Marcus thought it was realrad thatStevie got to be home-schooled. Your folksare really neat, Marcus said.Only they weren"t really his folks, and if anyoneever found out, they"d take him away.
Whenever he thought about that, his heart felt like it was going to poundright through his chest and he couldn"t breathe. He would never tell.
Never, never, never.
The stupid lady who asked him piles of questions in a little room in the jailkept asking him hard stuff, like where he was born and did he havegrandparents. He knew he messed up on his answers, but he"d been so scaredhe"d gotten all the things Moira had told him to say scrambled up in his head.
The lady got a funny look on her face, and then she took him to his housewhere another lady fussed over him. Stuff got all messed up after that. Allkinds of people came to the house, asking where he went to school and what wasthe name of his doctor and did he ever go to church.
No one was going to make him say nothing he didn"t want to.Stevie Wilsonwasn"t no dumb dweeb. He knew how to hang tough. No one was gonna make him donothing he didn"t want to. Following the rules was for suckers, Lance said.Guys like you and me, kid, we"re cool, he said.
A strange, scary feeling started in the back of his head, and his heartstarted pounding real bad. What if he never saw Moira and Lance again? What ifthe big blond guy reallywashis father?
Trudy, the lady at the house where they stuck him, said this guy Grady was acop.Stevie had seen his gun at the airport when they"d gone to a special roomto get permission to get on the plane.
Steviehad seen guys like him in the movies. Like Clint Eastwood in"DirtyHarry"which was his favorite cop show or maybe Mel Gibson in those movies,only Mel was a lot shorter and maybe not even as tough. The look aroundtheeyes was the same, though. Like he could look right through you and know stuffyou were trying to hide.
Steviewas pretty sure he didn"t like Grady much. He had big hands,Stevieknew. He"d felt the calluses when the guy was washing his back. Had he reallymeant to kill him when he shoved him under the water?
His stomach pinched hard, and he scrambled to his knees. Holding tight to thepillow, he scooted backward until he was smashed against the curvy railings.
He didn"t want to get beaten.
He didn"t want to die.
He wanted to go home.
He wanted to be in his own bed with his own stuff. He didn"t want to be in a strange place with people he didn"t know. No matter what they said, he knew better than to trust them.
He wasn"t exactly sure why, but he knew that guy, Grady, had something to dowith Moira and Lance being in jail.Stevie had seen how everyone looked at him,like he was some important dude.
He said dumb stuff, too. Like how he lovedStevie and all.
OnlyStevie knew better. He"d seen a lot of cop shows on the tube. Grady justwantedStevie to say bad stuff about Moira and Lance so he could keep them injail.
And that stuff about being his son, well, that madeStevie really nervous. But... maybe Grady and the pretty lady with green eyes and a soft voice onlythought he was their son. Maybe, if he threw them an att.i.tude, they wouldn"twant him and they"d take him back to California.
He knew all about att.i.tude. Talking back and using bad words. Moira hadthreatened to throw him off Sunset Cliffs if he didn"t stop mouthing off.
Yeah, that was it. Att.i.tude. n.o.body wanted a smart-a.s.s.
Stevieclosed his eyes and hugged the pillow tighter. Thetears that had shamedhim earlier started all over again, and he clamped his mouth shut real hard tokeep from makingthose dumb s...o...b..ry noises.
He saw the light slice across the floor a split secondbefore he saw Gradystanding in the doorway. He wa.s.stripped down to his jeans, and his bare chestseemed almost as wide as the door.Stevie froze, his stomach making like aroller coaster.
Lance worked out a lot, and he had big muscles. But Grady"s were bigger, andhe walked like the tigersStevie loved to watch in the San Diego Zoo.Kindaproud, like. And sort of dangerous.
"Thought you might want a gla.s.s of water or maybe some milk before turningin," Grady said as he came forward. "Me, I"d rather coffee but you have a fewyears to go for that."
"I have coffee all the time in California,"Stevie blurted out. It wasn"tquite a lie. Moira sometimes let him finish hers.
"Yeah?" Grady sat down on the bed, making the mattress sag a lot.
"All the time,"Stevie repeated, hugging the pillow a little tighter.
"Guess that makes you tougher than me, because I threw up the first time Ifilched some of my dad"s java."
"I never-"Stevie stopped just in time to keep from making a dumb fool ofhimself. Even so, he felt his face getting hot as fire. "It was your fault Igot sick. You made me come here!"
He held his breath, waiting for Grady to raise that big hand. Instead, Gradyjust tugged a little on the sheet, straightening it.
"You ever been fishing, son?"
Stevieblinked. What kind of a scam was the guy pulling, anyway?
"My dad-your grandpa-gave me my first pole when I was about your age.Ihatedjust sitting there, staring atthe water, doing nothing, which is just aboutthe hardest thing in the world for me. Thought I should be able to just tossin my line and come up with a big fat catfish. But it didn"t work that way...Took meone solid year of trying before I caught anything bigger than aminnow."Gradylaughed then, crinkling up his eyes.Stevie felt a little dizzy,like the world had just tilted.
