His Lost and Found Family

by Sarah M. Anderson

  Jake held up his finger and grinned as Grace did her level best to clamp down on it. “You’re already pretty strong, aren’t you?”

  Grace sighed.

  God, this little girl pulled at him in ways he’d never imagined possible. She’d only been a part of his life for a week and already he was having trouble remembering what it’d been like before.

  Three weeks on, one week off—was that something he could really do? Go three weeks without seeing Grace?

  Hell, could he go that long without Skye? Yeah, he’d spent ten months away from her, but that had been when things were bad between them. Right now, that seemed like such a distant memory as to have been another life. Right now, she was the woman he’d always loved. The woman he always wanted to love.

  He didn’t know. He just didn’t know.

  Keaton was staring at him. Jake got the feeling his big brother wanted to say something—several somethings—and none of them would be complimentary.

  So Jake decided to change the subject.

  “Mom said the tornado turned up the original land deed in town hall?” The Holt family had long claimed the Taylors had stolen part of the Holts’ land—and the Taylors had always claimed the Holts were on their property. Neither side had proof. The land deeds had long been lost.

  Keaton nodded. He went to a drawer and pulled out a piece of paper that had been folded over and over. “The original is with our lawyers,” he said as he unfolded the copy. The deed took up almost half of the dining-room table.

  Jake picked up Grace. Even if Lark had said it was okay to leave the baby on the ground, he still didn’t like it. It just felt wrong. Plus, Keaton’s dog was right over there. Jake didn’t want to leave Grace where the dog could get her.

  Keaton was unfolding a second sheet of paper—a map. “This is the current fence line,” he said, pointing to an ugly red line down the middle. “And according to the deed, this,” he said, pointing to a blue line almost three inches away, “is the original property line.”

  “What’s the scale?” Jake said, rubbing Grace’s back.

  “One inch equals one thousand feet.”

  Jake whistled, which caused Grace to start. “Sorry, sweetie,” he said. “That’s close to a half mile.”

  “Actually, you figure in how long the fence runs, it comes out to almost two thousand acres.”

  “Damn. Dang,” Jake quickly corrected. There was a child in the room.

  “I could use the land,” Keaton told him. “The ranch’s finances are still struggling from the tornado. More land means more cattle and better grazing. There are several small lakes and a spring on what they claim is their land that would make a big difference in how many cattle I can support. Hell, the value of the land alone is close to two million.”

  “What’s it going to take, then?” Jake asked. “To get the Taylors to admit they’re in the wrong?”

  “Don’t know,” Keaton said. “If we only had some independent proof—so that Tyrone can’t claim I forged it...” He shook his head. “I tried, you know. I went out there to make peace, for Lark. Told him I wanted to marry his daughter and maybe we could just let bygones be bygones.”

  “How’d that work out for you?”

  “Oh, you know—the usual. He accused me of forging the documents. And they’ve basically disowned Lark.”

  Independent proof. That’s what Jake needed. Irrefutable evidence that Skye’s great-great-great-grandfather or whoever had moved the line and misappropriated Holt land.

  How the hell was Jake supposed to get that?

  Keaton sighed. “It’s not all bad. Tyrone’s stuck. He can’t sell the land without a bill of sale and we will sue him if he ‘finds’ one. And if he can’t get rid of the land, it’ll be handed down to Lark and Skye, just like our land will go to us. We just have to wait him out.”

  “Great. Another generation of waiting. Yippee.”

  Keaton snorted as he pointed to a black square that almost sat on the red line. “I’m not waiting. I’m building Lark a house. Mom and Dad offered to let us have the ranch house when they retire to Gulf Shores, but...I wanted her to have someplace that was her own. It’s going to have a gourmet kitchen and a library for all of her books and plenty of room. She says maybe we’ll have three or four kids.” Keaton laughed. “Can you imagine? Me and Lark with four kids all running around.”

  Actually, Jake was having a lot of trouble imagining that. “Which side of the fence are you building?” he asked, eyeing the map.

  “The Holt side—but,” Keaton said with a mean grin, “man, it’s snugged up against that fence line. You could walk out of the house and cross over into what Tyrone claims is ‘his’ land. You know, you could take over the ranch house after Mom and Dad move out. We’d be neighbors.”

  Jake could. He could go back home and erase all the bad memories of the past, the same way he was trying to do with Skye now. He could put his family in his childhood home and just...

  Pretend nothing had happened? Wasn’t he already doing that? He was hanging out with Keaton, as if the man had never betrayed him. He was taking care of Skye, as if the past two years had been nothing but a lousy dream after too many burritos.

  Could he do that forever?

  What about when she remembered? Would she still want him? And would she go on pretending that the divorce papers had been a figment of his imagination—or not?

  When they’d first run off, they’d gotten a one-bedroom apartment and set up their computers on a rickety table they’d bought at a thrift store. They’d lived cheaply and worked from home, him on building his IT business, her on her graphic design business. They’d spent most of the day—and the night—together. If the mood hit them, Jake would pull her out of her chair and take her to bed. And when the bed was too far away, he’d take her to the couch.

