by Kim Pritekel
Shaking herself out of her daydreams, Meredith took the phone into her hand again, quickly dialing the number of Jennifer's cell phone. Once the girl started driving, she and Walter felt it was a good idea for her to have one, in case her car broke down or something equally disastrous happened. It rang three times, Meredith about to give up when Jennifer's breathless voice finally answered.
"Hello?"
"Jennifer?"
"Yeah, grandma? Sorry, I was trying on a pair of jeans. What's up?"
"Honey, I need you to get Conrad, and I need you two home pronto."
"What's the matter? Are you okay, Grams? You sound like you've been crying. Is Grandpa okay?"
"We're fine, honey. Just come home. Now."
"Uh, okay. We'll be home in fifteen minutes."
Jennifer Dupree flipped her phone shut, brows drawn. She hoped everything was okay. Hurrying into her shorts, she tugged her shoes on, untied, then went in search of her little brother, who of course, was in the mall's arcade.
"Con, come on, we have to go."
"No. I'm in the middle of a game.," he muttered, never taking his eyes off the screen as he continued to kill the bad guy.
"Now, Conrad. Grandma wants us home right now. Come on.'
"Just let me finish-"
"Conrad Michael Dupree! Let's go!" She grabbed the precocious pre-teen by the back of his shirt and drug him away from the game.
Alan Dupree sighed heavily into the phone. "Grandma, I have to work. I can't just leave for some family meeting."
"Alan I really need you to come. I'll talk to your damn boss if you need me, to."
The young man grinned. "Grandma, it's not like school where a note from my mother will do it. I can't just walk out on this job. I shouldn't even be on the phone-"
"Your father's alive."
Alan felt his body stiffen, words of protest stuck in his throat. "What?"
"They've found him. I didn't want to tell you until all three of you were together. You need to come home, Alan."
"Give me ten minutes."
"Conrad! You heathen!" Jennifer yelled, dropping to her haunches to pick up the contents of the shopping bag. Her little demon brother had run by her so fast, he'd knocked the package right out of her hand. Gathering everything up, Jennifer couldn't help but be a little bit nervous. Had one of them done something wrong? Was everything truly okay, or had her grandmother just said it was so as not to worry the girl until she could get them safely home? Millions of possibilities raced through her mind, never once the truth crossing her thoughts.
"Grandma?" she called out, heading toward the stairs. She stopped cold when she saw Alan standing in the doorway to the kitchen, his eyes red-rimmed, yet smiling. "Hey," she said, voice uncertain. They rarely saw their older brother now, out on his own and having his own life.
"Hey, sis," he said softly, then walked over to her, taking her shopping bags from her hands. "Wouldn't want you to drop these." His grin was infectious, though just proved to confuse the girl even more. What was going on?
"Hello, my little angel."
Jennifer's head snapped up at the voice, deep, as well as the endearment she'd known her whole life, well, up until one year, two months and a day ago. Her breath caught at who stood in the kitchen doorway, hair long and shaggy, a neatly trimmed beard covering his handsome face, making him look even more rugged than usual.
"Daddy," she breathed, still confused, but it was overtaken by a relief and happiness she'd never known. His arms opened, and she ran to him, only to stop a foot away, looking him over, inhaling: he had the same scent as her father, looked like her father, yet there was no way it could be her father.
"I don't understand," she whispered.
"I'm alive," he said, looking into her eyes, raising a hand to gently brush a tear off her cheek, then some hair from her forehead. "I've come home, Jenny,"
With a loud sob, the girl threw herself at her father, squeezing her eyes tightly shut as she felt him consumer her slight body with his much larger one.
"My little angel," he cooed, cupping the back of her head as it rested against his chest. "I missed you so much."
Jennifer couldn't speak, couldn't think, could only feel. She felt like a life, that had become dark the day her parents died, had suddenly grown bright, the sun burning away all the inky black from her heart and mind. Finally able to breathe again, she gently pulled away, looking up into his gentle face. "How did this happen? Where's mom?"
