Return of the Prodigal Son

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  He paused and smiled. “Not only my mom, but my grandfather. Now there was a real nag.”

  Cory paused. “Did you see your grandfather a lot?”

  “Every day. He lived with us.”

  “Why?” Cory dropped a handful of shirts and sat back on his heels.

  “After my father died, Pop moved in with us. I think it was only going to be for a little while, until my mom could pull things together. But then she decided to go back to college and then law school, and he just stayed.”

  “That’s pretty neat.” Cory began rummaging through another box, hoping to find more than dingy shirts and jeans. “I think our grandparents are mad at us.”

  “Now why do you say that?” Donovan picked up the clothes scattered across the floor and sofa and began carrying them toward the laundry room.

  Cory trailed behind. “‘Cause we haven’t seen them since our dad died.”

  “Maybe they’re hurting.”

  The boy shook his head and bent to retrieve a sock that had fallen from Donovan’s arms. “Mom let us call them a few times. Gramps always said Grandma couldn’t come to the phone. She was busy or shopping or out with friends. But she never called back.”

  “How about your mom’s parents?”

  “Her mom is dead. And her dad lives in California with his new wife. He wanted us to come and stay with him for a while, but Mom said we belong here.”

  Donovan sorted the clothes into piles and started the washer. Then he led the way back to the front room, where Taylor was happily studying an assortment of masks she’d found in one of the boxes.

  “Look at me, Cory,” she called, holding a mask to her face.

  “You look weird.” He turned to Donovan. “Where’d you get those?”

  “A village in Africa. They were a gift from the chief.” He crossed the room. “Let’s put them on this shelf, Taylor.”

  The little girl used a stool to reach the shelf, where she began arranging the masks in a row.

  Cory walked over to help, studying the intricate design of the mask he pulled from a box. “Why did the chief want to give you a gift?”

  “Because I helped him out with a little problem.”

  “What kind of problem?”

  Donovan smiled, remembering. “I helped him end a little war.” He stood back. “They look good there, Taylor. I think I’ll hire you as my decorator.”

  The little girl giggled.

  Cory moved to the next box and opened it to reveal a pair of high-powered binoculars. As he lifted them to his eyes and began fiddling with the dials, he let out a hoot of excitement. “Wow. I can see every feather on that bird up in that tree.” He fiddled some more and then, unwilling to believe what he was seeing, held the glasses away, then back to his eyes. “Donovan, I can see the bird’s eye. And the speckles on his feathers.”

  “Yeah. They’re pretty powerful.”

  The boy ran to a window and continued peering at everything, amazed at what he could see through them. Soon he was distracted by Taylor’s yelp of pleasure when she found, in another box, an assortment of pottery and baskets. “These are pretty, Donovan.” She held up an intricately woven basket. “Can we put them on the shelves, too?”

  “Sure, honey. You hand them to me and I’ll put them up here.” He began arranging the baskets and pottery, then added a few of the bigger pots beside the fireplace. “How’s this?”

  “Pretty.” She dimpled, enjoying her task as decorator.

  Cory walked up beside him and knelt beside one of the baskets. “Where’d you get all this stuff?”

  Donovan shrugged. “Here and there. Some of this is from Colombia, some from Guatemala.” He chuckled as he fingered one of the pieces of pottery. “This is from Nigeria. An old woman handed it to me as I was getting on the plane and told me it had belonged to her mother.”

  “Why did she give it to you?”

  “She wanted to thank me. For getting her son out of some trouble.”

  “Were you a policeman?” Taylor asked.

  “In a way. Sort of a global policeman.”

  “Weren’t you ever afraid?” Cory looked up from the box he was rummaging through.

  Donovan sat back on his heels. “Sometimes. Everybody is afraid of something. Whether it’s a fear of strangers or a fear of flying or a fear of snakes or spiders.”

  Taylor shivered. “I’m afraid of all those things.”

  “You’re scared of everything,” Cory scoffed. “Even your own shadow.”

