The Return of Connor Mansfield

by Beth Cornelison

  “You can call me Uncle Connor,” he told Savannah, taking Darby’s cue. His baritone voice was pitched low and rolled over her like a warm spring breeze. “It’s nice to meet you, Savannah.”

  When I hold you like this, the rest of the world just fades away. You are my everything, Darby. The echo from her past, spoken in the same deep, lulling tone, washed through her with a bittersweet pang.

  Uncle Connor. Another lie. Connor should be more to Savannah than the uncle who passed through town once when she was almost four years old.

  Savannah’s father was alive. When she remembered the call that started today’s incredible events and brought Connor here to meet his little girl, she was hit with a fresh onslaught of emotion. Fragile hope. Wary joy. Tentative expectation.

  Could Connor be the key to saving Savannah’s life? Darby couldn’t help the tiny catch in her breath when she considered the prospect of Connor’s marrow healing their daughter.

  Connor shifted his gaze to Darby, and his face grew serious and direct, his eyes blazing with a purpose and passion. Clearly he’d read in her face where her thoughts had strayed. He’d always had an uncanny knack for reading her. Years ago, she’d believed that synergy meant they were soul mates. But then he’d left her.

  Savannah patted her mother’s face, claiming her attention. “I want some juice.”

  Darby shook off the painful memories, hoping Savannah wouldn’t pick up on the tension in the room. Clearing her throat, she asked, “How do you ask for juice?”

  Savannah rolled her eyes. Forget the teen years. Her daughter was already a drama queen. With an exaggerated sigh, Savannah said, “May I have juice? Please!” She grasped her throat, adding, “I’m so thirsty!” Then, obviously an encore for their guest, Savannah wilted in Darby’s arms as if she’d passed out from thirst.

  Connor grinned, clearly amused by Savannah’s melodrama.

  “Someone’s been hanging out with Peyton,” Hunter said with a laugh. “I swear, where do my nieces get all this angst and theatrics?”

  Savannah perked up hearing the name of Grant’s oldest daughter. “Peyton is my cousin. She’s six.” She fumbled to hold up six fingers.

  “Six,” Connor repeated, his expression honestly stunned as he absorbed the truth of how his niece had aged in his absence.

  “Come on, silly goose. Let’s get your juice.” She cast a glance to Connor as she headed into the kitchen. “Would you like to join us for a drink?”

  “Absolutely.” He and Hunter fell in step behind them. “What kind of juice are we having?”

  “Gwape!”

  “My favorite.”

  “Mine, too!” Savannah grinned, her eyes sparkling as Darby helped her climb into her booster seat at the table.

  Darby bit her bottom lip, pleased to see how comfortable Savannah seemed around Connor, but also troubled. Her daughter adored Hunter and Grant. If she became as attached to Connor as she was to her uncles, Savannah would be heartbroken when Connor left.

  She paused with her hand on the refrigerator door, a stabbing ache lancing her chest. When Connor left... The cruel truth was, Connor was leaving again, going back into hiding with WitSec. And whether she hated him for his lies and resented him for his desertion, she would still be devastated when he returned to his new life.

  * * *

  While Darby poured juice for them, Connor pulled Hunter into Darby’s mudroom. “Did you sleep with her?”

  Hunter faced him, a startled look lifting his brow. “Did you really just ask me that?”

  Connor firmed his jaw. “Don’t you think I have the right to know?”

  His brother squared his shoulders. “I won’t apologize for being Darby’s friend, for giving her the support and comfort she’s needed the past few years. Or for being a father figure to my niece. Losing you was hell on Darby. Being a single mother, juggling work and a baby has been tough, and now, with Savannah sick—”

  “Answer the question, Hunter.”

  His brother paused, looked away and sighed. “If you were anyone else, and the circumstances were any different, I’d tell you it’s none of your business. But—”

  “Did you sleep with her?” Connor grated impatiently.

  Hunter propped a hand on the washing machine and narrowed a glare on him. “No. We’ve never had that kind of relationship. You know that.” A muscle in his jaw ticked, and he glanced away for a moment, a telling gesture, before facing Connor again. “But I asked her to marry me.”

