The Way Home (41 page)

Little Farishta—“Angel”—had her mother’s black eyes and gorgeous olive complexion and her daddy’s determination, especially when she wanted attention.

“We got the word last week that the book has been optioned for a movie.”

She blinked across the counter at him. “You’re kidding?”

“Doesn’t mean a movie’s going to happen, but the option money will go a long way toward college tuition.”

As if J.R. had any financial worries. Once the story had broken last year, he’d had book offers flying at him like bullets. Only after he and Rabia had given it hard and serious consideration had they decided to engage a literary agent. The subsequent bidding war for the book about his ordeal had made J.R. a wealthy man.

He hadn’t taken the book deal because he’d wanted to get rich, though. He’d taken it to help fund Rabia’s cause. They’d eventually settled in D.C., where Rabia actively lobbied for awareness of the need for continued support of Afghan women’s rights. A film documentary was also in the works that brought attention to the plight of women and girls in her homeland. All because Rabia had a voice that would not be silenced.

Jeff had enrolled in college. His goal was to become a counselor for veterans suffering from TBI and PTSD.

“I’m so proud of you,” she said, “but I’ve got one question.”

“Shoot.”

“Who’s going to play me in the movie?”

He grinned and snagged a warm sugar cookie off the tray. “Someone with a smart mouth.”

The front door opened then, bringing a gust of crisp winter air and the laughter of the man she loved.

“W
ILL YOU QUIT
smiling?” Ty teased the next night, as they snuggled side-by-side on the sofa in front of the fire, after everyone had retired to one of their five bedrooms.

Jess nestled deeper against Ty’s chest. “I can’t help it. I’m
happy. Most of the people I love in this world are safe and warm under our roof tonight. We should have worked a little harder to persuade Brad to stay and sleep on the sofa.”

“I think that confirmed bachelor was more than happy to retire to his man cave for a little peace and quiet.”

“You’ve got to admit, when you Brown boys get together, things do get a bit out of hand. Your poor mom. You two gave her fits when you were growing up. Some of the stories she told me!”

“You don’t want to believe that sweet, apple-cheeked woman. She lies.”

She laughed and gave him an elbow in the ribs. “Shame on you.”

“She does,” he insisted, with a hint of a whine that made her laugh again. “We were angels. Like the one on top of the tree.”

As much as she enjoyed these quiet moments together, she couldn’t stop a yawn.

“Speaking of angels,” he said, “I know another one who needs to go to bed. You’re beat.”

“I don’t want to move.”

“You don’t have to.” He gathered her in his arms and stood.

“You’ll hurt your back.”

“You let me worry about my back.”

He carried her upstairs, Bear padding along behind them, and laid her down. Then he undressed her while she watched his eyes in the dark.

“Thank you,” she whispered, when he crawled under the covers with her.

“My pleasure.” He drew her into his arms and nuzzled her neck. “And I should be thanking you.”

“For what? Having your family here?”

“No. Because I would never have this without you,” he murmured.

“This?” She lifted her head so she could see his face in the soft shadows. Unexpected emotions welled up inside her when she saw the sheen of moisture glistening in his eyes.

“Home.” He pressed his lips softly to hers. “I never thought I’d find this sense of home.” He kissed her again with a tenderness that humbled her. “Thank you for showing me the way.”

L
ake Kabetogama, where a good
portion of this novel is set, is a very beautiful, very magical place. Kabby represents a treasure trove of special memories from when I was a child vacationing at the lake with my parents, to the present where our children and extended family and friends join us to make more memories. It was truly a joy to write about the area.

The Crossroads General Store is fictional, but locals and frequent visitors to Kabby will recognize that Crossroads bears a marked resemblance to The Gateway Store, a landmark that has stood for decades and accommodated so many travelers. The Whispering Pines Resort is also fictional, but its depiction could match any of a number of beautiful resorts on the lake.

Although the names have been changed, some among you (cough Boots cough Marcia cough) may recognize characters loosely patterned in your image.

All other landmarks, including The Walleye, are real.

Any mistakes in either the Kabetogama or the Afghanistan locales are mine and mine alone.

I
’m blessed with amazingly talented
and giving friends, many of whom also happen to be writers and who share my insecurities and their wisdom :o). Rob Browne, Debra Webb, Glenna McReynolds, LeAnne Banks, Susan Connell—thank you for helping me find my way through this book.

Maria Carvainis—agent without equal—thank you for guiding my way.

Micki Nuding—editor and friend—thank you for the unflagging support and lovely edit.

Louise Burke—publisher extraordinaire—thank you for the amazing opportunities.

And to Joseph Francis Collins—fellow author, firefighter, paramedic, expert on all things military, I thank you, friend, for the invaluable contributions you’ve made to this book in the form of time, research, and counsel.
The Way Home
has been special from the moment the story made itself known to me and, with your help, it turned into everything I hoped it would become.

A
LSO BY
C
INDY
G
ERARD

Killing Time

Last Man Standing

With No Remorse

Risk No Secrets

Feel the Heat

Whisper No Lies

Take No Prisoners

Show No Mercy