12

Saffron strode toward Tyson, trying to summon all the indignant anger she’d felt last night, but the words he’d spoken then made it difficult. Something happened eight and a half years ago, something that had put the betrayed expression in his eyes.

Now those eyes, dark and compelling, didn’t leave her face and made her think of those days when she knew he loved her more than life. If anything, he looked better than he had last night. Just don’t smile, she thought.

Then he did just that. Her stomach did a crazy little flip-flop as it had when she was sixteen. Stupid.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he said. “Afterwards, I talked to my mother. She told me things . . .” He shook his head. “I had it wrong, and I should have known better. Please, can we talk?”

Her eyes couldn’t help taking in his face—the defined shape of his nose, the little scar on his cheekbone that he’d earned on the football field, the dark lashes that had limited his selection of sunglasses because they were so long. And, of course, the smile.

“Well?”

Right. She should say something about now. “Sure. Let me change out of this skirt, and I’ll meet you down here.”

“If you don’t mind, I can walk with you.”

She gave a little snort. “I’m not going to run away.”

His smile widened, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “You always used to do that when you thought something was funny. I’ve missed that sound.”

I missed your smile, your smell, your hand on mine. She shook herself a little. “Okay, you can walk with me.”

They were quiet until they entered the elevator and he said, “Kendall’s a nice kid.”

Saffron let the door slide shut. “She’s pregnant.”

“What?” He shook his head. “That idiot Joel. What’s she going to do?”

“They’re apparently getting married. Or at least Kendall thinks so.” The elevator door to her floor glided open and she stepped out. “What’s he like? I mean I’ve met him, but how’s he at work?”

Tyson’s mouth twisted in a way she remembered it did when he had mixed feelings about something. “He’s really skilled in woodworking. And he works really hard—as long as he’s supervised. Otherwise, I’m sorry to say he’s not all that dependable. I’ve been trying to help him develop good habits.”

Saffron felt no joy at being right about Joel—and especially that her mother was right about him. But what should she do about Kendall?

“It’s ironic, isn’t it?” Tyson said softly.

Saffron stopped walking and faced him, surprised at the anger welling up inside her. “It’s not the same as with us.”

“No. I’m certainly nothing like Joel. And you were always much more capable than Kendall.”

Saffron didn’t know if that was a compliment or a revisiting of last night’s accusations, but her anger was already flowing away. “I’ll be there for her, no matter what. My mother won’t force her into running away.”

Tyson reached out and caught her hand. “Is that what happened?”

Warmth slid from his hand to hers, working up her entire arm. He still felt familiar. “I tried to call you.”

“Your mother called mine. Told her you were getting an abortion and that she needed to keep me away from you. So my mother deleted your calls. She let me believe it was your choice.”

Years of hurt and heartache filled Saffron. She blinked back tears. “You knew me better!”

His face crumpled and his jaw shook as he tried to speak. “I know. It’s my fault. I’m so sorry. I should have looked for you. I knew something was off—at least I see that now. I should have confronted your mother. Somehow I should have known.” His head swung back and forth, his eyes deep and hopeless. “I don’t know how I can ever make it right.”

He couldn’t. He couldn’t because their baby was dead, and that would never change. Saffron knew his pain would increase once he knew the whole truth, and she almost wished she could hide it from him. But hiding from the truth only brought more pain and loneliness. Even though she’d accepted her son’s death years ago, she was still lonely.

A couple emerged from a room down the hall, and Saffron started walking, rubbing a tear from her cheek. When she arrived at her door, she turned to Tyson, who had followed her. “I’ll just be a moment.”

“Okay.” He leaned against the wall, his face normal now, except for the remorse in his eyes.

If only she’d known their mothers had talked. But immediately, she shook the thought away. If there was one thing Lily had taught her, it was that there was no changing the past. Only the future.

He loved me, she thought. He didn’t abandon me. He might not have been her hero, but he hadn’t meant to hurt her. Like her, he’d been sixteen—young and scared.

