The Return of Connor Mansfield

by Beth Cornelison

  “Yes!” Darby nodded her agreement. “Let me tell Hunter the truth. He won’t believe that anyone but Connor is Savannah’s father, and he reads me too well for me to lie about any of this.”

  In the front seat, Raleigh groaned.

  Jones rubbed his face with his hand. “You understand that the more people who know who Sam is, the more risk there is of the wrong people finding out?”

  Raleigh pulled to a stop once more at the hospital entrance and turned toward the backseat. “Do I need to circle the block again?”

  “Hunter won’t talk.” Connor narrowed a certain gaze on Jones. “We can trust him.”

  Jones and Raleigh exchanged a long dark look, as if communicating telepathically.

  Darby twisted her hands in her lap, her heart still racing from adrenaline and her brain muddled with the surrealism of the past half hour. Finally, Raleigh sighed and turned back to the front window, while muttering under his breath about hell in a hand basket.

  “Okay.” Jones flipped up his palms. His expression said he was far from happy about acquiescing. “But tell Hunter as little as possible until we’ve had a chance to debrief him and impress upon him the urgency of his silence.”

  Darby gave a jerky nod and opened the car door. “I understand.”

  As she slid out of the backseat, Connor caught her arm. “Darby.” She faced him, waiting for him to continue. Emotions played over his face, clearly telling her how conflicted he was, deciding what he wanted to say, what he could say. As if he were torn between what was in his heart and the masquerade he was playing.

  The longer he hesitated, the more irritated she grew. The Connor she knew had never hedged, never held back from sharing his heart with her. But then, that Connor was dead, wasn’t he? This Connor—or Sam Orlean—had lied about his death, had stayed away for almost five years.

  “See you in about an hour,” he said at last, his frown saying he knew how lame he sounded.

  “Right.” She snatched her arm from his grip, frustrated, hurt and so angry with him she was shaking.

  She hurried back inside the hospital and onto the same elevator car she’d ridden down some forty or so minutes earlier. As the doors closed, she marveled at how the elevator could look the same when her life had changed so completely in such a short time. Connor. Connor was alive!

  The air in her lungs stalled, just as it had when she’d recognized the man with the dye-darkened beard and sunglasses in the parking garage. She braced a hand on the wall of the elevator and bent at the waist to catch her breath.

  “Are you all right, ma’am?” an orderly on the elevator with her asked.

  She peeked up at him and shook her head. “No. Not really.”

  They arrived at her floor, the door sliding open with a ding, and she straightened. Flashing a forced smile to the orderly, she stepped off the elevator, waving the hospital employee away when he made a move to help her. “No, thanks.”

  “Mommy!” Savannah called to her as she ducked back into her hospital room.

  She managed a smile for her daughter and bent to kiss her temple. “Hi, Miss Priss.”

  Hunter spun to face her, his phone at his ear, his expression impatient. “Cheese and rice, Darby!” He waved his cell, thumbing the disconnect button. “Why haven’t you answered your phone? I’ve called you at least ten times!”

  “Because...” She blew out a deep breath and slapped a hand to her empty shoulder where her purse usually hung. “Crud! I left my purse at the doctor’s office.” Raking a hand through her hair, she dropped her shoulders wearily. “Will you stop by there to let me grab it on our way home?”

  He pulled a face. “Uh, yeah. Whatever.” Spreading his hands, he raised his eyebrows and huffed. “Well? What happened? Did you see him?”

  Darby cut a side glance to Savannah, then scowled at Hunter. “Ixnay about Onnorcay.”

  Hunter looked ready to strangle her. “Just give me a yes or no. Was it him?”

  “Did someone die, Mommy?”

  Darby faced Savannah, her pulse stumbling. “No, honey. Why?”

  “You told somebody on the phone that Connuh was dead.” Savannah wrinkled her nose. “Who’s Connuh?”

  “Um...” She fumbled, glancing to Hunter for help. She’d put off telling Savannah about her father until she thought the little girl was old enough to fully understand the concept of death. Then Hunter’s elderly dog had died a few months ago, and she’d had to explain where Bo had gone and why he wouldn’t be back.

