The Return of Connor Mansfield

As she slid out of the backseat, Connor caught her arm. “Darby.” She faced him, waiting for him to continue. Emotions played over his face, clearly telling her how conflicted he was, deciding what he wanted to say, what he could say. As if he were torn between what was in his heart and the masquerade he was playing.

The longer he hesitated, the more irritated she grew. The Connor she knew had never hedged, never held back from sharing his heart with her. But then, that Connor was dead, wasn’t he? This Connor—or Sam Orlean—had lied about his death, had stayed away for almost five years.

“See you in about an hour,” he said at last, his frown saying he knew how lame he sounded.

“Right.” She snatched her arm from his grip, frustrated, hurt and so angry with him she was shaking.

She hurried back inside the hospital and onto the same elevator car she’d ridden down some forty or so minutes earlier. As the doors closed, she marveled at how the elevator could look the same when her life had changed so completely in such a short time. Connor. Connor was alive!

The air in her lungs stalled, just as it had when she’d recognized the man with the dye-darkened beard and sunglasses in the parking garage. She braced a hand on the wall of the elevator and bent at the waist to catch her breath.

“Are you all right, ma’am?” an orderly on the elevator with her asked.

She peeked up at him and shook her head. “No. Not really.”

They arrived at her floor, the door sliding open with a ding, and she straightened. Flashing a forced smile to the orderly, she stepped off the elevator, waving the hospital employee away when he made a move to help her. “No, thanks.”

“Mommy!” Savannah called to her as she ducked back into her hospital room.

She managed a smile for her daughter and bent to kiss her temple. “Hi, Miss Priss.”

Hunter spun to face her, his phone at his ear, his expression impatient. “Cheese and rice, Darby!” He waved his cell, thumbing the disconnect button. “Why haven’t you answered your phone? I’ve called you at least ten times!”

“Because...” She blew out a deep breath and slapped a hand to her empty shoulder where her purse usually hung. “Crud! I left my purse at the doctor’s office.” Raking a hand through her hair, she dropped her shoulders wearily. “Will you stop by there to let me grab it on our way home?”

He pulled a face. “Uh, yeah. Whatever.” Spreading his hands, he raised his eyebrows and huffed. “Well? What happened? Did you see him?”

Darby cut a side glance to Savannah, then scowled at Hunter. “Ixnay about Onnorcay.”

Hunter looked ready to strangle her. “Just give me a yes or no. Was it him?”

“Did someone die, Mommy?”

Darby faced Savannah, her pulse stumbling. “No, honey. Why?”

“You told somebody on the phone that Connuh was dead.” Savannah wrinkled her nose. “Who’s Connuh?”

“Um...” She fumbled, glancing to Hunter for help. She’d put off telling Savannah about her father until she thought the little girl was old enough to fully understand the concept of death. Then Hunter’s elderly dog had died a few months ago, and she’d had to explain where Bo had gone and why he wouldn’t be back.

But Connor came back.

“Connor is...” She rubbed the spot on her forehead where a killer headache was forming.

“My brother,” Hunter supplied.

Savannah tipped her head in confusion. “But Uncle Gwant is your bwother.” Savannah had just started speech therapy that spring to help her pronounce her Rs, when they’d been handed the challenge of cancer. Rs would have to wait.

Hunter grinned. “A guy can have more than one brother. In fact, I know someone who has seven brothers!”

Savannah’s eyes widened. “That’s a lot of bwothers!” She sank back against her pillow, her face sobering, her tenacious curiosity and keen memory not letting Hunter’s attempt at distraction work. “Did your bwother die like Bo?”

“Um...” Hunter stalled and looked to Darby. “Did he?”

“Priss, why don’t you watch TV while I talk to Uncle Hunter for a minute.” She grabbed the front of his shirt and led him into the tiny bathroom out of Savannah’s earshot.

“What’s going on, Darby?” Hunter asked as she closed the door behind them.

She wiped sweaty palms on the seat of her pants. “Here’s the deal—and you can’t tell anyone about this...”

