Foster Brother's Arms (5 page)

Raine

Now…

I’ll sue her for custody.  Between my team of lawyers and the fact that Lana has spent the past nine years of her life as a prostitute, there’s no way she’ll stand a chance.   I’ll strip everything from her—even weekends, birthdays and holidays—until she has no part in his life.

Even after everything she put me through, I’ve never once unleashed my cruelty on her.  But all that’s about to change.  I’ll make her pay, and I’ll have my son back. And then once I have him, I’ll poison his mind against Lana, so she won’t even have that much, not even a place in his heart.  She took everything from me, and now I’ll do the same to her.

These are the thoughts I console myself with the entire plane ride back from Vegas.  But when I arrive home, an odd thing happens.

All my anger has bled away, leaving me feeling nothing but utter, wretched loneliness.  The feeling is so intense, so acute, I think I might die from it. 

When Lana left me all those years ago, something inside me broke, making it impossible for me to feel.  But when I saw that picture of my son, I felt a powerful rush of pain coupled with longing and loss, and a hint of something else entirely. Pride. 

I felt it all so deeply the experience was almost foreign to me.  Deep and cutting and raw.

Ever since Lana left me in the restaurant that night, I’ve been deluged by emotion after emotion.  All of them unbearable. 

I don’t know what to do with them all.  But I do know that I have to see Lana again.  My cruel words at the restaurant were in the heat of the moment.  Surely she’ll understand that and invite me to see my son.  Won’t she?

With that thought in mind, I call her escort service and ask for her.  They have no record of anyone named Lana working there, which makes sense.  Of course she wouldn’t use her real name in that line of work.  So I give them my name and the details of my date with her so they can look her up that way.  If they aren’t willing to give me her contact information, I’ll simply book another date with her and apologize then.

After clicking through records, the receptionist says, “Your date was with Chanel.  I’m sorry to tell you that she’s left our agency, but I can set you up with a girl you’ll like just as much.  I see that you—“

“Give me Lana—Chanel’s—phone number and I’ll give you ten thousand dollars in cash by the end of today.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t to that.”

“Fifty thousand.”

“She didn’t leave any forwarding information, and we’re not exactly the kind of business that keeps detailed employee records.  We contact all our girls with throw away cell phones and we don’t know their real names.  It prevents any legal issues, you see.  But honey, if you’ve got fifty thousand dollars burning a hole in your pocket, I could give you a lot more than a phone number.  I’ll do anything you want. ”

“Unless you can give me Chanel’s address or a lead of some kind, there’s nothing more I require.”

“That’s all I’ve got on Chanel.  I wish I had more.”

“Thank you, then.”
For nothing.
I click off the call and slam the phone down on my desk. 

Fuck.

So this is it then?  After all this time, I find Lana again only to lose her forever?

No, this won’t do.  I have contacts in Vegas, powerful ones. I know a few good private investigators.  And I have copious amounts of money.

I have to find her again, no matter what it takes. 

Lana

Now…

It feels good to do homework again.  It’s been a long time.  Today Sam and I sit together at the kitchen table, me working on my nursing homework and him working on his book report.

After everything that happened with Raine, I knew it was finally time for me to make a big change.  I’d been saving for years, accumulating quite a nest egg so I could go back to school once Sam was a little older and more independent. 

But after the way Raine looked at me when he talked about my job, how ashamed it made me feel, I knew it was finally time to move on.  Even though I’d been an escort for years, I’d never grown used to it.

The one good thing it afforded me was the means to give Sam a comfortable life, and the ability to spend a lot of time with him. After all I’d been through, I didn’t trust anyone else to care for him like I did. 

Getting up to $10,000 a date was a big payday, and I always tried to stretch my income so I could get by with as few jobs as possible.  Still, I lived in fear of Sam ever finding out what I did for a living—I could hardly bear to think of it. And I’d always hoped to one day start a career that would make him proud.

And that was why I was now working on my nursing degree. Once I started a nursing job, the hours would be intense, and I’d need to hire child care for Sam while I was working, but my financials were now such that I could do it.  And I would make sure he was safe—that was the most important thing.

But I needed to do this, needed to make this change.  Not just for Sam but for me too. I’d been in this life too long.  I deserved better. 

“Mommy, what’s this word?” asks Sam, holding his book out to me.

“Sound it out.”

“Mis…give…ing.  Mis-giving. What does that mean?”

“A misgiving is a scared feeling that something bad might happen if you act a certain way.  Like if someone were to cheat on a test, they might have misgivings that they’ll get in trouble or they might not learn what they need to.”

