The Homecoming (10 page)

After a few moments and several deep breaths, she finally felt she had regained a bit of her nearly vanished composure. She glanced at her watch. It would take at least ten minutes for her rolling suitcase to be unloaded and brought into the terminal. She wasn't leaving this restroom for a little while.

She hauled out a box of raisins she'd put in her purse as an antidote for airplane food. She hadn't been able to eat on the flight and she still wasn't hungry, but she forced herself to eat them. Her head ached so she took some painkillers with water from the bottle in her carryon. Then she washed her face and hands and dug through her purse until she found her makeup. She might not feel top-grade, but the slight color she'd acquired made her skin glow and intensified the blue of her eyes, making her look fresh and healthy. That was good. Her mother was already worried enough.

Finally, she stood and hefted her bag. By now the luggage should have arrived. She took her time descending to the baggage claim area and purposely didn't look around at other people as she found the
flashing sign that proclaimed her flight's number. A crowd had gathered around the conveyor belt and she walked down close to the point at which the luggage emerged from the flap on the wall. Lady Luck must have taken pity on her because she was barely in place when her suitcase came barreling down the ramp onto the belt.

Sydney heaved it off into an upright position, pulled up the handle and stacked her carryon atop it. Then she tilted the bag onto its wheeled side and began to maneuver through the crowd of jostling strangers. It wasn't far to the curb outside under the huge glassed-in canopy. That was where she would meet the shuttle bus that would take her out to the long-term parking lot where she'd left her car.

A tall man stepped into her path and she swerved to avoid him, realizing as she did so who it was, and her heart sank. She'd been hoping to get away without having to see him again.

“Hey,” Danny said. “Let me get that for you.” He already had his own large duffel over one shoulder and he reached for her suitcase as he spoke.

“No thanks.” She deftly rolled the luggage back out of his reach. “I've got it.” She sent an impersonal smile in the general direction of his face. “I guess we'll talk in a couple of days.” And without giving him a chance for one more word, she wheeled her suitcase around him and headed through the automatic doors to the shuttle line.

She fought tears several times on the drive to her
apartment, but once she was home again, standing amid all the things she'd forgotten just a few days ago—had it really only been a few days since she'd met Danny?—she forced the hurt into hiding.
This
was her life. Not the idyllic experience she'd just had on a tropical island with the most charismatic, attractive man she'd ever met in her life.

 

“Hello, Everett.” Nancy Allen stood in the open door of Everett Baker's small apartment. Her eyes were warm and looked suspiciously moist, and before he could gather his wits, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her soft, wonderfully familiar body tightly to his. “Oh,” she said in a voice that made him pretty sure she was trying hard not to cry, “I'm so glad you made bail.”

“How did you find out?” He couldn't resist putting his own arms around her, burying his face in her fragrant hair and adjusting the fit of their bodies until he'd found that particular sweet, perfectly aligned plane that always took his breath away.

“I was sitting in the back of the courtroom,” she said. “I saw your father make the offer.”

“My real father. Terrence Logan.” He pulled back far enough to see her face.

Nancy nodded. Her gaze searched his face. “How do you feel about what's happened?”

He hesitated. “You mean finding out who I really am…was?”

She nodded.

He shook his head, letting his bewilderment show. “I don't know. Terrible.” Then the certainty that he'd lived with since he'd been arrested returned full force. “Nancy, you didn't need to come here. I mean, I understand how you must feel—”

“Worried to death? Sad and heartsick for you?” She took his face between her hands. “Oh, Everett, I wish I'd known. Maybe I could have done something.”

“You did,” he told her soberly. “Because of you, I found the courage to stand up to Charlie Prescott and go to the cops. After you and I…became friends, I realized that whatever Charlie wanted from me, friendship was pretty far down on the list.”

“Became friends,” Nancy repeated. “Is that how you think of us?” Her eyes were still soft and so very warm, and she hadn't stepped away from him. Yet.

“No,” he said. He would be honest from now on, no matter what it cost him. “I think of you as the most wonderful thing ever to happen in my life. But, Nancy, the things I did were terrible. I wouldn't blame you if you never wanted to talk to me again.”

Nancy slowly withdrew her arms and he let her step away from him. But to his surprise, she didn't leave. Instead, she took his hand and led him toward the battered couch in his cramped living room.

Nancy put a hand over his. Tears sparkled in her eyes. “Oh, Everett, I only wish you'd told me. We could have gone to the authorities together.”

“I know.” He turned his palm up and felt as if he'd been granted a miracle when Nancy laced her fingers
through his. “I'm sorry.” Shame coursed through him yet again.

“Don't be,” she said fiercely. “Anyone who lived through a childhood experience like yours can be forgiven for making mistakes. Charlie Prescott chose you because he thought you were vulnerable.”

