Kitabı oku: «When Love Comes Home»
“So what’s up? Did you call to check up on me?”
Paige laughed. “I’m looking for a youth hockey league in the area.”
“You’re in luck. I happen to have a buddy who’s a hockey fan, and he’s coach, commissioner and sponsor of the local youth league all rolled into one.”
“You call it lucky. I call it blessed. You, Grady Jones, are a blessing.”
For moments he literally floundered over the phone. Finally he sputtered, “Uh, n-no one, th-that is, what I mean… I take it this is for your son.”
“Who else? I know it’s an imposition, but my son wants to play hockey. It won’t make him happy, but I thought it might improve his attitude.”
Grady imagined that she seemed as reluctant to end the conversation as he was. He promised to talk to his buddy and get back to her soon. A moment of silence followed, then Paige spoke softly.
“I meant what I said, Grady. You’ve been an answer to prayer for me more than once, and I thank God for that.”
“Makes me wish I believed in prayer.”
ARLENE JAMES
says, “Camp meetings, mission work and the church where my parents and grandparents were prominent members permeate my Oklahoma childhood memories. It was a golden time, which sustains me yet. However, only as a young, widowed mother did I truly begin growing in my personal relationship with the Lord. Through adversity He blessed me in countless ways, one of which is a second marriage so loving and romantic it still feels like courtship!”
The author of over sixty novels, Arlene James now resides outside Dallas, Texas, with her husband. Arlene says, “The rewards of motherhood have indeed been extraordinary for me. Yet I’ve looked forward to this new stage of my life.” Her need to write is greater than ever, a fact that frankly amazes her, as she’s been at it since the eighth grade!
When Love Comes Home
Arlene James
MILLS & BOON
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Therefore, let those also who suffer according
to the will of God entrust their souls to a
faithful Creator in doing what is right.
—I Peter 4:19
Victoria, I know you are too small to read or even
understand this yet, but the place you hold in my
heart is immense, and it’s never too early to say,
“I love you.” Granna
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Letter to Reader
Questions for Discussion
Chapter One
Grady frowned across the desk at his older brother and fought the urge to fold his arms in an act of pure defiance. It wasn’t just that Dan expected Grady to spend Thanksgiving traveling for business but that he expected him to do it with Paige Ellis.
Pretty, petite Paige made Grady feel even more hulking and awkward than usual. It didn’t help that Dan might have just stepped out of the pages of a men’s fashion magazine. Slender and sleek, his dark hair having long since gone to silver, Dan served as a perfect contrast to his much larger—and much less dapper—younger brother. Dan was elegant, glittering silver compared to Grady’s dull-as-sand brown.
Dan’s white shirt looked as if it had just come off the ironing board, while Grady’s might have just come off the floor. The navy pinstripes in Dan’s expertly knotted burgundy tie perfectly matched his hand-tailored suit. Grady’s chocolate-brown neckwear, on the other hand, somehow clashed with a suit that he’d once thought brown but now seemed a dark, muddy green.
The only thing the Jones brothers seemed to share, besides their parents and a law practice, were eyes the vibrant blue of a perfect spring sky. Grady considered them wasted in the heavily featured expanse of his own square-jawed face.
“It’s not as if you’d enjoy the holiday anyway,” Dan was saying.
Grady grimaced, conceding the point. Okay, he wasn’t eagerly anticipating another chaotic feast at Dan’s place in Bentonville. Why would he? A fellow couldn’t even watch a good football game without one of his three nieces or sister-in-law interrupting every other minute.
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it,” he grumbled. “I said the timing stinks.”
No one wanted to spend a major holiday flying from Arkansas to South Carolina, but for Grady the task seemed especially disagreeable because it involved a woman and a kid.
Grady did not relate well to women, as his ex-wife had been fond of pointing out. She had contended that it had to do with losing his mother at such a young age, and no doubt she was right about that. He always felt inept and stupid in female company, never quite knowing what to say. As for children, well, he hadn’t known any, except for his nieces, and he’d pretty much kept his distance from them. These days their adolescent behavior made him feel as if he’d stumbled into an alternate universe.
