A Hero's Homecoming

by Laurie Paige

  The climax went on and on until he was drained of energy. He rested on his arms for another moment, then shifted wearily to the side. He’d rest for a moment.

  A moment, he reminded himself, unable to summon the energy to open his eyes. Then he’d tell her who he was.

  Just one more moment of bliss, then he’d have to tell her…

  One moment…

  Seven

  Carey awoke to the jangle of the alarm clock. She stretched, then groaned as muscles, well used the previous night, protested movement. The next thing she realized was her state of dress, or rather undress. She was stark naked. She jerked upright and stared at the other side of the bed.

  J. D. Cade lay there.

  He was watching her, his eyes wary even as a smile curved his mouth. “Waking up with someone is a shock after years of waking alone, isn’t it?”

  “’Shock’ isn’t the word for it,” she stated, unable to believe she’d let a man spend the night with her…in her house…with her child right down the hall.

  She was going to have to get up. She couldn’t cower there all day with the covers clutched to her bosom like a frightened virgin. Which she definitely wasn’t.

  He made it easy for her by swinging out of bed. “Okay if I use your shower?” he asked, as if they’d done this every day for years.

  “Yes,” she croaked, unable to keep from staring at his lean strength while he crossed the carpet and entered the bathroom. She heard the shower come on.

  “You can join me,” he called.

  There was a smile in his deep, rough voice, scarred from his ordeal in Vietnam. He carried other, less visible, scars after his experiences with life.

  After another thirty seconds of indecision, she slipped from the bed and dashed into the bathroom. When she opened the shower door, his arms were there to welcome her.

  He soaped her all over, his manner grave. She’d expected playful or at least sexual overtones. There was neither. His mood was introspective.

  “Have you told the McCallums?” he asked.

  “Not yet. I’m going to call them this morning.” She leaned her head back and let the water rinse the shampoo out of her hair.

  He soaped, then rinsed, then turned off the water.

  The sudden quiet disturbed her. Without the noise of the shower around them, there was no sound to drown out the thoughts that clamored in her head.

  She stepped out, grabbed a towel and tossed another to him. “Last night—”

  “I shouldn’t have stayed,” he interrupted, finishing the sentence. “I meant to leave, but I fell asleep.”

  “I’ve never had…there’s Sophie to think of…and other things,” she finished lamely.

  “Small-town gossip.”

  She nodded. “Lily Mae Wheeler lives on the next block down from here. If she sees the ranch truck—”

  Lily Mae wasn’t the only one who would notice. The baby-sitter lived three houses down the street. Annie drove by each day on her way to the hospital.

  Carey sighed. She didn’t want to think about it.

  He finished drying off. “We’ll sort it out.” He went to one of the twin sinks.

  “How?”

  “However we need to.”

  It was hard to concentrate when he was flagrantly aroused. The towel wrapped around his waist couldn’t disguise the fact. She turned away, heat flooding her face, when he caught her staring.

  “Okay if I use your razor?” he asked.

  She nodded and hurried into the bedroom where she applied deodorant and powder, then slipped into slacks and a turtleneck. She was putting on a brocaded vest that had reminded her of a Mississippi gambler when she’d seen it at the consignment shop, when he came into the bedroom.

  He was dressed by the time she blow-dried her hair and combed it into place. He followed her to the kitchen.

  “Eggs and bacon?”

  “Just coffee will be fine.”

  She ignored the request and prepared a full breakfast. It was easier than thinking about them and what the future might hold. He sat at the table, seemingly deep in thought, while he watched her fix the meal.

  “It’s still raining,” he remarked when she joined him.

  “At least it isn’t snow or ice.”

  It wasn’t until they finished that he spoke what was in his mind. “I have something to tell you.”

  A chill attacked her heart. Her first thought was that he’d lied, that he was married and had a family somewhere.

  “My name isn’t J. D. Cade.”

  “What?” She stared at him blankly, his statement so far from what she’d imagined she couldn’t respond to it.