  Connor stiffened. “What?”

  “When she told me she was pregnant...” Hunter swiped a hand over his mouth. “We thought you were dead, bro. I didn’t want her to feel she had to face being a mother alone. I thought I was doing the right thing.”

  “What’d she say?” Connor held his breath.

  “I’d think that was obvious. She said she didn’t want me to give up the chance to find my soul mate and spend my life with someone I loved. She said it didn’t feel right to marry me when she was still in love with my brother.”

  Connor drew his shoulders back and scoffed. “Still in love? You could have fooled me.” He glanced back toward the kitchen, remembering Darby’s angry outburst.

  “Can you blame her for being mad?” Hunter jammed his hand on his hip and arched a dark brown eyebrow. “She’s got a right to be hurt. You’ve been lying to her with your absence for more than four years. Where have you been? How could you trick us all into thinking you were dead?”

  Connor sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. “Long story. I promise you’ll get the details soon, but right now, I need to get back in there and drink juice with my daughter.”

  Hunter huffed. “You mean your niece.” Sarcasm dripped from Hunter’s tone. “Why didn’t you tell her the truth?”

  “That was Darby’s call. I’d love for Savannah to know who I am. I want to hear her call me Daddy more than anything. But I won’t hurt her, either. And when I have to leave again—”

  Hunter straightened, his expression startled. “You’re not staying?”

  Connor sighed, a hollow ache throbbing behind his ribs. “I can’t. If I blow my cover, all of you could be put at risk.” He took a step toward his younger brother. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. For the pain I caused you. All of the family. If I’d thought there was another way...”

  Hunter’s expression eased, his brow furrowing. “Mom took it especially hard.”

  Connor dropped his gaze to his feet. “I can imagine.” Then, glancing back up, he met his brother’s eyes. “How are Mom and Dad?”

  “They’re doin’ all right. They look older. First they lost you. Now Savannah is sick. It’s been difficult for them.” Hunter shook his head sorrowfully, then sent him a half grin. “Kaylee’s been a bright spot, though.”

  “Kaylee?” Connor asked, recalling Savannah asking about the girl.

  A wider smile split Hunter’s face. “Kaylee is Grant and Tracy’s new baby. She’s two months old and cute as can be. Savannah adores her.” He shrugged, a sappy grin on his face. “We all do. Peyton dotes on her baby sister, and Grant is over the moon. Tracy miscarried twice in three years before they had Kaylee. So naturally we’re all thrilled for them.”

  Connor smiled, remembering how his older brother had gushed when his first daughter had been born. Geez, he thought, Peyton is six years old now. Almost seven.

  “That’s awesome. No one deserves it more. He’s a great dad.”

  Hunter held Connor’s gaze for a moment, then stepped forward to give Connor another bear hug. “We’ve missed you, Con.”

  Connor had to battle the surge of emotion in his throat before he could respond. “It’s good to be back.” Even if I can’t stay...

  Pulling away, Hunter hitched his head toward the kitchen. “Now get in there and get to know your
own daughter.”

  My daughter. His pulse hiccupped in his chest as he stepped back into the kitchen.

  “Sit by me, Uncle Connuh!” Savannah patted the table next to her.

  “I’d be honored.” He pulled out the chair beside his daughter and took a sip of the grape juice Darby had waiting for him. Savannah already had a purple mustache from her juice, and Connor chuckled. “Looks like you’re wearing your juice.”

  “Oops!” She giggled and swiped at her face with her arm.

  His own beard and mustache, prosthetics he’d put on that morning with Raleigh’s help to aid in his disguise, itched. He looked forward to pulling off the faux facial hair at the first chance he got.

  “Napkin,” Darby said from the kitchen.

  Savannah reached for a napkin, her hand flapping against the table when she came up short. Connor handed her one and pulled another for himself. He found himself staring at the fragile little girl he’d helped create, marveling at every freckle, every precocious gesture. And worrying over every obvious sign of her illness. The hair loss, the shadows beneath her gold eyes, the red needle marks and bruising on her arms where she’d obviously been stuck for blood draws and chemotherapy treatment.