* * *

While Darby returned to the hospital room to bring Savannah home, Connor and the marshals acquired medical scrubs, a few pieces of medical equipment and a van detailed with Lagniappe Home Health on the side panel. Soon after Darby and Hunter got Savannah home, the faux home health team arrived, and Darby ushered them through her front door. Hiding in plain sight.

“Connor!” Hunter rushed forward as soon as his brother stepped into the foyer, shock and joy reverberating in his voice. “What—? How—?”

As ordered, Darby had given Hunter only the barest of information. Connor was alive. He was in hiding with WitSec. He was in disguise and headed to her house to meet Savannah.

The emotional reunion between the brothers was bittersweet for Darby. Hiding the truth from the rest of Connor’s family gnawed at her. She hated feeling as though she were buying into the lie that hurt and angered her so much, even if she understood Connor’s reasoning for his choice to enter WitSec. And what did she tell Savannah about the man who wanted to meet her?

Connor exchanged a bear hug with Hunter. “It’s a long messy story. One that, I’m afraid, isn’t over yet.”

Hunter stepped back, holding his brother at arm’s length. “What do you mean, it’s not over?”

Connor’s eyes darted back to Darby, and he pulled away from Hunter. “I can explain, but first...”

Marshals Jones and Raleigh lumbered in carrying an oxygen tank and monitoring equipment, part of their cover as health care workers looking after Savannah.

Connor introduced Jones and Raleigh to Hunter, then the two marshals moved into the living room with their load of equipment, leaving Connor to his family reunion. Even having spent forty minutes with him in the marshals’ sedan, having had time for the news to sink in, having conveyed the shocking truth to Hunter, Darby was having trouble wrapping her brain around Connor’s resurrection and return. Seeing him in her house again after almost five years seemed odd. Especially since he’d darkened his hair and sported a beard as part of his cover as Sam Orlean.

Her thoughts were scrambling in too many directions at once to sort them out. Her heart thundered in her chest, and all she could do was stare at the answer to her prayers. As if he felt her attention, Connor turned his head and met her gaze. A tingle of sensation, like receiving a static shock, zipped through her as she stared back at him. She hadn’t forgotten how handsome he was or how her body responded to his rugged good looks, but seeing him again, in the flesh rather than a two-dimensional photo or mistlike memory, was surreal. She felt as if she’d added a sugar high to a caffeine buzz. All her senses were on overdrive, and her emotions were supercharged, tangled and confusing.

“Darby?” The sound of his voice triggered a cascade of moth-balled memories. Her giddy excitement when he’d asked her for their first date. Nights when he’d held her and crooned her name as they made love. Her horror on that foggy morning more than four and a half years ago when she’d seen the charred skeleton of the hunting camp’s cabin.

And the voice of a stranger on the phone just days ago. I’m sorry, Dahr-by.

How could he have abandoned her, deceived her for so many years? Hurt and anger returned with the bite of acid in her gut. She swung at him, reacting before she’d even realized what she was doing. “You left me. Lied to me!”

Her balled fist smacked his chest with all the effect of a pillow hitting a brick wall. His muscled body was still every bit as taut and toned as she’d remembered. She swung again, the fury for the lies and pain she’d suffered because of his deception and desertion surging in her, and he absorbed the blow as if he knew he deserved it.

“Darby, stop. What are you doing?” Hunter wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back. “Calm down, okay? You’ll wake Savannah.”

Another stab of pain slashed through her. Savannah. How many times had she wished Savannah could know her father? And now he was here. To meet his daughter. Yet they couldn’t tell Savannah the truth. It wasn’t fair. How could she draw her daughter into the deceit? And yet, how could she tell her daughter the truth knowing Connor would leave again, return to WitSec with the marshals in a matter of days, hours? Darby knew too well the pain of losing a father, having him blithely walk out of her life.

Her shoulders shook with sobs as she turned and buried her face in Hunter’s shirt. He folded her into a comforting embrace, muttering soothing reassurances.

But no words could calm her. No hug could ease her troubled heart.

Connor was alive, and she had no idea where to start sorting out the tangled web of his lies.