Bringing Baby Home (19 page)

He gave the framed picture a little shake and asked, “This reminds me. Did you keep any of my old stuff? I’d certainly understand if you didn’t, but—”

Her laugh made him stop midsentence. She looked past him and
said, “Paul wants to know if we kept any of his stuff.”

David looked over his shoulder. Brent was standing there, a curious, towheaded toddler in his arms. Brent smiled for the first time. “Oh, yeah, have we got stuff. Half a garage full. My car will worship you if you take it off our hands.”

David shook his head. “You kept my crap? Why?”

“I ask her the same thing every spring and fall. She says, ‘Because I can’t get rid of it. I just can’t.’”

David looked at his ex-wife. “Why?”

A mischievous grin made her eyes twinkle. “Same reason I sold the house next door, used what I needed to to settle your affairs, then gave the rest to my brilliant, utterly anal husband to invest. Because I knew you’d be back for it.”

Brent joined them. “Anal?” he said peevishly to Kay. He handed the little boy to David then walked to a built-in desk with a computer on it. After sitting down to type in something, he said, “I’ll have you know every penny of the royalties from your patents went into a separate account. I only risked the interest in the stock market. And I did pretty damn well, if I do say so myself.”

David juggled the child who eyeballed him suspiciously but didn’t cry. “What patents?”

“Ray or someone in the company must have filed patents on your new formulas on your behalf. I know how focused you were on the discovery end, but someone knew there was money to be made over the long haul,” Brent said. “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

“What if I’d never come back?”

Kay smiled and brushed a hand over her son’s downy hair. “We have four-going-on-five children. We’d have foun
d a use, but the bulk I’d intended to set up as science scholarships in your name.”

The baby let out a loud sound and threw his little body sideways, nearly causing David to stumble. The boy wanted his mother and wasn’t afraid to say so. “How much are we talking?”

Kay took the child from his arms. “Show him, Brent.”

Brent got up and gave David the chair. Even at first glance, he could tell there were a lot of zeroes. “This is mine?”

“Brent’s devoted as much time and planning to your portfolio as he has ours,” Kay said.

David stood up and walked to the couple. “I don’t know what to say. I wasn’t expecting anything from you. All I was hoping for was your forgiveness.” He shook Brent’s hand. “Thank you so much.”

Kay made a sniffling sound and Brent put his arm around her shoulders. The baby tugged on his mother’s blond hair and put a few strands in his mouth.

David left a short time later—before the older children returned from school. He might see them at some point in the future, once their parents felt the time was right. Until then, though, he had a lot of things to do, starting with picking a name. Was he David Baines or Paul McAffee? A thing like that was important when a man planned on asking the woman he loved to marry him.

Liz looked
around the half-painted interior of her new workspace and smiled. Pristine walls, excellent ventilation and good lighting would help increase productivity once her eager workers started sealing tea bags in earnest.

The space had been provided by Mimi Simms, David’s landlady. After some debate, the older woman had decided to pocket the insurance money rather then rebuild David’s house, but she wasn’t happy not having someone or something besides a cat to fuss about, so she and Liz worked out a rental arrangement. Liz used the money that had been refunded from her adoption application to enclose a third of what had been David’s greenhouse. If he came back, he could still use the other two-thirds and the potting shed, which had escaped the fire, for his business.

If he never came back, Liz would eventually move into the rest of the space. She had a good feeling about her tea company, which thanks to word of mouth—and Romantique—was taking off.

“We are done?” Lydia asked.

Liz nodded. “Yep, Mom’s picking you up for your ESL class. I bet you can talk her into stopping at some fast-food restaurant on the way.”

The girls gave
each other a high five and laughed as they stripped off their rubber gloves. They’d returned from their trip to Arizona with a renewed determination to stay in the country. A family friend had volunteered to handle their case and had already made progress. Just this morning, the postman had delivered two temporary work permits, which Lydia and Reezira showed to anyone who came near.

Liz was happy for them. In fact, she was happy. More or less. She still missed Prisha, but had finally broken down and visited the Web site that provided updates on her progress. A video had documented her first surgery. Liz’s throat had been knotted the whole time, but seeing the child smile up at her mother after the anesthesia wore off had been worth the agony.

Prisha was going to be all right. Liz knew it. The little girl was a fighter. One day she’d walk without crutches. Maybe one day, she’d visit America and come to see the woman who had loved her so dearly. Liz wasn’t giving up hope. Using Jyoti as an interpreter, Liz had been able talk to Prisha’s mother, who, to Liz’s surprise, had thanked Prisha’s “American angel” for helping to bring her daughter home.

The sound of car tires on the gravel outside made the young women squeal and race around, collecting their purses and backpacks. Liz, who planned to paint the trim until it was time to pick up her roommates at the community college, followed them outside.

“Hello, dear,” her mother called. “How’s the painting going?”

“We’re all done except the trim. I should finish that tonight, then we can move in and set up operations.”

