Taken

by Dee Henderson

  The man came down the steps and toward the drive, moving slowly but purposefully.

  “Shannon.” Her father said her name with such longing. He stopped a few feet away, opened his arms in invitation, and she chose to step into his embrace. “I’m so glad you’re home,” he said, his voice low but clear, even to Matthew. “I love you, Shannon. I’m sorry for the delay in saying those words.” The man leaned back to look into Shannon’s face. “The light went out of my world when you disappeared. I’m truly sorry for not being there the day you came home, for causing any question in your heart about how much I love you, that I wanted to say those words to you.”

  “It’s okay, Pop,” Shannon whispered, resting her head against his shoulder, her hands coming up his back to hold him close.

  “It’s not okay, but thank you for being kind to your old man. I needed to talk to you before we go inside, before you see your mom. I know who your birth father is, and that’s why the hesitation happened, honey—it for sure had nothing to do with you. He’s a pretty good man actually, and I got fearful I’d lose you to him. I’ll face the truth and deal with it; I just want you to know you’re always going to be my girl, my Shannon. I want you in my life very, very much.”

  “You won’t lose me,” she said, leaning back to look into his eyes. “You and Mom . . . ?”

  “We love you and Jeffery. We love our granddaughter. We’ve come to a peace of sorts about the rest of this. But it would have distressed her to hear what I just told you. She doesn’t realize I know.”

  “I won’t tell her,” Shannon promised. “I’ll know who he is one day soon—not from you or Mom. I’ll get the name from someone else, because it’s necessary. But you’re the only father I have ever known. I don’t want us to change. I need you, Dad. I love you too.”

  “I’m here—not going anywhere, Shannon.”

  She hugged him and didn’t let go for a long time. “Thank you,” she replied in a tear-filled whisper. She stepped back, wiped at her eyes, tried to smile. “How do you like being a grandfather?”

  The man beamed. “Ashley is a treasure. Come and meet her.”

  Matthew gave Shannon a smile when she glanced back at him. They would smooth out the relationship with time, he thought. His next big concern now was her mother.

  He followed Shannon and her father as they entered the house and turned toward the living room. Rather than be part of the introductions, Matthew chose to remain near the doorway and simply watch events unfold. Jeffery’s wife joined him. “Good evening, Cindy,” he said softly, and she nodded, smiled.

  Shannon markedly hesitated. “Hello, Mom.”

  The woman on the couch with her granddaughter on her lap had been showing the little girl the necklace she was wearing. She looked up with tears flooding her eyes, didn’t try to respond. Shannon walked over and sat beside her. “How do you like being a grandmother, Mom?”

  “It’s . . . a joy.” She reached out a shaky arm to encircle Shannon’s shoulders. “Welcome home, baby.”

  Shannon buried her face in her mom’s shoulder, hugged her tight.

  Her mother was trying desperately not to cry. “Have you met your niece?”

  “Only seen her asleep.”

  Her mom struggled to find her voice. “Ashley, this is Shannon. She’s your daddy’s sister, your aunt.”

  The child looked back and forth between the two women. “Hi,” she said with a question in her voice, no doubt wondering about the tears.

  “Hi back,” Shannon said with a wobbly smile. She held out the picture book she’d brought with her. “I hear you love to read.”

  “Kittens!” Ashley hugged the book. “I love kittens.”

  “How many do you have?”

  Ashley held up two fingers. “Two.” She scrambled off her grandmother’s lap, reached for Shannon’s hand. “Come and see.”

  Shannon smiled at her mother, bent to kiss her cheek. “Back soon,” she said, and let Ashley lead her toward the kitchen.

  Matthew watched the exchange, as did her father and brother. The ice had been broken.

  Jeffery stepped into the pause. “Anyone like a cold drink? Mom, can I get you something?”

  “More tea, Jeffery.”

  Cindy moved to sit in the chair next to her mother-in-law, bringing a Kleenex box with her.

  Jeffery paused beside Matthew before he left the room to quietly ask, “It went okay with Dad?”

