The Homecoming (7 page)

Her fingers flew, separating and gathering small sections of hair, braiding it into a single smooth line starting at the crown of her head. She'd lifted her arms above her head and the motion pulled her shirt taut against the lower curves of small, pert breasts. Her arms were graceful curves, the whole picture so quintessentially feminine that Danny found himself battling the urge to cross the room and put his arms around her.

Her hair was shoulder-length and by the time she got to the nape of her neck, there were no more loose strands. Deftly, she twisted the elastic around the bottom of the braid several times until it was tight.

She dropped the comb and turned around again. “There,” she said. “Less than two minutes.”

“You're, uh, good at that,” he said, and had to clear his throat. He'd thought she was pretty before, but with all her hair back away from her face, the smooth, oval perfection of her patrician features was revealed. Wide blue eyes beneath finely arched brows, a small straight nose and the full bow of her lips. High cheekbones that emphasized the fragility of her face.

“Lots of practice.” She smiled at him, and the expression crinkled her eyes and invited him to share in her amusement. She turned and picked up a small backpack-style bag, which she slung over one shoulder. “Okay. I'm ready.”

 

She'd never thought about how loud a helicopter flight would be. Fortunately, the pilot Danny had engaged had three headsets that muffled the noise even as it permitted him to talk about the geographical wonders over which they flew.

After a quick pass over the tiny bulk of Nanilani, with its black cliffs and golden sand beaches, the pilot flew west, over the privately owned island of Ni'ihau. A shield volcano had erupted there once, the pilot informed them, and much of the wider northern end of the heavily forested, sparsely populated island was formed by low-rise cinder cones and lava flows. All the western islands, he explained, were no longer part of the active volcanic region. Far older than the young, fiery islands to the southeast, Ni'ihau, Kauai and Nanilani were actually in the slow process of eroding back into the sea from which they'd been born. The string
of tiny islands that could be seen stretching even farther west, including Midway and the Pearl and Hermes atolls, names she recognized from her high-school history class, were even farther along in the process of being cannibalized by the ocean.

The pilot didn't spend much time on Ni'ihau before heading due north for a flyby of a tiny islet, Lehua Rock. Looking like a giant crab claw, Lehua's sea-breached semicircle was all that remained of a volcanic crater from ages past. It was both fascinating and utterly alien.

After Lehua, the plane veered east toward Kauai. As the cottony puffs of clouds receded and Kauai came into full view, she caught her breath. The island was lovely. The corner of her eye spotted a movement and she turned to meet Danny's eyes.

Wow,
he mouthed, and she grinned, nodding her head. Wow, indeed. And not just wow to the air tour, she thought. Every time she met Danny's intense blue eyes, she felt a little
zing
of recognition or attraction. And if she were honest, arousal as well. The man was so gorgeous he made her want to pant. And that kiss…An involuntary shiver chased itself down her spine. She could spend the rest of her life kissing Danny Crosby. Among other things.

Ah. Other things. Besides recalling the fact that she wasn't married, had never been, she'd given little thought to her level of experience with the opposite sex. But now she realized that she also knew she wasn't a virgin.

Oh, she wasn't a slut, but she hadn't had much sexual experience. Just one semi-serious relationship in college with… She waited for the memory to reform. Micah. That had been his name. She'd thought for a while she might be in love with him, but they'd drifted apart after graduation with no rancor and even less desire to put in the work necessary to maintain a relationship.

Since then, she'd dated steadily but not seriously. Or at least she had until her son came along—

The thought stopped her abruptly. That one gaping hole still left in her memory was making her far more uneasy than it should. Why couldn't she remember Nick's birth? Had he been adopted, as she was beginning to suspect? And if so, why would she have chosen to adopt a child as a young single woman? There was something…something just beyond her reach that was important. Or at least she thought so.

She wished she knew the whole story so she could share it with Danny. They were crossing a short stretch of ocean between Lehua and Kauai now, and she turned and glanced at the object of her thoughts.

He was watching her.

That simple meeting of their eyes doubled her heartbeat but she forced herself to ignore it. She smiled at him, indicated the window where the islands and whitecaps lay beneath them and mouthed, “Thank you.”

He smiled back and the expression lit his face with extraordinary charm. He didn't smile often, but usu
ally was sober and hard to read, his handsome features set in granite. But oh, when he smiled… It transformed his handsome features. His blue eyes danced, and her foolish heart was sure there was a special softness hidden there meant just for her.

Then he reached over and took her hand where it lay on the armrest of the seat. Raising it to his lips, he pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it as he watched her steadily.

She had to close her eyes for a second when the warmth of his mouth touched her skin. Desire, bright and blinding, rose in a rush, urging her to unbuckle her seatbelt and climb right over there into his lap.