Besides, family law was Dan’s forte, not Grady’s. Give him a good old bare-knuckle brawl of a lawsuit or a complicated legal trust to craft. Even criminal defense work was preferable to prenups, divorces and custody cases, though he hadn’t done much criminal defense since he’d left Little Rock. After his marriage had failed he’d come back home to Fayetteville and the general practice established by his and Dan’s father, Howard.
“The timing could be better,” Dan agreed, “but it is what it is.”
Grady made a face and propped his feet on the corner of his brother’s expansive cherrywood desk with a nonchalance he definitely was not feeling. “You’re the attorney of record,” he pointed out. “You should do this.”
Dan had worked every angle on this case from day one. By rights, he ought to be there at the moment of fruition. But Dan had a family who wanted him at the dinner table on Thanksgiving. And Grady had no feasible excuse for not stepping in, even at the last minute.
“Trust me,” Dan said, “Paige isn’t going to complain.”
Paige Ellis had doggedly pursued her ex after he’d disappeared with her son nearly three and a half years ago. Now the boy had been found and was waiting in custody of the state of South Carolina to be reunited with his mother.
Grady was glad for her. He just wished he didn’t have to be the one to shepherd her through this reunion. The petite, big-eyed blonde made Grady especially uncomfortable, despite the fact that they hadn’t exchanged half a dozen words in the three years or so that she’d been a client of their law firm.
“You’ll want to look this over,” Dan went on, plopping a file folder a good two inches thick onto the desk next to Grady’s feet. “All the pertinent paperwork is ready. You should probably take it with you when you inform Paige about her son.”
Grady bolted up straight in his chair, his feet hitting the floor. “Now hold on! The least you can do is deliver the news.”
Dan turned up both hands in a gesture of helplessness and rocked back in his burgundy leather chair. “Look, I’d love to deliver the good news, but this needs to be done in person ASAP, and Chloe has a jazz band program at three.”
Grady knew without even looking at his watch that it was at least half past two in the afternoon now. No way could Dan get to Nobb, where Paige Ellis lived, and back to Bentonville, where his daughters went to school, by three o’clock. If he skipped out on Chloe’s performance, Dan’s wife, Katie, was liable to skin him alive. Katie wasn’t shy about demanding that Dan make his family a priority. Grady didn’t understand how his brother could be so disgustingly happy in his marriage, but he was fond enough of Dan to be glad that it was so.
After a few more minutes of discussion, Grady sighed in resignation, gathered up the file folder and strode back to his office, grumbling under his breath. Just thinking about Paige Ellis made him feel even more hulking and plodding than usual.
Thanks to an expensively outfitted home gym, he was in better shape than most thirty-nine-year-olds, but that didn’t keep him from feeling too big and too clumsy. Standing a bare inch past six feet in his size twelve shoes, his square, blocky frame hard packed with two hundred pounds of pure muscle, he wasn’t exactly a giant, but he’d felt huge and oafish since puberty, when he’d dwarfed the other boys. In the company of some delicate, feminine little creature like Paige Ellis, he felt like a lumbering monster.
Entering his office, Grady turned down the lights, crossed the thick, moss-green carpet, dropped the folder onto his desk and switched on a lamp. He sat down in his oversize brown leather chair, tilted the bronze shade just so and opened the folder. He began thumbing through the notes and documents, scanning the material and jotting down notes as he went.
His ability to read quickly and comprehend completely was his greatest asset and brought in a considerable amount of income in consulting fees. Other attorneys knew that Grady by himself could accomplish more in the way of research than a roomful of clerks. Consequently he spent a good deal of his time alone at his desk.
Grady reached the end of the last page in the file. After making a copy of his notes for the folder, he tucked it into the file and carried the whole thing to the office of Dan’s terribly efficient personal secretary.
Janet was none too fond of Grady. She stared at the file that he placed on her desk, then looked up at him, her pale pink frown seeming to take issue with his very existence.
