Sherryl Woods - The Devaney Brothers - Michael and Patrick - Michael's Discovery

“That’ll work,” he said at once. “The garage door’s not locked and it’s not automatic. Think you can lift it?”

She grinned and feigned flexing a muscle. “I may be little, but I’m mighty.”

She went on ahead as Michael tried to navigate the driveway. It seemed to take forever. He was surprised that no one glanced outside and caught a glimpse of him struggling up the slight incline. What if no one was home? Granted it was Saturday afternoon and his mother had always baked on Saturdays, but maybe things had changed.

As he considered that, he realized that Kelly had the garage door open. His mother’s car, the same dull gray sedan she’d driven for far too many years now, was right where it had always been. He bit back a sigh as he thought of how many times he’d offered her money to buy herself something newer, and how many times she’d told him to save his money for a rainy day.

Just then the door from the kitchen was flung open and there she was, her cheeks rosy from the heat of the oven, wisps of graying curls framing her face and an expression of pure delight on her face.

“Oh, my,” his mother whispered. “I heard the garage door, but I never imagined... Oh, my.” She was down the driveway, her arms around him before Michael could even blink away the tears that threatened.

“Mom, you have to stop crying,” he said as he held her tightly. “I’m okay, and any second now you’re going to have me blubbering. How will that look?”

“I don’t care how it looks,” she said, still not releasing him. She shook him just a little. “There’s nothing wrong with a man showing emotion. I thought I’d taught you that.”

Michael laughed. “You certainly tried.”

His mother stood up at last, then surveyed him thoroughly. “Oh, Michael, you look wonderful. Why didn’t you let us know you were coming?”

“I didn’t want you to make a fuss,” he said, knowing now how futile that had been. Surprise or no surprise, there would eventually be a fuss. He took her hand and gestured toward the garage. “There’s someone here you’ve been ignoring. Do you remember Kelly Andrews?”

His mother spun around, and her eyes lit up. “Bryan’s little sister,” she said at once, then grinned. “The one who always had a crush on you.”

Michael winced. “Mom, don’t embarrass her.”

But Kelly was laughing. “And I thought I’d hidden it so well.”

“A mother always knows,” his mother told her. “It’s wonderful to see you again. But how...?” Understanding obviously dawned, and she whirled on him. “Michael Devaney, how long have you been back in Boston?”

“Not long,” he said evasively.

She turned to Kelly. “How long?”

Kelly looked straight at him and didn’t even hesitate. “I believe it’s been about six weeks now, hasn’t it, Michael?”

“Traitor,” he said.

“Honesty should be prized,” his mother scolded. “What on earth am I thinking keeping the two of you out here when it’s bitter cold? Come inside where it’s warm, so I won’t feel guilty making you listen to me tell you just how annoyed I am with you, Michael Devaney.”

He felt a little like saying, “Aw, Ma, do I have to?” Unfortunately he knew exactly the sort of reaction that would get. He might as well go in and get the deserved lecture over with.

Looking up, he gave his mother his most appealing smile. “I don’t suppose you’ve been baking today, have you?”

She frowned at him, though there was a twinkle in her eyes. “I’ve just finished baking for the social hour after church tomorrow, as you perfectly well know, since I’ve been doing it every Saturday for the past thirty or more years. I don’t imagine anyone there will object if I cut one of the apple pies for you and Kelly.” She gave him a knowing look. “And I imagine you’ll be wanting ice cream on top.”

“Is there any other way?” he asked as his mother stepped behind the chair and briskly wheeled it inside as if she’d been doing exactly that forever.

The kitchen smelled of cinnamon and sugar and apples. While he and Kelly took off their coats, his mother bustled around cutting the pie, putting ice cream on top and setting it on the table. Only after he’d taken the first bite and made all the appropriate comments about her incredible baking did she pull out a chair and glower at him.

“Now, then,” she said in a tone with which he was all too familiar, “we’ll talk about why in heaven’s name you thought you had to keep your presence here in Boston a secret from me.”

Kelly grinned and settled back more comfortably in her chair. “I think I’m going to enjoy seeing you try to wriggle off the hook.”

His mother frowned at her. “You’re not off the hook, either, young lady. You know the phone number here. You could have tipped me off.”

Kelly instantly looked so incredibly guilty that Michael took pity on her. “Don’t blame her. I swore her to secrecy.”

It was a slight overstatement of the truth, but Kelly didn’t deserve to get one of his mother’s blistering lectures on his account. Hiding out had been his choice, though for the life of him, he couldn’t think now why he had thought it was necessary.

“Then you explain it,” his mother challenged.

He met her gaze and said simply, “I needed to get my bearings.”

“And you couldn’t do that under this roof?” she demanded incredulously.

“No,” he said quietly. “I’m not the same man I was when I left here.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” his mother said with obvious impatience. “Of course, you are, certainly in every way that counts. You’re going to have to do much better than that, Michael.”

Both women seemed to be watching him expectantly, but Michael didn’t have any answers for them. None his mother was likely to accept, certainly.

“I’m glad I’m here now, Mom. Isn’t that enough?”

Her eyes misted again. “Yes, I suppose it is,” she said softly, then reached for his hand. “Your father is going to be so pleased. He’ll be home soon. You can wait, can’t you? And I can call your sisters. I’m sure they’d want to be here to welcome you.”

Michael noticed that even without him having to say it, she’d apparently gotten the message that he wouldn’t be staying here with them. “Of course I can wait, as long as Kelly’s not in a rush.”

She immediately shook her head. “I’m in no rush. In fact, that will give me time to try to pry this pie recipe out of your mother.”

Nothing Kelly could have said would have done more to ingratiate her with his mother, Michael thought as he saw the pleasure bloom on Doris Havilcek’s face. Before he knew it the two of them were sharing recipes as if they’d been at it for years. He sat back, closed his eyes for an instant and let the sound of their excited talk flow over him.

It didn’t take long for the rest of his family to assemble. His foster sisters Jan and Patty, were the first to arrive, welcoming him with hugs and more stern admonishments about his failure to get in touch the instant he hit town. He was trying to fend them off with good-natured teasing when the man he’d always considered his father walked in.

Kenneth Havilcek was a big, burly man who’d spent his life in construction. He’d loved athletics and privately bemoaned the fact that his daughters weren’t the least bit interested in any of the sports he loved. When Michael had come into his life, he’d said Michael was the gift of a son he’d been dreaming about. Sports had been their bond. No father could have been prouder when Michael excelled at both football and basketball in high school. He’d never missed a single game.

He was halfway across the room, a welcoming smile on his face, when he spotted the wheelchair and faltered. When he finally met Michael’s gaze, there was a shared misery in his expression. Clearly, he understood better than most of the others in the room the full implications of Michael being unable to walk, however temporarily.