The Way Home (7 page)

The boy would be easier, less threatening. He stood a head taller than his sister, but he was still caught between man and boy and vulnerable in the way that young males are, not yet grown into their longer bones, posturing to frighten off the monsters while still wishing someone else would make them go away.

He was beautiful in his own manner, with dark eyes you wanted to sink right into and melt. Stick-straight black hair…her fingers flexed as if to curve around an earlier, smaller version of that head.

You had miscarriages.
Sorrow there. She placed one palm over her womb.
So we adopted.

Her mind flashed to the hands that had held her tight.

This James Parker owned the hand in her memory. Her drawing. She was almost certain of that, however overcome she’d been at the time. Nonetheless, she scrambled from the bed and made her way to where the simple drawing lay on the tiny kitchen table.

Oh, yes. Her mind flicked back and forth, dream to drawing to sketchy memory only hours old.

That hand. His hand. Cradling both her and the baby close.

But though she could connect the dots, she couldn’t connect the emotions. She stood outside herself, an observer only.

The lines of fingers and palms might be the same. Obviously, even through her tumult, she’d recognized that the man James had powerful feelings for both his children and her.

But she only felt pity and shame right now. And fear. Not of them, perhaps, but of whatever world they’d drag her into, for that was how things seemed right now. She could accept their claims and go with them, but she wouldn’t be returning home, as they would.

She would be leaving home, however recent and tenuous, behind.

She wasn’t ready.

Oh, God, after all that yearning…she could not go.

J
AMES KICKED
a dirt clod as he walked around this odd hamlet time had forgotten. He’d visited many small towns, of course, in his part of Alabama, the northeast corner filled with what natives called mountains but people here would likely dismiss as mere bumps.

The café was the newest structure, and it had surely been built in the 1940s. There was a squat brick building that housed a small grocery with a minuscule post office, and an old-style gas station with two pumps beneath a tin canopy, run by perhaps the oldest man James had ever seen. Houses more like cabins were sprinkled here and there, but James was headed for one tucked back on a road at the edge of town. Their waitress had told them Dr. Sam lived there.

Dr. Sam.
His nemesis. Bella’s savior.

His prelunch resolve was strained. He’d always been a patient man; Bella was the one who chafed at waiting. He could handle whatever time was required, be it for negotiations with a supplier or for making sweet love to his wife.

But he’d found her when he’d feared her dead. Gotten the scent of her in his nostrils, the feel of her on his skin. Another man was standing between him and her, and most of what was civilized in James had vaporized under the glare of his drive to stake his claim. Bella was his, damn it. Whether she knew it or not.

He’d been counting on memory to carry the day, to bridge the gap that his mistake had set in motion.

Dread that he alone would not be enough to win her sent a cold line of sweat down his back. He stopped at the base of the road climbing up to where she stayed. Inspected the surroundings with a hunter’s eye.

He was on foot with no weapons but his brain. In the past, that would have been enough, in his real life, all he’d needed.

But here and now…he was all but naked. Defenseless. He understood far too little of his enemy, of Bella’s mind-set, her condition. All signs pointed to the demand to take things slow.

If only his insides would agree.

James had never been to war, but he’d read a lot of military history. You didn’t win a skirmish or a battle, much less a war, by jumping the gun. You performed surveillance, you readied your troops, you made certain you were well provisioned.

There were a million details he should be dealing with back home, a business on the brink, a staggering load of responsibilities.

He cared for none of them, not one whit.

But if he was to bring Bella back, he could not let their home lie unprotected. He had to find some means to deal with what he must from here….

Because he was not leaving Lucky Draw without her.

Cele was back in town, on the phone to the plant. She was eager and capable, ready to assume some of the load. He would let her.

Cameron must return to school, but he could help, too. He was a solid pilot, and James would put that skill to use. Cam could fly Cele back and forth this astonishing distance. He could ferry what was required for James to do business the old way, with paper documents, since James sincerely doubted that Lucky Draw had Wi-Fi or hispeed cable. FedEx.

All that pressed in on James made him tired, but he would manage. He always had. For now, though, he would do reconnaissance on the enemy’s lair, figure out where the princess was being held.

James had to grin—that sounded much more like a Bella fancy—at least, the Bella of the old days.

His ire was up; his juices were running. James hadn’t had a challenge like this in a very long time, and he was surprised at how it energized him.

First step, survey the battlefield.

Step two, shamelessly use your children as bait.

Bella would have laughed, the old Bella, the daredevil. He had no idea who this woman, this memoryless Bella was.

