The Homecoming

True, this story was different from his own situation in that the babies were being provided to the wealthy instead of taken from them, but still… Where had Robbie gotten those babies in the first place? Somewhere, some parents’ lives had been changed forever when their child was stolen. The similarities made his stomach churn.

“Where has he been all these years and why didn’t he ever come home?” Anger was beginning to curl around the edges of the shock. “How could he let them—all of us—think he was dead?”

“From what little I know, I don’t think he knew he wasn’t Everett Baker until the woman he thought was his mother passed away a few years ago. He must have been treated pretty badly by the people who had him, and by the time he learned who he really was, he believed the Logans didn’t care about him.”

“But he was six years old when he was taken!” Danny protested. “How could he not remember his family?”

“We don’t know what he went through, Danny.” Trent was quietly reproving. “And you know firsthand the living hell an adult can put a kid through. Maybe he had to forget to survive.”

Danny fell silent. Trent had hit a nerve. Their own mother was a sick, abusive witch. She’d damn near succeeded in making him believe he was worthless, so Trent was right: He shouldn’t be judging Robbie.

Robbie! He couldn’t believe the little boy had lived. For years they’d thought he was dead. The police had even found a child’s body along the Willamette River that had been widely accepted to be Robbie’s. And now here he was, alive!

He had another moment’s pity for some other family still waiting in vain for their little boy to come home. Maybe now that they knew Robbie was alive, the Logans would exhume the child they’d buried. Surely DNA testing was sophisticated enough to figure out who that little victim had been.

“God,” he said slowly. “This creates a host of issues to resolve, doesn’t it?”

“Sure does,” Trent said. “But I’m mostly concerned about how it’s going to affect you.”

Danny shrugged, then realized his brother couldn’t see him. “I don’t think it’s going to, in any significant way. I mean, I’m glad he’s alive, but it’s not going to change my life.”

“No, but it should give you hope. Doesn’t it make you think it’s possible that Noah is still out there somewhere?”

“I don’t think about Noah,” Danny said flatly. “I can’t. It’s terrific that the Logans have found their son, but let’s face it. Most children abducted by strangers are killed within the first few hours if they aren’t found.” And besides, with Noah’s heart defect, he didn’t have much of a chance in the first place. Even if whoever took him hadn’t killed him, they wouldn’t have known that he desperately needed surgery within the next year.

What he didn’t tell his brother was that he knew Noah wasn’t still alive for another reason—because he’d had the misfortune to be Danny Crosby’s son. Danny knew that the therapists he’d once seen would say it was ridiculous, but even now he couldn’t shake the gut-deep certainty that his son’s disappearance was a cosmic payback for his failure to save his little friend all those years ago. And even learning that Robbie had been found alive didn’t alleviate the feeling. Because he hadn’t acted quickly enough, Robbie had been through God only knew what, and he and his family had lost an entire childhood together.

He realized suddenly that there was a strained silence from the other end of the line.

“I do appreciate the call, Trent,” he said. “That’s really good news.” And then he disconnected.

Sydney was still sitting on the lanai having a cup of decaf coffee when her rescuer returned from his telephone call. As Daniel Crosby walked toward her, she studied him from beneath her lashes.

Her host was definitely a hottie. He looked like a young god from a Greek story, with his golden hair and blue, blue eyes. And his build did nothing to detract from the image. He was tall, with wide shoulders that tapered to a slender waist and strong thighs that showed beneath the khaki shorts he wore today with a white sport shirt that hugged his chest, hinting at even more hard, muscled flesh.

She wasn’t looking for a man, but if she were, she’d look twice at him.

Then she stopped with her coffee cup halfway to her lips. She’d just remembered something! She was single, she was sure of it. Not even a fiancé or a boyfriend. She didn’t know how she knew it, but she did.

Then she saw Danny’s face and she immediately set her new knowledge aside. “What’s wrong?”

Danny resumed his seat opposite her at the lovely glass-topped table beneath the umbrella. He sighed. “My brother called with some good news. At least, it’s sort of good news.”

