Coming Home

by Leslie Kelly

  Her son nodded. "Yeah. You're tough, Mom. So why didn't you get on the plane, fly to Florida, go right up to his door and ask him to his face why he was being so mean to you?"

  "That certainly would have solved everything," Wyatt murmured.

  Thinking before she answered, Nicole finally admitted, "I guess the truth is, I was just afraid. I didn't have enough faith in myself, in the feelings Wyatt and I had for each other. I was young, and I second guessed myself into believing that he'd never cared for me, that it was all one-sided."

  Justin turned to peer toward Wyatt. "Was it?"

  He hesitated for a long moment, and Nicole realized she was holding her breath, waiting for his answer.

  "No," Wyatt finally admitted. "It wasn't."

  Her heart fluttered, but she forced herself to ignore everything except Justin’s feelings.

  Their son nodded, satisfied. Nicole wondered what was going on in his mind, how he felt learning he had a father who hadn't even known he existed until this morning. She tried to put herself in his shoes, but was unable to do it. She’d been raised by divorced parents and had had a hard enough time…she couldn’t imagine finding out her entire childhood had been a lie.

  "Are you all right?" she asked.

  Justin stared at her through a lock of thick, dark hair which had fallen across his brow. She ached to reach out and brush it away, but sensed he wouldn't appreciate the gesture. Justin was wrapped in his solitude, maintaining a physical distance from both of them as he absorbed the sudden changes to his ordered world.

  When he did reply, he certainly didn't mince words. "It totally sucks, Mom."

  What else was there to say? Nicole couldn't have found better words to describe the situation in which they all found themselves.

  The threatening skies let loose with a fast, heavy downpour. Nicole glanced outside and watched lightning rip through the dark clouds. Thick drops of water skittered in through the open loft door and slid across the plank floor. "I guess we should have made a dash for the house while we had a chance," she said. "I'm sure Maria and Josh are worried."

  Justin drew his knees up to his chest and hugged his legs with his gangly arms. Nicole saw him lower his head, and she wished she hadn't voiced her thoughts aloud. Obviously Justin was feeling guilty for running off and scaring them.

  "Maria saw me climb up here," Wyatt said. "She was walking across the yard toward the woods and I waved to let her know everything was okay."

  No one spoke for a few long moments. Nicole heard the rain slowing. The quick afternoon shower was already ending. Soon the sun would emerge again, drying the landscape and offering them a glorious sunset. She wondered if the clouds over her heart would ever clear away, if she'd ever feel sunny and happy again.

  Not if she lost Justin. Not, she conceded, if she lost his father.

  "So," Justin said as he stretched out to lie on his back and stare up at the dusty ceiling. "I guess you better tell me about yourself." He turned his head and looked at Wyatt. "I mean, if you're my dad, and I'm going to be hanging out with you from now on, I oughta at least know your last name."

  A brief silence ensued. Nicole nearly sighed with relief. Justin, at least, was going to be okay. He would get through this. When Wyatt answered, his voice was thick and husky with emotion. "It's Clayton, son. My name is Wyatt Andrew Clayton. And I'm very happy to meet you."

  They left the barn as soon as the rain stopped. Nicole noticed how Justin tried to match Wyatt's long stride, wanting to seem a man like his father. She bit her lip hard to keep tears from coming to her eyes.

  When they entered the house, they found Maria sitting alone in the kitchen. She stood immediately and smiled in relief when she saw the three of them together. "Your father is lying down. I'll go tell him right now that you are all safely back."

  "Thank you, Maria," Nicole murmured.

  Justin helped himself to a soda from the fridge, and Nicole put the kettle on the burner to prepare some tea. She held up an empty cup toward Wyatt, silently asking if he wanted some, but he answered with a quick negative shake of his head.

  "So, what do we do now?" Justin asked as he sat down at the kitchen table. "This is all pretty new to me."

  "It's new to us, too, son," Wyatt said. "I think we're going to have to think very carefully about what we want to do. But please know that we all want you to be happy."