Please,
he prayed.
Please let me have my Bella back.

Then he began to plot. A quarterback was the general of the playing field, and he’d been a good one.

He’d conduct this campaign with all the weapons at his disposal, every understanding of Bella’s nature he possessed. He’d tempt her unmercifully with what he’d learned during their rich, beautiful life together, and he’d adapt to the changed circumstances.

This Bella was not the girl he’d married or the woman with whom he’d spent thirty-six years, though time would tell how much of either slept inside her.

He’d turn the tables on her, make her love him again. He’d fallen like a ton of bricks years ago, while she’d played hard to get.

James smiled. Maybe the gambit to begin was a little
hard-to-get
of his own.

Even if it killed him.

Which it just might.

But he’d always liked a challenge. And he’d never met one quite like Bella, past or present.

“B
ELLA
,” L
UISA CALLED
from outside her door. “You have a visitor.”

Bella.
Jane tensed. She should be changing her name, but she wasn’t ready yet.

“A handsome young man, that one. A little shy, I think.”

“Luisa, I can’t.”

“Can’t what?” The doorknob rattled. Began to turn. “Cannot spare a moment for someone who has done nothing to hurt you? He only asks for a moment.”

“But—” Jane closed her eyes. Swallowed. Luisa was right. The boy had done nothing to her. None of them had.

Then Luisa stood there in the afternoon’s golden light. “He tells me, this one, with his pretty manners, that he understands that you do not recognize him. That he must return to college and he would simply like a moment to be with you, after all the worry they have been through.”

To refuse would be churlish. Cowardly. “Do you think I was a weak woman…before?”

“Oh, no. You are passion. Life. One does not seize the reins as you have if one is accustomed to being cosseted.”

“How can you say that?” But Jane grinned. “And don’t give me that palmistry nonsense again.”

“Very well.” Luisa sniffed. “I know what I know. Now, where will you meet with him, this Cameron?”

Jane glanced around her but felt the call of the sun. “Outside. In the garden.”

“Or what will one day be a garden, if Dr. Sam does not undo all your hard work?”

A chill ran through her. Luisa assumed she would leave with them, these strangers. Go…home. The one she didn’t remember.

Jane halted, then forced herself to continue.

Hoping that something, someone, would prove to be the key that would open the lock. Once in the garden, she glanced around for her visitor, but not seeing him, sank to her knees and began weeding to still her nerves.

“Mom? Uh, I mean, um—I don’t—”

Grasping a weed, she settled back on her heels. Turned to find him towering over her, shifting on his feet.

“I’m sorry.” He held out his palms. “I don’t mean to make you feel bad. I don’t know what to call you.”

So earnest. So worried and…young.

He would not hurt her.

She stood. Smiled as she hungrily scanned his features, tried to see the baby in the man. “But I am your mother, right?”

“Yeah.” His shoulders relaxed.

“So you should call me that. It’s not—” She gestured futilely back toward the village. “That wasn’t about me not wanting you. It was just…”

“Too much.”

She smiled. “Yes.” He could use a hug, she thought, but the one she would offer was not a mother’s. Wouldn’t that hurt worse? So she fell back on some notion of hospitality she didn’t recall learning. “Would you like something to drink?” Then she frowned. “All I have is tea.”

“Iced tea would be great.”

“I—all I have is herbal tea. I’m sorry. Maybe Luisa would—”

“Herbal tea is just fine.” In his firm tone, she glimpsed hints of the man he would become. He pointed behind her. “It’s good to see you gardening again.”

“He—your father. He said I had big ones. Did all the work.”

“Worked harder than any hired hand, Grandpa says.”

“Grandpa? My—” Why hadn’t she felt it, that she had parents alive?

“No, Dad’s dad. Your—” He shuffled his feet. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to be telling you.”

“Whatever the truth is. I have to start somewhere. Begin as—”

“—you mean to continue,” he finished.

Her eyes widened. “Why do you say that?”

“You only repeated it to me and Cele about a thousand times in our lives. We might as well have it tattooed on our foreheads.”

How incredible. Another piece that had made it through the darkness. “But then you’d only notice it in the mirror. I was thinking on the backs of your hands.”

His gaze cut to hers, his face lighting up. “You made a joke. I’ve missed that.”

“I joke around? Why did I quit?”

“You’ve been working long hours since I left home, I think.”

“Are you in college?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “And flight school, thanks to you.”

“Me?”