  “They’ll be fine,” Matthew replied. “But end this in an hour as planned, I think. She’s hurting—they all are.”

  Jeffery nodded. “It’s already planned that I’ll take Mom home. Dad doesn’t live far.”

  “Shannon has some news she’ll probably want to share in private with you later,” Matthew told him. “She’s selling a large collection of photographs she took over the last eleven years.”

  “Thanks for that heads-up,” Jeffery said, surprised. “Sounds interesting,” he added. “Ashley and the kittens worked perfectly as the first diversion, but I could use something else to get Shannon into the kitchen for a few minutes.”

  Shannon returned to the living room with Ashley several minutes later, the child still talking animatedly about the kittens. Shannon returned to her place on the sofa, taking a seat between her mother and father. Matthew watched as she carefully directed a question to one, then the other, occasionally touching an arm or hand on each parent. She brought up topics that would bring a smile or a chuckle, doing her best to reconnect. It looked like her parents were taking their cues from her, responding to queries about friends and family but asking none of their own. Cindy stepped in to fill any silence, mostly offering stories about Ashley for Shannon’s benefit, with Ashley herself filling in most of the details to the amusement of everyone in the room.

  “Is the lack of questions something I should thank you for?” Matthew asked Jeffery under his breath as the man came around with a tray of drinks. The evening was very similar to the first meeting between Shannon and Jeffery, though in this instance Shannon was asking the questions, listening to their answers, but saying very little about her years away.

  Jeffery shook his head. “Not my doing. I suspect they simply don’t know what to ask.” He motioned with his head back to the kitchen, and the two men excused themselves.

  “I’ve told them,” Jeffery continued, putting the tray down, “that many of the people responsible for abducting Shannon are dead, that the photos the police recently released of others being sought are related to what Shannon has told authorities. I think for Shannon’s sake they want her to be able to talk about it or not as she wishes.”

  Matthew nodded. He’d been watching Shannon’s mother, overjoyed her daughter was home and wanting contact—a hand reaching out to touch her, a shared look, a smile. Her attention didn’t waver from her daughter. But the woman was noticeably frail. Whatever had gone on in this family eleven years ago, Matthew knew he did not have the full truth. But the fact the woman loved her daughter was there in every bit of body language between them.

  The two men returned to the living room, Jeffery continuing around with the drink tray. He must have thought it best not to get involved in the conversation this evening, to leave Shannon and her parents focused on each other, for Jeffery would step away to refill drinks, take his daughter for a snack, answer the phone when it rang. His capable wife did the smoothing out of the conversation when Shannon and her parents needed a bridge.

  Matthew watched Shannon more closely when he realized her hand was trembling as she lifted her drink. “Jeffery, we need to end this early,” he murmured the next time her brother returned. “That look on Shannon’s face, I’ve seen it before—it’s a practiced calm that is far from real.”

  Jeffery shot his sister a quick glance, gave a nod. It wasn’t but a moment later before he moved into the room with a purposeful stride and a warm smile and brought the evening to a close. “Shannon, it’s been a wonderful evening. I’ve got something for you before you leave that we
all thought you might enjoy, sort of a family picture summary of the last decade. But it’s rather unwieldy, so I’ve got it in my office. Why don’t we let Ashley hug her grandparents before she’s off to bed, and you and I will go figure out if you want to take the album with you tonight or pick it up another day. Mom, I’ll take you home in, say, twenty minutes? I know Dad wanted a brief word with you before we all say good-night.”

  Shannon was turning to hug her mom, then her dad, even as Jeffery finished speaking. “I’ll call you,” Shannon told them both, wiping away more tears. “It was good to see you tonight.” She made a point of dropping down to Ashley’s level. “Can I have a hug too?”

  The girl gave her a big one. “Night, Aunt Shannon.” She went to her mother, who whispered something in her ear. “And thanks for the book!” she exclaimed, hurrying back to pick it up from the table.

  “You’re very welcome, sweetheart,” Shannon replied with a smile.

