The Way Home

by Irene Hannon

  “I have some other news.”

  Amy heard the undertone of excitement in Kate’s voice and held her breath. “You have my full attention.”

  “We’re going to have a baby!”

  Amy’s heart soared. Kate and Jack had been trying unsuccessfully for five years to start the family they both wanted, but it had been a frustrating and disheartening process. Amy knew that over the last year Kate had begun to lose hope, had struggled to come to grips with the fact that perhaps it simply wasn’t meant to be. And now this!

  “Oh, Kate, I’m thrilled! When are you due?”

  “October 26. I’ve known for a couple of weeks, but we wanted to make sure everything was okay before we told anyone.”

  “I bet Mom is excited.”

  “Ecstatic. A grandmother at last!”

  They chatted excitedly for a few more minutes, but when Amy at last replaced the receiver, her euphoric mood suddenly evaporated. She was happy for Kate, of course. That went without saying. She knew how much her sister wanted a family. But she also had an odd and unexpected feeling of melancholy, which puzzled her. It wasn’t as if she would want to change places with Kate. She liked her life, had worked hard to make her ambitious goals a reality and was now beginning to reap the rewards of all her hard work. But the price had been high. Too high, according to her mother, who made it a point to occasionally remind her younger daughter that her success had come at the expense of other things. Like a personal life. And a husband. And a family.

  As if she didn’t know, Amy thought with a sigh. She took a sip of her now-tepid tea and leaned back against the couch. It wasn’t that she didn’t want those things. It was just that now was not the time for them. Which didn’t mean that she was immune to loneliness, she admitted. There were times when she yearned for a caring touch, or a simple, loving look, or the comfort of knowing that someone was waiting for her at the end of the day. But throughout the years she’d learned a lot about self-discipline and delayed gratification. Someday she’d go after those things, applying the same single-minded determination with which she was now pursuing her career goals. But she couldn’t do both at once, and right now her career took priority.

  Her gaze drifted to the roses, and she reached out to gently touch a velvety petal. She had to admit that she’d enjoyed her rare social evening last night. She’d been pleasantly surprised by Cal Richards, had begun to see him in a new and appealing light. He seemed like a decent, caring, considerate man. Under other circumstances, maybe something could have developed between them, despite their differences. But Amy didn’t have the time. And she was pretty sure Cal didn’t have the inclination.

  “So how did the big date go on Fri—good grief! What happened to you?”

  Cal glanced up at Cynthia, who was staring at him wide-eyed. “I have a black eye,” he replied dryly.

  “I can see that. Was there a brawl at the restaurant or something?”

  “We didn’t go to a restaurant. We stayed at her place and ordered in.”

  Cynthia’s mouth dropped open. “For five hundred bucks you give her takeout? Well, that explains it. I’d have socked you, too, after paying that kind of money for a date.”

  Cal smiled. “That’s not quite what happened.”

  Cynthia dropped into the chair across from his desk. “I didn’t think so. Tell me everything.”

  “I got mugged in the parking lot of her apartment.”

  Once more Cynthia’s eyes grew wide. “Mugged! You’re kidding!”

  “Those were her exact words when she opened the door. And, as I said then, do I look like I’m kidding?”

  Cynthia eyed him speculatively. “I guess not. What happened?”

  “Two thugs jumped me. They got my money, I got a bloody nose and a black eye. Considering the circumstances, she very graciously consented to eat in.”

  “So what did you get? Pizza?”

  “You’re two for two, now. Her words, again. And no, we didn’t get pizza. I have a friend in the restaurant business who sent something over.”

  “What restaurant?”

  When he told her, she gave a low whistle. “Now that’s a carryout! I bet the lady was impressed.”

  “She seemed to enjoy it.”

  “So…are you going to see her again?”

  He looked at her in surprise. “Why would I?”

  “Didn’t you like her?”

  Cal frowned. As a matter of fact he had—despite himself. She had many qualities that he found appealing—and intriguing. She was a woman of paradoxes—gung-ho about her career, as well as smart, savvy, ambitious and willing to push hard to get the job done, but also a woman who seemed to find aggressiveness and the in-your-face demands of her profession distasteful and who clearly had solid moral and ethical values.

