Finders Keepers (48 page)

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Authors: Fern Michaels

BOOK: Finders Keepers
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Jessie wrapped her arms around her knees as she rocked back and forth, tears rushing down her cheeks. “They kidnapped me! They stole me from my parents! Oh, Luke!”
“Shhh, it's going to be all right.”
“I thought I was adopted. Sophie ran this investigative report on my parents. She was always doing stuff like that. There really wasn't much in the report. My parents lived in Atlanta. Then they moved to California after my sister died. We moved to Charleston, South Carolina, the year I started kindergarten. There was no record, according to the report, of my birth in California or of an adoption. It could have taken place somewhere else, I suppose. I had this cockamamie idea I was adopted, and that's why I tried to trick my parents into coming here. I was going to confront them. Kidnapped!”
“This is what we're going to do. You read through the first scrapbook, I'll read the second one. You do the third, and I'll do the last one. When we're finished we'll compare notes. I want you to think in terms of a Christmas miracle. Think about it, Jessie. I can take you there. You can walk right up to the door and . . . and . . . say who you are. In my eyes that's a miracle.”
They read silently, the dogs snuggled between them for over two hours. When they packed up the box, Jessie turned to Luke. “My father used to call me Hannah Banana. I still don't remember.”
“It doesn't matter anymore if you remember or not. It's all here. Trust me when I tell you, your parents will know you the minute they lay eyes on you. Do you have any pictures of yourself when you were little?”
“No, but Sophie had albums in her room of the two of us together. I could call the housekeeper and have her pack them up and take them to the airport for the first flight out. She's probably still awake. She told me she only catnaps. I could . . . pick them up and . . . how long will it take to drive to North Carolina, Luke?”
“A long time. I don't think either one of us is in a condition to drive. We could charter a plane. You can afford it, Jessie. You could be there for Christmas Eve. Jesus, what a whopper of a miracle. Do it, Jessie. Call the housekeeper.”
“Okay.” Ten minutes later, she said, “She's going to do it. We'll have the albums by ten o'clock. What if they don't remember me? What if they stopped loving me? Maybe I need more time to think about this. What if they moved away?”
“They didn't move away. They still live in the same house. They have a dog named Jelly, third generation. Your mother says each time the phone rings or the doorbell sounds, she thinks it might be news of you. There are all kinds of things about you in those articles. You can read them on the plane, line by line, word by word. Your parents sound like wonderful, loving people.”
“We're taking the dogs,” Jessie hiccuped.
“Damn right we're taking the dogs.”
“Is it okay then that I don't feel any grief for . . . for Mrs. Roland?”
“Yes, Jessie, it is.”
“I guess that's why my . . . Mr. Roland worded the cable the way he did.”
“I imagine he's gone underground. There's no statute of limitations that I know of on kidnapping. He could still go to prison if they find him. I'm glad he had the good sense to send these scrapbooks to you before he left.”
“So many years, so much lost time. How will I ever get that back? God, I wish Sophie was here.”
“You can't get it back, Jessie. You have the rest of your life to look forward to.”
“God, Luke, I can't wait. Do I look okay? What should I wear? We have no presents to take.”
“I don't think you're going to need any presents. You look beautiful. You could probably show up in a bathrobe, and it wouldn't make any difference.”
“I need a red sweater, Luke. I can't go without a red sweater.”
“Then we'll get you a red sweater first thing in the morning.”
“Luke, I just realized something. I have a home. A real home. All my life I've felt rootless, like I was a guest wherever I was. I really have a home. Do you realize what a wonderful word that is? Home is where you belong. Until now I never belonged.” Hard, driving sobs tore at her throat. “How could they do that? Why? I want to hate them.”
“No. Let it go. Don't look back. You have a whole new life ahead of you. Don't spoil it with ugly memories. I'm going to call the airport now to see about chartering a plane. I want to go with you, Jessie.”
“And I want you with me. I'm going to sit here with the dogs and drink this wonderful, delicious tea.”
“Good girl. Hey, Jessie, I love you.”
“Guess what, Luke Holt, I love you, too.”
 