  “Thanks, Jeffery,” Shannon murmured as she joined him. “What did you want to show me?”

  Her brother slid his arm around her waist and steered her toward the office. “The family reunions you missed generated a lot of photos,” Matthew heard him say as they disappeared.

  It had been an exhausting night for Shannon, Matthew knew, and he didn’t have to ask how she was doing. He settled on the couch beside her, took pity and leaned over to slip off the high heels she’d chosen to wear with her dress. Vanity came with a price. She quietly smiled her thanks, her eyes half closed. “It’s over and done, one of the last big questions on your plate,” he said, satisfied with the evening and hoping she was too.

  “Dad was . . . remarkably normal, just like I remember him. Mom has aged so much I barely recognized her.”

  “She’s lived with a lot of sorrow and questions while you were gone,” he said. “How about an old movie and some popcorn to end the night?”

  “I should just turn in.”

  “Not yet,” he counseled, seeing something in her that concerned him. “Why don’t you go change, get comfortable. I’ll let you run the remote. I’m not tired yet, and I’d like some company,” he said, making it about him rather than her so she’d be more inclined to agree.

  She turned her head to study him. “You’re being nice again.”

  “I happen to be a nice guy,” he joked.

  She smiled, sat forward, and picked up her shoes. “I’ll go change,” she agreed, reaching over to pat his arm. “Try more butter and less salt on the popcorn this time.”

  They spent a quiet hour sharing the popcorn and the couch, watching a movie, no conversation needed. She curled up beside him, and he found himself wishing he could move the clock forward several years when she’d likely be recovered enough that he could ask her out. He’d like more evenings like this in the future. He felt her stir.

  “This is becoming a pattern,” she said, not moving away.

  “One I rather enjoy,” he admitted.

  The movie wasn’t particularly sad, but Shannon was. He wasn’t surprised when he saw she was silently crying. He passed her another tissue and refilled her soda from the two-liter bottle he’d brought in. “Next movie we’re going to have to expand beyond popcorn,” he said lightly. “There’s something to be said for chips and salsa too.” He wasn’t ignoring the tears but choosing not to pursue the cause at the moment. Shannon’s sadness wasn’t something he had to rush to fix, just be present to share so she wasn’t alone.

  She finally wiped her eyes one last time. “I’m going to miss this place. It’s a comfortable home,” she said.

  “Hmm.” He took the tangent because it was something other than talking about her situation. “Can you imagine what the owner’s job must be like, shuttling between other diplomats who have spent a lifetime cloaking their real agenda behind polite words?”

  “They need him, and both sides know it. Peacemakers are a rare breed of people . . . like you, Matthew.” She half smiled. “But I’m glad diplomacy doesn’t happen all that quickly. His home is providing me a nice stretch of that peace.”

  “Your next home will be your own, and you’ll turn it into something this peaceful,” he predicted.

  “A topic for another day,” she decided. “I’m not ready to make the ‘where’ decision yet. But it’s weird to think about choosing from virtually the entire United States. At least I’ve got financial flexibility now—if I want to have an apartment somewhere I can afford it.” They watched the movie until the next commercial. She tilted her head to look at him. “If they arrest George on Sunday night, I’m toying with possibly standing with my brother Monday at the press conference.”

  He carefully set aside his glass, looked down at her. “Interesting.”

  “Ah. The diplomatic answer. You don’t like the idea?”

  “I think it’s . . . got a certain unexpected wow factor to it.”

  “I am who I am. A survivor. If I don’t change my name, people will find me. I like my name, the family history that goes with it. So it seems better to face up to that press interest rather than try to sneak around it. Give the press what they want—photos of me—then tell them to go away until after the election. This fall I’ll have an exclusive, wide-ranging interview with one network, and the others can use the film in their own formats. I can rewrite that press release to politely say, ‘I’m glad to be back. I’ll talk about it after the election when law enforcement is comfortable with my doing so and not before.’ Jeffery and my parents can point to that press release rather than answer questions.”

