Read Online The Homecoming by Anne Marie Winston - Free Book Online
Authors: Anne Marie Winston
Ads: Link
through them.
Nicholas. Her little Nick, in his soccer uniform, beaming. She remembered more now. Heâd been so thrilled to play on the youngest of the youth league teams last year. In another he was much smaller, little more than a toddler, in a bright yellow and black bumblebee costume complete with tiny antennae on the hood. He carried a plastic pumpkin in one hand, preparing to go trick-or-treating. Several others were posed studio shots, in little bathing trunks on a simulated beach, all dressed up in what was clearly his Easter suit, sitting in pajamas in front of a Christmas fireplace scene.
He was adorable, and he was no longer a cardboardcutout. She remembered his giggle, the way heâd had trouble saying L sâthey came out R s when he was tinyâthe clean smell of his freshly shampooed hair when he sat on her lap for his nightly story. But somethingâ¦something was still missing, and it was driving her crazy. Whatever it was, it hovered right on the edge of her consciousness, but whenever she tried to bring it forward it shied away, back into the shadows. Why couldnât she remember every detail of her sonâs life? She knew the name of his preschool teacher but not his father. It was hard to imagine sheâd been intimate with a man and now she couldnât even remember him. Could her son have been adopted?
An odd sense of panic swelled out of nowhere and she actually leaped to her feet, the purse and its contents spilling onto the floor. Thoroughly agitated, she knelt and began randomly gathering items and shoving them back into the bag.
What on earth was wrong? Her chest felt tight and she rubbed a hand over her breastbone, trying to make herself more comfortable. Sheâd been thinking about her son. Nick. Why would that upset her?
Making an effort to breathe deeply and relax, she opened the knapsack and larger suitcase and deliberately began to remove the items, stacking them neatly in the drawers of the dresser Leilani had told her she was welcome to use. Not that sheâd had anything to put in it initially.
The simple actions calmed her more than anything, handling familiar items, savoring the memories associated with them. The flirty little sundress sheâd shopped for with her mother before sheâd left. The Portland Rose Festival T-shirt, the Oregon Zoo tank top from when sheâd chaperoned Nickâs preschool class, another T-shirtâ Her fingers faltered as she saw the logo on it: Childrenâs Connection.
Childrenâs Connection was a nationally known fertility treatment center and adoption foundation that had started out years ago as a local orphanage and adoption agency. She knew that, could even picture the buildingâs location, attached as it was to Portland General Hospital.
She couldnât explain the returning sense of unease, if not outright panic, that was crawling up her throat again. Hastily, she set the shirt in the drawer with the others and closed it, then put away several pairs of shorts and another sundress.
Danny had said her memory would return, she reminded herself as she took deep, slow breaths. And it had, in bits and pieces. The rest would come. She just had to be patient. Lucky for her, patience was one of her strengths. It had better be, because Danny Crosby was going to require a lot of it.
Thinking of Danny immediately distracted her. She wasâ¦awed by the feelings he awoke in her. There were unspoken wishes in his blue eyes that touched her deep inside, added to the undeniable physical pull they shared.
But what was she thinking? She had to go home. She had to hope she regained the rest of her memory.She had to mother her son. Getting involved with Danny would be a bad, bad idea. Heâd lost his best childhood friend and his own son to abductions. It was a bizarre coincidence, and enough to mess him up for life. Learning that his friend was alive after all these years had to be dredging up all kinds of
Nicholas. Her little Nick, in his soccer uniform, beaming. She remembered more now. Heâd been so thrilled to play on the youngest of the youth league teams last year. In another he was much smaller, little more than a toddler, in a bright yellow and black bumblebee costume complete with tiny antennae on the hood. He carried a plastic pumpkin in one hand, preparing to go trick-or-treating. Several others were posed studio shots, in little bathing trunks on a simulated beach, all dressed up in what was clearly his Easter suit, sitting in pajamas in front of a Christmas fireplace scene.
He was adorable, and he was no longer a cardboardcutout. She remembered his giggle, the way heâd had trouble saying L sâthey came out R s when he was tinyâthe clean smell of his freshly shampooed hair when he sat on her lap for his nightly story. But somethingâ¦something was still missing, and it was driving her crazy. Whatever it was, it hovered right on the edge of her consciousness, but whenever she tried to bring it forward it shied away, back into the shadows. Why couldnât she remember every detail of her sonâs life? She knew the name of his preschool teacher but not his father. It was hard to imagine sheâd been intimate with a man and now she couldnât even remember him. Could her son have been adopted?
An odd sense of panic swelled out of nowhere and she actually leaped to her feet, the purse and its contents spilling onto the floor. Thoroughly agitated, she knelt and began randomly gathering items and shoving them back into the bag.
What on earth was wrong? Her chest felt tight and she rubbed a hand over her breastbone, trying to make herself more comfortable. Sheâd been thinking about her son. Nick. Why would that upset her?
Making an effort to breathe deeply and relax, she opened the knapsack and larger suitcase and deliberately began to remove the items, stacking them neatly in the drawers of the dresser Leilani had told her she was welcome to use. Not that sheâd had anything to put in it initially.
The simple actions calmed her more than anything, handling familiar items, savoring the memories associated with them. The flirty little sundress sheâd shopped for with her mother before sheâd left. The Portland Rose Festival T-shirt, the Oregon Zoo tank top from when sheâd chaperoned Nickâs preschool class, another T-shirtâ Her fingers faltered as she saw the logo on it: Childrenâs Connection.
Childrenâs Connection was a nationally known fertility treatment center and adoption foundation that had started out years ago as a local orphanage and adoption agency. She knew that, could even picture the buildingâs location, attached as it was to Portland General Hospital.
She couldnât explain the returning sense of unease, if not outright panic, that was crawling up her throat again. Hastily, she set the shirt in the drawer with the others and closed it, then put away several pairs of shorts and another sundress.
Danny had said her memory would return, she reminded herself as she took deep, slow breaths. And it had, in bits and pieces. The rest would come. She just had to be patient. Lucky for her, patience was one of her strengths. It had better be, because Danny Crosby was going to require a lot of it.
Thinking of Danny immediately distracted her. She wasâ¦awed by the feelings he awoke in her. There were unspoken wishes in his blue eyes that touched her deep inside, added to the undeniable physical pull they shared.
But what was she thinking? She had to go home. She had to hope she regained the rest of her memory.She had to mother her son. Getting involved with Danny would be a bad, bad idea. Heâd lost his best childhood friend and his own son to abductions. It was a bizarre coincidence, and enough to mess him up for life. Learning that his friend was alive after all these years had to be dredging up all kinds of
Similar Books
