Accidental Homecoming

by Sabrina York

  How would he react when she told him he was a father? The question kept her tossing and turning all night.

  In the morning, she put her suitcase into the trunk of her car and went to the hospital with Nan at her side. As she walked into Emma’s room, she put on a bright smile, though it cost her.

  She’d never left Emma. Never. Not even for a day. Certainly not for an entire weekend. The fact that her baby was still in the hospital battling an infection didn’t help at all.

  “Hello, pumpkin. How are you doing this morning?” She kissed her daughter in greeting.

  Emma’s eyes crinkled over her mask. “There were pancakes for breakfast.”

  “Ooh,” Nan cooed. “Lucky you.” Pancakes were Emma’s favorite.

  “With blueberries.”

  “Blueberries?” Lizzie widened her eyes. “Wow.”

  “Classy stuff,” Nan said as she sat by Emma on the bed.

  The child’s eyes went solemn. “Blueberries have antioxi ants.”

  “Antioxidants?” Nan, a lawyer, liked to clarify every fact.

  Emma nodded. “They’re good for me.”

  “Taste good, too,” Lizzie said with a forced smile. “Listen, hon, I have to...” Heavens, this was hard to say.

  Nan hopped in to help. “Your mom’s going on a little business trip.”

  Emma’s expression clouded. “What?”

  Lizzie glared at Nan. She could have broken it more gently. “It’s only for a few days. I’ll be back before you’re even ready to come home. Aunt Nan’s going to stay with you. Is that okay?”

  Emma swallowed. “Only for a few days?”

  Lizzie hated that her little mask trembled. “I promise.”

  “We’ll do some fun things,” Nan assured her. “They said I can bring in some DVDs. We can watch The Lion King again.”

  Soulful brown eyes brightened. “I love that movie. Can we have ice cream, too?”

  Nan blinked. She glanced at Lizzie for guidance.

  “You know you need to ask the nurses,” she told her daughter. “But I’m sure some special treats can be arranged.”

  “Well, all right, then.”

  It was a trifle discomfiting that Emma accepted these concessions so easily. It was, after all, the first time they’d ever been apart. In her entire life. Lizzie had expected a tear at least. It took a moment for her to swallow an inappropriate sense of umbrage. It was a good thing, after all, that Emma didn’t need to rely on her alone. Wasn’t it?

  “You’d better get going,” Nan said.

  Lizzie frowned at her. “Trying to get rid of me?”

  “You have a long drive.”

  She sighed. “I suppose.” Loath to leave, she jangled her car keys and then, at Nan’s glance, bent down to hug her daughter. “You be good, all right?”

  “I’m always good,” Emma responded.

  “I’ll be good, too,” Nan said with a wink, snuggling into the bed at Emma’s side.

  “Did you bring the movie with you?” Emma asked, that easily sloughing off her mother’s clinging angst.

  “I most certainly did.” Nan produced it from her purse with a flourish. Together, they bleated out the opening strains to “Circle of Life.”

  Suddenly, Lizzie wanted more than anything to stay and watch the movie with them. The movie she’d seen about a hundred times already. But she couldn’t. She had to go.

  “Well,” she sighed. “I suppose I should leave.”

  Nan’s expression grew soft. “We’ll be fine.”

  “Drive safe, Mommy,” Emma added, but she was clearly more interested in the DVD by now.

  Okay. She wasn’t needed. Emma was safe, and Lizzie had a very important, though dreaded mission to complete. Without further delay—because if she delayed, she might chicken out—she kissed her daughter again, and quickly left the room.

  And hoped like hell she was doing the right thing.

  * * *

  Danny shifted in his seat as he waited for his dinner. This was his third evening in Butterscotch Ridge and he’d eaten every meal at the B&G. Chase’s restaurant had been a pleasant surprise. Despite the slightly dated exterior, it was freshly painted and modern, though it featured antique farming tools and paintings of cows on the walls. The food choices were interesting and fresh, and the beer was cold. The only thing that struck him as odd was, whenever he walked through the door, all conversation stopped, and everyone turned to look at him. Each and every time.