A light snow was falling when Luke opened the door of the rental car for Jessie. Dressed warmly, she shivered, not with cold but with anxiety as she fixed the leashes on Jelly and Fred. “It looks so cozy, so
Christmasey,
with the colored lights and the wreath on the door. We never had any kind of outdoor decoration, not even a wreath. The tree was always artificial. It's so warm-looking. Oh, Luke, I don't remember it at all.”
“No one said you have to remember.”
“Maybe I'm not Hannah Larson. Maybe this is all some horrible mistake. I should remember
something
. Just one little thing. I want so bad to remember something. I
need
to remember, Luke.”
“When you're inside, something may strike you. It will take time, Jessie. It's Christmas Eve, a time of miracles. Be open. Shift into neutral. Take deep breaths. This is going to be the best ever Christmas for all of you. Ready?”
“No,” Jessie wailed. “Maybe we should look in the windows or maybe we should walk around a little, you know, to get the feel of it.”
“No, we don't need to do that. We need to walk up to the door and ring the bell. I hear a dog barking. That has to mean he's picked up our scent and knows we're out here. It's going to be everything you ever dreamed of, Jessie. All you have to do is put one foot in front of the other and walk up the steps to the porch. I'm right beside you, the dogs are here.
Do
it!”
Minutes later, Jessie jabbed at the bell with shaking fingers. She took a step backward, her hold on the dogs' leashes secure.
She's
a
pretty woman,
and she
looks like
a
mother,
Jessie thought. There was a smile on her face as she wiped her hands on her apron. “Goodness, I didn't expect carolers so early. I just finished the supper dishes. Would you like to come in? It's snowing, isn't it. I always think snow on Christmas Eve is kind of special. Please, come in. Don't worry about the animals. I have one of my own.”
“We . . . we aren't carolers,
Mama.
I think my name is Hannah and these are my dogs Jelly and Fred and my friend Luke. Are you my mother?”
“Bennnnnn!”
Jessie looked at the man coming toward her. “I think you used to call me Hannah Banana. You are my parents, aren't you?” she pleaded, her eyes filling with tears.
“Dear God,” was all Grace could say.
Ben struggled with what he was seeing, his arm around his wife. “And what was it you always said in response?” he asked, his voice so strangled-sounding only Jessie understood what he was saying.
“Mash 'em up, Daddy.” Jessie blurted, drawing the words from somewhere deep within her.
“Dear God,” Grace said again.
“There was a whistle hanging on my bed. To call all the good fairies if I had a bad dream. Jelly had a blanket of his own. I had one just like it. You made them for us.”
Grace started to sob as she opened her arms to her daughter.
“We never gave up hope,” Ben said as he gathered his wife and daughter close.
Luke smiled. The dogs eyed each other warily.
“Do I have brothers or sisters?” Jessie asked, her eyes brimming with tears.
“You have two brothers. They're at their girlfriends' houses for Christmas. They'll be home for New Year's. We have no manners, Ben. Please, give me your coats. Can I fix you something to eat. I have a wonderful ham and homemade bread with some special relish I make myself.”
“I'd love some,” Luke said.
“Me too. We didn't have time to buy presents.”
“Shucks, no presents are needed. Your mom bought you a red sweater. This year it was a cashmere one. It's soft as a feather,” Ben said proudly. “Every year at Christmas she buys you a sweater, wraps it, and puts it under the tree. Then after New Year's we take it up to the attic. There's a bunch of them just waiting for you.”
“I love red sweaters. Was I wearing one that . . . day?”
“Yes. You had a cold. I wanted you to stay warm.”
They talked all night long.
 