  “I made it up when I came back here.”

  She caught the nuance. “You’ve been here before?”

  He nodded. “I used J because it was my father’s initial and D because it was my brother’s. Jeremiah and Dugin.”

  The facts sank slowly into her mind like a pebble tossed into a pond. The ripples spread in ever-widening circles, touching off other connections.

  “And ‘Cade’ was short for Kincaid,” she said, dazed by the information. “But there was no one left in the family—”

  She stared at him as suspicion grew.

  “I’m Wayne Kincaid. That’s why I wanted to be tested as a donor. I’m Jennifer McCallum’s brother.”

  She shook her head, trying to take it all in, to make sense of it. “Wayne died in Vietnam.”

  “No. I was captured, but I got away.”

  “You never came back.”

  “I couldn’t. There was nothing left here. I wanted to come back but there were too many obstacles. I hated my father. I wanted to escape the Kincaid name and all it stood for. It was easier to let everyone think I was dead.”

  “You’ll have to tell now.” She studied him, this stranger who had been in her arms last night. “Won’t you?”

  “Yes. Sam Brightwater has already guessed. I’m pretty sure Kate Walker has, too, after the hours we spent together during the cave-in. Her husband was my best friend once. I don’t think Kate has told him anything though. I can’t let Ethan find out from someone else. I was going to tell you last night.”

  “Only, I attacked you when you showed up at the office,” she murmured in embarrassment.

  “Hardly,” he said with a trace of amusement in his tone. His face hardened. “Don’t confuse what happened between us as a man and a woman with anything else.”

  She rubbed a hand across her forehead. “How can I not? Everything in a person’s life impinges on everything else. In medicine, it’s known as treating the whole patient.” She sighed. “What a mess.”

  Staring at the toast crumbs on her plate, she realized people were like that—scattered across the landscape of life, made of the same elements, yet each separate, divided from all others by the randomness of life.

  “Don’t make a federal case of it,” he cautioned.

  “I don’t know what to make of it. I don’t know how I feel.” She laughed without amusement. “But then, I didn’t know how I felt before your great confession, either.”

  He came around the table. She stood, not sure whether to bolt or hold her ground. He clasped her upper arms.

  “Yes, you do.” His eyes gleamed with the flames of passion. “Nothing has changed between us.”

  He kissed her, causing her whirling thoughts to spin faster, throwing her world completely out of control. She clutched his waist as her legs trembled.

  “Whatever was between us is still here,” he said in satisfaction when he lifted his head. He tapped the middle of her chest, then his own.

  “J.D.,” she began, and stopped. “Wayne. The golden boy. The pride of the Kincaids. The best quarterback Whitehorn ever had.” She drew a shaky breath. “It isn’t the same.”

  “That boy died in ‘Nam.”

  The bitterness in his tone penetrated her daze. She had seen his scars. She knew some of what he had endured. “But the memories will always be in you.�
�� She moved away from his embrace and stared out the window at the gloomy day. “Tell me,” she requested. “Tell me all of it.”

  He helped himself to fresh coffee. “I went off to war when I was eighteen,” he began. He talked of capture and pain, of escape and more pain, of more years in the service, of wandering the world, all in a few brief sentences that told her more than if he’d spoken for hours. He finished and fell silent, his gaze pensive.

  “Do you need to speak to anyone else before I call Jessica and Sterling?” she asked.

  “Not this minute, but don’t tell them who I am.”

  The shortness of the answer reminded her of the role he’d chosen for himself. Outsider. He wanted to stay that way, but that would be impossible.

  “If you’d told us sooner, we could have saved a lot of time. We could have tested you when we tested Clint.” Anger replaced the pity she’d felt listening to his story.

  “I’d hoped he would match.”

  “So you wouldn’t have to confess who you were…who you are. You’d have left without saying a word.”