But it didn't matter, she reminded herself. She'd be leaving later in the day, and although he'd been a most gracious host, she knew she would never see him again. His eyes might tell her that he wished things were different, but Danny wrapped his isolation around himself like a blanket holding the chill at bay. And now that she understood all the harrowing experiences that had shaped his life, she had to respect his decision to keep his life placid, pleasant—and utterly devoid of any emotional entanglement.

The pilot spoke again and she returned her attention to the view beyond their flying bubble. Kauai, he said, had forty-three beaches strung around it, more per mile than any of the other six major islands. Its western coast lay before them, the fifteen-mile stretch of sand beaches pounded by some of the most treacherous surf on the island. The beaches were generally
sun-kissed and beautiful, although along the wild and inaccessible coastline there, they were rarely visited. It was easy to see why, as the helicopter flew over verdant, two-thousand-foot-high cliffs that had been so heavily eroded they reminded her of the fluted edges of a pie crust or a rumpled blanket. Their name, the Na Pali range, meant cliffs in Hawaiian.

While the coastal areas were quite dry, she was astonished to learn that the peak of Wai'ale'ale, visible in the middle of the island, bore the distinction of being the wettest spot on Earth. As they continued eastward, her mouth suddenly fell open. They were flying over a deep, heavily eroded canyon that reminded her strongly of Arizona's Grand Canyon. She pointed down, raising her eyebrows at Danny questioningly. He shot her another grin, accompanied by a “don't ask me” shrug of his shoulders, and she felt that funny little hitch in her heartbeat again.

Their pilot had caught her gesture. They were over Waimea Canyon, he explained. He pointed out a rainbow shimmering in the mist to their right, and then took them down for an adrenaline thrill as they appeared to maneuver almost between some of the jutting peaks.

She was enchanted. Waterfalls spouted from the cliff walls and fell to the valley floor. And though they continued on around Kauai, nothing else she saw could compare to the wild, romantic appeal of the canyon.

A lot like her host.

She was very much afraid that no matter how many
men she met after she returned home, none of them would touch her heart or draw her body's response like the lonely, unexpectedly irresistible man she'd found on a small, isolated island.

D
anny was quiet once they were back on the ground. She'd thanked him effusively after they'd climbed out of the helicopter, and she thought perhaps she'd embarrassed him.

Or maybe he just couldn't wait to get rid of her. She checked the clock on the hall table. Dr. Atada would be arriving at three to take her back to Kauai. She should just go on up and get her things. A short and sweet leave-taking would definitely be for the best, she thought, an ache in her throat.

But as she turned toward the stairs, Danny caught her elbow. “Sydney, I—”

“Thank you again,” she said quickly. “I'll go bring down my bags.”

“I asked Johnny to bring down your suitcase,” he told her. “Leilani made us a late lunch on the lanai. Would you like to have one last meal here before you go?”

Sydney stared up at him, trying to read his expression. He was a confusing mass of contradictions. One minute she'd swear he couldn't wait to get rid of her, the next he seemed to be begging for her company. She could only hope that meant she sent him into the same kind of tailspin that his presence had done to her.

It doesn't matter,
she reminded herself fiercely. Aloud, she said, “That sounds lovely. Thank you.”

The meal was as beautifully presented and unique as always. Danny informed her it was called lomi salmon, a chilled salad mix of raw, salted salmon, tomatoes and onions. Leilani had asked her yesterday if she liked sushi, and Sydney now realized why she'd asked. The salad was delicious. For dessert, there was a Jell-O ring studded with Methley plums, a local delicacy harvested at Kohe'e State Park.

As Leilani carefully placed the dessert mold on the table after clearing their lunch plates, the Jell-O wiggled lightly. Sydney turned her head to look fully at it—

And was stunned by a vivid wave of memory bursting through her like the sea through a hole in a boat.

The ring in the middle of the Jell-O…a hole in a boat…
Her
boat!

“Danny,” she blurted. “I know how I got here.”

He looked at her, clearly interested. “You remember it?”

She nodded. “I just did. It was the Jell-O.” Her voice trailed away as the import of all the memories racing through her fully registered. Dear God. Danny—

His voice intruded. “Sydney, what's wrong? What are you recalling?” He laid his hand over her suddenly chilled fingers and squeezed lightly.

“Oh, Danny,” she said miserably, “I know why I wanted to see where you live, and why I wanted to meet you. I rented a speedboat. It took me almost all day to find someone who would let me take a boat out alone—”

“And he shouldn't have,” Danny said grimly. “The ocean is vastly different from anything you were used to before.”

