His Surprise Son by WENDY WARREN Page B

Oregon.”
    “I remember the farm,” she said. “In fact, I remember that your father took the job there, because with no rent or mortgage your parents were able to put more money toward your college fund.”
    “Which they’d started the day I built an apartment building out of blocks in kindergarten.” His lips twisted wryly.
    “And you cried, because the teacher wouldn’t let you glue it together so that it wouldn’t fall down in the event of an earthquake or some other natural disaster in the classroom.”
    Nate slid his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose. “I told you that? Doesn’t seem like a great date topic.”
    “I probably would have been impressed, but no, you didn’t mention it. Your parents told me.” Her attention shifted to the river again, where a young girl was learning to paddleboard. “I think they were reminding me that your future was planned—and invested in—a long time before you and I met. So it wasn’t fair to expect you to drop all that when I got ‘in trouble.’”
    The beautiful day grew shadows. Anecdotes about his childhood interests and his parents’ single-minded commitment suddenly seemed indulgent.
    Reaching for her arm, he turned her to face him. “You didn’t get pregnant alone.” He still remembered when she’d told him that. “You were right the day you said that. You shouldn’t have been the only one whose plans changed. I should have stayed with you to face high school, work, the adoption lawyer, all of it. My parents should have expected that of me. I would, if I had a kid in the same situation. I understand what they were thinking at the time, what they were afraid of, but they were wrong.”
    She looked at him, her deeper thoughts still hidden by the dark glasses. Izzy’s lips formed a perfect bow, but they looked tense.
    With calls of “On your left!” a group of cyclists clattered over the wooden footbridge on which they stood. Butterflies swooped and floated in the wildflowers that lined the path. Izzy pulled away from him and started walking again. A couple with a dog crossed in front of them, and Nate dodged around, catching up with Izzy at an overlook, where a few people stood with fishing poles.
    “You were seven when you read Famous Buildings of Frank Lloyd Wright ,” she said without looking at him. “At eight, you requested The Future Architect’s Handbook for Christmas. You loved sports, but you never let your grades fall because of them, and you were one of the few teens who truly seemed to enjoy giving volunteer hours to the community.”
    He shook his head in disgust. “That sounds like a perfect person. And I was not.”
    “No. But in your parents’ eyes, you were as close as you could possibly get.” Her tone was tolerant, not judgmental. “Everyone deserves someone who sees him that way.”
    “Or who sees him realistically, recognizes his screwups and calls him on them. Izzy, don’t whitewash what you went through because of us.”
    She did look at him then and, even with her sunglasses in place, he could see a steely strength she had not possessed at seventeen. “I’m not whitewashing anything, believe me. But if my child had a great future and I thought someone or something might take that away, I would protect him, too. A bulldozer would have to go through me to get to him. I might even make big mistakes, costly mistakes, while I tried to figure out what to do.”
    The vague feeling that had dogged Nate forever began to take a shape. Izzy understood passion. Despite a background that had given her no experience with loyalty, she spoke of being protective with a fierceness that humbled him to the point of discomfort.
    He knew the answer to his next question but asked it anyway. Almost as if he were punishing himself. “You needed support when you had the miscarriage. I’m guessing Felicia was unavailable?”
    “Felicia was never available.” Izzy started walking. “When was the last time you went kayaking?” she