Beyond Tuesday Morning (35 page)

Jamie laughed, her eyes still locked on his. “Just don't knock anyone down.”

She took off toward Clay, her red backpack bouncing, and when she reached him, she threw her arms around his waist. He stooped down and handed her a long-stemmed white rose. Then he gave her a red one and nodded toward Jamie.

“Mommy!” Sierra ran the few feet that separated them and handed the flower over. “Here! It's from Clay.”

Jamie stopped and took the rose. She looked at Clay and thanked him with her eyes. A few seconds later she and Sierra were at his side. He leaned close and kissed Jamie. “I missed you.” He spoke the words low, near her ear. “Two days felt like forever.”

“I know.” Her cheeks burned, but she didn't chide herself. So what if she felt like a schoolgirl in Clay's presence? She refused to feel guilty or ashamed. God had brought him into her life, everything about him was a blessing from God. The feelings he stirred in her heart were something everyone should be so blessed to feel.

The three of them went to the baggage area, where they found Jamie's suitcase and Sierra's duffel bag, then they headed for Clay's Jeep. As they walked, Sierra rattled on about Wrinkles staying with the neighbor and how she'd explained the trip to the cat so the cat wouldn't worry about her.

“But did you take the dress-up clothes to the neighbor's house?” Clay tried to look serious. “What will Wrinkles do without his fancy socks for a whole week?”

Sierra giggled and skipped along between them. “You're silly, Clay.”

“Only with my jester hat.”

By the time Jamie and Sierra checked in to their hotel, and the three of them found lunch, the day was almost over. They spent the afternoon touring Hollywood and Malibu Beach.

Every hour or so Jamie remembered that the meeting with Eric was coming. But for the most part her anxiety didn't interfere with the day.

They had dinner at Gladstone's on the beach and were back at the hotel by nine o'clock. Clay walked them to their door and made sure they got inside safely. Sierra was digging through her duffel bag looking for her nightgown when Clay bid them good-bye.

Before he left, Jamie stepped just into the hallway, pulled the door partially shut behind her, and smiled at him. “I can't believe we had dinner on the beach in November.”

“I told you.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “California's not too bad.” His arms circled her waist and drew her close.

“Mmmm.” She looked deep into his eyes. “I'm beginning to see that.”

He searched her face, and it was clear what he was thinking before he said it. “Are you okay? About tomorrow?”

“Yes.” Her smile eased. It was the truth. She was nervous, yes. But not enough to stop her from going ahead with the meeting. “I'm fine.”

“Good.” He took one hand from her waist and slid his fingers along the side of her face. “I'm so glad you came, Jamie.”

“Me too.” He was going to kiss her, and she could hardly wait. But just as he moved closer, a split second before his lips touched hers, Sierra opened the door.

“Hey, guys!” She had her nightgown in her hands. At the sight of the two of them, she giggled.

Jamie exhaled her frustration, then shook her head with a laugh. “Did you need something, dear?”

She giggled again. “My toothbrush.”

“On that note …” Clay took a step back and chuckled. “Guess I better get going.” He winked at Sierra and gave Jamie a look that would make it hard to fall asleep later. “I had a wonderful day.”

“Me too.” Sierra grinned at him, clearly happy that the two of them had been hugging.

“I think we all did.” Jamie hoped he could read her eyes, that given the chance she would've spent as long as he liked kissing him in the hallway. But once again the moment would have to wait.

Clay left, and Sierra was asleep in fifteen minutes. But not Jamie. She lay there, staring at the ceiling, half the time wondering what she was doing, the other half wishing morning would come.

She wasn't sure when she drifted to sleep, but when she woke the next morning, she sat straight up, overcome by a burst of anxiety that made her head spin and left her sick to her stomach. Once as a young girl she visited Six Flags with her parents on a day when there were no lines. Ten rides on the giant wooden roller coaster and she wasn't sure she'd ever feel normal again.

That's how she felt now.