  However, it was equally clear that the two of them had very different priorities. Even under ideal conditions—and the fact that she was a newswoman pursuing him as a source was definitely not ideal—he doubted whether anything serious could ever develop between them.

  “Well, if you have to think that long about it, I guess I have my answer,” Cynthia said dryly. “But not to worry. We’ll find you somebody yet, Cal.”

  Cal shook his head. “Give it up, Cyn. I don’t have the time.”

  “You should make the time.”

  “Now you sound like my grandmother.”

  “I’m sure she’s a very wise woman.”

  “She is. And you’re both right. And I’ll get around to it one of these days.”

  “Hmph. By the time you get around to it, there won’t be anything left to get,” she said pertly as she turned to go.

  Cal watched her exit. At thirty-four, he didn’t exactly consider himself over-the-hill. But he was well past the age when most of his friends and acquaintances had married. In fact, many of them had a couple of kids by now. Though he’d admitted it to no one, the notion of “settling down,” as his grandmother would say, held more and more appeal for him these days. It would be nice to have a wife and children to come home to at the end of the day. Trouble was, his day often didn’t end until well into the night, which wasn’t conducive to family life. At least, not the kind of family life he wanted.

  Which brought him back once again to the tough choice he was facing. Stay in the city to fight for justice and continue building his promising career, or make a radical lifestyle change and return to the mountains where his soul was most at peace. Considering his unsettled state, it wouldn’t be fair to pursue a romance. Besides, only a very special woman would understand why he was discontent with his life in the city, why he was drawn so strongly to the mountains, when in the eyes of the world he seemed to have it all—success, prestige, the potential for power. And he seriously doubted whether Amy Winter was that woman.

  Cal frowned. Why in the world had Amy popped into his mind again, and in such an odd context? It didn’t matter in the least if she understood his motivations. Their contact in the future would be limited, and purely of a professional nature.

  A week ago that scenario would have made him happy. But for some inexplicable reason, it now left him feeling vaguely depressed.

  “That should do it, Steve,” Amy said as she closed her notebook.

  The cameraman extinguished the light and took the Minicam off his shoulder as Amy turned back to Michael Sloan, the director of the youth center.

  “All we need now is some B-roll footage as background,” she said. “Can we do a walk-through, see some of the activities in progress?”

  “Sure.” He rose and led them down the hall to a small but well-equipped computer lab. Boys ranging in age from seven or eight to mid-teens were using every available piece of equipment under the supervision of an older man, who smiled at them when they entered.

  “That’s John Williams, one of the volunteers,” the director told Amy. “As I mentioned earlier, our volunteers are the backbone of this place. They not only provide much-needed manpower, but act as great role model
s for the boys, many of whom are from broken homes without a father figure.”

  He introduced Amy to the volunteer, and with the man’s consent, she spoke with him for a few minutes on camera.

  They stopped in a few other rooms, where a variety of activities, from woodworking and drawing to rehearsal for a theater production, were in progress.

  “The other big part of our program is sports,” Michael told her as he ushered them down the hall toward the gym. “We have athletic activities scheduled every night. Tonight it’s basketball, and we are incredibly fortunate to have a prominent local attorney as one of our coaches. He’s working with the young-teen team right now. He’s a bit camera-shy, but I’ll see what I can do to convince him to give you an interview.”

  Amy frowned. An attorney. Camera shy. Saint Vincent’s Boy’s Club. Her step faltered. Wasn’t Saint Vincent’s the charity Candace Bryce had referenced when she introduced Cal at the charity bachelor auction? Hadn’t she said something about him participating only because Saint Vincent’s would benefit? Amy hadn’t made the connection until now. But surely there were other attorneys who volunteered here, she reassured herself. It would be too much of a coincidence if he happened to be here the very night she’d come to do her story. Yet somehow, deep inside, she sensed that, coincidence or not, it was him.

