Long-Lost Mom

Chapter 8

Stone held Sara’s hand during the funeral service. He had no idea if he was giving or receiving the comfort. They sat toward the back of the filled church and listened to the pastor drone on about God’s plan and timing and Fate.

He could see his mother and father, grieving and clinging to each other in the front pew.

Sara had demanded to know, in a not-so-quiet whisper, exactly which people were her grandparents, and he’d dutifully pointed them out.

And the dam he’d built around his heart held, for he hardly felt a twinge. He certainly felt no regret, only a lingering sense of anger at their incredible stubbornness.

“Daddy,” Sara whispered, tugging at his arm, “it’s over.”

Surprised, Stone watched the mourners weed their way to the front to offer their condolences.

He and Sara had already decided that they would not intrude on his parents, not on this day. They would pay their respects to Richard and leave.

So Stone had no idea why he grabbed Sara’s hand, kissed her and then started for the front of the church. Sara looked up at him, pride and love beaming from her face, and Stone knew he was doing the right thing.

The years fell away. His mother, petite and lovely, her small pixie face ravaged by tears, looked the same. His father, tall and rangy much like Stone, had gone gray, but his face, tanned and wrinkled from years in the sun, was also much the same.

Except they’d aged.

Stone’s heart lurched painfully.

“Mother,” he said softly. “Dad.” He waited until they looked at him, their mouths agape with shock. “I’m very sorry.”

For a moment no one spoke.

Finally his father said, “It’s about ten years late for that.”

“I meant,” Stone said firmly but politely, “I’m sorry about Richard. Nothing else.” He turned slightly, exposing Sara at his side. Smiling down into her curious, slightly nervous eyes, he said, “This is Sara. Sara, these are my parents, Lara and Charles Cameron.”

He heard his mother gasp, and he tensed, prepared to protect Sara from anything his mother might say.

But she didn’t speak.

This had nothing to do with his past, Stone reminded himself as his anger built; this was all about Sara. And her future.

He could only hope his parents saw it that way.

Then it happened, the only thing in the world that could have made him relax enough to actually enjoy this meeting. His mother plucked her glasses from the chain around her neck, and set them onto her nose, hungrily drinking in the sight of the child at his side.

Sara stared raptly in return.

“Why, you’re beautiful,” Lara Cameron said to Sara, whose face split into a wide grin.

“I look like my daddy,” she announced proudly.

Lara’s eyes filled once again. “I know.”

Charles swallowed hard, looking back and forth between Sara and Stone, as if unable to believe his eyes. “Son.” He held out his hand formally.

Stone slid his hand into his father’s. “I meant what I said before. I’m so sorry about Richard.”

His father nodded brusquely, turning away to hide his emotion.

“How come you named my daddy after a rock?” Sara asked, forgetting to keep her voice down. “’Cause Stone isn’t really a name, you know.”

His mother let out a choked sound, half laugh, half cry.

“I have an aquarium,” Sara continued, not waiting for a reply. “I’ve got lots of fish. I named two of them Grandma and Grandpa. Wanna see them sometime?”

“Sara.” Stone set his hands on her shoulders, silently reminding her of their bargain-which had been for her to remain quiet.

“Just wanted them to know, Daddy.” She smiled innocently. “’Cause if they decide they want to be my grandma and grandpa for real, I’ll rename the fish, that’s all.”

Lara dropped to the pew gracefully, set her face in her hands and began to cry.

Stone’s father, looking suddenly lost and much smaller $han his height dictated, awkwardly patted her shoulder.

Stone took Sara’s hand and turned away.

“Wait,” his mother gasped. Tears streaming down her face, she managed a weak smile. “I think I’d like to see your fish sometime, darling. Would…that really be okay?”

“Oh, yes.” Sara danced on her feet, excited.

“Are you sure? How about with your father?” Lara said, not looking at Stone. “Do you think he’d mind?”

Sara glanced up at Stone, searching his face for a long moment, before answering her grandma with a solemn tone. “Maybe you could ask him when you’re ready. You know, call him on the phone?”

“Would he like that?” Lara asked.

Sara thought about this a moment. “I think that would make him happier than he’s ever been,” she replied.

Lara nodded slowly, and once again began to cry.

For all Sara’s nonchalance, Stone knew by the way she fell sound asleep in his truck on the way home that his little girl was exhausted, made so by all the heavy emotions of the day.

When he was parked, he went around to the passenger side and scooped her up in his arms as he hadn’t done in a long time. He stared at her in wonder, soaking in the gangly long legs, the thin torso she hadn’t yet grown into and the peaceful at-rest face.