  It kind of set his teeth on edge, but he just turned his back on them and focused on his food.

  This morning, a stranger had interrupted his breakfast, looming over him, and had asked, “’Scuse me?”

  Danny had glanced up—way up—at a tall man wearing a Stetson, checkerboard shirt and actual chaps. His boots were dusty and his belt buckle was seriously enormous. A cowboy for sure. “Yeah?”

  The guy tucked his thumbs in his pockets and crooked his head to the side. “You look familiar. Do you ride the circuit?”

  Danny blinked. “The circuit?”

  “Rodeo circuit.”

  Somehow, he didn’t laugh. “Oh. No.” Not only no, but hell, no. He’d never even been on a horse.

  “Huh. I could swear I seen you somewhere before.” He turned back to the bar and hollered, “Not the circuit.” Some of the men at the bar groaned, but a few others cheered and collected the money lying on the bar.

  Danny had brushed it off as small-town curiosity about newcomers, but he’d been here three nights and two full days and the people were still staring. And, he noticed, whispering among themselves.

  Even now, there was a tall guy at the bar who kept looking over his shoulder in Danny’s direction. Small town curiosity or not, he didn’t like it. Fortunately, Chase appeared with his dinner just then.

  “Here you go, buddy. One bacon jam burger and fries.”

  Danny nodded his thanks and prepared to dig in. The bacon jam burger was his favorite of anything he’d tried off the menu so far.

  But rather than heading back to the kitchen, Chase dropped into the banquette across from him. Another feature of life in a small town, perhaps? “How’s the hotel?” he asked.

  Danny squirted ketchup on his fries and shrugged. “It’s a hotel.”

  Chase chuckled. “Well, you’re welcome to come stay at my place until Bill gets back, if you want. It’s not the Ritz, but it’s clean and I have cable.” He grimaced. “Well, it’s sorta clean.”

  “Thanks.” As much as he appreciated the offer, getting close—to anyone in this town—was probably a mistake until he knew more about his circumstances. Aside from that, Chase had three kids and a wife. He much preferred the solitude of his single room. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Chase nodded. “I get it. Just know the offer is open.”

  “Much appreciated.”

  “Well, enjoy your burger,” he said, then grinned again and headed back to the bar.

  As Danny watched him go, he realized he didn’t mind the intrusion of his privacy as much as he thought he did. In fact, it was kind of nice to have a friend in a strange place. Granted, they’d just met, but Chase had been a better friend in a few days than some of his buddies in Vegas had been in a lifetime. That was why, in the last few years, he’d worked to weed the vampires out of his life. Especially the ones who sapped his strength, his hope and his good intentions.

  It was a damn shame his mother was one of those.

  When he thought about it, there was only one person in his life who had given more than she’d taken. Lizzie.

  Lizzie had supported him when his mother tried to tear him down. She’d believed in him. Encouraged him. Loved him. There was a hole in his life, in his soul, where she’d once been. What he wouldn’t give to see her again. Just once. Maybe talk to her. Figure out what had gone wrong. Fi
x it, maybe.

  He knew better than to hope for that. Things had never gone easy for him. Life had never handed him anything. He’d had to work for every scrap.

  Despite his mother’s influence, Danny had always been an optimistic sort, believing that things always happened for a reason, and had strived to never give up. This outlook had helped him survive a very unpleasant childhood. Even as a young kid, he’d convinced himself that our trials on earth were meant to make us wiser and stronger, and therefore weren’t really as cruel as they seemed at the time. But he also believed that God had a wicked sense of humor, and Danny was the butt of far too many of His jokes. Hopefully someone, somewhere, got a laugh out of all of this.

  It was hardly fair, though. Because he had tried to find Lizzie again. Tried and tried. But it seemed as though she hadn’t wanted to be found.

  Chase interrupted his dismal thoughts—again—when he returned to the booth with a wicked grin, one that made Danny’s neck prickle. “Well, you may be interested to know that I figured it out,” he said.

