Linda Warren - Forgotten Son

It would be nice to have someone here, though—someone to wake up to. Caroline’s face swam before him and he squeezed his eyes tight. No. He didn’t want to see her. Then he pictured Jake McCain. No. He didn’t want to see him, either. But Jake was his brother, his half brother. He was family. He was blood. No. Eli wasn’t a McCain. Joe McCain had denied his existence, and Eli would never admit that the man’s blood ran in his veins.

Never.

That thought lasted a second, then everything went black.

CAROLINE LAY QUIETLY as the doctors and nurses attended to her wounds. She wondered where her family was. Where was Colin? She felt so alone in this roomful of strangers. They quickly took her to a private room, and Caroline kept looking for her mother, father, Grace and Colin, but all she saw were people she didn’t know.

She had an IV in her arm because the doctor said she was dehydrated. They’d given her something for pain and she was beginning to feel woozy and disoriented. But she had to stay awake and find out how Eli was.

Her hands and feet were bandaged, and a nurse removed her clothes and helped her put on a hospital gown. After making sure she was comfortable, the woman left the room.

Caroline licked her dry lips as tears gathered in her eyes. She felt alone and abandoned and she wanted to touch Eli—to feel his strength. She didn’t even know him, yet she felt a connection she couldn’t explain.

Her eyes grew droopy and she forced them open. She wouldn’t close them. She never wanted to see darkness again—not ever. “Amazing grace” hovered at the back of her mind and she wanted to give in and sing to block everything out.

She heard voices in the hall and that weakness dissipated. Grace was here. She’d know her sister’s voice anywhere. The door burst opened and Grace ran in and grabbed her.

“Caro, Caro,” she cried, holding her tight. “Thank God you’re okay. Thank God you’re alive.”

“Yes. I’m very lucky.”

Grace drew back and brushed away a tear. The sisters looked very much alike, with the same blond hair and green eyes and body shape, except Grace wore her hair pulled back while Caroline’s was usually loose. Their personalities were so different, though, that people often said they didn’t resemble each other.

Caroline was soft and giving, but had an inner strength. Grace was studious, career driven and very much like their father, whom she spent most of her life trying to please. Caroline was just the opposite—needing to be on her own, needing to be her own person.

“My,” Grace said, “look at you. You have scratches on your face and arms, and the doctor said your hands and feet have bad lacerations.”

“They’ll heal.”

Grace frowned. “Couldn’t that Texas Ranger who found you have done more to keep you from getting hurt?”

“I’m alive,” Caroline stressed. “I’m alive. If not for him, I’d be dead.”

Grace shivered and ran her hands up her arms. “Don’t say that. We’ve been so worried and I—”

“Where’s Mom and Dad?” Caroline asked, before they both started bawling like babies.

“You know them. Dad’s giving a news conference and Mom is right beside him, as always. It makes good politics—gets the sympathy of the voters, and that’s top priority—the voter.”

Caroline heard the bitterness in her voice. “Do you think we’ll ever get past the resentment of not having normal parents?”

“Probably not.” Grace sat on the bed beside her. “But, you’re thirty and I’m twenty-nine so we should probably try.”

“Yeah,” Caroline answered quietly.

Grace rubbed Caroline’s arm. “Are you okay?”

She smiled at her sister. “Yes. I’m a little shaken still, but I’ll be fine.” She glanced at the door. “Where’s Colin? I thought he’d be here waiting for me. I’m anxious to see him.”

Grace looked away.

“Grace, where’s Colin?”

“He should be here soon.”

Grace was trying not to tell her something.

“Why isn’t he here now?”

“You know he had that new store opening in Houston.”

“Yes.”

“The opening was today.”

“And he went!” Caroline knew the answer before Grace spoke.

“Yes. We’d been waiting for days, and like I said, we were so worried. I think he just needed to do something. The wait was getting to all of us. Mom called him and he’s on his way back.”

“Oh. I guess that makes it all right then.” She couldn’t keep the anger out of her voice.

“Caro, please don’t—”

“I’m so tired.” Caroline cut her off. “I want to go to sleep, but I’m afraid to close my eyes. They kept me in a cellar with nothing but bread and water. There was no light.” She had to take a deep breath as the suffocating memory filled her. “I think I went insane for a while. I sang hymns and I want to start singing again. That way I can stay awake. I feel as if I’m losing it. I can’t…”

“Shh,” Grace murmured, stretching out beside her. “Remember when we were kids and I was afraid of the dark and I’d sneak past the nanny to sleep with you?”

“Yes.”

“Now I will protect you from the dark.” She snuggled against her. “Just close your eyes and go to sleep. I’ll be right here and I’ll leave all the lights on.”

“I don’t think I can sleep. I can still feel the terror of that room—of him.”

“Caroline, try to put it out of your mind.”

“I can’t. He picked me to be his seventh wife—to bear his seventh son. If he had touched me in that way, I would have died. I couldn’t have lived through that.”

“It’s over. Try to think of something pleasant.”

Eli was pleasant and nice and…

“Shut your eyes,” Grace coaxed. “I’ll be right here.”

“Sisters first,” Caroline mumbled, remembering a pact they’d made when they were nine and eight years old. Her eyes closed.

“Sisters first—always,” Grace echoed, as Caroline let go and drifted into a restless sleep.

She didn’t know how long she’d slept, but she woke up screaming. Grace quickly calmed her. “It’s all right. You’re in a hospital. It’s all right.”

“Oh, God,” Caroline whimpered, feeling the remnants of the nightmare about Amos Buford. “I could see him so clearly, as if he was in this room with me.”

“He’s not. I’m the only one here.”

Caroline scooted up in bed. “I can’t sleep. I just can’t.”

“Okay.” Grace pushed up beside her. “Then we’ll talk. There’s a new chick flick out—the mushy, happily ever after stuff that you love. We can go see it as soon as you feel up to it.”

“Okay,” Caroline mumbled.

“And, oh, there’s a new suit at that little dress shop we love. It’s a light mint-green with a lacy camisole. Absolutely fetching. I love it, but its kind of bright and I wanted to get your opinion. Tell you what, I’ll buy the suit and you pick out something equally charming and we’ll dress up and go out to a movie and dinner.”

Caroline rested her head on Grace’s shoulder, relaxing at her easy, nonsensical chatter. “Keep talking.”

“I was thinking about joining one of the fitness places for women. I don’t get much exercise and at my age I should start thinking about that. I hate getting all sweaty, though, and I haven’t figured out a way around that. Maybe you could join me and we…”

The thought of Grace exercising was hilarious—Caroline couldn’t even picture it. She’d join just to get a glimpse of her sister working out. Grace’s voice drummed on and Caroline smiled, letting go of the fear and easing into sleep once more.

CAROLINE AWOKE TO VOICES, familiar voices, and saw that her mother and father were in the room. Joanna was sitting in a chair talking on a cell phone and Stephen was pacing back and forth, talking on his own cell phone. Grace sat by Caroline’s bedside, holding her bandaged hand.