Previously…
– A guilt-ridden Matt confided in Jake about the steps he’d taken to convince Tori and Zane to place their child for adoption.
– Unbeknownst to Caleb and his family, men from Diego Barrera’s drug ring were keeping tabs on the Taylor home.
– With Natalie rattled by her father’s death, Spencer vowed to keep Jason from taking Peter away from them.

“Why are you being so weird?” Christian Taylor asks from the passenger seat of his father’s car.

Brent Taylor hesitates as he turns the wheel, steering the car around a corner.

“I’m not being weird,” he finally says.

“Yeah, you are. You’re all, like, quiet and jumpy.”

“Am not,” Brent says, although as the car straightens out on the road, he touches one hand to the pocket on the side of his blazer. He feels the bulge of the ring box inside; it has been a long time since he had to cart around a ring like this — when, as best man, he was responsible for holding the rings at Josh’s wedding to Lauren — and he had nearly forgotten how anxiety-inducing it can be.

Besides, tonight, there is another factor to be anxious about, no matter how much he tries to tell himself otherwise.

“I’m just going to dinner with Claire,” Brent adds as he watches the evergreen trees pass by in the rapidly fading light. The vivid pinks of the sunset, so brilliant only minutes ago, have begun to give way to a navy blue blanket of sky.

“And you’re all dressed up,” Christian observes.

“We’re going to Windmills. It’s kind of fancy.”

“Yeah. Okay.” The teenager rolls his eyes as the car slows down and Brent puts on his blinker.

“I wish your brother weren’t out with friends,” Brent says as he turns into the driveway, “because you guys would be too busy bickering to give me a hard turn.”

Christian snickers. The car pulls into the horseshoe-shaped driveway in front of Molly Taylor’s house. As always, Brent looks up at the two-story home with a mixture of wonder and melancholy; it has been years since he and Molly divorced and he moved out of this house, but sometimes, he still sees it as the home they moved into together, eagerly making plans for the rest of their lives.

“It’s cold,” Christian complains as he gets out of the car.

“I told you to bring your jacket,” Brent says.

“I’m not gonna wear a jacket in the house.”

Brent undoes his seatbelt and hops out. He opens the car’s back door and briefly looks around before tossing something over the roof to his son.

“This is Caleb’s,” Christian says.

“The great thing about being identical twins is that you happen to be the same size,” Brent says. “And he’s not here.”

Christian eyeballs the King’s Bay Academy soccer sweatshirt for another moment, then slips it over his head. Brent pops the trunk and takes out the boy’s duffle bag.

“I’ll see you Tuesday, okay?” Brent says. “Have fun with your mom.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Christian says, with that sweet smile — the same one he’s had since he was a toddler — emerging and making it impossible for Brent to believe that his sons are nearly grown men. “Have a good dinner.”

“Planning on it.” Brent closes the trunk and hurries back around to the driver’s door. “Later, kiddo.”

Christian waves, and Brent pulls the car out of the opposite side of the driveway. As Christian starts toward the house, he feels his phone buzz in his pocket; he pauses to check it, and after seeing that it is just an Instagram notification, he continues toward the front door — only to pause again as he senses something coming up from behind him. He sees the flash of headlights turning off and hears the soft crunching of tires on the pavement, as he turns to see an unfamiliar car coasting into the driveway.

—–

“One more, and you can go watch TV,” Spencer Ragan tells his son, who sits at the kitchen table with a plate of chopped-up chicken nuggets and smears of ketchup before him.

“I’m not hungry,” Peter declares, setting an expression on his face that is supposed to be stern but comes off as comical to Spencer.

He bites the inside of his cheek and says, “You say that now, and you’re going to be begging for more food in an hour. Have one more nugget, and you’re done.”

They sit there in the state-of-the-art kitchen in Spencer’s — and now Natalie’s — house, surrounded by stainless steel appliances and Carrera marble, staring one another down. Spencer’s concentration breaks when he sees his iPhone light up on the table. He is about to ignore it when he takes note of the incoming number. It is one that he has purposely never saved in his contacts, and yet, he always recognizes it.

His first instinct is to let the call go to voicemail, but as always, his curiosity wins out.

“One more nugget by the time I’m off the phone,” he says, before picking up his phone and moving to the opposite end of the large, open room, where he can keep an eye on the boy but still have a conversation.

“This is a call from the Carroll County Correctional Institute,” the recorded voice informs him when he answers. Moments later, his caller is on the line.

“Spencer, darling,” Loretta Ragan says. He can picture her in her orange jumpsuit, huddled at a payphone in a large cement room.