Liz had spent a lot of time since David’s departure thinking about what she wanted to accomplish. She was tired of physical
therapy, although she’d been approached by a new holistic healer in town about handling a few clients. She liked the young man’s approach and energy, and had agreed to try a test case. Maybe she’d find a balance between her new business and her former career.

“Wonderful. I had a lovely dream about you last night. I think you’re going to be wildly successful.”

Liz smiled. “Well. Coming from you, that’s a good thing. You didn’t happen to see a tall man with a shaggy mustache in that dream, did you?”

“No,” her mother said, but she didn’t seem very sad about dashing her daughter’s hope that David would return.

“Oh.”

“Ta-ta. We have to run,” Yetta said as the rear doors of the older Lincoln slammed shut. “Oh, and Elizabeth, I’ll pick up Lydia and Reezira after class today.”

That was a surprise. “Why?”

“You’ll see.”

Then she drove off.

“‘You’ll see,’” Liz repeated. “My mother is getting stranger and stranger, Scar.”

The cat was a constant presence whenever Liz was working in the greenhouse—almost as if the animal expected Liz to magically produce his former master. Liz would have liked nothing better, but she hadn’t heard from David since he left. Not a note, e-mail, postcard or letter.

She was mad about that, and more than a little hurt. But she’d kept busy. She still dreamed about him every night. She still watered his cacti and fed his cat. She still missed him.

She returned to her new room. She’d just donned her rubber gloves and paint cap when she heard the sound of tires on gravel again. The girls must have left something behind, she figured. They weren’t the most organized thinkers.

“What’d
you forg—?” she asked, reversing course.

The compact, sand-colored car wasn’t her mother’s. She recognized its distinctive style—one of Honda’s new hybrids. She’d drooled over the fuel-efficient model last week when she’d gone shopping for a new car. She was using a loaner from her cousin while she waited for her insurance company to cut her a check.

This beautiful vehicle still had the dealer plates in the window, but she quickly lost interest in the car when the door opened and the driver got out.

David.

Or someone who looked a lot like him.

P
AUL WASN’T SURE
what kind of reception to expect. He hadn’t called, figuring what he needed to say had to be said in person, but…

He took a breath and walked toward her, hand extended as if meeting her for the first time. “Hi, Liz, my name is Paul David McAffee. I’m new in town, but I’m here to stay.”

Her hand lifted, but the dazed look on her face didn’t change until their fingers met. She looked down, then up, quickly, as if confirming the touch truly belonged to the clean-shaven man in the top-end suit. At his ex-wife’s insistence, he’d visited a salon where his overdyed hair had been trimmed and styled and his shaggy mustache removed. He’d bought new clothes as soon as his identity had been cleared up and he was able to access his accounts.

He’d bought presents, too. An early Christmas for Kay’s children. Gifts from a man who would probably always be that distant uncle-figure who lived far away but sent money on their birthdays. The things for Liz’s family were in the back of the new car he’d purchased online—which had been waiting for him at the airport that morning.

“Paul David
McAffee,” she said softly, her gaze searching his face, as if looking for the man she’d last seen. Her free hand lightly skimmed the area above his upper lip. She smiled. “I like this. And your hair, too. You’re not blond.”

“This is closer to my real color,” he told her, his heart thumping so loudly he was sure she had to hear the racket. “Although the lady who worked me over said to expect some gray as it grows out.”

Her tentative smile turned into the beaming grin he knew so well and had missed so much. “Ah, well, that happens to the best of us.”

He squeezed her hand and brought it up between them to kiss her knuckles. Only then did he realize she was wearing gloves. “What are you doing here?”

She pulled her hand free and tore the gloves off, letting them drop to the ground. “Later,” she said, giving him a two-armed bear hug that made him let out a soft “Oomph.” “Catch up. Soon. First. Kiss.”

The words were probably imbedded in sentences, but all Paul heard was the part he’d been dying to hear. He didn’t need to be asked twice. He pulled her even closer and kissed her, sharing all the emotion he’d been storing up. The separation had given his feelings time to gel. He knew who he was, what he wanted to do with his life, and how Liz fit into those plans.

The kiss might have gone on forever if not for the nail-grating screech that wound upward from their feet. Liz pulled back and laughed. “Scar,” she explained. “He’s been so unhappy without you.”

Paul put enough distance between them to look down. Sure enough, the ugly tomcat was there, winding in and out between their legs, bellowing in his distinctive but hideous voice.
Paul didn’t want to let go of Liz, but felt compelled to greet his old friend. He bent over and picked up the cat.

“Hey, buddy, you’ve put on weight. Has Mimi been feeding you too much tuna?”

Liz gestured toward the greenhouse. Paul had noticed that the old foundation of his former house had been removed. The exterior and roof of the outbuildings had been repaired, and there appeared to be new, barn-type doors on the greenhouse.

