The Homecoming

by Anne Marie Winston

  After a few moments, he withdrew from her body. But he didn’t leave, though he probably should have. Instead, he turned onto his side and drew Sydney back against him, resting his head just behind hers on her pillow. He reached down and flipped up the sheet, then snuggled her closer and let the lassitude take him. And he smiled when he felt her turn her head and gently kiss the side of his shoulder.

  Later—much later, he realized when he glanced at the clock—he roused from a deep, dreamless sleep. Dreamless. It occurred to him suddenly that he hadn’t had the dream since he’d met Sydney. It wasn’t all that remarkable, considering the infrequency with which it attacked these days, but still… Any change in his routine usually brought on bouts of vivid, horrifying dreams in which he was about to be kidnapped. And this was definitely a change in his routine.

  He tightened his arms around Sydney. Man. If he weren’t still holding her in his arms, he’d have sworn he’d just had the most erotic dream of his entire life. He’d been attracted to her since the first day he’d seen her, had known she could get him hard faster than anything he’d ever experienced before. He’d known, on some primitive level that he couldn’t explain, that sex with her would be fantastic.

  But he’d never expected that behind her calm, capable facade, she was a screaming wildcat who would blow the top of his head off. He smiled in the darkness. What a woman.

  She had turned onto her side and was snuggled spoon-fashion in front of him, her soft bottom nestled against his thighs. He enjoyed the closeness. Felicia had been one of those sleepers who threw arms and legs every which way and there’d been plenty of space between them in their king-size bed most of the time.

  Felicia. Thinking of his wife brought all the craziness of the recent days back to the forefront of his mind, and suddenly he was wide awake. What was he doing? What the hell was he doing? Sydney had said she loved him.

  And he’d wanted desperately just to open his mouth and say it back. But he couldn’t. One of them had to be sensible. This wasn’t real. This was…pretend. Once they got the details of Nick’s new life straightened out and he was home again with his son, she’d feel differently.

  Dawn was just pearling the sky outside when he woke again. Sydney was still curled in his arms just as she’d been all night. After several hours of sleep, his body was letting him know it would be happy to indulge in some early-morning lovemaking, but he resisted the urge to lift Sydney’s thigh over his and slide into her while she was still warm and sleepy.

  Instead, he carefully got out from beneath the covers. He took his clothes and went through the apartment to the half bath off the kitchen so he didn’t wake Sydney. He splashed water on his face and shoved back his hair, then dressed rapidly. His brain was moving twice as fast, though, and he couldn’t stop thinking about what was happening.

  He knew what Sydney wanted. Even if she hadn’t said it, hadn’t even allowed herself to think it, he knew. He stepped out of the bathroom and went to the kitchen, where he’d left his keys on the counter last night.

  But as he turned to go, Sydney appeared in the hallway that led from the bedrooms. Her hair was messy, her eyes heavy-lidded and sexy. She’d thrown on an aqua robe in some satiny material, and he could see the tight tips of her breasts pressing against the fabric. The robe was short, tempting him to go to her and slip his hand beneath its bottom edge, to find the sweet, hot center of her and assuage the raging need that still hadn’t subsided fully.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, yawning. But she’d seen the keys in his hand, and the sleepiness had fled from her eyes, leaving them wary and slightly puzzled.

  “I have to go.”

  “No, you don’t.” She started toward him. “You can stay and have breakfast with us.”

  “I have to go,” he repeated. It would be all too easy to let himself slide into a relationship with her, but that was the one thing he couldn’t do.

  “All right,” Sydney said quietly, raising one eyebrow. He could almost hear what she was thinking. Uh-oh. He’s touchy this morning. “Shall I get Nick’s usual baby-sitter today?”

  “No, I’ll be back. How long do you think it will be until I can take him home?”

  She went very still. “You mean back to the island.”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t know.” She spread her hands. “You heard what the counselor said. But, Danny, have you really thought about how difficult that’s going to be for Nick? And for you as well? Wouldn’t it be better if you moved back to Portland? You’d have your family’s support and Nick could grow up with an extended family that he’s rarely going to see if you take him away.”

  “No,” he said through his teeth. “It would not be better. I’m perfectly happy on the island.”

  “But will Nick be?”

  “I’m taking him home with me,” he said forcefully. “Soon.”

  Sydney threw her hands in the air. “Why won’t you think about how difficult this is going to be for him?” She pointed an accusing finger at him. “You don’t love that island for what it is, Danny. You told me it was a hideout, remember? Well, you can’t keep hiding from the world. You have this whole mountain of guilt that you wallow in, and you think if you keep yourself wrapped in bland, meaningless days, you can avoid it.”

  “That’s not true!” He welcomed the anger that rushed through him, concentrating on it to get him through this and out the door.

  “It is true,” she challenged. “You can’t forgive yourself for the past—for letting Robbie down, for letting Nick get taken, too. You even think you should have kept Felicia from killing herself. I don’t think you even realize how guilty you feel, and how it’s poisoning your chance at a good life. A normal life. Your attitude could be bad for a little boy. You could change Nick from the person he is to someone who’s a far less happy adult. Is that what you want?”

