mail. “No answer,” Ben said, looking at his watch.
“Where exactly is Janelle in Africa?” Tyson asked as he continued working.
“Tanzania, but she moves around a lot. Three weeks ago she was in Dodoma. Last week she was in Dar es Salaam. But one thing for sure, she calls me every Sunday evening to let me know where she is and that she’s okay.”
“And is she—” Tyson paused to look up “—okay?”
“That’s a matter of opinion. She’s lost faith.”
“Faith? How do you mean?”
“She lost faith in love, in her ability to love and be loved.”
“Because of me,” Tyson said flatly, laying his pen on the desk. He walked over to the window, glancing out.
“Because of a lot of things, son,” Ben said, sitting with a stack of files at his side. “Truthfully, I’m right there with you. Since her mother died, I’ve had three different wives. She’s seen me in and out of love dozens of times. For the past two and a half years she’s thrown herself into work and had time for nothing else. You might have been the last straw, but I was right there, too. If there’s one thing I want more than anything, more than cleaning this mess up, it is to help her love again.”
Tyson’s heart tightened from the pain that gripped it. Janelle had lost faith in love and he was partially responsible. But at least she was physically safe. He nodded slowly, but he wasn’t at all satisfied.
Sitting, he absently glanced at his notes and then back at the monitor. All of a sudden the program he had been using for years didn’t make any sense. His notes were a confusing scramble of numbers and notations that made even less sense.
Tyson looked over at Ben, who had begun talking about his last trip to visit his daughter. The more Ben went on, the edgier Tyson got.
“I tell you, the moment I stepped off the plane I was amazed,” Ben said. “The country is the perfect duality—both stunningly beautiful and horrendously terrifying. I tell you, every moment I was there I was...”
Tyson looked back at the monitor again. There was no use—his focus was shot. Everything he’d done in the past three hours meant absolutely nothing. All he could think about now was Janelle’s safety.
Ben had moved on to a story about shopping in an African marketplace, but Tyson had long since stopped paying attention. Unlike her father, he wasn’t as convinced that everything was all right with Janelle. He didn’t want to alarm the man, but there’d been something in Janelle’s voice that was definitely stressed. He hadn’t liked the sound of it. But calling her back to make sure she was okay was out of the question. He was the last person she’d want to hear from. He was one of the reasons she’d joined Medics International and left for Africa in the first place—to get away from him.
Still, two and a half years was a long time. There was a good chance she would have gotten past their relationship’s ending. The nerve in his neck tightened and his jaw tensed. Yeah, he had messed up. He’d let his ego and his ambition overrule his heart. Walking out on Janelle had been the biggest mistake of his life.
“Okay, here it is. I knew it was packed away in one of these old boxes someplace. This ought to do it.” Ben sighed as he placed an accordion file on the desk. “I believe everything you’re gonna need is in here. Hey, you okay, son?”
Tyson looked up and nodded. “Uh, yeah. I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? You look a little distracted.”
“No, I’m good,” Tyson said, picking up his pen and turning back to the monitor. He didn’t want to tell Ben the truth, that he’d been thinking about Janelle. “I’m just a little tired.”
“I can certainly understand that. You work all day at your business and then you come here in the evenings and work on my mine. You’ve been a godsend. I really don’t know how to thank you.”
“How about getting us a cup of coffee?” Tyson suggested.
“Done,” Ben responded, hurrying to the door. “I’ll make a fresh pot. Cream and two sugars. I’ll be right back.”
“Thanks.”
Tyson looked at the computer monitor. He was right back where he’d started; nowhere. Moments later he tossed the pen onto the desk and sat back in the chair. Coffee was a ruse. He’d just needed Ben out of the office.
Restless, edgy, he stood and walked over to the window again. He closed his eyes and shook his head. Hearing her voice had brought it all back.
“Damn,” he whispered. This wasn’t what he’d expected. But in truth, he didn’t know what he had thought would happen. When he’d agreed to review Ben’s finances and help pull him out of bankruptcy, he had been thinking only about getting Janelle back. It had been a long shot and probably wouldn’t work, but he’d try.
He looked up at the night sky. He was tired. But that was not what was distracting him and he knew it. She was his own personal drug—just one spark was all it took to reignite his passion. “Janelle,” he said softly, moving back to the desk to force himself to focus on the job.
The knock on the office door was soft. He didn’t look up, assuming it was Ben coming back with the coffee. It wasn’t until he heard her voice and her gasp that he looked up and saw her standing there. His eyes widened; then, just as quickly, a wave of emotional relief washed through him. She was back, she was safe and she was here with him again.
“Dad! Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas. Surprise!” Janelle called out as she opened the door to her father’s office.
She stopped, stunned, and shook her head. She could not believe what she was seeing. Her heart lurched. This was impossible. A small gasp escaped her lips.
As he looked up at her, his eyes narrowed, holding her still. He appeared just as stunned and confused as she was. She stood there for what seemed like forever, her questioning eyes cemented to a face she hadn’t seen in more than two years.
He was still as handsome as ever. Surprisingly, he was clean-shaven now, without the always perfectly cut goatee he’d had years ago. He was casually attired, having removed his jacket, but even so, he was still perfectly styled. Impressively tall with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, he wore a dark dress shirt, unbuttoned at the neck, with a loosened tie. His sleeves were rolled up, baring the strong solid strength of his arms.
Seeing Tyson Croft sitting at her father’s desk was like pouring salt into a healing wound. For her own sake, she had long ago released the anger and the pain she had felt when he’d left. She had moved on, was over him and had never been happier with her life than she was now.
But now, for some reason, a sudden rush of emotion she’d long ago set aside began to envelop her. The hurt was still there. Janelle realized that she had never quite sealed that door. She watched as his gaze eased down her body, then came up and steadied on her face.
“Janelle,” he whispered softly.
The eerie
