Ransomed Dreams (24 page)

Lack of sleep all week and the emotional turmoil from last Friday’s dinner with Angela still weighed heavy. But spending time with James and his way of lighting up the room had made it a good day. After all, it was Steven’s birthday. He deserved one day to forget the world’s cares.

“Happy birthday Daddy!” James hollered for about the tenth time that day “I love you!” He ran in and opened his arms wide for a hug.

Steven picked up his son and held him a moment longer than usual. The sweet scent of childhood and the softness of James’s hair, being wrapped in his strong little arms, brought a rush of memories. His little boy was fast becoming a miniature man, his heart still soft, undamaged by life … so far.

Angela’s face on their wedding day flashed across Steven’s mind. Followed close by the day she left him mingled with the images of her recent appearance back into his life. Her demand for time with James. Full custody. The threat couldn’t be escaped, birthday or no birthday.

James pulled back and looked him in the eyes. “Daddy are you okay?”

“Yes.” Steven received another bear hug. “Thanks for making this the best birthday ever.”

“I’m glad you’re not working today.” James had no idea how that comment cut to the core. “Do you really think Mrs. Lang will come over tomorrow and eat some of our cake?” No mention of Angela, as if meeting his mother had never happened.

Steven’s thoughts swirled with training quotes about children’s resiliency to stress. Maybe meeting Angela hadn’t been as problematic as he feared it would be. Then again, James was so much like him it hurt. Bury it deep and smile.

Steven looked up at the sound of masculine throat-clearing. Dad and Sue grinned from the kitchen doorway just as they had earlier when James insisted they invite Gracie to join them after church. His son’s motives were obvious. So were Dad and Sue’s.

“I’ll ask her, James. I know she enjoys spending time with you.” Steven glanced at their lopsided chocolate cake and smiled. “And I think she’ll also like the cake.”

“We’d better get a move on if we’re going to be any help setting up.” Sue held out her hand to James.

“I love you, James.” Steven mouthed a heartfelt
thank you
to his dad and stepmom.

“I love you too!”

Steven watched them leave, then took a long look in the foyer mirror, staring at his reflection. Clint and Sara must have been praying hard this week, because Steven’s thoughts kept flying back to God and how to rid himself of the haunted look in his eyes. How to keep his son from falling under his ex-wife’s spell, especially if Angela kept showing up at school and hounding him about time alone with James. Time Steven wasn’t ready to give.

The grandfather clock in the living room chimed five times. If he was going to smooth things out with Gracie before the party like he’d tried and failed to do all week at school, he’d better hustle.

He headed upstairs to get ready and took his usual five-minute shower and then slipped into jeans and a white
button-up. He grabbed his key ring by the back door, then started the thirty-minute drive to Gracie’s little brick house. The one with paintings that quoted Scripture. He shook his thoughts loose and turned on the radio for something to lighten his mood.

Some soft rock, even if it was on an oldies variety station, would do the trick. Windows down, tunes up, crooning to Dobie Gray’s seventies hit
Drift Away
made the fall air feel like an endless summer night.

By the time he stood on Gracie’s front porch with a bouquet of daisies and red and yellow carnations, he felt human again. Taking a beautiful date to his birthday party for the first time in years reminded him of Friday night football games in high school—teenaged hormones on alert and heart aching with dreams about forever.

He’d been married long enough to know what his teenaged hormones hadn’t known, but he wasn’t old enough yet to have forgotten. Not by a long shot.

Gracie opened the door wearing a fitted white blouse over a red-and-black plaid skirt. His mouth curled into a huge grin. She’d remembered his college colors. Or she and Sara Rollins had been talking. Maybe he read more into it than intended, but right now he didn’t care.

“You look incredible. I’m glad you accepted my invitation.” He stuck the flowers into her hands before he said something high schoolish and inane. Or drooled.

Gracie blushed.

He chuckled and watched her golden retriever nose his way out the front door. “Hey, Jake. Not gonna knock me down this time?” Steven rubbed the dog’s fur.

“Thank you for the flowers. They’re wonderful.” Gracie stepped back and held the door open wide.