“Ah, I get it,” Sam says, going back to his book.  We’re interrupted by the doorbell.  I haven’t ordered pizza and there’s no good reason for anyone to come to the house at this time, so I feel a few misgivings of my own as I walk to the door.

I look out the peephole, and my breath catches when I see who’s standing on my porch.

I open the door.

Raine smiles that devastatingly sexy smile of his.

“Hey,” I say, leaning against the doorjamb. “What are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?” he asks.

“Sure.” I move out of the way and he walks past me.  Sam is in the other room, at the kitchen table.  I’m completely unprepared to make an introduction so I call out, “Sam, why don’t you go into your bedroom and work on your art.  Mommy has company.”

“Okay!” he calls out.

Raine and I wander into the kitchen, where books are still spread out on the kitchen table.

“Can I get you something to drink?” I ask. “Coffee maybe? I just brewed a pot.”

“Sure, I’ll take a cup.”

Happy for the distraction, I grab a mug from the cabinet and start to pour coffee into it.  “So what are you doing here?” I ask again.

“I wanted to talk.  About you and me.  About Sam.  I feel bad about the way we left off, Lana.  I should have reacted better.  I know I sounded like I was judging you, but I was just angry.  Extremely angry. I missed out on so much, and was in the dark for so long. It was hard to take.”

“I understand, and I’m sorry.” I set his coffee in front of him and sit down at the table across from him.

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry,” he says.  “I know you did the best you could. You were only sixteen, and you had nothing.  And yet you were able to raise our son on your own.  I’m sure his life is a lot better than the childhood we had, and all because of you.  This is a lovely house, Lana.  I wasn’t expecting it to be so …homey.”

I glance around my kitchen, trying to see my house from Raine’s eyes.  It’s a standard two bedroom ranch in one of the nicer suburbs, but I’ve tried to make it cozy for Sam.  His artwork covers the fridge, and his awards from school are displayed in frames all over the walls. The tablecloth is decorated with jungle creatures—monkeys, lions and elephants—since Sam is such an animal lover.

“Nursing school, huh?” Raine says as he eyes my textbook on the table. “I heard you quit working at the escort agency.  You wouldn’t believe what I had to do to find you, by the way.  It involved having one of my top security guys hacking into the escort service’s financial information, locating your bank transfer information and tracking you that way.  So if you get any strange alerts from your bank, I’m sorry about that. You shouldn’t though.  My people are very good.” 

“Thanks for the warning, and I’m glad you didn’t get arrested.”

“It would have been worth it.  Plus I have great lawyers. I would have beaten the charges.”  He taps his finger on my nursing textbook.  “I never knew you’d wanted to be a nurse.  Always thought you wanted to be a businesswoman of some kind. So you could come home on Friday night, kick off your heels and complain to your fiancé how overworked you are.”

“I can’t believe you remember that.”

His gaze meets mine and there’s a hint of amusement there. “So why nursing?” he asks. 

“When I had Sam, it was a long and difficult labor.  I still planned on giving him up to an adoption agency, but I’d started to second guess myself.  I couldn’t imagine not being able to see him grow up, but I didn’t know how I’d even begin to take care of him.  I think all the mental anguish made the labor even harder, and the fact that I was all alone.  But there was this nurse who worked there, and she stayed by my side the whole time—even after her shift was over.  She brought me ice chips and rubbed my back and soothed me, and told me stories about how her own children were delivered, and how scared she was since she was a single mom too, but how it had all turned out okay.  I don’t know if I could have gotten through the birth without her kindness—it was the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me, and at a time when I needed it most.  So I thought, maybe someday after Sam was a little older and I’m not hurting for money quite so much, I could go back to school to be a pediatric nurse.  Work with babies and mothers.  And maybe someday I can offer some scared single mom the same comfort that was given to me.”

“I’m glad she was there for you, but God I wish I’d been there, Lana.  I would have given up everything for you. Without question.”

“And that’s why I couldn’t let you.”

He sighs wearily.  “Well now you can let me in. I want to be with you, Lana. I want to be a father to Sam.  I want us to pick up where we left off all those years ago.”  He reaches over and puts his hand over mine.  “Please.  Let’s give this a chance, okay?”

I nod, because in my heart, that’s the only way I could ever possibly answer. “Yes.”

I turn my hand over, thread my fingers through his, and squeeze tight.

“Will Sam know who I am?” he asks.

