The Way Home (9 page)

She would not lean on him yet. Could not afford to. For all she knew, she would never remember the life she’d had. It behooved her to proceed with caution, or she might find herself in some situation from which she could not extricate herself.

Begin as you mean to continue.
Kindness was a good place. Caution, as well. “Please don’t work on this anymore. I’ll finish after I’ve eaten.”

“And what would you have me do?”

She hadn’t considered his position. “Don’t you have to get back to work? What sort of work do you do?”

“I’m not going anywhere without you, Bella.” He sounded astonished that she would assume otherwise. “But to answer your question, I own a furniture-manufacturing business in Parker’s Ridge, Alabama.”

“Aren’t you needed there?”

“It doesn’t matter. You come first.”

“But—” Her heart clutched. So did she have to go already, back to a place she couldn’t recall?

He seemed to understand. “I know you’re not ready. You don’t have to rush, however eager I am to get you home.”

“But what about your business?”

“Cele is ready to accept more responsibility. She’s returning to be on hand, and we’ll do whatever possible via the telephone, since Lucky Draw doesn’t appear to have Internet access.”

She smiled. “It’s a little light on the amenities.”

“I’ve noticed,” he said dryly. “And Cam will fly documents back and forth, if necessary, since courier services also appear to be missing in action.”

“He mentioned that he was a pilot.”

“That would be your doing. Cam has been obsessed with flight since he was old enough to jump off chairs with a towel around his neck.”

“Oh, no. Did he hurt himself?”

“Frequently. But never badly enough to discourage him.”

“And I thought this was a good idea?”

“No.” He smiled. “But you also saw into his heart, when I was busy making plans for him to join me. So you used your wiles on me until I knuckled under.”

“Really?”

He laughed. “Okay, so that’s an overstatement. You did understand him better, and you gently—and not so gently—insisted that I give him a chance to discover if flying was a fancy or in his blood. So we worked out a compromise. He’s in college, however unwillingly, but he’s at the airport every second he can manage. He just got his instrument rating a few days ago.”

“That’s good?”

“That’s amazing. I already know that he’s not going into partnership with me, though I haven’t admitted that to him yet. But, to my surprise, Cele has one hell of a head for business and may just have figured out a way to lead the company into the future.”

“You’re proud of her.”

“Damn proud. Of both of them. We raised two exceptional children.”

And she was hurting them. “I need to talk to Cele. Is it too late? Is she gone?”

His expression was pained. “She’s taking this hard, though she guards her emotions better than Cam. She’s returning home today or tomorrow.”

“I…see.” She was surprised at how much that hurt.

“But she very much wishes to spend time with you first. She just doesn’t want to crowd you.”

Her shoulders sagged. Then forcibly, she straightened them. “I’d like time with her, too.”

“This is harder on you than any of us,” he said.

“Is it?” She studied at him. “I don’t think so.”

“You’re one hell of a woman, Bella. Past and present.”

His approval warmed her. “Present is still a mystery, and the past is a black hole. But I’m trying, I promise.”

“You’re doing great.” His voice was so kind. “Now, let’s get you some breakfast.”

S
HE WAS SO NERVOUS
she’d already covered up the hole before she realized she’d put no bulb in it. A drop of sweat rolled down her nose and plopped onto the leg of her jeans. She wiped it away impatiently and stabbed her trowel in the dirt to begin again.

“Daddy said you wished to see me.” The voice behind her was stiff.

Jane sat back on her heels, prayed for courage. Wished for Cam, his gawky exuberance.

Then she stood. Faced the daughter over whom she towered. Whom she wanted to love because—

Well, because she should.

You’re the mother,
she chided.
Set the tone.
But she felt blind. Horribly, horribly awkward.

“I did—do,” she stumbled. “Good morning, Cele.”
Oh, yes, you’re doing great. Just grand.
“How are you?”
Any more clichés you’d like to drag out?

“Fine.” Cele stood as stiff as her voice.

“Would you—have you eaten? I could fix you breakfast—”

“I’m not hungry,” Cele said in the same instant. “I have to leave soon.”

“Oh.” Jane’s heart hitched. “I, uh—” Then she remembered what James had told her about Cele and the family business. “To return to your work, I guess. Your father’s very proud of you. We’re proud of you,” she amended.

Cele’s face grew, if anything, stonier. “There’s no need to say that. I know I could be a stranger off the street as far as you’re concerned.”

“I’m sorry.”
Don’t apologize. Well, James, that’s easy for you to say.
“I don’t mean to hurt you. I’m doing all I can to—”

“You didn’t call me,” Cele blurted. “We talk nearly every day. I was worried sick.”

“Oh, Cele—” She longed to go to her, but she was afraid it was the wrong move. Afraid she’d make things worse.

Afraid, afraid, afraid. She was sick to death of living in fear. Always off-balance and scared to take the next step.

Tired of being paralyzed by uncertainty, she moved toward her daughter, who was facing away, arms wrapped around her waist.

Cele had been abandoned in Romania for two years, left to the mercy of baby warehouses and exhausted, ever-changing staffs, James had told her over breakfast.