  Matthew saw her planning skills flexing to fit new circumstances and had to smile. “You’ve been thinking about this.”

  “I have.” She leaned back against the couch, finished her drink. “Besides, Charlotte pointed out this incredibly lovely dress, and I found the perfect heels. I need somewhere to wear them, and the national press would find it to be a nice visual,” she stated lightly.

  He laughed. When he turned serious again, he offered one observation. “Having your name and photo out there in the public domain means strangers are going to walk up to you with questions and comments and think they know you. Finding that peace you need isn’t going to be as easy.”

  “I like people in small doses. Let’s get the craziness over with so I can go on with my life.” She turned to look at him. “But my going public complicates life for you. You aren’t going to want that press coming anywhere close to Becky once again.”

  Avoiding the press was instinctive with him. But the press had its uses. “I’ve got forty-eight hours to think about this, so let me mull over the idea.”

  “This only happens if George is arrested tomorrow night.”

  “I’m thinking that happens. Shannon, don’t worry about me and Becky. This is the kind of decision you need to make based on what’s best for you. Becky and I will be fine.”

  Shannon nodded. “It makes sense, coming forward now. I want to keep my name. I want to walk into my brother’s office when he’s governor and not have people surprised to see me. I want to have a gallery show one day with the invitation saying: Shannon Bliss, photographer. I want to be known for who I am. Shannon Bliss. Tough survivor. Not half bad in the looks department. Knows how to show off a great pair of high heels.”

  He laughed, and she joined in. He held out his hand. “Hello there, Shannon Bliss,” he said, thinking she could have gone ahead and described herself as beautiful. “I’m glad you did your research and found me.”

  She slid her hand into his, sealing the greeting. “Thank you, Matthew. For all you’ve done to get me to this place.”

  “You’re very welcome.”

  “This is turning out to be a nice wrap-up for the evening,” she said. “I need some sleep, and since I promised no eleven p.m. moment for you to regret, I’m turning in now. I’ll see you in the morning, Matthew.”

  “You will,” he promised, understanding what she was feeling. “Good night, Shannon.”

  He watched her head down
the hall, leaned his head against the couch. Two more days, get past the press conference, then he’d let himself think about the emotions he was feeling tonight. She was a lovely woman, brave and strong, and he was enjoying walking this journey with her. She needed him right now, and he was a better man when needed. What would come later for the two of them would have to wait for time to unfold. He wisely turned off the television and took himself off to bed.

  30

  Matthew swatted one of the few bugs that had flown by and landed on him this sunny Sunday afternoon. “Shannon’s looking more relaxed,” Jeffery remarked as they watched Ashley run across the backyard, showing off her skills on a Slip ’N Slide chute, screaming with delight when she landed in the water pooled at the end. Shannon was standing with Cindy in the shade of a tree, also watching the fun. Matthew was intrigued to see she had her camera out. She hadn’t lifted it to take a picture yet, but she had come prepared. Ashley, along with her kittens, would be immortalized before the afternoon was over, he was sure.

  Matthew didn’t know how much he should say to Jeffery, but he mentally reversed their positions and thought about what he would want to know. He decided to be more expansive than he might under different circumstances. “Shannon cried last night for the good part of an hour, seemed to unwind most of her knotted emotions,” he said to Jeffery. “How are your parents doing?”

  “Dad called, mostly to say thanks for arranging the evening, which told me he wanted to say something else and had changed his mind. Mom didn’t say much when I drove her home. She’s . . . pretty subdued. I think she knows it’s only a matter of time before Shannon asks who her birth father is.”

  “She won’t ask her mother,” Matthew replied. “My firm is already answering that question for her.”

  Jeffery shot him a quick look. “Have an answer?”

  “I can tell you who is not her father,” Matthew said. “But, yes, I think we know. DNA is running now to confirm the suspicion. Your father mentioned to Shannon last night before they went inside that he knows who her father is, thinks he’s a pretty good guy. So I have a hunch the name we’re looking at now is the right one.”