He followed her graceful walk down the hall with his eyes and then willed his feet to move forward. “I know I’m a little early.” He closed the front door and sucked in a deep breath. “But
I’d hoped we’d have a few minutes to talk about what happened with Angela last week and clear the air between us.”

Arranging the flowers into a crystal vase, Gracie nodded and pointed to a tall white breakfast bar chair. “You really don’t have to explain anything, Steven.”

He pulled the chair out and sat down. “But I want to. My partner will have my hide if I keep messing up dates with you. He and Sara think you’re the best thing since sliced bread.” He grimaced inwardly at the cliché. “I mean, they think you’re an awesome teacher and … so do I. I’d like to continue building on the good time we had on our first date.”

“Then why don’t we save the heavier discussion for after the party?” Gracie put a hand over her stomach. “I’m nervous enough as it is, wondering who I’ll be meeting and what you’ll think of the gift I have for you.”

A gift? He hadn’t considered telling her not to buy anything, but there hadn’t been many conversations between them. “I’m sure I’ll love the gift, and you already know the Rollinses and my parents from school. No reason to be nervous there. They like you.”

His smile didn’t seem to assuage her fears.

“All righty then.” She scurried to the den, stopping by the couch, and held out a large blue-and-white striped gift bag. “Would you like to open it now?”

He joined her in the den and sat on her overstuffed beige couch. Then he remembered a gentleman should remain standing in the presence of a lady Too late.

She sat on the far side of the couch and extended the slightly quivering bag in his direction. He milked the moment for all it was worth, slowly taking the bag and carefully lifting out each piece of blue tissue paper surrounding a large, thin square.

“You’re not being kind. Just open it already.” She rolled her eyes.

It was hard not to laugh. This little interaction was far more fun than he’d expected. He bowed toward her. “As you wish.”

She giggled.

Ripping through tissue paper taped on the large square, Steven held the old-fashioned vinyl record of greatest hits in his hands. The simple pearlized cover with a list of song titles like “Sweet Baby James” and “Something in the Way She Moves” grabbed his heart and didn’t let go. “You remembered?”

“Even if you are too young to be a James Taylor fan, I thought you’d like the album.”

Her smile stirred up more than gratitude in his chest. “You can tell a lot about a person from the gifts she gives.” He held up the record but looked over the top of it, taking in every line of her beautiful oval face. “This says you’re observant, thoughtful, and someone I want to know better.”

She lowered her head and started picking up the pieces of tissue paper between them.

He stood, tucked the prized album under his arm, and extended his other hand. “We’d better head over to Clint’s house. Don’t want to miss the party.”

Or let himself get carried away by haunting nostalgia driven by a longing more potent than fire. Any more time alone with Gracie and he’d be singing with his new JT album about not wanting to be lonely tonight.

Clint checked his watch for the fourth time in fifteen minutes. His living room had filled with balloons and little-kid laughter.

But no Steven.

Steven’s parents, Michael and his perfect-ten date, and a few other squad members and their wives milled about eating Sara’s amazing hors d’oeuvres. It wasn’t like Steven to be late. Or Gracie.

Steven had called half an hour ago saying he and Gracie were going to take a short drive and listen to his birthday gift. Not the vinyl record, but Steven’s CD of the same James Taylor hits. Gracie had scored big with that gift.

Clint smiled. Then he pulled back the front drapes and watched the driveway.

Sara slipped her arms around his waist. “They’re all grown up, cowboy. And it’s not like it’s midnight and they’re parked somewhere making out.”

“That gives me an idea for tonight.”

Sara poked him in the ribs and huffed at the ceiling.

A few minutes later, Steven pulled up in his spit-and-polished SUV and walked to the passenger side to retrieve Gracie. They shared a long look before he tucked her hand around his arm.

“Now if that doesn’t make the fall air sizzle.” Sara wiggled her eyebrows.

Praying must have done more than he and Sara had asked or expected.

Steven gave a knock, then entered.

Clint followed his almost skipping wife into the foyer to meet them. “Hey, you two. Glad you could make it.”

Sara nudged him with her elbow. “So, how’s the birthday boy?” She gave Steven a hug then turned to Gracie. “Welcome. I’m so glad you’re here. Come on in and join the chaos.”