  “Am not.”

  “Are, too.”

  She relented. “Maybe I am. But I can’t help it.” She turned to Donovan. “What do you do when you’re scared?”

  “If I have something important to do, I just put aside my fear and deal with whatever comes my way. Otherwise I’ll let fear rule my life. Not only rule it, but ruin it. And I just can’t do that.”

  Taylor looked at him adoringly. “Are you stronger than Superman?”

  He chuckled. “Sorry. I’m not even close. But we can all act like him when we’re in trouble. And do you know why?”

  The two children, staring at him with rapt attention, shook their heads.

  He touched a finger to his temple. “Because this is where our strength lies. Our brain. If we think things through and refuse to give in to our fears, we can get through almost any dangerous situation.”

  Cory pulled out a ragged coat from the bottom of a box and held it up. “Why would you keep something like this?”

  Donovan looked over. Something flickered in his eyes before he composed himself. “That was my father’s. Even though it’s falling apart, I like wearing it.” He took it from the boy’s hands and hung it almost reverently on a hook by the front door. Then he pointed toward the kitchen. “Come on. There are lots more boxes in there. Let’s get to work.”

  After unloading her groceries at her house, Andi maneuvered her van up the gravel path toward Donovan’s. She hadn’t intended to be gone so long, but it had taken her a while to find the cleaners, the bank and the post office in a strange town. She figured by now Donovan was probably ready to tear out his hair trying to deal with Taylor and Cory and the million questions they were sure to pester him with. It couldn’t be easy for a solitary man like him to have two little kids underfoot for hours.

  She came to a stop and climbed out. The thought of what she’d bought had her smiling. He’d asked for only milk, bread, eggs and fruit. But when she’d opened her hand and found two crisp hundred-dollar bills, she couldn’t resist buying him a few more staples.

  She wondered if he knew how much he’d given her. Probably not. Maybe he thought he’d given her twenty-dollar bills instead of hundreds. At any rate, she had scrupulously accounted for every penny she’d spent.

  She lifted a bag of groceries and started toward the porch, expecting to see her children racing out to meet her. Instead, her knock was greeted with silence.

  Puzzled, she opened the door and looked around in amazement. The boxes were gone. The litter had disappeared. The shelves, which had stood empty, were now arranged with an assortment of fascinating items.

  She set the bag on a coffee table and noted idly that it had been polished to a high shine. In fact, the entire room had been transformed. Now that she could see the sofa, it looked new and very expensive. As were the two wing chairs on either side of the fireplace. The rug on the floor was Oriental and gorgeous. The candlesticks on the mantel appeared to be excellent crystal.

  Hearing laughter from the back of the house, she made her way there and paused in the doorway of the kitchen. Donovan was folding clothes. Cory and Taylor were seated at the table eating something from bowls and using chopsticks.

  Chopsticks?

  “Mom.” Cory looked up, obviously delighted. “Look. Donovan’s teaching us to eat like he did in Beijing. These chopsticks belonged to the family he lived with there.”

  “Beijing?” She arched a brow. “You lived in China?”

  “Just for a little
while.”

  “He can speak Mandarin. And seven languages. Go ahead, Donovan. Say something in Portuguese.”

  “You speak…Portuguese?”

  He shrugged. “Not very well. Just enough to get by.”

  Feeling slightly confused, Andi nodded toward the bowls. “I thought you were out of food.”

  “Pretty much. But I remembered that I had some rice, and Cory and Taylor wanted to try eating with chopsticks. Of course, if it were a true traditional meal, I’d have had to go dig up some grubs.”

  “Grubs?” Her eyes narrowed, and she wondered if he was having fun with her.

  He set a pile of clean shirts to one side and touched a finger to her cheek. “You sound like a parrot. Did you bring food?”

  “Food. Yes.” She fought to ignore the thrill that streaked down her spine at his touch. What in the world was wrong with her? “It’s out in my van.”

  “Good. I’ll get it.”