  It’d just been them against the world for about eight months. Him and Skye, like it was supposed to be.

  Then his business had started to take off. He’d won a couple of bids, got some good references and begun taking more jobs. He’d been home less and less, although Skye still worked from home. They’d moved into a better place after one lucrative job, gotten nicer things. They’d left the rickety table behind.

  There’d been a time when that...hadn’t worked as well. They’d had better stuff—nicer cars, better clothes and a much nicer place—but Jake had been working insane hours. He hadn’t been home as much. He’d missed her, but he hadn’t been able to back off from the job. Texas Sky Consulting had been taking off and a secure financial future that was completely independent of either of their families was no small thing.

  When international clients had started inquiring about Jake’s services, he’d asked Skye to come with him. They’d jetted around the world together and on those trips, they’d gotten a taste of the closeness that had marked their first year together. Yeah, Jake still worked, but Skye was included in dinners and parties. And since neither of them spoke anything besides English and a little Spanish, they stuck together even more.

  But then...then they’d gone back home. He’d gone back to work. And left Skye alone.

  To see the love in her eyes dim a little more every day.

  As Jake patted Grace’s back, he remembered how he’d felt during those times. There was a wall between them, things left unsaid. He hadn’t liked it then and he didn’t like it now.

  The fact of the matter was, he’d put his business before Skye. He’d convinced himself he was doing it for her—providing for their future together—but was that really reason enough to work seventy-hour weeks? To go days without touching her?

  Weeks without touching her?

  “Mom has offered,” he told Keaton. “I’m thinking about it. It’d make Skye happy to stay here.”

  “Yeah? Would it make you happy?”


  Jake gritted his teeth. Not yet it wouldn’t, he thought—but he kept that to himself. Luckily, Grace started to fuss. “Is it bedtime?” Jake asked, looking at the clock.

  “Yup. Let me get her bottle. You want to do this on your own?”

  “Yeah,” Jake said. He got why Skye was always saying she wanted to care for the baby herself. There was something sweet about being the one to feed and burp—and yes, even change the diapers.

  As he fed and rocked Grace until she fell asleep, Jake realized that he didn’t know much, but he knew that he loved Skye and that he loved Grace.

  He’d almost lost his family once.

  He’d do anything to hold on to them.

  * * *

  “Oh,” Skye whispered when she saw Jake rocking Grace to sleep. “Hi.”

  Jake smiled up at her—the picture of a doting father. Skye was filled with love. She’d wanted this—something told her she’d known this was what would happen. A baby would solve so many of the things that had driven her and Jake away from Royal in the first place.

  And Grace had. Skye was close to Lark again. By all appearances, Jake and Keaton had spent an evening together without killing each other. And Gloria was going to wash all the baby things and bring them over to help Skye get the house ready for when Grace could come home.

  Grace just hadn’t worked her charm on Tyrone and Vera Taylor.

  Jake held up his hand, as if to say, Just a minute. He carefully got up and laid the baby down in her crib.

  Skye joined him, leaning against his shoulder as they watched their daughter sleep. Grace was perfect—getting stronger every day, too. Just like Skye.

  Jake leaned down and kissed her lightly. “Ready to go home?”

  “Do we have to?” Skye knew the answer to that, but still, she wanted to stay with Grace.

  “We’ll come back tomorrow,” he promised her. Then he kissed her again. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

  She grinned and took his arm. After the semi-disastrous baby shower, she wouldn’t mind falling asleep in Jake’s arms. “Good night, my little bit of Grace.” She leaned down and tenderly ran her hand over her little girl’s head. “Sleep well.”

  Lark was waiting for them downstairs. “I have to work tomorrow, so it’ll just be Keaton,” she told them. “Oh, and Skye—here’s your diamond.”

  “What?” Jake said. “What diamond?”

  “My one earring,” Skye said, handing him the little bag with one earring and a post in it. “Lark said they didn’t find the other diamond or my wedding ring.”

  The blood drained out of Jake’s face. “Oh. Well. I’ll...hang on to this for you, okay?”

  They said their goodbyes to Keaton and Lark and then Jake took her home. “I wish I had my ring,” she told him in the car. Exhausted, she slumped against the window, watching the brownness that was Texas in February slide past. “You should have seen the look my mother gave me tonight. It made me almost feel like we weren’t married anymore.”

  He made a choking noise. “We are, babe. We are still married.”

  Still.

  What a strange word.

  She looked at him. His wedding ring glinted in the light of the dash. Still. Still.

  Something wasn’t right.

  She closed her eyes and tried to think—but no, she was too danged tired to come up with the echo of something Jake might have said once—why do you still want to go back there?

  Why aren’t I enough for you?

  Skye jolted straight up in her seat. What the heck was that? She looked at Jake.

  “What? What?” he repeated. “Are you okay?” He looked over at her. “You can’t let your mom get to you, babe. I never really understood why you wanted to come back here, to be closer to that.”

  “I just...” She sighed. She didn’t remember discussing this with him, but on the other hand, the conversation had a familiar feel to it. “I wanted things to be different. Better.”