Gracie extended a pie carrier. “Hope you don’t mind that I made a peach cobbler for your family to enjoy later.”

Sara took the dessert with an amused smile. “Thank you. Why don’t you all follow Clint into the living room, and I’ll store this away so no one devours it before dinner.”

Clint’s stomach rumbled. Gracie had scored points in his book too.

Steven stage-whispered into Gracie’s ear. “See? They like you.”

Her face blazed as she leaned into Steven’s arm. Her eyes scanned the room, settling on Sara’s favorite painting of a beach at sunset over the fireplace. Not his thing, but Gracie seemed to like it.

“Your home is beautiful, Clint.” Her blush had faded, and her shoulders relaxed a little. Good sign.

“Thanks.” Before Clint could ask about their little drive, Steven scooped James into his arms and made his way around the room with introductions and polite conversation, spending the most time with Andrew and Sue. The wink from father to son was not lost on Clint. Or Gracie either.

Only Michael’s fidgeting as they talked shop about the Kensington case hinted at any less-than-calm emotions around the small group. The rookie was probably anxious to get on with the rest of his plans for the night.

Clint winced inside. He needed to stop reading into Michael’s actions. Steven had been right. Michael was changing. Not singing in the choir yet, but he’d done almost a 180 from the playboy image he’d been touting when he first started working for the Bureau.

Soon the smells of steak and homemade rolls filled the house. As everyone took a seat in front of the place cards that James and Susannah had decorated with leaves and brown raffia, Clint stood at the head of the table to offer the blessing.

“Lord, we thank You for this night to celebrate with friends. We lift the Kensingtons to You and ask Your guidance in all the work of our hands that’s never far from our minds.” He peeked at his kids to be sure they were behaving. Susannah caught his gaze and smiled, then closed her eyes and bowed her head. He continued.

“But tonight, we pause to give thanks for great food, for Steven making it to thirty-six, and for all the good You still have in store for him and each one of us. Amen.”

Sara’s spicy blend of Caesar dressing and tons of salad veggies disappeared as fast as the shoptalk had when the kids all took their seats.

“So when are the roasting stories about my son going to start? You promised a good show tonight, Clint.” Andrew Kessler’s blue eyes held as much mischief as Steven’s sometimes did.

Steven groaned. “Thanks a lot. Dad. Just wait till your birthday. Paybacks and all, you know.”

“We could always start with Steven’s storming into that factory basement to rescue the eight-year-old twins a few years back.” Michael loved retelling the story he’d heard through office gossip.

Whoever said women were the only ones who told tons of tales hadn’t been in the headquarters’ break room during a decompression session.

Clint took over before Michael had the chance to give more details than young ears needed to hear. “That was a Superman moment if there ever was one, huh, Steven?”

His partner shook his head. “For the uninitiated, that little story has been inflated over the years. All I did was break up a blackjack game and miss a few punches before finding two adorable little girls with cornrows hiding in a back room.”

“Breaking up an organized crime game room is more like it.”

Clint shot Michael a look and nodded toward the children at the other end of the large dining room. “Like I said, it was one of Steven’s more heroic moments.”

“Not at all like his Quantico days, though.” Michael was asking for a beating at the gym when they practiced takedowns next week.

Gracie’s puzzled look at the other agents’ laughter made Clint remember his manners. “Suffice it to say Steven tried to sleep through some classes when our benevolent teachers thought he needed to pay more attention.” Clint watched Steven study his almost empty plate. “One time, we all had to do laps because Steven’s snoring was loud enough to make our profiling instructor hit the roof. A member of our class hated running so much that he targeted Steven for a little righteous indignation.”

“To the tune of trying to make my face meet the mud every time we passed Agent Lechter.” Steven smirked. “He got me once. Then I used some of Clint’s fancy Texas sidesteps, and the poor guy met more mud than the Amazon River in the rainy season.”

Gracie put her napkin up to her mouth to catch the sweet tea that almost escaped. “You didn’t?”

“Sure enough did.” Steven nudged her with his shoulder and then draped a protective arm around her chair.

Interesting.