“He was right.” And he despised himself for being so weak.

“Do you remember your own family?” she asked. It was the first time she'd sounded hesitant, and he realized she didn't want to pry.

“A little.” He studied their clasped hands. “More things are coming back to me every day.”

“Someday,” she said, “I'd like to hear as much as you want to share with me about your childhood.”

He sighed. “There's a lot you probably don't want to hear. The couple who took me, the Bakers, weren't exactly role models for the American family.”

“Were you abused?” Her voice was very soft.

He nodded. “I got beaten a lot. But even worse was the stuff they used to say to me.”

“You know,” she said, “I've seen a lot of abused children in my line of work. And it's so sad to see how many of them will cling to an abusive parent even after they've been horribly damaged. Apparently, a bad parent seems better than no sense of security, of belonging, at all. I imagine Charlie realized you needed someone, or something, to validate you.”

He nodded. “He was right. I believed I was stupid and worthless. I guess if you get told that often enough you start to believe it.”

Nancy nodded. “You internalized it. But you know he was wrong, don't you?”

He attempted a crooked smile. “Let's just say I'm working on my self-image.”

Nancy frowned, and when she spoke, her voice was uncharacteristically sharp. “It's not a question of smart or stupid, it's one of how your environment shaped your need for relationships. You're a very smart man, Everett, and a very strong one.” She hesitated, then said, “There are doctors and counselors who specialize in deprogramming people who have been brainwashed, which is essentially what was done to you. If I could find one to help you deal with your past, would you see that person?”

He couldn't believe she still would bother with him after everything he'd told her. And yet, she hadn't run, hadn't gotten angry or disgusted. She'd said he was smart and strong. “Why?” he asked hesitantly. “Why would you do all this for me, Nancy?” He wanted to believe he knew the answer, but the world in which he'd lived had taught him never to trust, never to hope.

“Oh, Everett,” she said. “If you don't know the answer to that, then you really do need counseling.” She smiled then, and as his heart swelled with hope, she pressed her lips to his briefly. “So would you go?”

“I guess so.” It couldn't hurt, and maybe it could
even help. And maybe, just maybe, Nancy wouldn't leave him. “If you'll go along.”

“Of course I'll go along,” she said, as if that had never been in question. “I'll be right beside you.”

S
ydney called her mother to tell her to expect her for dinner and declined the invitation to spend the night. After the emotional upheavals she'd endured for the past few days, all she really wanted was to bring Nick home and nestle into their snug little apartment together. Much as she loved her parents, she needed some time with her son. Just her son.

Only he's not my son,
she reminded herself. She decided to wait until after the results of the DNA test to tell her family the unwelcome news. She was absolutely certain, deep in her heart, that Nick had been born Noah Crosby, but until she had it confirmed there was no sense in upsetting everyone. There would be plenty of time to be upset later.

It took just under an hour to make the drive north to her childhood home in Longview, Washington. She had barely gotten her car parked in her parents' driveway when the door flew open and a small figure hurtled toward her. “Mommy!”

“Nick.” She scrambled out of the car and knelt with her arms wide. Her heart felt as though it was going to explode with love as her son's small body barreled into her embrace. Nick wrapped his arms around her neck as she held him close and rocked from side to side.

“I missed you, Mommy,” his little voice announced from where he'd buried his face in her shoulder.

“I missed you, too, buddy,” she said, dropping a kiss on the crown of his head and his straight, corn-silk-colored hair. She drew back to smile at him. “It's good to be home.”

“We're not home,” Nick said with irrefutable five-year-old logic as he pushed out of her arms. “We're at Gramma's house. But Gramma says we're going home after dinner.”

“Gramma's right.” She stood and smiled as her son went flying back up the driveway to inform his Gramma that he needed to put his suitcase in the car.

Her father had come out as well, and he chuckled. “That boy has ants in his pants,” he said.

“Was he good?” She really hadn't talked to her mother long enough to hear much while she'd been away.

“Terrific,” her father assured her. “I took him fish
ing on the Catawah twice and he caught a few under-size summer-run steelhead. I had to explain a couple of times why he couldn't keep them.”

They chuckled together as they walked toward the house.

“So,” her father said. “Tell me about your vacation.”

Sydney squirmed. “You and Mom should go to Hawaii sometime, Daddy,” she said to divert him. “It's incredibly beautiful. I saw everything I wanted, except the volcanoes on the Big Island.”

“That's for another trip, hmm?” her father said as he held the door.

“Maybe sometime.” She gave him a smile, hoping it didn't look as brittle as it felt. Given the finality with which Danny had let her know she couldn't be a part of his life, she doubted she'd ever voluntarily go near the island chain again.