  But Connor came back.

  “Connor is...” She rubbed the spot on her forehead where a killer headache was forming.

  “My brother,” Hunter supplied.

  Savannah tipped her head in confusion. “But Uncle Gwant is your bwother.” Savannah had just started speech therapy that spring to help her pronounce her Rs, when they’d been handed the challenge of cancer. Rs would have to wait.

  Hunter grinned. “A guy can have more than one brother. In fact, I know someone who has seven brothers!”

  Savannah’s eyes widened. “That’s a lot of bwothers!” She sank back against her pillow, her face sobering, her tenacious curiosity and keen memory not letting Hunter’s attempt at distraction work. “Did your bwother die like Bo?”

  “Um...” Hunter stalled and looked to Darby. “Did he?”

  “Priss, why don’t you watch TV while I talk to Uncle Hunter for a minute.” She grabbed the front of his shirt and led him into the tiny bathroom out of Savannah’s earshot.

  “What’s going on, Darby?” Hunter asked as she closed the door behind them.

  She wiped sweaty palms on the seat of her pants. “Here’s the deal—and you can’t tell anyone about this...”

  * * *

  While Darby returned to the hospital room to bring Savannah home, Connor and the marshals acquired medical scrubs, a few pieces of medical equipment and a van detailed with Lagniappe Home Health on the side panel. Soon after Darby and Hunter got Savannah home, the faux home health team arrived, and Darby ushered them through her front door. Hiding in plain sight.

  “Connor!” Hunter rushed forward as soon as his brother stepped into the foyer, shock and joy reverberating in his voice. “What—? How—?”

  As ordered, Darby had given Hunter only the barest of information. Connor was alive. He was in hiding with WitSec. He was in disguise and headed to her house to meet Savannah.

  The emotional reunion between the brothers was bittersweet for Darby. Hiding the truth from the rest of Connor’s family gnawed at her. She hated feeling as though she were buying into the lie that hurt and angered her so much, even if she understood Connor’s reasoning for his choice to enter WitSec. And what did she tell Savannah about the man who wanted to meet her?

  Connor exchanged a bear hug with Hunter. “It’s a long messy story. One that, I’m afraid, isn’t over yet.”

  Hunter stepped back, holding his brother at arm’s length. “What do you mean, it’s not over?”

  Connor’s eyes darted back to Darby, and he pulled away from Hunter. “I can explain, but first...”

  Marshals Jones and Raleigh lumbered in carrying an oxygen tank and monitoring equipment, part of their cover as health care workers looking after Savannah.

  Connor introduced Jones and Raleigh to Hunter, then the two marshals moved into the living room with their load of equipment, leaving Connor to his family reunion. Even having spent forty minutes with him in the marshals’ sedan, having had time for the news to sink in, having conveyed the shocking truth to Hunter, Darby was having trouble wrapping her brain around Connor’s resurrection and return. Seeing him in her house again after almost five years seemed odd. Especially since he’d darkened his hair and sported a beard as part of his cover as Sam Orlean.

  Her thoughts were scrambling in too many direc
tions at once to sort them out. Her heart thundered in her chest, and all she could do was stare at the answer to her prayers. As if he felt her attention, Connor turned his head and met her gaze. A tingle of sensation, like receiving a static shock, zipped through her as she stared back at him. She hadn’t forgotten how handsome he was or how her body responded to his rugged good looks, but seeing him again, in the flesh rather than a two-dimensional photo or mistlike memory, was surreal. She felt as if she’d added a sugar high to a caffeine buzz. All her senses were on overdrive, and her emotions were supercharged, tangled and confusing.

  “Darby?” The sound of his voice triggered a cascade of moth-balled memories. Her giddy excitement when he’d asked her for their first date. Nights when he’d held her and crooned her name as they made love. Her horror on that foggy morning more than four and a half years ago when she’d seen the charred skeleton of the hunting camp’s cabin.