  Amy’s heart began to pound. She didn’t want to intrude on Cal’s off-duty “turf.” It was too…well, personal. Since their “date” two weeks before, their only contact had been in the courtroom, and then only an occasional, fleeting connecting of gazes. He hadn’t acknowledged the thank-you note she’d sent him for the flowers, nor had she expected him to. Their limited contact had been impersonal and therefore safe. Which was fine with her. Something strange had happened that night as he was leaving her apartment. The unexpected sizzle of electricity that had sparked between them had left her rattled. For whatever reason, Cal Richards was a distraction, and distractions were not something she needed at this point in her career.

  Michael stopped at the gym door and pushed it open for her to enter. “A lot of the boys in here would be on the streets if it wasn’t for people like Cal Richards,” he said, confirming Amy’s premonition.

  Her heart stopped, then raced on. She hesitated, and both the director and Steve looked at her questioningly.

  “Something wrong, Amy?” Steve asked.

  She forced herself to take a deep breath. She knew her reaction was totally illogical. After all, she’d covered any number of stories that had put her in physical danger or resulted in threats of bodily harm, and she’d always remained calm and cool. This situation was a piece of cake compared to that. She could handle this, she told herself reassuringly.

  But as she stepped to the door, the sight of Cal in his tank T-shirt and sweatpants, with biceps to rival a Mr. World candidate she’d once interviewed, made her long for the relative safety of a bank robbery or an impending tornado. However, since both Steve and Michael were staring at her curiously, she was left with no choice but to enter the gym.

  “Just taking a moment to observe,” she replied belatedly to Steve’s question. His skeptical look as she brushed past told her he didn’t buy her response, but it was the best she could do.

  “I’ll see what I can do about that interview,” Michael said. “Excuse me for just a minute.”

  “So what gives?” Steve asked the moment the director was out of earshot.

  Amy gazed after Michael as he headed toward the group of boys clustered around Cal. “It’s just that the assistant prosecuting attorney and I have…clashed…a few times.”

  Steve followed her gaze. “You and every other member of the press in Atlanta. Join the club. Haven’t you given up on him yet?”

  “I don’t give up,” Amy said determinedly. “I still go to the courthouse almost every day. But so far, no luck.”

  Just then Cal looked her way, and their gazes met for one brief moment before he turned back to Michael and said a few words. Then he directed his attention to the boys, and Michael rejoined them.

  “No luck on the interview, I’m afraid,” he apologized. “Cal’s one of our biggest supporters—in a lot of ways—but he keeps it low-profile. His motives are purely altruistic, and he has no interest in personal recognition or accolades. However, when I explained to him that this feature would be good for Saint Vincent’s and might encourage others to support our work, he did agree to some—what did you call it— B-roll filming?”

  “That will be fine, Michael,” Amy assured him. “I think we have plenty of other shots, so we’ll just film for a few minutes here and then wrap it up.”

  “Great.” He glanced at his watch and frowned. “I hate to run, but my daughter is in a school play tonight, and I’ll just be able to make it if I leave now. Would you mind if I took off while you finish up?”

  “Not at all,” Amy assured him. “Thank you for your help.”

  “Thank you,” he replied, shaking her hand. “You can’t imagine how much this kind of publicity will mean to Saint Vincent’s.”

  “I hope so. You do good work here, and you deserve all the support you can get.”

  “Thanks.” He shook hands with Steve, as well. “Feel free to spend as much time as you like here. Cal just asked that you try to keep him in the background as much as possible when you film.”

  “No problem,” Steve assured him, hoisting his Minicam into position.

  “I’ll wait over there,” Amy said, nodding toward the corner where a youngster sat alone on a folding chair, watching them curiously. “Good night, Michael.”

  “Good night.”

  As Steve scoped out the gym for angles, Amy wandered over to the little boy of about seven, who was sitting on his hands, his legs wrapped around the legs of the chair. She sat beside him and smiled.

  “Hi. My name’s Amy. What’s yours?”

  “Mark.” He spoke softly and hung his head.

  “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Mark.” She nodded toward the court. “Do you play basketball?”

  He shook his head. “I’m too little.”