Michael felt his heart crumble, but knew he had to stay strong. For them. "I escaped the wreckage, honey, managed to get to an island. Your mom," he swallowed, gently brushing the girl's hair behind her ears. "she didn't' make it. I tried." The last words shaky as his emotions balanced precariously on a tempest edge.
Jennifer's eyes filled again, allowing herself to be swallowed in her Daddy's arms.
Michael had never felt so close to Heaven as he did holding is daughter. It had been something watching his oldest, Alan fall apart at the sight of him, but Jennifer, his Jenny Angel, who looked so much like her mother, nearly made him lose it altogether. The big man opened his eyes and saw his third child standing at the foot of the stairs, looking on in disbelief, his face pale, mouth hanging open.
"Come here, son," Michael said softly, holding out an arm to the boy. He watched in horror as Conrad shook his head slowly, then ran out the front door.
* * *
Hannah could feel her palms sweating, heart pounding and her ears burning. She was walking through the airport, on her way to the gate for private planes. She had been surprised and overcome with a sense of relief when Tiffany had called her name after she'd hung up with Denny. Walking into the living room, the researcher had found what little she had at the redhead's house stacked neatly by the door on the end table.
A simple explanation had followed. Tiffany had known it was a possibility that Hannah could never truly give her her heart, and now with Denny's return, that fact was undisputable. She was letting Hannah go, and asking for the same in return. It had been a sad parting, but one Hannah was grateful for. She knew she had a lot to think about, and even more to deal with once her partner returned to her.
Hurrying past a small gathering of security guards, Hannah read the overhead sign, finding her terminal and rushing to the door.
Denny took a deep breath, running a hand through her hair. She was glad to be on solid ground once more, hating flying now, as well as just wanting to get settled somewhere finally. It felt strange glancing over at the airport, thinking back to her life the last time she'd seen BUF. So much had changed. She had changed.
Unbuckling herself, she saw Keller's wide smile, a spotlight aimed right at her. Denny tried to return it, but nerves and uncertainty weakened it.
"Everything will be okay," the pilot said, almost as though reading her thoughts. She leaned over and gave the brunette a tight hug. "I wish you the best of luck, Denny. If you need anything, anything at all, you give us a call, ’kay?"
Denny nodded, pulling away. "Have a safe flight back." Keller nodded as Denny made her way out of the Cessna, one of the tarmac workers holding his hand up to aid her. She smiled her gratitude, then took in lungfulls of air, filling her chest with the smells of home.
Hannah paced, her hands wringing together in front of her before wiping them on the sides of her denim-clad thighs. She froze when she saw the small white and blue plane taxi in.
"Here we go."
Denny climbed the steps, hand running along the smooth, cool metal of the railing, then pulled open the door. The sterile, manufactured air of the airport terminal met her nose, her eyes searching. They froze on their target.
Hannah felt her breath catch, melting all over again in the blue of the brunette's eyes. They had been the first thing she'd noticed about her almost ten years ago, fixing that damn machine, which never seemed to work right.
Denny's eyes fell closed as she wrapped her arms around Hannah, feeling her own body engulfed in return. N
othing was said, no tears, just a seemingly endless embrace of relief and reconnection. Nearly ten minutes later, Denny pulled back, bringing up a hand to rest on the side of Hannah's head.
"You cut your hair," she commented, her voice soft. The researcher nodded, running a nervous hand through the pixie cut.
"Yeah. It was time."
"It's cute."
"You're so thin, Denny," Hannah whispered, taking a step back to take in all of her partner, dressed in a pair of jeans, which were sagging off her hips, and a plain white tee shirt.
"Yeah. Borrowed," Denny said, tugging at the hem.
"Let's go home." Hannah leaned forward, cupping the brunette's face and placing a gentle kiss on her chapped lips. "Here," she said against them, holding up a yellow tube of Burt's Bees chapstick. Denny chuckled, taking it and applying as they walked back through the airport.
"What?" the brunette asked, glancing over to meet Hannah's probing gaze.
"Nothing," the researcher shook her head, a soft smile on her lips. "I just can't believe you're here." She stopped their progress with a hand to Denny's arm, moving them out of the way of rushing travelers, luggage in tow.
