Almost a Family (4 page)

He balanced on a highback wicker barstool like a predator against the backdrop of a flowered meadow. Nevertheless, he looked casual and comfortable, able to charm a room full of furniture into accommodating him.

"How long have you lived here?" he asked.

"Going on four years."

He pointed to the porcelain sink and antique faucet. "This place has character."

She smiled. "All the old houses do."

"Can I get a tour?"

She hesitated, but he was already unfolding himself to explore. She went from room to room, her pride growing as she illuminated a dining room, living room, and small library accented sparingly with lustrous antiques and plush fabrics. She couldn't help but compare her hand-picked treasures to the blue-light specials they'd lived on in the aged farmhouse. But they'd been happy... for a while....

Slowly they circled the first floor, making their way back to the entry hall. He paused before the staircase and asked, "Are the bedrooms upstairs?"

Virginia nodded, but made no move toward the second floor.

Bailey shifted his weight to his other foot. "Do you have a room for Bailey, Jr.?"

"Well, my guest room isn't exactly a boy's dream, but I guess it'll do for now."

"Oh?" Bailey's eyebrows shot up. "Are you planning to move?"

"No. I meant the room will do until I can redecorate it for him." She experienced a niggling of awareness, a dawning of the implications of discussing bedrooms with her handsome ex-husband. In the next instant she discarded the thought. He simply wanted to know where his son would be sleeping, that's all.

"Maybe I can do something to help," he offered. "Build some bookshelves or something?"

She nodded, the silent seconds stretching into a cavernous minute. Clearing her throat, she asked, "Want to take a look?"

"Sure."

She gripped the banister tightly, her feet automatically landing on the spots where the floorboards did not creak or complain as she climbed. At the top of the stairs she turned left and led him to a small bedroom draped with pink and cream curtains, and a comforter, complete with lacy pillows. Bailey winced.

"I know," she said in an apologetic voice. "But it'll suffice."

"He could stay with me—"

"No!" At his startled glance, Virginia amended hurriedly, "I mean, no, there couldn't be room at your place."

His frown confirmed her statement, then he offered a halfhearted grin. "But I do have a nice, plain brown couch that sleeps pretty good. Do you work at home?" he asked, effectively tabling the issue of his living accommodations. He pointed into the room across the hall. A desk and computer workstation dominated the shadowed room.

"Sometimes." She walked over and switched on the office light.

Following, he peered in. "Nice setup." Something caught his eye, and Virginia's heart vaulted when he entered the room and picked up a framed photograph from a credenza. He smoothed a finger across the glass. "I remember taking this picture," he said, his voice scratchy.

Virginia blinked rapidly. She didn't have to see it—she'd memorized every detail in the photo of her holding Bailey, Jr., in her arms outside the hospital, just before they'd driven him home. She'd worn a loose yellow jump suit, and he'd been bundled in pale blue. Her heart had been full to bursting. But even more vivid than her emotions on that day had been the splitting grin of happiness on Bailey's face as he adjusted the camera lens.
Smile. Wave to Daddy. Smile, Mommy.

"Did you keep other pictures?" he asked, his voice stronger.

She hesitated, then walked to a closet in the converted bedroom and withdrew a large photo album. Carefully, she wiped and blew the dust from the cover, its faded golden letters proclaiming "Our Son." With trembling hands she opened the album, vaguely aware that Bailey stood just behind her, looking over her shoulder.

Memories slammed into her, leaving her shaken, but with fewer tears than the last few hundred times she'd thumbed through the pages. A younger, smiling Bailey feeding the baby a bottle, giving him a bath, changing his diaper—breaking all the macho-daddy rules. How long had it been since she'd tortured herself with the faded pictures of her infant son, so beautiful and trusting?

From the pages, a sheet of folded paper escaped, floating to the floor. As Bailey bent to retrieve it, Virginia realized with a nervous jolt it was the letter he'd sent her two years before. She remembered now... that night had been the last time she'd looked through the baby album.

Her heart thumped against her chest at the implication of her keeping the letter. Bailey retrieved the sheet, straightening as he unfolded it, his face transforming from confusion to... something... when he recognized what he held in his hand. His gaze met hers, and long-slumbering emotions stirred in her heart with the fierceness of a drowsy giant awakening.

"I wondered if you'd gotten my letter."

She swallowed hard. "I got it."

He opened his month to speak, but the shrill beep of the coffee-maker downstairs interrupted. Suddenly exhaustion weakened her limbs. She lifted her gaze to Bailey, and attempted a weak smile. "I'm sorry, Bailey, but I have to get some rest."

"Sure," he said agreeably. "I'll take a rain check on the coffee."

They walked wordlessly down the stairway together, her heart tripping double time as she stopped to let him move ahead to a safe distance.

He turned to stare at her, filling up her entryway with denim and attitude. "Well, I guess I'll say good night."

"I'll see you tomorrow at the airport," she said.

He nodded. "Tomorrow."

She stood awkwardly, not knowing the proper ex-spouse etiquette for late night departures after earth-shattering news. "Good night, then."

He turned and opened the door, giving entry to a warm, fragrant breeze that teased the ends of his ponytail.

Virginia stepped to the door and held the knob as he walked out. At the last second he turned back and lifted his hand to rub a rough thumb over her cheekbone. The intimate contact startled her, and she instinctively drew back. He dropped his hand and smiled.

"Tomorrow we see our son, Ginny." Then he was gone before she could reply.

She closed the door, but waited until the sound of his rumbling engine faded before she moved.

No, no,
no
... she couldn't have feelings for him still. She'd been down this road before and heartache lay at the end. Tomorrow she would be thinking more clearly. Tomorrow she would be strong and resistant to his charms. Tomorrow she would have enough to worry about just being a mother. Virginia climbed the stairs, weak-kneed and light-headed.