"I threatened to quit a dozen times. Broke my pole clean in two once, andthen had to do ch.o.r.es for a month soIcould buy another one."
Steviewaited, but Grady just looked at him, his mouth curved a little. "Sodid you ever catch anything?" he asked when he couldn"t stand it any longer.
"Yep. A whole stringer of big suckers." His grin flashed, stirring upStevie"shead again. "Your dad holds the Hardin family record for the biggest catfishpulled out of Lake Freeman."
"I"ve never seen a catfish,"Stevie admitted, intrigued in spite of himself."Does it really look like a cat?"
"Yep. The face part, anyway. Has this big old whiskers. I"ll show you one ofthese days."
Steviefelt a rush of panic and pulled back. "I hate fishing. Fishing"s forlosers."
Grady did raise his hand then, but only to put it onStevie"s knee. "One morething I learned from my dad besides how to bait a hook," he said in a voicethat was real soft and maybe a little rough. "It"s called patience, son. Lotsand lots of patience."
He squeezedStevie"s knee, then stood. BeforeStevie could move, Grady reacheddown and roughed up his hair a little. The dizzy feeling flared again,andStevie blinked.
"Good night, son," Grady said, his voice even rougher. "I love you, and I"mglad you"re home. One of these days I think you will be, too."
Steviesat for a long time staring at the crack in the door. And then finally,he closed his eyes. The last thing he remembered was the feeling of Grady"sbig hand on his knee. Strange as it seemed, it made him feel ... safe.
Chapter 6.
Itwasn"t quite six, but it was already light. Afraid thatshe"d only dreamedthe miracle of Jimmy"s return,Ria had leaped out of bed as soon as she"dopened her eyes.
Jimmy was still asleep, sprawled on his tummy at a rebellious angle. He hadkicked off the covers, and his pajamas were twisted around his skinny body asthough he"d spent the night wrestling with the covers. Though her eyes feltgritty from lack of sleep and the tears she"d shed, she suspected they wereshining like bright stars. And inside, she felt little bubbles of happinessbursting in her chest. She loved him so much it was sometimes a physical achein the vicinity of her heart. Her precious miracle.
She smiled as she caught sight of his bare feet. They seemed huge, comparedto the rest of his body. Like a puppy"s outsize paws. According to Sarah,Grady had been wearing size thirteen since the age of eleven, which was one ofthe reasons he"d been so clumsy and uncoordinated as a teenager.
Jimmyhad taken his share of tumbles, too-most notably at the age of two and ahalf when he"d fallen from the top of the kitchen counter, which he"d scaledin order to gorge himself on the gingerbread men she"d set out to cool. He"dbeen as resilient as a rubber ball. Grady had sworn he"d actually bounced.
Her heart thumped a little too fast as she tiptoed across the hand-woven rugto smooth just the tips of her fingers over the thatch of unruly hair that wasas thick and silky now as his dad"s.
Flynn was right, she thought, smiling through a sudden wash of happy tears.Her baby needed a haircut. Not his favorite thing, something else he"dinherited from his dad, who, even as a giant of a man, had squirmed like alittle boy whenever he"d had to sit still for more than a fewminutes.
After their first and last nerve-racking trip to the barbershop, she andGrady had taken to tr.i.m.m.i.n.g Jimmy"s hair themselves. Ithadtaken the two ofthem to get him shorn-one to do the cutting, the other to distract him with afavorite story. Since Grady still read painfully slowly, he made up storiesinstead. About a famous circus clown namedJimbo who was always havingoutrageous adventures.
They"d had so much, she and Grady. A fantastic son, a funky house full oflaughter-theirs and the lingering vibrations of other families-and each other.
If only- No, she told herself firmly. Don"t go down that road. Think of the blessingsyou have now, not the ones you let slip away.
Careful not to make noise, she closed the door and continued down the hall tothe living room. She expected to find Grady awake, perhaps out running the wayhe"d done almost every morning of their marriage. Instead, to her surprise, hewas still deeply asleep, sprawled on his back on the floor with only theblanket she"d given him as a mattress.
His jeans and shirt were slung over a chair, his running shoes nearby. Hislong legs were half tangled in the sheet, the pillow in the flowered casecradled against his wide, bare chest in much the same way he"d once held her.
His lean, somewhat bony face, framed by one thick forearm crooked behind hishead, was turned her way. The brutally gaunt lines of his cheeks were softeneda little by thick stubble the color of wheat, but nothing could disguise thedeep lines of bitterness and suffering bracketing his mouth. Lines that hadn"tbeen there three years ago.
Like Jimmy"s, his hair was tousled, the glossy, springy strands of light anddark blond, and a surprising amount of silver, blended into a provocativemixture that defied precise description. In contrast to the soft thatch, thepermanent lines etched into his forehead seemed painfully harsh.
He looked worn out.
No wonder, she thought, her heart tumbling a little. Three nights on asagging sofa and now this.
Even though the room was cool, his bare chest was covered with a fine film ofsweat, giving his skin the illusion of hand-rubbed bronze, and the triangle ofhair curled in damp ringlets around the tiny flat nipples.