I shake my head sadly. “No, he’s never seen a picture or anything.  He thinks his father lives far away and can’t be with us because of his job, and he doesn’t ask much about it because he knows I get sad when he does.  But let’s introduce you two, and once you get to know each other a little better, and you’re more familiar to him, we’ll tell him who you are.”

“Do you think he’ll like me?” The vulnerability in Raine’s eyes almost breaks by heart.

“I know he will.”

I watch from the doorway as Raine hesitantly enters Sam’s bedroom.  “I’d like you to meet Mr. Raine,” I say. “He’s an old friend of mommy’s.”

Sam looks up at Raine, checking him out. There’s no denying that Sam is Raine’s son. He looks exactly the same as Raine did at that age.  The same tousled brown hair, thin limbs and elegant bone structure.  The only difference is his eyes.

“He has your eyes,” Raine says to me before sitting down beside Sam on the carpet. 

Raine inquires about Sam’s drawing, then pulls a yellow crayon out of the box and begins coloring with him. They chat companionably about art, school, books and movies they like.  And all the while, my heart melts.

Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d witness a moment like this. Seeing my son with his father.  The two great loves of my life side by side.  It’s like a gift.  One I’ll treasure every moment of my life.

Lana

Six months later…

My heart swells with pride as I watch Sam and Raine walk hand in hand through the Museum of Modern Art.  For years Sam has been begging me to take him to Manhattan so he could see some of the country’s biggest museums.  I’ve never met a ten year old who’s so obsessed with books and art.

As soon as Raine found out that visiting the art museums in New York was one of Sam’s lifelong dreams, he was on the phone booking a trip. But first he allowed a little time for Sam to school him on art history. 

For months they poured over art books together, reading passages to one another and looking over the pictures, discussing their thoughts.  A sight that, more than once, caused a knot to form in my throat. 

Now they both stand before
The Scream
by Edvard Munch.  It’s an intensely sad painting of a lone figure standing on a desolate bridge, its mouth opened in an eternal scream.

I don’t know much about art. In all honesty, most of the paintings here make very little sense to me. I found the older, more realistic pieces at the Met much more engaging.  But I’ve seen this painting many times before.  It’s one of the more famous ones at the museum, and I know the artist is one of Sam’s favorite.  He stands before it, studying it in silence. 

Raine hangs back, standing next to me, which is odd.  The whole time we’ve been here, he’s been side by side with Sam, up close and personal with each painting.

I notice he’s not even looking at this one.  Then he pulls out his phone and absently scrolls through it, something he’s never done before during family time.  I nudge him with my elbow and give him a questioning glance.

He responds with a small shake of his head, then leans closer to me and says quietly, “I don’t like this painting. I know it’s one of Sam’s favorites, but it gives me the creeps.”

I look at it again, surprised.  “Why?” I ask.

“Because I know that feeling all too well. I know exactly what it’s like to scream like that, inside I mean.  To be in complete and utter despair. Every time I see it, it brings me back to…times I’d rather forget.”

I link my arm through his and press myself against him to offer comfort. I know all the things he’d rather forget. I was there. I lived them too.

Since we’ve been reunited, the three of us have been living in the Everly mansion in Maine.  Once Sam and I arrived at our new home, Raine encouraged me to see a therapist for all that I’d been through. It made sense, so I’d agreed to let him schedule a visit. 

I’ve only been in treatment for a few months, but it’s already helping me see my past in new ways and come to terms with some of the darker portions of it.

I make a mental note to encourage Raine to schedule a few sessions of his own.  Our lives are better now than they’ve ever been, but it doesn’t change the hell we lived through to get here.  We both have plenty of scars to work through. 

I’m just glad we’re able to give Sam everything we never had.

Once Sam is done looking at
The Scream
, we head over to the Van Gough exhibit, which I’m especially excited about.  Mainly because he’s one of the few artists here that I’m familiar with.

At the beginning of the exhibit is his most famous painting,
Starry Night
.  Raine likes this one too.  We all do.  We stand there for twenty minutes at least, just taking it in. 

“Why’s this painting so famous?” I ask Sam.

“People find it interesting because of all the movement.” He pushes his glasses back on his nose.  “The clouds and the hills and the swirls of blue—they all seem to be in motion even though it’s a flat canvas.  But I like it because it looks like the night sky is
alive
.”

I put my hands on his small shoulders and look at the painting over his head.  “This reminds me of when your dad and I were sixteen,” I say. “He used to pick me up on his motorcycle at night, and we would drive down this long, winding road toward the beach.  Looking at this picture reminds me of that. The excitement and beauty of those nights.”