She looked at Sierra, sleeping in the other bed. Maybe they shouldn't have come; she hadn't told Sierra the truth about Eric, that he was Clay's brother. Now it might feel rushed, forced. She wasn't sure why she'd waited so long. Maybe because the news would be difficult for Sierra; maybe because it would be too difficult for herself.

She glanced at her suitcase. She could still do it. Grab her clothes, stuff them inside, wake Sierra, and catch a cab to the airport. It wasn't too late.

The air in the hotel room was stuffy. Jamie stood, went to the window, and opened the drapes. She pressed her forehead against the cool glass and realized she was holding her breath. No wonder the air felt stuffy; she wasn't getting any of it.

She exhaled.

As she did so, she found a point of balance again. She was here because she wanted to be, because the strength of her feelings for Clay Michaels wouldn't be denied. Maybe they would wind up friends, Internet pen pals who kept in touch from opposite sides of the country. Or maybe one day they'd be something much more.

But Eric?

She took in a slow breath and stared at the already busy Ventura Boulevard, just beyond the parking lot. Eric was a nice man with an uncanny resemblance to Jake. But Eric wasn't Jake, nor was he some ex-lover she needed to avoid. He'd never belonged to her, not even when she thought she was married to him.

So what was the problem? Why the nervous stomach and—

“Mommy?”

Jamie spun around and found a quick smile. “Good morning, honey.” She crossed the room and sat on the edge of Sierra's bed. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

She rubbed her eyes and gave Jamie a sleepy grin. “What time is Clay coming?”

“In a few hours.”

It was time to tell Sierra the truth. Jamie brushed her daughter's bangs with her fingertips and felt a lump in her throat. Sierra had been just four when the terrorist attacks hit. Chances were she wouldn't recognize Eric if they passed on the street.

“I like when you play with my hair, Mommy.” Sierra leaned back into the pillow, a dreamy look on her face.

“I like it too.”

Jamie studied her daughter. No, Sierra might not recognize Eric, but what if something serious did come of Jamie's relationship with Clay? One day she would have to know the truth. The same way she'd needed the truth about Eric not being Jake. Sierra deserved to know who Eric was.

Jamie cleared her throat. “Honey, I have something to tell you.” She brushed her knuckles against Sierra's cheek. “Something about Clay's brother.”

Sierra made a face. “Clay's brother? We're having dinner at his place today, right?”

“Yes.” Fear was making a logjam of her throat. Jamie swallowed hard. “Sweetie, this is sort of a strange thing.” She uttered a soft laugh. “I don't really believe it myself, but here's the deal. Remember the man who looked like Daddy? The one in your picture on your dresser?”

Sierra leaned up on her elbows, more interested than before. “My second daddy, the one with his own family.”

“Right, well—” she pursed her lips, searching for the words—“that man is Clay's brother.” She hesitated. “Isn't that strange?”

“Clay's brother is Mr. Michaels, the man we thought was Daddy?” Sierra sat all the way up now, her eyes wide.

“Yes.” Jamie slumped. Clearly Sierra thought about Eric; otherwise she wouldn't have remembered his name. She clenched her fists. “I'm sorry, honey. I didn't know about this when I met Clay that day on the ferryboat. I just found out a little while ago.”

“They're brothers?” Sierra looked toward the window, eyes distant.

“Yes.” Jamie braced herself for what was ahead. Sierra might break down and cry, even be afraid to see the man again. Or maybe she would be confused, unwilling to go to the Thanksgiving dinner.

Instead Sierra turned her eyes back to Jamie and clapped her hands. “So I get to see Clay
and
Mr. Michaels, all in one day?”

Once again Jamie couldn't draw a breath. She was too intent on her daughter, waiting for the bad reaction she'd been dreading. “You're … you're not upset?”

“No.” Sierra's eyes danced. “Remember, Mommy? I told you I wanted to see him again, the man I thought was my daddy.” She grinned. “Now I get to.” Her feet slid over the edge of the bed and she hopped onto the floor. “It's going to be the bestest Thanksgiving Day ever.”