She changed into jean shorts and a blouse that was barely a step above a T-shirt. Pausing, she took a deep breath, staring at herself in the mirror next to the television, astonished that she didn’t look as beaten and battered as she felt inside. Funny how a few words with Tyson had torn her apart much more than her confrontation with her mother.

Rubbing away a bit of smeared mascara, she started for the door. At the last second, she turned back and removed her little white jewelry box from the top drawer of the nightstand next to her bed. For a moment, she clutched it to her chest. Then she opened it and removed one of the pictures of her baby.

“He’ll finally know about you,” she whispered. “I’m sorry it took me so long.” She kissed her finger and touched the tiny face before wrapping it inside the little blue shirt and slipping it back inside. The box wouldn’t fit into her purse, so she dug out a beach bag from her suitcase, wrapping the box first in her towel for protection.

Her phone chose that moment to buzz with an unread text reminder. She clicked in to see a new message from Vaughn. Just a question mark, which followed the previous unanswered text he’d written: Just let me know that you’re okay.

He deserved an answer, especially now that the confrontation with her mother was over. Or at least the first battle.

I’m okay, she wrote. A bit singed, and I think I do need a new sword, but I’m okay. The water missed.

His answer came immediately, as if he’d been waiting. Water is tricky that way. You have to aim it just right.

I thought you’d never slain a witch?

Oh, but I’m an animator and have designed many witches. So I know them inside out.

Ha ha. I’ll remember that. I might need lessons.

I’ll bring the bucket.

Thank you. Talk later, okay? Have to finish something.

Okay. Later.

Saffron was smiling as she put away her phone, feeling stronger and happier after bantering with him. This being friends thing wasn’t all that bad.

With determination, she strode toward the door.

Saffron took less than six minutes, but to Tyson it felt like an hour. His emotions ran the entire gamut, from excitement at seeing her again to anger at his mother. Underlying all his feelings was an intense curiosity about his son. What was he like? Would Saffron allow him to be a part of the boy’s life?

Tyson became excited thinking about playing ball with his son, taking him to the beach, and making him pancake breakfasts. He didn’t know how Saffron or Jana factored into it, but somehow he’d make things work. He’d been cheated out of so many years, and he wasn’t going to waste a single moment of the future. The decision to become a pediatric surgeon now seemed like fate—something he could use to benefit his son. He’d be able to give him the best of everything.

When Saffron emerged, she looked exactly like she had in high school: long blond hair swinging free, shorts that left her sexy legs bare, and a peach blouse that showed off her curves. Only her face had matured, turning her from a teen to a beautiful woman.

He stepped toward her, one arm ready to go around her waist before jerking his thoughts back to the present reality: she was no longer his girl.

“You look really great,” he said, his voice coming out rough. “Almost like the past eight or nine years didn’t happen.”

Her smile made her more beautiful than he saw her in his dreams. “Thank you.”

They walked down the hall in comfortable silence. Where would he take her? Somewhere to eat? But he didn’t relish talking in a restaurant around other people. That had been awkward enough with Jana.

“You hungry?” he asked as they reached his car.

“No. Not at all.”

Then her beach tote gave him an idea. “How about a walk on the beach? By the time we get there it’ll be near five and not too hot.”

Again the smile that filled him with memories. “I’d like that.”

On the drive, they talked about his work and her jewelry business. About the renovations on his house and his father’s health. Each of them seemed to avoid anything about their past. Tyson was aching to bring up his son, but he’d waited this long, so he might as well wait a little longer. Perhaps sharing their present lives would establish enough of a connection that they could face the past.

Despite their avoidance of topics, the conversation flowed between them with the same ease as when they were teens—an ease he’d only ever found with her and Jana. The car was filled with light, laughter, and sunshine.

Hope.