She didn't dare think past tomorrow.

* * *

"Bailey, are you drunk?"

He whooped and lifted Rita off the floor, whirling her around. "Stone sober since Ginny told me the news."

His sister's look of disbelief transformed into pure delight. "Oh, Bailey!" She clasped him in a tight hug. When she released him, tears shone in her eyes. "After all these years... this is incredible!"

He laughed with her, his happiness mushrooming. "It's a miracle all right."

"Virginia—oh, she must be beside herself! Will she... will the two of you... how is she?"

"She's fine." He grappled for some detail that wouldn't betray the revived emotion he felt stirring in his swollen, stupid heart. "She works in computers and is doing well for herself. Has a town home in the Village."

"Does she have other children now?"

"No, she never remarried."

One graceful black eyebrow shot up. "Really."

"Don't start, sis."

"What?" she asked, bringing a hand to her chest, her eyes wide in innocence.

"You know what," he admonished with a stern look. "Don't get any romantic ideas about me and Ginny picking up where we left off. We're completely different people now." He hoped some of his logic would sink into his own hard head.

"Which is precisely why your relationship might work this time."

"Rita—"

"Bailey, you share an eight-year-old son, what better reason could you have for getting back together with Ginny?"

"I know it would be better for him if we were still married," he admitted, "but our marriage wasn't that great, and after all these years she's not going to just welcome me back into her life with open arms, not the way we left things." Guilt stabbed him, and he averted his eyes.

His sister smiled, and touched his hand. "Ginny's a good woman, I'm sure she'd want what's best for—"

"Trust me on this one," he said abruptly. "She wouldn't want me."

Rita blinked, then narrowed her dark eyes at him. "Is there something I don't know? Was there another woman?"

He frowned. "Of course not. I partied a lot, but I was never unfaithful."

"What, then?"

Bailey turned away from her piercing gaze, shame burning in his stomach. "I said some hurtful things to her after the baby disappeared."

"What kinds of things?"

He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. "That... that she was careless—"

"Oh, Bailey—"

"—and not a good mother."

"Oh, God, no, Bailey."

The sorrow in her voice increased the pain swirling in his gut. "I know." He sighed. "It was... unforgivable."

Her arms wrapped around him from behind, and she pressed her cheek against his back. In a soft voice she murmured, "You were hurt and angry and young—"

"And stupid and thoughtless." He ground the words out.

"Have you tried saying you're sorry?"

"Yeah. I wrote her a letter a couple of years ago and told her what a jerk I was."

"And?"

"And nothing. She didn't respond—not that I expected her to. She has every right to hate me."
Although she did keep the letter...

Rita unwound her arms and moved to face him. "You're right," she said, angling her head. "She should hate you. So you've got some serious making up to do."

He pursed his lips, nodding slowly. "I know... but how?"

She smiled and reached forward to squeeze his shoulders with her little hands. "Bailey, there are things more important than being the life of every party. You might even have to give up your reputation of being the biggest lady-killer in town. It's time to grow up, little brother."

Bailey bit the inside of his cheek to allow the flash of anger to subside. Slowly, the warmth of acceptance seeped into his heart. "You're right, sis," he said finally, inhaling deeply. "I've been given a second chance, and I'll try to make the most of it."

A few minutes later Bailey left to drive back to his apartment, still vibrating with nervous energy. On impulse, he turned the car onto the dirt road that led to the north meadow overlooking the pond. He stopped the car and retrieved a flashlight from the glove compartment before climbing out, but when he walked to the top of the hill, the moon shone so bright across the meadow, he switched off the beam. For a long time he simply stood and stared across the lush field, listening to the tall grass whisper in the wind. Silver light gilded the huge old white oak tree that loomed enormous in the exaggeration of shadows, drawing him, as always.

Insects fell silent, then resumed their chirping in rounds as he waded through the dew-laden grass to stand in the silhouette of the Kallihan heirloom tree—his tree. His father had planted it the day Bailey was born, and thirty-three years later, its branches spread wide and inviting, begging to be climbed. At first it had been hard to reconcile the sentimental act with his hard-nosed father, whom he missed dearly, but Bailey had come to realize his father had possessed a soft center. Out of respect and love, Bailey had taken a single acorn from the immense tree and planted it the day his own son came into the world.

He turned slowly and walked toward the smaller tree growing several yards away. Bailey, Jr., had already been snatched from their lives by the time the tiny sprout had emerged from the ground. His heart had nearly broken each time he visited the tree, but he'd nursed it determinedly. Despite a fragile beginning, it now stood tall and straight as a sword, casting a fifteen-foot shadow, its leaves rustling in the night breeze. Decades from now its branches would spread to meet those of the older tree. Long after he left this earth, his and his son's trees would live and touch and breathe. The thought filled his veins with deep satisfaction.

He crouched and lowered himself to the ground to sit beneath the canopy of the smaller tree, then leaned back against the rough bark. He and Ginny had planned to build a home in the meadow and raise their son here. Instead, they'd all been scattered in separate directions.

From what he could gather of Ginny's current tastes, he doubted if she would've been happy for long with the simple home design they'd chosen years earlier. He probably still had the dog-eared blueprints somewhere. Lot of good they would do, except remind him of what he'd had, of what he'd thrown away. Even if he did manage to get his life back on track, Ginny was probably lost to him forever.

Or was she?

Sitting amid the sweet-smelling grass under his son's tree, he suddenly realized he'd been given a miracle today and right now anything seemed possible, even a notion as remote as having Virginia Catron's love again.

Bailey felt a boulder of grief and guilt slide from his chest. His shoulders drooped in relief, and his cheeks felt wet. He tilted his head and gazed up through the branches into the star-winking heavens. "Thanks," he whispered.

Chapter 3