Did a part of that child always live within the lovely and poised young woman? Compassion had Jane reaching out, laying one hand on Cele’s shoulder.

Cele flinched.

Jane withdrew as if she’d been burned. She started to retreat—

But she found herself with an armful of daughter. Being gripped for dear life.

“You called me Muffin,” Cele whispered. Her tiny frame shook as she fought to hold back sobs.

Muffin.
For a second, an image flickered, then was lost. She grasped for it, a too-quick impression of a little girl with crumbs all around her mouth, a shy grin, a muffin nearly as big as her head clasped in two tiny hands.

When it fled back into the dark maw of her mind, Bella cried out in despair.

Then clutched her daughter to her, instead. “Blueberry.”

Cele’s head rose swiftly, her eyes filled with hope. “Did you—?”

“You were so small.” She thought of the pinched look of the child. “So hungry.”

“Daddy bought me a blueberry muffin in the airport. I don’t remember it because I was only two, but I’ve heard the story a million times.” Longing spilled over her lashes in a silvery stream. “Do you remember that, Mama?”

She fought her own tears. Wanted to give assurances that she should not. “It was so fast, just a little flash, but…”

“But you remembered me.” Cele’s voice was wonder. Excitement. Cele drew away, then hugged her tightly again. “Mama, you remembered me. It’s coming back.”

“Not—” Enough. Not nearly enough. She warmed in her daughter’s embrace and struggled to find another light in the black hole that was her mind, something of Cam, of…him. James. But even that too-swift flare of Cele was gone, and she sought for it so desperately that she felt in danger of tumbling back into the dreaded darkness.

She recoiled from the edge of the cliff.

Cele withdrew. “Are you okay?” Her daughter’s eyes shone so brightly, so wistfully that she couldn’t bear to disappoint her.

“I’m fine,” she said, running one hand over Cele’s fair hair. “Muffin.”

Cele’s smile was the sun. “Let’s go find Daddy and Cam and tell them.”

Expectations can do more harm than good.
Bella shivered under the cloud of Sam’s warning.

But she smiled at the happy girl tugging on her hand. “Let’s do.”

S
HE STOOD APART
from the three of them, the father, so comfortable in his role, so easy with his affection where she was still frozen. James had one arm slung around his son’s neck and his daughter tucked into the other side. The unity was beautiful to watch.

Painful, too.

Even if she could reclaim every second they’d shared in full, glorious color, would the distance that was now a gaping wound heal into only a tiny scar? Or, better, vanish altogether?

What happens when a trust is abridged? She couldn’t recall her own mother, but common sense told her that the bond was unique, that a mother should be someone you can count on, no matter what. Your most vocal cheerleader, your unwavering comfort. The go-to person for sharing both trouble and joy.

Yet she’d vanished from their lives for days upon days that became weeks. Failed, as Cele’s heartrending question illuminated, to even bother with a phone call.

Best Jane could determine, she’d been gone nearly a week when The Incident had happened, the one nobody was ready to discuss. Why had she not phoned them during that time?

Then, of course, she couldn’t. She’d been injured, badly enough to lose consciousness. To have who she was ripped out at the most basic level.

But she wouldn’t think on that now. The point was, she had children. A husband. For whatever reason she’d been traveling, she hadn’t kept in touch with any of them, not even once a day.

What did that, so cold and uncaring, say about who she was? How could they love her if she’d been that callous?

“Mom?” Cam paused before her. “You okay?” He worried about her all the time now, this boy who should be focusing on girls and having fun.

“Fine.” She smiled. Cradled his cheek. Already, he was dear to her, however unfamiliar. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Mom!” Behind him, James chuckled and Cele grinned.

“What? Isn’t a mother supposed to ask these things?”

But the joke fell flat. The wound was still too raw, all of them exceedingly aware that this question was hardly rhetorical.

She glanced away. “I was just…I’m eager to get to know you, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry,” he said hastily.

“No, don’t be.” She rebounded, pasted on a smile. “We’ll figure this out. I promise I’ll get better.” Though her doubts were bigger than these mountains.

“Sure you will. You remembered Cele’s muffin, right? And me as a baby. It’s a start.”

But she was only too aware of the person she did not recall, unless a mental picture of a hand counted.

James’s gaze was solemn as it met hers.

Then he winked and bolstered her with a reassuring smile, as if to say
we’ll get there.

“That’s right.” She grabbed Cam fiercely. “Do your homework,” she said gruffly to battle back tears.

His laughter, all of theirs, was a little ragged.

She let Cam cling, but opened one arm to Cele, who moved into the embrace and held on tight.

For a moment, the warmth of them, of their longing, their sorrow, their love, was light in her darkness. A flame to ward off the predators that were her loneliness, her isolation. Her despair.

She wept for what they had lost, all of them, even as she drank in the sweet surrender children grant to those who care for them.

Within her arose a powerful resolve to fight for this, for them, these hearts that, despite everything, wanted to trust her. Needed her back.