Sydney raised an eyebrow. “Well, that explains why you look as if your last friend in the world just died.”

Danny looked at her strangely. “Actually, it’s the very opposite of that.”

She was intrigued by the statement, and by the air of melancholy that surrounded the handsome man. She’d noticed even through yesterday’s somewhat muddled impressions that Danny rarely smiled. The corners of his mouth turned up a little when something amused him, but his expressions were nearly all variations on a sober theme. What could make a man look like that?

“I’m sorry,” Danny was saying. “You have enough to worry about. How’s your head feeling?”

But she wasn’t going to abandon his moment of sharing, regardless of whether he regretted it. Danny needed someone to talk to, she was certain. It would be a small thing to do in return for what he’d done for her. “My head’s fine,” she said firmly. “Tell me what you meant about your friend.”

Danny hesitated. One long finger traced the rim of his saucer over and over in a gesture she doubted he even knew he was making. “When I was six years old,” he said at last, “my best friend was abducted. A man took him right out of my front yard.”

She was horrified both by the revelation and by what he hadn’t said. “Did you see it happen?” she asked carefully.

He nodded.

“Oh, dear heaven.” Without thinking she reached out and placed her hand atop his. “I’m so sorry.”

He looked surprised as his gaze locked on her face. “Thank you,” he said. “It was a tough thing to go through.”

“I can’t imagine,” she responded. When he didn’t speak, she prompted, “You said you had some good news.”

He nodded. “Apparently, my friend has been found alive. He was living under another name.”

“Wow.” Realizing she was still holding his hand, she released him and tried unobtrusively to draw her own hand back across the table. “That is good news.”

“Yes, but he’s been accused of being involved in a kidnapping ring.”

She shook her head, speechless. Every time he revealed something new, she was sure her mouth was hanging open. “Well,” she finally said, “I can see why you aren’t sure it’s good news. Does his family know?”

“Trent didn’t say. But I’m sure they must. That’s part of what’s so awful. They held a funeral for him—or at least for a child they thought was him—years ago. And the kidnapping ring has been targeting an adoption and fertility clinic called Children’s Connection, which his parents, the Logans, have supported in a big way.”

Children’s Connection. The name hit her like a bolt from a clear blue sky. She must have made some sound or expression of shock, because Danny leaned forward, looking alarmed. “What’s wrong?”

“Children’s Connection is in Portland. Attached to the hospital.”

This time he was the one who took her hand in a strong grip. “That’s right! You remember that? What else?”

“I—I’m not from Portland, I’m from Washington state. But I moved to Portland several years ago.” She felt as if she were swimming underwater with her eyes open, seeing things with the blurred vision the water produced. “And I’m Sydney, Sydney…Aston!” she said triumphantly.

Danny was squeezing her hand tightly and she turned her fingers up without thinking and laced them through his. “That’s terrific,” he said. “You’re remembering.”

He didn’t sound entirely surprised, and she paused in the middle of the returning memories to glance at him. “You knew already, didn’t you?”

“Only your name,” he said. “I didn’t know you lived in Portland. That’s interesting. My family is from Portland.”

“Crosby,” she said, her eyes widening. “You’re one of the Crosby Systems Crosbys?”

“Yeah.” His lips curved upward in that intriguing little smile. “I guess I am.”

“How weird is that, that I should be rescued by someone from my own city?” She shook her head. “How did you know my name, anyway?”

“When I called the police to report finding you, your hotel had reported a woman of your description missing. But the doctor didn’t think I should prompt you.”

“The Marriott,” she said promptly. “So they know I’m all right?” Then something else floated to the surface of her mind. “Good heavens, I’ve got to call my mother. She’ll be frantic, not hearing from me in two days. She’s keeping my son. I have a son! Nicholas.” She smiled crookedly, feeling tears rise. “I can’t believe I forgot him. He’s five and he’s wonderful and I miss him so much.”