Finally Home

by Deborah Raney

  It was time for him to finally grow up and act like the man he was. Odd that he’d fought a war—almost lost his life—before learning that lesson.

  Chapter 11

  With the windows open to the chirrup of cicadas and the distant noises of the city below, Brian plumped his pillow and positioned it back under his neck. He could hear the faint murmur of the television upstairs in his parents’ room.

  It was odd having someone else in the house. He’d grown accustomed to the silence.

  He sighed, and closed his eyes, then opened them again. As exhausted as he was from the stress of the morning, sleep wouldn’t come. The events of the day played through his mind as if they were burned on a 16mm reel. He kept rewinding to the part where Kathy’s lips touched his.

  Thanks to his father’s tirade, he hadn’t had time to really explore his feelings about that kiss. The radio on his nightstand was turned low and the lilting harmonies of the Temptations played a wistful soundtrack for his memories. Just my imagination…running away with me…

  He closed his eyes again, reliving the moment. He and Kathy wrapped in each other’s arms, the lukewarm water buoying them, lapping over them… Kissing her…

  Her kissing him back.

  The thought jolted him. And it wasn’t just his imagination running away with him. His memory was keen on that point. Kathy Nowlin had kissed him back—and good. What was he supposed to make of that?

  Mind racing, he threw off the covers. He had to talk to her. Should have called her long before now. He scooted up in the bed and flipped on the bedside lamp. She’d given him her phone number when he first started working with her, but he’d never used it. He wasn’t even sure where he’d put it now. The telephone book in his nightstand drawer was two years old, but maybe she was listed in there.

  He plunked the bulky book on his lap and riffled through the pages. Nowlin. K. on Broadway. That had to be her. He remembered her talking about her loft apartment on Hannibal’s main thoroughfare. He dialed the number. His hands grew clammier with each ring she didn’t answer.

  Finally on the sixth ring, her voice came softly. “Hello?”

  “Kathy, it’s Brian.”

  “Brian—”

  “Listen, I’m sorry about today. About my dad. I don’t know why—” He blew out a heavy breath. He was doing this all wrong. It wasn’t his father’s fault. It was no one’s fault but his own. He should have stood up to Jerry Lowe long ago. And he should have stood up for Kathy before his father sent her away.

  He started over. “Kathy, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let Dad send you away like that.”

  “Why did you?”

  That threw him for a loop. “I guess… I’m a coward.”

  “Stop. I know better than that.”

  “Well, when it comes to my father, apparently, I am.”

  “You’re sure…it wasn’t because you wanted me to leave?”

  “What do you mean?” For some odd reason, his heart started to pump like it had wheeling down the driveway after her this morning.

  “What happened this morning, Brian?” Her voice grew softer. “Between us…?”

  He took a wavering breath. “I was hoping you could tell me.”

  “I asked you first.”

  The grin he heard in her voice made him smile. “Okay. But…I don’t really think this is a conversation for the telephone.”

  “You want me to come over?”

  “Would you?”

  “Give me ten minutes.”

  How can you mend a broken heart? The Bee Gees ballad came on the car radio as Kathy merged onto the highway and headed out to the house on Cranberry Hill. She hoped she wouldn’t be asking that same question by the time this night was over. Her nerves skittered as she tried to analyze her own emotions, let alone think of how she could explain them to Brian.

  When she reached the top of the hill she saw him sitting on the porch, waiting for her. Even under the taut circumstances that had brought her here tonight, seeing Brian sparked something inside of her—a feeling of anticipation and connection she’d never felt with anyone else.

  His face gave away nothing as he lifted a hand in greeting. She turned off the ignition and got out. Walking slowly up to the porch, she never let her gaze leave his.

  “Hi.” He rolled his chair to the edge of the porch, set the brakes, and held out his hand, palm out. She put her hand in his, her heart soaring, a sure knowledge building inside her as he knit his fingers with hers. Oh, please, Father… Let this night end the way I hope it will.