Pulling Denny into another hug, she buried her nose in the long hair. Her mind raced, trying to think of how to tell the brunette about DiRisio's. Though she felt she had done nothing wrong, she felt her guilt beginning to gnaw at her stomach, making her feel nauseous. DiRisio's had been Denny's dream. Hannah had thought it as dead as its owner. It had upset Hannah immensely when the last day of business, Denny's old boss and mentor, Joni Sanchez, had come in, calling Hannah just about every name under the sun but murder, for killing Denny's dream.
"I need to talk to you about something," she said into Denny's ear, the breath of warm air making the brunette shiver.
"What?" Denny tried to pull away, but was kept close.
"Not here. Later."
Denny nodded, her eyes closing once more as she tried to concentrate on being happy she was home. She felt nervous, as though she were entering a new world, one that was unfamiliar and strange. Finally she felt Hannah pull away and take her by the hand, leading them toward the parking garage.
* * *
Pam had never felt so out of place in her life. Born and raised in New York, spending much of it in Queens and the Bronx, Montana couldn't have been any more alien to her than if Duke had flown her to the moon. The wide, open spaces, endless wilderness and clear, blue skies, truly breathtaking.
For Pam to say she had been stunned to find out where Tracy had started her and Luke's new life would be the understatement of the century. She had no idea what possessed the girl to come so far west. Either way, she had, and Pam was going to do her level best to make it work with her daughter and grandson. She'd promised her new family she would.
Duke knew a woman at the tiny airport they'd landed at who had offered to drive her home, not wanting to bother Tracy with that task. After all, she had Luke to watch after.
The small farmhouse loomed just ahead, a tall, narrow two-story, painted white with dark blue trim. It was charming, Pam had to admit. She could feel her stomach responding to the building nerves, their parting not good so long ago. It just seemed mother and daughter couldn't manage to get on the same page, no matter how hard they tried. That had saddened Pam to no end. When Tracy's father, and Pam's first husband, had found out they were having a child, they had been thrilled. Theirs had been a marriage of seven, barren years, both blaming the other for their lack of conception. Then like magic, one morning Pam had gotten sick, running from the bed at breakneck speed, nearly trampling over their Pug, Ralphie, in her efforts to get to the toilet on time. Sure enough. Tests had proven positive, and plans for a new life had begun.
It was evident pretty quick that Tracy was a miracle baby, and Pam would not be having anymore. She'd been so excited when the doctor pronounced a girl had just entered the world, her cries filling the delivery room and her mother's heart. When Tracy had turned three, they began to realize that something was wrong, and the toddler couldn't hear. It had been a devastating blow, but one they'd dealt with as best they could, even as Pam and Jack's marriage fell apart. The young mother and girl who lived in a world of silence never saw eye to eye. Tracy would move in with her father every couple years or so, until she realized she hated his newest flavor of the month, then would move back in with her mother, only to dislike her newest step-father. When the girl had been sent away to school after high school graduation, it had been the best thing for all involved.
Then Luke came.
Pam stared out the window of the bucket of bolts with Ford stamped on the grill. The truck pulled to a stop in front of the house, the front door opening, and curious eyes peering out. Pam nearly swallowed her tongue when she saw how big Luke had grown. His mother stepped up behind him, her hands resting on narrow shoulders. The boy leaned slightly back into Tracy's comforting body, still not sure about this grandmother person that had arrived.
Tracy squeezed one shoulder, then stepped out from behind him, trying to decide exactly which emotion to settle on first. She felt relief to see her mother like nothing she'd ever felt before, but at the same time, she felt a sense of foreboding wash over her. What would this bring or mean to her and Luke's new life?
Pam quietly thanked Amanda Brody, who smiled acknowledgment, then climbed down from the large truck, her eyes locked on her daughter as Tracy carefully made her way down the few stairs that led up to the porch. Tracy stopped about mid-step, then a keening, almost mewling sound escaped her throat, and she raced the rest of the way, the little girl inside her winning out on the bitter adult, allowing herself to take comfort from her mother's arms and safe return.
