Lost Cause

That moment of…whatever it had been—it was natural. Normal. His version of his sister’s tears.

Giving a grunt of amusement, he thought, What d’you know, Holly Lynn. I do get emotional.

NO ENORMOUS BLACK-AND-CHROME motorcycle sat in front of her house or in her driveway.

Suzanne got out of her car and looked at the blank windows of the house. Had she imagined that her brother had been here at all?

“Hey,” her neighbor said behind her. “How’d it go?”

She hadn’t heard his truck or a door, but there he stood, just on his side of the property line. Today he wore a gray suit, white shirt and dark tie. Lowering her gaze, she saw that his black shoes gleamed. Of course.

“It?”

His brows rose. “Wasn’t that woman from the adoption agency coming today?”

Of course that’s what he was talking about! He didn’t know about her brother.

“We…had to reschedule,” she said. “I had an unexpected visitor. You may, um, see him around. He’ll be staying here for a couple of weeks.”

She hoped.

Her neighbor’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Your ex-husband?” he asked, with noticeable reserve.

Her cheeks heated at the very introduction of a topic they had never discussed, and never would if she had anything to do with it.

“My brother.”

The brows went higher. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“I haven’t seen him in a long time. Years.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “I’m glad that you mentioned he’s here. In case I see a stranger going in and out.”

“Thank you again for mowing the lawn,” she said to his back as he started toward his house.

“Any time.”

He’d gone in his front door before Suzanne shook herself and went up the walk to her own door. When she let herself in, the house felt like always: empty.

Gary hadn’t returned.

She peeked in the guest room to see if he’d come and gone, perhaps leaving a bag here. But it looked just as she’d left it.

What if he didn’t return? Had she somehow scared him away? She didn’t know how, except maybe for the tears she’d shed on his chest. His stiffness had told her he wasn’t used to comforting women in the midst of emotional storms.

But he hadn’t left then. So why the panic later?

She wandered restlessly, unable to settle down to knitting or even television. She’d been so eager to see Gary again, she hadn’t even taken the day’s receipts by the bank—she’d just thrown the money in a bag and brought it home.

It was getting easier to think of him as Gary instead of Lucien. Lucien still was and probably always would be the little boy of her memory, skinny, quick, full of energy and intense highs and lows.

Her mother would try to put him down for a nap and, by the time he was a year old, invariably fail. “Just a short nap,” she’d beg, and he’d giggle or scream, depending on his mood. Suzanne had thought it was funny, only now as an adult understanding her mother’s exhaustion and frustration. How brave she’d been to have another baby so soon! Or perhaps she just hadn’t used birth control because of her faith. Suzanne didn’t think of her parents as devout, but they had considered themselves Catholic and gone to church now and again.

If they’d lived, would they have kept having babies? Maybe she’d have been the oldest of eight, or ten. If so, she would have spent her youth diapering and babysitting instead of mourning and rebelling.

She would have to ask Aunt Marie sometime. She might know if her sister took birth control pills or considered them a sin. If nothing else, she’d undoubtedly cleaned out the medicine cabinet along with the rest of the house when it was to be sold.

Suzanne checked her voice mail, but there was no message.

The phone in her hand, she hesitated. Gary hadn’t wanted her to call Carrie right then, but there was no reason not to now, was there?

Her mind made up, she dialed.

A boy answered. “Hello, Kincaid residence,” he said by rote.

“Hey, Michael. It’s Aunt Suzanne.” As always, she marveled at being an aunt. Okay, not by blood, but what difference did that make? Michael was one of the world’s great kids. She asked about his day and they talked for a minute before she asked, “Is your mom home?”

“Yeah! Mommy!” he yelled.

Suzanne winced.

A moment later, her sister came on. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Suzanne said.

“How did it go?” Carrie asked eagerly.

There was that “it” again. No surprise that Carrie thought she was going to get a report on the dreaded, but eagerly awaited, home visit. “It was postponed,” Suzanne said.

“Oh, no! What an awful thing to do to you! Now you’ll have to keep worrying, and clean again, and—”

“It wasn’t them, Carrie,” Suzanne interrupted. “She came.”

“Then…then what happened?” her sister asked in puzzlement.

“When I answered the door, I noticed this guy sitting on his motorcycle out front. I commented, and Rebecca—the adoption counselor—said, ‘That guy says he’s your brother.’”

A quick rush of breath told her Carrie guessed.

“Lucien?” she whispered.

“It was him.” Her voice caught. “I started to cry and flung myself into his arms. Rebecca said she’d call me to reschedule.”

“He really came? Just like that? No warning? No…” Amazement was morphing into indignation.

“Who needs warning? He came, Carrie.” Wonder spread in Suzanne’s chest, a warm glow. “I hugged him. We talked.”

On a note of alarm, Carrie asked, “Why are you saying that in the past tense? He’s still there, isn’t he?”