  Danny quirked an eyebrow. “Figured what out?”

  “Why you look so familiar to everyone.”

  Chase waved someone over—the man at the bar who’d been watching him. He was a good-looking guy, Danny thought—tall and tanned with a slow, easy lope. They were about the same age. He was clearly another cowboy—which was no surprise.

  What was a surprise was the dimple that exploded on his cheek when he smiled—a tight offering. It made something cold shimmy down Danny’s spine.

  Chase greeted his friend with a slap on the back. “Here he is. Danny, meet Mark.” He leaned in and added, “Mark Stirling.”

  Stirling? Danny sat back and stared at the man with sharper clarity. So this was what a Stirling looked like. He stood and extended his hand. He couldn’t help but notice Mark had a pretty strong grip. He tried to match it, which only made Mark’s lips twitch.

  Once he got his hand back, fairly uncrushed, Danny gestured to the booth. “You, uh, want to join me?”

  He was surprised when both Mark and Chase nodded with alacrity, although, he noticed, they didn’t bother with food. Chase just called for beers. Then, once they had their drinks, they sat there and stared at him. Neither seemed inclined to broach the subject at hand.

  “All right,” Danny said, taking the proverbial bull by the horns. “What’s this all about?”

  The two men exchanged a glance and Mark blew out a breath. “It’s about the old man’s will, I s’pose.”

  Danny lifted his bottle in a sardonic toast. Another shiver walked down his spine. “The mysterious Daniel Stirling.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Your father, I presume?”

  Chase intruded with a snort. “Oh, no. His dad’s been gone for, what?” He glanced at Mark. “Years.”

  Mark nodded. “Yeah. My dad was Daniel Junior. He passed when I was seven. The old man, our grandfather, is—was—Daniel Senior.”

  Danny looked down. “I’m really sorry for your loss,” he said, because it seemed Mark had cared about these men, and he kind of liked Mark, even though he was coolly reserved. Then again, who wouldn’t be in a situation like this?

  “Thanks.” Mark folded his hands and studied Danny’s face some more. He glanced at Chase and shook his head. “I’m surprised it took you so long to figure out who he was.”

  “Not like we didn’t try,” Chase said. “No one caught on.”

  Danny cleared his throat. “Caught on to what?”

  Mark grunted. “Considering he was named in the will and all.”

  “How would I know who was named in the will?” Chase bleated. “It’s not like Bill ever lets any juicy tidbits slip.” He turned to Danny. “You’re named in the will,” he said.

  “I know.”

  “I didn’t know!” For some reason, Chase sounded offended. As though he expected to be notified of everything.

  Mark patted his buddy on the shoulder. “Bill is notoriously tight-lipped, as he should be. But we knew. The family knew. We knew he might be coming. We just didn’t know this...” He waved his hand in Danny’s direction, his face in particular.

  Which was annoying. In fact, this whole so-called conversation was annoying. “Do you mind telling me what you’re talking about?” He didn’t mean to snap, but his irritation was mounting.

  “The will, of course,” Mark said.

  “Yeah.” Danny pinned him with a sharp gaze. “The will. Why would Daniel Stirling leave me anything? I never even met the guy.”

  “That is the question that’s been raging on the ridge.” Chase’s smug tone made Danny grind his teeth. “See, everyone in town expected that the four Stirling grandchildren would be the only ones mentioned in the will. With the exception of Dorthea, of course.”

  Danny frowned. “Dorthea?”

  “Daniel Senior’s wife,” Chase said. “The butterscotch fan. Remember?”

  Mark nodded. “Our grandmother. You can imagine everyone’s confusion when a stranger was mentioned in the will, too. One Daniel Diem.”

  “That would be me.”

  “It certainly would.” Mark’s gaze narrowed. “Naturally, we were all curious.”

  “I can imagine that would be...peculiar.”

  Mark leaned back in his seat. “But now that you’re here, the reason is pretty damn clear.”