“But he's not your daddy.” Jamie searched her daughter's eyes. “You understand that, right?”

Sierra's smile faded. “Daddy died in the Twin Towers.” She paused, thoughtful. “Mr. Michaels might look like him, but he isn't him. I know that.”

Jamie exhaled. All that worry, all the dread, and of the two of them, her daughter had the best grip on the situation. Jamie felt herself relax, and almost at the same time she looked at the clock. “Yikes.” She tousled Sierra's long golden hair. “We'd better get ready.”

Anxiety played with Jamie's mind while she showered and did her hair, even into the final minutes before Clay arrived. But the moment she saw him, her fears faded. They hugged, and his eyes held the questions she'd been asking herself all morning.

“I'm fine.” She grabbed her purse and Sierra's hand. “Let's go have Thanksgiving dinner.” She grinned at her daughter. “Sierra says it's going to be the bestest one yet.”

They left the room happy and laughing and looking forward to the day. Because no matter how strange or bizarre the situation was, no matter how uncomfortable she might feel in Eric's house, meeting his wife, watching him with his family, it didn't matter.

Her feelings for Clay Michaels were stronger.

Eric looked out the window for the fifth time in as many minutes. His heart thudded deep within him, the way it did every time he stopped moving. They would be there any minute, Clay and Jamie and Sierra.

He understood his pounding heart. It simply wouldn't believe it was possible. Clay went to New York City and met Jamie Bryan? The woman he'd learned to love in those terrible days after September 11? The woman he'd worked so hard to put out of his mind?

There had been no wavering in Clay's voice when he called. His feelings for Jamie were strong and certain. Yes, she'd struggled with the idea that the two of them were brothers. She hadn't planned on seeing him again, any more than he'd planned on seeing her. But apparently she'd reached some sort of resolution in her mind, because she had flown to Los Angeles with Sierra, and now—at any time—she would be there.

Jamie Bryan. Walking into his world.

The last time they were together they'd had an emotional intimacy that was typically reserved for married couples. And why not? For more than two months they both believed they were married.

And what about Sierra?

It had killed him to tell her good-bye. He remembered it still, his last morning with her, curling her hair and holding back tears as she chattered about her little friend. Katy, wasn't it? And how nice it was that Mommy was going to church with them. And he had told her that next week maybe Mommy should curl her hair, that Mommy might do an even better job than him.

Eric pushed the memories away and stared out the window, searching for Clay's Jeep.

They'd told Josh the facts, that his uncle Clay had met up with the woman Eric had lived with. They'd told their son about Eric's time in New York before. But the blank look on Josh's face the other day told Eric that at eleven years old, his son still didn't quite understand. He seemed content that his parents were happy; nothing else mattered.

Josh was upstairs getting ready now; same with Laura.

A car pulled onto their street, but it was too small to be Clay's. Eric had to watch for them, had to see them pull up. Because unless he saw it for himself, he wouldn't believe it. Jamie Bryan? About to walk through his door? Not just Jamie, but Sierra. Sweet little Sierra, the little girl who captured his heart from the moment he woke up in a New York hospital with amnesia.

She would be … how old? Seven, at least.

The memories stirred in his soul, lifting and falling and taking wind like the last remains of autumn's fallen leaves.

Had it been three years since that final good-bye? He could see it all, feel the emotions from that day. The way he'd hugged Sierra in the entryway of her home, hours before his flight back to Los Angeles. He and Jamie had agreed to keep up the facade, pretending he was her daddy. She was too young to understand anything different. And so, in keeping with the act, he bid her good-bye the way he might've any other time. He played with her curls and at her request he promised to give her a horsie ride that night when he returned.

Only he never returned. Because by then he'd figured out who he was and where he belonged. Two hours later he stood in LaGuardia Airport telling Jamie good-bye, hugging her, holding her. Thanking her for helping him find his way back. They held hands until the last minute, when Laura appeared in the distance with a stream of passengers.