  “But not for long. Pretty soon you’ll be just as big as those guys out there.”

  He looked up at her shyly. “I hope I can play as good as my brother. He’s on the team. Mr. Richards says I have po-po-potential.”

  He struggled with the complicated word, and Amy smiled. “Then I’m sure you do.”

  “Mr. Richards lets me watch. He says I can learn a lot by watching. And sometimes, when the practice is over, he shows me how to hold the ball and how to throw.”

  “Sounds like he’s very nice.”

  Mark nodded vigorously. “I like to talk to him. He listens real good.” Mark glanced toward Steve. “What’s he doing?”

  “He’s shooting some video for a story we’re going to do on the news about Saint Vincent’s.”

  “Wow! You mean we’re going to be on TV?”

  “Yes.”

  “How come?”

  “Because Saint Vincent’s is a good place, and we want to let other people know about it.”

  “I like it here,” Mark affirmed. “Sometimes it’s not real nice at home, when my mom is sick, so Troy—that’s my brother—and I come here and do stuff.”

  “That should be a wrap, Amy. You want anything else?”

  She looked up at Steve. “I think we’re done. Thanks, Steve.”

  “No problem. Want me to walk you to your car?”

  “Sure.” Saint Vincent’s wasn’t in the safest neighborhood, and Amy didn’t take unnecessary chances.

  “Let me just check in and see where I need to go next.”

  “Do you want to use my phone?” She reached for her purse, but he shook his head.

  “Mine’s in the bag. I’ll stow this stuff, then call. Just give me a couple of minutes.”

  Amy turned back to Mark. “So you like coming to Saint Vincent’s?”

  He nodded emphatically. “It’s neat. After school they give us cookies
and milk. And the grown-ups here don’t yell or throw things or anything. They talk nice to us and listen to what we say, like we’re important. It makes me feel good to come here.”

  Amy leaned closer and laid her hand on his. “You know something, Mark? You are important. Every person is different, and every single one is important in his own way. There’s nobody else in the whole world just like you, and nobody could ever take your place. You remember that, okay?”

  Mark smiled shyly. “You’re nice, Amy. I wish my mom talked like you.”

  “Ready to do a little practicing, Mark?”

  Mark and Amy simultaneously looked up at Cal. She was glad for Mark’s eager response, which momentarily distracted Cal, because for a second her voice deserted her. It was one thing to look at Cal in his workout clothes from across the gym, and quite another to have him standing only two feet away. His tank T-shirt clung to his broad chest, and with one hand on his hip and the other arm hugging the basketball to his side, his well-defined biceps made her breath catch in her throat. The man was in absolutely perfect physical condition, she realized, from his pecs to his abs. There wasn’t an ounce of excess flesh on his well-toned body. Muscled chest, tapering waist, flat stomach, slim hips. To use one of Darlene’s favorite expressions, Cal Richards was one hot-looking dude. If during their date she’d been impressed by the man’s mind and ethics, today she was equally impressed by his physical attributes. He radiated a virility that literally took her breath away and made her respiration go haywire.

  As Cal finished his brief conversation with Mark, handed him the ball and watched him scamper off, Amy reached for her purse and made a pretense of looking for her keys, trying to buy herself a few moments to restore her poise. No man had ever wreaked such havoc on her emotional and physical equilibrium by his mere proximity. That Cal Richards should be the one man who could seemed like a nasty trick of fate. Why couldn’t some compatible man have had this effect on her—and about two or three years down the road?

  Cal turned back to Amy, planted his hands on his hips and took a moment to study her bowed head as she searched through her purse. Her light brown hair swung forward, hiding her face, and he was glad for the momentary reprieve. He hadn’t planned to speak to her. But as he’d watched her interact with Mark, he’d been struck by the quick rapport she’d established with the shy little boy, who—for good reason—had a real problem with trust and rarely said more than a few words to strangers. The fact that she had quickly broken through his reserve and established a comfort level with him said a lot. It was yet another appealing side of this intriguing woman, and he’d found himself walking over to her without making a conscious decision to do so.