  That shiver returned, crawling across Danny’s nape like a spider. “What is? What’s pretty damn clear?” For some reason, his heart thudded. His mouth went dry.

  Mark crossed his arms and fixed his gaze on Danny. “You, my friend, are the spitting image of my dad. It’s pretty obvious. You are a Stirling. Through and through.”

  Danny gaped at him. Sure, he’d expected that Daniel Stirling might have been his long-lost and barely missed relative, but he’d never imagined that the package would come with a...sibling.

  “So you’re telling me you’re my half brother?” And, yes, he could see the resemblance, now that he looked for it. The eyes. The nose. Maybe the mouth. Definitely the dent on the chin. Danny had always hated that dent.

  “Actually, you have three half brothers. And a half sister.”

  Danny swallowed heavily. As a kid, huddled in a grimy apartment, waiting for his mom to come home at night—if she did—he’d often wished he’d had a brother or sister. Someone to make him feel less alone in the world. He’d never dreamed it could ever happen.

  And now he wasn’t sure he wanted it. Wanted them.

  Or to be more specific, that they wanted him.

  Obviously, they would be resentful of his presence, of his place in the will. No matter what happened here, he was and always would be the bastard child of Daniel Stirling.

  Maybe he should have stayed in Vegas after all.

  Chapter Three

  Danny had no idea what to say to Mark, so he was relieved when, after a short, awkward conversation, his, ahem, brother, excused himself with a gruff “see you tomorrow,” and left.

  Chase chuckled as he watched Mark hightail it out the door of the establishment. “I know where he’s going.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Straight home to tell the others. They’re going to be stunned.”

  Danny stared at Chase for a moment, then snorted a laugh. “You think so?”

  “Well, we’ll see.” Chase winked. “This is the biggest news that’s hit town in a long while.”

  Great. “Do you, ah, mind keeping a lid on it for a while? Just a day or two, while I get my bearings?”

  Good Lord. Danny had never seen such a melodramatic pout on a grown man. But Chase nodded. “Sure thing. I’ll hold off sharing the news until tomorrow.”

  Well, that was something. “Thanks.”

  “I’ll leave you to your dinner, then,” he said and then he plodded back to the bar. Poor guy.
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  As Danny turned back to his plate, his focus shifted to the revelations he’d just encountered. He’d just met his brother. Well, half brother. Soon he would meet more of them. And a sister. That in itself was a lot. But he’d also learned that his father was dead. Had been dead for years, apparently. The man hadn’t wanted anything to do with him. So why did Danny feel his loss so intensely?

  He pushed all thoughts of his father from his mind and focused on what was left of his burger and fries. Naturally, his thoughts returned to Lizzie. They always did. He was wadding up his napkin and about to finish his beer and leave when a sound caught his attention. A laugh. A familiar laugh.

  Heat walked through him. Without a thought, his head turned and he peered into the shadows beyond the bar. His gaze landed on a woman. He wasn’t sure what it was that made the hairs on his nape prickle—the flick of her auburn hair or the movement of her body—but his lungs seized. His heart thudded.

  It took an effort, but he forced himself to be calm. It couldn’t be her.

  Not here.

  Not now.

  From across the large room he could see that this woman was curvier than Lizzie had been. Her hair was longer. And the Lizzie he’d known wouldn’t have been caught dead in a town like Butterscotch Ridge.

  No. It couldn’t be her. His imagination was just playing tricks. This was just a remnant of hope that refused to die.

  He just missed her too much, he supposed. He missed everything about her. Her smile, her laugh, the warmth of her skin. And her scent. He so missed her scent. That was a strange thing to miss about a person, wasn’t it? The way they smelled? But he couldn’t evict the memory of the light wispy fragrance, so earthy, delicious and rare, that was so essentially Lizzie. God, he missed her. Even now, five years later, he could hardly look at another woman.

  In fact, this female was the first such creature he’d even noticed—beyond the fact that they took up space in his universe.

  But she wasn’t Lizzie. She couldn’t be, and to entertain any hope to that end would only lead to a disappointment he didn’t think he could bear.