Her mother had invited her siblings and their families for dinner, and Sydney was grateful for the whole noisy crew. Between them and Nick chattering away about everything he'd done with Gramma and Granddad while she was on “'cation,” she wasn't required to do much but answer general questions about her time away.

After the meal, Nick's eyelids were drooping and she didn't linger. After all-around goodbyes and thank-yous to her parents for keeping him, she bundled her son into the car for the drive back down to their home in Portland. As she'd expected, Nick slept most of the
way. He must have played hard at his grandparents' because he never even woke up when she unbuckled him from his car seat and carried him in to bed.

She slipped off his sneakers and play clothes, gave his face and hands, elbows and knees a cursory washing and got him into his pajamas, all without rousing him to more than the occasional mumble.

As she was walking back out to the garage to get the rest of their things from the car, her telephone rang. She backtracked and checked the caller ID, but it was a number she didn't recognize and the caller wasn't identified. Clicking on the phone, she said, “Hello?”

“Hi, Sydney. It's Danny.”

He wouldn't have had to tell her. She'd know that voice anywhere. Funny, she thought, it was just another male voice, albeit one with a deep, pleasant tone, and yet it had the power to make her stomach lurch and her heart beat faster.

Swallowing the nerves that rose immediately, she said, “Hello, Danny.”

“How was your trip up to your parents'?”

“Fine, thanks. Nick had a great time with them while I was away.”

“Good.”

There was a brief, awkward silence and she wondered why he had called. Surely not to engage her in this small talk. “Is there something you need?” she finally asked.

“Uh, no,” he said. “I just wanted to tell you that we
should know the results of the DNA testing the day after tomorrow. Would you like to meet me at the doctor's office? That way we can both hear the results and ask any questions we have at that time.”

“That would be fine.” She retrieved a pencil and notepad from a nearby drawer and wrote down the address he gave her. Then there was another silence. “Danny?” she said when he didn't speak.

“Yes?”

“Would you like to come over for dinner tomorrow evening?”

“No,” he said hastily. “Thanks but I already have plans.”

It was exactly what she'd expected, and she'd been stupid even to set herself up for another rejection. But she hadn't been able to prevent the words from jumping out of her mouth even though she'd known as she spoke them that he'd refuse. Still, it hurt.

“All right,” she said softly. “Thanks for calling.”

“You're welcome.” He still didn't hang up.

Finally, she said, “Danny, was there something else?”

He exhaled so heavily she heard it through the receiver. “No.”

“All right. Good night.” This time she didn't wait, but gently turned off the handset and put it back in the cradle. Her heart ached for him. By his own choice, he was determined to be alone. To stay alone.

And because of that, her heart also ached for herself. Something about Danny called to her, stirred her heart to wanting him, to caring for him. To loving him.

Long after she'd unpacked and gotten into bed after checking on Nick one last time, she lay awake staring at the ceiling. Reliving the days on the island before she'd remembered why she was there. The attraction, the feelings, hadn't been all on her side.

She wasn't sure how it had happened, but in just a few short days, she'd fallen in love with a man who was probably among the Top Ten Most Complicated Men in the Western Hemisphere.

And she was pretty sure that he would never allow himself to love her back.

 

The following day crawled by, one excruciating minute at a time. Danny spent most of it at Crosby Systems with Trent. His brother cleared out an office so that Danny could do much of the work he usually did from home. Trent had been beyond surprised when Danny had shown up in his office, but had quickly masked it and warmly welcomed him. Danny figured Trent saw his visit as another sign of his emotional stability.

Several times he nearly blurted out the whole story, nearly told his brother about Sydney and the child she seemed so certain was Noah. But something held his tongue. It wasn't simply that he wanted to protect Trent from the same heartache he was going through, although that certainly was a factor.

But there was something more. Something inside him that told him not to voice even a whisper of hope that Noah might still be alive. He couldn't be. Not after all this time.

But what about the heart surgery?

Coincidence.
It had to be. Surely there were a number of adopted boys in the country who'd had heart surgery.

But not little boys whose adoptions had come about in such an unorthodox manner. Not little boys who had literally been dropped on their mothers' doorsteps at a year of age with no birth certificate and only shadowy knowledge of their pasts.

Trent invited him for dinner that evening to meet his new wife, Rebecca. Their sister Katie and her husband, Peter Logan, were coming, and Katie was dying to see him, he told Danny. But the last thing he wanted to do right now was pretend there was nothing wrong in front of his far-too-perceptive brother and sister.

Peter Logan. The thought of a member of the Logan family jarred him into thinking about his childhood friend Robbie. The older brother Peter had never even met. Robbie—Everett Baker now—had fired his public defender, Trent had told him, but Terrence Logan had hired the best criminal defense lawyers he could find to represent the son he'd just found again. Robbie hadn't wanted to accept, apparently feeling that he should be punished.

