betty moved to Canada, and spent five and a half years in the province of Alberta, just outside of Edmonton. In July 2013 she moved to the Duluth, Minnesota area. Seems she just cannot escape long cold winters!

Book preview

Chapter One

Matt braced himself against the wind, standing on the deck of his house much as he would his boat, legs spread wide, head lifted. Wind sliced through his wool shirt, carrying a cool bite, a hint of rain and the tang of salt air.

Alone. The thought came, unbidden, unwanted. He frowned, gripped the cool damp cedar rail with his large hands and shoved the thought away, concentrating instead on the sweet pungent odor of damp earth that seemed to surround him.

Spring. Matt drew in a deep breath, savoring the odor, as well as the knowledge that sap again ran in the trees after the long, dark winter. Wind gusted, whipping and bending the branches, rushing through budding young leaves to send them on a frantic dance. A flock of geese cried overhead; dark, long-necked silhouettes traveling in V formation to the marsh at the edge of town where they would settle for the summer to nest, mate and raise their young.

A welling of deep loneliness swept Matt with an intensity that shocked him. He muttered an oath in protest.

Being alone was nothing new, he thought, suddenly angry. It seemed he’d always been alone, even before turning sixteen, when he’d left home and journeyed to Alaska, searching for wilderness, adventure and a place where he would fit in. He’d found all three.

So what was the problem?

There wasn’t one.

He was only suffering from cabin fever, a common affliction this time of year.

He turned his attention back to Valdez Arm, a part of Prince William Sound, which lay five hundred feet below. Wind whipped the steel gray water, curling it, pulling white fingers from the top of each swell. Restless. Always moving. It was almost as if she were waiting for him, Matt thought with a smile. Waiting to wage her war, to match her wit with his, to try to keep what he sought—the rich salmon for which Alaska was famed. So far, he had won most of the battles.

And soon another fishing season would begin, filled with exhausting days, hard physical labor and good honest work he enjoyed. Restless energy surged through him. It won’t be long, he reminded himself, curbing the surge of energy.

Shadow stirred at his feet. Matt straightened from the rail, unconsciously dropping his hand to dig into the thick fur behind her ear. The husky groaned with appreciation, leaning her seventy-pound frame into Matt’s leg.

A blast of wind flattened Shadow’s ears, bringing with it the promised rain and an additional burden of wet, heavy snow. Matt and the dog moved as if one, off the deck, around the corner of the house, to the front door.

He pushed the door open, shook rain from his jacket before hanging it in the closet. Deep empty silence reached out in embrace, settling like a thick quilt across his shoulders. Matt gave it a mental shove as he walked into the kitchen, filled Shadow’s bowl and watched as she crunched the dry food down in a matter of minutes.

Rain pounded the metal roof. Wind moaned under the eaves and through the trees. Matt could almost feel the house shudder under the weight of the storm. It was a night meant to be home, safe and dry, not out on the water braced against the roll of waves or the pound of wind-driven chop.

He built a fire, listened to the new Yanni CD he had purchased while in Anchorage over the weekend, and read a little. When evening finally lengthened into late night, he turned the living room light off and made his way into the bedroom to undress and slip beneath the covers.

Shadow’s nails clicked against the hardwood floor as she padded into the room. She grunted and huffed, nosing her blanket into a comfortable nest, then finally settling, face tucked beneath tail, a puddle of silver circled next to the bed.

Night washed over them. Matt lay on his back, listening to the soft snores of the dog blend with the grumble of the storm raging outside.

Is this all I have to look forward to? he wondered.

Yes, he answered immediately.

It was enough.

He rolled to his side and slept as wind moaned under the eaves.

I don’t like it. Nathan stuck his lower lip out as they pulled to a stop in front of the building.

It will only be for a couple of hours. Amy reached over and smoothed fine blond hair from his brow. We talked about it and you said it would be okay, remember? Just until I get a couple of errands finished?

Nathan crossed his arms and shot her a frown. His lower lip trembled. But why can’t I come with you? I will be good, I promise.

You just can’t, Nathan. I have grown-up things to do. It will be a lot better if you stay here. Amy sighed, glancing at his angry face. Please? For me?