When they arrived at an unnamed beach that was difficult to get to but not popular with tourists, he threw his shoes into his car and rolled up the bottom of his jeans before following her down a rough path to the sand. There, she stowed her sandals in her bag, and the moment ignited a memory of two weeks before she’d disappeared, the day she’d told him her period was late. It had been a warm day for late March, the bright sun mitigating the cool breeze at the shoreline. She’d told him, tears running down her cheeks, and he’d held her close, wiping them away.

“We’ll get married,” he said. “I love you and that’s all that matters.”

“I love you too.” Her smile broke through the tears.

That day they had walked hand-in-hand near the ocean, unmindful of the cold water that lapped at their feet. He’d felt a strength that had made him unafraid to face any future with her by his side.

Weeks later, his life had ended.

Saffron started walking toward the water, the hem of her blouse lifting up slightly in the wind, showing her smooth back, her hair whipping out behind her, as if beckoning to him. He hurried to catch up. The sand was warm but not enough to make him regret leaving his shoes in the car.

After about a half mile walking along the shoreline, he could wait no longer. He stopped and faced her. “So what happened to you? Where is our son?”

Desolation filled her face, and he understood that whatever happened, the plans he’d been building in his head for the past day would never come true.

“When you didn’t return my calls, I had to leave. Find someplace to stay.” She looked toward the waves, and he was relieved not to see her expression anymore. “I didn’t want my mother forcing me into the clinic. She said I was underage and didn’t have a choice. Of course, I know now that it was a lie, but I believed her then.”

Guilt stirred in him. “My mother . . . I thought you’d made the decision to go to the clinic. That you didn’t want to marry me. I called your phone so many times, but it was disconnected.”

Her gaze met his again. “My mother took it from me when she found out.”

Part of him itched to take her hand, to smooth the pain from her expression. The other part of him wanted to strangle her mother. “And then?”

“I traveled around. I got odd jobs. I was sick a lot at first, but after three months, I felt a little better and could work more. I eventually ended up in Phoenix. I traveled with an old woman and a couple guys who were homeless.”

“They didn’t hurt you?”

Her eyes burned into him. “Not them. But there are a lot of bad people out there. I learned that the hard way.”

Tyson wondered what she meant but found he wasn’t brave enough to ask, not yet, and she didn’t volunteer more.

“There are a lot of good people too,” she added, her eyes dropping to the sand. She stooped to pick up a shell, which she threw into the waves.

“And our baby?”

She stopped walking, her eyes still fixed on the ground. Tears slid down her face, and he began to fear the worst. Had she given him up for adoption? He couldn’t blame her if she had.

Finally, she looked at him. If he’d thought the loss in her eyes had been apparent before, now it was an entire ocean of tears and anguish. “I didn’t have healthcare. I didn’t have enough food. I didn’t know I could get help. I was too afraid they’d send me back to my parents and then take him away.”

Her shoulders shook with sobs. His arms went around her, pulling her against the length of his body. Her hair smelled like flowers and warmth, heady and compelling, and his fingers tangled in the strands as if recognizing the path they’d traveled so many other times. They stood close together on the edge of the water until her convulsions eased.

She took a breath and arched back slightly, but he didn’t let her go, and she didn’t pull away. “He came three months early and lived only a few hours. I’m sorry, Tyson. Our son is dead.”

Shock reverberated through him as the hope ignited inside him these past two days was abruptly snuffed out. His son was dead. Exactly as he’d thought him all these years. No. It wasn’t the same. Not at all. His son hadn’t needed to die. Now it was his turn to cry, to sob and have her comfort him. They clung to each other helplessly, ignoring the few passersby that witnessed their grief.

The worst was knowing he had no one but himself to blame.

At last, Saffron broke away from him and continued their walk, wading further into the water than he could with his rolled-up jeans. Her signal that she needed space. He kept pace with her, separated but still together. Gradually, their tears dried in the breeze. Cawing seagulls zoomed overhead, heedless of their turmoil.