  “Do you want to go inside?”

  She looked toward the house. The windows were lit upstairs and down. “Your parents are here?”

  He nodded. “It’s okay. They’re not going to kick you out.”

  She gave a tentative smile. “You’re sure.”

  “Positive.” He squeezed her hand. “I talked to my dad.”

  “About?”

  “About your job.”

  Her hopes mounted. “Is…is he reconsidering?”

  Brian chewed the corner of his lower lip. “No. I reconsidered. I asked dad not to hire you back, Kathy.”

  As quickly as they’d soared, her spirits plummeted. “But…” She took a step backwards, tugged her hand away from him. “I…I don’t understand.”

  “It’s not right. What happened today. What we’ve been feeling for each other.”

  No! He was wrong! She loved him. Couldn’t he see that? Hadn’t he made her believe that he had the same feelings for her? How could she have misread things so badly?

  She felt numb. “Then…what was that today? What happened? You…you kissed me, Brian. I thought—” Her voice broke.

  He unlocked the brakes, gripped the handrims, and wheeled himself in front of her. He reached for her hand again. “Kathy. No. Don’t cry. Let me explain.”

  “Come here.” He put his free hand around her waist, and with one fluid, graceful motion, pulled her onto his lap.

  Her arms had nowhere to go but around his neck.

  “I asked my father to find someone else for my therapy because…I know it violates your professional code to be kissing on your patients. I don’t think I can be responsible for holding you to that.”

  His meaning registered, and joy coursed through her veins.

  But he turned serious again. “I think what happened today, Kath, is that we both finally admitted—maybe to ourselves, as much as to each other—what we’ve been feeling for a long time.”

  She smiled. “You too? Really? You’ve…felt it, too?”

  He nodded, running a finger whisper-soft along her cheek. “Really. A lot. For a long time.”

  She pulled back just far enough to study his face. The smile he gave melted her. “Oh, Brian.” She rested her palm on his cheek, enjoying the prickle of his day-old beard beneath her touch.

  He closed his eyes. “I didn’t dare think you might return my feelings. I’m not exactly gainfully employed, Kath. Even though Dad has a job waiting for me when I’m done with therapy,” he added quickly.

  She stroked his cheek and smiled up at him. “I don’t care about that.”

  “And I”—he looked over her, at his feet on the chairs footrests—“I don’t know how this will end up…whether I’ll ever be able to walk.”

  She started shaking her head. “I don’t care… I don’t care, Brian. That’s not important. It’s who you are that matters to me. And…I love who you are.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”

  Behind him, the mansion towered over them, and for a fleeting moment, she let herself imagine what it might be like to share this house with Brian Lowe.

  He tipped her chin, coaxing her gaze back to him. He threaded his fingers through her hair with one hand, tracing her lips with a feather touch with the other. “It’s been three months since I rolled this chair through those doors after…a very long two years in Nam.” He nodded behind him
toward the wide front entry. “But tonight, Kathy, for the first time in my life, I feel as if I’ve finally come home.”

  About the Author

  DEBORAH RANEY dreamed of writing a book since the summer she read Laura Ingalls Wilder's Little House books and discovered that a Kansas farm girl could, indeed, grow up to be a writer. After a happy twenty-year detour as a stay-at-home mom, Deb penned her first novel, A Vow to Cherish, which won a Silver Angel Award and inspired the acclaimed World Wide Pictures film of the same title. Since then, her books have won the RITA Award, HOLT Medallion, ACFW Carol Award, National Readers' Choice Award, as well as twice being finalists for the Christy Award. Deb teaches at writers' conferences across the country. She and her husband, Ken Raney, recently traded small-town life in Kansas ––the setting of many of Deb's novels––for life in the (relatively) big city of Wichita. They have four children and a growing brood of precious grandchildren who all live much too far away. Visit Deb on the Web at:

  www.deborahraney.com