“I wasn’t expecting to hear from you,” he says coolly.

“I’m your mother. Of course you’ll hear from me.”

With every year that passes, with Loretta imprisoned and Spencer living an entire country away, their once-normal bond seems stranger and stranger to him.

“Did you get my letters?” she asks.

“Yes. Uh, thank you.” He can hear dead air buzzing over the line, the same crappy connection as it is every time she phones.

“How is little Peter? I can’t believe I have a grandson!”

“He’s–” Spencer stops himself, not wanting to get into an aimless argument right now. “I’m actually in the middle of giving him his dinner.”

“I wish I could be there to help. Someday, when I’m free, I will be.”

The thought sends an uneasy shudder through Spencer’s body. The idea of Loretta being out in the world again, free to come into their lives whenever she wishes, makes him remarkably uneasy.

“Did you just call to chat?” he asks. “It isn’t the best time–”

“No,” Loretta says, her voice suddenly sharp. “I called to offer my help.”

“What? With what?”

“With that precious little Peter.”

“No offense, but I don’t think you can get him to eat his dinner from thousands of miles away.”

“I’m sure you have that under control,” she says. “No, Spencer. I heard about what Jason Fisher is trying to do — and I won’t let him take my grandson away from you.”

—–

In the dining room of Jake and Mia Gray’s house, forks clink against now-emptied dishes. Family members sit around the rectangular, cappuccino-colored table.

“That was great,” Sarah Fisher Gray says. “Thanks for having us over.”

“It’s our pleasure,” Mia says from her seat at the head of the table. Beside her, her husband reaches over and squeezes her hand.

“When’s dessert?” their teenage son asks eagerly.

Jake laughs. “We finished dinner, like, 20 seconds ago.”

Marcus shrugs. “And?”

“I’ll bring out dessert in a few minutes,” Mia says with amusement.

“Can we help?” Matt Gray asks.

Mia waves a hand through the air. “You’re our guests. Just relax.”

“Anybody want a cup of coffee?” Jake asks as he stands from his chair. “I can start a pot.”

“I will if it’s decaf,” Sarah says as she leans over to wipe Billy’s face.

At the opposite end of the table, Tori Gray groans as she stands, as well. She moves stiffly, holding one hand over her expanding belly.

“I think I’m gonna skip dessert and lie down,” she says.

“Go and relax,” Sarah tells her. “We won’t stay too much longer.”

Tori squeezes between one row of chairs and a tall breakfront that displays china and photographs on its shelves.

“Poor thing must be exhausted,” Mia says. “All I remember about being pregnant is how dog-tired I was all the time.”

Sarah nods in agreement. “It’s weird how I know I’ve been through it, and I managed, but now I look at anyone pregnant and think, How in the world?”

Mia lets out a knowing laugh. “If that isn’t the truth…”

“I’ll just be glad when her due date is here and she can really start to heal,” Sarah says more solemnly. “At least, I hope so. I know giving up the baby won’t be easy…”

“But it’s the right thing to do,” Mia finishes for her.

Matt knots his fingers together as his gaze drops to the table. Nevertheless, he can feel his brother watching him. Matt avoids making eye contact. He still can’t believe that he confided in Jake about what he did to get Tori and Zane to sign the adoption papers — and the last thing he wants now is to be reminded of it. Not that the thought is ever far from his mind.

“She’s lucky that she has you guys,” Mia continues. “This is gonna be tough, but she has loving family and a great support system. Tori’s gonna come through this just fine.”

Matt gulps guiltily, and this time, he cannot hep but catch his brother’s eye for a split-second.

—–

Molly Taylor finishes pulling her dark hair into a ponytail and lets the rubber tie snap around it as she descends the staircase inside her home. She sees headlights from outside flash briefly against the opposite wall and then turns toward the entryway.

A grin reflexively crosses her face as she moves for the door. She has been waiting for Brent to drop off Christian and is looking forward to a quiet night with her son, so she goes to greet them outside.

But when she steps out into the fading light, the car in the driveway is not her ex-husband’s.

—–

“Caleb,” a voice barks across the driveway.

Christian freezes, phone still in hand. He turns back to see two men, both with dark facial hair and knit caps on their heads, moving toward him with an intensity that terrifies him.

“What?” he says, confused and suddenly frozen. “I’m not…”

“You’re coming with us,” one of the man says. The other roughly grabs him.

“Let go!” Christian shouts, trying to squirm out of the man’s grip. It only makes him hold on harder as the second man clasps a gloved hand over Christian’s mouth.

