by Cheryl Wyatt
Laurel? Tanner? He shuddered, fighting the memory welling up of the U.S. Marshal driving away in a black SUV. Isabella in the window, cradling a six-month-old in her arms, and a little chestnut-haired boy, just two, waving bye-bye.
He swallowed hard. His lost children were here, in Texas. In Grasslands? Within driving distance? All this time he’d grieved for them, missed them with his entire heart for twenty-five years and now the two sets of twins were reunited? They’d found one another?
No, he shook his head, refusing to believe it. It couldn’t be true. The hardest thing he’d ever done was let them go. But he’d had to make an impossible choice to protect his family from unspeakable danger.
“We’re together now, Dad.” Maddie’s happiness was real. Her hands around his were real. “The only one missing is you.”
Her words finally sank in. Realization crashed over him like a cold ocean wave, washing away disbelief.
This was really happening. It wasn’t a hallucination or fever, born from his illness. He rubbed his hand over his face, took a deep breath and willed his heart rate to slow.
“Isabella.” For twenty-five years—nearly all of his adult life—he’d been without her. And for good reason, he’d told himself. He’d done his best not to think of her for over two decades. That’s the way he wanted it.
How could he tell his kids that? Maddie with her delight, Grayson actually smiling and Carter relaxed and at peace. This was good news for them.
But it wasn’t good news. He thought about the reason for their separation in the first place. Was it safe to reunite the twins? What about the murderous drug dealer they’d been hiding from? His stomach clenched tightly as he pressed his hands to his face, overwhelmed.
“Violet and Jack are waiting to meet you, Dad.” Carter stood, holding out his hand. “C’mon. I’ll drive you.”
“Good, because I’m not steady.” A lot had changed in twenty-five years, but not his love for his kids—for all of his kids. He took Carter’s hand. “Then let’s go.”
As for Isabella, he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. The last thing he wanted was to see her again.
* * *
“Mom, you don’t have to be so stubborn.”
“Me, stubborn?” Belle gripped her walker, refusing to give in to the limitations her head injury and consequent coma had left her with. She had work to do—work she missed back home on the ranch—and being cooped up in Ranchland Manor wasn’t in her plans for much longer. “What makes you say that?”
“Oh, no reason.” Violet, her beautiful, redheaded daughter, rolled her eyes. “Will you get in bed already?”
“I’m not sleepy.” The evening was still lovely, with the big Texas sky stretching like a soft blue canvas. She missed horseback riding beneath that canopy with the wind on her face. She breathed in, longing for the tangy scent of grass and open prairie. The biggest problem with being stuck in this place was the walls. At forty-three, Belle lived a very active lifestyle and liked her wide-open spaces. Maybe that had to do with those early years when she’d been in hiding, when her children were small.
“Mom, you’re here to heal, remember?” Jack, her handsome, strapping son, tugged around the armchair, so it would face the window instead of the bed. “Can you take it easy for once?”
“That would be against my better judgment.”
“Do something because we ask, okay?” Jack took her elbow.
“Yeah, Mom, it won’t kill you, right?” Violet’s loving laughter filled the room.
“It might,” she quipped, clunking the walker to a stop beside the armchair. Here came the hard part. She stopped her walker a few inches away, giving her just enough distance so that she would have to take a step on her own.
“Do you have to do everything the hard way?” Jack’s dry humor washed over her, making it easy to push off from the walker and lurch toward the chair. His strong hand banded her elbow, assisting her. Violet caught her other arm and she plopped onto the cushion. Goal achieved.
“Next time, it will be two steps,” she declared, determined to push along her recovery from what they hoped was a temporary deficit of motor functions.
“Next time, it better not be.” Violet plucked Belle’s hairbrush off the nightstand. “You don’t know what we went through when you fell off your horse and had to be rushed to the hospital.”
“Our world stopped turning.” Gruff, Jack turned away, striding fast to the window. He planted his hand on his hips, staring out at the courtyard, his whole body reverberating with emotion.
“I hate that you were worried.” She hadn’t been there to comfort them or to ease their troubles, because she’d been in a deep coma. It tore her apart. All she’d ever wanted was to be there for her children.
“Worried doesn’t begin to describe it.” Violet leaned in, brushing Belle’s thick auburn hair. “Terrified.”
“Heartsick,” Jack groused.
“You waking up was the best thing that could have happened.” Violet blinked dampness from her eyes.
“The doctors say you are a wonder, too, coming back to us with hardly any impairment.” Jack didn’t turn from the window, but his gratitude vibrated in his voice.
“Which I’m grateful to God for. He is good.” Belle patted her daughter’s arm, love brimming for them, her precious children. More grateful for them because of the two children she’d left behind. “My big problem is how do I convince the doctors to stop with the tests? That’s what I want to know.”
“Think of it this way,” Violet suggested. “The quicker all the testing is done, the sooner you can recover. The faster you can recover, the sooner you can come home.”