  Jake was silent after that, which left Skye feeling kind of hopeless and she wasn’t even sure why. After all, things were better. Lark and Keaton, Gloria and David—those relationships were one-hundred-percent better now than when Jake and Skye had slipped off into the night four years ago.

  She was too tired to think—and definitely too tired to be reading something into Jake’s nonresponse. They were almost home anyway.

  He pulled into the drive and shut the car off, but he didn’t get out right away.

  “Jake?” Had she crossed some line she didn’t remember she shouldn’t cross?

  “It’s nothing,” he said. “I bet you’re beat. Let’s get you to bed.”

  Even though Skye’s legs were getting stronger, Jake scooped her out of her seat and carried her into the house. She let him. She rested her head on his shoulder as he carried her up the stairs. Then he went back down to lock up while she used the bathroom. She got into bed and a few minutes later, he climbed in with her.

  He pulled her into a tight embrace, but it wasn’t an erotic touch. He clung to her as if he were afraid she’d be blown away with the next strong wind that roared through.

  “Skye,” he said in such a serious voice that a pit of nerves opened up in her stomach.

  “What is it?” Because there had to be an it—a something that she didn’t know but should.

  He laced his fingers with hers and held them over her heart. “I wanted things to be better, too.”

  She let those words sift through her mind. He could be talking about their parents or her accident or Grace being a preemie or any number of things.

  But she didn’t think he was. She thought he was talking about the two of them.

  “Are we...are we okay?”

  When he didn’t answer immediately, the nerves kicked straight over to stark panic. She didn’t know if she was going to cry or not.

  “We are,” he said, but he didn’t sound convinced. “I have loved you for twenty years, Skye. Nothing—nothing—has ever changed that. And nothing ever will. You know that, right?”

  “I do,” she said, her voice shaking. “You know I love you too, right?”

  He lifted up her left hand and kissed her bare ring finger. “I just...I don’t want you to forget that, that’s all.”

  “I couldn’t, Jake. I couldn’t—not you.”

  He rolled into her, saying, “Don’t,” as he kissed her. “Don’t forget this, my blue-eyed Skye.”

  “I won’t,” she promised him as their bodies joined again and again. “I will always remember you, Jake.”

  Eleven

  Why aren’t I enough for you? Skye looked around, but she couldn’t see where Jake was. His voice just was.

  You were—when you were here, she said back—or thought back—or however they were talking.

  Except they weren’t talking. They were shouting. They were fighting. And Jake...Jake walked away? From her?

  She jolted awake, her heart pounding as she gasped for air. Was that real? Had that happened? Or had it been a dream? No, not a dream—a nightmare.

  It had to be a nightmare because Jake was lying in bed next to her. He’d sworn he loved her and then made love to her, and she was safe in his arms. They were home in Royal and they would go see Grace tomorrow and...

  Except for one thing. She could still see the scene. Their apartment in Houston, her standing at the window, Jake packing up a bag and saying, “I already signed the contract.” He’d made no move toward Skye—made no attempt to comfort her. “I leave in two weeks.”

  She pinched her arm, which hurt. She wasn’t still dreaming. She was remembering.

  “So it’s settled, then,” she’d said to him. God, she remembered how the distance between them had felt impossibly huge.

  Skye began to panic.


  “You could still come with me.” That’s what he’d said. Not that he loved her, not that he couldn’t live without her.

  “You could still stay. We could go home together, start our family.” That was what she’d said back. Not that she couldn’t bear to lose him, not that he was her everything.

  And he’d left. He’d left without another word.

  And she’d...

  Oh, God. Oh, God.

  She’d thrown her ring out the window.

  Skye began to sob.

  * * *

  One minute, he was asleep. The next, Skye was making horrible choking noises.

  “Babe?” he said, trying to keep calm as he pulled her into his arms. “Babe, you’re okay. I’m here now. I’m right here.”

  “Oh, Jake,” she wept. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it.”

  No. God, no. Had she been— “It’s okay,” he soothed as he stroked her hair and her back, trying to calm her down. “What happened?”

  “I—the dream.”

  Jake forced himself to breathe in and out. “What did you dream?”

  “We had a fight. And I woke up, but it wasn’t a dream, was it? It wasn’t.” It was hard to understand her through the tears.

  Jake’s hands stilled against her. “What—” He swallowed, trying desperately to keep his cool. “What else did you remember?” The word cut into his mouth as if he were chewing glass.

  Because this was it. This was the moment he’d been dreading.

  “Bahrain? But I thought you were in New York for that job. But you were going to Bahrain. For, like, a year. A year!”

  Damn. She was remembering—sort of. Her brain was trying to put the past back in place.

  “Babe,” he said, rubbing her back. “It’s okay, babe.”

  “You left. You left me.”

  He was not supposed to lie to her. He could gloss over the truth. Julie at the hospital had said so.

  But how could he gloss over this? He could convince her it’d all been a bad dream, that he’d been in New York for a short time instead of another country for almost a year.