  Leukemia. His gut twisted. His baby had cancer. How had Darby managed these past months with that dark diagnosis? Bile churned inside him. He should have been here, should have been with Darby, sharing the burden, supporting her.

  Hell, he should have been here for Savannah’s birth, her first steps, her first words. When his sinuses burned with his rising grief, he gritted his back teeth, forcing down the sting of tears and regret. He hated all the milestones he’d missed, but he couldn’t let his daughter see his sorrow.

  Someone pounded on Darby’s back door, then threw it open with a crash. “Darby!”

  Connor stiffened, recognizing the voice.

  “Grandma!” Savannah chirped.

  “Darby, is it true? Is Connor—” His mother burst into the kitchen from the mudroom. With a gasp, she staggered to a stop when she spotted him and wheezed, “Alive.”

  Chapter 6

  Connor shoved to his feet, caught off guard by his mother’s arrival. “Mom, how—?”

  “Look, Gwandma!” Savannah pointed to him, beaming proudly. “It’s my new uncle Connuh.”

  Tears puddled in Julia Mansfield’s eyes, and she raised a trembling hand to her mouth. “Oh, my God. Praise the Lord! My sweet boy.”

  She rushed forward, folding him in a hug. He squeezed her back, both overjoyed to see her and confused by her appearance.

  “But how did you know?” Connor divided an irritated glance between Hunter and Darby over his mother’s head. One of the two had to have told her, breaking their promise and blowing his cover.

  Darby hurried into the breakfast area from the kitchen, frowning. “Hunter, I told you not to say anything!”

  Hunter raised his palms, shaking his head. “Don’t look at me. I didn’t—” He stopped suddenly, his face going slack as he groaned. “Oh, wait.” He winced and sent Connor a guilty grimace. “I texted her earlier.” He looked to Darby. “After you got that call from the doctor’s office about the DNA test results.”

  Darby’s shoulders sagged, and Connor blew out a frustrated breath. His mother pulled back from her embrace and gave him a puzzled look. “Why wouldn’t you tell me? What’s going on?”

  “Uh, Savannah, honey.” Darby pulled back the girl’s chair and lifted her down “Why don’t you take Uncle Hunter to your room for a while?”

  “Mom texted me this morning wanting to know when Savannah would be going home,” Hunter said, still explaining. “I told her you’d left. Told her about the call. I—”

  Outside, car doors slammed, and Connor tensed.

  “That’ll be your father and Grant,” his mother said. “I called the office on my way here, and they said they’d be right behind me.”

  “Julia? Darby?” his father called as he and Grant hurried through the back door. They stopped and scanned the room full of faces, their expressions eager. “Where is he?”

  In seconds, the volume in the kitchen rose exponentially as everyone began talking on top of each other and emotions swelled.

  “Connor! We thought you were dead!”

  “I don’t understand. Where have you been?”

  “Mommy, can Uncle Connuh play with me? Mommy?”

  “Hunter, please take Savannah to her room.”

  “Honest, Con, I texted her before I knew—”

  From the living room, Raleigh and Jones appeared, clearly having heard the commotion. “What the hell?” Raleigh growled. “Sam, who are these people? And what part of ‘you can’t tell anyone you’re alive’ did you interpret as ‘have a welcome home party?’”

  Her eyes wide, Savannah shrank behind Darby as the two large men in scrubs, strangers to her, stormed in and barked at him. The fright in his daughter’s eyes was the last straw.

  Stan Mansfield, Connor’s father, stepped toward Raleigh, his shoulders back. “I could ask the same of you. Who—?”

  Connor put his thumb and finger in his mouth and whistled for quiet. “That’s enough!”

  Everyone settled down, facing him with startled looks.

