All that vast and, yes, empty country proved soothing. North into Wyoming, then west from Cheyenne, the names she saw on road signs and markers spoke of the Oregon Trail and cattle ranching in the Old West. Past Medicine Bow, she crossed the famously muddy Platte River. She stopped for lunch in Lookout, Wyoming, just so she could say she had. Especially since she was headed to Lookout, Oregon. There was a certain resonance.
And every night, after checking into a hotel, she dutifully called first home, then Nolan and Christian. She kind of got the feeling Christian envied her the trip. He occasionally went so far as to ask a question or two.
Dana spent the last night on the road in Pendleton, Oregon, even though she could have made it all the way. She wanted to arrive in daylight, not exhausted in the dark.
That night when she called, Nolan said, “Let me know when you get close. I’ll meet you there.” He had the key to the small house he and Christian had chosen. Nolan had been nice enough to email a picture of it to her.
She wanted to say, Thanks, but I’ll pick up the key at your business. But friendly cooperation had to be the goal, and she would definitely feel friendly if he helped carry in all her stuff.
“Thank you. It’ll be a relief to arrive.”
“Long trip.” He sounded almost gentle, or maybe she only wanted to think so. She wondered if he understood that the miles she’d driven, the country she’d passed through, were the smallest part of the seismic shift in her life.
Voices in the background when she called him the next day told her he wasn’t alone. But all he said was, “See you in ten.”
The last time she’d been here, she had noticed Lookout was beautiful, but only in a peripheral way. It was where her son was, which was all that mattered. This time, she took it all in. On the outskirts of town, orchards filled with fruit trees in bloom climbed gentle slopes. Snowcapped Mount Hood reared over the hilly town, appearing closer than it actually was, and brightly colored sails dotted the river, sparkling on this sunny day. And...was that an old-fashioned paddle-wheel steamship going upriver? No, it couldn’t possibly be, but the illusion was wonderful.
She pulled out her computer-generated map of town and made the turns that took her from the business district uphill. The houses had a pleasantly historic feel. She knew she’d arrived when she spotted the massive SUV parked at the curb midblock. She double-checked the house number, turned into the narrow driveway that led to a single-car garage, set her brake and sagged.
Just as quickly, she pulled herself together, instinct warning her not to let Nolan see any weakness. Dana hopped out, slammed her door and pushed the tab to unlock the rear doors and hatch.
Nolan was already walking toward her, his strides long. Her stomach quivered with her awareness of his big, powerful body. She reminded herself of all her resolutions. She had to be very, very careful around this man. Reacting this way was not good.
“Hey,” he said, holding out a pair of keys on a ring.
She accepted them, trying not to let her fingers touch his.
He was already studying her Subaru, packed to the gills. She had barely been able to see out the back window.
“This open? I’ll grab a load.”
After slinging the straps of her laptop case and purse over her shoulder, she pulled her suitcase. He carried two giant plastic totes as if they weighed nothing and waited patiently as she fumbled to get one of the keys in the door lock. Then she stood aside to let him in first.
Without a word, he crossed the small living room and disappeared through a doorway. Since she’d written Kitchen on masking tape plastered on the sides of both totes, it was no wonder he hadn’t bothered to ask for instructions. And, of course, he’d toured the house before.
Hardwood floors gleamed as if they’d been recently refinished, and the interior smelled of fresh paint. Built-in shelves flanked a brick fireplace. The landlord or a previous tenant had been nice enough to leave a set of wrought-iron fireplace tools—not that she’d be lighting a fire in the foreseeable future.
The house was of an age to have double-hung sash windows and broad sills, which along with the molding were painted white in contrast to the taupe walls.
Dana dropped the laptop and purse just inside the door but pulled her suitcase down the short hall, her footsteps echoing in the absence of furniture or rugs. After glancing into the two bedrooms, she chose the slightly larger one to be hers.
Nolan appeared behind her, carrying a box on one shoulder and another under his arm. “In here?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
He nodded, set them down and disappeared.
Apparently, he saw no reason to bother with extraneous words.
They passed each other going back and forth. Once he frowned and took a big tote right out of her hands, turning around to carry it into the kitchen.
“I had that,” she said to his broad back, sighed and returned to her car for something he would consider suitable for the little woman to carry. She’d have been a lot more annoyed if she weren’t so grateful for the help. In fact, twenty minutes after she’d pulled into the driveway, everything she’d so arduously loaded in the Subaru was now in the house, and her back didn’t ache any more than it already did from the long drive.
“Thank you,” she said, watching him set a lamp down in the living room. “You’ve been a lifesaver.”
Carefully placing the shade on the lamp, he glanced at her. “You have furniture coming?”
“Yes, in theory tomorrow.” She crossed her fingers.
Straightening, he loomed over her, the folded arms and frown an excellent form of intimidation. “You can’t intend to stay here tonight.”
“Yes, actually, I do. I have pillows and my sleeping bag. I’ll be fine.”
His grunt expressed something less than satisfaction. “Why not stay at the inn again?”
Expecting him to offer his guest room was a little much, she would concede. And that was assuming he had one.