“What is this?”
“Case file.”
She blinked at him, her lashes too black and clumped together. “I can see that it’s a case file, but why are you giving it to me?”
“You’re Dan’s secretary.”
She let out a long-suffering sigh and narrowed her eyes at him, her lips compressed into a flat line.
Janet had given up complaining that Grady didn’t have his own personal secretary, but she made her displeasure known by grudgingly performing those tasks which he did not perform for himself or push off on the young receptionist. Grady had made a halfhearted attempt to find a male secretary at one point, but without success. He’d gotten by with a part-time male law clerk from the University of Arkansas School of Law. Having no personal secretary was an inconvenience, but he had no desire to stutter and stammer his way around a strange female.
Janet flipped open the file folder and checked the contents for herself. “Ah. The Ellis file.”
Grady’s face heated.
Without a word the secretary handed over the necessary warrants and writs that would be required to prove identities and custody assignments to the South Carolina authorities. She also passed Grady a map and a pair of printed sheets showing the next day’s available flights to and from South Carolina via the regional airport and Tulsa, some ninety minutes away. Then she immediately rose and carried the folder into the back room, where it would be swiftly and efficiently filed.
Donning a camel tan cashmere coat that reached midcalf, Grady took the elevator down to the parking lot and a cold, drizzling rain, briefcase in tow. He slung the briefcase on to the seat of his Mercedes and followed it, resisting the urge to huddle inside his coat until the heater started blowing warm air.
While navigating the forty-some miles between Fayetteville, Arkansas, and the tiny community of Nobb tucked into the foothills of the Ozarks to the northwest, Grady mulled over what he would say to Paige Ellis, much as he would have thought out an opening statement. He found the Ellis place on the edge of the village just past a pair of silos and a big, weathered barn. A dirt lane snaked upward slightly between gnarled hickories and majestic oaks, past tumbledown fencing and rusting farm implements to a small, white clapboard house.
After parking his sedan next to a midsize, seven-year-old SUV in dire need of a good washing, Grady stepped out of the car. A scruffy, well-fed black lab got up from a rug on the porch and lumbered lazily down the steep front steps to greet Grady with a sniff.
Dan had judged it best not to call before arriving, and Grady hadn’t questioned that decision. Paige Ellis worked from her home as a medical transcriptionist and kept regular hours, so she was apt to be available on any given weekday. Suddenly, though, Grady wondered if it was too late to warn her that he was about to descend upon her. Then the dog abruptly opened its yap and did that for him.
The seemingly placid dog howled an alarm that could have put the entire nation on alert. The lab couldn’t have been more vociferous if Grady had shown up wearing a black mask and hauling a crate full of hissing cats.
Feeling like a felon, Grady hotfooted it to the house, practically leapt the steps leading up to the porch and skidded to a halt in front of the door, which needed a coat of white paint. He saw no bell, but a brass knocker with a cross-shaped base had been attached to the door at eye level and engraved with the words, As for me and my house, we shall serve the Lord.
Somehow Grady was not surprised to find this evidence that Paige Ellis was a believer. Dan and his family were Christians, active in their local church and given to praying about matters, as was his father, but Grady himself was something of a secret skeptic. He didn’t see any point in arguing about it, but he privately wondered if God even existed. If so, why would He let so many bad things happen, like his mother’s death and Paige Ellis’s son being abducted by her ex-husband?
With the dog still barking to beat the band, Grady reached for the knocker, but before his hand touched the cool metal, the door yanked open. There stood an old fellow with more balding head than sooty, graying hair. Slightly stooped and dressed in a plaid shirt, khakis, suspenders and laced boots, his potbellied weight supported on one side by a battered cane, he swept Grady with faded brown eyes recessed deeply behind a hooked nose that had been broken at least once. Apparently satisfied, he looked past Grady to yell at the dog.
“Shut up, Howler!”
To Grady’s relief, the aptly named dog seemed to swallow his last bark, then calmly padded toward the porch.