  He was saying exactly the right things, as if he’d been born to play the role of father. Guilt sliced through her all over again, not just for the fact that he’d been deprived of it, but for her doubt in him earlier today, her fear that he’d react badly and not look after Justin’s welfare first and foremost. She always seemed to underestimate this man.

  Justin nodded and returned his attention to his drink. Wyatt continued, "I would very much like to spend some time getting to know you. Whenever you feel ready, I’d like to take you to my ranch."

  "You have a ranch? Do they have cows in Florida?"

  Wyatt chuckled. "Yes, there are lots of cows in Florida. You see them up to their bellies in swampy water half the time, but I don’t raise cattle. The Four C breeds and trains race horses. You might not have realized it, but the Ocala area is one of the major spots for horse breeding in America."

  Justin nodded. "Yeah, Grandpa told me that one." The boy slowly brought his glass to his mouth and sipped it before continuing. "I guess I'd like to come out and see the ranch."

  Wyatt nodded slowly, feeling a tremendous sense of relief. Justin seemed to be willing to give him a chance, to forgive the fact that his father hadn't even known of his existence. Wyatt wondered if he'd ever forgive himself. Sure he'd been lied to, but still, somehow, he should have known. In spite of the lies, he felt there should have been some mental connection.

  Maybe there had been, he acknowledged. Maybe the fact that he'd never quite gotten over Nicole Ross, never moved on with someone else, at least not seriously, had been the clue. Perhaps he'd just been too hard-headed to acknowledge it.

  Someone knocked on the front door. Whoever it was didn't wait to be invited in. "Hello? Is anyone here? I've checked in at the motel and thought I'd come see if Nicole is back."

  Wyatt watched the color drain from Nicole's face, and saw Justin's hands clench around his glass as they recognized the smooth, cultured tone. Staring hard at the doorway, he was not a bit surprised when Nicole's mother entered. The slim, elegantly dressed woman assessed the situation in a few short seconds. She stared at Nicole's stricken face, at Justin's accusing one. And then, her eyes met his.

  There was no way for him to hide his fury. Wyatt saw her cringe a tiny bit before she straightened her shoulders. Nicole's mother looked like she was preparing for battle.

  Good. She should. Because now they all knew the truth, and there was absolute hell to pay.

  Nicole watched her mother enter the room, her stomach churning and her hands starting to clench and unclench in her lap. It was nearly impossible for her to believe that the woman who'd claimed to love her all her life, who'd held her while she cried out her broken heart over Wyatt, and had been there with her in the delivery room when Justin was born...could have been the one who kept them apart all through the years.

  Nicole squeezed Justin's hand and gave him a shaky smile. "Sweetheart, why don't you go upstairs and visit Grandpa for a while. I'm sure he'd like to spend some time with you."

  Justin looked like he wanted to argue. The independent part of him seemed to want to challenge his grandmother for the wrong she'd done him. But the little boy part was confused, frightened, and wanted to escape. Nicole nodded encouragement, and Justin stood and left the room. He didn't spare his grandmother so much as a glance.

  Justin shut the door to the kitchen as he left the room. To Nicole, the small click of the door sounded like a cannon blast signaling the start of a war.

  "Nicole, I..."

  "Don't," Nicole snarled, holding her hand up, palm out, to silence her mother. "Don't say a word to me."

>   "She can sure as hell say a few to me," Wyatt said as he leaped from his chair.

  Nicole extended her arm straight out in front of her to block his way, fearing his anger might make him do something he'd later regret. "Please, Wyatt, sit down. We've got to talk about all this rationally."

  He looked like he was about to argue, but she grabbed his hand and looked up at him pleadingly. His face didn't soften a bit. His eyes still blazed with anger. But, somehow, he restrained it, pulled his hand free of her grip and stalked across the kitchen to lean against the counter.

  "I can see you're angry," Monica said softly.

  "How could you?" Nicole asked. "How could you do it, knowing how I loved him? How could you let Justin go through his childhood without a father?"

  Tears rose in Monica's eyes. "He didn't want you."

