Heather Graham (4 page)

She clung to him, and he stayed with her, loath, too, to withdraw, to do anything that would break the wonder of the moment. But his weight atop her was heavy, and he shifted beside her. She stared at him wondrously, savoring the feel of him pressed against her.

Tears suddenly filled her eyes. “Oh, Brian…”

He pulled her against his slick chest, rubbing his knuckles softly over her cheek.

“I adore you,” he said softly.

She ran her fingers through the golden hair that framed his male nipples. “Is it possible, Brian? Can we really, truly love each other?”

“It’s not just possible; it is,” he replied, and he was leaning over her, his strength and conviction in the depths of his eyes. “And we’re going to get married.”

She frowned with a grin tugging at the corner of her lip. “Brian, I have another year of high school, and we both have college—which you’re supposed to leave for in the fall!” A little sob had caught the end of her sentence. If he left her, she would die. He would be gone, and there would be college girls all over, knowledgeable, happily willing women.

“I won’t leave,” he said. “I’ll work and take basics at the junior college. As soon as you graduate, we’ll get married, and we’ll leave together.”

“But, Brian, how will we make it?”

He laughed. “Work, my love. And scholarships—I’ve been offered really good ones for the state schools. Our folks aren’t rich, but they’ll help.”

“Think we can really do it?” she asked, her excitement growing. She couldn’t bear thoughts of his possibly finding another girl—not now, not when she had become so completely his.

“Of course, we can do it,” he said a bit gruffly, and he stared at her with such rough, raw possession that she felt a little thrill even before she heard his next words. “You’re mine, Kim. I knew it from the moment I saw you. There will never be another woman for me, and I’ll never, never allow there to be another man for you.”

He spoke so vehemently it was slightly chilling but exciting. He meant it, and she didn’t doubt he did. He was Brian, commanding, demanding, certain. He was the sun in all its glorious aspects—gentle warmth, blazing heat—and he was touching her again, doing magical things, demanding all sorts of intimacies while throatily praising her perfection.

“Mom!”

Kim shook herself and shut the book with a slam. Her hands were clammy with sweat, and she was shaking. How could such old memories be so vivid when half the time she wouldn’t remember his face if the twins weren’t around?

“In the attic!” she called back absently, slipping the Polaroid into the closed book. She shook her head sadly. “Oh, Brian,” she whispered softly, “that was so long ago. The world has changed so much, and so have I. I wonder if we’d even like each other anymore? We were so young. And Keith is so different. Everything is so something, Brian….” She chuckled slightly at herself for being ridiculous. What did it matter, and why was she sitting here talking to a dusty old book?

She frowned a second later, remembering that one of the boys had called her, yet neither one of them had appeared. Standing and brushing away dirt and cobwebs from her clothing, she climbed down the ladder. From the second-floor landing she could hear the boys talking in front of the bay window.

“He must want something.” That came from Jacob—her logical son, the suspicious one.

“Yeah, he’s been walking up and down for a half hour!” Josh said.

“You always exaggerate.”

“I wonder what he wants.”

“I wonder who he is.”

“Jake, look at him.” Josh said it with a strange, tense excitement.

“Yeah?”

“I mean, look. Really look. Then look at me.”

“It can’t be.”

“Do we have any long-lost uncles?”

“What’s going on, you two?” Kim demanded.

“Mom, there’s a man out there!”

“He’s coming to the door! He’s coming to the door!”

“What’s with you two?” Kim demanded with annoyance. “And get off that couch with your wet suits!” Shaking her head at the apparent insanity of her offspring, she sprinted down the stairway as the bell rang. “It’s probably just someone about the house.”

She threw open the door, and at first she just stared, a polite, inquiring smile plastered to her face. Of course, she hadn’t recognized him at first, she thought once she
had
recognized him, because that was impossible. She had to be wrong. He was tall and broad and ruggedly handsome. His hair was the color of corn, and he was tanned, and his features were strong and powerful. His chin was very square; his cheekbones were handsomely pronounced; his lips were full, yet they were a line against his face. His eyes were sharp, the color of the sky…and he grinned a little, and the sun burst out. But he couldn’t be who she thought he was. No, there were tiny lines about his eyes, about his lips. He was an older man, a much older man….Older man, hell! He was still young, shockingly vibrant even as he stood, the power of his muscles visible as he adjusted his stance, a pulse ticking at the base of his neck where his open sport shirt parted.