She nodded. “I got caught in a strong current and carried onto the reef just offshore. The coral tore a hole in the boat and it went down so fast…. One moment I was wrestling with the motor, the next I was in the water.”

“You're incredibly lucky,” he said, his voice harsh. “You could have been ripped to shreds on that coral, or swept right on past the island into one of the Pacific currents.” He stopped abruptly, his tone altering. “You wanted to meet me?”

Too late, she realized this wasn't the way to tell him. But she'd been so shaken by the return of the memories she'd just blurted it out. Her throat was so tight she couldn't speak, and she just stared at him, wondering how to tell him why she'd come.

“Sydney,” he said in an implacable tone. “How did you know my name and why was it so important to see where I lived that you took a chance with your life like that?”

She cleared her throat. Quietly, she said, “I didn't intend to contact you this way. But I had hoped to meet with you while I was in Hawaii.” She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath, wondering how she was going to live with the hurt her suspicions would bring. “Danny…I believe my adopted son, Nicholas, is your Noah.”

 

He couldn't believe his ears. He'd thought she was so special, had been so attracted to her. And all the time she was nothing but a fortune hunter. Fury rose, swift and boiling. “And let me guess,” he said with heavy sarcasm. “For the small sum of what? One million? Two? You'll let me have him without a court battle? Or has the price gone up in the past couple of years?” He pushed back his chair so abruptly it crashed backward onto the stone floor of the lanai. “You don't honestly think you're the first person who's tried to hoodwink me with a fake kid, do you?” He laughed, a bark of sound devoid of any humor. “You know, the first time—hell, even the second—I believed it. I wanted Noah back so badly that I'd have believed anything. But after the fifth time I'd gotten pretty wise to the tricks. Just goes to show I've been hiding away too long since I didn't recognize you for what you were.”

“Danny, no,” she said, a quaver in her voice, and he
steeled his heart against the plea in her soft eyes. “I don't want your money.”

“Right.”

“I don't!” She sounded a little indignant now. Playing it just right, he thought bitterly. “All I want is for you to take a DNA test that will prove whether or not my suspicions are correct.” Her voice hitched and she paused, pressing the back of her hand against her mouth for a moment until she'd regained control. “I couldn't live with myself if I denied my son the chance to be reunited with his real father.” Her voice dropped. “And you with your son.”

No. She was lying. She might be pretending she didn't want money, but she'd change her tune once she thought she'd hooked him into believing her. They all did. Noah was dead, had probably been dead for several years by now. Without the heart surgery he'd needed, he wouldn't have stood a chance.

Pain he thought he'd managed to shut in a forgotten box seared him and he actually reached out for the door frame to steady himself. He couldn't look at Sydney anymore.

“You won't be going to Kauai this afternoon,” he informed her.

Behind him, she said, “I won't?” in a startled voice.

“You're not going anywhere until the police talk to you.”

 

“Please,” Leslie Logan said. “We want to know everything you can find out about his past. His parents.
Any other family. His childhood, what schools he attended, who his friends were…” She bit her lip fiercely as her eyes welled with tears.

Terrence Logan put one arm around his wife's shaking shoulders. “Can you help us?” he asked the private investigator.

The man shrugged. “I can try. But there are no guarantees in this kind of work.”

“We understand that,” Terrence said.

“Now tell me everything you know about this…” He consulted his notes. “Everett Baker.”

“He was an employee of Children's Connection, the adoption and infertility treatment program that's been our special project for years,” Terrence said. “He was arrested for kidnapping babies and adopting them out to wealthy people for astronomical sums of money.”

“You already know our firstborn son was abducted at the age of six. About a year later we were told his body had been found. Now we learn that our son didn't die.” Leslie carefully dabbed beneath her eyes one final time, then straightened her shoulders.

“And this Baker says he's your son?” the P.I. asked.

Terrence nodded.

“I know what you're thinking.” Leslie leaned forward. “Fortune hunter, right? But we're already convinced he's our son, based on things he's spoken of that no one else could possibly have known. We simply want you to fill in the blanks.”

“Why don't you just ask him to take a DNA test?”

“We will,” Leslie said, “but we want to know more about him before we discuss that.”

“He's been accused of a crime,” Terrence said bluntly. “And we don't believe he would willingly have done the things he's accused of without someone else leading him on. We need information because we plan to provide for Robbie—for Everett's defense.”

“I'll have to check your information,” the investigator said almost apologetically. “I'll only take on the case if I believe you have a legitimate reason for wanting information about this young man.” He grimaced. “I've had too many enraged spouses in my office wanting background on someone for the sole purpose of harming them in some way.”

Terrence nearly smiled. “We appreciate ethical convictions. That only convinces me you're the right person for the job.”