“Dad was after me to join the business, but Cele’s more suited to that. You argued my case better than any lawyer. I mean, he’s right that if I’m not in the military I miss out on the best part of flying, but—”

She touched his arm, this good-hearted boy, and both of them faltered. “I’m sorry.” She withdrew.

“No. That’s not why—” His face crumpled. “I know I’m not supposed to push you, but—” He wiped his arm across his eyes. “I never wanted to hug you so much in my life.”

Maybe she didn’t recollect their past, but she cared about him already, this boy who might have been the baby she’d dreamed of. Longed for. Bella opened her arms and embraced him.

His head collapsed on her shoulder, and his frame shook.

She swayed side to side, as though he were still a baby. A small tune threaded its way through her, and she began to hum.

His embrace nearly crushed her then. “You sang that to me every night until I got too big.”

She reared back. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Hope and love and fear tangled in his gaze.

Tense and uncertain, Jane froze for a second, then she touched his cheek and continued singing, her voice gaining strength. She cradled the back of his head and urged him down.

He folded into her, this gangly, sweet boy, and she was prepared to stand there as long as he was willing, soaking up the warmth of love she could feel, even if she couldn’t recall it. She mourned for the black hole that separated baby from young man and prayed that someday she would regain it all, everything that had been stolen from her.

When slowly he straightened, he wiped his nose with the back of his hand, and she had the notion that she’d witnessed him doing that more than once. “Here,” she said, grasping his hand, drawing him into the apartment. “Let’s get you a tissue.”

He sniffed. “I’d use my shirttail. It drove you nuts.”

Had she ever possessed the luxury of worrying over such foolish things? “Well, now I don’t care.” She handed him a tissue. “But since Luisa does the laundry, let’s cut her a break.” She smiled.

When he smiled back, the sun couldn’t begin to compete.

“Cele is dying to visit you. Can I bring her?”

“May I.” She halted. Blinked.

His grin widened. “You sound like a mom. Mine, to be exact.”

She owed him honesty. “Cameron, I shouldn’t get your hopes up. I want badly to be the mother you remember, but I’m just winging it right now.”

He nodded, but he refused to let her spoil his cheer, this sunny boy she was happy was hers. “I’m a good pilot. Winging it is my life.”

She sat down, exhausted from the accumulated emotion. “Do you think that your sister would mind if I took a little nap first? I don’t want to hurt her, but I’m just—”

His eyes widened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—I forgot you’ve been hurt. Here—why don’t you get into bed, and I’ll just sit here and watch over you while—”

She grabbed his hand. “It’s okay.” How lovely that the man had raised a boy who was a protector, too. She would have to speak to the man again, as well.

But not yet.

“Come on.” As though he were the adult and she the child, Cameron led her to the bed and urged her down, then tenderly covered her with a quilt.

She surrendered to his care. All the starch had gone out of her suddenly. “Don’t wait, please. Just need to be…”
Alone,
she thought as she drifted off. She craved some space to heal, to try to understand all that had happened.

But part of her longed to beg him to stay.

“I’
M GOING BACK
,” Cele said as evening approached.

James disconnected his call. “I’ve got us rooms in Rifle. It’s the closest town with a motel, though God knows what kind of accommodations they are.”

“No, I mean I’m going home.”

James frowned. Her face was set and pale. “You haven’t seen your mother yet.”

“I’ve seen enough.” He recognized that stubborn set of jaw.

Inwardly, he sighed. They’d been through a lot in Cele’s early days. Abandoned as a baby, then left in an orphanage in Romania, she’d been hard to connect with at first, then clingy.

But once Cele understood that she was theirs and vice versa, that she truly belonged, well…look out. She had a mulish streak a mile wide, and it was worse when she was hurt.

His prickly darling required some handling. She and Bella had survived her teens, but just barely. Bella was warm and generous and open, but she had a stubborn streak of her own.

“She’ll wake up soon,” he promised. “Then you’ll be the first one she wants to talk to.”

“No,” she said quietly. Too quietly. “Cam already was.”

Lord save me from mother-daughter dynamics.
But he couldn’t miss the streak of pain.

“Honey, Cam’s easy. He’s a goof. If you had to deal with any of us and you were scared, who would you choose?”

“But she doesn’t even know Cam,” she cried. “She doesn’t remember any of us. She has no idea he’s easy, and she still picked him.” She whirled away, but not before he spotted the too-bright eyes.

It wasn’t that he didn’t understand. He, too, had felt the sting of Bella’s fear. More like a slap, though. A blow, straight to the center of his chest. How could she not sense, deep inside, what they meant to each other? The unbreakable bond?