Dear God, no! It couldn’t be because he was dead, had been dead….This was a ghost—a damned ghost standing in her doorway. She was crazy. She had been playing with memories in the attic too long.

“May I come in, Kim?” he said softly.

She let out a scream that echoed throughout the house, reverberated to the rafters, soared into oblivion.

Once again she passed out cold—because the sun had returned.

S
HE WAS LYING ON
something soft but a little lumpy: the living-room sofa in front of the bay window. She opened her eyes, and although what had happened still seemed impossible—an excerpt from
The Outer Limits
—she was shocked yet aware. Her eyes lit first on Josh, and absurdly, so absurdly, her first thought was that he had crawled up the back of the sofa and was sitting on her just-returned French upholstery with his wet bathing suit….

“Kim, are you okay?” Deep. Masculine. A touch of velvet. Brian’s voice. Slightly husky, gentle, yet assured…Always assured. A ghost’s voice…A ghost was holding her hand. It couldn’t be…It was…

She blinked and turned her head to the left. Yes, it was Brian. Yet not Brian. Not the Brian she had known…This was a different man and very much a man. His voice was gentle, a rustle of velvet, deep, deeper than before. He had always been well built, but now he was somehow larger yet leaner. His shoulders had become very broad; his waist and hips extremely trim. Beneath that vee of his open-necked sport shirt she could see that the hair on his chest had become thick and no longer a yellow gold but rather a honey. His hair was a little long.
Men don’t wear their hair quite so long these days, Brian,
she wanted to tell him.

But the biggest difference was his face, his eyes. His features were almost gaunt, very angular. Still strong, but stronger. There was a look of hardness about him, steel and stone. Those lines about his eyes and his mouth. Brian had lips that were full, not so easily compressed; they were giving; they twisted into smiles. And his eyes were the color of the sky, not indigo pools, sharp, heated yet slightly chilling, keen. They had become rays of heat that permeated the soul.

It was Brian. Yes, it was Brian. But not the Brian she had known, not the Brian she remembered. In her mind he had remained the same. This Brian had changed. She had changed….

“I suppose I should have called you first or done something. I realize this must be a terrible shock.” He was speaking again, and she was still just staring at him.

Because you’re a ghost! Don’t you see, Brian, you’re a ghost, and I don’t know you anymore….

“You said that he was dead!”

Kim blinked and stared at Jacob, hovering behind Brian’s back. The words were full of reproach. Her son,
her
son—she had reared him for twelve years—was staring at her as if she had committed murder.

“He was—” She defended herself stupidly. How had the twins known, simply known, instinctively? Surely only minutes had passed; suddenly she was the stranger, staring at the three who were so alike.

Brian chuckled, and Kim realized with a resentment she tried to bury with logic that the mere sound of his voice eased the growing tension. “It wasn’t your mother’s fault, Jake. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Actually”—he winked at his son—“I was dead, legally dead, that is, until a few days ago. Talk about a strange experience; I had to go to court to have myself declared alive.”

This was impossible; there was a marker in the cemetery. “Brian Drew Trent, Sergeant, USAF, 1950–1972.” A bronze vase above the military plaque. “Beloved Son, Husband, and Father.” His dog tags were upstairs. Some body was in that pine box….

She couldn’t talk. She saw clearly, yet the world was spinning; she couldn’t think or feel…“How…where…?”

“Long story,” he murmured, cocking his head slightly, indicating the twins. “I just came in from Arizona. Before that I was in France, before that Thailand, before that Nam.”

Her mouth must have formed a question because he nodded. Yes, all that time. All that time he had been somewhere in the jungle and then getting back, coming home. But she should have been notified. She had been placing flowers on his grave once a month with his sons while he was in Arizona having himself declared alive without informing her.

