Jillian Hart - Reunited for the Holidays

“I know. We found your phone, too.” Carter, his youngest from his second marriage, stepped in, healthy and whole, back from war. “We were afraid you’d gotten ill. Are you all right, Dad?”

“Now I am.” He wrapped his arms around Carter, holding him tight. When he ended the hug, he held on, drinking in the sight of the boy—okay, he was twenty-three, but Carter would always be his youngest, a seasoned soldier home from deployment safely. When Brian let go, it was hard to see again. He was grateful to God for returning his youngest son home unharmed.

“We heard you caught a virulent strain of strep.” Carter ambled into the living room, making himself at home.

“And that you’d been treating a family who were dangerously ill.” Grayson headed straight for the couch.

“We feared the worst, Dad.” Beautiful Maddie with her auburn hair and a stylish fashion sense swept through the doorway, anguish carved into her dear face.

“I never meant to worry you.” He shut the door, swallowing hard. His case had been severe and there’d been days, even weeks, where it hadn’t been certain he would live. He didn’t know what to do with the emotions coiled in his chest, so he shrugged, tried to play things down. “I survived, so it wasn’t so bad.”

“This is just like you. Always keeping us out instead of letting us in.” Maddie sounded upset, on the verge of anger or tears, maybe both.

He hated upsetting her. Frustrated at himself, he crossed his arms over his chest. Remember your vow, Brian. You have to try harder. “I didn’t mean it that way, honey. There’s nothing to worry about now. I’m on the mend. That you kids are here, that you came, means everything.”

It wasn’t easy, but he got out the words.

“Oh, Daddy.” Maddie swiped her eyes. “Don’t you dare make me cry. I’m choked up enough already.”

“What do you mean? What’s got you choked up? Is something going on?”

“Dad, you’d better sit down for this.” Grayson patted the seat beside him.

“This can’t be good.” He studied Carter’s serious face and the troubled crinkles around Grayson’s eyes. “Something happened while I was gone. That’s why you were trying to reach me?”

“It’s not bad news, but it could give you a real shock.” Grayson cleared his throat, waiting until Brian eased onto the cushion. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to do it. We found Mom.”

“Uh...” Brian’s brain screeched to a halt, unable to make sense of those words. He was hearing things. No doubt due to his exhaustion and weakened state. “Sorry...say that again? Your mom’s buried. She died when Carter was three. You remember the car accident.”

“Not Sharla, Dad. Our real mother, at least for Grayson and me,” Maddie added.

“Your real...? What?” That’s as far as he got. The mention of the mother of his other son and daughter floored him. How could they know? All they could remember was Sharla, his second wife, the woman he’d married when the kids were very young. “Wait a minute. I don’t understand. You’re not making any sense.”

“I know it’s a shock for you, Daddy.” Maddie settled on the couch across from him. “But it’s true. Take a deep breath. I found our birth mother.”

“No.” He shook his head, refusing to see how that was possible. The only person Maddie could be talking about was Isabella...his first wife, his high school sweetheart, the woman who’d broken his faith in true love.

“I found Violet—” she began.

“Violet?” He blinked, his brain spinning.

“Thanks to a lucky coincidence, Violet and I came face-to-face in a coffee shop and I found Mom from there.” Maddie’s hands cradled his.

Isabella was gone, tucked away in the Witness Protection Program with their two other children, never to be seen again. Their lives depended on it. “My mind’s playing tricks on me because I thought you said—”

“Yes, I did. Mom is in Grasslands, and we’re all together. Violet and Jack, well, they used to be Laurel and Tanner.”

Laurel? Tanner? He shuddered, fighting the memory welling up of the U.S. Marshal driving away in a black SUV. Isabella in the window, cradling a six-month-old in her arms, and a little chestnut-haired boy, just two, waving bye-bye.

He swallowed hard. His lost children were here, in Texas. In Grasslands? Within driving distance? All this time he’d grieved for them, missed them with his entire heart for twenty-five years and now the two sets of twins were reunited? They’d found one another?

No, he shook his head, refusing to believe it. It couldn’t be true. The hardest thing he’d ever done was let them go. But he’d had to make an impossible choice to protect his family from unspeakable danger.

“We’re together now, Dad.” Maddie’s happiness was real. Her hands around his were real. “The only one missing is you.”

Her words finally sank in. Realization crashed over him like a cold ocean wave, washing away disbelief.

This was really happening. It wasn’t a hallucination or fever, born from his illness. He rubbed his hand over his face, took a deep breath and willed his heart rate to slow.

“Isabella.” For twenty-five years—nearly all of his adult life—he’d been without her. And for good reason, he’d told himself. He’d done his best not to think of her for over two decades. That’s the way he wanted it.

How could he tell his kids that? Maddie with her delight, Grayson actually smiling and Carter relaxed and at peace. This was good news for them.

But it wasn’t good news. He thought about the reason for their separation in the first place. Was it safe to reunite the twins? What about the murderous drug dealer they’d been hiding from? His stomach clenched tightly as he pressed his hands to his face, overwhelmed.

“Violet and Jack are waiting to meet you, Dad.” Carter stood, holding out his hand. “C’mon. I’ll drive you.”

“Good, because I’m not steady.” A lot had changed in twenty-five years, but not his love for his kids—for all of his kids. He took Carter’s hand. “Then let’s go.”

As for Isabella, he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. The last thing he wanted was to see her again.

* * *

“Mom, you don’t have to be so stubborn.”

“Me, stubborn?” Belle gripped her walker, refusing to give in to the limitations her head injury and consequent coma had left her with. She had work to do—work she missed back home on the ranch—and being cooped up in Ranchland Manor wasn’t in her plans for much longer. “What makes you say that?”

“Oh, no reason.” Violet, her beautiful, redheaded daughter, rolled her eyes. “Will you get in bed already?”

“I’m not sleepy.” The evening was still lovely, with the big Texas sky stretching like a soft blue canvas. She missed horseback riding beneath that canopy with the wind on her face. She breathed in, longing for the tangy scent of grass and open prairie. The biggest problem with being stuck in this place was the walls. At forty-three, Belle lived a very active lifestyle and liked her wide-open spaces. Maybe that had to do with those early years when she’d been in hiding, when her children were small.

“Mom, you’re here to heal, remember?” Jack, her handsome, strapping son, tugged around the armchair, so it would face the window instead of the bed. “Can you take it easy for once?”

“That would be against my better judgment.”

“Do something because we ask, okay?” Jack took her elbow.

“Yeah, Mom, it won’t kill you, right?” Violet’s loving laughter filled the room.

“It might,” she quipped, clunking the walker to a stop beside the armchair. Here came the hard part. She stopped her walker a few inches away, giving her just enough distance so that she would have to take a step on her own.