  Bit by bit, it was dawning on her what a fool she’d been to trust this man. A loner. A drifter. She’d known that from the beginning. Now she also knew he’d been living a lie the whole time. She’d fallen for it just as she had with her ex-husband. Some people were slow to learn, it seemed.

  “There was nothing to say. I don’t want the ranch or any part of the Kincaid name. I was happy being free of it.”

  “Then why did you return?”

  “I was near here on a construction job.” He shrugged. “I was curious. I came over to see what had happened to the town. I found out I had a brother and sister and that the ranch was having problems. There seemed to be a mystery to solve, so I hired on when I found out Harding was having trouble keeping hands.”

  “The news of who you are will spread faster than gossip at a church social. You’ll be hounded by reporters when it breaks,” she warned him. “Your whole history will be endlessly relived and expounded upon. You died a hero. It’s harder to return as simply a human.”

  “I’ll survive.” He resumed his seat. “When do you need me for the transplant?”

  “Not for a while. We’ll have to isolate Jenny and destroy all her bone marrow before we can proceed. I’ll let you know.” She shifted gratefully into her medical role. “Stay out of crowds and away from anyone with a cold. I don’t want you coming down with anything.”

  He nodded. “I’ll stick to the ranch. It’s pretty much isolated now that everyone thinks it has a curse. Only Lester Buell sniffs around, wanting to buy it for a song in his usual scruffy manner.”

  Carey studied the scowl on his face. She tried to bring up the picture of the boy who had tripped over her, then had bought her another ice-cream cone, with the man who stood before her. She couldn’t.

  He was right. That boy had left a long time ago and never returned. This hardened, embittered man had taken the golden boy’s place.

  Although she’d never really known him, she mourned that boy and his shattered ideals, his beautiful body and its youthful perfection. Out of the twin fires of tragedy and pain this man had been born.

  She went to the wall telephone and dialed the McCallums’ number. Sterling answered.

  “I have news,” she said. She hesitated to call it good news. The transplant might not take. “We have a donor.”

  There was the expected moment of stunned silence.

  “Thank God,” Sterling said. “Who?”

  “It’s…J. D. Cade.” She glanced across the room. “I think he wants to come by and talk to you.”

  Wayne nodded agreement when she looked his way. There was distrust coupled with pity and anger in her eyes. He had a lot of confessing to do today, a lot of fences to mend. Carey might be one he couldn’t repair.

  At any rate, he needed to reassure the deputy of his intentions toward the ranch. Then he had to talk to Kate and Ethan. And Clint Calloway. And Reed Austin. Then the sheriff and the ranch foreman. The list was growing longer…

  “Okay, I’ll tell him.” She finished and hung up. “He wants you to come by before he goes to the office at eight.”

  His eyes went to the clock on the stove. “Seven-thirty. I suppose I’d better run.”

  She nodded, her gaze averted from his. She was raising barriers and No Trespassing signs like quills coming up on a porcupine. He could hardly blame her. He’d lived a lie and let her and the town believe that lie. Now he’d have to pay the consequences.

  He put on his coat and headed for the door. “I guess I’m through running,” he said, and went out into the cold.

  The lights were on in the ranch house when Wayne pulled up at the Walker place. He cut the engine and sat there in the pickup, reluctant to face the family. Inside, he saw a woman’s head outlined in the window.

  Probably Kate trying to determine who was out there.

  He climbed down and went to see them—the woman he’d once loved more than anyone and the man who’d been his best friend through most of his school years. He owed it to them to tell the truth before someone passed the news on to them. He’d told the McCallums that morning and Clint Calloway that afternoon. Time had definitely run out for him.

  Kate had the door open when he stopped in front of it. “J.D.,” she said, her eyes puzzled. “This is a surprise.”

  He nodded. “Hello, Kate. Ethan.”

  Ethan held a hand out without getting up. A kid lay in his lap, sound asleep. Wayne shook hands and took the chair Kate indicated.

  “It’s cold out tonight. Would you like a cup of hot cider to warm you?” she offered. “We were just going to have some ourselves.”