God, he loved her. He wanted to keep her healthy and safe for always.

Just a couple of weeks ago he’d have said he’d do this alone, without his family, without anyone. But that was before three monumental events had occurred, each equally staggering.

He’d lost his brother, forever.

He’d seen his parents and experienced firsthand the proof that they were indeed greatly affected by Sara.

And he’d started to fall for a woman.

It was the last one that had his heart tripping with unaccustomed nerves.

But then he walked up the path to his house and got a very pleasant surprise.

Cindy was sitting on his steps, looking lovely and wary and warm and anxious, making him wish he had two more arms with which to hold her, too.

Her eyes fell to the dead-to-the-world child cradled against him, and her face seemed to crumble. Stone watched in wonder as her mysterious dark eyes filled with a staggering tender emotion.

“Hey, there,” he whispered, shifting Sara so he could unlock the front door.

“Hey, back. Hope you don’t mind my showing up so early,” she said quietly. “But I wanted to be here in case you needed… or in case Sara… Well, I thought maybe you could use the company.” Her breath escaped her all in one big rush as she sagged, looking fragile and very beautiful. “I’m sorry,” she said finally, lifting her uncertain gaze to his. “I just hoped I could… I mean, I just wanted-”

He leaned over Sara and kissed her. “I’m very glad you wanted, thought, hoped, et cetera.”

“Good,” she said unevenly, staring at his mouth in a way that made him instantly hard. “Glad you’re glad, ’cause I have no idea what I’m doing when it comes to you.”

“Whatever it is, it’s working for me.”

“I…have to talk to you.”

“Yes, I remember.” Some of her tension transferred itself to him. What was the matter? he asked himself. What had her looking so horrified and hopeful at the same time?

“Are you… all right?” she questioned as she helped him open the door. “Was it hard?”

“I’m better now,” he told her. “Somehow. I know that sounds strange-”

“It doesn’t,” she assured him. “I know what you mean.”

He looked at her, saw the compassion and understanding and grief in her face and realized she did know exactly what he’d been trying to say.

At some point in her life, maybe several times, she’d lost someone important to her. “I’m sorry,” he said gently.

Again he got that sad little smile, the one that made him want to grab her and hold tight. They walked through the big living room.

“Hold on a sec,” he told her, and carefully settled a still-sleeping Sara on the couch. He was covering her with a quilt when he sensed Cindy behind him. Turning, he was once again struck by the way she was looking at his daughter.

It was as if she was starving-not physically, but emotionally, as though desperate to give love. And uncertain it would be returned.

His heart contracted, and as soon as he’d tucked in his child, he reached for Cindy and pulled her close.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked, wrapping her arms around him, sinking her fingers into the hair at the back of his neck and holding on in a heart-stopping possessive grip. The strangest thing happened. The embrace triggered in Stone unwanted memories of another woman, in another time, touching him in exactly this same way, as if she couldn’t make herself let go.

As if he was her entire world.

Startled, Stone pulled back and stared at Cindy for a long moment.

“What is it?” she asked quickly, withdrawing as if she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t have.

“Nothing.” Tugging her back against him, he tried to forget that twinge of warning unease. “Nothing. Touch me again.”

With a glance at the sleeping Sara, Cindy took his hand. Without a word she led him from the living room into his kitchen.

Then she looked at him, a quick glance over her shoulder. As she caught him blatantly admiring her, she grinned.

He jerked to a stop.

God, that grin-it reminded him so forcibly of Jenna.

What the hell was wrong with him tonight? Delayed shock? He’d read somewhere that a death sometimes causes heightened sexual desire, which he was most definitely experiencing. But what about this sudden fixation on a woman he hadn’t seen in more than ten years?

Needing something to do, he moved to the counter, filled a kettle with water and put it on to boil. Then, rubbing his hands together, he circled, searching for what he could do next.

“Want dinner?” he asked suddenly.

“Can you cook?”

She sounded so surprised he whipped around to face her. She was standing there with a small teasing smile curving her lips. Her head was tilted to the side, one hip cocked, and again she looked so absolutely stunningly familiar.

Then he blinked and she looked just like herself again, making him shake his head in denial. But something was different, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, and he didn’t like it.

He felt as though Jenna was right here in the room with him, watching, listening, haunting him. It wasn’t physical. It couldn’t be, for Cindy was as different from Jenna as mght to day.

Her hair was short, a natural soft brown that his fingers yearned to run through. Jenna’s hair had been long and icy blond. Dyed, he reminded himself.