  “You don’t know anything about me or my life!” he shot back. “How could you possibly understand?”

  “I do have some idea of what you’ve been through. But you can’t let it keep running your life.”

  He narrowed his eyes, too furious to censor his words, to think about what he was saying. “Do you think I don’t know what your motive is here, Sydney? It’s obvious you’re angling for a way to keep Nick in your life. And if you try to keep him away from me, that makes you as bad as the people who took him in the first place.”

  She froze, all color draining from her face.

  Too late, he realized how out of line that accusation had been. “I’m sorry,” he said wearily. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for Nick. I do. I’d like to remunerate you in some way for all the years—”

  She quivered as if he’d struck her. “Pay me?” she whispered. “You want to pay me for loving him?” There was a look on her face he’d never seen there before, as if someone had just told her Nick had died or something.

  “Leave,” she said in that same too-quiet tone. “Leave now. Let me know when you’ve made arrangements to take Nick away, but don’t come back here. Ever. I’ll tell him you’re his father.”

  And before he could think of anything to say, she turned and walked back to her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

  “Sydney!” Panic began to curl around the edges of his rage. He followed her but when he put his hand on the knob, the bedroom door had been locked. He considered breaking it down for about one second, but that would wake Nick, and the last thing he wanted was for his son to see them fighting.

  Slowly he turned and made his way from her apartment, shell-shocked by the way things had blown up in his face.

  She’d had no right to say all those things, he told himself as he slid behind the wheel of his rental car. But…hadn’t she? If it weren’t for her, his son might not even be alive today. If it weren’t for her bone-deep honesty, he wouldn’t even know Nick was still alive.

  He gripped the steering wheel so tightly his fingers ached. What had he done? What the hell had he done?
/>   And more importantly, why?

  Thirteen

  I never should have said yes. Everett paced the floor inside Nancy’s cozy apartment. For once he didn’t even see the pretty rose and green accents, the plants she tended so lovingly, the special little touches that made her place a home instead of just a place to live. Every two seconds he checked the clock again.

  “Everett,” said Nancy. “Come sit down. They’ll be here any minute.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” he muttered, and she chuckled. “Relax. Your parents can’t wait to meet you. But they don’t want to rush you. When they called and I suggested you meet here, they were very concerned about whether or not you were ready to talk to them, remember?”

  He remembered. But it didn’t help much. Any second now, the two people who’d given him life were going to walk through that door. He felt doubly guilty for wanting to bolt. Many adopted kids would give a limb to know their birth parents. His situation wasn’t that much different. Except that most kids hadn’t deliberately helped someone try to ruin their parents’ life’s work.

  The doorbell rang, and he felt as if he had leaped a foot in the air.

  Nancy rose. “Let me get it.” She paused as she reached him, stretching up to kiss his chin. “It’s going to be okay.”

  He stayed where he was by the window when she welcomed the couple in. As they moved into his line of sight, he felt a shock wave roll through him. The man—his father—had silver hair at his temples and more wrinkles, but the face that looked at him was shockingly similar to the face he saw in the mirror every day.

  Mrs. Logan was tall, even taller than Nancy, whom he knew was five-foot-nine. Her hair still retained reddish-gold highlights. Her brown eyes were filled with tears.

  They didn’t crowd him. He had to give them credit. The woman, in particular, fairly vibrated with the need to rush forward and hug him, but she contented herself with giving Nancy a warm embrace.

  “Thank you, dear, for offering to host us this afternoon.”

  “You’re most welcome. Please, have a seat. Can I get either of you something to drink?”

  Terrence and Leslie Logan both shook their heads as they sank onto the loveseat Nancy indicated. “No, thank you,” said Terrence. He smiled slightly. “We’re so nervous we’d probably spill it all over your rugs.”

  Nancy smiled calmly. “Everett’s been a nervous wreck, too.” She took a seat on the couch opposite the couple and patted the cushion beside her. “Quit hovering over there, Everett.”

  Reluctantly, he left the relative security of his isolated spot at the window. As he sat down beside Nancy, she slipped her hand into his. Immediately, he felt better, just as he had at the police station. He took a deep breath. “Hello,” he said, extending a hand over the coffee table that separated him from his father and mother. “I’m Everett now, but I was—am—your son Robbie.”

  Tears rolled down Leslie’s face as Terrence reached out and gave his hand a firm shake. “Sorry,” she managed.

  “It’s all right,” Nancy said. She reached for a box of tissues she’d placed nearby. “I’m prepared.”

  Leslie laughed. “Wise woman.” She took a tissue from the box Nancy extended and wiped her eyes. “This is just so overwhelming,” she said.

  Nancy took a tissue and dabbed at her own eyes before she set down the box. “You wouldn’t be human if you weren’t emotionally shaken by seeing your son for the first time in almost three decades.”

  “We thought you were dead,” Leslie said to her son. “For years and years. And all the time you were out there somewhere.” Her voice broke again. “We’re so sorry. If we’d known, we never would have stopped looking for you.”