  “That would be fine.” His smile felt tight. Hell, his skin felt tight over his whole body. He should have told Kate the truth when they were trapped—

  “What brings you out this way?” Ethan asked with more than a tad of suspicion.

  Wayne couldn’t blame him for that. He suspected Ethan was a little jealous of Kate. “I needed to talk to you.” He studied her when she returned to the room with two cups and a platter of cookies.

  She was a beautiful woman. He was proud of how she’d turned out. A judge, by damn. That was something. And married to Ethan. Catching the light in his old friend’s eyes when she handed him the cup, Wayne knew the marriage was good for both Ethan and Kate.

  He relaxed.

  “I’m going to put the baby to bed and check on Darcy,” Kate murmured. “If you fellows will excuse me?”

  “Sure,” Ethan said.

  Wayne noted the confidence in Ethan’s touch as he lifted the sleeping baby to Kate’s shoulder. It brought a lump to his throat. Everyone seemed to have families to come home to, except him.

  “Something about the ranch?” Ethan asked, jogging him back to the topic at hand.

  “No. It’s about you and me and Kate, about who we are. And about who we were once upon a time when we were all young and we were friends.”

  Ethan stiffened. He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he stared into Wayne’s eyes. Wayne met his gaze levelly.

  “My God,” Ethan said. “What are you saying?”

  “I think you’ve figured it out.”

  “Kate, you’d better come in here,” Ethan called.

  “Just a sec.”

  The minutes ticked by as the two sat in stunned silence. He saw Ethan’s hand tremble as he lifted his cup to his mouth. Kate returned to the living room, a concerned smile on her face.

  “What is it?” she asked, alarm crossing her expression when she saw her husband staring at their guest.

  “Tell her who you are,” Ethan ordered in a hoarse voice laced with growing anger.

  Kate sat beside Ethan and took his hand before turning to study Wayne. She frowned and looked from one man to the other. “What’s going on?”

  “Katie, my girl, you’ll grow into a fine woman one of these days,” Wayne said softly, the way he had years ago when he’d teased her.


  She shook her head slightly as if to clear it. “There was someone who used to say that to me—” She clasped both hands over her mouth, then to her breast. “Wayne. Oh, my God. Wayne. I thought…when we were in the cave-in, but I couldn’t be sure…. No. It can’t be.”

  Ethan put an arm around her and held her close.

  Wayne thought of the hours he and Kate had spent trapped in an old mining shaft months ago. While waiting to be rescued, he’d thought of a thousand things to say to her. He hadn’t said any of them. Looking into her eyes, he knew she had suspected who he was at that time, but her rational mind couldn’t accept it then.

  “It is, Katie,” Wayne confessed. “I’ve wanted to tell you, both of you, for a long time, but…” He shook his head, helpless to explain how he’d felt.

  “But what?” she demanded. “But it was easier to let us think you were gone? To let us mourn for you all these years? My God, the grief we’ve been through. And the guilt. How could you leave us here wondering—”

  “Hush, Kate,” Ethan murmured, pulling her against him protectively. “I want to hit him myself, but maybe there’s an explanation.” He glanced at Wayne. “There damn well better be an explanation.”

  Wayne nodded.

  “How did you live? I saw that grenade explode under you. I saw you blown to bits.”

  “The kid took most of it. I got a load of shrapnel in the chest and neck, some in the legs, bloody, but nothing major hit, not my lungs or heart. Not even my face.”

  “What happened to you after that? The platoon pulled out. You were left for dead.” Ethan kept staring at him as if he expected someone to declare this was all a joke, one in very bad taste.

  “I was captured. I spent the next six months in a bamboo cage.”

  Kate gasped. “How did you get away?” Her face was the color of wallpaper paste.

  “The soldier in the cage with me nearly drove me crazy moaning day and night with his wounds. He was gut shot. I was lucky. I healed. My jaw was broken, though. It set crooked. Later, the surgeons rebroke it and set it again.”