Cindy was slender, but the curves beneath the material of her dress were lush and driving him out of his mind, even from across the room.

Jenna had been much thinner, leaner, barely matured, and he had no business comparing them.

Cindy’s eyes were dark. Jenna’s had been light.

And yet…both women’s gazes had stared at him from behind a mask of bravery, full of haunting secrets.

He was losing it, he realized, as she stood waiting for him to answer.

“I can make tea,” he said a bit roughly in the too-quiet kitchen. “And I’m really good at reheating pizza.”

She laughed, and the sound should have thrilled him, for she so rarely let go enough to laugh.

Neither had Jenna.

Shaking his head at himself, he went to his answering machine on the cluttered counter and hit play.

Jenna listened to the messages, watching Stone smile as someone thanked him for agreeing to some upcoming auction. Apparently he was giving away dozens of expensive prototypes, all to needy children centers.

Well he hadn’t changed much. The old Stone would have given a stranger his last penny. This Stone was much the same.

She studied his kitchen. Like the rest of the house, it was large and homey. Slightly messy, which for some reason made her smile. Obviously housekeeping was a low priority here, and she knew what was a high one.

Sara.

“You’re so generous with your time and money,” she said quietly. “The children centers must be thrilled to get your help.”

He gave a noncommittal shrug with those broad shoulders, making her smile again. He’d always hated talking about himself, and apparently that hadn’t changed.

“There’s more takeout in this town than just pizza,” he muttered, flipping through the phone book. “What would you like?”

“Do you always do so much for everyone else?” she pressed, already knowing the answer.

“You wanted to talk to me.”

“You’re avoiding my question.” And she was avoiding the inevitable, she realized. But God, she wanted this last evening to be peaceful, up to the end.

“I’m not a saint,” he warned, the muscles in his back tensing as he handled the heavy phone book. “Don’t look at me with rose-colored glasses.”

“I think I’m seeing the real you.”

Tossing the book aside, he rubbed his eyes, shoved his hands through his hair and sagged back against the counter. His exhaustion was a tangible thing, and it made her long to comfort him in some way.

Instead, she was going to make it worse. “I’ve got a better idea than fast food,” she suggested. “Why don’t you let me cook for you and Sara?”

At the unexpected offer he met her eyes across the room. His intense gaze heated her from the inside out.

“I want to do something for you, Stone. You’re always giving. Let me give back.”

A corner of his mouth quirked. “Haven’t you done that already?”

Again she laughed, surprising herself. “I meant… well, more. ”

His look was hooded. Sensual.

“I’m not talking about sex, you know.”

“That’s a shame, because we’re good at it.” Pushing away from the counter, he strode purposely toward her, making her pulse leap.

“There’s more than sex,” she said quickly.

“Yeah, there’s making love.” Snagging her hips, he drew her closer, then dipped his head and dragged that sexy mouth of his over her jaw, nipping as he went.

“Stone.” She closed her eyes and let her head fall back, allowing his lips to connect with the throbbing pulse in her neck. “Stone, wait,” she moaned. “Sara.”

“I know.” He lifted his head and sighed.

He looked so tired. His face was lined with fatigue. His shoulders were slumped, and she suspected that only sheer willpower kept him on his feet. She placed her hands on his chest. So warm, so hard, she thought, her fingers spreading wide to touch as much of him as possible.

With a husky murmur he leaned on her.

“Go lie down on the other couch,” she said softly. “while I cook.”

“Mmm. My bed sounds better.”

“You’re going alone.”

“That’s not as much fun.”

“I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”

With a tenderness that never failed to surprise her, he stroked her cheek. “There isn’t much to work with,” he warned.

“I’ll figure something out,” she promised, pushing him from the room. “Just go rest.”

She watched him leave, then opened the freezer and realized he wasn’t kidding.

It wouldn’t be too hard, however, to whip up a meal of pasta and cheese bread. Stone’s kitchen wasn’t too stocked, but he had the basics.

She glanced at the breakfast dishes still piled in the sink. It made her smile to picture him and Sara here this morning, rushing out the door together.

A tide of warmth filled her, tinged with bittersweetness for what she’d lost. No, that was wrong. What she’d purposely walked away from.

When she’d set the table, she went out to get Stone.

She found him crashed out on the couch opposite Sara. He was too long for it, and as a result, he looked incredibly uncomfortable. Yet he seemed to sleep soundly. His feet hung off one end, his head the other, and she knew he would have a kink in his neck from that horribly cramped position. One arm was tucked awkwardly beneath him, the other flung wide over the side. His chest rose and fell rhythmically with his breathing.