  "Like hell!" Wyatt roared.

  "You didn't," Monica insisted. "The names you called her, the way you and your grandfather spoke about her! My God, Nicole, it nearly killed your father when that vicious grandfather of his repeated what Wyatt had said about you."

  Nicole barely remembered the first few days after she'd told her father she was pregnant. She had a vague memory of Josh's fury after a meeting with Charlie Clayton, and how he'd insisted they leave that night for Maryland. He'd told her she needed her mother, she needed to get away. And she'd followed, numb, scared, too witless to even ask what Wyatt's grandfather had said.

  "You don't know what you're talking about," Wyatt said.

  "Yes, I do. You called her a liar, a slut, said she was garbage, trying to trap you with a nonexistent baby."

  Monica's whole body shook as she walked toward Wyatt. Nicole wondered where her mother got the courage, but she never relented. "How was I supposed to let you waltz back into her life? You showed up at my door weeks later, after she'd finally stopped crying each and every day about you. There you were, arrogant, cocky, demanding, looking like a bum in your dirty clothes with your long hair. For all I knew you had just found out that my family had a lot of money and you figured you'd use Nicole and the baby to get some of it."

  Wyatt looked at her in disbelief, but, to his credit, didn't try to move toward her. "You spiteful old...I was dirty and ragged because I'd just raced halfway across the world when I finally found out what had happened."

  "I was not going to let my daughter repeat my mistake," Monica continued. "She was young and foolish and wanted to marry you because she was pregnant. Believe me, I'd been in her shoes and the last thing I wanted was for Nicole to go through a short marriage and a bitter divorce and then have to share custody of her child for the rest of her life."

  "So you lied," Nicole said baldly.

  Her mother shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot and wouldn't meet her eyes. Finally, defiantly, she replied, "Yes. I lied. I told him you'd lost the baby. And I told him in such a way that I knew he wouldn't want to try to contact you."

  "You made him think it was intentional. Even though he'd come to you, telling you he wanted me, wanted the baby."

  "I didn't believe him," Monica said, her voice insistent. "After what he said about you, how could I believe him?"

  Wyatt crossed his arms in front of his chest and tightly explained, "I didn't say those things."

  "It was Brady," Nicole said softly, remembering what Wyatt had told her earlier that afternoon in the car. "Brady was the one Wyatt's grandfather contacted."

  "Who's Brady?" Monica asked.

  "My cousin. Nicole had dated him that summer, and Josh made the assumption that he was the baby's father. I didn't know anything about the pregnancy until weeks later."

  Nicole watched her mother's face go pale. The stricken woman reached a hand out to support herself against the doorjamb. Nicole felt a moment's pity for her, but there was one more secret to reveal. One more piece of the puzzle she needed to clarify. She already suspected the truth, but her mother would have to confirm it.

  Not moving a muscle, Nicole softly said, "The letter."

  No one spoke for a moment. But she knew her mother understood what she was asking. Slowly, Nicole rose from her chair and stood to bring her eyes level with her mother’s.

  "You threw away the letter. You must have. Otherwise Wyatt would have come right after Justin was born."

  "What letter?" Wyatt asked, his voice coarse and broken and strained as a taut wire.

  Hating to hear the pain in his tone, Nicole set aside her misgivings and approached him. Tears came to her eyes as she tried to touch his hand. He flinched away from her. She stood her ground.

  "I wrote to you. I sent you one of Justin's baby pictures. I hoped if you saw the picture, and if I swore to you that you were the father, and also swore I hadn't meant to trap you, you'd come. Even after mother told me what your grandfather had said, I felt sure that you'd come. I couldn't believe it when you never did."

  Nicole saw Wyatt absorb what she'd said. She wondered if he believed her. After all, he'd been glaring daggers at her ever since he'd first seen Justin. It was very possible he'd never trust another word that came out of her mouth.

  He stared searchingly into her eyes, and finally—oh, finally—his expression softened.

  "I would have," he murmured. "God knows I would have. But I never got the letter."

