hugged, a sense of relief and joy that had been a decade in the making filled Donovan. They held on to each other for long minutes before separating. They didn’t fully break contact but rather leaned on each other as they walked into the living room and sat on the familiar striped sofa his mother had fallen in love with on sight at the store.
Donovan took a quick look around the room. Everything was blessedly familiar. The furniture was in the exact same arrangement as it had been when he’d last seen it if a bit more worn. The same family photographs hung over the fireplace, freezing them in time.
“I knew you would come home,” his mother said, dabbing at the corner of her eyes with the hem of her white blouse. “Everyone told us that you were dead and that we needed to move on, but I knew better. I knew you were alive. A mother’s heart knows.”
“As does a father’s.”
Watery laughter burst from Donovan’s mouth. Mario Cordero had always insisted that a father could love just as strongly as a mother and that a dad possessed the same intuition when it came to his children.
“And you’re just in time for dinner.” Donovan’s mother rose and, grabbing his hand, led him to the kitchen.
After washing his hands, Donovan sat at the familiar table in his usual seat. There was something comforting about having everything the same as he remembered. His mother had made a roast with vegetables, one of his favorite meals. He had to admit that no matter what she’d made, he would have been ecstatic. Over the years he’d eaten at many tables, but nothing compared to sitting down at this scarred oak table again.
As they ate, they talked about everything and nothing. They were too emotional to have deep conversations and frequently wiped happy tears from their faces. When the meal had been eaten, they lingered into the night, sipping sweet coffee. Until finally they could no longer avoid the burning question that had so far gone unasked.
“Why did you leave, son?” Lena asked quietly, heartbreak and confusion in her voice.
Donovan had known this time would come. He’d prepared many answers that he hoped would satisfy them without bringing up the terrible past. Now that he was face-to-face with his parents, seeing the love in their eyes, he couldn’t lie to them. He respected them too much. Besides, after years of worry, they deserved the truth. “I saw something I shouldn’t have. A murder. The man who committed the crime threatened us and Raven if I didn’t leave town immediately. So I left.”
“Oh my God,” Lena whispered.
“Are you safe now?” Mario asked, rising. No doubt he was going for one of the guns he kept locked in a gun safe in his study.
“I believe so. The murderer is dead now.”
“I never heard anything about a murder back then.” Mario sank back into his seat. “Why didn’t you come to me? We could have gone to the sheriff.”
Donovan shook his head then stared at his father. “No, we couldn’t have.”
It only took a second for that to sink in.
“I always knew that man was a snake,” Mario said, anger filling his voice. “No wonder he died under suspicious circumstances three years ago. There’s no telling how many crimes he covered up.”
“It doesn’t matter now,” Lena said, patting Donovan’s cheek like she’d done when he was a kid. “You’re home and that’s all I care about.”
Donovan knew that once the euphoria and shock of his return wore off, his parents would ask more questions. Even now Donovan sensed there was more his father wanted to ask but mercifully he held back. Emotionally drained, Donovan was grateful for the reprieve.
A somber feeling settled in the room, taking some of the glow from the earlier joy and excitement of Donovan’s return. A few minutes passed before Lena jumped up. “You must be tired. Your room is all set.”
Donovan was tired but he was much too keyed up to sleep. Nevertheless he followed his parents to his room. The door was closed but when he opened it, it was like stepping into the past. His room was exactly the way he’d left it. If not for the fact that he’d lived every single day, Donovan might have believed the past ten years had been a mirage. The only thing different was the bare mattress. His mother grabbed some sheets from the linen closet and headed for the bed.
“I can do that, Ma,” Donovan said, reaching for the sheets.
“I know you can. But I’ve come into this room for years, longing for the day you would return and sleep in this bed again. Let me make it for you.”
When she put it like that, there was no way Donovan could say no, so he stepped aside and let his mother put sheets on his bed. While she worked, he moved around his room, touching mementos from his youth. He’d never been especially neat, and everything remained as he’d left it. His computer was still centered on his desk, along with a comic book, open to the exact page where he’d stopped reading.
“Done,” his mother said, beaming at him.
“Thanks, Ma.” He pulled his mother into a tight hug then walked with her to the door. She hadn’t tucked him in since he was about seven or eight, but he could tell she would be happy to do so tonight if he’d let her. Instead he kissed her on her forehead and told her how glad he was to be home again. “See you guys in the morning.”
After they hugged him one more time, Donovan’s parents said good-night and he closed the door behind them. Once he was alone in his room, Donovan picked up a picture from his bookcase. Raven. His heart skipped a beat as he looked at the girl he’d loved from the time he was sixteen. With clear brown skin and large, dark eyes, she’d been a beauty. Her long, thick hair was a rich black, befitting her name.
Her parents owned the neighboring ranch, so they’d grown up together. For the first years of his life, he’d thought of Raven as one of the guys. Their mothers had been close friends so he and Raven had played together from the time they could walk. When he’d been about nine or ten, he and his three best friends had formed a boys only club and Raven had been excluded. He could still remember the tears in her eyes when he’d told her that boys and girls didn’t play together so they couldn’t be friends anymore.
When he turned sixteen, he’d seen Raven riding her horse along the fence that separated their property. He’d called out to her but she’d ridden away. He’d tried to catch up with her but she’d been a magnificent rider and left him in the dust. Captivated by her beauty, he’d been determined to re-establish their friendship. Two days later he’d gotten up the nerve to show up at her home unannounced. She hadn’t been impressed. In fact, she hadn’t even acknowledged his presence until he’d given her a bouquet of pink roses. Then she’d smiled and his heart had leaped.
They’d sat on her front porch for hours that day. He’d accepted her mother’s invitation to dinner. When he’d gone home that evening, he’d been totally in love and known that she was the girl he’d marry. Raven hadn’t been convinced of his sincerity and he’d had to work hard to win her heart. By the time summer ended, he’d succeeded. They’d been inseparable until the day he’d been forced to leave her behind.
Was she married now? The youngest of five children, she’d wanted a bunch of kids of her own. No doubt she had a family by now. Just because his parents appeared to have remained frozen in time waiting for him to return didn’t mean that Raven had.
Donovan