“Matthias Porter,” the old man said, stacking his gnarled hands atop the curved head of his cane. “Who’re you?”
Grady had at least four inches and fifty pounds on Porter, and that cane wasn’t for show, but the way the old fellow held himself told Grady that he was a scrapper and the self-appointed protector of this place. Grady put out his hand, aware of the dog moving toward the rug on one end of the porch.
“Grady Jones. I’m here to see—”
“Jones,” the older man interrupted, “you’re Paige’s attorney, ain’t you?”
Grady nodded. “Actually, my brother, Dan—”
Porter didn’t wait to hear about Dan or anything else. Backing up, he waved Grady into the house, saying, “I don’t shake. Too painful. Arthritis in my hands. And you’re letting in cold air.”
His ears still ringing from the dog’s howling, Grady stepped forward and found himself in a small living room. He took in at a glance the braided rag rug on the dull wood floor, the old-fashioned sofa covered in a worn quilt, the yellowed shade on the spotted brass lamp next to a broken-down recliner and a wood-burning stove that filled a corner between two doors. A shelving unit stood against one wall at an angle to the recliner and couch. In its center, surrounded by books and numerous photos of a young boy, sat a combination television-set-and-VCR.
Grady knew that the search for Paige Ellis’s son had been expensive. If the condition of this house and its furnishings were any indication, the search had required every spare cent that she could scrape together. Feeling out of place and too big for the space, Grady watched Matthias Porter hobble through a door and disappear into a hallway. He had no idea who Matthias Porter was, but it didn’t matter. Standing there like an overgrown houseplant, the handle of his briefcase gripped in one fist, he waited with a strange combination of dread and anticipation for Paige Ellis to show herself.
Paige looked up from the computer screen as Matthias entered the room, her fingers automatically typing out the words that continued to drone into her ears. The interruption was sufficiently unusual, however, to have her shutting off the recording a moment later.
Matthias had been a great comfort since he’d moved in nearly two years ago, and he never interrupted her work with anything trivial. Beneath his gruff, somewhat aloof exterior, he was really very sweet and considerate, not to mention protective. She tossed the headphones onto the desk.
“What’s wrong?”
“Dunno. But something’s up. You got company.”
“Who is it?”
The answer knocked her back down into her chair. “Jones.”
Her heart thudded heavily. Vaughn. This could only be about Vaughn. Why else would her attorney arrive here unannounced? “Lord, please let this be good news,” she prayed, gulping. She looked up at Matthias. “Did Dan Jones say why he’s here?”
Matthias shook his head. “Not Dan. Big fella. Says his name’s Grady.”
Grady Jones was Dan’s brother and law partner. She could see even less reason for his presence. As curious as she was shaken now, she stood up to her full five feet height and moved woodenly around the desk that occupied almost all of her tiny office.
The room was really nothing more than a screened-in back porch roughly converted with plywood, batts of insulation and plastic sheeting. When Matthias had moved in, she’d refused to even consider taking over Vaughn’s bedroom, so this had become her only option.
Paige tugged at the cardigan that she wore with jeans and a flannel shirt and led the way down the hall to the living room, smoothing her fine, yellow blond hair en route. The last cut had been a bit too short and shaggy for her taste, but the stylist had insisted that the wispy ends feathering about her triangular face made her chin look less sharp and brought out the soft green of her eyes. Since her large, tip-tilted eyes already dominated her slender face, Paige wasn’t so sure that was a good thing, but it was too late now to worry about it.
Matthias skirted the stove and went into the kitchen as Paige greeted Grady Jones, offering her hand.
“Mr. Jones.”
He backed up a step, before slowly reaching out to briefly close his large, square palm around her small hand. Her heart flip-flopped. She’d seen him often around the office in Fayetteville when consulting with Dan, but they’d rarely spoken. A big man with even, masculine features, he reminded her of a bear standing there in that expensive tan overcoat, a wary bear with electric-blue eyes.
“Can I take your coat?”
