child welfare officials in South Carolina, where his father was being held under arrest after an alert state trooper conducting a routine traffic stop, had recognized him from one of the many electronic flyers they’d distributed to law enforcement agencies around the country. Finally, the realization sank in.
Vaughn was safe and waiting for her to come for him! At last, at long last, her son was coming home!
Clasping her hands together, Paige did the only thing she could think to do. She closed her eyes, turned her face toward the ceiling and thanked God.
“Oh, Father! I praise Your holy name. Thank You. Thank You! Vaughn’s coming home!” She began to laugh, tears rolling down her face. “He’s coming home. My son is coming home!”
Grady Jones cleared his throat. Paige beamed at him. With two bright spots of color flying high in his cheeks, he looked down. That was when she realized that she was gripping his hand with both of hers.
She was crying and laughing at the same time. How was a man supposed to react to that? Grady wondered. Displays of emotion always unnerved him. He’d been uncomfortable before; now he wanted to crawl into a cave somewhere. Racking his brain for something, anything, to say, he came up blank, which left him feeling even more hopelessly inadequate than usual.
She suddenly released him, jerking her hands back into her own lap as if he’d snapped at them with his teeth. He felt a fresh flush of embarrassment, but at least his brain began to work again. After a few moments he realized that certain matters had to be addressed. He opened his briefcase and extracted documents, explaining each in detail.
The first would allow the Carolina authorities to release information which would help prove the boy’s identity and had already been faxed to the appropriate party. The next proved her identity. Another granted her custody in the state of Arkansas. The fourth proved that such a grant both superseded and complied with Carolina law, and so on. The last document was a charge filed against Nolan Vaughn Ellis for interference with the lawful physical custody of a minor, allowing the state of South Carolina to hold him until such time as the issue of jurisdiction could be settled. Finally came the flight schedules.
“We assumed you wouldn’t want to wait until after the holiday to be reunited with your son,” Grady told her matter-of-factly.
“I’d go right this minute if I could!” she declared, wiping at her eyes with delicate, trembling fingertips.
He thought of the fresh, lightly starched handkerchief in his pocket, then he looked into her eyes and promptly forgot it again. Those enormous eyes, sparkling now with happy tears, were a soft, muted sea green. He was vaguely aware of the perfect cupid’s bow of her dusky pink lips and the adorable button of her nose, but up close like this he couldn’t get past those big eyes. Her long, brown lashes, spiked now with her tears, seemed gloriously unadorned. She put him in mind of a sprite or a fairy, her sunny yellow hair wisping at the nape of her neck and around her face. The delicate arch of her pale brows proved that the blond shade was completely natural.
Grady gulped and forced his mind back to the issue at hand.
“Uh, that’s, uh, why I’m here instead of Dan. Th-the holiday, I mean. Dan has to consider his family, you understand, but I have no obligations of that sort.”
She tilted her head as if trying to figure out why that should be the case. After a long moment she said, “I see.”
He winced inwardly, feeling as if she’d looked him over and found the reason why he, unlike his brother, was alone and unattached.
“You, um, you just tell me which of these times works best for you,” he mumbled, flushing with embarrassment yet again.
Smiling slightly, she took the printed flight schedules into her small hands and bent her head over them. The edges of the paper trembled. Realizing that she was very likely in shock, he felt duty-bound to point out that the flights leaving from Tulsa were considerably cheaper than those leaving the regional airport.
She nodded and after several seconds said breathlessly, “Early would be best, wouldn’t it?”
“If we hope to get there and back in the same day, yes, I’d say so. Plus, they’re an hour ahead of us on the East Coast, and we could have lots of legal hurdles to jump before we can bring a minor back across the state lines.”
“Well, then, the 5:58 a.m. flight is probably best.”
Grady nodded, mentally cringing at how early he’d have to get up to have her at the airport in Tulsa before five o’clock in the morning as security rules dictated. Might as well not even go to bed. Except, of course, that he had to be alert enough for a two-hour drive to the airport in Oklahoma.
“Can you be ready to leave by three in the morning?” he asked apologetically.
She nodded with unadulterated enthusiasm, handing over the papers. “Oh, yes. I doubt I’ll sleep at all, frankly.”
“I’ll be here for you at three, then.”
“No, wait,” she muttered thoughtfully, drawing those fine brows together. “You’ll be coming from Fayetteville, won’t you?”
“Yes.”
She smiled, and he caught his breath. She literally glowed with happiness.
“Then I’ll come to you,” she told him. “It’ll save time.”
Grady frowned. “I couldn’t let you do that.”
Her tinkling laughter put him in mind of sleigh bells and crisp winter mornings.
“You forget, Mr. Jones,” she said with mock seriousness, “that you work for me. Shall we meet at your office? Say, three-thirty? That’s cutting it fine, I know, but I can’t imagine we’ll encounter much traffic along the way.”
Her plan would save him over an hour all told, but he just couldn’t handle the thought of her being out on the road alone at that hour.
“I’ll pick you up here,” he insisted.
She blinked, then she smiled. “I guess I’ll see you here at three in the morning.”
Only then did it occur to him that he might have explained his reasoning instead of just growling at her. Confounded, he snapped the papers inside his briefcase once more and got to his feet, muttering that he had to go.
She popped up next to him, asking, “How can I thank you?” Then next thing he knew, she’d thrown her arms around him in a hug.
“N-no need,” he rumbled, his face hot enough to incinerate.
“Please thank your brother for me, too,” she went on, tucking her hands behind her and skittering toward the door.
Grady had heard the term “dancing on air” all his life; this was the first time he’d actually witnessed it.
He ducked his head in a nod and stuffed one arm down a sleeve, groping for his briefcase. Getting a grip on the handle, he headed for the door, still trying to find the other armhole of his coat.
“Mr. Jones,” called a rusty voice behind him.
He froze, looking