And he should. The part of Danny that was the father of a kidnapped child got furious every time he thought of Robbie involved in a kidnapping scheme, of all things. How could he? True, they'd heard that Robbie had been brainwashed until he'd forgotten his true identity, and Trent had told him some pretty sad
stories about Robbie's life after he was taken. But
how could he have stolen other people's babies?

Then a truly terrible thought occurred to him. Robbie couldn't have had anything to do with Noah's kidnapping, could he? There would be too much irony in that to be believed. He'd ascribed his son's loss to that cosmic payback theory for so long that he was stunned to think it really could be true. He'd failed to save Robbie from being snatched, and years later, Robbie might have helped snatch Danny's very own child. The thought was so disturbing that he couldn't hide his disquiet when Trent stuck his head in the door shortly before six.

“Hey,” he said to Danny. “You sure you won't come to dinner?”

Danny shook his head. “Give Katie a kiss for me. And Rebecca, too.” He forced a smile. “But you don't have to kiss Peter.”

Trent studied his younger brother for a moment. “Something's wrong. What?”

Danny huffed out a breath of exasperated amusement at his brother's perceptiveness. He wasn't ready to talk about it. “Trent, get over yourself. You've been taking care of the rest of us for so long that you've forgotten you don't have to anymore.”

Trent raised an eyebrow and looked at Danny with challenge in his eyes. “Don't I?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I don't doubt that,” Trent said quietly. “But something's bothering you. All I'm offering is a sounding board if you need one.”

“I don't.” Slowly, Danny spoke again. “But I was wondering about something. Did you ever hear anything about the people Robbie—Everett Baker—was working with?”

Trent nodded. “One was a guy from Russia. Vladmir Kosanisky, I believe. And he's going to jail for a long, long time, thanks to Robbie's testimony. But the brains behind the whole scheme, the one they called the Stork, the guy who recruited them both, was named Charlie Prescott.”

Danny shook his head. “Doesn't ring any bells.”

“I don't think it should.”

“Why would he do that? Steal babies?”
Cause a lifetime of anguish for the families left behind?

“Funny you should ask.” Trent hitched up his pants leg and settled on the edge of Danny's desk. “When I talked to Katie earlier, she said Peter's parents had just learned some new information from the cops. Apparently this Prescott was an orphan himself. He lived at the orphanage years before it became Children's Connection and everything it is today.”

“So? Being an orphan shouldn't warp somebody that badly. Didn't he get adopted?”

“He did. But the people who adopted him must not have been screened very carefully. The father abused the boy in every way you can think of,” he added soberly. “And the mother apparently did nothing to stop it. Prescott ran away when he was sixteen but he never forgot the agency that handed him over to those monsters. He went to Children's Connection a couple
of years later to find out who his real parents were, but they wouldn't release the records to him.”

“They couldn't, unless the biological parents had authorized it, right?”

“Right. Anyway, my guess is that was the last straw. He went over whatever cliff of decency he'd been clinging to and decided to take revenge on the agency.” Trent cocked his head. “Danny! You don't think Prescott and Robbie Logan might have had something to do with Noah's kidnapping, do you? My God!” His whole body sagged. “Could that be true?”

Danny shrugged. “The only way to know is to ask Robbie.”

“My God,” Trent repeated. Then he glanced at his watch. “Listen, I have to go, but tomorrow, we'll make some calls, I promise. We'll find out if there's anything to this.”

“I, uh, I'm tied up tomorrow morning,” Danny said. “I might make it in sometime in the afternoon, though.”

“What's going on?”

Danny squirmed beneath his brother's intent gaze. “Maybe nothing. I'll tell you about it later.”
Maybe.
If he could manage to talk about this whole Nick Aston thing at all, it would be Trent to whom he could talk.

Trent stood. “All right. But I'm not going to forget about this.”

“Like that's ever going to happen,” Danny said, only half-joking.

Trent smiled, sketching a salute as he headed out the door. “See you tomorrow. We'll talk more then.”
It sounded as much like a threat as it did like a promise, but Danny couldn't work up any annoyance. Trent was the glue that had held Danny's life together during its worst, blackest moments. He'd been equally involved in Katie's and Ivy's lives, far more of a parent to their younger sisters than either of their parents.

Which was a blessing. Sheila Crosby had never cared for any of her children as much as she'd cared for herself. And Jack, their dad had been so desperate to get away and stay away from Sheila that he'd left the kids to her tender mercies far too often. Oh, well. Water under the bridge. His last counselor had said he could let them continue to ruin his life or he could let it go. He chose the latter.