“Home.” Nothing sounded as good. To be in her own bed, to sit in the peaceful quiet of her living room and watch the horses graze in the paddock. The restless wind, the crisp scent of fall-becoming-winter air, feeling the sun on her back as she walked through the fields. That’s the medicine she needed right now. She’d never been one to sit around and let grass grow under her boots. “Any chance either of you can smuggle me out?”
“Funny.” Violet moved around the chair, tackling the other side of Belle’s hair. Across the room Jack’s phone buzzed. He reached into his pocket to check the screen. When he did, he traded looks with Violet.
Significant looks. As if Violet fully understood, she set aside the brush.
“You’re looking lovely, Mom.” A quick squint, a frown, and then she brushed a shock of hair behind Belle’s ear. “There. Absolutely stunning.”
“Okay, what’s up with you two? What are you not telling me? Don’t even try to deny it, because I know that look.” Belle couldn’t explain why her pulse lurched into an unsteady gallop, as if she could feel a change in the air. “Where are Maddie and Grayson?”
“On their way.” Jack’s jaw tensed as he leaned back, resting on the windowsill.
“They should be here any minute.” Violet’s hands fumbled as she reached for a barrette. “One more touch, and you’ll be perfect. Dad won’t be able to catch his breath.”
“Did you say— No, that’s not right.” Belle shook her head. Something had to be wrong with her brain because she’d thought she’d heard...
“Dad. I like the sound of that.” Jack launched to his feet, facing the doorway. “It’s good to meet you. So good.”
Dad? A tall, well-built man towered just out of reach of the light. She blinked, trying to bring the shadow into focus, but she didn’t need to see him to know his identity. Her heart leaped and tingles flickered down her spine in recognition. Tears burned behind her eyes as he strode into the light, whole and safe. Her ex-husband, more handsome than ever, and distinguished with a touch of gray in his dark hair. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been eighteen, nearly nineteen.
“Come in. It’s so good to finally meet you.” Violet dashed across the room and into her father’s arms.
“You were just a little thing when I saw you last.” Brian’s voice, still familiar after all this time, sounded tortured with emotion. He blinked dampness from his eyes as he reached out to hold his son. Jack hesitated a moment, as if he were unsure, before stepping into his father’s hug. “You were just a toddler, Jack. I would lay you on my chest and rock you until you fell asleep.”
“I don’t remember. Wish I did.” Jack swallowed, obviously wrestling with emotion as he stepped back. Only then did she notice her other children—the exact duplicates of Violet and Jack—slipping into the room. Carter hung back, watching the reunion.
There had been a lot of reunions in this family lately. There was only one more left. She straightened her spine, bracing for it, while at the same time wishing there was some way to get out of facing her ex.
“Isabella.” He choked on her name, frozen in place halfway to the bed, fisting his hands.
Maybe he was debating the merits of turning heel and leaving, so he didn’t have to deal with her. Or perhaps he was just as shocked as she was with the reality of seeing him again.
There’d been a time when she had believed she’d never be in the same room with him. That there would be no possible way. Life could sure surprise you.
“Brian.” She lifted her chin. No way was she going to let anyone know this was killing her. Put on a smile, she told herself, and welcome him. This was about the kids, not her. “You’re looking well. I’m thankful for that. We’ve all feared for you.”
“I understand the same can be said of you.” A muscle ticked along his strong jaw. Time had matured him, drew character in his face and pleasant lines around his eyes. “It’s good to see you.”
She couldn’t meet his gaze, although she could feel it sweep along her face. She tried to answer him, but words stuck in her throat and refused to budge. It wasn’t good to see him again. It was agony.
“Maybe we should leave you two alone to talk,” one of the girls suggested—maybe Maddie? Belle didn’t dare look up to see for sure. Staring at a polished fingernail—the girls had given her a manicure this morning—gave her something to do as the kids left the room, calling out promises to talk later to Brian, that they couldn’t wait to share the good news with their significant others. As their voices and footsteps faded, silence settled in—or what silence she could make out over the thump of her heart echoing in her ears.
Brain came closer, then halted again.
“You don’t have to see me if you don’t want to.” His baritone turned tender and smoky, the way it always had when it had just been the two of them.
Images assailed her—of them standing side by side at the boys’ cribs while they slept. Of Brian bringing her a steaming cup of her favorite tea while she nursed newborn Grayson, with Tanner tucked in one of his arms. And less than two years later, of the pride and stark love on his face in the delivery room when they both drank in the sight of their beautiful newborn daughters. She could still feel his kiss to her forehead, so sweet her soul ached.
“It’s fine.” She found the courage she needed to meet his gaze. A stranger’s gaze, she told herself stubbornly. That young man she’d loved—that teenager who’d stood beside her as husband and best friend—no longer existed. Just as she was no longer that same starry-eyed girl.
A lifetime separated them. And always would.
ISBN: 9781460301203
Copyright © 2013 by Cheryl Wyatt
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