As she watched, his face tightened, as if even in sleep he could find no peace. Moving closer, she kneeled at his side, gratefully using this time to have her fill of simply looking at him.

He’d changed clothing, and now wore faded jeans on those long muscular legs. Soft snug denim that outlined his every contour and, oh, his contours were nice.

It felt so good just to gaze at him. All those years when she’d had only her dreams, she’d missed him so much.

He was warm to the touch, she discovered, so she didn’t worry about covering him. She kept her hand on his arm, stroking, then ran her fingers up and over his shoulder, over his wide chest. Some of his tension seemed to dissolve at that connection. When she cupped his jaw, he turned his face into her hand, remaining deeply asleep. But his frown faded and the lines in his face softened.

Tenderness nearly choked her.

What was she doing? God, she couldn’t believe it, but she was falling hopelessly irrevocably in love with him for the second time. He was everything she’d ever wanted-and the person she’d hurt most next to her daughter.

He could never forgive her, never, and just the knowledge of that made her want to run away. But she was done running, forever. She would stay this time, stay and prove herself. She would.

Stone rolled slightly, trapping her hand between his warm body and the couch. “Don’t go,” he mumbled.

Though she had no idea who he thought he was talking to, she blinked back tears and shook her head. “I won’t,” she promised, her heart hurting from just watching him. “I won’t leave you ever again.”

But eventually she had to; she was too tired herself to remain upright another second. She took the only remaining piece of furniture left in the room, the chair.

Sighing as she curled her legs beneath her, Jenna relaxed for the first time in far too long and watched the two people she cared about most in the world. There was something so peaceful, so… freeing about watching them as they slept out their exhaustion.

Her own eyes drooped. Just for a minute, while the pasta was cooking, she told herself, giving herself permission to close her heavy eyes. Just for a minute…

The dream was the same as it had been every night since her horrific accident.

Excruciating pain. It insinuated itself into every nerve, throbbing and pounding. The blackness was good, welcome, but it wouldn’t come close enough. It wouldn’t swallow her up and take her away. And she couldn’t move, couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe.

People moved around her, over her. Poking, prodding, causing more pain. More fear. No one spoke to her, or if they did she couldn’t understand.

Alone.

Panic overwhelmed her. She heard her own pathetic whimper, but she couldn’t stop herself.

Always so alone.

Ironically she wanted… the one person she couldn’t have.

Stone.

She wanted Stone. The only person to have ever been there for her.

“Easy, sweetheart,” a low male voice murmured close to her ear. When she whimpered, a big gentle hand stroked her face in time to the soothing rumbling endearments he was whispering.

Jenna strained toward that voice, eyes clenched shut, unable to shake the dream.

“You’re going to be all right,” the voice told her, still stroking, and somehow, miraculously, some of the pain became bearable. Her fear receded.

And he became Jenna’s entire world.

“Wake up now. I’m right here.”

She jerked the rest of the way awake to find Stone kneeling at her side, staring worriedly down at her.

“Just me,” he said lightly, concern deepening the lines in his face. “Just a dream, sweetheart,” he said calmly, though his eyes were anything but. “Okay?”

“Okay.” She drew a deep breath. “Just a dream.” Closing her eyes, she savored the moment.

“It was a doozy,” he noted.

She felt him stroke the skin on her neck, her jaw. Felt his other hand on her body, firmly establishing contact so she wouldn’t feel alone.

“Want to tell me about it?”

He had enough to deal with, yet was still willing to carry her burdens, too. She grasped his hand, overwhelmed by how much room he had in his heart. “I’m okay,” she said, and sat up. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“No, my stomach did.” He smiled, some of the worry still evident as he searched her gaze with his. “Are you hungry?”

“Starved.”

They stood, but Stone held her still when she would have moved to the kitchen. “You can trust me,” he told her. Lifting her chin, he met her gaze. “With anything.”

And amazingly enough, for a woman who’d spent her entire life running from trust, she knew it to be true. And the thought gave her hope for the upcoming evening and her biggest risk of all. When she would indeed have to trust him with her very heart and soul.

Stone insisted on doing the dishes. Then, though it wasn’t a school night, Sara was irritable and exhausted enough to want to go to bed early.

Which left Stone and Jenna alone in the living room, a low fire in the hearth and two cups of steaming tea in front of them.

We’re alone, Jenna thought, nerves jangling. No better time than this.

That was when Stone turned to her with a curious little smile on his face.

“What did you mean before? When you said you wouldn’t leave me ever again?”