“Oh, uh, that’s all right,” he said, shucking the long, supple length of it and draping it over one arm.
“Won’t you have a seat then?” She gestured toward the sofa.
Nodding, he backed up to the couch and gingerly folded himself down onto it as if worried he might break the thing. For some reason she found that endearing. She perched next to him, crossing her ankles, and waited until he placed his briefcase at his feet and dropped his coat onto the cushion beside him.
“What’s going on?” she asked warily.
“First of all,” he said, his voice deep and rumbling, “I want you to know that Dan would have come himself if possible.”
She swallowed and nodded her understanding, afraid to ask what was so important that her attorney’s partner and brother would come in his stead. Fortunately, Grady Jones didn’t keep her in suspense.
“It’s good news,” he stated flatly. “We’ve found your son.”
She heard the words, even understood that her prayers had finally been answered, but for so long she’d accepted disappointment after disappointment, while trusting that this day would eventually come. Now suddenly it had, and she sat there too stunned to shift from faith to realization.
Then Grady Jones began to explain that Vaughn had been picked up from school by child welfare officials in South Carolina, where his father was being held under arrest after an alert state trooper conducting a routine traffic stop, had recognized him from one of the many electronic flyers they’d distributed to law enforcement agencies around the country. Finally, the realization sank in.
Vaughn was safe and waiting for her to come for him! At last, at long last, her son was coming home!
Clasping her hands together, Paige did the only thing she could think to do. She closed her eyes, turned her face toward the ceiling and thanked God.
“Oh, Father! I praise Your holy name. Thank You. Thank You! Vaughn’s coming home!” She began to laugh, tears rolling down her face. “He’s coming home. My son is coming home!”
Grady Jones cleared his throat. Paige beamed at him. With two bright spots of color flying high in his cheeks, he looked down. That was when she realized that she was gripping his hand with both of hers.
She was crying and laughing at the same time. How was a man supposed to react to that? Grady wondered. Displays of emotion always unnerved him. He’d been uncomfortable before; now he wanted to crawl into a cave somewhere. Racking his brain for something, anything, to say, he came up blank, which left him feeling even more hopelessly inadequate than usual.
She suddenly released him, jerking her hands back into her own lap as if he’d snapped at them with his teeth. He felt a fresh flush of embarrassment, but at least his brain began to work again. After a few moments he realized that certain matters had to be addressed. He opened his briefcase and extracted documents, explaining each in detail.
The first would allow the Carolina authorities to release information which would help prove the boy’s identity and had already been faxed to the appropriate party. The next proved her identity. Another granted her custody in the state of Arkansas. The fourth proved that such a grant both superseded and complied with Carolina law, and so on. The last document was a charge filed against Nolan Vaughn Ellis for interference with the lawful physical custody of a minor, allowing the state of South Carolina to hold him until such time as the issue of jurisdiction could be settled. Finally came the flight schedules.
“We assumed you wouldn’t want to wait until after the holiday to be reunited with your son,” Grady told her matter-of-factly.
“I’d go right this minute if I could!” she declared, wiping at her eyes with delicate, trembling fingertips.
He thought of the fresh, lightly starched handkerchief in his pocket, then he looked into her eyes and promptly forgot it again. Those enormous eyes, sparkling now with happy tears, were a soft, muted sea green. He was vaguely aware of the perfect cupid’s bow of her dusky pink lips and the adorable button of her nose, but up close like this he couldn’t get past those big eyes. Her long, brown lashes, spiked now with her tears, seemed gloriously unadorned. She put him in mind of a sprite or a fairy, her sunny yellow hair wisping at the nape of her neck and around her face. The delicate arch of her pale brows proved that the blond shade was completely natural.
Grady gulped and forced his mind back to the issue at hand.
“Uh, that’s, uh, why I’m here instead of Dan. Th-the holiday, I mean. Dan has to consider his family, you understand, but I have no obligations of that sort.”
She tilted her head as if trying to figure out why that should be the case. After a long moment she said, “I see.”