“I grew up camping and backpacking. The hard floor won’t kill me for one night.”
The frown stayed, but he finally inclined his head. “House look okay?”
“Very much so.” She loved what she’d seen so far. It was homier than the one she’d clung to all those years only because of Gabriel. “I appreciate you finding it for me.”
His expression turned sardonic. “You didn’t leave me a lot of choice but to extend a helping hand.”
Her heart sank. “So today’s help was grudging?”
He exhaled heavily. “No. I...sympathize with you, Ms. Stewart. That’s not the same as hoping everything goes so swimmingly Christian is begging to move in with you two months from now.”
She nodded. This was the equivalent of them crossing swords. En garde. “I understand. This seemed best for Gabe.”
His eyebrows rose. “You want the kid to have an identity crisis?”
“What?” Oh, heavens, they were back to the name thing. Dana made a face. “I’ll try. But you have to understand that it’s hard. I chose his name with love. Everything Christian represents, I bitterly resent.”
“Yeah, I get that, too,” he said gruffly, “but you’re going to alienate him if you keep insisting on Gabe.”
“Why the warning?”
The emotions shadowing his eyes betrayed inner conflict to equal hers. He’d been honest when he said he wanted her to disappear from their lives. That he’d been as kind as he had anyway made her like him. And that could be dangerous.
“Because I think you could be good for Christian.” Seeing her surprise, he smiled faintly. “Marlee loved him, but she could never be the mother he deserved. Right now I’m the only family he has. That’s not a good place to be.” He paused, as if reluctant to say more, then grimaced. “I was in Afghanistan when I got word about my parents’ d
eaths. Marlee was badly injured in the same accident. It happened Christian was at a friend’s. I was lucky to be able to talk to the doctor and okay the care my sister needed, but then I had to finish up an operation.” His jaw worked. “Could have gone south and left Christian all alone.”
“Or with your sister.”
He had to know what she was thinking—that a nine-year-old boy would have been better in foster care than trusting someone as unstable as she had apparently been. “That was a worry,” he conceded. “Like I told Christian, having more people to love you isn’t a bad thing.”
Her eyes stung. Dana nodded, unable to speak.
With sudden brusqueness, Nolan said, “If you don’t need anything else, I’d better get back.”
“No, I... I’m fine. Thank you again, Mr. Gregor.”
“How about if we give up and go with first names? Otherwise, we’re going to sound like idiots.”
Out of nowhere, a smile built. Her eyes might be damp, but she grinned. “You’re right. But I think you started it.”
He chuckled. “Pretty sure you did, but we’ll let it slide. Ah, listen. Christian and I thought we’d take you out to dinner tonight, if you aren’t too tired.”
“I would love that. I’ll have to grocery-shop this afternoon, but I don’t think I can find any enthusiasm for cooking.”
“We’ll pick you up. Say, six?”
She smiled again, hoping he couldn’t see her lip tremble. “Thank you again. I mean it.”
He only nodded and left. Without, she couldn’t help noticing, assuring her that she was welcome.
But otherwise...he’d been nicer than she’d expected, she had a wonderful old house instead of a cookie-cutter apartment and she’d be seeing Gabriel in just a few hours.
The tears spilled over.
* * *
“THERE ARE SO many interesting sights I could have easily taken a couple weeks for the trip instead of only three days,” Dana said, smiling across the table at her son.
“Then why didn’t you?” Christian’s burning gaze held hers. “It’s not like we were in any hurry for you to get here.”
Nolan wanted to stomp on the kid’s foot or find his ribs with an elbow. If nothing else, he’d been raised to be polite.
Dana didn’t move for a few seconds. She didn’t let her expression show dismay or hurt, but the glow of happiness he’d seen when she hopped in his SUV disappeared now between one blink and the next, as if his butt of a nephew had deliberately gone for the switch.
They still had menus in front of them. Nolan had chosen one of the nicer restaurants in town. The restored brick building gave it ambience, but it wasn’t so fancy they would have had to dress up or a kid Christian’s age would have felt uncomfortable. The menu offered some creative stuff, but also steak and seafood. On a weeknight like this, they had a table by the window with a view of a marina. Once darkness settled, tiny white lights strung along the docks would come on.
He wasn’t quite sure why he’d wanted to impress her. Going to the diner might have been better, or even picking up a pizza and bringing it to her rental.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said with the quiet dignity he couldn’t help but admire. “I was excited to get here.” She bent her head to study the menu with apparent calm. “I imagine the fish is a lot fresher here than in Colorado.”
“Except trout,” Nolan contributed.
“Yes.” She smiled at him without actually meeting his eyes. “My father is an ardent fisherman. He was disappointed that I didn’t share his passion.”
“Do you enjoy eating the trout?”
This smile created a tiny dimple beside her mouth. “Of course I do.” She crinkled her nose. “What I don’t enjoy is killing them. Or cutting off their heads and cleaning them. And I shouldn’t say that when I’m about to order seafood, should I?”
Nolan closed his menu. “Oh, why not? I don’t hunt, and I plan to have a steak.”