Kim sat up, then lay back down. He was sitting beside her hip, and trying to move placed her almost touching him, eye to eye with him, and she wasn’t ready for that. She could feel the brush of his thigh against her and it seemed to radiate like heated steel.

He wasn’t even looking at her anymore. His eyes were on his sons, going from one identical face to the other. The pain and loss within the deep blue of his eyes were phenomenal, and she empathized with what he was feeling even as he kept himself in great control. He was studying his children, trying to take twelve years of life and assimilate it in seconds.

Joshua and Jacob were chattering, their words not registering in her mind. It didn’t matter; she could see in their young faces exactly what they were feeling:
We have
a
father! After all these years we do have a father. And he is better than dreams! Better than anything in a superhero comic book. Better than anything.

They both were talking at once, answering the questions he asked, looking as if they wanted to touch him but were afraid to. And then Josh, who had always considered himself the more mature because he had entered the world two minutes ahead of Jake, broke into tears, and she might have been a doormat because he was crawling all over her to get into his father’s arms.

It was a beautiful moment for her sons. She knew that as long as they lived, Josh and Jake would remember these special seconds in intricate detail. Her own lids were stinging with tears, and she was so happy for her sons that she thought she would pass out again.

And she was happy for Brian. She saw his face above Joshua’s shoulders. His eyes were closed so tightly. His hand, long and broad with the fingers with the little tufts of blond hair and neatly trimmed nails, were gently around the boy’s neck, shaking. He kept swallowing and swallowing, and a tiny pulse ticked in his clean-shaven cheek.

Why was she on the outside of this reunion? she wondered. She was glad, very glad, that he was alive, that he was here. Why couldn’t she, the way the boys had, simply reach out to him. But she knew why. It had been too many years, and they were strangers, and she didn’t know what she felt for him any more than she knew what he felt for her.

What was she to do? The question was left unanswered as the crying finally stopped. Though Josh and Jake kept touching Brian when they spoke, as if they were afraid he would disappear, they were laughing again. Brian was taking the conversation back to lighter ground. He was questioning them about themselves again, and they were arguing as they answered. Something came up about the pool which she had added on only a few years ago and was still paying for, and Jake was on his feet, grabbing his father’s hand and insisting that Brian come see.

“Sounds nice,” Brian said, and Kim saw that he could still smile that smile which was as compelling as a summer day, and he was on his feet but drawing back slightly. “I’ll come out and see it with you. Then I need you both to do me a big favor and entertain yourselves. I need to speak with your mother.”

“Your mother.” Why did his tone, his choice of words leave her feeling as if she had been shot through by arrows? She stared up at him and caught his eyes on her. They were both keen and clouded, like a one-way mirror. He could see through her, but he couldn’t be penetrated.

“But, Dad—”

She saw his hidden smile again as Jake addressed him. How wonderful it must have been for him to hear himself called Dad. And Jake used the word as if he had had a father all his life. He said it well, so naturally.

Brian had walked in off the street, and in two seconds his sons had accepted him. They had recognized him when she had not. It was wonderful for them. They deserved the father they had known only through her and their grandparents.

“Don’t worry.” Brian laughed, tousling Jake’s hair and placing a hand on Josh’s shoulder. “We’ve lost years, but we will have years to make them up.”

They started walking from the living room through the formal dining room to the stretch of family room and kitchen that led to the screened patio and pool.

Kim was still lying on the sofa, still in shock. She sat up slowly, holding her head between her hands.

“By the way, Mom,” Josh demanded, turning back toward her, “what’s for dinner?”

Dinner! Who the hell could think of dinner at a time like this? Josh, yes, and Jacob. Twelve-year-old boys who grew like weeds were always thinking of dinner. And dinner, oh, God, yes, it would give her something to do, make her function as her mind and her heart swirled.

“Sloppy Joes,” she answered automatically.

“Sloppy Joes?” Joshua was indignant. He raised a brow, so like his father’s, implying that she was behaving in the poorest taste. “Dad’s first night home, and we’re having Sloppy Joes?”