  “You’re scaring Savannah,” he said, casting a warning gaze to the offending adults. Moving to kneel by his daughter, he tugged lightly on her sleeve. “Hey, sweetie, sorry about all that noise. I believe your mom asked you to take Uncle Hunter to your room for a while. Why don’t you do that now?”

  Savannah bobbed her head, then asked softly, “Will you play with me, too?”

  He smiled and stroked her arm. “I would love to. Let me finish talking to the grown-ups, and I’ll be there as soon as I can. Okay?”

  Hunter took his cue and lifted Savannah into his arms, tickling her side. “Come on, princess, I was hoping I’d get the chance to kick your tail at Chutes and Ladders.”

  “No, I’m gonna kick your tail!” Savannah said with a grin.

  Darby sent him a grudging half smile. “Thanks.”

  He pushed to his feet and squeezed Darby’s arm. “We’re on the same side.”

  “Would someone please tell me what’s going on?” his mother asked, her voice cracking. “Connor, who are these men? Why did they call you Sam? Where have you been all these years?” She paused and wiped at her eyes, then in a lower voice asked, “Are you in the CIA?”

  Connor chuckled as he faced his mother. “No, Mom. Not the CIA.” He took a deep breath. “I’m in WitSec.”

  Connor spent the next hour explaining his situation to his family, despite the marshals’ objections. “They might as well hear the truth,” he’d countered. “They know I’m alive, and the best way to reign in the situation now is to lay out the stakes, give them the background and our reasoning for staging my death.”

  When Jones scowled and paced the kitchen, mumbling sourly, Connor had quipped, “Unless you’d rather erase their memory with one of those Men in Black flashy sticks. You have one of those, right?”

  “Can I tell Tracy?” Grant asked. “I don’t like the idea of keeping something this big from my wife. She won’t say anything.”

  “And what about my family? My mom and sisters?” Darby asked. “They should know. Especially since Savannah knows him as her uncle Connor. If he does end up donating his marrow, I’d think it would come out.”

  “No!” Raleigh said with a huff of frustration. “We need to shut this down. It doesn’t go any further than this room.” He pointed at Connor, adding, “And you should have kept to your cover with the little girl. Big mistake telling her your name was Connor.”

  “I told her that because she recognized the family resemblance. She knew I was a Mansfield brother before I opened my mouth.” Connor tapped his fist on the kit
chen table and divided a look between the marshals. “Here’s the deal. Half of the family knows I’m alive. Protecting my cover made sense when we thought I could slip into town, meet with the doctor and get out again without anyone knowing the truth. I didn’t consider the fact that my DNA test would rat me out or that the doctor’s office would call Darby about the discrepancy in what she’d told them about Savannah’s father.”

  He rubbed a hand along his cheek, weighing his options, and when he encountered the prosthetic beard, he groaned and peeled it off. “At this point, I can’t see any point in keeping up the charade. I say let Grant tell Tracy. Let Darby tell her family. They need to be aware of the potential threat so that they can take necessary precautions. And as Darby pointed out, if I do donate my marrow to Savannah, it will be harder to keep my identity secret.”

  “You really think these men, the Gale brothers, will come after you?” his mother asked.

  “I do. They think I betrayed them.”

  “They have a history of going after people they feel have crossed them,” Jones said, his jaw tense. “We have to take the threats they made against Sam seriously.”

  “His name is Connor,” Darby said with a defiant glare.

  “Not anymore,” Jones countered.

  “All right.” Connor raised his hands, signaling for a ceasefire. “I think, despite our intentions, the horse is out of the barn as far as my cover goes.”

  “He’s right.” Jones gave Raleigh a level look, then turned an accusing glare at Darby.

  She recognized the accusation and sat taller, stiffening, her expression defensive as she sputtered, “I didn’t—the doctor’s office called me and—how was I to know—”

  “It’s not your fault. No one’s blaming you.” Connor sent Jones a hard look and put a supportive hand on Darby’s arm, which she jerked away. “But you raise another good point. Savannah’s doctor needs to know the truth. My biological connection to Savannah could be relevant to Savannah’s care. Also however many members of her staff as needed to contain the speculation already circulating in the office.”