Though she knew the girl couldn't hear her, Pam couldn't help but whisper her daughter's name, like a sacred word, against soft, chestnut hair, inhaling the fragrance and essence of her little girl. Feeling eyes on her, Pam looked down, seeing her grandson standing next to them, his big, curious, yet watchful eyes, on mother and daughter.
Sniffling back her relief, the veterinarian swiped a hand across her face, then knelt down, looking up into Luke's handsome face.
"Hello, Luke," she said, her voice soft, almost dreamy. "I've missed you, sweetheart." She took the boy's stiff body in her arms, a pang of hurt and regret shooting through her heart. Yes, she had a lot to make up for.
* * *
"I don't understand," Michael whispered, so as not to wake up Jennifer, who was curled up in his lap. He brushed his fingers through her hair absently with one hand while sipping from the cold can of Miller Walter had brought to him. Now, his father-in-law sat across from him on the loveseat, listening to the sounds of a Texas night.
"Don't know. The boy is just filled with so much anger, I don't think he knows what to do with himself no more. Meredith and I have tried everything, counselin', all of it. Nothing is helping."
The mechanic sighed, staring out into the blackness beyond the living room windows. His chest ached, heart ripped out of its hiding place. Conrad had run from the house, and was yet to be found yet. Alan was out looking for him, hoping to knock some sense into the stubborn boy.
"It's been a hard time, Mike. Don't let no body tell you different. These kids have suffered heaps."
"I know." Michael leaned down and kissed the top of his daughter's head. He couldn't remember the last time he'd done that. "I can't thank y'all enough for what you've done, Walter. These kids needed you, and y'all were here for them. Thank you."
Walter nodded, sipping from his own beer. He wasn't comfortable with all the emotional mumbo jumbo. He listened to the sounds of his wife cleaning up the dinner dishes. Normally Jennifer would help out, but tonight she wasn't letting her Daddy out of her sight, so Meredith left her to it.
"Did she suffer?" Walter finally asked, clearing his throat to cover the hitch in his voice.
Michael studied the older, hardened man for a moment, then sighed. "No. She went in her sleep. Lost too much blood."
Michael could feel his throat constrict with the conversation. He hadn't had to think or talk about Melissa in over a year, and it was like losing her all over again.
"Good."
"Look, Walter, Mel-"
"No," the older man stood, waving off Michael's words. "it's late. Gotta get me some sleep." He hurried from the room, his heavy boots thudding against the wood of the stairs, followed by a distant slam of a door.
"Everything okay?" Meredith asked, drying her hands on a dishtowel.
Michael nodded, resting his cheek against Jennifer's head. "Yeah. It's late. I'm gonna get this one to bed." Michael looked down at his daughter's face, seeing she was still deep asleep. Gathering her to his chest, he rose to his feet, holding her safe, and making his way up the same stairs the girl's grandfather had just scurried up.
"Daddy?" the teenager mumbled in her sleep, her voice thick and groggy.
"I'm here, darlin'. Sleep, Angel." He gently laid her on the bed, pulling the covers down around her, then tucking her in. With a small kiss to her forehead, the mechanic turned out the bedside lamp, but couldn't leave. He stood next to her bed, staring down into the face of a woman, remembering the little girl he'd left behind. Never in his life had he felt so infused with love and a need to protect another human being. This little girl was the product of his Melissa and himself, all he had left of her.
Reaching out, he brushed a few strands of hair out of her sleeping face, so easily able to see Mel, just a bit older, when he'd first seen her. Jennifer would be a spitting image of her, just as beautiful, and filled with just as much fire. He smiled at that thought, sending out a silent word of warning to all those boys who thought they could tame her. She'd slowly and quietly tame them; just like her Momma.
Meredith was cleaning up the beer cans when she heard Michael enter the room. "Out cold," he said, voice still quiet with the hush of night. "Let me help you." He took the cans from the older woman, missing the stunned expression on her face as he headed into the kitchen to dump out the undrunk amber liquid into the sink, then squished the cans in his large fist.
