Belonging (40 page)

***

It was nearly dark when the wheels of the
small Cessna touched down in a perfect landing on the small
airstrip just outside Plains City. Skimming across the smooth
surface, the plane gently glided to a stop in front of the metal
barn that served as a hangar. Moments later, a lean figure emerged
from the building and strode toward the house. Though the man was
rapidly approaching forty, a rangy, muscled hardness to the
six-foot-three-inch frame had not yet been softened by the
years.

Though Ward Garrison was tired and weary to
the bone, a kind of hurried impatience marked his long- legged
stride as he took the porch steps two at a time, heading with
intent toward the den.

The room was paneled in knotty pine, and
sparsely but comfortably furnished. Bookshelves lined nearly every
available wall space. The only decoration was a pair of old
flintlock rifles mounted above the stone fireplace. Near the window
stood a worn leather armchair that had seen many years of use. A
massive desk dominated the room, and Ward directed his steps toward
it.

The chair behind the desk creaked a protest
as he sat down. He made no move to reach for the phone; instead
his hazel eyes rested on the framed photograph that occupied a
place of honor on the desktop. A shuttered look came over his face
as he picked up the oak frame, studying the fragile features in the
photo as if to memorize them. But there was little need. Even
without the reminder of those laughing blue eyes and silky blond
hair, the image was printed indelibly on his brain. She looked so
happy and carefree.... And it seemed like a lifetime ago that he
had felt that way.

"Megan," he said aloud. And then he wished
he hadn't, as the familiar tightening began to build in his chest.
He took a deep, shuddering breath, but long minutes passed before
he set aside the photograph and leaned back in his chair.

"Oh, Meg," he murmured faintly. "Sometimes
it's still so hard to believe you're gone—" She had been a part of
his life for so long... forever. And then a quirk of fate, a moment
in time... and she was no more.

His eyes flitted to a
smaller picture, but one no less dear to his heart. He felt a surge
of pride and possessiveness. His son. His own flesh and blood, the
one bright spot left in his life. The son Megan wanted so badly but
wasn't able to have. Despite the brief time allotted to them, no
one could have been a better mother to Robbie than Megan. She
was
¹
his
mother, the only mother he had ever known.

Ward's eyes grew unusually soft as he
reached out a finger and traced the outline of the miniature
features so like his own. Robbie had his bold nose, the same
square jaw line. But his eyes... those vivid green eyes could
belong to only one person.

The reminder was one he had learned to live
with. Not that he was ungrateful... but there were times when he
was strangely resentful of the woman who had given him his son, as
well as of the fact that his own wife could never hope to
conceive...while it had been so simple for her. And there were also
times when Robbie would look up at him, his eyes unusually serious
and urgent, yet so full of life and expression, and he felt a brief
surge of anger jolt through his body, because he looked so damned
much like her.

Ward reached for the phone and punched out a
number. "Eileen?" He swiveled around in the chair to stare out the
window. "It's me."

"Ward!" Mild surprise was registered in his
sister's tone. "Are you home already?"

One side of his mouth quirked upward. "I
pushed the crew as hard as I pushed myself so we could finish ahead
of schedule."

"Well, thank heaven you don't do near as
much traveling as you did five years ago." There was a brief pause.
"It's hard on Robbie with you gone, as young as he is. He tries not
to let it show, but I can tell."

"I know." There was a bitter edge to his
smile. "You wouldn't believe how much I miss him. But with Tyler
breaking his leg and laid up in the hospital, I had no choice but
to fill in for him." He lifted a hand to smooth his rumpled dark
hair. "Is Robbie still up?"

"No. I put him to bed right after dinner."
Eileen's voice was full of apology.

Ward's smile was halfhearted at best, but he
disguised his disappointment. "Well, don't bother waking him.
I'll be over tomorrow to pick him up."

"Don't hurry on my account." Eileen laughed.
"You know Robbie—always where the action is. And if there's nothing
going on, he creates a little excitement of his own. But he keeps
me busy and I love haying him around. The house is so empty with
Tim and Katie away at college." She stopped for a second. "But I'm
really glad you came back early. Frank's going to a cattle auction
in Amarillo on Monday, so maybe I'll go along and do some
shopping."

He nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow,
then—"

"Ward, wait! There's something you should
know—"

The sudden urgency in Eileen's voice stopped
him from hanging up. Frowning, he spoke into the mouthpiece again.
"Yes?"

"Ward..." Her voice dropped, and she seemed
unsure of something. "I was at the house today to pick up the mail,
and... someone called."

Something in her tone brought his tired
senses fully alert. He leaned forward in his chair and asked in a
clipped voice, "Who?"

It was a full minute before Eileen spoke. He
could scarcely make out her muted tones. "Jenna Bradford."

"Jenna Bradford!" Ward sat back
disbelievingly, his fingers tensing around the phone. "What did she
want?"

Eileen was silent, hesitating just a moment
too long, but somehow he already knew. "Robbie."

His insides were suddenly tied up in knots.
Why now, after all this time... ? "What else did she say?"

"Nothing really." Eileen sounded just as
confused as he felt. "She just said she didn't want to cause
any

trouble—but wants to see Robbie. And she's
staying until she talks to you about it."

"Staying? You mean she's here?" He felt as
if he'd been struck.

"Yes. She's at the Sundowner Motel in Plains
City." An empty silence hung in the air as their thoughts veered in
the same direction. "Ward, do you think...?" Eileen swallowed,
almost afraid to say the words aloud. "Do you think she wants him
back?"

"If that's the case, she won't be long in
discovering she'll have one hell of a fight on her hands," he said
grimly, "because I'm not about to let anyone take my son away from
me. And the sooner she finds that out, the better." On that
unrelenting note, Ward slammed down the phone and walked out the
door.

There was no point in putting it off—he
intended to find out exactly why Jenna Bradford was visiting.

***

The evening stretched out emptily after
Jenna finally roused herself. She must have fallen asleep, she
thought vaguely, switching on the bedside lamp. Sitting up, she
glanced at her watch. It was just after nine. A dull ache throbbed
in her temples, and she stumbled to the bathroom to splash some
cold water on her face. As she dried her hands, she studied her
reflection. She looked strained and rather drawn, her eyes the only
splash of color in an otherwise pale face.

The lateness of the hour rather than hunger
reminded her that she hadn't eaten since lunch. Rummaging through
a small bag from a convenience store where she'd stopped on the
long drive yesterday, she found a half-eaten package of tiny
sugared donuts. She nibbled on one, but the sweet taste was
unexpectedly cloying. The few bites she took sat like a heavy
stone in her stomach, and she pushed aside the package
distastefully. Suddenly she felt as if the walls were closing in on
her, and she knew she couldn't remain in the stark motel room any
longer. After running a brush through her long dark hair, she
grabbed her purse and a light denim blazer and went outside,
intent on getting a breath of fresh air.

Darkness had already settled over Plains
City, but the parking area of the motel was lighted by the bright
glare of the sign near the office. Jenna was in the process of
closing the door behind her when she noticed a dark maroon Blazer
pull to a halt in one of the stalls. As a man got out, something in
his lean, muscular bearing caught her eye. He was tall and broad
shouldered, and a faint breeze ruffled his thick dark hair as he
dropped his keys in his pocket. The sharp blade of his nose bespoke
arrogance, the thrust of his chin determination. She registered
the deeply chiseled features with a prickly sense of unease as she
watched him slam the car door shut with almost vicious intent. Hazy
spears of light shone down from the streetlamp, falling full on his
face for a moment, as he moved away from the car.

Jenna froze.

Dressed in a plaid shirt, jeans and boots,
the man could have passed for just another cowboy, one of the many
who seemed to populate the town. As if he were caught in the same
current of awareness as she, the man slowly turned to face her.
Jenna couldn't tear her eyes away from his as a flicker of
recognition passed between them.

Ward Garrison didn't bother to smile; he
didn't bother to tip his hand in greeting. He just stared at her
for what she suspected was the longest moment in her life. Then he
began to move toward her.

Jenna's breathing grew almost painfully
shallow as those hazel eyes stared unwaveringly into hers. Her
heart thumped as she watched his face grow colder with each step
that brought him nearer.

She had the feeling that the battle for
Robbie was over before it had even begun.