As she stood there debating whether to wake him or not, he stirredrestlessly, muttering something only he understood before drawing up one leg.The sheet fell away, and she saw that he was wearing only dark blue briefs,the thin cotton stretched taut to accommodate his s.e.x.
He was, she realized suddenly, partially aroused, as though his dream was anerotic one. Feeling a disturbing and decidedly s.e.xual tug in her midsection,she scrupulously averted her gaze as she tiptoed past.
Sensing an intrusion, a presence, Grady fought through a gray wall ofexhaustion, his body already reacting before his mind was fully alert.Consequently he was halfway to his feet before he realized where he was.
"Is it Jimmy?" he demanded when he sawRia tiptoeing past. She was wearing athin cotton robe the color of lime sherbet, and her hair was still a littlemussed. His libido sneaked in a hard kick, adding more pressure to his alreadyheavy groin.
"Good morning," she said, altering her course in order to open the drapescovering the large picture window overlooking the building"s tidy front lawn."I was on the way to the kitchen to make coffee. I tried not to wake you."
"What time is it?"
"A little past six."
Grady remembered looking at his watch around four. Two hours wasn"t much, but.i.t was better than the night before.
He reached for his jeans, far too aware of the heavy throb of arousal that hesuspected had been the result of yet another dream of her. Sometimes heremembered them in stark and painful degree. Sometimes he woke with only wispsof memory. Both left him with a lingering feeling of loss.
He stretched his stiff back, then rubbed his hand over his whisker-roughenedcheeks. In spite of the bath he"d gotten while cooling down his son,hefelt alittle too raunchy for polite company.
"Mind if I use your shower?"
Her gaze skittered to his belly, and he realized he was rubbing the fire thatburned there now morning and night.
"No, of course not."
He glanced at the duffel, then narrowed his gaze her way. Her skin was pale,but her eyes had lost the sad look that had tortured him every time he"d seenher during the twenty-six miserable months since she"d stopped being his wife.
"I"m pretty much out of clean clothes. Guess you threw away all those oldshirts you used to sleep in."
She nodded. "I"m afraid I-no, wait, Idohave one that I used when I painted myoffice at the Center. It"s fairly ratty, but it"s clean-and it doesn"t smelllike cigar." His heart stuttered when she suddenly smiled. "If you make the coffee, I"ll dig it out for you."
He decided there wasn"t much hewouldn"tdo for another of those smiles. "You got a deal."
Kate arrived while Grady was in the shower. Nearly six feet tall and a.s.sleekly stylish as a haute couture model, with short platinum curls framing acla.s.sically beautiful face and brilliant blue eyes, Kate turned heads, bothmale and female, wherever she went.
An avid feminist and avowed cynic, she andRia were temperamental opposites.The Viking and the Earth Mother,Tova called them.
Born and reared in Shaker Heights, Ohio, the only daughter of a corporateCEO, Katie"s upbringing had been as rich in love and security asRia"s had beenimpoverished. It had been her money that had bought the big old house onWabash Drive. The operating capital, however, came from fees and donations.Twice a year they had a fund-raising reception at which Katie shone like apriceless jewel in glittering designer chic and pearls.
EverythingRia knew about the upscale side of life, she"d learned from Katie.At the moment, however, dressed in baggy safari shorts and a faded red cargoshirt with a frayed collar and an ink stain on one sleeve, Katie looked morelike a harried, overworked coed than the pampered only daughter of amultimillionaire.
"Coffee," she muttered as she followedRia into the kitchen. "Lots and lots ofcoffee. Make it strong."
"Trust me, it"s strong,"Ria tossed over her shoulder. And as black as sin.
As soon as Grady had disappeared into the bathroom with the old Boilermakershirt draped over his shoulder and one big hand wrapped around a mug of thesteaming caffeine sludge he"d brewed, she"d ducked into her bedroom to slipinto shorts and a sleeveless V-necked shirt. She"d only been able to find oneof her sandals, so her feet were still bare.
"It"s going to be another scorcher today," Kate muttered as she deposited herblack bag and a bulging purse the size of a small car on the counter. "Gottatell you, toots, I was well and truly blown away by your call last night," shedeclared before braving the steam of the coffee mugRia handed her to take agreedy sip. "Which, by the way, caught me just coming out of the shower. AfterI hung up, I danced around the housestarkers for a good twenty minutes. Darnnear wore myself out celebrating."
Riagrinned. "Now that was something I"d pay big money to see."
Katie"s lips curled at the corners. "Pres seemed to like it."
Rianearly choked on her own testing sip. "Pres?"
"Preston Woodward IV. An old friend from Shaker."
"Friend as in friend-friend or friend-lover?"
"Yes and yes." She took another longer sip, her eyes twinkling.
Riashook her head.
"So, Mom, how"s your baby boy doing on this already miserably humid day?"
Riafelt her face soften. One day, maybe, she"d take his reappearance in herlife for granted. But she wasn"t anywhere near that stage yet. "Still sleepinglike a little angel last time I checked."