Finally, she made herself let them go when she yearned to cling. To fall to the ground from weariness.

She sniffed and managed a smile, noting that both of them were crying, as well. She grasped a hand from each and squeezed. “Look up and down.”

They were thunderstruck, as was James.

“You always said that,” Cele told her. “Every time we’d go anywhere. You said it came from your grandfather, a reference to watching before you crossed train tracks.”

The hope in their eyes was blinding.

“It’s gonna work, Mom,” Cam said.

“Yes.” For the first time, she began to believe it herself.

She smiled and kissed each of their cheeks, letting her hands trail away, a stroke down the arm, a brush of the hand. “Now, get on the road while there’s still daylight, and—”
You didn’t call me.
Did she dare ask?

Absolutely. “Phone me when you get there, will you?”

Sun-bright smiles, and one more hug for their father, then reluctant steps to the car.

She waved until they could no longer possibly spot her, but she had this sense that if she kept her hand high despite screaming muscles, the benediction would hold. The plea to whoever ruled these mountains that her children would be safe, as she herself had not been.

“Well, it’s just us now.” She hadn’t realized James had walked up behind her until he spoke.

She couldn’t help taking one step to the side.

Shattering the warmth of the moment.

She didn’t know why he made her so nervous. He hadn’t been anything but kind to her.

He was so big, so handsome, so…somehow threatening, and she couldn’t figure it out.

“Yes,” she acknowledged, but couldn’t think what else to say.

The silence was anything but comfortable.

He sighed. “Listen, I’d better, uh, make some calls.”

She had the sense that what he really wanted was to get away from her, and she didn’t protest. She was too raw, too buffeted by emotions.

“I, um…” She glanced around, then seized on the first thing that popped into her mind. “I’ll be helping Luisa can some beans.” Though she wasn’t at all certain Luisa hadn’t already finished.

Even if she could remember her past, she couldn’t imagine that she’d had any moments more awkward than this. “Um, see you later?”

One small shake of the head and an attempt at a smile. “Sure.”

She’d let him down again, that couldn’t be more evident in his walk. She rubbed her forehead, where a headache was brewing. She would be true to her word and check if Luisa needed anything.

But she could barely put one foot in front of the other and thought longingly of the cool darkness of her bedroom and the oblivion, however temporary, it offered.

H
E SHOULD HAVE GONE
with the kids. What was he thinking? Just when she seemed to leap a barrier and he was filled with the same hope he noted in his children’s eyes, when he’d thought they could make some real progress together—

The kids left, and she turned to stone.

Not only did she not love him, he wasn’t at all certain she even liked him. He’d thought differently at breakfast, but…

Did she sense, somehow? Did a part of her know?

He glanced back, where she was walking away, her footsteps dragging. Slow, as if weighed down by grief.

His heart sank. They were having exactly the negative effect Lincoln had warned about. Maybe he should go. Leave her alone.

To do so went against his every instinct. It was his job in life to protect her, to slay her dragons. To shield her from all harm.

But what if he was the chief danger?

James bowed his head. For most of their life together, he and Bella had been completely honest with each other. She was his best friend as much as his lover. There had been no reason to hold back on anything more important than a birthday surprise.

When had all that changed? How had the shift escaped his notice?

She was nearly to the guest quarters, about to disappear from his sight. He longed to race to her, say anything, do whatever was required to be allowed to go inside with her. To pour out his heart, tell her everything. Spend hours, days, weeks catching her up, making her understand that what they had was rare and good and so beautiful that it must continue, had to be saved.

James laughed at himself without mirth. So, exactly how would he begin this recitation?
Bella, you love me even if you don’t remember it, and I cherish you more than my life. There’s just this one thing that happened, and for the life of me, I can’t say how I got to that point, but you have to believe me.

How could she? Why
should
she?

He sagged against the post of the back porch of his enemy’s house and watched his heart vanish from sight.

Sam Lincoln wasn’t his enemy, however; James himself owned that distinction.

Not many things had ever made him want to cry, but the thought of losing Bella went deeper than tears, a dread that sank into his bones. Poisoned him to the marrow.

He shoved away. Damned if he’d go down without a fight. James Parker did not give up on anything he really desired, and there was nothing on earth he craved more than Bella.

He stared at the dirt they’d both touched this morning. Thought about the energy he would have to burn off to get calm.

He’d plant the rest of those bulbs for her, but he would do something more, something better. Something that would lift her heart.

He heard Luisa in the kitchen behind him, and a crafty smile spread.

He went inside to enlist an ally.

W
HEN
B
ELLA OPENED
the door, her curls were sleep tumbled, so familiar and beloved that it was all James could do not to grab her there and then. Bury his face in those curls, wrap his body around hers, sweet-talk her back into bed.

Down, boy.
“I woke you. I’m sorry.”

She glanced at the basket in his hand, then back at him. “No sorrys, remember?” Her voice was husky, and it brought back too many memories of waking her with kisses, slipping inside her before she was fully conscious. Or having her do the same, sliding down onto him with a wicked grin.