“Our lives are an open book,” Leslie said. “Would you like us to give you the names of people you can talk with about us?”

The man nodded. “That would be helpful, Mrs. Logan.”

Leslie stood and went to an elegant mahogany desk along one wall of the sitting room in which they'd met with the investigator. She returned with a notepad as well as a slim file folder, which she handed to the man. “This is everything we know about our son's past, both before and after he was abducted.” She sat again and took several moments to write on the notepad she held. Tearing off the top sheet, she extended it to him. “These
are people you can call for references on us as well as for any more information on the original investigation. The first name is the retired police chief who handled the abduction when it occurred. The second is the general number for Children's Connection. People there knew Everett Baker. They also know us and you can speak with anyone there you like. The last three numbers are our family physician and two longtime friends. Our children's names—our other children's names—and numbers are already in the folder, in case you should need to speak with them. But they're all younger than Robbie. None of them even knew him.” Her lip quivered again but she took a deep breath and bit into her lip. After a moment, her lovely features relaxed again.

The private investigator stood, sliding the loose note into the folder as he extended his hand first to Terrence and then to Leslie. “I expect that will be a formality, Mr. and Mrs. Logan. I'll be in touch within the week to let you know how the investigation is going.”

“Thank you,” Terrence said.

“Yes, thank you,” Leslie echoed. “You can't imagine what it means to us to learn that our son is living.” A smile lightened the sorrow in her eyes. “After all these years…it's a miracle.”

“Then I'll do my best to ensure that your miracle stays out of prison,” the P.I. said.

 

Within an hour, Danny's lawyer and the police chief had arrived. Danny and the chief watched through a
hastily set up video feed while Danny's lawyer questioned Sydney. She'd agreed to answer the man's questions without any hesitation. She'd even asked Danny if he wanted to listen, and had looked disappointed and unhappy when he'd refused. Oh, she was good. No doubt about it.

“Tell me why you think your son is Noah Crosby, Ms. Aston. You say you got him under questionable circumstances?”

“It's Miss,” Sydney said quietly. She linked her fingers in her lap. “Four years ago, in January of 2001, I received a call from a woman who'd been a friend—an acquaintance, really—from college. She said she'd gotten my name from another friend and wanted to visit while she was in Seattle. That's where I was living at the time.”

The lawyer made an encouraging noise, and Sydney went on. “When she arrived, she had her son with her. She said he was about a year old, but she was evasive about his birthday. Also, I remember thinking that she and the child didn't seem bonded. The baby didn't seem to find her particularly comforting, didn't look for her or hold up his arms when she came near. It was…odd. But at the time, it didn't seem significant. Margo, my friend, looked bad. Her clothes weren't especially clean and she had a bruise down the side of her face and several more on her arms that she tried to keep covered. She was dead broke and if I had turned her away she would have had to go to a shelter. So I let them stay with me. Eventually Margo confided in
me. She said the baby's name was Nicholas—Nick—and that his father was dead. She said the bruises were from a boyfriend who'd gotten abusive. I think his name was Charlie or Chuck, something like that. I'm afraid I don't really remember.”

“It's all right. Go on.”

“They stayed with me for three weeks and I adored little Nick. He seemed to like me, too, and I told Margo she could stay as long as she needed. But one day when I got home from work, Margo was gone. Nick was alone in my apartment in the crib I'd bought, screaming his poor little head off.” She took a deep breath. “On the floor by the bed was a paper bag and in the bag…in the bag was one hundred thousand dollars. In cash!” She sounded sincerely shocked. After a moment, she gathered herself again.

“I put the money in the bank and got a neighbor to baby-sit during the day. I was sure Margo would be back soon. Who in the world walks away from a precious child like that?”

Not to mention the money,
Danny thought. But Sydney never said another word about it.

“One day, when she'd been gone for a little more than three weeks, I saw on the news that they'd found a woman's body caught on some branches in a stream in the mountains outside Seattle.” She put a hand to her throat and Danny could see horror on her face. “They identified her through dental records. It was Margo.”

“The baby's mother.” The attorney wore no expression as he listened.

“Yes. Or so I believed at the time.” She unclasped and relaced her fingers in the first sign of nerves she'd shown.

Maybe the first part of the story was true, Danny thought. She sure hadn't sounded like she was lying. But the lies were about to begin. This was where she would claim Nick was really his Noah.

“I called Social Services and applied to become his temporary foster home, which they granted. They tried to find family, both the mother's and the father's, but no one ever came forward, so after going through a lengthy adoption process that lasted over a year, I adopted Nicholas. And shortly after that we moved to Portland because I got a good job offer there.”