In church the next day their eyes shone with tears when the minister announced to the congregation that Hannah Larson had finally returned to her parents.
In the driveway, on their return from church, Ben said, “Do you remember what we used to do in the snow?”
“You bet I remember,” Jessie said, flopping down in the snow. “Snow angels! Little ones and big ones. Oh, God, this is so wonderful. I hate to leave.”
“Leave?” the Larsons said in unison.
Jessie dusted the snow off her coat. “Yes. I have to leave. I have a promise to keep. I don't think you'd be very proud of me if I didn't honor it. Luke, I . . . you're going to have to go to Penn State alone.”
“What do you have to do, honey?” Grace asked.
“I have to build a bridge for someone I loved with all my heart. I don't know how long it's going to take me to do it or even how I'm going to do it or where I'm going to do it, but I am going to do it. I'd like to leave knowing my child and I will be welcome when I return. Luke . . . tell me you understand. I don't want any promises because I can't make any in return. I want you all to know I love you, and you will be in my heart every single day until I return.”
“Each of us has to do what we think best. Your mom and I aren't going anywhere anytime soon. We'll wait. Forever if necessary,” Ben said. Grace nodded.
“Sophie would be so proud of you, Jessie,” Luke said. “Do what you have to do. Trains, buses, and planes can take you to Penn State every day of the week. What about the dogs?”
“They're part of my family. They go with me. Merry Christmas, everyone.”
“Merry Christmas!”
Epilogue
The man astride the chestnut mare shielded his eyes from the sun as he watched the mailman pack the ranch mailbox with a hefty amount of mail. Bills, catalogues his mother no longer ordered from, ranch bulletins, and more bills. He reached down for the mail to rifle through it. Who in the hell would be writing him from Nairobi, Africa? From the feel of the packet it had to be someone wanting something. He almost tossed it into his saddlebag with the rest of the mail and then decided,
What the
hell, I need a
laugh today. It's probably from stupid J.J.
Tanner's eyebrows shot up to his hairline as he pushed the Stetson farther back on his head. Jessie! What the
hell
is Jessie doing in
Africa?
He ripped at the envelope, aware that his hands were trembling. After all this time.
Dear Tanner,
I
hope
you're
well
and
everything is working out
satisfactorily
at
the ranch.
I also
want to send my condolences on your father's death.
We have
a son,
Tanner. He's three now.
I
talk to him
about
you on
a
daily basis.
I call
it our quality time. To my
dismay,
he looks exactly like
you.
He
adores
this country
and
has more
playmates
than he knows what to do with. He
already
knows his letters
and
numbers. He's
a
sturdy little boy. He's warm, loving, polite,
and
caring.
I
told
him
when we return to the States
we'll
visit his daddy.
I'm doing my best to honor Sophie's last request. It hasn't been easy, but you know me, I never give up. Once you asked me what I was going to do with all of Sophie's money, and I told you I didn't know. Now I know. I'm building a bridge. It's a hell of a bridge, Tanner, and it costs a bloody fortune. When it's completed, and I don't know when that will be, I'm calling it the Sophie Ashwood Bridge. Knowing diddly-squat about building a bridge, I'm amazed I got this far. Determination and love I guess. I did manage to hire the best engineers and contractors I could find. For all I know, my life's work may be building bridges. Wish me luck.
If you have time, drop me a line. Send along a picture of yourself and your parents for our son. I named him Angus Tanner Larson Kingsley. The enclosed clippings will explain everything. I finally met my real family. It was so wonderful, there are no words to describe the feeling. They're all coming over here this summer. I have two brothers. I have definitely been blessed. Sometimes I think it's all a dream.
I wanted to make a settlement with you before I left, but my life got in the way. The enclosed is from my heart, Tanner. I want my child's father to have as good a life as he and I have.
I haven't heard from Luke in months. I guess he likes teaching and working summers being a ranger. I think life is getting in his way, too. I suppose some things are just not meant to be. Give my regards to your mother. I'm enclosing a picture of Angus with a baby elephant he calls Polly. We're happy, Tanner.
Affectionately,
Jessie and Angus
“I'll be a son of a gun!” Tanner said slapping his Stetson on his leg. He stared at his likeness so long his eyes started to water. The picture went into his shirt pocket as he picked through the papers. A deed to a Greek island. “Well, hey, I can handle that,” he chortled. The deeds to two Greek shipping tankers, an art gallery in Milan, and a bank account in a Swiss bank with so many zeros it made him dizzy.
Tanner looked out across the dry, dusty fields and the few head of cattle that remained. Then he looked toward the horizon, wondering how many miles it was to Africa and how long it would take to get there.
Angus Tanner Larson Kingsley. It was a hell of a name.
“Way to go, Jessie.”

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