He twists and wiggles, doing all he can to make this difficult for them, but they still drag him back toward the darkened car.

“Christian!” Molly’s voice pierces the evening air, startling the men. “Let go of him!”

A fresh wave of terror floods Christian’s system as he sees his mother running toward them.

—–

Spencer breathes into the phone, unsure what to say, as he watches Peter across the room. The boy uses his fork to spear another piece of chicken and eyes it suspiciously.

“I know there’s a custody hearing coming up soon,” Loretta says.

“Do you have people watching me?” Spencer asks.

“Nothing so ominous, darling. But yes, I have people keeping me updated on the people I care about. Is that so wrong?”

“So you can pull another stunt like you did at Jason and Natalie’s wedding?”

“I did that for you,” she declares. “If not for me, that two-bit hussy Natalie would still be passing off Peter as Jason’s son.”

“You could have told me,” Spencer says.

“And Natalie would have weaseled her way out of it in one way or another. The only option was to make it as public and painful for her as possible.”

“Did you even think about how I’d feel?”

“If there had been another way, I’d have done that,” she says plainly. “But there were many loose ends I had to clean up, Spencer. More than you’ll ever know.”

“Loose ends? Like what?”

Loretta pauses, and he can envision the exact way that she is pursing her lips at this moment.

“How is that wife of yours?” she finally asks. “Has she burned through all your money yet?”

“She’s fine,” he says.

“You do know, if you’re ready for this silly arrangement to be over…”

“It can’t be. Not now. Natalie and I — we have to be a united front. As long as we’re together, Jason doesn’t have a case.”

“I suppose so,” Loretta says with more than a hint of disdain. “That’s why I want to assist you, though. Let me do this. Let me neutralize Jason Fisher.”

“Neutralize?!” He catches himself when Peter glances up, suddenly interested in the phone call. Spencer turns his back before saying into the phone, “I don’t want you having anyone killed. Aren’t you on a prison line? They can hear this.”

“I didn’t say anything about having Jason killed. Don’t be so melodramatic.”

“It’s hard not to jump to that conclusion when it’s, well, you.”

“Spencer, I have much more feasible plans,” she says. “Or ideas, which can easily be turned into plans if you wish. Please, let me help you keep your son with you.”

Slowly he rotates back around, relieved to see Peter eating. He never envisioned himself at this stage of life, feeding a toddler, but Peter is his son, and he is learning the ropes. Even after a few months, it is difficult to imagine not having the boy in his life. And Jason’s lawsuit could take away all of it.

Then again, he knows Loretta. He knows that, once she does someone a favor, there is no end to it. The debts simply keep accumulating.

“Thank you, but no,” he says. “I can’t let you do that.”

“Spencer–”

“I said no. And I have to get back to feeding my son. Take care…” He hesitates. “…Loretta.”

“I’m your mother!” she shouts, but he ends the call before she even completes the statement. He takes a deep breath and lowers the phone, wanting to believe that he made the right choice by refusing her special brand of help.

—–

Overwhelmed by guilty feelings, Matt excuses himself to the restroom. He washes and dries his hands and then stares at his reflection in the mirror; he hates knowing that he lied to his daughter and that she made such a major life decision as a result. He wonders how it will be when he meets his grandchild, however briefly, and then has to see that child sent off into the world to be raised by another family.

When he steps out of the restroom, he nearly bumps right into Jake, who is waiting there.

“You doing okay?” Jake asks.

Matt stumbles through a nod. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“You look kinda pale, and…” Jake takes him by the arm and guides him to the family room, where ESPN is playing quietly on the flatscreen TV. Matt stares at the screen over the back of the couch for a long, torturous moment.

“I just don’t know how I’m gonna do this,” he says. “I lied to my own kid.”

“You…” Jake moves his hands as he tries to find the right words. “You guided her to the right decision. If you had to get a little creative with things, then so be it.”

“I keep telling myself that. Then I think, what if she’d gotten that text from Zane? What if I hadn’t deleted it? She might not have signed the papers.”

“And then she’d be stuck with some criminal boyfriend and a baby. Is that what you want for Tori?”

Matt opens his mouth to speak, but another voice beats him to the punch.

“What text?” Tori asks as she sits up, her head appearing over the back of the couch.

The Gray brothers both freeze.

“Dad,” she says angrily. “What text from Zane?”

END OF EPISODE 970

Is Matt’s deceit about to be exposed?
Can Molly save Christian from his attackers?
Did Spencer make the right decision rejecting Loretta?
Talk about it all in the Footprints Forum!

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