  And the voice of a stranger on the phone just days ago. I’m sorry, Dahr-by.

  How could he have abandoned her, deceived her for so many years? Hurt and anger returned with the bite of acid in her gut. She swung at him, reacting before she’d even realized what she was doing. “You left me. Lied to me!”

  Her balled fist smacked his chest with all the effect of a pillow hitting a brick wall. His muscled body was still every bit as taut and toned as she’d remembered. She swung again, the fury for the lies and pain she’d suffered because of his deception and desertion surging in her, and he absorbed the blow as if he knew he deserved it.

  “Darby, stop. What are you doing?” Hunter wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back. “Calm down, okay? You’ll wake Savannah.”

  Another stab of pain slashed through her. Savannah. How many times had she wished Savannah could know her father? And now he was here. To meet his daughter. Yet they couldn’t tell Savannah the truth. It wasn’t fair. How could she draw her daughter into the deceit? And yet, how could she tell her daughter the truth knowing Connor would leave again, return to WitSec with the marshals in a matter of days, hours? Darby knew too well the pain of losing a father, having him blithely walk out of her life.

  Her shoulders shook with sobs as she turned and buried her face in Hunter’s shirt. He folded her into a comforting embrace, muttering soothing reassurances.

  But no words could calm her. No hug could ease her troubled heart.

  Connor was alive, and she had no idea where to start sorting out the tangled web of his lies.

  * * *

  A cold heaviness filled Connor’s chest as he watched Hunter hug Darby, soothing her. His brother had been Darby’s close friend since college. She’d started hanging out at the Mansfield family home during Hunter’s freshman year at Louisiana Tech, and their friendship had never faltered, even when Connor had fallen hard for his brother’s friend and started dating Darby the same summer.

  That Darby would turn to Hunter for comfort during a difficult time was logical. Still, seeing her in his brother’s arms caused a sinking sensation to settle over him. Had the nature of their friendship changed over the years he’d been gone? On the heels of Darby’s hostile reception of him, the possibility that his brother had replaced him in Darby’s affections shot a chilling spear of jealousy through his heart.

  They thought you were dead, he tried to rationalize, yet the argument fell flat, did nothing to ease the swelling ache of betrayal.

  Hunter is a good guy, salt of the earth, the kind of man Darby deserved, his logical mind justified. But he’s your brother. He knows how much you loved her—still love her, his heart countered.

  Connor dragged a hand along his jaw, reeling from the turn of events, stung by Darby’s anger. Acid churned in his gut as he tried to sort out his next move. He had to make Darby listen to him. He had to make her understand his reasons for leaving, for letting the U.S. Marshals fake his death.

  Shoving down the seesawing grief and frustration that ripped through him, Connor drew a deep breath, searching for control over his emotions. “Please, Darby, just give me a chance to explain. I never wanted to hurt you. Leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

  She jerked free of Hunter’s arms and spun to face him, her expression cold. “So you said. But the facts remain. You left. You deceived everyone you loved.”

  He raised his chin and set his jaw. “My family had to believe I was dead in order to convince the Gales—”

  “I’m not interested in hearing any more of your excuses. A lie is a lie. You abandoned all of us. Left us to grieve for you!” She folded her arms over her chest and pressed her lips in a thin line. Anger vibrated from her, but a sadness and vulnerability swam in her green eyes, as well. The hurt and questions reflected in her tearful gaze broke his heart. And gave him a shred of hope. Maybe in time she could forgive him for his choices.

  He spread his hands in appeal. “Please, Darby, give me a chance. For our daughter’s sake.”

  Darby jerked her chin up, fire filling her eyes, her body going rigid. “Don’t you dare use Savannah as a bargain chip! When you left me, you left her, too.”

  He took a step toward Darby. “Because you never told me you were pregnant!”

  “I didn’t know yet!” As soon as the words left her mouth, Darby closed her eyes and huffed a sigh, as if she realized she had no right to hold that argument against him.

  “If I had known about the baby...” he started, but couldn’t finish.