But day-care is for babies. His voice shook, filled with the anguish and indignation of an insulted six-year-old.

No, it’s not, Amy argued. Lots of parents have to work. There will be children your age. Come on, you’ll see. She coaxed a smile out of him. She did not want to leave him in a strange day-care a couple hours after they had arrived in Valdez, but she could not tell him that. And she could not take him with her. He reluctantly followed as she entered the building.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that several children about Nathan’s age played out back, the air filled with their shouts and laughter. In a matter of minutes she completed the paperwork, and watched as Nathan walked outside toward the swings. She hated to leave him but did not have a choice.

What she had to do next was going to be hard enough. She did not need to have Nathan along.

Tension clutched her stomach and twisted it into tight knots of apprehension as she drove to the harbor.

You should have called, the voice of doubt scolded.

I couldn’t, she argued back.

Then written.

No. I had to do it this way. It would have been too easy for him to ignore a letter or a phone call.

Well, I sure hope you know what you are doing. He might not even be there.

He’ll be there, she muttered aloud, and with that, pulled to a stop in a parking spot.

Excitement filled the air and seemed to hang over the harbor like a bright cloud. People strode by with a purposefulness that made Amy feel in the way. They spared her only a quick smile or a curious glance. Boats of every type and make, tops bristling with antennae, spread below her in the harbor. Large and small, motor boats, sailboats, workboats, barge types, fishing boats and tour boats. Boats with names like Taku, Little Missus, and Second Time Around. Which was the boat named Nothing Ventured?

More importantly, would she find Matt upon finding the boat? What would he say when she did? A shiver raced through her that had little to do with the chilled air that met her as she slid from the car, pulled her jacket closed and stepped over a pile of gray, sodden snow.

A salt-laden breeze lifted her short blond hair. Gulls screamed overhead, demanding her attention, while the sun fought a battle with gray clouds. A black raven perched on the walkway rail, cocked his head and watched her with piercing eyes. It was almost as if he were asking what she was doing here. He was not the only one that wondered that.

The main dock stretched parallel to land. A row of docks sprang vertically from it, like loosely spaced teeth on a comb. According to the harbormaster, each dock was assigned a letter, with the individual slips assigned numbers.

Nothing Ventured was on Dock B, Slip 12.

As she stepped onto the metal grate ramp that led to the docks, Amy looked down and caught her breath. Inquisitive bright eyes met hers. The sea otter’s whiskers quivered, its jaws working busily on dinner—what remained of a crab clasped to its chest. It appeared to wink, then turned with a sinuous twist of its large dark body and dove out of sight.

The unexpected sight brought a smile to her face that remained until she turned down the B dock. Tiny hairs raised and tingled at the back of her neck. Her heart pounded. Her fingers curled into fists.

Nothing Ventured rested her bow inches from the weathered wood of the dock. Amy took a deep breath as she stepped closer. The boat looked old, tired, definitely in need of a coat of paint.

A large silver husky lying on the deck of the boat lifted its head and fixed Amy with a hard stare as she came alongside. A man squatted near the dog, his broad back to Amy. A thick wool sweater stretched to cover the breadth of his shoulders.

Amy cleared her throat. A low rumble grew in the dog’s throat.

Shadow. The growl died at the man’s command. He slowly unfolded to a stand and turned toward Amy.

Her words caught in her throat. Her eyes widened. He was huge, easily topping six foot by several inches. Large, work-worn hands hung at his side. Faded jeans encased long, solid legs. His thick, dark brown hair was shaggy, hanging nearly to his collar. His brows drew together as her silent appraisal continued. His features were rough, rugged and compelling. Enough so that it took her breath away.

This man belongs here in Alaska, she thought. She could not imagine him in a suit, living within the confines of her apartment in Seattle. He looked wild, untamed, almost uncivilized. She could not look away.

Need something?

His words broke the stare. Amy felt the heat of a blush climb her neck and warm her cheeks. I’m looking for Matt Gray.

His head lifted slightly as his dark brown eyes traveled the length of her body and back again. It was almost like being touched. Amy fought the urge to step back. Her chin lifted. I need to speak with Matt Gray. If you will just tell me where I can find him, I won’t bother you anymore.

He hesitated, then said, I’m Matt Gray.