  “I’ll help.” Cory was up like a flash.

  “Me, too.” Taylor wasn’t about to be left behind.

  While the three of them were gone, Andi took a moment to look around the sparkling kitchen. The dishes in the open cupboards appeared to be English bone china, and very beautiful. An open drawer revealed exquisite Irish linen cloths. The pottery on the counter had a definite South American flavor. And the elegant tea set was Oriental.

  Donovan and the children returned, laughing and chatting as they began unloading the bags and stashing the food. It occurred to Andi that they seemed as easy and natural as though they’d always been doing this together.

  Donovan held up a package of pasta. “Is this for me?”

  Andi blushed slightly. “I just thought you might want more than milk, bread and eggs.”

  “But pasta requires cooking. And I only cook if I’m having company.”

  “I’m sorry. I just thought…”

  Before she could finish Donovan winked at Cory and Taylor. “Looks like you’re staying for supper.” He filled a pottery bowl with fresh fruit and set it to one side of the counter before catching the look of surprise on Andi’s face. “Oh. Sorry. You’re invited too, of course.”

  “You…cook?”

  He gave a rumble of laughter. “I’m a man of many talents, Mrs. Brady, of which cooking is but one.” He nodded toward the doorway. “Now why don’t you kids take your mother into the living room and show her what we managed to accomplish while she was off having fun in town.”

  “Come on, Mom.” Cory caught her hand, and Taylor took her other hand.

  She dug in her heels. “But what can I do to help?”

  “You can relax. Put your feet up. Take the rest of the day off, Mrs. Brady. The kids and I have everything under control.”

  “Oh, wait.” She dug into her pocket and handed him some money. “Your change.”

  “Thanks.” Without even glancing at it, he shoved it into his pocket while the two children led her from the room.

  She was, she thought as she allowed herself to be directed toward the front room, feeling a little like Alice when she fell down the tunnel. Where in the world had she landed? Who were these laughing, happy aliens? And what had they done with her surly son and shy daughter?

  Chapter 7

  Donovan carried a tray into the front room, where Taylor was showing her mother the collection of masks.

  “Donovan said I could set them on this shelf. Didn’t I do a good job?”

  “A very good job, honey.”

  “Donovan says I’m always going to be his decorator.”

  “I can see why.” Andi turned when she caught sight of Donovan setting the tray on the coffee table. “Is everything all right?”

  “Everything’s perfect. I’ve got my pasta sauce simmering, and the salad chilling.” He handed her a glass of red wine. “I think you’ll like this. I picked it up in Spain a few months ago. They make some fabulous wines.”

  She sipped and nodded. “You’re right. I love it.”

  “Good.” He motioned toward the tray. “Soda for you two.”

  Cory and Taylor helped themselves to frosty glasses while Donovan poured himself some wine.

  Taylor walked to the window. “Do you think the woodchuck ate the carrots, Donovan?”

  He smiled. “Why don’t you go outside and check.”

  “Will you come with me, Cory?”

  The boy crossed to the door. “Sure.” He turned to Donovan. “Can we take our soda with us?”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  As the two ran outside, Andi walked to the window to watch. When Donovan stepped up beside her she turned to him with a smile. “I can’t believe what you’ve managed to accomplish in a matter of hours.”

  “You mean the clutter.”

  She shook her head. “I mean my children. I haven’t seen them this relaxed in a year.” She lowered her voice. “What kind of miracle worker are you?”

  He tugged on a lock of her hair. “No miracles here. We just had a grand time together. And why not? They’re great kids, Andi.”

  She ducked her head. “I know. Sometimes, after they’re asleep at night, I’m riddled with guilt because I spent the entire day nagging and preaching, instead of praising them for all the things they did right.”

  “There you go again. Beating yourself up for no reason.” He caught her by the chin and lifted her face. Such a sweet face. So perfect, it had the breath catching in his throat. “They know you love them. They feel the same way about you.”

  “There are days when I’d give you a good argument about that.”