  What would he have done? His life would still have been in danger—and Darby’s, too, by association. He would still have wanted to protect her. His handlers in the Witness Security Program would still have argued that she had to believe he was dead to convince Gale. Her disappearance near the time of his faked death would still have sounded too many alarms with the men who hunted him for revenge.

  Asking her to leave her family, her job, her friends, her life behind to go with him into hiding would have been too great a sacrifice for him to impose on her. Her family was too important to her. Lagniappe was the only home she’d ever known.

  She lifted her eyebrows and tipped her head, inviting him to continue. “If you had known...what? What would you have done differently? Would you have loved me more? Would you have stayed for the sake of the baby?”

  He heaved a weary sigh. “I honestly don’t know.”

  “If I wasn’t enough reason to stay, if somehow you didn’t love me enough, then maybe it’s just as well you left. I don’t want you here just because of our baby.” A tear spilled onto her cheek, and his heart cracked. “I needed more than that from you. I deserve more than that.”

  “It wasn’t like that, Darby. I did love you, but—”

  A shuffling sound in the hall to his right drew his attention, stopping him midsentence.

  A frail-looking girl with only thin wisps of dark hair on her nearly bald head stood in the threshold rubbing her eyes. “Mommy?”

  Connor’s breath hung in his lungs, and his chest contracted. Tears rushed to his eyes as he took a step toward the girl and dropped to his knees. With a trembling hand, he reached for his daughter’s delicate cheek and wheezed, “Savannah.”

  Chapter 5

  Darby froze as Connor knelt before their daughter and stroked her cheek. Seeing the man with whom she’d dreamed of building a future beside the child they’d created together was an image she’d conjured so many times in her mind. And now it was real. But also heartbreaking.

  Though she knew Connor would never hurt Savannah, he was a stranger to her. Connor could easily frighten Savannah if he came on too strong, too fast. Darby’s heart thumped wildly, and she held her breath, watching.

  “Hello, precious girl,” he murmured.

  Savannah wrinkled her nose and tipped her head as she studied her father and the medical scrubs. “Ah you a doctuh?”

  Darby joined Connor
in a crouch beside Savannah. “No, baby, this is...uh—” Daddy. The name stuck in her throat. Even though Connor was here for the sole purpose of meeting his daughter, the idea of telling Savannah who he was, only to rip her father away within days seemed cruel. She met Connor’s golden-eyed gaze, and a shudder raced through her. The tender awe and love in his expression wrenched inside her, tripping over her anger and confusion.

  Darby scooped Savannah into her arms quickly and stood, turning her back to him. She needed to set some ground rules with Connor before things went any further.

  “What’s wrong, Priss? Did we wake you?” She stroked Savannah’s head. “Does your tummy hurt?”

  Savannah shrugged and stuck her thumb in her mouth. Darby didn’t have the heart to fight the bad habit that had reappeared recently. Anything that gave her baby comfort was fine with her. Her daughter craned her neck to peer over Darby’s shoulder to Connor. “Where’s Kaylee?”

  A grin tugged Darby’s lips. Savannah loved Kaylee, Grant’s new baby. And she had to admit, with his hair darkened, Connor looked a good bit like his older brother. “Kaylee’s at home. That’s not Uncle Grant.”

  Darby shot Hunter a glance, looking for help, but Connor’s younger brother only shrugged, deferring to her. He jammed his hands in his jeans pockets and sent her a commiserative glance.

  She leaned back to meet Savannah’s light brown eyes. Connor’s eyes. “Remember at the hospital a little while ago, Uncle Hunter told you he had another brother?”

  Savannah wrinkled her nose again, clearly skeptical.

  From behind her, Connor moved into her peripheral view. The knot of frustration and overwhelming confusion tightened in her belly. “This man is Hunter’s other brother.”

  “The one who died?” Savannah asked, her brow furrowed in obvious confusion.

  “Well, that’s what we thought. But we were wrong.” Darby rubbed her daughter’s arm and forced a grin. “Connor didn’t die after all.”