No. She silently rejected him. He couldn’t be Sabrina’s husband. Sabrina would have never chosen a man so wild, so rugged, so…

She lifted her eyes to his flat, expressionless ones. He would reveal no secrets. I am Amy Sutherland. Sabrina’s sister.

His brow arched as he studied her intently, eyes narrowing. You don’t look like her, he finally said.

I know that, Amy answered. Though attractive in her own right, she had always been compared to Sabrina’s vibrant, exotic beauty. Something she had long accepted and that no longer had the power to hurt.

So, Matt said, and folded his large arms across his chest. What does she want now? I can’t believe that after all these years, she has had a change of heart and wants to come back to me. Well, you tell her that if she has a problem, find someone else to solve it.

Amy gasped. Her heart dropped to her toes at the cold words. She doesn’t want anything. Sabrina was killed in a car accident this past winter. The momentary satisfaction she felt upon delivering the cruel news died as color washed from Matt’s face.

Look, I’m sorry, I should not have told you that way. I would have called you but you…she…it was not as if you were in contact or anything. 1 mean…we thought…I didn’t mean to tell you that way. She sputtered the words, feeling small and mean for being so abrupt. The man might well be a coldhearted so-and-so, but she had seen the pain flash in his eyes.

Maybe you better come aboard. Matt stepped closer, reached out a callused hand to help her scramble over the side of the boat. Amy hesitated, intuitively knowing that she would find the strength she so admired in a man in Matt’s hand. She wasn’t sure she wanted to admire anything about him.

His grip was firm, unexpectedly gentle, and for a brief second, she was tempted to hang on if for no other reason than warmth. On board, she hastily stepped back, instantly and uncomfortably aware of how he towered above her. That, combined with the strength of his sheer masculinity made her feel tiny, almost fragile, and disturbingly aware that she was a woman. Oblivious to her discomfort, Matt led the way into the boat cabin.

The faint yet distinct odors of fish, diesel and dog wrinkled her nose. Matt scooped up a pile of clothing from a seat by a small table, then motioned for her to sit. She slipped into it. The husky entered the cabin to stand and stare unblinking at Amy.

Her name is Shadow. Just let her get to know you, Matt advised. Then she will pretty much ignore you. She’s friendly, just a little shy at first.

Shadow reached her large, cold wet nose to sniff the back of Amy’s offered hand, then the crook of her knee. Appearing to be satisfied with the cursory exam, she walked away, nails clicking against the wood, curled tail slowly waving above her back. She settled in a corner, head lying on her paws.

Coffee? Matt set two chipped mugs on the small table, then poured when Amy nodded. His hands were large and square. A working man’s hands. Steam rolled off the dark brown liquid. The boat rose and fell on the wake of another boat passing by. Wood groaned as the dock lifted, then settled, and rope squeaked in protest as it stretched to hold Nothing Ventured secure.

Sabrina, he said, sitting across from Amy. Her name came out a deep, husky whisper, breaking the silence. She was so full of life. It’s hard to believe that she is gone. He shook his head and seemed saddened. What happened? The minute the words were spoken he looked as if he wanted to take them back.

Amy found herself wanting to offer comfort at his brief display of sadness, but she was not sure he would welcome her sympathy. Instead, she dredged up memories, wrapped her fingers around the mug and sipped the hot liquid. It was so strong she nearly spit it out.

Sabrina finished her nursing degree when she returned to Seattle. She studied the chipped mug as she spoke. She had been working at the hospital a few months when she met Eric. He was a medical student. It didn’t take long before they were engaged.

Amy did not mention Nathan. She wanted Matt to ask about his son, to acknowledge Nathan’s existence, to show that he cared a little. Her spirits sank when he didn’t.

Eric was in his residency, she continued, hating the emotion that the memories brought. Her voice lowered, tightened. They were both working an evening shift this winter when Seattle had one of her rare snowstorms. The roads were icy.

Her knuckles turned white as they gripped the mug. The car in front of them lost control. They hit it. The semi behind them could not stop. The officer on call said they were both killed instantly. I suppose that’s supposed to make us feel better, she finished bitterly. Pain swept through her. She swallowed and fought the tightness in her throat, the burning at the back of her eyes.

Matt cleared