After a time, she angled back toward him, and they walked close together. He wanted to ask more questions, but he didn’t trust himself not to break down again, and he didn’t want to cause her more pain.

“After . . . after he died,” she said softly, “I met a college student named Lily. She took me to her dorm room. Months later we moved to an apartment and five other runaway teens joined us. Nothing official. Just her spending all her money to help us. Then she got married, became licensed with the state, and opened a foster home we call Lily’s House. Remember those good people I told you about? Well, they’re the good people who saved me.”

“I’m glad.” And he was. So very glad. Her family had deserted her, and he hadn’t been there. At least she’d had someone.

“Come here. Let me show you something.” She was smiling again, if a little sadly.

He followed her away from the water where she spread her towel on the sand. They sat on it together. “You came prepared. I guess I’m more predictable than I thought.”

She shook her head. “The towel was only to protect this.” She drew out a small white jewelry box that she set on her lap reverently, hands resting on top.

Tyson could tell by her hesitation that whatever was inside meant a lot to her. Had she met someone else? She didn’t wear a ring, but eight and a half years was plenty of time to fall in love and have more children. He’d try to be happy for her.

She opened the box and drew out a small blue bundle. A tiny shirt. Wrapped carefully inside it was a picture of a girl holding a newborn, love clearly etched on her narrow face. “It’s our son,” Saffron said. “I named him Tyson after you.”

Only after her words did he recognize the girl as her. A very thin, young girl, who was more skin and bones than flesh. He’d seen pictures of malnutrition before in his studies, and every sharp angle of her face screamed malnutrition. “Roz—Saffron, I . . .” What could he say? The picture brought her plight into focus as her words hadn’t. Tears threatened again. What she must have endured . . .

“He’s beautiful, isn’t he? They did everything they could, but finally, they just told me to hold him, and I did until he was gone.” Tears made her voice heavy as she handed him another picture. “This was after.” A woman there helped me get him dressed and buried. The hospital wanted me to donate his body for study, but I-I couldn’t.”

He understood. He’d seen parents in that very same situation. Yet how could this be his son they were talking about? He couldn’t take it in. “Was anyone there with you?”

She shook her head and didn’t speak. Her top teeth closed on her bottom lip, hinting that she was holding back tears. She handed him a folded birth certificate that looked almost new. He read it, and seeing his name—their names—made it more real. “Lily ordered the certificate after I went to live with her. She said I’d want it someday.”

“Thank you for showing me.” The pictures made him feel worse about their son’s death, but he wouldn’t tell her that.

“I’ll make you copies if you want.” She put the pictures back inside the box and set it on top of her bag.

“I would like that.” Because he wouldn’t let himself forget. He took her hand, rubbing it between both of his. “Saffron, I’m sorry. I’m sorry about so much. I wish I could do it all over again. I wish we could change it.” He would never stop owing her for what had happened.

“I know.” Her voice was stronger now. “And I should have come before. I thought I was over it. I mean, I’ve come to terms with his death, but sometimes I’m still angry . . .”

“At me?”

“Yes. And at my mother. At myself. At how young and stupid I was.” Her eyes glittered with tears. “He didn’t have to die, but he did because of all of us. None of it was his fault. I would never trade him for anything. But the timing was bad. We weren’t ready, and he paid the consequences.”

“So did you.” Tyson was the only one who’d escaped relatively free, and he hated himself for it. He traced a vein on her hand. “I never forgot you.”

She gave a little sigh, her mouth parting slightly. “I never forgot you either.”

Before he knew he was going to do it, he leaned toward her. Their lips met softly at first and then with more passion as they found their way. His arms went around her, pulling her close. Her mouth opened under his. She tasted just as he remembered—felt exactly as he remembered her in his arms.

They fell back into the sand, still kissing. When at last they drew away, Tyson continued to hold her tightly. He thought of nothing but having her back in his arms and in his life. It felt right. It felt like destiny.