  She closed her eyes, letting out a long slow breath, and nodded. It wasn’t much, but at least it answered the final question…and filled in that last tiny hole of her heart.

  "No, of course you didn't,” she finally whispered. “My mother threw it away." Turning her back to Wyatt, she stared at her mother. "That is what happened, isn't it?"

  The other woman stood with her arms wrapped protectively around her own waist. Her perfectly made-up face looked stricken, and guilt was written all over it. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "So sorry. But, Nicole, please try to understand..."

  Nicole frowned. "How can you ask me to understand? You stole from me. You stole a life I wanted, more children I might have had. You stole my right to decide my own future."

  "And," interrupted Wyatt, "you stole a father away from your only grandchild."

  Nicole felt a quick flash of sympathy for her mother when she saw tears rolling down the older woman's cheeks. She'd never seen her mother cry. Not once. Nor had she ever heard the strong, powerful woman apologize for a single thing she'd ever done.

  "Nicole, you're a mother, too. Think about it. If you saw Justin on a collision course with trouble, if you just knew in your heart that he was going to be badly hurt, wouldn't you do everything you could to stop it? Lie, steal...whatever it took?"

  Nicole thought about it before she answered. In some respects, her mother was right. There was nothing on earth she wouldn't do for her son. "I would gladly give my life for Justin," Nicole admitted. "But I would not willingly deceive him, lie to him, for years on end."

  Monica sniffed and retrieved a tissue from her handbag. She wiped her tears. "I don't expect you to forgive me now. Neither of you." She glanced toward Wyatt. "And I'm sure it will take Justin a while, too. I just hope you can try to understand why I did what I did."

  Monica turned to leave the kitchen. She paused at the door, looked back over her shoulder and said, "I think it's best if I return to Maryland right away. When you and Justin come home in a few weeks, we'll sit down and try to work this out, all right?"

  Nicole caught her mother's eye and slowly gave a single nod.

  After Monica left the kitchen, Nicole took a deep breath, then turned to look at Wyatt. He still leaned against the counter, frowning at the door through which her mother had just left.

  "No way in hell that happens, Nicole. No way."

  Tired and filled with unshed tears and visions of all the things she had lost, she found it hard to focus on his words at first. Then she saw the tight expression, his dark frown, and the way he was shaking with anger.

  “No way,” he repeated.

  “No way what?” she managed to whisper, already fearing she knew the answer to
her question.

  "No way my son goes back under that woman's roof.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  "What exactly do you mean by that?" Nicole asked, though, judging by the shakiness of her voice, she already knew.

  He heard that fear, noted the way the color dropped out of her face. But still steeled himself against her obvious distress. “I mean, no way is my son going back to that woman’s house in Maryland. She's twisted, malicious, controlling...she's done what she could to screw up your life and she's not going to get another chance to do that to Justin."

  Nicole crossed her arms in front of her chest and tilted her head back. Fire burned in her eyes as she almost visibly threw off her own grief and fear. Wyatt couldn't stop a quick flare of admiration for her spunk.

  She’d heard his threat and she was going to fight him every step of the way. He'd expected nothing less.

  "You have no right to dictate where my son lives."

  "Like hell I don't," he retorted. "You had him the first ten years, it would be perfectly within my rights for me to demand the next few...at least until he turns eighteen. Don't push me, Nicole, or that's exactly what I'll do."

  He didn't mean to force her hand. In spite of his fury with her, he already knew how much Nicole loved Justin. He didn't want either one of them hurt. But it was more important to him to keep Justin from being emotionally poisoned by his grandmother.

  Even as Nicole glared at him, it pained him to look at her, actually caused him a deep, physical hurt. Because, in spite of everything, he loved her so much. Now, knowing they had a child together, he couldn't help the small flashes of fantasy that skirted around the edges of his brain, fantasies of them being a family.

  But that just couldn't be. He could never be with someone he didn't trust. Someone who didn't love him. And Nicole obviously didn't love him. Because if she did, she would not have let him suffer earlier that afternoon when he told her he believed their child had never been born.