  They were sorry? “You have nothing to apologize for,” he said, meaning it.

  Terrence cleared his throat and Everett saw that his eyes were a bit shiny as well. What was wrong with him, that he didn’t feel like crying? All he felt like doing was running and hiding in a hole somewhere.

  “No one has any apologies to make,” said the man who’d fathered him. The natural air of authority that surrounded him told Everett that people rarely argued with Terrence Logan.

  Everett tried a smile. He didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing.

  “The police tell us they’ve agreed not to prosecute you since you were so helpful to them,” Leslie said. He was surprised that she was willing to bring up the most painful issue between them, but he was glad as well. Might as well get it out right away, let them know he understood that they probably didn’t want much to do with him after what he’d done. Nancy had told him again and again that his family had forgiven him, that they couldn’t wait to meet him. But he couldn’t figure out why. He was nothing special.

  “Did you know they’ve located three of the missing children already?” Leslie continued.

  Everett shifted uncomfortably. “Good.” His voice sounded rusty.

  There was an awkward silence.

  “So,” said Nancy, “tell us about your family. Everett knows he has brothers and sisters, but not many details.”

  Leslie Logan’s face brightened. She seized on the subject gratefully and within minutes, Nancy had the conversation rolling easily along. Everett could have kissed her. Correction. Once the Logans were gone, he would kiss her. Every sweet inch of her. She had stuck by his side when many women would have been long gone. Did she have any idea how much he loved her?

  Probably not. He’d never been very good with words, so he’d never thought to offer them. I love you. He practiced the words in his head. He could say them. He didn’t trust his judgment about many things, but Nancy Allen had all but written her feelings for him on a billboard. He was nearly certain she loved him. If not, she had done a mighty good job of faking it. And he was pretty sure she wasn’t faking.

  In any case, Nancy had taken enough of the risks in their relationship. Tonight he would tell her he loved her.

  He shifted his attention back to the Logans. They were…interesting. They finished each other’s sentences, touched each other lightly, occasionally exchanged a glance or a smile that clearly was a private communication just between the two of them. He figured they’d been married now for around forty years. That was one long marriage. What could make people stay together for that long?

  His gaze strayed to Nancy again, gesturing with her hands as she spoke with Leslie. And he knew. Love. Love was what kept couples together for decades. A bone-deep certainty that this was the person you wanted to be with every day for the rest of your life.

  The way he felt about Nancy.

  Suddenly he knew what he was going to do tonight. He didn’t have the money for an engagement ring, but he was going to ask Nancy to marry him. If she was the woman he thought she was, she wouldn’t care about a ring or lack of one.

  He felt something inside him subtly shift and relax once he’d made the decision. His beautiful, compassionate, strong nurse had been meant for him. It was time he showed her that he knew it.

  Somehow, an hour had passed. The dreaded visit hadn’t been nearly the ordeal he’d anticipated, largely thanks to Nancy.

  Terrence Logan had risen to escort his wife to the door. It was impossible for Everett to think of the couple as his parents. He felt little connection to them despite their obvious happiness at having found him. But something had been bothering him.

  “Mr. Logan?”

  Terrence and Leslie both stopped and turned. “Yes?” said Terrence.

  “I have to— I mean, I wanted to ask you something.” Everett stopped nervously and waited.

  Terrence smiled. “I’ll do my best to find an answer. What is it?”

  “When I was little—before I was taken, I mean—did we ever go to a major league baseball game?”

  Leslie Logan said, “Oh!” and pressed the fingers of both hands hard against her lips. Her husband’s face lit up as if he were a child seeing Santa for the first time.

  “Yes,” he said. “When you
were five, we took you up to Seattle for a few days. You and I went to see the Mariners play the Toronto Blue Jays in the Kingdome. That was a long time ago, before they tore it down and built the new stadium. It was your very first pro game and you were so excited you could barely sit still.”

  “I remember,” said Everett. Wonder and pleasure washed through him as if he were that little boy again. “I remember! You bought me a Mariners pennant and we hung it over my bed when we got home.”

  “Yes.” Terrence’s eyes filled with tears. “I still have that pennant in a box of things we saved from your room when we moved from the house in Spring Heights.” He hesitated. “Sometime perhaps you’d like to see the stuff we kept, like your rock collection.”

  Leslie gave a quavering laugh. “That’s a generous term for it,” she told Everett. “You picked up every hunk of gravel we passed when you were small. Your pockets got so loaded down with rocks you were in danger of losing your pants.”

  “We have a great picture of you holding up your shorts with both hands,” Terrence said. “You were about three, I believe.”

  Nancy was laughing lightly. “I’d love to see that sometime.”

  “We’d love to show it to you. Both of you.” Leslie took a deep breath. As if she couldn’t help herself, she reached out and patted Everett’s forearm gently. “We don’t want to rush you, Everett. Finding that you have a family as big as ours must be daunting. But if you two would like to come to dinner some evening, perhaps the four of us could look at some of those old photos together. Or just sit and visit a little more.”