Elizabeth Bevarly - Georgia Meets Her Groom

And Georgia had never doubted that he would stick to that vow as if it were sacred. However, she’d always thought he might consider taking her with him when he left Carlisle, even if she wasn’t of legal age. Or that he might come back for her when she turned eighteen, too. At the very least, she had thought he would tell her goodbye before he left.

But none of those things had happened. Back then, she had told herself she would be prepared for Jack’s departure when it came, and that she would somehow manage without him once he was gone. And she had. Although it had been painful to lose him, Jack’s determination to survive and thrive in the face of adversity had infected Georgia enough to keep her going, even after he was gone.

And now he was back, a man full grown, driving a car that cost more than most houses, self-assured, successful, dynamic. He was no longer surly, but there still seemed to be an unmistakable anger about something simmering just beneath his surface. Evidently, these days he had plenty in the way of money and prospects. As for hope, however...

“I’m not going to be in town for very long,” he said in response to her earlier suggestion that they give it more than one afternoon, scattering her ruminations.

“So why did you come back?” she asked again. “You don’t honestly expect me to believe you’re here because I was the only person you could talk to, and I just so happen to still be in Carlisle.”

“Something that surprises me, quite frankly,” he remarked, once again avoiding a response to her real question.

She shrugged. “This is my home, Jack. It’s where I grew up. I have a business here, and people know me. I even have a few friends these days. I like Carlisle,” she told him simply. “In spite of...everything else.”

“And just what’s your father up to these days?” he asked.

That was Jack, she remembered as a ripple of tension seared her belly. Always straight to the point. “I assume he’s the same as always. We don’t see too much of each other. Not deliberately, anyway.”

“Why not?”

She gazed at him blandly. “You, above all people, should know the answer to that question.”

He shook his head. “I just thought you might have patched things up between the two of you by now.”

She expelled a sound of disgust. “Not likely.”

He nodded, as if the information were no surprise at all. The silence stretched between them until it became an almost palpable thing. Georgia stared at Jack, and Jack stared at Georgia. Both of them obviously had a lot on their minds. So why weren’t they talking about much of anything?

“Jack,” she finally said when she could no longer tolerate the quiet, “for the last time, what are you doing back in Carlisle?”

She thought she detected a slight hesitation before he told her, “I have some business here.”

Georgia nodded, resignation coiling like a chunk of ice in her midsection. So it wasn’t she who had brought him back to town, after all. “What kind of business?”

“Long story. But obviously having to come to Carlisle reminded me of you. And then I got the news about my brother and sister, and...” He inhaled a deep breath and released it slowly. “I wanted to see you, Geo. I’ve wanted to see you for a long time now.”

Geo. It was the nickname Jack alone had used for her. A term of endearment. A term of affection. And hearing it again for the first time in more than twenty years made Georgia want to cry for some reason. She turned hastily, recalling that she had been about to make coffee, and crossed quickly to the kitchen. Unfortunately, with the layout of the small house being what it was, the kitchen was pretty much just an extension of the living room, so she was still well within Jack’s view.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about you for the last few days,” he continued. “I’ve needed someone to talk to, and you were really the only person I could ever open up to, you know?”

She nodded, the motion jerky and fast, but kept her back to him as she filled the coffeemaker with the dark, fragrant powder.

“I...it’s—”

He bit off the statement immediately after beginning it, and she detected something in his voice then that was troubled and wary. Quickly she completed her task and gathered her thoughts, then returned to the living room to join him while the coffee brewed. He had moved away from the windows, and now occupied the place where she had last been standing herself. She gestured toward the sofa, but he declined the invitation without even acknowledging it. So Georgia dropped down to seat herself there instead.

“It’s what?” she asked.

Instead of answering, Jack moved back to the chair where he had draped his coat, then withdrew a slender white envelope from the inside pocket. Wordlessly, he crossed the room again and handed the letter to Georgia, and she eyed him with puzzlement as she extended her hand for it.

“Just read it,” he said softly.

She scanned the Washington, D.C., return address—evidently a private investigation firm—and looked back at Jack, still confused. When he nodded silently, she withdrew the letter from inside and read:

Dear Mr. McCormick,

I represent a brother and sister, the former Stephen and Charlotte McCormick, now named Spencer Melbourne and Lucy Cagney, originally of Richmond, Virginia, and now living in Washington, D.C., and Arlington, Virginia, respectively. The matter concerns their search for an older brother, Jack William McCormick, from whom they have been separated for more than thirty years. Through my investigative endeavors, I have reason to believe you are that brother....

“Oh, Jack,” Georgia said as she glanced up at him again. “You’ve found them.”

He shook his head, his expression a mixture of joy and terror. “No, they’ve found me.”

She dropped her gaze back to the letter and read through to the end, marveling at how much this must mean to him. “Have you contacted them yet?” she asked when she completed the missive.

He shook his head again.

“Why not?”

“I’m not ready yet.”

“But you’ve been wanting to find them ever since I met you.”

“I’m not ready yet,” he repeated.

“But, Jack...”

He strode restlessly across the room and collapsed onto the sofa beside her, as if his legs were no longer sturdy enough to hold him. He tipped his head backward until it was resting on the sofa’s back, stared blindly up at the ceiling and sighed with much vigor.

“Do you remember how I told you I made a promise to myself the day the social workers came and took Stevie and Charley away from me?”

Her heart turned over at the memory of the vow a small boy had made. “You swore you would find them someday,” she said. “And that the three of you would be a family again.”

He snapped his head forward, his expression vicious as he stared out at the living room. “And I promised myself I’d be in a position to take care of them when I did. That no one would be able to take them from me again. Ever.”

For the first time since encountering him again, Georgia saw a clear sign that the boy of seventeen was still very much alive in Jack McCormick. Part of him was still scared, still unsure of himself, still untrusting of the world. She smiled sadly, wondering why she was surprised. In spite of making it on her own all these years, a big part of Georgia would never be able to leave behind the frightened girl she’d been before meeting Jack.

“But the twins must be over thirty years old now, Jack—”

“Thirty-five,” he interrupted her.

“Surely they’ve been taking care of themselves for years. No one could take them away from you now. They’re adults. They can come and go as they please.”