“Actually, he spends most of his time here. I’ve been keeping food out for him, but the clever old beggar is probably hitting up our landlady, too.”

“
Our
landlady?”

Her cheeks filled with color and she self-consciously swept the funky white painter’s hat off her head. “Um, yeah, I’m in the process of moving my tea production into a third of the building. I decided if I was going to make a business out of this, I needed the right space.”

Scar was purring so loudly the hum seemed to vibrate through the wall of Paul’s chest and come out the other side. He almost missed what she said. Something about the future.

He bent over to set the cat down. “Sorry. I couldn’t hear over the Mack truck engine. What was that?”

She took his hand and tugged on it for him to follow. “Let me show you.”

Once inside the newly renovated space, he stopped dead in his tracks. “Wow. All this in a couple of weeks? How’d you managed that?”

She shrugged. “Mom calls it therapy. She says I’m the kind of person who has to work hard while trying to come to terms with tough breaks. Like after my dad died, I went to India to volunteer at the ashram.”

The ashram. He’d talked to her friend there and had some interesting
news, but that could wait. First, they needed to discuss what the future held for the two of them.

“This will be where we make the teas. See the great ventilation system and energy-efficient skylights? And out here will be our distribution center. Teas and cactus can use the same space, if we coordinate properly.”

He turned to look toward the opposite end of the building. Rows of pots were neatly lined up. All the plants looked healthy, cared for. The love he felt for this woman flooded every cell in his body. She’d done this on faith and belief in him. Belief that he’d come back.

“I love you, Liz.”

Her arms dropped to her sides and she turned to face him. “I love you, too. That was never in question, but your past…everything you left behind…is that settled?”

“Where can we sit? It’s a long story.”

She appeared to think a moment, then she smiled and motioned for him to follow. She gently pushed Scar back into the tearoom and closed the door so he couldn’t amble after them. “I left the potting shed pretty much the way it was. Our contractor fixed the roof and put in a little insulation so it’s not quite such a sweatbox, but the rest…”

He saw what she meant. The cot he’d borrowed from Mimi was still in place, although now so neatly made it could have passed a marine sergeant’s inspection.

Liz sat down and kicked off her paint-splattered mules. Paul took the other end, but kept his feet on the floor. What he wanted to do was pull her into his arms and make love with her, now, this instant, but that had to wait until they were clear about who he was.

“I’ve taken back my real name.”

“I noticed. Calling you Paul might take practice.”

He nodded. “I’m still getting used to answering to it, but that was
the name my parents chose for me. It was my great-grandfather’s name. But I don’t want to forget about my life as David. In a way, becoming David helped me find—or at least, redefine—myself.”

She leaned forward, her attention fully on him and his story. He felt his nervousness ease. This was Liz. If anyone would understand, she would. “When I first got to Virginia, I was really confused. Lost. I had no idea where to begin, but after I contacted my ex-wife and her husband, the pieces started to fall together.”

“You saw her? And the kids?”

He nodded. “She has a new son and she’s pregnant. Her husband is over the moon. They seem like a normal, busy, functional family.”

“How’d you feel after you saw them?”

“Relieved.”

“Why?”

“Because I felt as if—at least in this instance—I’d done the right thing. Yes, my fake death was painful for them, but they were safe and now they’ve moved on. That was all good. Plus, Kay, my ex, insisted that she never really believed I was dead, which is why she kept such good track of my money.”

Liz looked curious, but she didn’t say anything, Paul filled her in on the extent of his unexpected windfall.

“You’re rich?” she asked in obvious surprise.

“Not bad. A helluva lot better off than I was.”

She made a funny face—sort of bemused and maybe a little worried. “Does that mean you don’t plan on doing landscapes anymore?”

“Correct. No more digging in the dirt for neighborhood associations or demanding clients.”

“Oh. Then you won’t be needing the space in the greenhouse.” She definitely sounded disappointed.

He shook his head.
“Wrong. I came back for two reasons. The first, obviously, is you. The second has to do with those silly spiny plants that you’ve taken such good care of in my absence. As a scientist, I set out to improve the world through chemistry. Well, I didn’t do such a hot job of that. For the past four years, I saw a side of the world you just don’t get when you’re trapped in a lab. I saw life, the beauty of adaptation and the sad state of our natural environment. We’re losing desert species every day. As a scientist, and hopefully one day a father, I can’t let that happen.”

Liz couldn’t stifle the little gasp that came when he said the word
father
. She’d followed his story with breathless attention, knowing deep down that he was here to stay.

She put out her hand and let it rest on his chest. Cat hair adorned the fine fabric of his suit. Outwardly, he looked very different. Dashing. Sophisticated. “You’re sure about digging in the dirt and rescuing cactus? You look like a college professor.”

He grinned. “An astute observation. I had a quick face-to-face with a couple of VIPs from the university on my way here. One was leaving for Europe this afternoon, so this was my only chance to discuss my funding of a dedicated chair in desert environmental studies and reclamation.”