“My dad?” Sam tips his head up to eye me curiously. “You never talk about him.”

“Yes I do, I talk about him all the time.  I even talk
to
him all the time.” I turn to Raine. “Don’t I talk to you all the time?”

“You’re talking to me right now,” Raine says with humor in his voice.

Sam looks between us, confused.  Then his eyes light up, and his whole body seems to vibrate with energy. “Holy shit!” he yells.

“Hey! Language please,” I say, trying to hold back a smile.

“Sorry!” Sam says. “But…but…are you serious?”

“I’ve never been more serious in my life,” Raine says. Then he offers Sam an uncertain smile and holds out his arms, and Sam launches himself into them. 

“I knew it!” Sam declares. “I knew you were my real dad!”

I squint at him curiously.  “And how did you know that?”

“Because you said you both knew each other ten years ago, and I’m almost ten—and me and Mr. Raine, I mean
my dad
, we’re both lefties. And we both hate cream cheese and our favorite dessert is cake.”

“It looks like you put it all together pretty well then,” Raine says, amusement warming his voice.

“Plus when we were at the store,” Sam continues. “A lady said ‘your son looks exactly like you.’ And you said ‘thank you.’ So that’s when I started to think, hey, maybe this guy is my real dad.”

“We do look quite a bit alike,” Raine tells him.

“We do,” Sam agrees. “I must have gotten most of your genes because we’re both men.”

I try to hold back my amusement and cast a quick glance at Raine, who’s clearly trying to do the same thing.

For months he and I had stressed about when and how to tell Sam about Raine being his dad. Raine had relocated us to Maine quickly, and we wanted to give Sam time to adjust before dropping such a big bombshell on him.  Then we’d begun to worry that he’d be angry we didn’t tell him sooner, but it looks like our fears were unwarranted.

Sam prattles on as we make our way through the rest of the Van Gogh exhibit, though his attention now seems more focused on our new family dynamic than on the art.  A first for my art-obsessed son.
Our
art-obsessed son.

I turn to Raine and see that his attention is elsewhere, on a couple across the room.  They’re a little younger than us, college students maybe.  She’s lovely, with long red hair and a stylish blue dress, and he looks like a Brooklyn hipster.

Suddenly I feel plain, with my newly dyed brown hair, conservative dress and sensible shoes.

When Raine informed me about the trip to New York, he told me to buy some new clothes and anything else I’d like.

I’d needed my roots touched up, but after spending years dying my hair light blonde and wearing clothes that left nothing to the imagination, I was tired of the way I looked.  Tired of dressing in clothes designed to make men want to fuck me.

So I toned down my hair by dying it chestnut brown, but with plenty of layers and some lowlights to make me look elegant rather than dowdy. And I had a shopper at Maine’s most high end boutique help me select a wardrobe that made me look classy and sophisticated.

It wasn’t until I arrived home and took out my new dresses that I began to worry that Raine wouldn’t find me sexy enough. That he’d find my brown hair and my conservative dresses boring.

Of course, I had nothing to fear. Once he saw my freshly dyed locks, it was clear I had nothing to worry about.  He looked at me with love shining in his eyes and without a word, held out his hand and took me to the bedroom, where he proceeded to show me just how sexy he found me for the next three hours.

But as I look at the pretty red head who doesn’t seem to notice us, I can’t help but wonder if Raine finds me lacking. He looks back at me, notices me noticing the other girl he’s been staring at. He shakes his head.

“I knew her for a little while,” he says. “Her name is Jess.  She’s a distant relation to my adoptive family, and she stayed at the Everly mansion for a short time.”

I can tell there’s more to it, but I don’t press him for details.

“It’s a long story.  I’ll tell you about it sometime if you’d like.  But she seemed to be with someone at the time, a young guy named Blaze.  She’s not with him now though, so I imagine they’ve both moved on.  But he seemed to care for her, so I hope they find each other again someday.”  His eyes cut to mine. “Like we did.”

He takes my hand in his, and suddenly I don’t feel insecure any longer. Just the opposite. “Lovely Lana,” he says as he brings my hand to his lips and kisses it. “Have I told you how happy you make me?”

“I have a pretty good idea,” I tell him as we follow Sam through the museum. “Thank you, Raine.  For everything. For coming into Sam’s life, and for all the times you saved me.”

“I think we both saved each other.” He puts his arm around me and pulls me close, then leans down and kisses my forehead. “Now, let’s see where our son is taking us next. There’s a lot we still have to see.”