She opened her mouth and he just knew she was going to ask why he didn’t hunt, but then she glanced at Christian and changed her mind. “Fishing is actually kind of boring, besides. Although I don’t say that in front of Dad.”
Nolan smiled when he didn’t feel like it. He wanted to haul Christian outside by the scruff and tell him to act like a decent human being, but the boy hadn’t had any say in the decisions the adults had made. If Nolan had let him know the threat his biological father represented, he’d have soured any possibility of Christian liking the guy. And while part of him wanted to do that, it somehow seemed unfair, a point of honor he didn’t quite understand.
Just part of his gut-roiling mixed emotions. Which, unfortunately, included a painful awareness of Dana Stewart’s grace and beauty. A tilt of her head would catch his attention, showing him how long and slender her neck was. She had told him she was a runner, and he couldn’t understand how her fine-textured skin had stayed so pale. Discovering his gaze was following the line of her throat to the hollow at the base and the V of white skin below, Nolan forced himself to look at Christian instead.
“Made up your mind?” he asked the kid, who just shrugged. Nolan let his eyebrows rise. “You don’t want to eat, your privilege.”
No such luck—when the waitress showed up, Christian ordered a burger and fries plus clam chowder.
Waiting for their salads and Christian’s chowder, he and Dana labored on with the conversation. Except it quickly quit being work. He was genuinely curious about her, so subjects like where she went to college held his attention. The childhood she described was pretty idyllic, with loving parents and an older brother who alternately tormented and defended her.
Nolan watched Christian out of the corner of his eye. However sullen in appearance, he had his head cocked as if he was listening, too.
“We’re good friends now,” Dana said of her brother. “I’ve officially forgiven him.” The trace of amusement didn’t sound forced. “I like his wife, too.”
“Sounds like Marlee and me,” he found himself saying, “until she hit about fifteen. That’s when she started having some delusions, some really weird spells. I didn’t know what to think, and I was a teenage boy, so my response was to keep my distance from her until I left for college. Not very sensitive, I’m afraid.”
Christian’s head had turned during this little speech. Shock overcame sullenness. “You just, like, ignored her?”
“More like I tried not to be around her at all,” Nolan said ruefully. “Dinner table, I didn’t have any choice. Otherwise, I was busy with sports and friends.”
Dana’s gaze had rested on Christian, but now she turned to Nolan, surprising compassion evident. “But you’ve spent years looking after her as an adult.”
“I grew up a little and was ashamed of myself.” He couldn’t believe he was talking about his own long-ago failure, but he just about had to finish. How else could he combat the shame awakened by Dana’s willingness to see him as a good man, despite their antagonistic goals? “I don’t like to think of her bewilderment when her big brother turned his back on her.”
“Did you ever tell her that?” Dana asked, a warmth in her gaze that hadn’t been there until now.
“I tried. She claimed not to remember.”
Christian stayed silent. Nolan wondered if he’d just acquired feet of clay. Probably, and past time.
Fortunately, their appetizers arrived, giving them something to do besides fidget and stare at each other. Nolan refrained from commenting when Christian loudly slurped his soup. He was probably hoping to earn a rebuke from one of the adults, thereby sparking a scene. Nolan’s eyes met Dana’s, and he had a feeling she’d made the same guess.
“I asked Craig—your dad—to email photos of your half sisters,” she said, as if Christian were being attentive and friendly. “I thought you might want to see
them.”
Half sisters. Damn. Nolan had yet to come to terms with that idea.
Noticing both adults were waiting for a response from him, Christian gave another of his patented “I may not be a teenager, but I can act like one” shrugs.
“How old are the girls?” Nolan asked.
“Nine and six.”
He doubted she was aware of the old pain in her voice, but he heard it and understood where it came from. He didn’t have to count on his fingers to figure this out. If the marriage had lasted a year after the abduction of their baby boy...that meant the SOB had managed, in just a year, to find another woman, get married and have another child. Quick work. Craig Stewart had moved on with a vengeance.
Nolan was surprised the guy didn’t have more kids. He seemed like the kind whose ego would demand he have a son. But Nolan could hardly ask Dana about that in front of Christian.
“You ever met them?” If her ex had made a point of showing off his pretty baby girls, Nolan was damn sure going to quit shielding the guy’s image for Christian.
But she shook her head. “No, he grew up in Boston and moved back after our divorce. I haven’t seen him since.”
“But you stayed in touch.”
“Not for long. He did let me know about his remarriage and when his first daughter was born. Mutual acquaintances mentioned the second baby. I had to call his mother to get his phone number after...” Her gaze slid to her son.
“You learned Christian was alive.”
“Yes.”
All he could think was, what a prince. He’d have to ask her sometime if the bastard had given her the house in the divorce or whether she’d had to buy out his half.
Their entrées arrived. As they ate, she remarked on how many sails she’d seen out on the river today. “It still seems chilly to me to be out on the water.”
“Most people wear wet suits. Serious windsurfers and sailors own them. Hell, serious windsurfers go out in December.”
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