“Hey,” he said quietly, offering up his arms.

She faced him, blinking rapidly. “I hate this.” With a delicate sniff, a brush at her eyes. “I just want Mama back.”

“Me, too, sweetheart.” Once again, he offered, and this time, she accepted the comfort. Clung to him. He rested his head on her hair, though he had to bend low. “You do what you have to, Cele. If this is too much, you can certainly go, and I’ll keep you posted.” He leaned back. “I’m going to ask you to stand in for me for a while, anyway.”

Her head whipped up. “Really?”

“Really.”

Her eyes shone. “But—”

“No buts. We’ll tag team them, my girl. I trust you, and you’re smart as they come. We’ll talk every day.”

At that moment, she seemed very young to him, and he wondered if he was making a mistake, throwing her to the wolves, even part-time. “You think I’m ready?”

“Others won’t, Cele. I’m not telling you it will be easy, but you’re ready to make your move. The next generation of Parkers steps up to the plate.”

“But what about Mama?”

“Give things another day, won’t you? She’s been through a lot. I bet tomorrow will be a different story, and she needs all of us. Go to her and explain why you’re leaving—don’t just run.”

Irritation flared, replaced by a smile. “Parkers don’t run when things get tough.”

He winked. “That’s my girl.”

“Okay.” A big sigh. “All right. So…” She was already planning, he could tell. “I’ll get my laptop, and we’ll start outlining what has to be done, what I should send to you, the issues that must be addressed—”

James couldn’t help his chuckle.

“What?” She turned. But then she smiled, too. “Your busy bee, huh, Daddy?”

He rumpled her hair affectionately. “Parker’s Ridge better batten down the hatches. Storm Cele is fixing to make landfall.”

She gave him a quick hug, then, in an instant, was out the door.

B
UT
B
ELLA DID NOT
wake up refreshed. She didn’t wake up at all, though that damn Dr. Sam, the self-appointed gatekeeper, said she was fine, only sleeping.

James went over Cele’s lists with her. Counseled an uncertain Cam, though he was sure of little himself. They ate one more meal in the diner, lingered for a while, then finally, there was no choice but to go. To put nearly fifty miles between them and the woman they had traveled so far to claim.

As he slouched on the bed in his solitary room, he absently clicked cable channels but registered nothing on the screen. Idly, he cataloged the amenities of the so-called Red Crown Inn, which, he’d been assured, boasted the finest of accommodations for a hundred miles.

The room was huge, in the manner of a bygone day. There was easily space for a second king-size bed beside the one he occupied. The cabbage-rose drapes in hues of salmon and pale green complemented the dark green carpet—and all smelled of someone’s heavy hand at floral room spray, which didn’t do much to cover the darker scents of forty years or so of cigarettes and mildew and the unique fragrance of time.

The place was less sterile than the usual chain hotel, down-home in its own manner, but altogether miserable.

And he was a snob. Bella had said that, more than once….

“Y
OU DON’T STRAY OUT
of your comfort zone much, do you, rich boy?” Bella, naked, lay on a quilt in a forest clearing where he’d taken her on a hike when he’d brought her home to meet his parents.

He was torn between throwing the edge of the quilt over her, lest someone should happen by, and jumping her bones. Again. And they’d only been there half an hour.

“I do things,” he protested.

Mischief sparkled as she popped a grape in her mouth, then slipped it between her lips and into his, slick and slightly warm from her on the outside, chilled when he bit down. “What, besides shock the living daylights out of your parents by showing up with me?”

“They weren’t shocked. They were…” He lost his train of thought as she wrapped her fingers around him.

“Don’t kid a kidder. They’re horrified.” She grinned as she slowly squeezed, then trailed her fingers upward. “They’re just too mannerly to admit it.”

James blinked to clear his brain. She did this, mesmerized him with sex, partly out of fun but also, he was discovering, to afford herself an edge when she felt insecure.

He swept her fingers away and levered himself over her in one swift motion. “I’m the heir. And they’re good parents. They only want the best for me.” He bent to her then, sliding his tongue down her throat.

A little pleasure hum emerged. “And they’re positive that’s not me. That I won’t fit in here.”

He’d already fastened his mouth on her nipple, so he didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he concentrated on making certain she felt his devotion. When he’d reduced her to jelly, he lifted his head. “Honey, you fit in everywhere—and nowhere. That’s what I love about you—one thing, anyway. You are one of a kind. I’m crazy about you.”