He winced inwardly, feeling as if she’d looked him over and found the reason why he, unlike his brother, was alone and unattached.
“You, um, you just tell me which of these times works best for you,” he mumbled, flushing with embarrassment yet again.
Smiling slightly, she took the printed flight schedules into her small hands and bent her head over them. The edges of the paper trembled. Realizing that she was very likely in shock, he felt duty-bound to point out that the flights leaving from Tulsa were considerably cheaper than those leaving the regional airport.
She nodded and after several seconds said breathlessly, “Early would be best, wouldn’t it?”
“If we hope to get there and back in the same day, yes, I’d say so. Plus, they’re an hour ahead of us on the East Coast, and we could have lots of legal hurdles to jump before we can bring a minor back across the state lines.”
“Well, then, the 5:58 a.m. flight is probably best.”
Grady nodded, mentally cringing at how early he’d have to get up to have her at the airport in Tulsa before five o’clock in the morning as security rules dictated. Might as well not even go to bed. Except, of course, that he had to be alert enough for a two-hour drive to the airport in Oklahoma.
“Can you be ready to leave by three in the morning?” he asked apologetically.
She nodded with unadulterated enthusiasm, handing over the papers. “Oh, yes. I doubt I’ll sleep at all, frankly.”
“I’ll be here for you at three, then.”
“No, wait,” she muttered thoughtfully, drawing those fine brows together. “You’ll be coming from Fayetteville, won’t you?”
“Yes.”
She smiled, and he caught his breath. She literally glowed with happiness.
“Then I’ll come to you,” she told him. “It’ll save time.”
Grady frowned. “I couldn’t let you do that.”
Her tinkling laughter put him in mind of sleigh bells and crisp winter mornings.
“You forget, Mr. Jones,” she said with mock seriousness, “that you work for me. Shall we meet at your office? Say, three-thirty? That’s cutting it fine, I know, but I can’t imagine we’ll encounter much traffic along the way.”
Her plan would save him over an hour all told, but he just couldn’t handle the thought of her being out on the road alone at that hour.
“I’ll pick you up here,” he insisted.
She blinked, then she smiled. “I guess I’ll see you here at three in the morning.”
Only then did it occur to him that he might have explained his reasoning instead of just growling at her. Confounded, he snapped the papers inside his briefcase once more and got to his feet, muttering that he had to go.
She popped up next to him, asking, “How can I thank you?” Then next thing he knew, she’d thrown her arms around him in a hug.
“N-no need,” he rumbled, his face hot enough to incinerate.
“Please thank your brother for me, too,” she went on, tucking her hands behind her and skittering toward the door.
Grady had heard the term “dancing on air” all his life; this was the first time he’d actually witnessed it.
He ducked his head in a nod and stuffed one arm down a sleeve, groping for his briefcase. Getting a grip on the handle, he headed for the door, still trying to find the other armhole of his coat.
“Mr. Jones,” called a rusty voice behind him.
He froze, looking back warily over one shoulder, his coat trailing on the floor. Matthias Porter stood next to the stove, beaming, his eyes suspiciously moist. Grady lifted his eyebrows in query.
“I’ll see she gets some rest,” the old man promised. “Don’t you worry none about that.”
“Very good,” Grady muttered.
Paige opened the door, and he charged out onto the porch. The dog pushed itself up on to all fours and assaulted his eardrums with howling, multioctave barks, the top end of which ought to have shattered glass.
“Howler, hush up!” Matthias Porter bawled from inside the house, and the fat black thing dropped back down onto its belly as if it had been felled with a hammer.
“Thank you again!” Paige called. “Try to get some rest.”
Grady scrambled for his car in silence, desperate to get away, but once he was behind the wheel and headed back down the rutted drive, he found that the day was not so gray as it had seemed before. He thought of the happy glow that had all but pulsed from Paige Ellis’s serene eyes, and he couldn’t help smiling to himself.
He suspected that he’d never again think of Thanksgiving as merely a turkey dinner and a football game.