  “The three of you are simply caught in a storm right now. And all you can do is ride it out. Very soon you’ll find yourselves in calm seas.”

  She couldn’t hold back the sigh as she stepped back. “You make it sound so simple.”

  “Life’s never simple. But there’s no reason to complicate it further with guilt. You’re doing the best you can. So are they.”

  She set her glass aside and touched her hands to her temples. “Please don’t tell me I’ll look back on this one day and laugh.”

  “What you’ve been through isn’t funny. A hundred years from now it still won’t be funny. But you will be able to look back one day and feel a sense of pride about how you handled it.”

  “Promise?”

  He nodded and set down his own glass. “Promise. Now, let me do that.”

  She looked up at him. “Do what?”

  “Ease that headache.”

  “How did you…?”

  Very gently he took hold of her hands and lowered them before pressing his thumbs to her temples, moving them in slow, rhythmic circles.

  It was the most purely erotic feeling she’d ever known. With just the touch of his hands she could feel her entire body respond. Her heartbeat sped up. Her blood heated and her bones seemed to melt, until she marveled that her legs were still able to hold her.

  Her voice was equally hypnotic. “When I was a kid my mother used to kiss away my hurts.”

  “I’ll take that as an invitation.”

  “I didn’t mean…”

  “Shh.”

  She could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek as he ever so softly brushed his mouth over her temple, her forehead, the tip of her nose. Without willing it, her eyes closed and she swayed toward him, offering her lips.

  It seemed an eternity before he lowered his mouth to hers. When he did, there was an explosion of color behind her closed lids, and she felt as if the whole room dipped and swayed. She was forced to hold on to him for fear of falling.

  He took the kiss deeper and heard her sigh as she gave herself up to it. The need for her was so sharp, so swift, if left him stunned and reeling.

  “Donovan…” She started to push away.

  “Wait.” He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her closer, feeling her in every part of his body. “I’m not ready to let you go just yet. One more kiss.”

  “The children…”

  He
cut off her protest with a hard, quick kiss that had them both moaning with impatience as they strained to get closer.

  Andi was shocked at her response. She had her hands on him, and she wanted, more than anything in the world, to crawl inside his skin, though she feared even that wouldn’t be enough. The wanting was unlike anything she’d ever known. As compelling as the pull of the tide. Even though a part of her mind was sending warning signals, her body chose to ignore them. With each touch he took her higher. With each kiss, she was in deeper.

  “Let’s tell Mom.”

  At the sound of Cory’s voice, Andi pulled away. She could hear the hurried footsteps as the children sprinted up on the porch. By the time the door slammed, she and Donovan had managed to step apart. But just barely. Their chests rose and fell with each ragged breath.

  “Me first, Cory.”

  “Okay. Tell her.”

  “The carrots are all gone,” Taylor said proudly.

  “Oh, honey.” Andi had to swallow twice to find her voice. “That’s wonderful. I’ll bet it was the woodchuck.”

  “Uh-huh. Isn’t that great, Donovan?”

  He fumbled for his wine, noting that his hand was unsteady. “It sure is. I told you he’s shy. He likes to do his eating alone.”

  “Can I leave him more carrots tomorrow, Mama?”

  “I don’t see why not.” Andi knew her cheeks were flushed, which only made her all the more uncomfortable.

  She could see her son staring at her, and wondered if he could tell just by looking at her that she’d been kissing Donovan.

  Kissing? As she reached for her wine she nearly laughed aloud. They hadn’t been so much kissing as attacking each other. Devouring. It occurred to Andi that if her children hadn’t been here, she and Donovan would already be rolling across the floor.

  The image had her sweating.

  Donovan noted her eyes were a little too bright and her cheeks were suffused with color.

  He gave her a wink that had the color deepening. “I think I’ll check my pasta sauce.”

  Cory started after him. “Can I help?”

  “Sure. In fact, you can all help.”

  Delighted, Taylor danced ahead of her mother. At the door Donovan paused until Andi caught up with him.